A New Life - 16. Chapter 16: Lost

Blake had been dreading the morning since long before he was awake enough to know why. While asleep, he had curled into a ball and buried himself beneath the sheets and pillows, as if cowering from consciousness itself. Eventually though, the irritating sunlight streaming through the window dragged his mind to the surface, forcing him to open one eye, just a crack.

Even that hurt. The light was like a dagger, piercing straight through his eyeball and into his skull. He quickly squeezed it shut again and groaned aloud.

He figured that it was actually quite early in the morning still. The room was well lit because he hadn’t remembered to draw his blinds the night before. That was rather forgetful of him and he pondered over this fact for a moment, trying to recall how he’d gone to bed the night before.

Haze.

Blake launched himself into a seated position and glanced around the room, fearfully, hopefully, but Haze wasn’t there. The movement caught up with him a few seconds later and like a sudden blow to the head he felt pain and dizziness. His skull ached and his stomach churned nauseously.

Had Haze ever been there? Blake could vaguely remember having had some kind of conversation with the blue-eyed boy, but he couldn’t really picture it. Maybe it hadn’t happened? Maybe his eyes had been closed? Maybe he’d just been dreaming or delirious from a toxic combination of drugs and alcohol?

The sunlight hurt. He covered his face with his hands and tried to think.

He was struggling to put the pieces of last night into a coherent story. Haze didn’t seem to be that big a feature of these memories, from what Blake could recall. Mostly, he remembered hanging out with Derrick. Not that he was remembering much of anything right now.

He felt pain emanating from just about every part of his body right then, but most immediately from his bladder. It forced him to rise shakily from the bed, clutching at his head and groaning as he went. He stumbled, bleary eyed to the bathroom and over to the toilet, as quickly as he could manage.

There he stood and watched as the dark yellow stream spilled endlessly into the bowl. It seemed to take forever to finish and yet it was only after he had flushed that he noticed, for the first time, that he wasn’t wearing any pants.

Wasn’t wearing a shirt either. Just undies.

How had that happened?

Despite his aching skull he couldn’t help but blush at the thought of someone, maybe even Haze, undressing him and putting him into bed. Embarrassment morphed into dread and then horror as he grew more and more mortified by the idea.

Whoever it was would’ve seen him virtually naked. The very notion was enough to send a shudder of revulsion through his body and make his already nauseas stomach lurch.

However, despite the intensity of these horrible feelings, there were more immediate physical urges calling for his attention. For a start he felt parched. His tongue was swollen and his throat raw. He stumbled into the kitchen to get a drink of water, but recoiled like a vampire from the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Fed up with this painful irritation, he quickly set about drawing the blinds in the kitchen and then doing the same for every other room in the house. For good measure, he put on the pair of sunnies he found lying on the table as well. Then he dragged his sorry arse over to the couch with a two litre jug of water from the fridge and a plastic mug.

For a while, he wasn’t sure how long, he just sat there in a daze, drinking water every now and then and nursing his hangover. The peace didn’t last for long though, as trickles of memories seeped into his brain, causing him to groan involuntarily and bury his face in his hands.

He could remember now how drunk he had gotten the night before. It was not something he was practiced at doing. He had little experience with alcohol and virtually no tolerance for the stuff. Added to that was the fact that he’d drunk too quickly and mixed his drinks with the medication. It was no wonder he was feeling so sick right now.

The worst part of all this was that he’d probably drunk less than anyone there and yet he’d managed to make the biggest fool of himself. The results hadn’t been pretty. He could remember throwing up in a toilet for one thing and Derrick having to look after him. Some kind of fight with Derrick too ... it was all a little hazy.

The memories induced a smouldering sense of shame and self-loathing, but then his insides took a sudden plunge as he remembered even worse. He recalled freaking out in the bathroom and scaring Derrick half to death. This was bad, very bad. He couldn’t exactly remember how it had happened, but basically he’d flipped out, had some kind of psychotic episode, right in front of Derrick.

Blake lifted his legs up onto the couch and curled into a ball. His anxious obsessive mind began to run over scenarios as he hugged his arms around his legs and body.

Who could Derrick have told? Would he tell anyone? What would he be thinking? What would he say? What would the others think? Did everyone now know he was crazy?

Blake noticed that his whole body was trembling now and so with great effort he pulled himself into a seated position so as to practice his tapping exercises. Deep steady breaths. Rhythmic tapping of his fingers. Repetition of a positive statement out loud.

He knew he had to use these tools to calm down, before he slipped into a panic attack. However, instead he filled the room with a cry from deep within his throat as another flash of memory came back to him.

He recalled practically admitting to Derrick that he was gay. Gay and crazy, both disclosed in one night and to a virtual stranger. What could be worse?

Blake scrambled to his feet and ventured straight to the kitchen to recover his medication. He grabbed the packet from the fridge, but then paused, just before breaking the seal.

It wasn’t willpower or self-control that stopped him, it was fear. He wasn’t really sure what would happen if he tried to take another dose right now. He was still feeling pretty wasted. The drugs tended not to work very well when mixed with alcohol. In fact, as last night demonstrated, they could often make things worse.

Reluctantly he returned the medication to the fridge and sat back down on the couch, promptly draining another glass of water.

He remembered fighting with Nats now as well. He remembered causing some kind of disturbance or fight between the others too. There had been a fight and yelling. He had been involved in all of this, he was sure of it.

As the clock past 7am, things seemed to be getting worse and worse for Blake. He was remembering more and more of the horrible things he had done the night before and as he dwelled upon these it became harder and harder to stop the panic now gripping him. The idea of having to face everyone at work today, feeling as bad as he did, was unbearable.

