A New Life - 20. Chapter 20: Need to Talk

If Blake had been able to see all of the houses in Kulibari Bay at once, in some sort of police line-up, he felt certain he could have guessed this one belonged to Mrs Herrington. Standing in front of the place now, it seemed obvious to him, with its huge second floor balcony overlooking the bay, its wall-to-floor windows, and its spacious lawns and gardens.

Whereas every other house in town seemed to be made of fibro, this one was at least partially concrete, the first story rendered and painted gleaming white, the second story weatherboard and painted a light-blue colour. While every other house had sand and rocks for a garden, this place was surrounded by absurdly green grass and lush shrubs, appearing, quite literally, like an oasis in the desert.

It wasn’t just the property itself that gave away its occupants. Blake also spied a familiar shiny Black Land Rover parked under the carport and next to it, looking somewhat out of place, a rather beaten up old ute. Haze’s ute.

Truth be known, Blake hadn’t stumbled across the house by accident. He had managed to obtain some vague directions first, from the nice lady with the long black hair, the one who worked at the mall. He couldn’t recall her name, but she was always chatty with him when he bought his morning coffee and seemed to know everyone in town. So, after loitering around the cafe until she was free to take his order, he’d struck up a conversation and casually gathered rough directions that way.

Of course, it would have been much easier to ask someone from the dive shop where Haze lived, but for various reasons Blake didn’t want to do that. He felt uncomfortable about asking, partly because it made him feel like a bit of a stalker, but also because he didn’t want the others to know what he was planning.

After all, this plan of his, this ‘drop by Haze’s house uninvited’ plan, was probably a pretty bad plan. Everything Blake knew about the mysterious young man with the maddening blue eyes told him as much.

He knew Haze was an intensely private person, the type that didn’t like other people knowing anything about him, not even trivial details. Such a secretive person wouldn’t welcome surprises like this, wouldn’t welcome uninvited guests showing up at his home. He would have given Blake his address otherwise, or at least he would have given him his phone number.

But Haze had done neither of these things. In fact, for most of the time they had known each other, Haze had done nothing to indicate he even considered Blake a friend, let alone someone who was welcome to ‘drop by’ his home at any time.

That was forgetting, of course, the steamy make out sessions which, try as he might, Blake didn’t think he would ever be able to forget.

But not just those moments, there were other times too.

That night on the beach together, in the dark, sharing secrets.

That day in the desert, riding the ATV far from town, eating lunch on top of a towering sand dune.

And underwater too, on their first dive together, Haze blowing bubbles, showing off, the two of them holding hands in the vast empty blue.

Such experiences had been nothing short of magical for Blake and could be counted amongst the best moments he could remember. Thinking back on them filled his heart with hope and with courage. They were part of the reason he was here right now, standing in front of the fancy looking front-door with the opaque glass circles. If it weren’t for such experiences, he would never have caught a glimpse of another kind of Haze, someone who was anything but cold, detached or hostile. Real Haze.

Real Haze sat in complete contrast to the Haze that ignored him. Maybe real Haze would answer the door and be happy to see him?

Blake’s fingers reached for the doorbell, but he hesitated for a second as he noticed his unsteady, trembling hand. The anxious churning sensation in his stomach had been steadily building since he’d left the mall, but now the feelings seemed to reach a crescendo, an overwhelming nausea, somewhere between anxiety and outright panic.

He quickly reminded himself why he was here. It certainly wasn’t his preferred option, this ‘dropping by’ plan, but there seemed to be no other choice.

He was really worried about Haze. The boy hadn’t shown up at work that day and Jill hadn’t explained why, even when he’d asked her outright. It troubled him. He still didn’t know much about what was going on inside Haze’s head, and the few things he did know seemed reason enough for him to worry. Haze might be in trouble.

However, deep down, Blake knew that this was not the only reason he was here. Part of the reason was purely selfish. He simply could not bear another 24 hours thinking and worrying about all the ... stuff ... that had been going on between them. The kissing stuff. It was driving him insane. He needed to talk to Haze. He needed to talk about what, if anything, was going on between them. What did Haze want from him?

Blake reasoned that even bad news was preferable to the vacuum of information he was currently confronted with. All the ambiguity and the mixed signals were feeding his anxious, obsessive mind. It was keeping him awake at night. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to do this. No matter how anxious and afraid he felt, he had to talk this out with Haze.

With a renewed sense of courage, Blake reached for the doorbell again, but was startled as this time the door flew open by itself, Haze abruptly appearing in the doorway with a scowl marring his otherwise perfect features.

“What are ya doin’ here?!” he demanded, in a harsh whisper, eyes wide.

He did not look happy.

Caught off-guard, Blake fumbled to remember how this was supposed to go, having rehearsed for the conversation at lengths, but now seemingly unable to remember his lines.

“H-Hi ... um ... Haze, I just ... was in the neighbourhood ...”

“Shhh!” Haze hushed, before turning to pull the door closed, leaving it opened just a crack behind him.

Blake couldn’t figure out if Haze was more angry or fearful, but there was definitely a little of each of these two emotions playing back and forth across his unusually expressive face.

“Ya have to go, now!” he ordered, pushing Blake backwards, none too gently, down the garden path and towards the white-painted fence.

“But I ... I really need ... to talk ...” Blake protested, as doubts and fears began to fill his mind, sapping him of his resolve, of his determination to go through with this.

“No. Not now. Ya have to go now.”

“But-”

“No!”

“Oh ... well ... how about later-”

“I’m busy later too,” Haze said, cutting him off while making shooing motions with his arms.

Blake felt his shoulders sag as disappointment took hold.

“Oh ... er ... okay ... well maybe I’ll just see you at work tomorrow?” he said dejectedly, the question somewhat rhetorical.

He wasn’t really asking.

“Yes. No! Maybe, I dunno,” Haze fumbled, sounding exasperated. “Just go now!”

As had happened before, something about the other boy’s behaviour at that moment tripped some invisible line in Blake’s head, sending a flash of simmering anger through him. He felt defiant and argumentative all of a sudden.

“Well when then?” he demanded, standing his ground and stubbornly refusing to take another step backwards.

Haze, who apparently didn’t notice this, continued to walk forwards until he bumped into Blake’s chest, causing him to yelp and to jump back hastily, glancing from side to side.

“I dunno, just not now!” Haze snapped angrily. “Not when mum’s around, I don’t want her to see ya here!”

“She’s not gonna find out you’re gay just cause you’re talking to me!” Blake snapped back, irritably. But then he gasped and involuntarily drew a hand to cover his mouth as he realised what he’d just said out loud.

He really hadn’t meant to say that. It’d just slipped out of this mouth. He hadn’t been intending to bring the ‘g’ word into this conversation at all, not unless Haze did first.

For one thing, despite the physical intimacy he’d shared with the boy, several times now, Blake could not be sure that Haze was actually gay. He might just be confused. Or bi? At any rate, labels like ‘gay’ and ‘bi’ were scary and Blake wanted to avoid provoking or upsetting his friend.

He remembered how unpleasant and confusing it had been all those years ago, coming to terms with his own sexuality. He wanted to make things easier for Haze, not harder. He’d planned out a conversation full of compassion and patience, but it wasn’t working out like he’d planned at all.

Haze’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ shape, but then he narrowed his now blazing blue orbs and glared dangerously at Blake.

“She figured that out a long time ago,” he spat, furiously, his face contorted with rage. “What the fuck do ya think you know anyway?”

Blake was taken aback. Not just by intensity of Haze’s sudden wrath, but by what he was hearing too.

Haze’s mother already knew? Wait ... Haze already knew?

That didn’t seem to add up.

