How The Light Gets In - 16. Chapter 16

An achingly cold January drifted into an even more frigid February, and still Joshua hadn’t managed to get Matt alone. Not for lack of trying.

“You saw what he was like just now in the elevator,” he said to Scott as they made their way through the underground parking lot. “He can hardly manage to say good morning.”

It was true. Whenever they ran into Matt and Luc together, which one or the other of them did most days in the elevator or in the lobby of the condo, it was always Luc who stopped to chat. Matt, calm, polite and totally distant, always stepped outside the circle of their conversation. Josh was always aware of how Matt watched him, though he never said more than a few words.

Matt offered nothing. He never smiled. And neither Josh nor Scott ever saw him alone.

“It’s like Luc’s trying to run into us... and Matt’s doing his best to avoid us,” Josh said when they had settled into the car. “I’m convinced he leaves rooms if he sees me entering.”

“Probably does,” said Scott with a shrug. “I mean... he’s hung up on you – and he knows we all know that. Can’t be easy. And –,” He shook his head ruefully. “You were right. I was pretty hard on him. Harder than I should have been.”

Josh smiled. Scott could be so black and white sometimes. They’d been over this, the intensity of Scott’s fury at Matt for not taking Luc back from the hospital right after his appointment, and agreed that not only had Scott over-reacted, but also that it wasn’t completely Matt’s fault. And it wasn’t just that Matt had had Brandon and Laura to worry about. Luc himself had to take some of the responsibility for the state of his health, for his own recovery. He couldn’t expect Matt to read his mind.

“I’ve been kinda thinking,” said Scott slowly, “That it’s really up to us to make the effort with him. With both of them, really. I mean, I see a lot of Luc in class, and we have lunch together most days, and we’re good. But I only see Matt occasionally with Bran. I never get a chance to talk to him. Maybe we should spend some time with them. Be friends. ”

“I’m not sure that my lecturing Matt about Luc is really going to help with that,” said Josh slowly.

He felt Scott’s hand on his thigh, the quick, reassuring press of fingers. “We both know you won’t lecture,” said Scott. “Really, he just needs to be on his guard. Luc could fall for him. It could happen very innocently.”

“Still,” said Josh, sighing as he turned the key, shifted into reverse, backed out carefully.

Of course it was true that he had no intension of lecturing. But he really wasn’t sure what he should do. Josh wasn’t comfortable with intervening in someone else’s life this way. An almost obsessively private person himself, he had an equally obsessive respect for the privacy of others. Matt had made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with him, and under normal circumstances, Josh would have respected that decision.

But these, he knew, were not normal circumstances. This wasn’t about breaching Matt’s privacy; it was about protecting Luc. And Josh felt very protective towards Luc. He had, after all, literally saved his life. While it was Scott’s quick, calm thinking that had got him there in time, it was Josh himself who had found Luc unconscious on the floor, held his head in his lap and listened to the laboured breathing, prayed for the ambulance to get there in time. It wasn’t surprising, then, that his feelings of protectiveness towards the fucked up Quebecois boy were deep and surprisingly tender.

Besides, Scott has asked for his assistance.

“Just... ask him how it’s going,” said Scott. “Get him to open up to you a little. Then... suggest. You know, the importance of friendship to Luc at this point.”

“I don’t know,” said Josh doubtfully.

“I think you can talk to him,” said Scott earnestly. “Really talk to him. I kind of think he wants you to.”

Josh thought about that as he shifted into drive and made his way out of the underground lot.

“Maybe,” he said finally. “But if that’s true, he’s done a remarkably good job of avoiding me. I’m not even sure I can create the opportunity to talk to him. I’ve been trying for the last two weeks.” He laughed. “Sometimes I feel like I’m stalking him – and I’m just really bad at it.”

They were half way to the university when Scott came up with a plan.

“Got it,” he said suddenly. “I know how to make this work. Can I have your car tonight? Don’t worry, I promise you’ll get home.”

Josh nodded. Scott pulled out his cell and flipped it open.

“Luc? Scott. You going to be at the study group this afternoon?”

Pause. Then, “Good. Can we ask you and Matt for a favour? Josh wants to head home a couple of hours early this afternoon. Can Matt give him a lift? That way, Josh can leave me his car and you can drive home with me.”