He contemplated ringing in sick, but how would that look? Everyone knew that he went to the bar last night and drank too much. It would only look worse if he didn’t show up. What would Jill say?

The silence of the room was abruptly shattered by his mobile’s ring tone. Involuntarily, he covered his ears to ward off the painful noise, but then reluctantly he went over to table to find it. He saw the dive shop’s number flashing on the screen and with a great sense of foreboding he answered it gingerly.

“Hello?”

“Blake?”

“Ow...” he couldn’t help muttering aloud.

Did she have to yell down the phone like that?

“Yeah?”

“Jill here, listen, apparently Matt wants to swap with ya today.”

Her voice sounded stern, like a reproachful parent who didn’t quite believe the yarn some child was spinning.

“Huh?” Blake was having trouble putting this together.

“I have ya rostered off tomorrow, but Matt wants to swap so he can have tomorrow off with Vicky. Do ya mind swapping, taking today off instead?”

Blake could not believe his ears.

“Yes!” he practically cried for joy. “I mean no, I mean no I don’t mind, yes, I will swap.”

“Hmmm ... okay then,” there was a pause before she continued. “Are you alright? You sound a little ...”

“I’m fine.”

“Hmmm. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yes. Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Oh and Blake?” she asked as if suddenly remembering something else.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t make a habit out of this.”

She didn’t wait for an answer after that, she just hung up the phone.

Blake cringed with embarrassment, not entirely sure what had just happened. Obviously someone had said something. He wondered whether it had been Matt’s idea or someone else’s. What must they think of him?

Nonetheless, a day off was a day off and right now he desperately needed one to recuperate.

The realisation that he didn’t need to leave the house sent a tremendous sigh of relief through his body. The anxiety and the panic began easing almost immediately. He now had time to plan and to recover. He didn’t have to face anyone for the moment.

First things first though, he thought to himself.

He finished off the rest of the jug of water and then went straight back to bed. His sick, exhausted body soon succumbed to a restless, fretful slumber and dreams of deep blue eyes.

***

The only halfway decent memory from the night before, if it was even a memory at all, was that of Haze helping him home. Blake recalled feeling deeply ashamed for being such a burden at the time and thinking back on this now did nothing to diminish the view.

He had been really wasted at that point of the evening, too far gone even to have been conscious for the most part. From the bits and pieces he could glean from the muddled memories, Blake recalled Haze having to practically carry him home. He didn’t remember the journey itself though. Not the sights or the sounds, he couldn’t seem to recall those bits. Only the sensations. Haze’s touch, the warmth of his arm around the waist, the feel of his sinewy shoulders supporting Blake’s weight. These sensations, these memories, Blake could recall.

Thinking back on them now made him blush and cringe with desire and shame. Desire for the warm and comfortable embrace of the beautiful young man who had held him so close and guided him home. Shame for the lecherous thoughts and feelings this intimate memory inspired.

There was guilt too. Guilt for the trouble he had no doubt caused Haze, for the fights and the yelling between friends. Guilt also for his complete inability to stop this obsessing over a straight guy, to quash these pointless unrequited feelings he had for Haze.

To manage this guilt, Blake pictured how he was going thank Haze and apologise to him, as soon as he got a chance. He imagined promising to make it up to Haze and then somehow coming good on that promise.

In his day dreams he had no difficulty looking Haze in the eye. The prospect was daunting, but the sincerity he felt generated a determination strong enough to overcome any obstacle. He would face Haze and then he would say sorry and somehow this would make everything better, take away the guilt and shameful feelings.

Of course, it was easy to imagine these things while safely at home in the darkness of his bedroom. It was another matter all together, facing Haze in real life.

Blake got his chance much sooner than he had envisaged, after spying Haze’s ute in the car park of the mall. He had reluctantly ventured out of the house in search of food and stumbled upon the ute quite by accident. Pleasant day dreams transformed into terrifying reality and his resolve crumbled almost immediately.

What if Haze didn’t want to speak to him? What if it nothing had even happened anyway? Worse, what if Haze had found out from Derrick about the whole ‘gay thing’? Or the whole ‘crazy thing’? Or both?!

Determination evaporated, to be replaced by a thick knot of anxiety in his chest and a deep sense of trepidation and fear.

Maybe now wasn’t a good time? Too soon? What was he going to do anyway, stand around near Haze’s ute and wait for him to return? Blake was pretty sure Haze wasn’t working today, but who knows how long it could take him to return to his car?

Blake nervously considered these options as he warily approached the beat-up looking ute, but just then, as he got closer he saw that Haze was already present. He was sitting inside the ute, right now.

Blake froze for a moment, before hurriedly sidestepping behind a nearby truck. He hung about at that distance for a while, trying to make up his mind about whether he could go over there.

Could he really face Haze after humiliating himself so badly the night before?

At first the answer seemed to be a resounding ‘no way’, but then, as Blake watched some more, he started to change his mind.

Something was wrong with the other boy. Blake could feel it, almost instinctively.

Haze was just sitting there, mute, motionless, like a statue. He had both hands on the steering wheel, as if he were about to drive off and yet several minutes had passed and still he hadn’t moved. He wasn’t doing anything at all, just staring forward into the empty sand dunes. He looked ‘lost’.

Blake hesitantly made his way over to the ute, taking only a few paces at a time before pausing. He hoped that Haze would look his way, perhaps even beckon him over and say ‘hello’, but Haze didn’t even notice him. Blake got nearer and nearer, managing to approach the passenger side window without being seen. He nervously rested his arms on the edge of the open window, but still Haze didn’t seem to notice.

Blake took a moment to study him. He seemed to be in an even worse state than yesterday. He couldn’t have slept much last night, based on the haggard look of his face. The fact that he was still wearing the same clothes seemed to confirmed this. Even from a distance Blake could tell that he hadn’t showered either.

