If Love Finds You Worthy - SaintVince (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue: And By Opposing End Them

Chapter Text

Most people got their name around age eleven or twelve, sometimes even as young as ten, but Benji was a late bloomer. Very late, in fact. It wasn’t until a few months after his fourteenth birthday that he noticed it: a faint shadow forming across his ribs on his left side. He assumed it was a bruise, even though he couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten it, but a week went by and instead of fading it actually began to grow darker. Over the following two weeks it slowly sharpened, and with a deep sense of dread he watched as the letters formed.

The clearer it became the harder it was to hide. He tried to keep it covered as well as he could in the locker room at school, concealing it by angling his body toward the wall or keeping his arm pressed against his side, but there were just too many other guys crowded into the small room to escape their notice forever. Especially since some of them had been hassling him for years about still being unnamed, and sometimes one of them would even go as far as mockingly inspecting him for any sign of it.

The day it finally became legible to him was the worst of all. He took one look at it in the bathroom mirror after he’d stepped out of the shower that morning, read the name that confirmed beyond a doubt that every worst fear he’d been living with for years had just come true, and instantly found himself rushing for the toilet. There was nothing in his stomach to be expelled, but the nausea had him doubling over and retching emptily all the same. When it eventually subsided, he sank down onto the floor with his back against the edge of the tub and stared woodenly up at the ceiling. He didn’t feel named; he felt marked. Branded. Feeling nothing at all would have been better than this, this sense of total powerlessness. Anything would have been better than a shame so thick it made you gag.

“You okay, hon?” his mom called through the door. Her voice sounded tired, just like it always did.

“Yeah. I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Do you think you need to stay home today?”

Benji considered it. He almost never missed school, but… He was painfully aware of the letters written darker than ever into the skin over his ribs which could be clearly read now. He had P. E. second period. He’d been lucky so far, but at some point, his luck was going to run out. Maybe if he stayed home, he could buy himself a little time to figure out what to do.

“Actually, yeah. I’m feeling pretty bad, so I think I will stay here,” he said after forcing himself up to his feet and opening the door. His mom was already dressed in a pair of purple scrubs, her dark blond hair pulled back in a neat braid to keep it out of her face. She frowned at him in concern and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.

“Hm. You’re a little flushed but you don’t seem to have a fever. Just a stomach bug, you think?”

“Probably.”

“Well, remember to drink plenty of water and get some rest. I’ll leave some medicine on the counter here in case you need it. I’m going to the store after work tonight so I’ll be home late, and I think Asa is planning to hang out at Joey’s house after soccer. But if you need anything just text me, okay?” He nodded and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “See you tonight, honey. Hope you feel better.”

After his mom and brother left, Benji spent the first few hours lying in bed. The nausea was better by then but the shame and the fear had only grown worse. So, too, was the increasing sense of panic. What was he going to do? If anyone saw it they would know about him – the one thing he’d worked so hard to hide was now written right there on his skin and there was no way to remove it. Everyone knew that. He’d heard horror stories about people who’d tried to remove their names, but the rumor was that they always found a way to come back, appearing again over the scar tissue, slightly distorted maybe but never truly gone.

There was one thing he could do to hide it, though. It was kind of insane and he had no idea how the hell he would be able to do it, but it would work. He knew for a fact that it worked because he’d seen it himself – some older guy at a party a few months ago had shown him: a tattoo of a bird in flight inked over the letters of the name he didn’t want.

But for that he’d need money, which he didn’t have, and someone willing to do it, which would probably be almost impossible to find.

If he could at least get the money, then he could figure out the next part. Googling typical prices for tattoos revealed that for the size he’d need the cost could be anywhere between a hundred and five hundred dollars, depending on the artist and the complexity of the design, which was a pretty staggering amount considering his family was far from rich (so far from it they only just barely made rent the last two months) and Benji was too young to even get a part-time job. For a while he sat in bed concocting various schemes to try and get some cash, but none of them really seemed very promising. And then, finally, he remembered what he’d seen in his mom’s room a few weeks ago, in the top drawer of her nightstand – his dad’s wallet.

