How The Light Gets In - 2. Chapter 2

At 6:15 Matt was in the cafeteria, antsy and bleary eyed after a restless night in Scott’s narrow bed. Even in the darkness, Josh’s photograph had haunted him. He couldn’t let it go. Several times he’d actually turned the light back on so he could stare at it, searching the laughing face for something he couldn’t quite remember. Finally, he’d reached out in the darkness and turned the damn thing face down.

The only other people in the caf were the gymnasts, sitting together quietly around a table by the far wall. He was alone in line; the staff was still back in the kitchens prepping. He was waiting in a daze for someone to bring scrambled eggs to the steam table when he felt two hands slip inside the back pockets of his jeans, and then a body press tight against his back.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” came a light, playful voice in his ear – followed by the quick, hot flick of a tongue. “If it isn’t the ski queen himself.”

Matt forced himself to stay calm, taking a deep breath and stepping forward to create a few inches of space between his ass and whoever was pressing against it. The guy respected the space – but kept his hands in Matt’s back pockets, squeezing his ass gently with his fingertips. Matt reached down, took both offending wrists lightly in his hands and removed them, turning around with the friendly, open smile he’d perfected long ago as the perfect disguise.

The face he found himself smiling down into was blonde and pretty, with wide blue eyes and a promising, pouty mouth.

What Matt thought was: Oh, fuck, get me out of here.

But what he said, in the half-bored, half-friendly drawl that came back to him so easily it scared him, was: “Well if it isn’t Stevie boy. And just what evil wind blew you in?”

Stevie Harris, his small, slight form accentuated by impossibly tight black jeans and a close fitting white shirt artfully untucked, giggled, tossed his mass of white blonde curls, and broke into a wide, impossibly innocent smile.

And impossible was the word. Because, as Matt had learned the hard way, Stevie was about as far from innocent as it was humanly possible to be. Of all the dangerous boys Matt had played with in his lost days, Stevie was the sweetest, the most generous, the most seductive – and the most dangerous of all. Because, though he looked like a mere slip of a boy, Stevie was tough, and determined, and wiser than all of them. No matter how hard and wild he played, Stevie always seemed to be able to walk away.

Matt, like so many others, had not been so lucky. He’d had to be dragged away, kicking and screaming, and even now, even now…

Stevie gave Matt his most guileless smile. “Well, sweetie,” he said. “You spoke so highly of the place, I thought I’d give it a try. But I never thought I’d run into you here. I thought you were done.”

Matt shrugged. “I just came back to finish off a few things.”

Stevie looked serious for a moment. “Yeah, I heard you had a little trouble. Then you were just gone --”

“Nah, I’m good,” said Matt, with a shrug. “Just got fed up with Banff, is all. Got an offer to teach at Whistler, so I headed out there for a while. Good times there.”

Stevie said nothing for a few seconds, and Matt could see his clever little mind turning over. Then he giggled again.

“Whistler,” he said, arching one carefully shaped brow. “I might have known. Where else would our ski queen go?” He glanced around, then stepped close, running a hand up the inside of Matt’s thigh and then cupping him through his jeans.

Matt knew better than to react. Stevie could do camp to levels even Rufus only dreamed of. Twisting his mouth into an indulgent smile, he let Stevie’s hand lay, until he saw one of the kitchen guys emerge. Then, with a quick upward tilt of his head, he winked and stepped backwards.

Matt smiled at the guy behind the counter who was putting a huge tray of scrambled eggs on the steam table. Loading his plate, he said to Stevie. “You’re here awfully early. Never thought of you as a morning type.”

Once more the giggle and the head toss. “Early? Late, you mean. I haven’t been to bed yet – and…” again the dramatically arched brows, “I’m staaaaarving, darling.”

“There’s someone else here you know,” said Stevie, reaching past Matt to grab a couple of muffins. “Kieran.”

Kieran. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Matt couldn’t put a face to it.

“Come on,” said Stevie, nudging him with a shoulder. “You haaaaave to remember Kieran.” He leaned over and whispered in Matt’s ear. “You sucked him off in the ski lift. Twice.”

Matt closed his eyes for a second. Focused on not reacting, on breathing steadily. Maybe that information should have helped – but it didn’t. Matt had sucked off a fair number of guys when they had one of the enclosed chairlifts to themselves. It was one of the reasons he was such a popular ski instructor among a certain…crowd. His special skills were a secret all over the resort.