Scott covered the phone with his hand. “He’s asking Matt. But I know Matt has nothing on while we have our study group; he just hangs on the other side of the room with a coffee, and studies until we’re done.”

He removed his hand. “Great. Perfect,” he said into his phone. “Josh will meet him...”

“Student parking lot,” Josh murmured. “Any time after 2.”

Scott finalized the arrangements, leaving Josh to ponder the conversation he would soon be having with his former – what?

Indiscretion?

He didn’t want to think of Matt as an indiscretion.

To be honest, Josh didn’t know how to think of Matt at all. They hadn’t been friends. They hadn’t even been acquaintances. Before he’d gone off with him to his room that first night, Josh had had no real idea who Matt was – just some hot blonde guy who’d been willing to make the first move, which he’d done with obvious experience.

In other words, exactly what Josh had needed – or thought he’d needed – in those strange, strange weeks after Graham left.

He and Matt had been... an encounter.

Then they’d been several encounters.

And Josh didn’t want to remember any of them. Because remembering what he had done with Matt meant remembering why he had done it – and that had altogether too much pain attached to it.

For Matt too, Josh expected.

He felt bad about that. If what Brandon had told Scott was true – and he had no reason to think it wasn’t – he’d hurt Matt without even being aware of it. It had never occurred to him that the kind of anonymous encounter his battered ego had craved would somehow lead Matt to fall into something he couldn’t get out of. Josh knew only too well how that could happen.

And yet.

There had been something about Matt even then. Something Josh had recognized. Something that had made him go with Matt a second time. And a third. Something that, in the end, had made Josh give up anonymous sexual encounters altogether. Now he remembered Matt, and only Matt, from that small, dark, stormy sea of otherwise anonymous faces.

Because whatever his issues were, Josh had the gut feeling now – and had had the gut feeling then – that Matt was one of the good guys – or that he could be, if he let himself. Josh could like Matt a lot, they could be real friends – ifMatt would give him the chance. But if Matt’s determined avoidance was any indication, that was a bloody big if.

Maybe Scott was right. Maybe it was up to the two of them to make the effort.

“There,” said Scott, as he replaced his phone in his pocket. “He’ll meet you at 2:30. Beside Luc’s car. That’ll give you ten minutes to talk to him. Make the most of it!”

“Maybe I’ll ask him up for coffee,” said Josh thoughtfully.

Scott was silent a moment. “You sure you want to do that?”

Josh knew what Scott was asking.

For the last few years, the only person who invited up to the condo was Scott. Even his parents hadn’t been there. He had always been a private person; after Graham left, the condo had become his refuge, his place to hide from life.

And then there was the painting.

But it was time for him to get past all that. The condo was so much more than a refuge now. It was a place where life happened. A place where love happened.

And Josh had not been that boy in the painting for a very long time. The youth with the wild black curls was just an idealization of young manhood. He was not, as Scott had pointed out, so obviously Joshua. Even Scott had not noticed right away.

Besides, he owed Matt some kind of explanation. Some kind of apology.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s time.”

***  

It was almost 3:00 when Matt finally made his way to the student parking lot. He’d delayed as long as possible, created a dozen meaningless errands, and even now he was walking as slowly as he could. If it weren’t so damned cold, he’d be walking more slowly still, but the afternoon, despite the bright sun, was bitter, with a cutting ocean wind. He was fucking freezing.

All day he’d been dreading this. All day, he’d been wondering what the fuck was going on.

Matt was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He knew damned well this was a set up to put him and Joshua alone together. Had to be. Otherwise Scott would have asked for a ride home for himself. And Matt had been avoiding Joshua for weeks now. Every time he turned around, Joshua seemed to be there, trying to get him to hang back in the lobby, trying to get in a few private words as he and Luc were leaving the elevator. A couple of times he’d even seen Joshua hanging about outside his classes.

Joshua wanted something. Matt knew he wanted something. And Matt wasn’t sure he was ready to find out what.

The obvious thing... the obvious thing was that Joshua wanted what all the guys wanted from him. The scared boys. The party boys. Stevie. Kieran.

Sex – quick, good, and without commitment. It was all any of them ever wanted from him. All that virtually every guy he’d ever known seemed capable of wanting, when you came right down to it.