It was still there when he went to look for it, and with reverence he traced his index finger over a crack in the worn leather before opening it to remove a debit card. As he held the card in his hand, his eyes tracing over the name “Paul Campbell” in silver, that sick, swooping sensation of combined guilt and shame came rolling over him again. God, he hated himself so much for this, even for just thinking about doing it, but what other choice was there? Stealing from his mother would hurt her less than the truth would.

Benji went back to his room and quickly threw on some clothes, tucking his father’s debit card into his own wallet. It hadn’t expired yet fortunately and he still knew the PIN from all the times his dad used to make him run into the convenience store and buy him a coffee and snacks while he filled his truck up at the gas station. Black, with only half a packet of sugar; that was how he had liked it. Benji swallowed hard, more determined than ever to make this crazy plan work, and grabbed his keys.

Bus after bus after bus, from one part of the city to another. Atlanta flashed by in an endless stream of store fronts and houses, red and orange leafed trees lining the streets of the upper-scale neighborhoods while the less prosperous areas passed in a monochrome blur of gray concrete and faded brick. He’d exhausted most of his favorite playlists and the was sun setting through the glass of yet another dingy bus window by the time he’d worked his way through over half of the places he’d looked up online. Everywhere he’d gone all day he’d been met with rejection. No one was willing to do it for a minor without a guardian’s consent, not even when he tried to offer them extra money to have it done under the table.

A quick text to Asa let him know that his brother was planning to eat dinner at his best friend’s house, thankfully, which meant that Benji had at least a few more hours before he had to get home. There were two more places on his list he could hit up in that time, and if neither of them worked out… well, he didn’t know what the hell he would do in that case. Stay home from school one more day in order to keep looking for someone willing to do it? Search for a tutorial on how to tattoo himself? He was pretty sure that was a dangerously stupid thing to do, but he’d never felt more desperate before in his life.

A few stops later he stepped off the bus onto cracked pavement, and the air was noticeably a bit cooler than it had been before he’d boarded. Dry leaves were piled up near the chain link fence in front of him and they rasped noisily as the breeze blustered past. He buttoned up the front of his coat and walked a couple of blocks to the strip mall where the next tattoo parlor was located. It was a particularly run-down area, with a Payday Loans on one side of the shop and a lingerie-slash-adult toys place on the other. He turned his eyes away from the curvy, lace-covered mannequins as he rushed by them.

Bells jangled when Benji pushed the glass door open and walked inside. Like most of the other places he’d been so far that day, the walls were painted a vibrant color (in this case dark red) and covered in illustrations and photos of the various designs on offer. There were a few chairs and a low table at the front of the space near the counter, and behind that the area where the artists worked.

“How can I help you?” a thin, black-haired woman asked as she wandered out from the back room. Colorful ink covered nearly every inch of skin on her pale arms, as well as the space just below her collarbone, and a silver septum piercing shone brightly under the fluorescent lighting. She looked like pretty much every other person he’d spoken to that day. The shop seemed to be empty at the moment aside from the two of them, which Benji was grateful for. If there was any chance of convincing someone to actually do this, it would probably have to be without a lot of witnesses around.

“Hi,” he said, intentionally lowering the usual register of his voice in the hope that it might make him sound a little older than he was. It was probably a wasted effort given that he was short and a little bit on the skinny side; most of the time he was lucky when people could even recognize him as fourteen. “I was hoping to get a tattoo today if you’re available.”

The woman’s dark brows drew together in a skeptical frown. “And just how old are you, exactly?”

“Eighteen,” Benji lied.

She snorted. “Sure. You got any ID to prove it?”

Panic was expanding inside his chest like a balloon ready to pop at any second. He couldn’t live with his secret on display for anyone to discover. He just couldn’t. He’d do anything.

“I forgot it at home. But, look, I have plenty of cash. I can pay whatever you want,” Benji said, too desperate to be embarrassed by the pleading note of his voice.