Worst of all though, was that ‘lost’ look on his dull and vacant face. Haze looked sad and alone. There was a desperate edge to the way he gripped the steering wheel too.

Something was definitely wrong. It frightened Blake to see Haze like this, made him ache in his heart. He forgot all about his own problems for a moment, his own anxiety and fears, and he called out softly to the other boy.

“Haze?”

Haze jumped, recoiling against the driver-side door. He stared at Blake with bloodshot red eyes and a wild expression on his face. He looked fearful and tense.

“I-I’m s-sorry ... it’s just me,” Blake flustered.

Haze seemed to take a moment to comprehend this.

“You,” he half whispered, half croaked. “Course it’s you. Who else would it be?”

Blake wasn’t sure what that meant, it sounded rather odd.

“Are you ... are you okay?” he asked nervously.

Haze laughed in response, but it wasn’t an amused sounding laugh, it sounded ... well ... kind of crazy. The strange sounding chuckle lasted for about ten seconds and then it broke down into a coughing fit. Haze held his fist in front of his mouth as he coughed like that for a bit, but then the coughing died down too and there was only silence. Silence and a strange sort of grin on his face.

“What do you want?” he finally asked in a rasping voice.

Blake wasn’t sure how to answer that, he wanted to know what was wrong, but Haze didn’t seem interested in answering questions. So instead, he decided now was as good a time as any to thank Haze for the night before. Maybe it would get him talking.

“Well. Um. I just wanted to say ... thanks for last ni-”

“That’s fine,” Haze snapped, interrupting before Blake could finish the word.

He then went back to holding the steering wheel and staring forward.

“Okay ... um ... yeah.”

Blake couldn’t muster any further response. Suddenly self-conscious again, he just lowered his eyes to the passenger-side seat and stared at it. He stood there for a while, wondering what to do, what to say. He could tell something was very wrong with Haze, he’d never seen him look this ‘lost’ before, this ‘on edge’. He knew he couldn’t leave and yet he had no idea how to carry on a conversation. So instead, he just stood there, leaning against the window, dithering.

“Is there something else?” Haze eventually asked, without moving or taking his eyes off the steering wheel.

“N-no ... not really ...” Blake mumbled, as a rush of doubt and fear ran through him.

Maybe it was just him that Haze didn’t want to speak to? Maybe the blue-eyed boy had heard something from Derrick or the others? Maybe Haze now felt appalled or even disgusted at the thought of having helped Blake home, at the thought of the intimacy they had shard?

“I’d like to be alone thanks,” Haze said, softly.

“O-okay ...” Blake hesitated, but then instinct drew him back. “It’s just that-”

“Go away.” Haze snapped, finally turning around to glare at Blake.

Blake froze, captivated by the feeling in those soulful blue eyes. Haze glared back at him impassively for a moment, but then his expression seemed to falter and he looked away.

“Please go away.”

His voice was much softer this time, almost a whisper. There was a pleading sound to it as well, as if he were on the verge of tears.

“Haze ... I really want to help,” Blake ventured nervously.

Haze just closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Ya can’t help me.”

Blake didn’t like the sounds of that. It wasn’t so much the words, but the helpless tone in his voice. The finality of it was disturbing.

“Go away.”

Blake didn’t move.

“I ...”

“Just go away!”

Haze reached forward after that and started the engine. Blake wasn’t sure what to do, but as the ute started to move backwards he pushed off from the window so as not to get caught on the door. He followed the ute as it backed into the centre of the car park and then watched as Haze drove off, studiously ignoring him.

Blake’s own embarrassment and shame, while still raw, seemed less important now. Something was wrong with Haze. Blake didn’t know what to do, but he knew he had to do something.

***

The sun was shining brightly out of a perfectly clear blue sky that afternoon. Blake was wearing dark sunglasses, but even without them he couldn’t have seen into the dive shop from the pavement outside. Compared to the brilliant light of the day the shop was just too dark to see inside clearly.

He had walked past the shopfront more than once in the hope he could catch a glimpse of who was inside, but having realised this was futile, he took a deep breath and hesitantly popped his head through the door.

Nats was there, sitting right behind the counter.

Blake remembered her manning the shop on the last few Mondays, so he was not surprised, but he had been hoping for someone else. He really wanted to find out about Haze, but could he face Nats right now?

Nope.

Just the thought was enough send an anxious shiver through his body. He promptly lost his nerve and began to creep away.

“Stop right there!”

He froze upon hearing her bark, involuntarily obeying her order.

“Get ya arse back in ‘ere now!”

Hunched over and unable to raise his head, Blake shuffled into the store and over to the counter feeling like a reprimanded school boy. He was wracked with nerves and for a moment he marvelled at how different this situation felt, compared with last night. Last time he was in front of Nats he was itching to fight with her, relishing the confrontation between them. Now he felt like a cowering wimp.

“What are ya doin’ here?”

“I ... um ... I was just ...” he fumbled around for an explanation, mortified, almost trembling.

“Blake,” Nats interrupted him, voice flat.

“Y-Yeah?” he stuttered.

“Stop being an idiot,” she told him.

He raised his head a little and felt a flood of relief as he noted her playful scowl.

“S-Sorry,” he stammered. “I ... I’m really sorry. Just ... sorry.”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she repeated after him in a sing song voice. “Where was that word last night eh?”

“I’m really sorry about that too ... I had way too much ...”

Nats sighed, reached behind her and dragged out a chair from under the counter.

“Sit,” she ordered, patting the chair beside her.

Blake rounded the counter and sat down next to her, feeling very foolish, but not as anxious as he had been a moment before. Nats sounded stern, but he could tell that she wasn’t really angry.

