The Choices We Make - 5. The Tension

Like all children with Asperger syndrome, Zack and Zane Langstrom didn't relate to people very well, if at all, but not for lack of trying. As a general rule, the fifteen-year-old identical twins liked people and were in fact gregarious; they just had no ability to react properly to social interactions, often overwhelming people with their rapid, erudite, pedantic speech and narrowly fixated interests, all without comprehending the verbal and non-verbal cues coming from other parties. Which of course made interactions awkward and often left people feeling uncomfortable and seeking retreat from the boys. Well, not awkward for the twins, who wanted to engage rather than retreat. But for other people? Yeah, pretty much awkward.

For reasons people could only theorize, there was one person the twins were drawn to more than others, a person who somehow understood them, related to them, felt comfortable with them and unflinchingly spent time with them that seemed meaningful to everyone involved. That person was Brody Windham.

"I'm always shocked when they cuddle up to you like that," Lara said to Brody. "Honestly, a little part of me is jealous—they're my brothers, for goodness sake—but the much larger part of me is thrilled they have someone they feel comfortable with."

Brody sat in the middle of the Langstroms' couch with Zack and Zane stretched out on either side of him, their heads in his lap, both boys absorbed in their reading. Jace and his sister Lara sat on the loveseat.

"They cuddle with him more than I do," Jace mumbled, not wanting his father to hear the remark.

"Only when we're here," Brody assured him in a low voice.

Though the twins didn't like physical contact with others, including their own parents and siblings, Brody was the exception. Zack and Zane were demonstrative with the jock in ways that ran counter to their usual self-enforced no-touching rule.

Lara turned to her brother and gave him a mock scowl. "Everybody needs physical affection, Jace. Be happy for them."

"I am, little sister," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm just being facetiously jealous."

"Look who I found waiting out—Brody Windham!" The name echoed around the room like a clap of thunder, sharp and edged and accusatory. Helene stood in the open front door, purse over her shoulder, one hand on the door knob and the other on the hip she'd thrown out for emphasis. Trish stood on the porch behind her staring wide-eyed into the room.

Jace's mother glanced around before her fierce glare settled on Brody's stricken face. "I've told you repeatedly I don't want you around the twins when I'm not here. They have special needs. You're wholly unqualified—"

"Helene!" That bark snapped seven pairs of eyes toward the hallway where Darryl stood, all six-and-a-half feet of him. Helene's husband was a trim man with a subdued approach to life, quiet and gentle. So when he raised his voice, it took everyone by surprise. "I'm here," he continued, not quite as loud yet a lot more perturbed. "Brody's doing nothing wrong."

"Mrs. Langstrom—"

Her eyes snapped back to Brody's. "This is my home—"

"It's my home, too," Darryl interrupted, "and I said he could hang out with the kids until he and Jace head over to the Windhams' place."

"You're working, sweetheart," Helene began, her eyes hardly spending a moment looking at her husband with affection before a tempestuously untrusting sneer returned to Brody, "so you can't be expected to—"

"Helene!" he barked again. "I said it was okay."

Again she glanced at Darryl. Then, as though he hadn't spoken, her voice cut through the silence. "Zane, Zack, go to your rooms." When they looked ready to protest she added, "Now!"

The twins rolled off the couch as one, shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. "We hope to see you soon," Zane said to Brody, then Zack added, "We look forward to it." With those browbeaten declarations clearly said for all to hear, the boys walked around opposite ends of the couch and made their way down the hall to their rooms.

Brody stood, looking meek and chastised. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Langstrom, Mr. Langstrom. I should go."

"Mom, what's wrong with you?" Jace asked defensively, a not inconsiderable amount of venom in his tone.

"Don't you start with me, young man."

"Helene!" Darryl said, this time standing beside her. "What the hell's wrong with you? I was here, I said it was okay, end of discussion."

"We're leaving," Jace announced.

"You boys have a good evening," Darryl said over his shoulder, wincing at the hollowness of his words under the circumstances. When he gave his daughter a look, Lara got the hint and mumbled something about getting ready for a movie and dinner with her friends as she ambled down the hall. She didn't hide the confused anger in her expression when she glared at her mother.

Darryl pulled Helene into the house and told Trish, "This isn't a good time."

"I'm here to pick up Lara," she responded.