Blake had spent countless hours puzzling over Haze, trying to make sense of the mysterious boy and his strange behaviour, but it had never occurred to him before that Haze might already know about his sexuality. That he might already have come to terms with it, even told other people. His mother no less!

It just didn’t seem to make sense. Haze’s secretive behaviour, his paranoia around other people in particular, only seemed to make sense to Blake in the context of a confused bi or gay youth, struggling to come to terms with himself, desperate to hide or to deny his sexuality.

At least, that was the conclusion Blake had come to the night before, after a great deal of time spent thinking about ... the kissing.

And wait a minute ... did Haze just admit he was gay?

“Fuck off!” Haze swore, snapping Blake from his internal musings.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” Blake blubbered, the flames of anger now completely extinguished as all the fight quickly left him.

He felt mortified. He couldn’t believe how badly this was going. Despite all of the time he had spent rehearsing, he was still ruining everything. Why did he always do this when it came to Haze? Why did he have to fuck it up all the time?

“Just go AWAY!” Haze now shouted, apparently forgetting all about the need to keep his voice down.

“Hayden, what do you think ...” came an angry sounding voice from behind them, before it abruptly relaxed into another tone entirely. “Oh ... Blake, dear!”

Blake turned around, towards Penelope Herrington and did his best to smile.

“Um ... hello Pen- ... err ... Mrs Herrington,” he fumbled, doing his best to look nonchalant.

She seemed to regard him with a scrutinizing expression, her smile never faltering, but never quite reaching her eyes.

“My, how lovely to see you again,” she sang, clasping her hands together in apparent delight.

Blake wasn’t fooled though. He knew better than to fall for this ‘nice lady’ routine.

The last time he’d seen those hands they’d been gripping a fistful of Haze’s hair while she shook the boy and yelled obscenities in his face. The last time he’d heard that musical voice it’d held an entirely different tone, malevolent and cruel. Blake would not soon forget that night, the other side of Mrs Herrington.

“Um ... t-thanks ... it’s good to erm ... see you too.”

She made her way down the path and as she did this, Blake noticed that she was dressed rather smartly, if not very modestly, in a well-fitted blue blouse and white jeans.

This made him turn to regard Haze as well and for the first time he noticed that the blue-eyed boy was rather well-dressed too. He was wearing shoes for once and his short-sleeve shirt had buttons and a collar. Definitely not his usual style. Not to mention his hair, that horrid combed down look again, like the other night at the bar.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Penelope asked, smiling brightly, her voice high pitched and pleasant sounding.

“He just wanted to swap shifts,” Haze hastily interrupted, before Blake could open his mouth to say anything.

She regarded her son for a moment and then turned back to Blake as if to seek confirmation.

“Err ... yeah ... I wanted a day off ... for ... um ... something.”

Blake wasn’t really sure why he was lying, but he could somehow feel Haze’s silent, invisible pleadings even though the boy’s mask was back in place, his expression cold and distant.

Mrs Herrington’s cunning, calculating eyes seemed to swing backwards and forwards between the pair of them.

“Thanks Blake, ya can go now mate,” Haze said, turning to look at Blake, his face unreadable.

“Err ... yeah ... I should ... um ... probably go ... now.”

A sly smile tugged at the corner of Mrs Herrington’s mouth, but she waited a few more moments before speaking up.

“Nonsense!” she declared dramatically, reaching out to place her hand on Blake’s shoulder just before he’d managed to turn around to leave. “You are just in time for tea, you simply must stay.”

She was watching her son, not Blake as she said this, and Blake felt certain that she too caught the brief lapse of concentration on Haze’s part, as the mask faltered and a look of horror crossed his otherwise neutral features.

“He can’t!” Haze protested, forcefully.

Blake tried hard to ignore the stab of hurt he felt at that, but hurried to agree all the same. He had made enough of a fool of himself for one day and didn’t want to stay unwelcomed.

“Oh no ... I really couldn’t ...”

“Oh, but you must!” Mrs Herrington insisted. “I won’t take no for an answer!”

There was a pause then as no one said anything, until Haze broke the stalemate.

“Whatever,” he shrugged at last, pushing past them both and heading back to the house.

Blake wasn’t fooled by Haze’s sudden disinterest anymore than he was fooled by his mother’s behaviour. However, he was stuck now, unable to figure out what was happening and unsure as to what he should do next. He felt distinctly unwelcomed, but trapped into at least coming inside, if only for a short while.

“I ... really should ... just go ...”

“Nonsense,” Penelope insisted again.

She then reached behind him and threaded her arm around his own, her hand coming to rest on his bicep as she towed him towards the house.

“We were just about to have some tea and I have plenty for one more.”

Despite her polite and friendly demeanour, Blake could feel his anxieties grow stronger in response to this unfolding turn of events. This wasn’t the way to win Haze over, that much was obvious. He needed to escape somehow.

The inside of the Herrington household was as fancy as the outside Blake noticed. Polished wooden floorboards, minimalist, but expensive looking décor and a stainless steel kitchen greeted him as he nervously made his way through the home, Mrs Herrington leading the way.

She pointed out a few things to him, but he didn’t really get the feeling this was a leisurely tour. She was taking him somewhere in particular, up the stairs and into a spacious living area, where wall to floor windows granted a spectacular view of the bay. Then she led him out through a glass sliding door and onto the Balcony, where his attention was drawn immediately to the large outdoor table, made up with a white tablecloth and scattered with various plates of food.

Haze was there too, leaning on a nearby railing, his attention apparently fixated on the view. He was ostensibly ignoring them, but he was hovering close by and Blake got the distinct feeling he was keeping an eye on them.

“I’ll just get the kettle dear,” Mrs Herrington said, sitting him down at one of the chairs. “Back in a jiffy.”

She left via the living room and as Blake watched her head disappear down the stairs he was suddenly startled by Haze, who grabbed him by the shoulder to whip him around.

“What are ya doin’?!” he hissed in that harsh whisper again.

“I ... I ...”

“Leave! Make up some excuse!” he ordered, the strange combination of fury and fear running across his features.

“I ... I can’t ... she won’t listen,” Blake fumbled, but then he noticed the sudden change come over Haze once again, the mask drifting back into place as he drew away.

“Tea okay for you?” Mrs Herrington sung, her head appearing at the top of the stairs.

“Er ... um yeah ...” Blake stuttered, helplessly, stumbling to get to his feet for some reason.

She smiled at him and then disappeared again.

Haze quickly closed the distance he’d put between them and leaned in once more.

“Don’t tell her anythin’,” he whispered angrily. “Nothin’ at all! Ya hear? Don’t tell her about the ... accident especially. Pretend you don’t really know me at all.”

“I ... I won’t... I mean ... I won’t tell her ... I will pretend like ...”

However, their chance to speak was over as once more Mrs Herrington appeared from the staircase, this time carrying a tray with a teapot and some cups resting on top. She chatted idly about the weather as she poured the tea and sat herself down right next to Blake, despite their being ample room at the table for her to sit anywhere.

“Hayden come and get your tea,” she snapped at him, her expression momentarily souring.

“I don’t want tea,” Haze snapped back, with just a hint of a sulk in his otherwise neutral tone.

Mrs Herrington huffed and turned to regard Blake.

“Is he this rude at work?” she asked, with a motherly look of admonishment on her face.

“No ... well ... I don’t know,” Blake stumbled, Haze’s last words bouncing around inside his skull. “He’s pretty quiet and ... um ... we don’t talk all that much.”

He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty as he tried to invent answers he thought Haze would want him to say. But then he realised, morosely, that he wasn’t even lying. Not really. Haze was quiet and he didn’t speak to him all that much, especially at work.