“I did warn ya to slow down ya know.”

“Yeah ... I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“Yeah ... well ... guess I coulda taken my own advice like ya said.”

He took a moment to look her over properly, realising that she appeared to be doing pretty poorly herself. She had dark circles beneath her tired, squinting eyes and she was lacking her usual spark and vigour.

“You too huh?”

“Way too much,” she moaned, melodramatically.

“How long did you stay out?”

“I don’t even know ... long after ya left that’s for sure.”

“How long did I stay out?” he asked nervously, not having even a rough idea as to what the answer might be.

“Search me ... early enough to have recovered by the look of things.”

Blake squirmed a little under her snap inspection of his appearance.

“I feel like crap. Believe me.”

“Same here, but ya took the spare spot so I had to come to work anyway.”

He felt a surge of guilt at that.

“I’m really sorry ... it’s not like I asked ... I just ...”

“Dun worry,” Nats interrupted holding up her hand. “I have a hangover every Monday. Best time to have a hangover is when ya only lookin’ after the shop.”

There was a brief pause.

“I really am sorry you know.”

She winced and made a show of covering her ears.

“Please stop, ya givin’ me a headache.”

He couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his face.

“I reckon ya probably paid the price enough already,” she added, eyeing him sternly.

Blake nodded soberly at that, the shame and humiliation washing over him as he thought back on the evening.

“I made such an idiot of myself in front of everyone.”

Nats rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically.

“Oh get over it. They all will.”

He glanced up at her, a little incredulous at the blasé response.

“Get over it? I’m going to be the talk of the town again!”

She raised one eyebrow and snorted in response.

“You are so self-obsessed sometimes, ya know that?”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to her statement. Was she insulting him? She didn’t seem in the mood for a fight, so he stayed silent.

“Ya think gettin’ drunk once is gonna make ya the talk of the town?”

Again he wasn’t sure how to respond. Getting drunk was the least of it. Didn’t she know?

“S-sorry,” he muttered, taking care to choose his next words carefully. “I just ... I thought everyone would ... hate me.”

He didn’t want to offer up any embarrassing information if she didn’t already know about it.

“Well I gotta admit Derrick pretty much hates ya,” she told him.

Blake cringed. He knew had nothing to say in his defence either. The way he had behaved towards Derrick was inexcusable.

“Said you were a gay, self-loathing, homophobic, schitzo, freak.”

Blake covered his face with one hand and sank further into his chair. So, she did know.

“Maybe not in that exact order ...” Nats added, bumping her shoulder against his arm in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Oh come on, who cares what he thinks, he’ll be gone after Christmas.”

For a moment all Blake could do was take steady breaths and focus on not throwing up.

“So you know,” he said eventually, still unable to make eye contact.

“Know what?” she asked.

He quickly whipped his head around so as to look at her. She was staring back at him with what appeared to be a confused expression, her brow furrowed. For a moment neither of them said anything. Then her eyebrows rose and she gasped.

“Wait ... ya mean ... ya not really gay ... are ya?”

The word sent a rush of dread and anxiety through his body and he was unable to hide his reaction.

“Oh. My. God.” She said in a staccato. “No wonder ya didn’t notice my level 3 push-up ...”

“Huh?” Blake flustered anxiously. “Wait. I thought you said Derrick told you.”

“Well yeah ... but I didn’t believe him.”

Blake just blinked at her in response.

“I mean, accordin’ to Patty, Derrick reckons everyone’s gay. He’s always comin’ onto straight guys. Got a smack in the face last time, Patty said.”

A sinking feeling came over Blake as he realised that he had just outed himself to Nats needlessly.

“Hang on,” she began, looking confused. “Why did ya get into a fight then?”

“Huh?”

Now it was Blake’s turn to look and feel confused.

“Well ... I thought he came onto ya in the bathroom and ya clobbered him one?”

“Oh ...” Blake felt at least a little relief that she didn’t seem to know about the crazy episode. “He ... I was just really drunk.”

“Aggressive drunk huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Hmmm.”

There was an awkward pause during which neither of them spoke.

“I can’t believe you are gay!” Nats then exclaimed loudly.

“Shhh! Don’t tell anyone Nats, please,” he begged her, headless of how pathetic he sounded.

“Why? Blake, no one is gonna care if ...” she started to speak, but then stopped upon seeing his pleading eyes. “Fine ... I wouldn’t say anythin’ anyway, but ya can tell the guys from the shop Blake, none of them will care.”

“I ... I don’t want anyone to know.” He stammered.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, interrupting him with a sudden gasp.

“What?” he asked, nerves already wrecked.

“I’m struck with ambivalence!” she declared.

“Huh?”

“I’m not sure whether I’m pissed at ya for not tellin’ me, or relieved that I gotta excuse for ya not liking me.”

Despite the tense anxious sensations running through him, Blake couldn’t help but smile a little. He began to breathe a little easier too.

“What’s a level 3 push-up?” he asked her, trying to lighten the mood.

“Well when ya didn’t notice my level 1 and level 2 push-up-bras I went to level 3. That one never fails me. Usually.”

She beamed at him and then started to laugh.

Blake felt relief wash over him and he joined her in a little chuckle of his own.

“I still can’t believe you’re gay,” she sighed, after they’d stopped laughing.

“You can stop saying it anytime now.”

“You just ... I dunno ... I know this is gonna sound bad ... but ya don’t look gay. Ya know?”

The mirth abruptly left him and he stared at his feet as he felt the strangling sensation around his heart. He knew what she meant. All gay men are supposed to be good looking aren’t they? Well that was just a stereotype. Some don’t. Bad luck for him.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I dunno why I said that, but I can tell you’re takin’ it the wrong way Blake.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled.