Matt knew why. He had no illusions about who he was, what was expected of him, what in the end he was good for. And they were right about him. In the end, it was about hooking up. Nothing more. You could play at the idea of relationships, but really it always came down to pleasure. Gay guys were all the same in the end. Hell, Joshua was the closest thing he knew to different , and even Joshua had wanted nothing more than that from him, and from a bunch of other guys as well.

Was that what Joshua wanted from him now?

Had to be. Why else would Joshua would want to be alone with him? It wasn’t like Matt had anything else to offer.

Thing is -- if that was what Joshua wanted, could Matt give it to him?

Could he refuse?

The cold made him walk faster, and then he was there. And there was Joshua’s tall, lean profile across the parking lot. He was hatless, and his hands were buried deep in the pockets of his black leather jacket. He’d pulled the red scarf up over his mouth, and turned his collar up against the wind.

He looked absolutely freezing.

Matt was half way across the lot when Joshua turned his head and noticed him. Green eyes seized his, and Matt couldn’t look away.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said as he reached the car. He fumbled in his pocket for the key.

Joshua nodded and said nothing. As Matt unlocked the doors, Joshua pulled his scarf down, revealing the finely drawn mouth.

Matt’s breath caught. Even now, after almost three years, he was still haunted by that mouth. The firm line. The red curve.

Lips that even in his dreams parted and trembled and took him in – but never offered or permitted a kiss.

Lips that never, never smiled.

Joshua did not smile now, and as Matt stared, his mouth disappeared behind the white puff of exhaled breath.

“It’s good of you to offer me a ride back,” he said finally.

Matt just shook his head as the locks clicked open.

It was freezing inside the car too – but at least they were out of the wind. He started it up in the frigid silence. They were making their way through the parking lot to the road before Joshua spoke again.

“How are things going?” he asked.

“Fine,” said Matt.

“Luc?”

“Fine.”

Another silence.

This one lasted all the way through the university campus and out onto the highway.

Matt could not resist a few quick sideways glances. Joshua sat very still, staring straight ahead. As the car warmed up, he’d undone his jacket, unwound his scarf, and now the afternoon sun stroked the planes of his face, the line of cheekbone, jaw, neck, the curve of lip, the faint shadow of blue black beard. It
was the first time he’d ever seen Joshua up close, in daylight. He was so beautiful, it hurt.

Just looking at him made Matt feel it all over again. The way he’d felt that night, when Joshua had pushed him away in disgust.

He felt cheap. And lost.

Ignore it, he told himself firmly. What was the point? He was what kind of guy he was. Sluts – even good hearted sluts – didn’t have the right to feel like that.

With that realization, Matt decided he just didn’t want to know what Joshua wanted. Knowing, deciding, giving, being taken – he told himself he didn’t want it. It could only cost too much. Better just to drive Joshua home and stay silent.

But knowing that, and managing to ignore Joshua sitting beside him, were two different things. Which was why, by the time they were well along the highway, Matt had noticed something. Joshua was nervous. He was hiding it well, beneath a surface stillness, but Matt was good at seeing beneath surfaces.

He wondered what could Joshua could possibly be nervous about. Hitting on him? Surely no one worried about hitting on guys like Matt. Stevie sure didn’t. Or Kieran. Or all the other boys, men.

But Joshua....

He thought back to those days at Rainbow, when Joshua had just sat there, alone at a table with a bottle of wine and a glass. Waiting. He wondered if Joshua had any idea how to go about hitting on someone.

They were almost back at the condo before Joshua spoke again. “So you and Luc are getting on okay?”

“Fine.”

“No problems?”

“None.”

“Sure?”

Matt’s control snapped.

“What is this?” he demanded. “The third degree?” And he almost winced at the sound of his own voice which, even to himself, sounded too loud, too harsh, too defensive.

For once he had nothing to be defensive about, he reminded himself. He hadn’t sought out this encounter. He’d been doing his damnedest to avoid it.

“No,” said Joshua, calmly, quietly. “It’s an attempt at conversation.”

Matt breathed deeply. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what the fuck was going on, but he was sure he wanted this drive to be over.

Finally it was. Matt parked in silence, and in silence they made their way to the elevator. When the door opened, Matt stood by to let Joshua go before him. His relief was painfully short lived. Because just as Joshua reached for the eighth floor button, he turned to Matt.

“Come up to my place,” he said.