“Oh dear,” Penelope sighed, shaking her head in apparent disappointment at what she was hearing. “I thought he might be better behaved there. He pretends to love Scuba so much after all.”

Blake laughed nervously, not really sure what else to say upon hearing that. Pretends?

He looked over to Haze, but the boy was ignoring them both, having apparently returned to his appreciation of the view.

Over the next ten or fifteen minutes Mrs Herrington asked a series of questions, about the shop, about Haze and about the two of them working there. She was polite and friendly and yet at the same time Blake couldn’t shake the feeling he was being interrogated. It was the way she kept following each question with another, never talking much herself, except as necessary to keep him talking.

On several occasions, Blake got the feeling she was repeating the same questions, but slightly differently, as if to trip him up or to confuse him. He was experienced with this sort of ‘cross examination’ tactic though, so he made sure to keep his answers consistent.

However, the strange part was, nothing she asked seemed very important. At least, not in so far as he could tell. He tired to glance over to Haze now and then, hoping to get some indication of how he was doing, but the other boy had his back to them. Maybe this was a good sign? Surely Haze would interrupt if he was saying the wrong thing?

Mrs Herrington had opened her mouth to ask yet another question when a loud buzzing sound could be heard coming from inside the house.

The doorbell?

Blake’s eyes once again swept across the table, noticing for the first time just how much food was there. Way too much for two or even three people. Just what was he interrupting?

“Could you get that please Hayden?” Penelope asked of her son, her voice sickly sweet.

Haze didn’t look happy about that, but he stomped past them all the same, into the living room and down the stairs until he was out of sight.

Blake quickly decided that this was his chance to make an exit, but as he turned to face his host, he found Mrs Herrington nearer all of a sudden, leaning right in close.

“I hear you saved my son’s life the other day?” she asked, suddenly very direct, her face watching his as if she were able to divine meaning from every twitch of his facial muscles.

“I ... err ...” Blake made mumbling noises as his mind groped for something to say. He knew he couldn’t outright deny it. She was bound to have heard something and if she caught him lying it would only make her more suspicious of him and possibly more suspicious of Haze.

“I ... I think that’s a ... huge ... um ... exaggeration ... I err ...”

“But you did rescue him?”

“Um ... no ... I wouldn’t say he needed ... err ... rescuing ... exactly.”

“Well what would you say happened then?”

She stared at his face as she asked him this and he had trouble meeting her intense eyes, so like Haze’s in colour and yet altogether different somehow.

“N-Nothing ... nothing really. Just a ... bit of excitement ... tourists getting into trouble ... you know.”

She continued her scrutiny of him like that for a moment, until he thought he would melt under the burning intensity of her gaze. However, then she looked away, distracted by a sudden ruckus coming from downstairs and when she next turned back she was smiling at him sweetly once more.

“Well ... anyway. Such a dangerous sport this diving,” she sniffed, brushing at her blouse. “I may have to put a stop to it one day.”

Blake released a nervous chuckle at that, but then quickly stifled the sound as Mrs Herrington returned to glaring at him.

“I ... um ... don’t think you could err ... stop him,” Blake stumbled, feeling the need to explain himself all of a sudden. “He’s pretty attached to it and ... um ... well ... what can you do? He’s an adult and all.”

Mrs Herrington began to laugh herself then, but it was a strange laugh, somewhat affected and fake.

“Oh I have my ways!” she declared, her voice rising in pitch.

Blake nervously joined in on the laughter, feeling the need to do so for some reason he couldn’t quite explain. Surely she was kidding?

“I could always revoke the lease on the dive shop?” she suggested between chuckles and although her voice was sweet and jovial, there was something menacing about those words.

Blake continued to chuckle along with her though, as best as he could manage, but his grin was slipping.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, reaching out to touch his arm. “But then you would be out of a job too wouldn’t you?”

There was a pause as she left her words to hang between them for a moment, but then she burst into a light hearted chuckle once again, as if the whole thing were just a silly joke.

Blake couldn’t quite manage to join in this time though, as he felt a little rattled and even more anxious than he’d been feeling already. He was left with the distinct impression that he had just been threatened somehow.

However, there was no time for him to reflect on that, because another, even greater shock was awaiting him.

A man had appeared on the balcony, standing right behind Mrs Herrington. He was a rather large man in his late forties or so, barrel chested with muscular arms, covered in tattoos. Blake recognised him at once, even though he looked significantly different from when they’d last met. Not that they’d actually ‘met’ last time, unless dragging the mostly unconscious man through the resort counted.

“Hello, Eric,” Mrs Herrington sung, dragging out the ‘o’ in ‘hello’. “This is Blake. Blake this is Eric.”

Blake could feel his heart in his throat as he tried awkwardly to get to his feet, stumbling a little as he caught his foot on the leg of his chair. He then reached forward and they shook hands.

“Pleased to m-meet you,” Blake said politely, his eyes scanning the man’s face for any hint of recognition.

“G’day,” Eric responded, his handshake just a little too firm.

He was regarding Blake with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, but Blake didn’t get the feeling this was because he recognised him. More likely, the man was just wondering who Blake was and why he was here, a question Blake was asking himself at that moment too.

“Blake’s a friend of Hayden’s,” Penelope explained and Eric nodded and smiled at that, while Blake wondered to himself what Haze would make of the ‘friend’ part.

Eric then sat down at the table and when his massive frame moved out of the way, Blake received his third shock in as many minutes.

There was Haze.

Haze and ... Patty.

One arm wrapped around each other at the waist.

“Hello, Aunt Penny,” Patty said, dragging Haze along with her as she approached.

“Patty dear! How are you?” Mrs Herrington asked, smiling broadly as they embraced. “You can’t keep calling me Auntie you know,” she added, making a motion between Patty and Haze. “People will think you two are related!”

Patty giggled with delight, turning to look at Haze with obvious affection, before turning back again, her smile quickly falling from her face as she met Blake’s eyes.

“Um ... h-hi ... um Patty,” Blake greeted nervously, determined to ignore the way she was holding onto Haze’s hand.

At least ignore it for now.

He really didn’t need to think about what that meant right now.

“Hello again, Brad,” she said flatly, making little effort to disguise her distaste.

“Blake.”

“Blake ... of course,” she said, before turning back to Penelope, her smile returning as she did so.

A few minutes later they were all seated around the table and Blake could not remember having ever felt so intensely uncomfortable in his entire life. Penelope and Eric were talking between themselves to his left, but Blake forgot all about them as he tried his best not to be too obvious about the glares he was shooting Patty’s way.

He hated the way she moved her chair so close to Haze, so that she was practically sitting on top of him. He hated the way that she constantly pawed at him too and fiddled with his clothes. Worst of all, he hated that Haze let her do this, without even the slightest hint of disapproval, not that he was giving off signals of any kind right then. He was as impassive and unreadable as ever.

As she prattled on about something, Blake struggled to interpret the behaviour between them, their body language. Patty didn’t look terribly upset about the break up with Haze. In fact, she looked pretty happy. In fact, they didn’t look all that broken up and ...

And then something happened which really got to Blake.

Patty turned around in her chair, leaning forward until her lips met Haze’s in a sweet and tender looking kiss.

Blake felt the floor disappear beneath him as a mixture of hurt, sadness and rage coursed through his body. He wanted to look away, to look elsewhere, but he couldn’t seem to draw his eyes away, no matter how much it hurt to watch the long, lingering kiss between the two of them.

Finally the stew of emotions caused him to flinched, his legs knocking the table from underneath, causing the cups and plates to rattle.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled when everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the table.

For a moment, Blake thought he could see Haze trying to give him some kind of meaningful look, but he couldn’t bear to meet the other boy’s eyes. He didn’t even want to look at Haze right then.