"Fine." He waited for her to enter before pushing the door shut. "Make yourself comfortable." Then casting an unpleasant glare at Helene he continued, "I need to talk to my wife."

She stiffly yanked her arm from his grasp and stormed across the living room into the kitchen. He stayed right on her heels.

"Mind telling me what the hell that was about?" he inquired with a stern rebuke in his tone.

"I've told him before—"

"I was here, Helene. He wasn't breaking your rule."

She dropped her purse and keys on the counter. "The twins have needs—"

"Special needs. Yes, I'm their father, so I'm well aware of their needs. That doesn't explain your growing hostility toward Brody."

"It's not hostility, Darryl, it's common sense. They need stability, someone they can rely on who won't hurt them."

"Brody would never hurt those boys." He couldn't keep the disbelief out of his voice even if he'd wanted to. The thought of Brody hurting Zack and Zane was too preposterous to contemplate.

"He'll leave them," she argued, defiant.

"What?"

"When he graduates, he'll leave them behind. It'll hurt them."

"He's going to UT Austin, not UCLA. He'll be in town regularly to visit his folks and his sister and his friends."

"That's not the point."

"Jace is going to the same school. Why not be mad at him? Why not deny him access to the twins unless you're there to chaperon?"

"That's different."

"No it's not! You treat that poor boy like a criminal for no reason, Helene. It's horrifying—"

"He's going to hurt them, Darryl! You mark my words, he'll hurt our boys—"

"What in blazes are you on about?"

She ducked her face and shook her head, a slight tremor quaking her body. When she looked back at her husband, an ardent malice furrowed her brows and pursed her lips and squinted her eyes. "He was sick, Darryl! He almost died. What if he gets sick again? Jace is one thing, but Zack and Zane—"

"Has Jayne Anne said something about Brody's health?"

"What? No..."

"Ben and I had drinks just last week. He says Brody's doing fine, fit as a fiddle, checkups every six months, still taking his meds, no sign of trouble."

"That's not the point."

"When was the last time you talked to Jayne Anne about this?"

"I... Well..."

He leaned in close to her, anger in his voice. "You've chased away your best friend because you resent her son—"

"That's outrageous!"

"Ben told me, said you and Jayne Anne haven't talked in months, explained that she's pretty upset about how you treat Brody."

"I never—"

"Care to tell me the truth? Why you resent him?"

"He's going to hurt our boys. I already told you that."

Darryl stood to his full height, his eyes never leaving his wife's face. Silence settled between them as they stared at one another. Finally he said, "You're alienating your own children because you have some unknown issue with Brody. You've alienated your best friend because you have some unknown problem with her son." Poking a finger in her face he told her, "You need to figure your shit out, Helene."

He turned and took one step before swinging around. "And the next time I say something's okay, it's okay, end of discussion. Brody's good for the boys. Their doctor and their therapist said as much, said we should encourage and support that bond because it's essential for them. If you care one iota about your kids, you'll figure your shit out and stop being such a bitch to that boy. And you better do it before you make all your children hate you."

As she watched her husband turn and walk away, Helene shook her head again, scowling. Couldn't he see it? Was he that blind? Brody was taking their boys away from them. First Jace, now the twins. If she didn't do something about it, he'd take Lara away as well.

Somehow the Windham boy had developed a relationship with her boys that was stronger and more potent and deeper than anything she'd ever had with them. She didn't see it coming with Jace, so that took her by surprise. She tried to stop it with the twins, yet there it was anyway.

Darryl had once hypothesized offhandedly that something about Brody's leukemia episode early in life had imparted to the young man an intangible quality that allowed him to relate to Zack and Zane as an equal whilst simultaneously allowing the twins to feel both understood and appreciated, something they rarely if ever felt with others.

Regrettably, a relationship that should've been celebrated and promoted was instead a point of contention with their mother. It all boiled down to jealousy. She resented Brody's relationship with her sons—not just the twins but Jace as well—and she couldn't quite bring herself to be mature about it.

All the while, Trish stood in the living room as close to the kitchen as she could be without Darryl and Helene seeing her. She'd overheard the entire argument. It made her feel deliciously giddy.

* * * * *

"Care to tell me why you're both so quiet?" Ben asked, letting his eyes sweep back and forth between Brody and Jace.