And even as a part of Matt thought Fuck no, here it comes, another part, a deeply, deeply wounded and fragile part, surged with joy.

He fought it.

“Why?” he demanded, looking Joshua straight in the eye.

There was nothing in that calm, green gaze that he could understand.

“Coffee?” Joshua asked. “Conversation?”

“And?”

Joshua flushed a little and looked away. “And I need to talk to you,” he admitted.

Yeah, right, thought Matt wearily.

But he learned something about himself in that instant. He learned that if there was a chance that he could be with Joshua again, a chance for even a few stolen moments, he had to take it.

He knew it was wrong.

He knew it was dangerous.

He knew it risked everything he’d worked for the last year and half.

He also knew that none of that mattered. If he could see Joshua, touch Joshua, be with Joshua one more time, he could not walk away.

“Fine,” he said.

He wanted to weep.

Every illusion he had – about Joshua and about himself – shattered.

***

Matt followed Joshua into the kitchen, registering only the basics about the condo. The bones of the place – the basic layout, the wall of windows overlooking the ocean – were pretty much identical to Luc’s place; the sophisticated designer finishes, however, made it look and feel completely different. But Matt’s attention was not on space or details. It was fixed on Joshua.

He watched Joshua set up the coffee, mesmerized by the easy grace of his movements, the line of his back, the quickness of his fingers. He watched silently, then silently followed Joshua into the living room.

And saw the painting.

Seven feet high and some ten or twelve feet long, it took up almost the entire wall opposite the windows. A true master work in the hyper-realist style, brilliantly executed, it was a forceful mirror of wind and wave and pounding rain. And to one side of the canvas was a tribute to beauty unlike anything Matt had ever seen. A naked young man in profile, head thrust back in ecstasy, black curls clinging wet to his skull.

Joshua.

Joshua beautiful and strong and sure and joyous.

Joshua as Matt had never even dared to dream him.

Matt trembled, overwhelmed.

He stood before the painting for a long time, not so much staring at it as lost within it. He was aware of Joshua behind him, but somehow the Joshua in the painting, the younger Joshua with the wild black curls, seemed more real to him, more immediate. Even the painting’s sky and sea seemed more real than the grey Atlantic on the other side of the windows.

“You,” he choked out.

“Yes.”

“So that’s why you stayed. Because he could make you feel like that.”

“Could make me feel like what?”

Matt turned slowly. Joshua’s face was still, rock-like. Silence stretched between them, and Matt could not break it.

“Could make me feel like what?” Joshua asked again.

The question, Matt realized, was sincere. Joshua really wanted to know what emotion Matt thought the artist had captured.

A strange intimacy was established between them, a fine delicate line that Matt was afraid to break. He turned back to the painting and studied it a while longer.

“Joyous,” he said finally.

“Joyous,” Joshua repeated.

“Yes. At first glance, I would have said –” Matt swallowed, looking at the painting, intensely, painfully aware of Joshua standing behind him, listening, breathing. “I would have said that you almost look like you’re coming.” His soft laugh was bitter. “Maybe you are. Maybe that’s what he’s captured there, what you look like when it’s... good, when –.”

He stopped. He couldn’t very well say that he had never seen joy on Joshua’s face, or admit that both times he’d made him come, Joshua had been just... sad. Beyond sad. Broken hearted.

That would mean admitting his own failure to touch Joshua. It would mean admitting that he was still haunted by that failure.

He felt Joshua’s hand on his shoulder, and turned around slowly. The touch was light but seemed to burn through his sweater to his skin. He raised his head, met Joshua’s gaze. The connection between them blazed, immediate and urgent.

Matt realized that only complete honestly would do.

He tried again.

“This –,” He gestured at the painting behind him without breaking their visual connection. “This is about release and joy. I never gave you that. He did. I guess that explains why you stayed with him for so long when – when no one could figure out why.”

Joshua’s hand dropped from Matt’s shoulder as he turned to study the painting. Matt started breathing again. He wondered what Joshua was thinking. Was he remembering what it was like with the artist? Was he regretting?

Matt thought of his own experiences with Graham Campbell. It had been in the winter of his freshman year, a wild, liberated time. He’d tried so hard in high school, dated girls, kissed girls, even managed to make it with a few girls... all the time feeling so hollow, so empty. Then he’d arrived at St G, a thousand miles from home, and he didn’t have to pretend any more. It had been such a relief. He’d been positively giddy with the freedom to be who he was.