He felt sick, the already gnawing anxiety he’d been feeling since he’d turned up at this wretched house now mixed with hurt and with something else too. A deep seated sense of humiliation and self-loathing.

How could he have been so stupid?

The skerrick of hope he’d been holding onto until now, that’d kept the dark thoughts and fears at bay, died inside of him and suddenly the absurdity of his whole plan was laid bare before his eyes.

Mentally, he began to reproach himself for being such a fool, for being so utterly stupid as to think, no, to hope, to blindly hope, that Haze might’ve wanted something else. Someone else. Not Patty.

Chronically low on self-esteem as he was, Blake had not imagined this ‘drop by’ idea of his would turn out so badly. He’d envisaged some pretty bleak scenarios, but having to sit here silently and watch the boy he was crazy about lip-wrestle with his apparently ‘on again’ girlfriend was even outside of his worst case scenarios.

This whole idea was stupid. It was never going to work. He was a fool for coming here.

The next half-hour or so passed at an excruciating crawl as Blake found himself unable to bear looking in Haze’s direction, but equally unable to feel part of the conversation between Eric and Mrs Herrington. Once or twice, he was surprised to notice Haze trying to include him in the conversation he was having with Patty, but Blake could not meet those cool blue eyes let alone speak. Patty didn’t seem keen for him to join them anyway.

At some stage the others had stopped talking in pairs and the conversation seemed to encompass the whole table, easing the pressure on Blake just a tad, since he was less obviously being excluded now.

Then there was some movement as Mrs Herrington took Patty by the arm to show her some new dress she had ordered for the Christmas party on Sunday, leaving only the men at the table and a rather awkward silence.

“Blake ... mate, do um ... do ya think ya can give me and Hayden a second?” Eric asked, looking at him with a serious expression on his face.

Blake didn’t need to be asked twice. He was itching for an excuse to get away. He started to get to his feet before he’d even managed a reply, but in a flash Haze had lashed out his arm and placed it on Blake’s shoulder, forcing him to sit back down.

“Blake is fine where he is,” Haze snapped, glaring at Eric who glared back at him.

“I think you and me need to discuss somethin’ private, mate,” Eric muttered through grit teeth.

“Nothing to talk about Uncle Eric,” Haze growled back, putting a particular emphasis on the word ‘uncle’.

The tension between them was such that Blake dearly wanted to leave the table. Leave the whole house for that matter, never to return. However, Haze was holding him firmly in place.

“Hayden, I know-”

“She’s makin’ a fool of ya,” Haze spat, cutting off the much bigger man before he’d finished.

For some reason, Blake took this statement literally, at least for the first few seconds. After all, the huge man did look a little ridiculous sitting down to afternoon tea. Kind of like a grownup sitting at a child’s tea party play set. Of course, Haze wasn’t likely to be talking about that, but as to what he was talking about, Blake had no idea.

“And why would she do that?” Eric asked, his voice controlled, eyes narrowed.

“Ya know why,” Haze growled. “Pull ya head outta the sand and think for a change.”

There was a pause then as the two of them stared across the table at each other, pushing Blake’s level of discomfort even higher. However, soon there was the sound of the women returning and Haze’s fierce glare changed back into a blank smile, one that did not react to anything, not even Patty when she leaned down to kiss his forehead.

After that the conversation seemed to resume as it had before, until a short while later, when Patty made a show of looking at her watch.

“We better get going, Penny,” she said, getting to her feet and dragging Haze with her.

“Of course dear, I have some things to discuss with your uncle anyway,” Mrs Herrington said sweetly.

“I-I sh-should get going too,” Blake stuttered, scrambling to his feet all too eagerly.

“Well, it was lovely to see you again Blake,” Penelope Herrington said, getting to her feet to take his hand in both of her own. “I did so enjoy our little chat,” she added, cocking her head slightly in a manner Blake found disconcerting.

Eric likewise said his goodbyes and soon Blake found himself following Patty and Haze down the stairs and into the front yard. He felt a huge sense of relief as he left that house, but any good feelings quickly vanished when he saw Patty turn to kiss Haze once again.

It was only a peck. Hardly passionate or even romantic for that matter. In fact, the gesture would not have looked out of place between siblings or friends.

But Blake felt it like a punch to the gut all the same.

Part of him was angry, furious enough to want to go over there and to shove Patty away from Haze. However, a larger part of him was just too hurt and embarrassed to put up a fight. This part seemed to win over, instilling within him the urgent need to run away, to escape these bad feelings before he did something stupid like cry in front of them.

“Where are you going, Blake?”

It was Haze’s voice calling out to him, stopping him just before he could open the front gate. Blake had every intention of ignoring them both, but the sound of his name caught him off guard a little and made him pause there for a moment.

“Home,” he answered simply, unable to turn around less he lose control of his emotions.

“Why dontcha come with us?” Haze asked.

The question infuriated Blake and for a moment he was overwhelmed by anger and spite. He was tempted to turn around and to tell Haze just what he thought of such an invitation, but as it turned out he didn’t get the chance.

“Oh I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Patty said, and now Blake really couldn’t help but turn around.

“Why?” Haze asked her.

“Derrick’s coming and err ... well ... he doesn’t really like Blake ... all that much.”

She shrugged at them apologetically, but Blake didn’t get the feeling it was too heartfelt.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled anyway. “I gotta go.”

He turned away again, this time opening the gate and walking away from them as quickly as he could. He did not stop to look back at Haze as he half-walked, half-ran to get distance between them, down the road, past the resort and onwards until he neared his own street.

He’d been holding it together quite well until then, but as he spied the sanctuary that was his home, his control began to slip. His eyes started to sting, as the hurt and the misery finally overwhelmed the last vestiges of his self-control. He broke into a sprint then, desperate to get inside before he fell to bits, but he kept stumbling as bleary eyes clouded his vision.

At last he was at his front-door and after fumbling with his keys he managed to get inside, leaning his back against the door so as to close it. He then sank to the floor, covered his head with his arms and allowing the tears to flow freely.

***

Blake spent the rest of that afternoon and most of the evening wallowing in hurt and in sadness. At first the pain was sharp, but as he lay there on the couch, brooding, the sensation gradually drained away until he was left with only a dull, numb kind of ache. Depression.

He’d lost all track of time and didn’t move from the couch until his growling stomach finally dragged him from his thoughts, back to the real world. It was dark outside by now, but he hardly took notice of that as he made his way to the kitchen in search of food. Opening the fridge, he looked about for something to eat, but then stopped.

He wasn’t sure he should be eating. Something was telling him not to eat. A voice or at least a presence of some kind. Whispering dark thoughts that had him involuntarily reaching for his stomach.

He should not be eating at all. He didn’t deserve to eat. He was already too fat. Maybe if he wasn’t so disgusting to look at, Haze might ...

The fridge door slammed close and Blake started looking about the room, as if searching for the source of these whispers. The hunt was in vain though. Of course it was. He’d done this enough times by now to know what was really happening. Just his usual ‘stuff’ coming to the surface again. This was always how it came out. He knew why too. Haze with Patty. He just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Nevertheless, there was just enough authenticity to what he was hearing in his head to keep him trapped up there. After all, he’d been eating such strange food since he’d got here and there was no gym at which he could work it all off. Maybe he was putting on weight?

He wanted to check. He felt an overwhelming compulsion to check. Just in case.

He marched back to the living room and retrieved the mirror from its hiding spot behind the couch, hanging it on the wall nearby.

Deep down he knew this wouldn’t really help. The ‘checking’ would not provide him with any real comfort, only a kind of false sense of comfort, a distraction while he busied himself with the task. It wouldn’t last though, he knew it wouldn’t, and afterwards he would feel worse.