She sighed, shaking her head at him and pointing toward a sign on the wall reminding minors that parental consent was required for all tattoos and piercings. “No can do without an ID, buddy. Sorry.”

The woman began to turn and walk away, and Benji called out, “Whatever it usually costs, I’ll pay double. I have to get this done today. Please. Please help me.”

She glanced back at him, mouth set in a grim line. “Is this about your name?”

Benji forced himself to nod. Whoever covered it up for him would have to see it. There was no point in lying to her. A flash of sympathy crossed her face, and it sparked hope inside of him. Showing her now, before she’d agreed to anything, was risky – most people would only become less likely to help him once they’d discovered what he was – but there was something about her that made him think that she’d be different. That maybe she would understand. With a careful look around to ensure there really wasn’t anyone else nearby, he lifted up the side of his shirt to expose the name to her. To his relief the sympathetic look in her eyes deepened.

“I can’t let my family find out about it. If I can’t get someone to hide it, I’ll-”

“Stop,” she said firmly. “I get it. You’ll do something idiotic if no one helps you. You’re not the only kid who’s ever been in this situation, believe it or not. We get others like you every once in awhile.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a second and then said at last, “All right, fine. But we’re doing this in the back, and you’re paying extra. Cash only.”

“How much?” Benji asked, and god it was hard not to choke on those words. He hated this, and he hated himself for doing it, but there was no other choice.

“Three hundred.”

Swallowing back the bile that was rising up in his throat, Benji somehow managed to tell her, “Okay.”

She nodded over to the wall of designs. “You know what you want?”

Benji didn’t care – it didn’t matter – all that mattered was getting the name hidden away so that no one would ever be able to lay eyes on it. He scanned the illustrations on display, ready to just choose something at random, when one of them suddenly stood out to him.

It was a bundle of arrows, three of them, wound together with a twisting cord of rope. In English class the day before they’d been discussing Hamlet, and the sight of that design reminded him of a line from the soliloquy they had read. “…whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them?”

“I’ll take that one,” he told her, pointing it out. Outrageous fortune. That was exactly what the name meant to him. As he stared at the picture, he found himself asking, “But, uh, could you change it a little?”

“Sure,” she agreed, “as long as it’s something minor. Anything complicated and I’ll have to charge more.”

“It’s nothing big,” he assured her.

“All right then. Well, kid, let’s get this over with.” She locked the front door and flipped the sign to “Closed”. “Follow me.”

The back room was a cluttered, dim space with a single beat up table and a few chairs. In the air hung the acrid smell of stale cigarettes and weed. Along one wall were metal shelves which were covered in supplies and next to them a small counter with a sink and a microwave. She had Benji sit in one of the wooden chairs while she cleaned the space and got everything set up. The sight of the needle made him feel a little nervous, but it had nothing on the heart-stopping fear that had driven him there in the first place.

He took his shirt off so he wouldn’t have to hold it up the entire time, goosebumps immediately breaking out across his skin, and then she got started. It hurt a lot. She told him that was pretty normal for tattoos in a sensitive area near the bone like his side, so he gritted his teeth and stared off at a corner of the room while she worked. There was music playing from a speaker on the counter nearby and he did his best to focus on that instead of the pain, even though it wasn’t really anything that he liked listening to.

When it was finished, she covered it in bandages and explained the aftercare to him, and then he handed over the cash. It was almost all of what he’d withdrawn from the ATM earlier and watching it leave his hand had him feeling sick to his stomach the entire way back to the bus stop. He had just stepped onto the first of the two buses he’d need to take to get back home when his phone started buzzing.

Asa. sh*t. “Hey,” Benji said as casually as he could manage, taking a seat in the last row of the vehicle.

“Where are you? I just got back from Joey’s and there’s nobody here.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Mom said she had to stop at the store today, and I needed to go out for something. But I’m on my way home now. I should be there in, like… forty minutes, I think?”

“Jeez, did you go into downtown or something? What are you doing, anyway? I thought you were sick today. Were you just playing hooky?”

“No, I started feeling better in the afternoon, and then I had to go out. I just needed to help a friend with something.” Before Asa could ask any more questions, Benji said, “See you soon. Bye.” and quickly ended the call.