He had especially liked to do the fragile ones, the wide-eyed high school and college kids hovering in the closet doorways, and the sad, middle aged guys trapped in closets and marriages who’d never made it out at all. Matt had loved the way it scared them – scared and thrilled them half to death.

It thrilled him, too – not so much the sexual act, but the fact of having them trapped, dangling from a cable climbing a mountain, helpless as he took them tenderly in his hand, in his mouth, and then tucked them away afterwards. He’d loved that feeling of … of… what? Power? Superiority? Gloating?

He didn’t know what to call that feeling, still didn’t really understand why he’d craved it. Every time he’d done it, lured another nervous guy past the point of no return, he’d rejoiced at the thrill of it -- then hated himself a little more. His therapist had told him he had to let it go, and God knows he was trying.

Stevie was looking at him curiously. “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Matt shrugged, smiled a tight little half smile that projected vaguely amused boredom. Remember them? Why would he want to remember them? “I’m sure it will come back to me,” he said.

And inside, he felt sick.

By this time, a few other people had started to arrive for breakfast and Matt used the opportunity to take another few steps away, helping himself to a muffin. Other kids were starting to wander in, and finally, to his enormous relief, he saw his brother’s familiar bulk in the doorway. What Bran lacked in height he made up in muscle; he was the captain of the St G’s rugby team and built like a fucking tank.

Matt watched while Bran made his way to Laura, who was perched at the gymnasts’ table, and stopped to kiss the top of her head. Then Matt saw her nod towards him. He locked eyes with his brother across the room and beckoned him over with a tilt of his head.

Stevie noticed the gesture. His eyes narrowed as he watched Brandon cross the room.

“Ooooh, muscle,” he said. “I like. How long have you had him – and when will you be done with him?”

Matt just smiled and shook his head.

“Hey,” said Bran, nudging Matt with his shoulder.

Matt smiled his relief. “Hey yourself.”

Stevie pressed closer, running a hand up Brandon’s arm with a dramatic sigh. “Soooo. You going to introduce me, Matt?”

Bran kinda froze and looked at Matt uncertainly.

Matt sighed heavily. “Sure,” he said. “Stevie, this is Brandon. My brother Brandon. My very straight brother Brandon.”

Stevie removed his hand from Bran’s bicep, and started to laugh. “You prick,” he said to Matt cheerfully. Then he offered Bran his hand. “Your brother did that on purpose,” he said with a frank smile, dropping the pose and the drama like an old coat. “He always did like to take people by surprise.”

Although he’d expected it, still Matt marveled. Everything was an act for Stevie. So easy to pick up and put down. Even the hard stuff. That’s what made him so seductive. So seductive and so very dangerous.

Bran solemnly shook Stevie’s hand, looking thoughtfully from him to Matt. “And you two know each other – ?”

“From out west,” Matt said with a shrug. He tried to sound cool, but he felt Bran’s eyes burning into him.

“I see.” Bran turned to Stevie. “It was nice meeting you,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I need my brother for a few minutes.”

Matt saw Stevie’s brows rise slightly. “Sure,” he said. Then he turned to Matt. “Kieran and I are having a party tonight, just a few guys over, you know? Why don’t you come by? Be fun.”

Matt glanced at Bran, who met his eyes calmly and steadily. “Maybe,” he said coolly.

“Let me give you my cell number,” said Stevie.

Eventually he wandered off with his tray of muffins. As soon as he’d cleared the line, Matt turned to his brother, his vision blurring with unshed tears. He didn’t give Bran a chance to speak.

“You gotta help me get out of here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I thought I’d put it all behind me, but the shit’s followed me.”

He felt the weight of Bran’s arm across his shoulders.

“It’s ok, man,” he said. “We’ll find you someplace. And in the meantime, I’ll stick close.”

***

On the corner of the breakfast bar, Josh kept a retired laptop which he used mostly for recipes and banking. Now, as he scrambled eggs for the two of them, he watched Scott use it to check his email.

“Yes!” Scott said, smacking the granite countertop with the palm of his hand. “Finally.”

Josh couldn’t help grinning at the boyish gesture. “What?”

“Luc. He’s finally made contact.”

“Good,” said Josh, keeping his smile fixed as he turned his attention back to the eggs.