He’d fooled around a lot that year, and not with any girls at all. Looking back now, it had been a time of innocence. Fun. Just fun. He’d been happy.

The first time he’d gone off with the Scottish artist was because he’d been curious. Campbell had shown up some time after Christmas. There were rumours that it had to do with a student there, but Matt hadn’t known who. He’d never seen Joshua. All he knew was that this guy was a really important painter, world famous, even. And he was attractive for an old guy, tall and thin with a strong, wiry body, thick dark hair shot with grey, and narrow, hooded eyes so deeply brown they were almost black. There was a lot of interest in him, despite his age.

A few of his friends had let Campbell pick them up, and had found him fun in a kind of wild and intense way. He’d tried to pick Matt up a couple of times, and one night, after a beer or three too many, Matt had agreed, allowing himself to be led off to an empty room down the hall from Rainbow. It had been quick and easy and fun. And then one night, Campbell invited Matt out to his farm, saying he might want Matt to model for him. Matt had agreed. It had been against his better judgement – but there was something compelling about the artist. Something that made it hard to say “no.”

And he’d been flattered.

He vividly remembered the huge, cold room Campbell had turned into his studio, the easels and canvasses, the smell of paints and spirits.

And the mirrors. Huge mirrors. Propped against every wall.

There had been something exciting about the artist too. A hint of danger. Matt wasn’t normally attracted to older men, but he remembered standing in that cold studio, and Campbell standing there with him, watching him with those intense black eyes, his shirt open, his lean, hard muscled body threateningly attractive. He’d undressed Matt so swiftly, so roughly, that afterwards Matt was surprised to find no rips or tears to clothes or skin.

At one point, he’d taken Matt’s face in his hands, his fingers stretched to his cheek bones, his thumbs pressed just a little too hard into Matt’s neck, just below his Adam’s apple. It had been thrilling somehow... and dangerous.

“Graham Campbell is a complete bastard.” Joshua said.

Matt turned, found Joshua still staring at the image of himself.

“That’s what this is really about.” Joshua’s voice was calm and without emotion. “Joy? I suppose so. I’d just punched him in the face.”

When Matt gasped in surprise, Joshua turned to him, his face calm, expressionless.

“Don’t look so shocked. He hit me first, and it wasn’t the first time. But it was the first time I hit him back. The only time in my life I’ve ever hit anyone. It felt... amazing.”

His lips softened for a second into a small, crooked smile that was there and gone.

“Free,” he said. “Joyful, if you like.”

Matt was confused. Joshua’s sudden openness surprised him, and he wondered what the fuck it meant. It seemed like a bloody strange prelude to seduction. Or did Joshua feel he owed Matt something? Some kind of explanation first, a clearing of the air before a quick... what?

Matt wanted to believe that Joshua owed him something, but he knew it wasn’t true. No one owed Matt anything. He was who he was, he’d done what he’d done – with Joshua, with all of them. What came after was inevitable. He’d got pretty much what he’d deserved. From Joshua, from all of them.

Matt studied the other man thoughtfully. Beneath the careful calmness, he could see the fine tension around his mouth, the tightness in the muscles of his throat. He glanced down; the smallish, delicately boned hands were gripped into fists.

Matt had two choices. He could stay silent and hope Joshua would continue to talk, or he could ask for more, and risk the sudden fragile connection between them. When Joshua showed no sign of speaking further, Matt decided to take the risk.

“Then why?” he asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

“Why what?”

“Why did you stay with him? You were so young, so –”

He was going to say “so beautiful” but what the fuck did that have to do with anything?

Joshua’s looked at him steadily. Matt waited – a million breaths, a million heart beats.

“I loved him,” Joshua said finally.

***

There was something so... absolute, so devastating about Joshua’s admission. Matt didn’t know what to say.

“I will not indulge in revisionism,” Joshua continued, his voice calm, his face expressionless. “I know what he did to me. I know I was too young. I know he abused me. I know it was wrong. None of that changes how I felt. I won’t lie to myself about that. I loved him. With the intensity that only a first love can have. What he did to me doesn’t touch what I felt.”