Benji barely made it home before his mother did. About ten minutes after he’d gotten back Ruth walked through the door, her arms laden with groceries.

“Hey, Mom.” He walked over to help her unpack one of the bags, but stopped short when he caught the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Asa texted me when he got home and there was no one here. You went out somewhere?”

“Yeah, I just needed to go help Ryan with something for school. I started feeling better in the afternoon, so I figured it was okay to just go out for a little while.”

Ruth nodded, but her lips were pursed, and she still seemed upset. She leaned back against the kitchen counter wearily and crossed her arms over her chest. “What about the money?”

He stared at her in shock. Did she somehow already know what he’d done?

“What?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “The four hundred dollars that were withdrawn from my bank account this morning. Do you know anything about that?”

His heart pounded as he stared back at her and tried to think of something to say. He knew that betraying her like that was an awful, f*cked up thing to do but… he’d had no other choice.

“I – uh, I’m sorry,” he stammered, anxiety making the words small. He’d never seen her look at him the way she did then.

“Where is that money, Benji?” she asked, slow and deliberate.

He swallowed thickly and admitted, “It’s gone. Most of it, anyway. I spent it.” He dug into his pocket for his wallet, removed the remaining hundred dollars, and handed her the bills. “I’m so, so sorry, but it was for something really important. I had to-”

“What the hell could possibly be more important than us paying the rent in two weeks?” she demanded, so suddenly furious it made him flinch. “I have utility and phone bills to pay, and groceries to buy, and gas for the car, and about a million other things, not to mention the medical bills I am still paying off every month. I’m already working myself to the bone to take care of that stuff and we cannot afford for you to just take three hundred dollars. You have to get it back. Whatever you spent it on, you need to return it tomorrow. I don’t care how important you think it is. You cannot just take an amount of money that large and do whatever you want with it. Do you get that? It’s not yours to take.”

“I know,” he said weakly, “I know it was wrong, and I hate that I had to do it, but I did. I had to. And I can’t get it back. I’m sorry, Mom, please-”

“What do you mean you can’t get it back? What did you do with it?”

There were twin spots of red high on his mother’s cheeks, and her body was trembling slightly as she stared at him and waited for a response. He’d never felt worse about anything he’d ever done before, because nothing had ever been as bad as this. How long would he have to live with this sickening guilt?

“I can’t tell you,” he said softly.

“You absolutely will tell me. Right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Benji repeated, pleadingly, desperate for her to understand, but he could already see that it was impossible. She’d never get it. She’d never be able to understand why he’d had to do it, and she might never forgive him for it either.

In the end, no matter how much she threatened and demanded and shouted at him, he kept his secret, and after that his mother didn’t speak to him for the rest of the week. He hardly saw her anyway since she stayed late at the hospital whenever she could, picking up extra shifts. She’d taken the debit card from him and cut it up into pieces, dropping them with a shaking hand into the trash can. For some reason the sight of them there – the shards of something that had once been his father’s – made Benji’s eyes sting with tears. Just another one of Paul’s things that was now gone forever. She grounded him for two months, but he didn’t care. He knew he deserved it, just like he deserved the frigid distance that was slowly and inevitably expanding between them, driving them farther and farther away from one another.

It wasn’t just his mother, though; it felt like Benji himself was drifting apart from everyone around him, from Asa, and from Ryan and all of his other friends. He wondered at times if the awful loneliness he woke up to each morning was how his dad would feel now, if he were capable of feeling anything at all.

Names were supposed to be a blessing; that was what everyone said. It was what his father had told him. That narrative was everywhere, in movies and books and TV shows, in the wedding bands on people’s fingers and the stuff they shared on their social media accounts (“I finally found her, the one whose name is written on my soul”). It was in the advertisem*nts for jewelry in Ruth’s magazines (“Show your destined one how much you care this Valentine’s Day with a customized linked names pendant”) and in the websites like SoulMatch that offered to help the impatient find their named partner if fate was taking just a little too long. It even existed in all of the ways the narrative wasn’t told – in the way anyone who didn’t quite fit in became taboo, in the way the nameless were only ever spoken of in terms of tragedy and those with more than one name imprinted on their skin hardly ever mentioned at all.

