“I’m still in love with you, Lukas. It never went away. I just look at you and I feel all kinds of fucked up. And I need to run with this, because what if there is something still there? What if you are the love of my life and I’ve fucked it up? What if I can fix it? What if we can be together and make each other happy? What if we throw this away over stupid shit that happened years ago, when there is a perfectly good chance that we are just meant to be? That fate has just thrown us a second chance, and to be honest, we would be stupid not to at least try. Be friends. See where we end up? Please?”
He stands there like a twat, handing Lukas the plastic bag in his hand. Long life. Reusable again and again and again, the bold lettering from the Swedish supermarket chain screaming out its message at him. Like it’s taunting him. Like the whole world is taunting him.
And Lukas just looks at him. Leans over to look in the bag still dangling from Tom’s outstretched hand.
“You bought me American chocolate?” he says. And damn. There is a little smirk. A glimmer of hope that just eggs Tom on. Like there is actually hope. Like someone has handed him a thin, glittering lifeline in the dark nightmare that is this moment. Right here. Right now.
“You said it’s your favourite. Fifty-two bars of the damn stuff just for you. Because I think I may still love you and I will do almost anything to try to make you happy. And because I am a damn idiot who has no right to even be in your life, but I can’t stop it, Lukas. I need to try. I need to make you see that I’m not that person from years ago. I have tried too hard to kill that person off and become someone good and worthwhile. To be better. Kinder and stronger. I’m not there yet, but damn it, I’m not giving up now that I have found you again.”
Tom is out of breath. Exhausted. He’s done it. He’s said it. There is nothing more he can do.
“You need to punch your code in your phone,” Lukas says. Matter-of-factly, when Tom just wants to die.
He still does it. Punches the damn code into the phone in Lukas’s outstretched hand and stands there panting quietly as Lukas does whatever it is he is doing with Tom’s phone. The screen lighting up his face as he flicks between screens. His face blank with concentration.
“Thank you.” Lukas hands the phone back. Just like that. Like he hasn’t just crushed Tom into the gutter.
“Welcome.” Tom sighs back. Now all he wants to do is cry. Sink onto his knees and wail into the street.
Lukas doesn’t say anything else. He just takes the bag out of Tom’s hand and turns around. Walks away without even a final look.
Nothing. There is nothing there.
MAX
I still haven’t gotten used to it. That he’s here. And the fact that he’s – A: actually into men. Or both or whatever.
He doesn’t define himself, which kind of suits him, being all mysterious, but at the same time, he is just so easy to read. He’s happy. Smiling. Yet, there is a little bit of darkness hiding around his edges that just makes me want to scoop him up and protect him from the world.
I didn’t expect that. I have always kind of watched him from a distance, seeing only the cocky, happy, beautiful specimen of a man that he is. He’s got this little kink to the tip of his nose. His hair is a mess. Long and straggly and I bet he cuts it himself. Either that or his hairdresser is worse than ours. I mean, we kind of go to her because if we didn’t, she would find us and hurl abuse at us in the street for not letting her fix all the things that she always seems to want to fix. Not that she isn’t good at what she does, she can just be a little scary sometimes. And Dad is obviously terrified of her.
And back to my list – B: I still haven’t quite grasped that he likes me.
I don’t understand it at all, but it is a mind-blowing feeling waking up with him, crawling in under the duvet with me. Me – all warm and a little sweaty from sleeping. Him – cool and freshly showered, smelling sweetly of some fruity shampoo. His hair is still wet, and he has found another of my t-shirts to wear.
“Hi, Pumpkin,” he whispers, and kisses my cheek, as he wriggles around to find a comfortable space against my side. His damp hair on my shoulder. His arms tight around my torso. His lips once again placing a little kiss on my stubbled cheek. I need to shave. I never shave.
“You’re all wet.” I giggle.
“You’re all naked again.” He smiles back. “Fuck, I love this. You’re always naked. I can so learn to live like this.”
I just giggle softly. Clothes for sleeping are so overrated. Especially when there is a chance of having another person share your bed. Which is terrifying in so many ways. But still, like totally awesome.
“You should try it,” I say. Trying to drop a not-so-subtle hint. Having Matteo naked in my bed would just be like, heavenly. I wouldn’t mind. Not a bit.
He doesn’t reply. Just curls into me and holds me tight.
“You don’t have to, baby. I’m just messing with you.” I try. He’s obviously not okay. Fuck. Breathing shallowly and not letting go of me.
“Do you want me to put my clothes back on? Sorry about all the nakedness. I do it in my sleep. I get hot and just strip. I’m not used to having other people in my bed.” Fuck, that sounds slutty. And he is still quiet. “I’m not used to having anybody in my bed. And I love having you here. Are you staying the night? You can. We can go to school together in the morning, if you don’t mind being seen with me?”
Finally. He laughs a little into my collarbone.
“Pumpkin, we need to have some ground rules. I mean, I love hanging out with you and I don’t give a damn what anyone says, but I need to know what you are okay with. I mean, can I kind of jump you in the corridors and snog you against the wall? Or will that freak you out? I kind of feel I don’t really know where your limits lie, what triggers you. I don’t want you to be worried that I will do something out there that you won’t cope with. Because I’m all stupid when it comes to you. I just want to kind of live under your skin and kiss you all the time.”
He kisses me again. On the lips. And fuck it’s amazing. Making my body fire up, and my cock twitch.
Which is a little terrifying. Because are we ready for this? Sex and stuff?
“I think I would be okay with that,” I say, my head deep in thought. I mean, I think what will trigger me more is the worry that he doesn’t really like me. That it is all a joke. That he will ignore me at school and I won’t know where I stand.
“With the kissing? Can I hold your hand at school? Sit on your lap?”
He looks much younger like this, in the dusky light from my bedside lamp. His hair spread out against the pillow. Skin against my shoulder.
“Anything,” I whisper. “What will make me anxious is not knowing. Ignoring me when I see you, or not touching me when I’m right there. That will trigger all kinds of shit in my head. Worrying that I have done something wrong, or that you are just messing me around. My head is a confusing place when I get worried. I can’t always make sense of totally normal things and I overreact on the inside instead of just letting things slide. I am trying to work on it, but it’s not easy.”
“Thanks for telling me, and trust me, Pumpkin, I’ve got you. I’ve tried to find ways of getting to know you for so long, and now that I finally have you, I’m not going to do anything to fuck this up. Promise. I’m yours. And you are mine. Please don’t forget that. Mine.”