Matt knew from the careful shape of Joshua’s words that this was something he’d wrestled with long and hard. But when he thought of Campbell, of the core of violence that he had himself sensed within the artist, Matt had to ask.

“Why?

Joshua shrugged, shook his head. “We love who we love. Sometimes, the person we love is... not worthy. Doesn’t change how we feel.”

“And Scott?”

“Scott loves me,” said Joshua.

“But he’s just a big kid,” said Matt. “He’s what – 19?”

A slow, slow smile broke over Joshua’s face. “20 in a couple of weeks. But he’s an old soul, Scott. ” There was kind of wonder in his voice as he spoke.

“Do you love him?” Matt asked.

“Yes,” said Joshua simply. “I won’t lie to myself about loving Graham, because I did. He... hurt me. Deeply. I’m a different person now, different from who I was, different from who I might have been. But it doesn’t matter. Because as much as I loved him – it doesn’t touch what I feel for Scott.”

So what the fuck am I doing here? Matt wondered.

He felt his heart shut down.

“Did Graham love you?” he asked.

Joshua’s mouth hardened, and Matt thought for a moment that he’d gone too far.

“Never mind,” he said. “It’s none of my business. You don’t have to answer that.”

But Joshua just shook his head. “Maybe I do,” he said, turning away from Matt and from the painting, and walking over to the window, as if it would be easier to talk to wind and wave than to flesh and blood.

Matt followed slowly, stopped a few feet behind him.

“He was... obsessed with me. He used to say I had the most revealing face he’d ever seen. That every emotion I had was completely open to him. He used that, used me. Whatever emotion he needed to paint – he’d push me to that. Pain. Fear. Betrayal. Love. It didn’t matter. Whatever he needed – he did whatever he needed to do.”

“Shit,” said Matt softly.

Joshua continued to stare out the window. “He said my face haunted him. That he was afraid it would somehow end up in every painting he did for the rest of his life.”

“He said mine was useless to him –, ” Matt muttered.

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Josh turned around. “You were with him, then.” It was a statement, not a question.

Matt could not believe he’d actually said that out loud. He knew it was Joshua’s openness, his honesty, the intimacy of this conversation that had made him drop his guard. But though Matt had not intended to tell Joshua this, now that it was out there, he knew he couldn’t lie about it.

He nodded slowly. “Three times,” he admitted. “Twice at Rainbow, and the third time he took me to the farmhouse for a few hours. It was in my first year. He showed up at Rainbow fairly regularly.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about you then. I was a bit of a slut, but I didn’t fool around with guys in relationships. Didn’t need to – there were more than enough unattached ones.”

“Don’t apologize. Graham wasn’t attached – I was. And it’s not like you were the only one. Not even close.”

Joshua was watching him, his voice even and distant. “So he took you to the farmhouse and fucked you,” he said.

“Well, he took me to the farmhouse,” said Matt.

“Then he let you fuck him?” For the first time, Joshua sounded surprised, almost shocked.

Matt’s laugh was small and bitter. “Hardly. He took me to the farm and we played around a bit. He was what, 40? 45? I was only 18 for God’s sake. A slut in my own sweet way – but even I had my limits. I wasn’t going to do that.”

A flash of pain slashed across Joshua’s face. Then nothing. Just that calm, calm mask.

“I didn’t like him,” Matt admitted. “He scared me a bit. I mean – he didn’t do anything to me but – I sensed that he could. That he might. He was so fucking strong. I avoided him after that.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Smart boy,” he said.

Matt met the cool green eyes and did not look away. “Before we went out the farm, he said he might like to paint me. But after we were there, he changed his mind. He said I was, um, a beautiful boy, but that I’d be useless to him.”

“Why?”

“Because my face was closed to him, whatever the fuck that meant. He said I was full of secrets already. That I would always find it difficult, if not impossible, to open up.”

“Whereas I had the most open face he’d ever seen,” Joshua said after awhile.

“Not anymore,” said Matt. “There was a time when I would have said that too, but not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s what’s changed most about you. You were so hurt then, in so much pain. It really was written all over your face. ”

“I’m sorry,” said Joshua.

And suddenly Matt knew they were talking about something else altogether.

“I wanted to help, you know.” His voice broke and he looked away.

“I was beyond help,” said Joshua softly. “Way beyond. I had to heal myself first.”

“And I was just an available slut.”