“Oh, come on,” she complained, bumping his shoulder with her own again. “I’m sorry I am just surprised is all. I don’t mind really I don’t. In fact I’m glad.”

“Glad?”

“Well I was kickin’ myself for kissin’ ya the other night.”

Blake squirmed at the memory and ducked his head down further.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad surely!” she huffed, but a wink let him know she was only joking.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I was thinkin’ how fucked it was gonna be at the shop with both of us workin’ there ... all awkward like ... and now we can just forget about it.”

He raised his head a little as a tiny smile began to form on his face.

“Yeah ...”

“We can check out guys together too!” she declared, clasping her hands together excitedly.

“I guess ...”

“This is gonna be awesome! Vicky’s the only one who will play that game with me and only when Matts not about. Jill is too much of a prude.”

“What game?”

“The guy rating game!”

Blake smiled tightly. He was actually pretty worried by the idea of checking out guys with Nats. What if someone noticed? She wasn’t very subtle most of the time. Still, he figured on balance he shouldn’t dampen her enthusiasm. At least she seemed to be taking it pretty well.

He decided to change the subject instead.

“So ... does ... um ... anyone else know?” he inquired, hesitantly.

“I didn’t even know!”

“Yeah ... but I mean ... did Derrick tell anyone else?”

Like Haze?

That was his real question, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask it.

“Well ... there were others there when Derrick said that ... and when Patty told us about the last time he got into a scrap with a straight guy. I don’t think anyone else took much notice either, I sure didn’t.”

“But maybe they did?”

“Yeah ... maybe I dunno Blake, ya should just tell ‘em. They won’t care.”

Blake shrunk on his chair and didn’t say anything about that. Maybe Nats was right, but if the rest of the shop knew it would only be a matter of time before it became common knowledge throughout the town. He wasn’t ready for that.

“So how’ya feelin?” Nats asked, apparently sensing that a change of topic was in order.

“Like utter shit,” he complained to her and clutched at his head as if only just remembering the headache.

“What’cha doin’ outta bed then?”

“Just getting something to eat and ...” he paused then, suddenly remembering his meeting with Haze.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Um ... I ... I ran into Haze ... just now in the car park.”

“Oh, how’s he doin?”

“To be honest, he didn’t look so good. He was acting weird and ... still wearing last night’s clothes.”

Nats frowned.

“Did he say why?”

“No ... he ... he said he didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Huh.”

“Did anything else happen last night?”

Nats snorted.

“Yeah heaps man. But I can’t think of anythin’ to do with Haze.” She looked thoughtful for a minute. “I mean Patty was pretty pissed at him for takin’ so long to get ya home ... but when he showed up later on they disappeared. I haven’t heard from either of ‘em since.”

“I’m a bit worried about him,” Blake confessed, nervous about seeming too interested in Haze, especially now that Nats knew he was gay.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she told him.

“I dunno, he was acting really ... lost.”

“He’s a quiet one Haze, he’s always like that.”

“No, really, this time it was different. Something seemed wrong.”

She eyed him critically for a moment and he began to worry that she would figure out his secret crush.

“I’ll catch up with Patty tonight and ... I’ll see what I can find out, if ya like?”

“Thanks Nats.”

“Sure.”

They chatted for a while longer after that and Blake was relieved at how much more relaxed he grew once the conversation moved away from sexuality or last night in general. After another half-hour or so he felt convinced his friendship with Nats had been salvaged. It lifted his spirits to know that at least he’d fixed one problem in his life. Not intentionally, quite by accident actually, but at least it was fixed.

***

Blake had his mobile handy throughout that evening, keeping it off silent even after he went to sleep. He checked it often, hoping Nats might text him some update on Haze, but no messages came through. He had thought about messaging her to specifically ask, but was worried about seeming too interested in Haze. So instead, he’d just watched the phone anxiously and spent the evening worrying.

He checked it again first thing the next morning, but there was still nothing. It was early when he awoke, but he went about his morning routine anyway, hoping to get to work ahead of time.

Maybe he would find something out when he got there?

The only good part about worrying over Haze was that it took his mind off his own problems. He didn’t once think about taking his medication, even though he had been planning to do so for most of the day before.

When he arrived at work only Jill was there, standing behind the counter with a newspaper and a coffee.

“Well, well, well, how are ya today?” she asked, one eyebrow cocked and only half a smile on her face.

“Much better now, thanks,” he responded. He didn’t see any need to pretend she didn’t know.

“Good. We got a full day today. Don’t want you falling asleep.”

“I’m wide awake and ready to work,” he told her, walking around the counter to sit on the other chair there.

“Better take the work while you can too. Might not be much diving soon,”

“Christmas yeah. You told me.”

“Not just Christmas mate,” she said, laying out the newspaper and pointing to a page.

Blake lifted leaned over the counter to look at the paper.

“What am I looking at?”

“That!” she said pointing to the weather map.

“Rain?”

“Not just rain kiddo, that is Cyclone Francis.”

“A cyclone?!”

“Uh-huh ... well maybe ... it’s still a long way off. Not much chance of hitting us. Still, there’ll be lots of rain and wind. The water will be rough and the reef will be shit for a week or so.”

“I’ve never been through a cyclone before,” Blake mused aloud, anxiously.

“Dun worry about it, no biggie we get a few every year, but usually they miss us.”

“So what do we do?”

She laughed at him.

“Right now, we make hay while the sun shines!”

“Huh?”

“Goin’ deep divin’ today.”

“Really?”

“Yup ... we got some experienced divers today. Also those three Italian girls who aren’t so good, but they should be fine.”

“Cool. How deep?”

“I’ll probably take the advanced guys down 100 feet or so.”

“What’s down there?”