But this voice of reason was lost, drowned out by all the other noises in his head. Voices, feelings and compulsions, demanding that he do this.

He stripped off his clothes and then stared loathingly at his reflection.

What an idiot he was for thinking someone like Haze, even if he was gay, could be interested in someone like him.

With this thought in mind, he lost himself in the pointless rituals of checking his body, turning this way and that, angling and then straightening, flexing and then relaxing, standing tall and then slouching. He moved right up close, so as to study the pores of his skin and then back again, so as to take in the full picture.

The whispers in his head muttered their poisons all the while, filling him with such horrible feelings that he soon began to recognise the tell tale signs of an emerging panic attack.

He knew he should really go through some of his psych exercises, but that seemed like too much work. He just wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he changed into some light shorts and a singlet, deciding to go for a run. Convinced that he’d put on weight since coming to this wretched town, he figured some exercise would do him good. It would hopefully exhaust him too and that would help him to fall asleep when he got back. He really needed to sleep properly tonight, especially after the anxious, restless slumber from the night before.

Fortunately the moon was bright that night and he found it easy to see in the darkness. He made his way to the beach, picked a direction and started to run, sneakers sinking into soft sand as he went.

At first he ran at a almost a sprint, but having skipped dinner he soon lacked the energy for that kind of pace and settled on a steady jog instead.

Every now and then, thoughts of Haze would bubble to the surface of his mind, but he did his best to banish them as soon as they did. He reminded himself that he had spent all the night before thinking about Haze and that had got him absolutely nowhere. A complete waste of time.

Besides, there was a part of him that just didn’t care anymore. Haze was too great a source of pain. Painful to be around, painful to look at and, now, painful even to think about. Blake didn’t think he could take any more pain. He was sick of feeling like shit.

Forget Haze, he told himself.

Forget his crazy mother, his awful girlfriend and his strange uncle or father or whatever too.

Forget the lot of them.

Blake wasn’t sure how long the run lasted in the end. He hadn’t brought his phone, nor had he checked the time when he’d left home. However, as he made his way up the beach and towards the town he assumed it must be pretty late. Everything was quiet. Even the resort’s bar seemed quiet.

He was damp with sweat, which trickled down his legs and arms, but he was feeling a little better overall. His body glowed with a warm sort of buzz from the exertion, masking the dull ache of depression nicely. He also felt a little less worried about the weight he was sure he’d been piling on too.

Exhausted now, both physically and emotionally, it took him a while to notice the shape huddled on his doorstep as he neared his home.

“Haze?” he croaked, the word leaving his mouth before his brain could even appreciate what his eyes were seeing.

Haze quickly looked up from his lap and then rushed to get to his feet, seeming a little unsteady.

“Um ... hey,” the blue-eyed boy mumbled, before glancing downwards at his fidgeting hands.

Blake wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing Haze there. On any other occasion he probably would’ve been thrilled and delighted to see him waiting for him on his doorstep, but tonight things were different. Tonight, Blake was exhausted, confused, depressed and still pretty hurt.

He’d had enough.

He’d had enough of Haze.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, unable to hide his lack of enthusiasm.

At least he didn’t add: ‘where is your girlfriend?’, although the thought did occur to him, bitterly.

Haze seemed to take a while to figure out what he wanted to say, shifting his weight about on his feet and fidgeting relentlessly.

“Well ... ya said ya wanted to ... um ... talk,” he answered, begrudgingly, like a stubborn child being forced to say ‘sorry’ for something he didn’t really feel sorry for.

For a moment Blake felt a flash of anger at this, spurred on by memories of Haze and Patty arm in arm. True, he had wanted to speak with Haze, but that was before, before he’d spent the afternoon watching Haze and Patty together. Now? Now he was just too exhausted to talk. He couldn’t even maintain this anger at Haze. He felt too numb. He just wanted to be left alone.

“It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, wearily. “Not anymore.”

Haze glanced up from his fidgeting hands at that, looking a little surprised. He’d clearly not anticipated this response.

“Oh ... err ... okay.”

He stood aside from the door, but hovered nearby, like he was waiting for something.

Blake decided to ignore him, digging around for the key in his pocket and then fumbling with the lock.

“I ... can I stay ... for a bit?” Haze asked, the words sounding forced, as if it were a struggle for him to request such a thing.

It surprised Blake that he actually had to think about the request for a moment before answering. He had never refused anything Haze asked of him before, but right then, he was ready to do just that. Maybe even to tell Haze to ‘go away’ for once.

“Why?” he asked instead, softly, resting his forehead against the door, wearily.

He hadn’t thought that sounded too nasty. The question was a genuine one. He was tired and fed up. What did Haze want?

Haze, however, clearly took offense.

“Forget it,” he said, in a very different tone of voice, cold and aloof. He then plastered one of those polite smiles on his face, the type Blake knew to be phoney. “I’ll leave ya alone.”

He pushed past and headed for the street.

“Wait!” Blake cried, ashamed at how desperate his voice sounded, at how quickly he’d given in upon seeing Haze turn to leave. “You can come in ... I just ... I mean ...” he paused for a moment and then sighed. “Just come in.”

He pushed open the door and made his way inside, not daring to check to see whether Haze was following him. He stood there, holding the door open for what seemed like ages, until finally he watched as the blue-eyed boy hesitantly came inside.

It was then that Blake noticed the distinct smell of alcohol, which wafted past as Haze made his way into the house. Again Blake took in the boy’s unsteady footing and quickly surmised that Haze must be a little drunk. Not blind or anything, but somewhere past merely tipsy.

As Blake turned to close the door behind them, he wondered to himself whether it was wise to have Haze over in such a state, but he soon had other things to think about.

A hand had just appeared at his waist and Blake felt his eyes flutter closed as its soft, hesitant caress brought a shiver to his spine. Then the hand was travelling up his side a little, directing him, turning him around until he was face to face with Haze, his back pressed up against the now closed door.

Daring to open his eyes, Blake marvelled at the captivating young man, who’s rebellious locks had sprung free from that ‘combed straight look’ and now fell across his face, obscuring cool blue eyes in an unbelievably seductive manner. Even in this intoxicated and dishevelled state, Haze was still a sight to behold.

He took a moment to tuck his hair behind his ears and then he licked his lips a little. He’d started to give Blake that look again, the one he seemed to give just before he was about to move in for a kiss.

And sure enough that’s what happened next.

Haze slowly leaned forward, his other hand finding its place behind Blake’s head, pulling him nearer, fingers entwined in hair as he brought their mouths closer together.

And it would’ve been so easy for Blake to have let him continue like this too.

Despite everything that had happened that day, despite the suffering he’d endured, despite the exhaustion he was feeling, despite the rage and the hurt that bubbled to the surface whenever he pictured Haze with Patty. Despite all of these things, every ounce of Blake’s being wanted this, yearned for Haze’s touch, for his lips, for his body. It would have been so easy to give into these urges, to have lost himself once more in erotic sensations and hypnotic blue eyes.

But Blake didn’t allow it.

Not this time.

At the last moment he turned his head away and whispered softly.

“No.”

He could feel Haze’s presence, the boy’s mouth stopping mere inches from his cheek, where his own mouth had been only a second before.

“Why?” he heard the boy whisper. His voice sounded demanding, but also pleading too.

Blake placed his hands on Haze’s chest and pushed gently, until the other boy was a safe distance away.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he answered, surprised at how tired and yet how sure of himself he sounded.

When Haze said nothing in response to that, Blake turned to glance at him and in the dimly lit room he saw a look of such anguish and misery that he wanted to take back what he’d said. He wanted to reach out and to pull Haze forward, to embrace him, kiss him, say that he was sorry.