Joshua winced. “Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Refer to yourself that way?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “You of all people should know the answer to that. I saw the look on your face. You couldn’t even let me –”

Joshua looked puzzled.

“For fuck sake,” said Matt brutally. “That last time. When you wouldn’t let me blow you. I saw the look on your face. The absolute disgust...”

“Oh, God,” said Joshua. “Not you. I didn’t mean you. It was myself I was disgusted with.”

Matt swallowed hard. “And that is supposed to make me feel better how?”

“Matt. I had a bit of a strange period for a few weeks after Graham left,” said Joshua slowly.

“I remember,” said Matt.

“I... I went with a bunch of guys.”

“I remember.”

“After you, I didn’t do that anymore.”

Joshua reached out to touch Matt’s shoulder, but Matt avoided it. He went to the window. Josh followed him, stopped just behind him. He didn’t try to touch him again.

“I’d have been there if you’d let me,” said Matt. “I’d have helped. I’d –”

Matt felt tears at the back of his throat and couldn’t go on. Then he felt Joshua’s hand on his shoulder. This time, he let it stay.

“You did help,” Joshua said, pressing his fingers lightly.

Matt felt the touch deep in the core of himself. Powerfully, like a current, a river, like the sun. “I would have done just about anything,” he said, pressing his forehead against the window.

“I know,” said Joshua.

“I don’t just mean sex,” said Matt bitterly.

“I know that, too. I knew it then, in a way. I knew it was wrong for me to be with you. I mean, I knew it meant something to you. That it could have meant something.”

“Never mind,” said Matt, turning and walking away from the warm hand on his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“I think it does,” said Joshua. “If you would take the time to understand.”

Suddenly, Matt just felt overwhelmingly tired. If Joshua wanted to fool around with him, he was going about it in the most bizarre way. And he really couldn’t think of any other reason Joshua wanted to be alone with him.

“What am I here for, Joshua? You said you wanted to talk to me. What about?”

Joshua sighed. “Let’s go get some coffee,” he said. “It’s got to be ready by now.”

***

“I’ve been very honest with you,” said Joshua, as they sat in the living room.

“And?”

“And I guess I kind of hope you’ll be honest with me, as well.”

“About what? My sordid past? Forget it. I’m trying to.”

“About Luc,” said Joshua.

Matt sent his cup carefully on the glass coffee table in front of him. “What about Luc?”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay, to see if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Luc, Matt thought. This is all really about Luc.

“He’s fine,” he said aloud. “The physio’s rough, and he has a lot of pain, but he’s coping.”

“And things between the two of you are good?”

“They’re fine. What’s this about? Is it because of what happened at the hospital? Luc and I are way past that. He’s more open about when it hurts, and I pay more attention, okay?”

“Yes,” said Joshua. “That’s great. It’s just – God, I don’t know how to say this. It’s just – Luc needs a friend, Matt. A friend he can trust. We’re just a little concerned that – you know. He’s very fragile.”

Matt slammed his fists down on the coffee table so hard his coffee splashed onto the glass and chrome and dripped over the edge onto the rug. He ignored it.

“So that’s why you wanted me up here,” he said bitterly. “Warning Matt the slut. Making sure he keeps his hands off the fair Luc.” He stared at Joshua, fists clenched. “All that talk just now,” he said. “What the fuck did it mean? Do you have any idea who I am at all? Just what kind of an asshole do you think I am?”

***

Matt felt like he’d been hit.

Luc was... Luc was the only really good, really pure thing in Matt’s entire life right now. The friendship between them was special. It had been there ever since the night Luc had told him about Daniel. Matt didn’t understand it, but he knew it was delicate. Fragile. It mattered to him deeply.

That night, they’d held each other for hours, each comforting the other with simple body warmth, each drawing strength from the small, soft kisses that had started gentle as breathing, deepened, then gentled again, until finally they had both drifted into sleep.

Matt had awakened first, stiff and sore, with Luc pressed across his body, his face against Matt’s neck. Matt felt every breath Luc took, warm and damp and somehow lovely against his skin. He stayed still awhile, eyes half closed, ignoring his cramped muscles to allow himself the tenderness of it for a few minutes.

Finally, when the awkwardness of his position demanded movement, he awakened Luc gently, with soft kisses and quiet whispers.