No one really knew where the names came from or why, and yet it seemed like everyone was so sure about what they meant, and that was happiness, love, and most of all, connection. But Benji’s name was nothing like that. All it was ever going to bring him was isolation.

His mother didn’t find out about the tattoo until nearly three months had passed, and when she did, the timing could not have been worse.

The day before the two year anniversary of his father’s death, Benji was getting dressed for school and had just decided to change into a different shirt when there was a too-short pause following a knock and then his door swung open. He looked up to find Ruth standing there staring at his bare skin, an unreadable expression on her face.

“That’s what it was for,” she said flatly as she studied the bundle of arrows, held together by a curling branch of thorns, which curved across his ribs. For the moment at least she appeared more confused than upset. “Why? Why would you-”

But then realization dawned, and as it did Benji’s heart sank like a stone.

Ruth inhaled sharply and seemed to just freeze there, the breath trapped inside of her lungs, and he hated the way she was looking at him. It felt like she could see straight through him, past the lies, past the calm, cool exterior he tried to present to the world; even past the ink beneath which his greatest secret lay hidden. What exactly could she see in him just then? What had she guessed?

He heard himself say hesitantly, “Mom?” and it was incredible how much fear could be packed into that one syllable.

She let out a slow, shaky breath. Stepping forward, she stretched out a hand in which she was holding some papers. “You left your homework on the table. I didn’t want you to forget it.”

Benji took them from her, and waited with his heart in his throat to see if she would say anything else. But all she did was press a soft kiss to his forehead, her hand trembling when it rested briefly on his shoulder, and then she walked quietly away, closing the door again behind her.

They never spoke about the tattoo after that, and she never again brought up the matter of Benji’s name. When the three of them went to visit his dad’s grave the next day, Benji stared at the unmoving stone and thought, At least he died still believing I was the person he wanted me to be. At least I never had to disappoint him the way I’ve disappointed her.

It seemed like if he could just keep being the person his dad would’ve loved, maybe everything would somehow turn out all right.

Chapter 2: Just Another Graceless Night

Chapter Text

For Benji, being drunk was like being underwater. Light and sound were changed, his movements slowed, his body weightless. The world was a different place when he was there – when he was well and truly wasted – an easier place, where nothing hurt as much because everything was softened, muffled, filtered down. Sometimes he was pretty sure the world became more beautiful as well when he hit the very lowest depths that he could sink to. It was hard to say, though, since it was so damn difficult to remember exactly what it looked like in those moments. But there was a lasting impression of beauty all the same that lingered somewhere in the back of his mind as he returned to the aching, wrung out, bone-dry sobriety that made him want to curl up in a dark corner and close his eyes to the ugliness of the world above the surface.

It was better to just stay under for as long as he could. There were ways to make it last and he kept finding new ones, never scared that he’d one day end up holding his breath a little longer than he should and the water would come rushing in. Never quite smart enough to be afraid of drowning.

This evening’s party was in one of those half-gentrified, overly hipster neighborhoods just a little too far from the university to be convenient, in a run down old one-story house filled to absolute capacity both inside and out by the usual crowd of twenty-something college students. Benji was on a break from performing for the moment until the threat of another noise complaint had passed, so he was spending his time nursing a half-full Solo cup of rum and co*ke while he kept watch over his guitar. It wasn’t the rowdiest party thus far, but the night was young, and a group of jockish looking guys had just shown up a few minutes ago. They stood out like sore thumbs among the otherwise granola, liberal arts types that made up the vast majority of people present. He watched warily and with no small amount of irritation as their voices grew steadily louder and their gestures wilder. It would probably be time for him to find a quieter corner of the backyard to get drunk in soon. Well, drunker, anyway. He was already doing pretty well in that department, even though he was actually trying to take it slow for the time being. He wanted to maintain a certain amount of functionality just in case they were asked to play again.