“To be honest, not as much. Gets pretty dark too. These guys wanna go deep. Dunno why personally, but some thrill seekers seem to think the deeper the better.”

Just then Nats entered the shop and Blake felt a flutter of anxious anticipation.

“Morning Nats!” Jill called out from her paper.

“Morning!”

“Hey Nats.”

Blake hurried forward to intercept her before she could join Jill.

“Hey, did you find out about Haze? Is he alright?” he asked anxiously, too impatient to care whether he sounded overly interested in the young man.

“Err ...” she looked over to make sure Jill wasn’t listening and then leaned in to whisper. “He’s fine, dun worry, I know what’s up.”

“What?”

She leaned in about to answer him, but then abruptly stood back when the door behind her flew open. Haze entered the shop and grunted ‘hi’ to no one in particular, before he disappeared into the back room.

Blake felt a little disappointed that Haze was ignoring him, but once the blue-eyed boy had left the room, he rounded on Nats again and raised his eyes at her expectantly.

She leaned in once more. “Patty dumped him,” she whispered behind her hand.

Blake drew back, surprised and unsure as to how he should feel about this news. He was of course worried about how Haze might be dealing with it, especially after overhearing what Haze’s mother had said that night. But another part of him was also a little delighted. He felt terribly guilty about that though and tried very hard to look saddened in front of Nats.

Fortunately Carlos showed up at that point, making it difficult for them to keep speaking. Nats caught Blake’s attention and nodded towards the back room. He made his way over there avoiding attention, while Nats approached the others and got a conversation going.

When Blake entered the back room, he saw that Haze was in the far corner near the filling station, checking the pressure on some tanks. Blake approached him a little nervously, studying his appearance carefully.

Haze looked the worse Blake had ever seen him, even worse than on the previous two days. He had showered at least and was wearing a clean uniform, but his body language was all wrong. He looked more than merely detached and vacant, he looked down right miserable. He had that terrible ‘lost’ look about him and Blake again got the distinct feeling in his gut that something was very wrong.

Haze was intently fiddling with an air cylinder and didn’t appear to notice Blake until he said hello. He then jumped, just as he had done yesterday in the car.

“What?!” he snapped angrily, backing up against the air cylinders.

“J-just saying ... h-hi,” Blake responded nervously, trying to show him a smile.

“Hi. Now go away.” Haze told him, firmly.

Blake felt a stab of hurt at that, but he continued anyway, pretending not to have heard.

“Jill says there might be a cyclone coming.”

“Go away.” Haze said again, louder.

“We’re going on a deep dive-”

“GO AWAY!” Haze shouted, loud enough for even the others outside to have heard.

Blake faltered, feeling a little sting at the corner of his eyes.

“Sure,” he mumbled, hurt and embarrassed.

He then retreated into the shop, upset, but able to hide it from his face.

Nats glanced over and gave him a questioning look, but he just shrugged at her in response.

What could he say?

He didn’t see Haze again until after Jill had called them all over for her dive briefing. The other boy stood there impassively during the talk and wouldn’t even look at Blake, despite how close they were. In fact, Haze gave no indication that he was even alive let alone listening to the briefing. That was, until Jill announced that he would be skippering.

“I’m diving today,” he told her firmly, though never raising his eyes from the carpet.

“I wanted Carlos and Blake to dive with me today,” she responded equally as firm.

Blake could feel the tension in the air and most of it was emanating from Haze. Apparently Nats could feel it too, because she interrupted to try to diffuse the situation.

“I can skipper,” she offered.

“We’re going out past the reef today, deep diving. I wanted Haze to skipper.”

“I want to dive,” Haze said again, firmly.

There was something about the cold determination in his voice that bothered Blake. It wasn’t anger, it was calm. A kind of menacing calm.

“I can skipper ya know Jill,” Nats huffed.

“I wanted you in the shop again, I wanted Carlos with us. He speaks Italian.”

“I don’t mind,” Carlos offered, shrugging.

“You managed the Italians without Carlos yesterday,” Nats pointed out. “Anyway, I don’t want to stay in the shop again all day, that’s boring, I want to skipper.”

An awkward moment passed as Jill glared between Nats and Haze, alternately.

“Fine,” she relented. “Nats can skipper, Haze you can take the Italian girls. Blake you can take the Germans. I’ll take the rest. Okay?”

Haze didn’t say or do anything to indicate that he had heard her. There was certainly no gratitude expressed. He didn’t even acknowledge anyone.

That’s how it had been for the rest of the morning too.

When the tourists began to arrive, Haze disappeared into the back of the shop. On the drive over to the wharf and on the boat as well, Haze did his job in a perfunctory manner, but he kept entirely to himself.

Blake found the other boy’s behaviour troubling, but for the most part he just kept his distance.

The boat trip took longer than normal that day because they were going out past the reef to dive in the open ocean. Blake sat upstairs, away from the others, deciding to keep Nats company, while she skippered.

The weather was perfect and although it was difficult to hear much over the roar of the engines, Blake found sitting up there to be quite peaceful. The endless blue horizon and the steady rocking of the boat were almost hypnotic in combination.

Eventually, as they got nearer to the buoys, Jill called up the stairs for him to get ready. He said goodbye to Nats and then lowered himself, backwards, down the metal ladder, onto the main deck.

He retrieved his wetsuit and then he tried to decide whether he should change out here or whether he should do it in the cabin. He was feeling pretty calm at the moment and it was getting ridiculous having to get changed in there all the time, so he decided that it was time to toughen up and to change out on the deck.

He lifted his shirt up and over his head, but then froze when he saw the Italian girls. They were watching him, he was sure of it. They were whispering among themselves too and giggling.

His anxieties flared up from nowhere and he began to get paranoid.