But he just couldn’t bring himself to do that.

He simply wasn’t prepared to trade another moment’s worth of passion for another night’s worth of anxious worrying when it was all over. Another day’s worth of hurt after being ignored at work the next day. Another painful incident like the one this afternoon, seeing Haze and Patty arm in arm, kissing.

He couldn’t put up with it anymore, not even for Haze.

“Why do you keep doing this anyway?” Blake asked softly, bitterly.

Haze scrunched up his face again, into a furious looking scowl. He then opened his mouth as if to shout.

“I ...”

“No!” Blake interrupted, cutting him off before he could get a word out. “I don’t want to hear your angry answer.”

He watched as a confused and hesitant look crossed the other boy’s face.

“You’re just picking anger ‘cause it feels better than something else,” Blake told him, surprised by the sudden conviction in his own voice. “The real feelings. The ones you’re avoiding.”

Haze blinked a few times rapidly and then gulped, before his eyes suddenly stared down at the floor again, his arms crossed at the chest. He stayed like that, pouting, but not saying anything.

Blake was still mad at him, but he couldn’t help reaching out then, closing the distance between them as he’d wanted to do so many times before. He’d always been too afraid to follow this instinct, but after everything that had happened, what was there to lose now? For once, he felt free of the all consuming anxiety and doubt, which usually held him back. Instead, he felt a strange sense of calm he’d never felt around Haze before. He even found that he could speak without stuttering or stumbling.

He knew that he had to take advantage of this moment too.

“Haze?” he said, placing his hand on Haze’s forearm and squeezing softly.

Haze said nothing, but nodded slightly, his face tense, his eyes steadfastly looking downward.

“I need to know what else you’re feeling, behind all that anger,” he said, trying to recall how his psych had once explained this to him. “Feel behind that anger, underneath it. The anger’s just there to block you from feeling something else. There’s something underneath it that you don’t want to feel. What’s that feeling?”

“I dunno what ya mean,” Haze mumbled in a pouty sounding tone, but his scowl had softened a little and his eyes darted upwards momentarily. He was curious.

Blake took a steadying breath and continued.

“Feel what’s underneath.”

“How?” Haze asked, his voice cracking into a whisper, an almost pleading whisper.

“You say ‘thank you anger’,” Blake explained, as gently and as encouragingly as he could, but trying not to sound patronising either, trying to mimic the way his psych used to speak to him. “Thank you for blocking that feeling. You have an important role to play in looking after me, and I thank you for doing that job so well. But I don’t need you right now. I’m okay. Anger, you can go.”

“Stupid,” Haze muttered, but his voice sounded thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to say it out loud, just in your head. Can you do that?”

After a moment Haze nodded, somewhat begrudgingly.

“Thank you. Now, imagine that anger feeling going away, just relax and let what’s underneath come out.”

“Don’t wanna,” Haze muttered, with half-hearted defiance, his arms wrapping even tighter around his chest.

“Why?” Blake asked softly, patiently.

“It’s bad.”

“It feels bad?”

Haze nodded.

“What kind of bad? Sad bad? Scared bad? Shame bad?”

Haze shrugged, but he did not look up.

“Just bad,” he muttered after a few seconds thought.

“Try to describe it to me then.”

“Why?!” Haze demanded, looking up, his face bunched into a scowl his voice suddenly raised. “This is stupid!”

Blake nodded patiently for a few moments.

“Anger is back again, huh?” he pointed out, trying his best to tip-toe around the other boy’s triggers as best as he could.

Haze stopped at once and then blinked rapidly as he’d done before. Then he seemed to shrink a little and fold his arms once more.

“Say thank you anger,” Blake instructed again. “It’s okay, thank you, but you can go now.”

Haze did nothing for a few seconds, but then he nodded again.

“Done that?”

He nodded once more.

“Now can you feel the bad again? If not it’s okay ... maybe another time ... you don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” Blake promised, knowing from experience that he couldn’t force this, he could only encourage. “But if you could, ... just ... sit with it ... for a moment. Try to let it come and then tell me about it.”

A look of concentration passed over Haze’s downcast face and for a moment Blake thought that he wasn’t going to say anything else, but then at last he spoke up in a tiny, almost childlike voice.

“Bad is gonna happen.”

“Going to hurt you bad?” Blake asked.

Haze nodded.

“Like you are going to be attacked?”

Haze’s head moved about from side to side. Not really a nod, not really a shake of the head.

“More like threatened? Suspicious bad?” Blake suggested, trying to make sense of Haze’s emotions as best he could. It seemed clear to him now that Haze didn’t have much experience with identifying or understanding this emotion. He only seemed to know how to avoid feeling it. In fact, from what Blake had seen of Haze the same was probably true of all other emotions too.

Haze nodded this time, seeming a bit happier with this answer.

“Sounds like you’re feeling vulnerable?” Blake suggested. “And you don’t like feeling like this.”

Haze nodded his head again.

“Feeling angry is better than feeling vulnerable, huh?”

Haze seemed to think about that for a moment and then he nodded.

“Is ...” he started to say, but then trailed off and paused for a moment, as if trying to decide whether he wanted to ask this next question. “Is that why I get so ... angry sometimes?” he asked, in a soft timid sounding voice.

“I don’t know,” Blake answered, honestly, ponderously. “Maybe. At least some of the time. But there’s probably a lot more to it than just that. There are lots of reasons people get angry.”

Haze said nothing in response to that, so Blake continued.

“Anger is like nature’s booster,” he explained. “It can make you feel more optimistic, stronger and better able to respond to threats. It can help to protect you and the people you care about from danger. It can keep out bad feelings, like helplessness and despair and it give you a sense of control and power instead. All of this helps to keep human beings and even animals alive. That’s why it's there.”

Haze was still mute and sullen looking, but he was clearly listening, Blake could sense his interest.

“Of course,” he continued, “it can also be bad, especially when there’s too much of it or if it’s stored up for too long. Anger can lead to making bad judgements, like taking silly or dangerous risks. It leads to suspicion and a lack of trust in others, damaging relationships and creating conflict. At worst it can lead to violence and hate.”

“How ... how do ya ... you know ... get rid of it then?” Haze asked in that same small and timid voice.

“You can’t,” Blake explained. “Everyone feels feelings and sometimes that means anger too. There are ways of managing too much of it, but getting rid of feelings doesn’t work.”

“That’s not true,” Haze declared, stubbornly, although his body language was still withdrawn and his eyes were on the floor. “I can make ... stuff ... go away. Nowadays ... I can feel nothin’ ... most of the time. Nothin’ at all.”

Blake couldn’t help but release a bit of a nervous chuckle at that, but he immediately regretted doing so.

“DON’T YOU LAUGH AT ME!” Haze abruptly roared, his eyes wild, filled with such rage as to make him appear frightening. He’d suddenly uncrossed his arms and was waving a threatening hand Blake’s way as his face scrunched up into a nasty looking scowl.

Blake jumped a little at the unexpected outburst, holding his hands up in a sign of appeasement.

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Haze,” he promised, trying to transmit sincerity with his eyes.

Haze just glared at him though, looking unconvinced.

Blake signed and shook his head.

“Angry better than vulnerable again, huh?”

This seemed to get through Blake was pleased to see. Haze blinked rapidly as he appeared to realise what had come over him. Then he visibly shrank again, crossing his arms at the chest and glaring at his feet.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice still sounding a little tense and angry. “I ... sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Blake replied, pleased that he’d managed to diffuse the situation much quicker this time, hoping it was a sign he was making progress.

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” he explained. “It’s just ... well ... you see ...” Blake hesitated then, not sure how much he wanted to reveal, but pressing on all the same. “I ... I used to ... spend a lot of time trying not to feel,” he confessed, gulping at the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat. “It ... doesn’t work. It can’t work. Humans aren’t made that way.”