“Hey, you. Time to wake up.”

At first, Luc’s waking was slow and dreamy, as he wrapped himself more tightly around Matt and rubbed his cheek against Matt’s shoulder with small sighs. Matt shifted his weight a little, allowed his fingers to tangle in the sleepy, black curls.

It was only when Luc was fully awake that he realized where he was. Matt knew the exact instant, because he felt Luc’s entire body stiffen and start to pull away. He tried to push off Matt’s chest with his left hand, and gasped in pain, collapsing back against him.

“Shhh,” Matt said soothingly, drawing him close. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We just fell asleep. Be careful of your hand.”

Luc settled back against him, curling his wounded hand into a soft fist. “What time is it?” he asked sleepily.

“Bedtime,” said Matt, not bothering to look at his watch. And without thinking, he dropped a kiss onto the top of Luc’s head. Breathing in the smell of those wild curls felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Luc raised his head slowly, and Matt found himself looking down into wide silver-blue eyes. Matt felt a hand reach up around his neck, and pull him gently down. He felt a small, sweet kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” Luc whispered.

Matt had held him close for a few more minutes, and said nothing at all.

Since that night, there was a strange peace between them, a new and growing trust. They hadn’t touched again, not like that. But Luc played the piano for him now, with his good right hand. And he left his door open at night. Twice he’d cried out in his sleep, and Matt had gone in to him, awakened him slowly, given him his pain tablets, sat beside him on his bed until he fell back into a quiet sleep.

Matt wasn’t going to let anything threaten Luc. He didn’t care what anyone thought. Not even Joshua.

“God, Matt, I’m sorry,” Joshua said. “Really sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. We’re just worried. His parents, his psychiatrist, didn’t really want him to come back here, and we feel responsible. I found him. You have no idea –”

“You really think I have no fucking idea?” Matt demanded. “I live with him, remember. Every fucking day. I see the pain. I see the scars. I see what he struggles with. You think I don’t know? You think just because I blew you a couple of times, I’m gonna seduce this kid? Fuck. You didn’t need any seducing, as I recall. None at all.”

“Don’t, Matt,” Joshua said.

“Don’t what? Don’t call a spade a spade?”

Joshua reached out for him again. “Don’t do this. You’re a good guy. You deserve –”

“Save it,” said Matt, shaking him off angrily. “I know what I deserve. I know how it will all end up. I’ve seen it. I’ve fucking been there,” he said bitterly.

“Seen what?” Joshua asked. “Been where?”

“I said save it,” said Matt, rising to his feet. “Don’t worry about your precious little French boy. He’s safe from me. I actually have some morals you know. I can recognize someone genuinely innocent, someone genuinely in pain –”

“Matt, please. That’s not what I meant. It’s not just anything you might do. It’s Luc. He could fall for you so easily. You have to be careful. You don’t understand –”

“I understand perfectly. You survived your slut period, and went on to meet the lovely Scott, whose old soul is meant to be with yours, now and forever. I get it, ok? And I get that I’m still the slut with the heart of gold, but by the way, stay away from Luc, because he’s too fragile, too precious, too special to all of you for someone like me...”

A noise interrupted him, and they both turned to see the door to the condo open. Luc came in first, followed by Scott.

Joshua stood and headed towards them. “Hey, guys,” he said. “There’s coffee already made. Come on into the kitchen.”

Scott moved through the room with the ease of being at home. Luc was slower, more tentative, looking curiously about him. He stopped in front of the painting. Matt watched him, mesmerized.

He saw Luc’s gaze slip over the beautiful form on the left side of the canvas, then shift to the centre, and to the right, to the sea and sky, as huge and powerful and intimate as the view from the window.

“That is amazing,” Luc said, turning slowly towards Matt. And he did the oddest thing. He stretched out his hand towards Matt. Though he could feel Joshua watching, Matt went to him. Luc’s fingers lit gently on his upper arm.

Matt looked up into silver blue eyes that were wide with wonder.

“It’s like another window into the Atlantic,” Luc said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Matt felt an almost overwhelming desire to reach out, to glide the backs of his fingers over the curve of Luc’s cheek, the way you would touch a child’s cheek, just for the sheer beauty of it.

“Yes,” Matt said softly. “It’s very beautiful.”

He could feel Joshua watching him, and he turned away.