Jayne Anne sat quietly and watched them, letting her husband lead the conversation. Neither boy was known for reticence, so when they arrived that afternoon looking forlorn and disconcerted when normally they'd be boisterous and roguish and engaging, both she and her husband knew right away what had happened. Or they suspected anyway.

"It's nothing," Jace offered weakly. "I think we're both tired."

"Yeah, just tired," Brody muttered, not taking his eyes off his plate. He hadn't eaten much, mostly just pushed his food around. Everyone at the table noticed because everyone at the table paid special attention to Brody's diet, not to mention everything else about him.

"Might this have something to do with Helene?" Ben prompted.

Brody and Jace glanced at each other, then like a scripted scene they both shrugged at the same time.

"Brody," Jayne Anne started.

"I don't know why she doesn't like him," Jace said abruptly, surprised by his own words.

Brody shrugged again. "It's okay."

"Not it's not," Jace argued through gritted teeth, shaking his head. "It's not okay at all."

After giving her husband a look, Jayne Anne asked, "Are you not hungry, Brody?"

"No."

He wore his heart on his sleeve, his parents knew that, and he hated not knowing how to fix the problem with Helene. He was close to everyone in the Langstrom family except her. And that lack of closeness translated to strain and upset that he disliked, that constantly abraded him until he felt raw and wounded. He also felt threatened by it, fearful that it might someday cause his relationship with the twins to break or, worse, cause him to lose Jace. And that was the worst fear of all.

"Why don't you boys go on up and I'll bake some cookies. That'll make movie night better, won't it?"

For the first time that evening, Brody smiled, a weak attempt, but still a smile.

"That would be nice," Jace responded for both of them.

Ben and Jayne Anne watched the boys head up the inside staircase to the garage apartment. Then they looked at each other.

"I'm going to kill that woman," she said under her breath.

* * * * *

Brody and Jace had watched three movies, consumed two dozen cookies fresh from the oven, and finally agreed around two in the morning that they needed sleep.

After ensuring the garage apartment was secure for the night, Brody slipped out of his clothes and slid into bed beside the man of his dreams, wrapping Jace in his arms and pulling him snuggly against him.

"Oh..." Jace moaned.

"What?" Brody inquired, worried.

"Just a memory."

"What memory?"

"Like this."

"Pardon?"

"We were like this, you the big spoon and me the little spoon with the moon shining in the window just like tonight."

Brody inhaled sharply. "Oh..."

"You scared me half to death that night."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did."

"Why?"

"I... I thought I'd hidden how I felt about you." Jace wriggled further against Brody, pulling his arms tighter around him. In a whisper he added, "And I didn't know you felt that way about me."

"I almost kissed you before Mom knocked on my bedroom door."

"I know. But I was working hard to convince myself that that was something else."

* * * * *

Five Years Prior

They'd eaten dinner in a quiet very much unlike their usual selves. Ben and Jayne Anne and Jenny had cast curious glances at Jace and Brody throughout the meal, the three of them dumbfounded by the unusual dearth of interaction between the boys.

No one said anything, though, because no one had a clue why the atmosphere felt so charged with tension. Brody and Jace had been inseparable since kindergarten with nary a day passing without them seeing each other, laughing and joking and talking and whispering and essentially lavishing each other with all the attention they had to give.

An extended period of quiet with strained glances and wary words felt alien to everyone. But invariably every relationship hit a rough patch or two, thus the Windhams felt disinclined to interfere unless it all went sideways.

Once they'd helped clear the table and clean the dishes, Brody and Jace excused themselves and headed back to Brody's room.

"At least that hasn't changed," Ben remarked to Jayne Anne, who was busy herding Jenny toward her nightly bath.

"Whatever it is," his wife said as she fussed at her ten-year-old daughter to get her behind in the bathroom, "I'm sure they'll work it out."

"I hope so."

* * * * *

Brody and Jace watched television in self-effacing silence. Both had ensured a small measure of space between them as they sat on the bed, backs against the headboard. That few inches felt like a chasm, but the night's unwavering tension and unflinching quiet made it a schism of profound proportions.

Jace felt certain he'd misunderstood that moment before dinner when he'd thought Brody intended to kiss him. He just knew he'd misread the signs. But what filled him with fear was the harsh truth of the event: Jace had let his mask slip, had erred when he let Brody see his feelings for that brief instant, had made a major mistake by opening himself to his friend after assuming his feelings were reciprocated.