What were they saying? Nothing good if they were laughing like that. They were probably poking fun at his funny looking body.

He refused to dwell on these thoughts for long, for he knew where they would lead him. So instead, having lost his appetite for open spaces, he quickly grabbed his wetsuit and retreated to the safety of the cabin.

He was in a world of his own as he pushed his way in through the door, dragging the suit along in his other hand. As he entered though, he heard a sudden commotion to his right, so he paused to peer into the darkness. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light, but when they did, he saw Haze standing there, with a curious expression on his face.

He appeared calm. Eerily calm. Too calm.

He was fully dressed in his wetsuit, hair tied back with the usual black rubber band. He leaned casually against his air tank as if he’d been expecting someone, but Blake could tell this wasn’t really the case. Judging from the flurry of activity he’d noticed upon entering the room, Haze had been up to something. He was hiding something.

“You again?” Haze growled, eyes trained firmly on Blake’s.

Despite his nerves, there was something about the blue-eyed boy’s pretence that Blake found infuriating. It was insulting to his intelligence. The surge of anger granted him strength and for once made him feel bold. He turned to close the door behind them, dropping his wetsuit to the floor as he approached the other boy.

“Haze,” he said steadily, approaching him carefully as if he were nearing a wild animal who was ready to bolt. “I know something is wrong. Please ... tell me.”

There was a flash of something across Haze’s face. Blake spotted it, but only for a second. A waver, a hesitation, a flicker of doubt. All too soon it was gone though, as the blue-eyed boy’s expression hardened once more.

“Go away, Blake,” said Haze, calmly, though Blake was sure he could sense an almost dangerous edge to that voice. A warning. A threat.

It didn’t work though. Hearing his name on Haze’s lips brought only a shiver of that strange pleasurable sensation down his spine. Haze didn’t frighten him, but the situation was making him anxious.

He bit down on his tongue and tried to appear more confident than he really felt.

“No,” he whispered.

He raised himself up to his full height and folded his arms. His insides were squirming with anxiety, but he was determined not to show it. He was not going to look weak, not in front of Haze.

“Stop that.” Haze snapped, lip curling briefly into a snarl.

“Stop what?”

“Faking it,” Haze spat, eyes narrowing. “What happen to ‘be real’?”

Blake dropped his head then, suddenly flustered and unsure of himself. Haze was right, he was pretending too, but only because he didn’t want the other boy to see his weakness, to see the anxious wreck he really was.

He wanted Haze to see a person who wasn’t really there, a person confident and strong. A person worthy of someone like Haze. But that person wasn’t Blake and he couldn’t expect Haze to be honest with him if he wasn’t honest himself.

It was time to be real.

“Okay fine,” he said, hugging his shaky arms around his stomach and stooping a little. “I’m freaking out is that what you want to see? Talking to you is making me nearly sick with ... you know ... my nervous thing. But I’m doing it anyway because I am really worried about you.”

Haze clearly hadn’t been expecting that and for the longest moment he seemed embroiled in inner conflict once more. Backwards and forwards the doubt and uncertainty ran across his features, but then doubt appeared to win out.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, turning away.

“Now who’s faking it?”

Haze whipped around and glared, eyes narrowing.

“Whatever, just go.”

Blake hesitated for a moment, but then pressed on.

“I heard you broke up with ...”

“That’s none of your business!” Haze roared, closing the distance between them to give Blake a shove with one hand.

Blake stumbled back a little, unsettled by the aggressive behaviour, but still he pressed on.

“I just want to help ...”

“Help?!” Haze exclaimed as if they idea was ludicrous. “You’re the one that keeps fucking it up!”

“Me?”

“Yes YOU! Just stop it!” he shouted. “Stop ... stop ...” he bounced on his feet for a moment, as if he were boxing and about to launch a blow. “Stop ... ruining everything! Stop fucking up my LIFE!”

He emphasised this last word by pushing Blake backwards again, until he fell against the wall.

Blake’s naked back pressed against the cool metal and it sent a tremor through his body. Unfortunately, it also reminded him that he was naked from the waist up.

All of a sudden his sense of certainty collapsed all around him, his resolve seeping out of every pore. He started to worry about what he must look like, this fuelling a sense of inner disgust and loathing, reducing him to a trembling pile of nerves, only seconds later.

“I’m sorry.”

He said this automatically, without thinking. It moved straight from his brain to his mouth, without him having any control over it. Anxious, paralytic Blake was back.

“You’re fucking with me again!” Haze shouted.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop doing it!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!”

“I’m-”

Blake didn’t manage to finish the rest of that statement though, because Haze’s hand was suddenly covering his mouth. The other boy had launched himself forward again, left forearm across Blake’s throat, right hand over his mouth.

He stared fiercely into Blake’s eyes, that strangely threatening calm claiming his personality once more.

Blake was frozen, completely absorbed by the sensations of Haze’s fingers against his lips. He lowered his eyes to look at them in awe and in wonder.

Haze followed the gaze and then he quickly released his grip, but without moving backwards. His forearm fell from Blake’s neck and came to a rest on his upper chest. His expression seemed to change, but he put no more distance between them.

For second after second, neither of them did anything nor did they speak a word. Blake was content to simply enjoy the gentle breeze from Haze’s panting breath as it fell softly upon his face.

Haze lowered his eyes and seemed to study Blake’s mouth for a moment. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he raised his hand and ran two curled fingers down the side of Blake’s cheek.

Blake couldn’t help but close his eyes and shudder at the touch, the sensations running wild through his body. Before he could open them again though, he felt something else. Something different.

And whatever this feeling was, it rocked his world.