One of the jocks had just knocked over an open two-liter bottle of soda, and Benji was about to grab his guitar and leave before their path of noise and destruction got any closer to him when his band mate Derek dropped down into the chair beside his. Derek had sat down close enough that his knee was brushing Benji’s and the point of contact made Benji’s pulse quicken for more reasons than one. He moved his own leg away as slowly as he could, but apparently he wasn’t quite subtle enough.

Derek pursed his lips. “Oh sorry, still too early in the evening for that kind of thing?”

Benji sipped his drink in order to hide his annoyance. “Any word on when we might be playing again?”

“Not sure. Justin was trying to hunt down Marty – one of the guys who actually lives here – but I don’t know if he managed to find him yet. Let’s just give it another half an hour and if nothing happens by then we’ll pack up the stuff for the night.”

“Is it cool if I leave my guitar in your car later? I can pick it up from you tomorrow.”

Derek’s eyes locked on his, a question and a challenge in his gaze. “You could just crash at mine again. Save yourself a trip. I can even give you a ride back to your place in the morning.”

Benji was still far too sober to be having this conversation. Taking another, much larger sip, Benji told him, “Can’t. I have an opening shift.”

Derek snorted. “When has that ever stopped you before?”

There was still a fair amount of liquid in his cup, but the way Derek was looking at him was making Benji restless. He stood up, gesturing toward his guitar. “I’m gonna go get another. Keep an eye on it for me?”

“Sure, whatever.” Derek said, clearly irritated at being blown off, but Benji knew he could trust him with the instrument. No way Derek would jeopardize their chance to play another set that evening by letting anything happen to it. Before Benji could walk away, however, Derek said, just barely quiet enough to not be overheard, “Why don’t you come find me later, when you’re another five drinks in and not feeling quite so heterosexual.”

The barb stung just like it was intended to, but the last thing he wanted was to give Derek the satisfaction of seeing him wince. Benji gritted his teeth and turned his back on him instead.

He wove his way with practiced ease through the crowd of bodies toward the open sliding door that led into the house. Inside, the heat and the noise of too many people packed into a too small space was intense. He’d been hoping to hang around in there for a while, at least long enough to prove a point to Derek, but he already wanted to simply refill his cup and get the hell out again. At least in the backyard there were still some quiet spots to be found and the possibility of a cool breeze.

In the kitchen there was a girl with dark hair cut in a stylish bob making herself a drink using the same bottle of Bacardi that he’d had his eye on, so he leaned against the counter nearby and waited for her to finish. She glanced over at him curiously at first and then with interest as she got a better look. With a nod toward his cup, she said, “Can I mix you something?”

“It’s just a rum and co*ke,” he answered, but handed it over to her anyway.

“I was going to brag about being a professional, but there’s not much point with a drink this basic,” she said as she went about refilling his cup.

“Sorry to let your expertise go to waste.”

“It’s okay, I don’t know why I’m trying to work on my night off anyway.”

She was very pretty, with fine features that were subtly highlighted by minimal makeup, and eyes so blue it was impossible not to notice them. Derek’s comment flashed through his mind again. He had to work a little harder than he usually did to make his smile look genuine.

“I happen to be a professional beverage maker, too,” he told her.

“Oh, a fellow bartender?”

“Barista. I’d probably be better off bartending, though, we don’t exactly make much in tips. And I bet you get a lot of free drinks.”

“Not where I work. My boss is a real tight-ass. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I actually really enjoy it and the money’s decent – we do get a lot of tips on a good night – but some days I’m not sure it’s worth it when she’s chewing us all out yet again just for occasionally giving out a free shot or whatever… Anyway, sorry to bitch at you and hold your drink hostage.” She’d absentmindedly kept it in her hand while she’d gotten distracted talking with him, and she held it out now. “Here you go.”

He took the cup and touched the side against hers. “Cheers.” After taking a drink, he raised his brows, pretending to be impressed. “Hands down, best rum and co*ke I’ve ever had. Definitely some professional level skills involved.”