But everything since then had proved his impression wrong. They'd gingerly danced around each other, avoiding touches that usually came naturally and unconsciously, hardly speaking a word to each other when they'd normally be voluble, and casting their eyes far and wide in attempts to avoid the other's gaze when so much of their time was typically spent watching each other for the silent dispatches and inside jokes and bonding glances.

How could he have been so stupid? It was Brody's look that threw him off. Jace could've sworn he saw affection and desire in Brody's expression, especially his eyes. Obviously he'd been wrong. And that left him pondering how to fix what he'd clearly broken. Because he'd obviously made Brody uncomfortable given the night's increasing tension.

Brody had other worries on his mind. He knew Jace felt the same way. He'd seen it in his face, his eyes. As he'd leaned toward him, he'd watched Jace's eyes flutter shut, his lips part slightly, his cheeks flush. Then when Jace's eyes snapped open, as though he'd suddenly realized what was happening, his pupils had been dilated and there'd been so much emotion roiling in those emerald depths.

Yet Brody had no clue how to take the next step. All he knew was that he had to be courageous. He had to take a chance. He had to make the choice to take the next step and let Jace make the final decision. But how?

After several hours of subdued conversation and mindless television, Brody muttered something about being tired and Jace mumbled in a vaguely affirmative way that he too wanted to go to sleep. The boys tended to their nightly ablutions before undressing to their underwear—they'd long since become accustomed to sleeping together that way—and slipped into bed. A vast canyon of empty space separated them.

Not even a wedge of light entered the room beneath the door. Brody rolled onto his side facing Jace and castigated himself for his lack of action. He just couldn't think of a way to address his newfound knowledge. Would leaning over and kissing Jace be too much? Would wrapping his best friends in his arms and snuggling up to him cause further tension? Would just admitting his feelings deepen the rift that seemed to grow between them?

As he stared at Jace's prone form, watching just the barest hint of shadow upon shadow, a full moon slowly rose above the horizon. Its spotlight shone through the window to Brody's back and illuminated the room in subtle blue light.

He couldn't be sure how long he stared at Jace, how long he vacillated between action and inaction, but Brody began doubting his own conclusions. He'd misunderstood Jace's reaction in that heated moment before dinner. He'd projected his own feelings onto his best friend, thereby misrepresenting Jace's actions in his memory as harboring meaning they lacked. He'd let hope blind him to truth that—

He murmured, shifted a bit, then Jace rolled onto his side so he faced Brody. His eyes remained closed. Brody continued to breathe evenly and deeply, eyes wide. The moonlight from his back cast a shadow over part of Jace but left most of him clearly visible.

Jace wondered if he'd ever have another chance to watch Brody sleep. He'd been doing it for years, waiting for his best friend to fall asleep and then letting his eyes consume every detail, every contour of his body, ever idiosyncrasy of his breathing, every twitch of his muscles, every movement of his eyes beneath shut lids.

Well, if he'd ruined everything between them with that terrible mistake earlier, Jace figured he might as well get his fill before it ended. The wearying, physical ache he felt inside would no doubt burgeon into real heartache, a debilitating anguish that would take years to subside, but before that happened he intended to enjoy this one last night of watching the most beautiful man in the world as he slept.

Brody watched as Jace's eyes opened. With the window behind him, he knew Jace couldn't see that his eyes were also open. Thus Brody stared in wonder as Jace's eyelids slowly parted, the barest reflection the only indication they'd done so. And then they opened fully, Jace's emerald eyes taking on the hue of verdant moonlight as he stared directly at Brody's silhouette.

Jace couldn't make out any details save a few hints here and there, yet his breathing hitched and became ragged as he looked at the shadow shaped like his best friend. Hair lightly tousled. Strong jaw and proportional ear, moonlight sliding across his cheekbone. The strong neck and shoulders. The defined arm. The bare torso tapering to a slim waist. And the rest hidden beneath the sheet.

He didn't know how long he allowed his eyes to wander up and down Brody's body, but mostly Jace's gaze meandered back to the darkness where Brody's eyes hid. He stared at that shadowy realm. And stared. And stared.