Warmth and intimacy, the most beautiful and softest feeling on earth. Exquisite shivers of pleasure ran through his whole body as he moved his lips against that warmth, hesitant, exploring. All too soon the feelings began to subside as he felt Haze pull away, but a part of Blake’s mind decided he was having none of that.

He reached out to pull Haze back towards him again and then once more they were kissing. Blake’s fingers entwined themselves in the other boy’s hair, pulling some of the shaggy locks free, as he held his face close. Haze opened his mouth slightly to gasp and Blake held onto the other boy’s lower lip, drawing it between his own to kiss, gently.

Haze groaned, shifting his arms out of the way so as to make space for him to lean in further, to press himself against Blake’s chest. One hand snaked its way around the small of Blake’s back while the other pressed firmly into the wall behind them. Blake’s free arm reached outwards grabbing hold of Haze’s hip and pulling him closer still.

The distance between them vanished as they clung to one another like that. The soft spongy fabric of Haze’s wetsuit brushed against Blake’s bare nipples sending tingles through his chest and making him gasp just as Haze had done.

One eye lulled open a crack and he saw that Haze’s own eyes were closed. He seemed to be utterly lost in the moment, pressing on once more, earnestly moving his lips against Blake’s own.

Time seemed to stop, but then finally Haze pulled away again, looking upwards soberly, longingly.

Something about those eyes shook Blake to his core and all of a sudden he became aware of himself, aware of their closeness, aware of what they had been doing. He couldn’t contain his shock. He just blinked at Haze, stunned, fearful, mortified.

What had he just done?

What had Haze just done?

Blake felt terrified he would wake up and discover this was all a dream. But then, as if it were a nightmare instead, Haze’s face began to change.

The longing disappeared and was instead replaced by something else. Sadness? Fear? No, something else. Darkness, despair, a chilling sense of hopelessness, the complete opposite to whatever Haze had just been feeling, moments before.

“I ... I ...” Haze choked, struggling to get the words out of his throat as he backed away, putting distance between them. “I didn’t mean ... I ... I just wanted to know ... what it was like ...”

Then he stopped and his expression hardened as the look of anger returned.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he said, coldly, malevolently, a completely different look to his eye.

Blake was too shocked to move, let alone argue. Thoughts were whizzing around his head at a frightful pace, his emotions a tangled whirlwind of confusion.

Haze had kissed him.

He had kissed Haze.

The door to the cabin was flung open and Haze kicked Blake’s wetsuit outside.

“Get out.”

Haze.

Kiss.

“GET OUT!”

Blake jumped at the abrupt increase volume.

“Haze ...”

“NO!” Haze screamed, cutting him off. “GET OUT NOW!”

Blake was a trembling wreck. Unable to think clearly, he automatically followed the instructions stumbling from the room as if he had just seen a ghost. He clutched at his wetsuit like it was a teddy bear, his mind overloaded and almost completely shut down.

He made his way over to and inside the marine toilet. There he tried to take steady breaths and calm down. His body was acting on some kind of autopilot while his mind was absent. He peeled off his board shorts and rolled the wetsuit over his limbs without really paying attention to what he was doing.

Had he really just been kissing Haze?

Had Haze really kissed him back?

Blake was unsure how long he had been in the toilet when there came a rapping at the door.

“Blake?”

It was Jill.

He quickly flushed the chain and opened the door.

“Come on mate, tourists waitin’,” she said, pointing to the men Blake was supposed to be looking after.

He glanced over to them briefly, but then he looked around for Haze, instead. At first he thought the other boy might still be in the cabin, but then his eyes spotted him out on the water. The three Italian girls were gathered around him and he looked to be giving them some instructions.

Jill started calling out for her group to get into the water and the two Germans were looking to Blake for direction as well.

He made his way over to his gear and tried to do a quick run through of his checks, but his mind was unable to focus. He couldn’t stop thinking about Haze. He couldn’t ignore the tingling sensations left on his lips.

The autopilot mode seemed to switch into gear and Blake hauled on his equipment and motioned for the other two divers to join him at the back of the boat. Jill’s divers were out on the water by now, about to submerge. Haze and the Italian girls were already disappearing from sight.

Blake stepped into the ocean and shuddered as the cold water splashed over his neck and down the back of his wetsuit. Even that cool sensation reminded him of Haze, of that fierce hold pressing him up against the cold metal hull.

He signalled to his charges and the three of them began their descent into the deep blue water. The open ocean was murkier than the shallower reef they usually dived on and Blake found that he couldn’t see any of the other dive groups, though he looked for Haze in particular.

Despite this being the first deep dive since he’d started work at the dive shop, Blake found that he didn’t pay much attention to what was going on. Normally, diving would take away every thought in his head, every care in the world, but today all he could think about was that kiss.

He dutifully kept an eye on the two Germans, and after their air was down by half he signalled for them to surface.

Once he had risen from the cool ocean depths and taken a breath of air, doubt and fear were upon him once more. Instinctively, he looked over to the boat and saw that there was a huddle of people on the deck.

He swam the short distance from the buoy to the rear of the boat and frantically lifted himself out of the water and onto the deck.

There was some kind of commotion. One of the Italian girls was in hysterics. The other two were alternately shouting something at Nats and Jill, who seemed to be asking them urgent questions.

Blake paused only to kick off his fins and then he pushed his way over to them.

“What’s going on?” he asked, interrupting them.

One of the Italian girls was pointing at him now and shouting something.

“What did she say?” Nats asked Jill urgently.

“What’s going on?” Blake asked again, louder this time.

Jill turned to him.

“Haze didn’t come back,” Jill said, her face white.

Blake felt a sinking sensation in his gut, his insides plunging downwards, his hands going cold.

“What?” he whispered, disbelievingly.

“We’ve lost Haze.”