He’d known Scott would hear from Luc at some point, but he was still a little… unprepared for it. They hadn’t talked much about the fucked up Quebecois boy from downstairs over the last month. Not since Luc had returned to Montreal with his parents. Scott had seemed reluctant to discuss it, and Josh, always almost obsessively respectful of the privacy of others, had been careful not to ask.

And he wasn’t going to ask now. As much as he wanted to understand what had happened between them, he would wait until Scott was ready to tell him.

He chopped up some chives and flicked the small green bits into the pan with the eggs and cheese and mushrooms. Two slices of whole grain bread popped up, and 15 seconds later, two more.

“C’mere,” said Scott.

Josh glanced over again, but Scott’s eyes were scanning the computer screen. Josh studied him thoughtfully for a few seconds.

“Give me a minute,” he said finally. “These are just done.”

He loaded up the plates with eggs and toast, and brought them past the breakfast bar to the table. Then he took the few steps back to Scott, who reached a hand up blindly behind him and wrapped it around Josh’s wrist.

“C’mere,” he said again, tugging gently until Josh was standing behind him, pressed against Scott’s back. Scott leaned back and for a few seconds rested his head against Josh’s chest.

Josh smiled at the sudden warmth, the pleasure of the connection. The tiny things, he thought. It’s the tiny things.

Scott released his wrist and started playing with the touch pad. Josh settled onto the empty stool beside him, careful to focus on Scott rather than on the screen. Scott was staring at it worriedly.

“There’s a problem about him coming back,” he said finally.

“What? Is the wrist not healing properly?”

“It’s not that. At least, I don’t think so. Listen.” He started to read. “‘The cast is to come off next week. There have been x-rays and CAT scans, and the consensus is that it is healing well.’”

“That sounds good,” said Josh.

“Yes, but listen to the rest of it. ‘They want me to stay here. My parents and the psychiatrist. They don’t think I should be living alone. My mother has managed to transfer me into McGill for the semester.’”

“That’s not unreasonable,” said Josh slowly.

Scott kept reading. “‘But I don’t want to be here, Scott. I want to come back. I think I need to come back. I understand why they’re worried, but – they’re wrong. I will be fine. I promise. So… and here is the thing, mon ami.’”

Josh couldn’t help it. He looked at the screen, read the words for himself. And hated himself a little for realizing that he was breathing more easily because Scott was editing out nothing.

“‘I need to ask you to help me,’” Scott read. “‘And I know it will be difficult, but I don’t see any other way. I need someone to live with me, at least for a while. Would you do that? Can you help me? I know this is a lot to ask. It isn’t really fair to you or to Josh, but I promise I won’t interfere in any way. I know what you two have already done for me, and I am grateful. Truly. But I need very much to come back, and I don’t know what else to do.’”

Scott fell silent. Josh waited, watching Scott’s right hand tap in agitation against the countertop. Finally, Josh reached out and laid his hand over it, relaxing as Scott turned his hand palm up, lacing his fingers through Josh’s own.

Finally, even Josh’s ability to wait reached its limit. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Scott shook his head and smiled ruefully. “I want to help him,” he said with his typical frankness, “but I don’t think my living with him is a good solution. I don’t think it would be good for Luc.” He paused for a few seconds. “And I just don’t want to do it. I want to be here with you. It’s just --”

“What?”

“If he wants to come back, if he feels he needs to come back, then I have to help him do that.”

“But if it’s not a good solution for you to live with him --"

“I was thinking of Matt. He needs a different place to live. This might be the perfect solution for both of them.”

Josh’s first reaction, to his own surprise, was a swift sudden stab of panic. For most of the last three years, he’d pretty much managed to forget the handsome blonde he’d allowed to lead him home a few times during that weird, awful, liberating period after Graham left. He didn’t think he had any feelings for Matt – or for any of the boys he’d been with in that thankfully brief period of craziness. But somehow the idea of him living down stairs, of running into him on the elevator, bothered Josh.

And he wondered what the fragile Quebec boy would make of the sexually aggressive blonde.

“You really think that’s a good idea?” he asked.

“Why not?” said Scott. “I mean, he needs a place to live… and Luc needs someone there. And Bran said Matt’s got a car here, so he doesn’t have to worry about buses. I think it could work very well for both of them.”

Josh wondered exactly how to word this. Matt was, after all, the older brother of Scott’s closest friend. Finally, he just said it. “Matt’s a bit of a player, Scott.”