As if of its own volition, Jace's hand began to move, slipping silently across the bed, moving toward his best friend. He didn't stop it. In fact, he willed it forward, quietly, secretly, wanting just this once to touch the man he loved so dearly. Touch him with affection and intimacy instead of friendliness.

Brody watched Jace's hand approach, watch it move like a serpent as it slithered forward. When it rose from the bed and hovered in the air, Brody almost stopped breathing. Almost. He watched the hand begin moving again, toward his face, the fingers gently splayed, the moonlight illuminating the sparse hair on Jace's arm.

And still those eyes watched him. So full of life. So full of affection that Brody could see. So full of love.

Just before Jace's hand reached his cheek, it retreated. Brody watched it go with a pang of disappointment.

Jace rolled onto his back, heaved a great yet quiet sigh, stared at the ceiling. He threw an arm over his eyes and let the other fall to the bed beside him.

He'd chickened out. He'd lost his nerve. He'd crumbled beneath the weight of his own want, too afraid to act, too nervous to be strong, too lacking to make the choice. He'd been thwarted by his own shortcomings, once again letting his intellect rule his heart.

Brody could feel the self-deprecation rolling off Jace in waves, the disgust, the dashed hopes. But his best friend's failure had reinvigorated Brody's resolve, had shown him he'd been right, had read the signs correctly. So it was time to act.

Without hesitation Brody lifted his hand and moved it across the bed and let it come to rest on Jace's bare chest. His best friend's entire body jolted, he gasped, and he automatically lifted his hand and grabbed Brody's. Once he had it, though, he didn't know what to do with it.

Brody was asleep. He'd moved his hand in his sleep. He didn't know he was touching Jace, lighting fires in Jace's body, sending Jace's emotions into overdrive, causing Jace's heart to race until it felt like it would leap from his chest and run away.

He'd enjoy it, that's what he'd do. So Jace flattened Brody's hand on his chest and left his on top of it, holding it in place, fantasizing for a brief moment that it meant more than it did, wondering what it would be like to enjoy this amorous torment every night of his life.

Brody closed his eyes and breathed deeply, feeling a peace spread through him the likes of which he'd never experienced before. Jace wanted him as much as he wanted Jace. This proved it.

The jock slid forward so quickly Jace never knew what happened until it was over. Brody's muscular arm slid beneath his neck as the other slid over his torso. As Brody moved against Jace, he turned his best friend's body on his side and pulled him against Brody, strong arms wrapping around him and holding him tight.

Jace gasped, the inhale sharp and loud. "Brody..."

"Shhh..." Brody kissed his neck, sending a shocked wave of tremors through Jace's body, goosebumps spreading from the point of contact. "Just relax. We'll talk in the morning."

"Brody..." The voice of fear, uncertainty, doubt.

Brody knew Jace all too well, knew Jace spent too much time thinking and not enough time feeling. Perhaps that explained why the signals had remained so mixed, so unclear. Each time Brody thought he saw something, he dismissed it because he could never tell if what he saw came from Jace's head or heart, the source making a world of difference in what it meant.

"Shhh... For once in your life stop thinking so much, Jace."

"But—"

"Shhh..." Another kiss, another chilled shiver, then Brody nuzzled his face against Jace's head until his lips rested just behind the other boy's ear. "Stop thinking. Relax and let it happen. Don't think about it."

Jace opened his mouth to say something, to question, to protest. Then Brody's hand began gently caressing his chest as his other hand grabbed Jace's and held it tight. Warm, moist breath tickled his ear, his neck. Brody's face rubbed into his hair, his noise dropping light touches here and there. And the kisses. Ye gods the kisses! Brody's lips continued to touch first this place, then that place, and finally another place.

"Relax, Jace." The words breathed into his ear and stoked a flame that threatened to burn Jace to cinders right there. "Stop thinking so much and start feeling. Feel me right here holding you. Feel me kissing you. Feel us together right here and right now. Just us, Jace. It's just us and we're gonna be okay."

"Going to..."

Brody snickered. "Asshole." Then he dropped a more passionate kiss on Jace's neck.

Jace's mind went blank and fireworks went off in his head and his heart hammered and hammered and hammered and chills raced up and down his spine. It was wonderful.

He pushed back against Brody and pulled his arms tighter, squeezed his hand harder. Then he whispered, "Is this a dream?"

Brody kissed his neck again before answering, "If it is, I don't ever want to wake."