Breakfast, nothing spectacular. Cereal, milk. Prosaic and
domestic.
He keeps sneaking looks at me above his cereal like some chagrined
little kid--I half expect him to be kicking his legs back and forth
under the table. Half, though, only half, and he looks shy and
shamed.
//"H, look, it's nothing--"
"You were lying when you said that before and you're still lying
now. Come on. It can't be *that* horrible."
"This isn't *fair*..."//
He said it under his breath, animal-trapped, lodged in a corner. In
retrospect that wasn't the most compassionate thing for me to do, nor
the safest. His face cast sharp red like a sunburn, and the heat of
it when I touched--stroked--his cheek, just wanting him to tell me
because I didn't want to see him hurting. I knew he was--he was
tired, that much was plain. And the real, deep exhaustion turning
his eyes dull and flat as those of a corpse.
//"I...H...I mean, I...like...look, can you promise me you won't go
nuts?"
"Speed, I'm here. I'm here because I want to know what's wrong."
"It's not exactly something *wrong*..."
"Oh?"//
He likes being touched, being held. The backed-to-a-wall, defensive,
bladed reactions slide away, just to be held and breathed in,
familiar a reaction as any.
//"Horsho! Horsho! Where daddy?"
"He's...out."
"When `ome Horsho?"
"Soon, Ray. Soon."//
I don't profess to know *why* he acts that way. It doesn't much
matter, really.
Sitting at a dented formica table, sitting with him and watching him
from time to time in between stirring up the last few renegade
cheerios, sitting and wishing it was sunday.
What is it? Eight, ten hours of work? Of course, he has to come in,
too. Great--eight to ten hours of maddening frustration trying not
to let everyone within earshot know the details of my personal life.
I catch him looking at me and smile.
//"Igottacrushonyou."
"Huh?"
"I...uhhh...I...want...I..."//
His voice, stumbling as I touched him, his face, his neck, curled my
hand around the back of his head.
//"I'm--really, *really* attracted to...you."
"That's not quite what I expected."
"What? You thought I was gonna say I was really attracted to
*Megan*?"
"Now, Speed, that's just par for the course."
"Bastard."//
He had kissed me then, hard and clumsy but Jesus, no lack of heart in
him.
Speed smiles back at me across the table, an unnerving grin, one I've
never seen before. It occurs to me, now, that I've never seen him
smile this much--worse, I barely remember his smile at all. And it's
startling to realize that I'm used to a steady, soft-lined frown or
grimace of frustration or just...flat. His eyes, too, glimmer a
little, relaxed, the dull dun blank being ebbed away, eaten like a
sandcastle in the tide.
//He blushes, furious and blotchy, gripping my shoulder hard enough
to bruise, mouth still locked on mine, body warm, body hot and
prickly next to mine, next thing I know with my arm around his waist
and drawing him close to me, breaking the kiss...
...to nuzzle him, run my hands along his sides, and kiss him again.//
domestic.
He keeps sneaking looks at me above his cereal like some chagrined
little kid--I half expect him to be kicking his legs back and forth
under the table. Half, though, only half, and he looks shy and
shamed.
//"H, look, it's nothing--"
"You were lying when you said that before and you're still lying
now. Come on. It can't be *that* horrible."
"This isn't *fair*..."//
He said it under his breath, animal-trapped, lodged in a corner. In
retrospect that wasn't the most compassionate thing for me to do, nor
the safest. His face cast sharp red like a sunburn, and the heat of
it when I touched--stroked--his cheek, just wanting him to tell me
because I didn't want to see him hurting. I knew he was--he was
tired, that much was plain. And the real, deep exhaustion turning
his eyes dull and flat as those of a corpse.
//"I...H...I mean, I...like...look, can you promise me you won't go
nuts?"
"Speed, I'm here. I'm here because I want to know what's wrong."
"It's not exactly something *wrong*..."
"Oh?"//
He likes being touched, being held. The backed-to-a-wall, defensive,
bladed reactions slide away, just to be held and breathed in,
familiar a reaction as any.
//"Horsho! Horsho! Where daddy?"
"He's...out."
"When `ome Horsho?"
"Soon, Ray. Soon."//
I don't profess to know *why* he acts that way. It doesn't much
matter, really.
Sitting at a dented formica table, sitting with him and watching him
from time to time in between stirring up the last few renegade
cheerios, sitting and wishing it was sunday.
What is it? Eight, ten hours of work? Of course, he has to come in,
too. Great--eight to ten hours of maddening frustration trying not
to let everyone within earshot know the details of my personal life.
I catch him looking at me and smile.
//"Igottacrushonyou."
"Huh?"
"I...uhhh...I...want...I..."//
His voice, stumbling as I touched him, his face, his neck, curled my
hand around the back of his head.
//"I'm--really, *really* attracted to...you."
"That's not quite what I expected."
"What? You thought I was gonna say I was really attracted to
*Megan*?"
"Now, Speed, that's just par for the course."
"Bastard."//
He had kissed me then, hard and clumsy but Jesus, no lack of heart in
him.
Speed smiles back at me across the table, an unnerving grin, one I've
never seen before. It occurs to me, now, that I've never seen him
smile this much--worse, I barely remember his smile at all. And it's
startling to realize that I'm used to a steady, soft-lined frown or
grimace of frustration or just...flat. His eyes, too, glimmer a
little, relaxed, the dull dun blank being ebbed away, eaten like a
sandcastle in the tide.
//He blushes, furious and blotchy, gripping my shoulder hard enough
to bruise, mouth still locked on mine, body warm, body hot and
prickly next to mine, next thing I know with my arm around his waist
and drawing him close to me, breaking the kiss...
...to nuzzle him, run my hands along his sides, and kiss him again.//