Scott met his eyes, his grey gaze calm and thoughtful. “Matt was a player,” he agreed. “But I don’t think he is, now. I mean – I know that’s how you remember him, but that was over two years ago. Bran says he’s different now. That’s he’s left all that behind. He’s had a rough time...”

Josh suddenly wanted contact, reassurance. He reached up and wrapped a hand on the back of Scott’s neck and squeezed.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I don’t know a lot about where Luc’s head is right now, but I doubt that being hit on by his roommate is going to be good for him.”

“So we make sure Matt won’t hit on him,” said Scott.

Josh laughed. “And just how are we going to manage that?”

“We’ll ask him,” he said simply. “Besides, you and I are here to keep an eye on Luc. And Bran’s here to keep an eye on Matt. Unless --”

“What?” Josh asked.

“Unless it will bother you.”

“Unless what will what bother me?”

“Having Matt live downstairs.”

“Why should it bother me?”

Scott just studied him with those calm grey eyes. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Josh sighed heavily. “You want to know exactly what there was between me and Matt?” he asked.

Scott looked away. “You don’t have to tell me any more than you already have.”

“If he’s going to live downstairs, then I think maybe I do. Otherwise, you’re going to wonder.”

Scott looked at him with troubled eyes and said nothing.

“I told you that after Graham left, I had a short period of being a little wild. Kind of, well, slutty, actually. A couple of days a week I’d go to Rainbow, and let some random guy pick me up. Hand jobs mostly. The occasional blow job.”

Josh took in Scott’s flinch, but refused to react to it. He had done this. He wouldn’t do it again, and he wasn’t proud of it, but he’d gotten past the shame. He saw it more as a right of passage: something he’d done and come to understand. He’d put it behind him now.

“There were maybe six or seven guys altogether,” he said quietly. “Matt was one of them. I don’t think any of the others are still here.” He grimaced. “I’m not sure I’d even know them again anyway.”

Scott nodded.

“Actually, Matt was the last. And the only one I went with more than once. After him, I… I rather lost my taste for it. Or came to my senses, maybe. Anyway…” He put a hand on Scott’s arm. “I gave him three blow jobs.”

Scott dropped his head, but Josh reached across the table and touched his jaw.

“Look at me, ok? I want you to know this. That is absolutely all there was between Matt and me. Three blow jobs. Well, I gave him three blow jobs. He gave me two. Because the last time… the last time, I didn’t let him. It just….it just made me feel too… cheap, I guess. And sad. And empty.”

Josh managed to keep his voice calm, but he felt that familiar tightness in his throat, and he was the one who looked away. Scott’s large hand closed around his wrist, and then he felt a kiss in his palm.

“Josh?”

He still couldn’t look up, even when he heard Scott slide off the stool.

“Josh,” he said again, more quietly.

Josh felt both his hands taken in that strong grasp, tugging him to his feet. Then he was led back across the living room and into the bedroom, where Scott eased him gently back onto the unmade bed. He then lowered himself so that his large, powerful body pressed Josh into the mattress.

“I don’t want you ever, ever, ever to feel like that,” he said, leaning in with soft, sure kisses. “Never.”

Josh closed his eyes, giving himself up to Scott’s mouth, to his kisses that were warm and sweet and sure, to his murmured words of comfort and of care. He’d worked all this stuff through, he knew. He’d reconciled the need, put aside the shame. But somehow Scott offered him more than that. Somehow, mingled words and kisses reached beyond understanding, beyond forgiveness even. Somehow, with Scott’s mouth loving his, Josh felt truly absolved.

There was no haste to their loving, and despite their quickened breath and trembling hands, no urgency. They undressed each other slowly, sharing the joy and wonder of the mystery that was between them. This was love soft and sure and sweet. And when Scott’s mouth took him in, Josh laughed with joy and delight. He knew exactly what he’d exchanged with Matt and those other guys, and it had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.

Some time later, Josh scraped two plates of scrambled eggs into the garbage and started cooking again.

***

Scott’s message arrived at 8:43am, just as Luc was preparing for yet another trip to the hospital.

“Finally!” it said. “I’m so glad to hear from you. Great news on the hand. About not being alone in the condo – DO NOT WORRY. If you need a roommate, I will make sure you have a roommate. I’ll call you tonight and we’ll talk about it. If you need to be here, then we’ll make it work. Make sure your cell’s on at 9.”

Luc stared at the screen, and allowed himself to hope.