Haze glanced up again briefly, curiously.

“How come ... How come I can get rid of the ... feelings most of the time then?” he asked.

“It’s like a balloon,” Blake explained, using the same analogy his psych had used when explaining this to him. “You can try to squeeze at one end, but the air just moves to the other end. You can try to squeeze that end too and it just bubbles up somewhere else. If you keep squeezing everywhere, eventually it just bursts and all comes out at once.”

“So ... do ... you get angry too?” Haze asked, looking up through the curtain of hair which had fallen across his face.

“Anger’s not my problem,” Blake admitted, after a moment’s hesitation.

Haze seemed to frown a little, but then his expression brightened in understanding.

“Oh ...” he mummbled, “ya mean ... your ... um ... nervous ... thing, huh?”

Now it was Blake’s turn to look at his feet and nod sheepishly.

Haze said nothing for a moment, but then he spoke up again in that soft, timid sounding voice.

“How ... how do ya know ... all this ... stuff?”

“I ... well ... I learned it, I guess,” Blake answered, knowing it wasn’t much of an answer, but not willing to offer up anything else.

But Haze wasn’t happy to leave it at that.

“Who ... who taught ya?” he asked, hesitantly.

Blake licked his lips, feeling truly anxious for the first time since Haze had shown up on his doorstep that evening.

“Dr Z ... that’s what I used to call him.”

“Was he really a doctor?” Haze asked.

“He is a doctor ... a psych actually,” Blake confessed, feeling his cheeks burn with shame.

“Oh,” was all Haze said in response to that and then he returned to staring at his feet.

There was an awkward pause then as neither of them seemed to know what to say next.

Eventually, Blake, feeling past exhausted after a long day and a long run, made his way over to the couch and sat down heavily. He noticed Haze watching him again, so he patted a spot on the couch besides him and smiled, trying to appear more relaxed and confident than he truly felt.

Haze looked at the couch, dithering for a moment. Then he hesitantly made his way over and sat down, choosing a spot some distance away, notably out of reach from where Blake was sitting.

For some reason Blake thought of Patty and how close she seemed to like to sit next to Haze.

How come Haze didn’t seem to have a problem sitting so close to her?

The thought soured Blake’s mood and reminded him that he was still pretty angry and feeling vulnerable himself.

“So, can you explain something to me?” Blake asked, trying not to sound bitter.

“What?” Haze mumbled a little defensively, staring at the fidgeting hands in his lap.

“What’s the deal with you and Patty?”

Haze visibly winced, but kept his eyes downcast.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his face darkening.

Blake could feel the young man closing up again, but he pressed on anyway. This was not something he could just ignore.

“Are you ...” he started to ask, but then he stopped.

He knew Haze wouldn’t respond well to that kind of question. It was too direct. The boy was already moments away from an emotional shut down. Blake knew he needed to approach this in a different way.

Then he thought about what Nats had told him, about how he needed to open up more himself if he wanted others to do the same.

“It really ... hurt you know ... seeing you with ... her this afternoon. It really upset me,” he confessed and now it was his turn to stare into his lap and fidget, awkwardly.

The effect on Haze was noticeable and instantaneous.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper and sounding so miserable that Blake had no doubt in his mind that he was telling the truth. “I ... I really didn’t want ya to have to see that.”

Blake could tell from the earnest sincerity in Haze’s voice that he didn’t quite mean it that way, but he couldn’t keep the bitterness from his own voice all the same.

“Sorry I saw it ... not sorry it happened but?”

Haze seemed to think for a moment and when he answered he was back to staring at his lap and fidgeting.

“I don’t ... I don’t want to ... be ... with her ... not like that. If that’s what ya mean,” he said, hesitantly, his voice sounding small. “I just ain’t gotta choice. Not at the moment.”

“Wh-,” Blake started to ask, but then stopped himself, foot tapping on the floor in an agitated fashion. “Can I ask why?”

Haze shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

“You can tell me,” Blake prodded.

Haze just shook his head again.

Blake sighed in frustration.

“You remember on the boat?” he asked, because he couldn’t bring himself to add ‘when we were making out.’

Haze nodded and Blake somehow knew that Haze understood what he was talking about.

“Why did you ... why do you ... you know ... keep doing that then?” he demanded.

He then watched as waves of emotion ran over Haze’s face. First anger came again, but this time only briefly. Then the rapid blinking as that was fought back down along with what looked like the vulnerable feeling too.

“Cause I ...” Haze eventually started to say softly, but his voice cracked and he had to swallow before he could continue. “I wanted to ... I really wanted to ... and I thought ... maybe ... you wanted to too and ... I wanted to tell ya, but ... I’m not good with talkin’ ... I couldn’t say it. I just thought I would ... show ya ... instead.”

Blake positively beamed as a warm, excited kind of happy feeling bubbled up inside of him, bursting forth across his face in a manner he could not have contained if he’d tried. He felt such exhilaration, such joy that all the bitterness and jealousy of only a moment ago was now extinguished, completely smothered. He was light and free, and felt as if he were walking on air.

However, when he finally managed to summon up the courage to look over at Haze, what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. Haze was practically snarling at him, his face contorted with such rage and malice.

Blake quickly surmised what was going on though.

“I’m not laughing at you, Haze,” he rushed to explain, careful to look the other boy in the eye and maintain a deadly serious expression until he could see that Haze understood.

“I’m smiling cause ... cause I ... well ...” he felt his cheeks flush and his shoulders hunch a little as he struggled to get the words out. “I really liked hearing you say that,” he confessed, although he couldn’t quite meet the other boy’s eyes when he’d said that last bit. “I ... I really did want you to ... you know ... kiss me.”

He risked another glance and was relieved to see that Haze’s anger was now gone. The young man was grinning instead, looking sheepish and coy.

For the next few minutes they sat together in silence, wearing nearly identical expressions, smitten and shy, but undeniably happy. Occasionally, they would take turns glancing over to the other, smiling broad smiles and even laughing just the tinniest bit, whenever they made fleeting eye contact.

Blake soon felt anxious again, but it was not at all like the unpleasant feelings from the night before. This kind of nervousness felt fantastic. He felt his heart soar and for a long while it seemed that nothing could sober this mood.

Until he thought about what they’d just been talking about.

“But ... what about ... Patty?” he reluctantly asked, loathed to ruin the moment, but determined to put this issue to rest.

“I ... I dunno ...” Haze said, visibly distressed. “I dunno what to do about that.”

Blake frowned, the answer seemingly obvious to him.

“You have to tell her how you feel,” he demanded, unhappy about the almost brattish tone of his own voice, but unable to deny that he’d meant every word.

“I ... I know ... but it’s complicated ... I ... I don’t have a choice. Not right now.”

“Why?”

“I ... it’s ... a long story. I can’t really explain ...I will, but ... just ... just not now.”

Blake wasn’t happy about that.

Not by a long shot.

However, he could sense Haze’s unwillingness to be pressed any further on the topic and he didn’t want to risk undoing all the progress they had made that night. So, reluctantly, he forced himself to drop the issue.

At least Haze seemed to accept it was an issue and that they would have to speak about it again.

For now, Blake told himself, that would have to do.

Then he noticed that Haze was holding out his hand and turned to look.

“What’s that?” he asked, glancing at the scrunched up piece of yellow paper Haze was holding in is outstretched hand.

“My number,” Haze mumbled sheepishly, his eyes in his lap once more.

Blake felt that warm, happy feeling again as he took the smudged and crumpled post-it note from Haze’s hand and looked at it, dumfounded.

