Confounded: Part II - 4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 --==Mitchell’s POV==--

Love is a many splintered thing. There’s the family kind, where you love each other from birth. Or are supposed to, anyway. Then there’s the conditional kind. You do something, they do something, a give and take. And then there’s the unconditional kind; where you can do wrong, but you’re forgiven; where you can make mistakes but there’s room to correct them. The kind of love where you don’t have to ask for it; you know you have it. It’s the kind of love I have.

His name is Taylan. Husband, lover, confidant…and sometimes I’m ready to plaster him behind the wallpaper. God, he can be such a…
We’re also fire and water, at times. We have the most nuclear of fights. There’ve been times that he threatened to move out. As if I’d let him; the minute he’d set a foot out the door, I’d drag him back or get down on my knees to get him back; I can’t live without him, just as he can’t without me. I know that. I don’t really know what I did to deserve him. Well, alright; I do know. I’m a good man for him. It sounds arrogant, perhaps, but it’s true. And no less than he is good for me.

It seemed to be a pattern, though; I usually am the one doing the groveling. You’d think it’d be the other way around, but it isn’t; most often, it’s me who reacts before thinking it through or having all the facts, voicing my opinion. In my defense; I’m not privy to all that Tay knows, regarding this household. It took me a while to find that out. For one; I never imagined my son telling personal things to anyone else, first, but me. I found that out early on, that this wasn’t the case. At all, actually.

But in any event, Tay and me; we just…belong together. If only because he makes me want to grovel. Well… not really want…I kind of had to. If I wanted to keep any form of normal life going, around here.

**********

I’ve always tried to live with a basic set of principles and pass them on to my son (and my lover, whenever he’s receptive to it). For instance; we visit church, at least twice a month. We’re not slaves to religion, but we do follow some of its more modern philosophy. No, not because it’s something that is droned into me from home; it’s a basic set of values that I think are important, like, ‘give where you can or are able’, or ‘Go for the benefit of the doubt, before you pass judgment’ and my personal favorite; ‘tell those you love that you still do. Every day.’

So, after coming home, I went searching for Tay as I always do, finding him in the laundry room. Wrapping my arms around his midsection from behind, I nuzzled his neck, enjoying the warmth of his body against me.

“I love you,” I whispered. Without a word he raised an arm up and let his fingers slide into my hair, spread out, massaging my scalp as I kissed the skin below his ear, inhaling his scent deeply.

“Oh, you’re so transparent, right now,” he snickered, laying his other hand over mine, stopping it from traveling down. “Why is it that you always try and get lucky as soon as you come home?”

“Try?” I asked, smiling against his skin. “I don’t know; I just want to be close to you. Why, you complaining?”

“Well…yes.”
I lifted my head up and looked down on him, frowning.

“What?”

“Doesn’t happen often enough,” he grinned.
I squeezed him for that, and he let out an oomph.

“Hey!”

“Tell me you love me,” I demanded. “Now. Or face the consequences.”

The telltale silence was enough to make me grin equally wide.

**********

That night, I lay awake for a while. Close beside me, Tay was sound asleep, his breathing coming regular and deep. Not two hours ago, we’d made love. Amazing love, as if he’d found some new source of energy, trying to wear me out; as if he tried to prove to me that he could do better. And I’d taken it, all of it.

I’d take anything he had to give; I’ll devour it. Because it’s his.

Having a relationship with him is like living on the constant edge of a very sharp knife; and at times, I’m scared. Scared of losing him. Scared of us being cut in two, because he…he’s one of a kind. He’s…mine.

And he’s amazing. He was good to me, good to my son. He’d proven that, over and over again, these past three years. Even Sienna, Kit’s mother, hadn’t been as involved as he has been.

I knew all about the resentment some parents had given him at first, when we started out as a family. He hadn’t told me, instead keeping quiet about it. But I knew all about the overzealous parents treating him with disdain, contempt, and disrespect; because he was my lover. He never said a word to me about it, but I still knew; I had other sources telling me what was going on at some of those meetings he attended at schools, sports clubs and whatnot.

One by one he’d won them over, with his charm, his wit, and sometimes with sly cunning, beating them at their own intrigue. People frequently underestimate him, because he’s funny, and he sometimes appears ditzy. But if there’s one thing you don’t want, it’s him in the enemy’s camp; and I know better than to underestimate him.

I remember, in the beginning, that I was scared half to death, whenever we had a fight. He brought so much passion to the table at such times that it seemed likely to me he’d leave. These days, I know he won’t. Because he knows I’d never let that happen, as much as I know he’d never let that happen. We can’t. We’re each others’ be-all and end-all.

I tightened my hold on him, nuzzling his neck, as he moved in his sleep. There was no way, in fucking hell, I’d ever let him go.