“So ...ya can ...ya know ... call me,” Haze suggested, his cheeks burning. “If ya want ... or somethin’,” he quickly added.

“Anyway I ... I gotta get going ... but, I thought ... maybe ... well um ... tomorrow, since Jill ain’t got any bookins. Well ... maybe. Maybe ya might wanna ... um ... do somethin’? Like come over?”

Haze seemed to struggle with every word, but to his credit, he did manage to make eye contact in the end, when he’d actually got to the invitation.

“S-s-sure ... sure. Yeah ... um ... yeah, sure.” Blake stuttered, equally unable get the words out of his mouth, suddenly returning to his usual nervous stumbles. “That would be ... awesome ... oh, but ... but what about ... your mum?” he then added as an afterthought, realising with a sudden pang of anxiety that they hadn’t talked about Haze’s mother at all.

Blake clearly remembered how desperate Haze had been to keep her away that afternoon. Surely this would prove to be a problem?

Haze’s expression darkened a little at her mention, but only for a brief second.

“She’s ... not gonna be there tomorrow,” he explained, though he did seem a little uncomfortable with the topic. “She’s leavin’ town in the mornin’, won’t be back till the night.”

He then looked up and grinned.

Blake smiled broadly too, happy to put to one side the issue of Haze’s mother as well, at least for now. He was too thrilled and excited by the prospect of spending a whole day with Haze to worry about either Patty or Penelope.

He was going on a date with Haze!

At least it sounded like they were going on a date?

It was a date, surely? It had to be.

“I ... I better get going,” Haze mumbled, nervously getting to his feet and interrupting Blake’s internal thoughts.

“Oh ...um sure,” Blake responded, unable to hide his disappointment, but getting to his feet without protest all the same.

He made a move for the door at the same time Haze did and then the two of them ended up dancing around the coffee table a few times, trying to get past each other.

“Er ... after you,” Haze chuckled eventually, cringing awkwardly, but smiling too.

Blake managed to get past this time and over to the door, where he suddenly seemed to have all sorts of trouble getting it opened. First he locked the door by mistake and then he had to unlock it again, the shaking of his nervous hands making it all the more difficult.

However, if he’d felt uncomfortable before now, what followed brought new meaning to the term.

There he stood, holding the door ajar, suddenly face to face with Haze, who was trying to get around him. Except Haze didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He just stood there, expectantly, as if waiting for something.

Blake felt himself blush.

Maybe Haze wanted to kiss him again?

However, second after second ticked by and Haze didn’t move an inch. He just stood there looking at his shoes now and then, grinning.

Doubts and fears began to creep into Blake’s mind.

What was wrong?

Didn’t Haze want to kiss him anymore?

Why was he just standing there fidgeting?

Then at last Blake remembered that he’d pushed Haze away the last time he’d tried to kiss him. The blue-eyed boy was probably too discouraged by that to try again so soon. Or maybe he just wasn’t sure anymore what to do?

Blake realised, with a dawning sense of anxious dread that it would be up to him to initiate something this time. Except he had no idea how to do that. They were only inches apart and yet Haze may as well have been on the moon so far as Blake was concerned.

But then, as the seconds continued to tick by, a small, unhappy looking frown started to descend upon Haze’s face, and Blake, terrified by the notion of the young man getting the wrong idea, finally sprang into action.

He reached out and took each of Haze’s hands in his own, eyes downcast, watching as his gently caressing thumbs drew circles on the other boy’s palms. Then he pulled them closer, finally summoning up the courage to raise his head, just in time to see Haze’s eyes close.

He leaned in and their lips touched, softly, hesitantly.

And then they kissed some more.

It was completely different to the other times they had kissed, Blake noted. It was full of the same need and naked desire, but it was not as forceful or urgent this time around. There was passion there, such passion, but it was calmer somehow, a dizzying kind of pleasure rather than a desperate hunger.

Blake wasn’t sure which style of kissing he preferred more, but he was left with no doubt that either would do and both were mind-blowing.

When finally they drew apart and Blake dared to open his eyes again, what he saw there, in Haze’s face, was different too. They were both breathing harder, but there was none of the wild, fearful shock in Haze’s eyes this time. Not like yesterday on the boat. This time, there was only a contented kind of wonder, mixed with shyness and a bit of a goofy grin as he stared into Blake’s eyes.

Blake forgot about his nerves as he reached up to cup Haze’s cheek with his hand, his thumb stroking the skin above the boy’s cheekbone. Haze seemed to nuzzle the hand a little and offered no resistance when Blake drew their faces together once more.

They kissed again, this time a little more vigorously, but still managing to maintain that romantic edge, rather than a more lustful hunger. Blake felt the other boy’s mouth part as their tongues entwined and teased and tasted. Haze tasted a little sour, Blake noted, like some kind of beer. At first this barely registered, but then a nagging thought brought him crashing back to earth.

He pulled away and although he tried to quickly look at his feet, Haze noticed something was up.

“What?” he asked, looking worried all of a sudden.

“You taste like beer,” Blake answered honestly, his voice getting ahead of his brain once again.

Haze backed away and covered his mouth with his hand, as a look of shame crossed his features.

“Sorry ... I ... I didn’t mean ...”

“Shh ...” Blake said, reaching out to press a finger across the other boy’s lips. “It’s ... not ... it’s not bad ... it’s ... it’s just ...”

“What?” Haze asked again, reaching up to take hold of Blake’s hand at the wrist.

“Are you ... are you just ... drunk?” Blake asked, unable to keep the fear from his voice.

Haze’s brow furrowed.

“Tomorrow ... are you gonna remember any of this tomorrow?” Blake finished, his voice now barely a whisper.

Haze seemed to relax a little and he smiled shyly. He then took hold of Blake’s hand in both of his own, gently pulling it closer, towards his mouth and stooping to sweep soft kisses across the fingers and knuckles.

“I’m not drunk silly,” he said, before adding, “... well ... maybe a little, but ... I’m not gonna forget.”

Then he let go of the hand and reached out to lift Blake’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact as he spoke.

“I’m not gonna forget this night ever,” he promised, face solemn.

Blake felt that warm rush of happiness again and his insides strained as if his chest were about to burst.

“I hope not,” he responded, as the smile returned to his face.

“Trust me,” Haze said, breaking into another grin as well.

“Okay,” Blake said, but then his smile faded a little. “But you have to trust me too, okay?”

Haze quickly nodded.

“I mean it,” Blake said, “I know it isn’t easy for you ... but ... it isn’t easy for me either.”

Haze looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Yeah ... I ... I’m not good at ... trustin’ ... feelin’ vulnerable ... feelin’ anythin’ really,” he admitted, his expression a little more serious too. “But I’ll try. I promise.”

“Me too.”

After that, they returned to grinning at each other like two crazies.

“What?” Blake eventually asked, when his cheeks were burning too much to keep eye contact.

“What yourself?” Haze responded, equally shy.

He then leaned in and again they were kissing, if only briefly and chastely, before Haze drew back.

“I really gotta go ... mum’s waitin’ for ... I ... I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Um ... see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

With a last nervous chuckle and grinning like a maniac all the while, Haze finally made his way through the doorway and out into the warm summer night’s air.

Blake continued to hold the door open, leaning on the handle as he watched Haze leave. The man was walking backwards down the path, smiling, staring back, as if reluctant to turn away. Then he tripped on something and glanced down at his feet, brining a huge smile to Blake’s face and an even bigger one to Haze’s.

“Night, Blake.”

“Night, Haze.”

And with that Haze finally turned around and made a dash across the darkened street.

Blake stood there and watched his shadowy form until he could no longer make it out from the surrounding darkness. He then finally closed the door and leaned his back against it, grinning inanely to himself.