She laughed. “Happy to be of service. I’m Erica, by the way.”

“Benji.”

They ended up wandering out to the backyard together in order to hear each other better over the noise. Benji could tell that things were going well with her based on the number of times she found an excuse to touch him, bumping into his side lightly or resting a hand on his arm as they talked. The half an hour that Derek had suggested waiting was nearly up and there was no sign of the band being asked to perform again. Since Benji was still far too sober for whatever might happen next with Erica, he put back his new drink at a much faster pace than the previous one and then grabbed a beer out of a cooler on the patio, followed by a second beer about ten minutes later.

He’d gotten about halfway through a third and was finally feeling hazy enough to try and kiss her when it happened. The jocks he’d noticed earlier were welcoming a few newcomers to their group, three similarly dressed guys in track jackets and jeans with expensive looking sneakers. One of them was slightly shorter and more slender than the others, his light brown skin flawlessly smooth and his dark hair a little wavy, and as the guy turned to clasp hands with one of his friends in greeting, Benji caught sight of his face over Erica’s shoulder.

The strangest sensation came over him as he stood there and stared, completely transfixed, at this stranger that he felt intrinsically he somehow already knew. Benji’s eyes mapped out those features as though running over well-known territory, cataloging every detail of the high cheekbones and the long, narrow nose, the lips that seemed to naturally turn up at the corners even when they weren’t smiling, the dark eyes that shone so brightly Benji could make out the reflection of light within them despite the distance. Benji was far from sinking as low as he could that evening, but he was gone enough for the world to have begun its underwater transformation, the softness and the stillness lending the moment he found himself trapped within an inexplicable sense of mystery.

In his mind the words repeated again and again: here is a stranger that I already know.

The guy turned then and saw Benji, his eyes widening a fraction, and in them Benji could see an unmistakable spark of recognition. The water was rushing in as the air left Benji’s lungs. He’d never before felt so close to drowning.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

“Hey, are you all right?” Erica asked.

Benji’s gaze snapped back to her. She was staring at him in concern and he no longer felt quite as drunk as he needed to be for this. He knocked back the rest of the beer and set the bottle aside in a pile of empties edging the patio, and then returned to her with a smile.

“Doing good. Sorry if I’m a little spacey, I had an early start today.” Warmth was spreading through his belly thanks to the liquid courage, so he pulled himself together, put aside all thoughts of beautiful strangers, and asked her, “Wanna go talk somewhere a little quieter?”

They ended up in a dark corner of the backyard, making out as Benji leaned back against the broad trunk of a tree. Kissing women was usually pleasant but never satisfying, and as lovely as Erica was she was no exception. Benji hadn’t really expected her to be, though. That wasn’t the point. His mind kept drifting away as their mouths moved together, floating light and aimless like an unanchored boat. Her small body within his arms had him feeling lost at sea.

Eventually things started to get a little more heated, and then Erica pulled back with a pretty flush darkening her cheeks to ask, “Wanna get out of here? My place is only about ten minutes away. I can call us an Uber now if you’re up for it.”

Benji tried hard to dredge up the desire to do it, but the thought of getting stuck at her place for the rest of the night was incredibly unappealing, and he hated being the asshole that made excuses to slip away before morning. Not to mention the fact that he was beginning to have his doubts that he’d even be able to follow through with anything at all. His head was in a weird place that evening, unable to appreciate the simple pleasure of being touched by another person, of having the loneliness eased for just long enough to make its inescapable return slightly more bearable. It seemed like this was becoming one of those nights in which trying to comfort himself like this was only making things worse instead of better, all because the sight of some guy he didn’t even know was upsetting his usual routine. Every time he had closed his eyes and tried to get lost in Erica, he’d seen that face again, and he was beginning to resent the power it held over him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t leave,” he ended up telling her after a long pause in which he could see her slowly resigning herself to disappointment. “I’m in the band and we still might get asked to perform again at some point, so I have to stick around.”

“Oh, okay,” Erica said coolly, as though she didn’t really care. She bit her bottom lip and then betrayed herself by saying, “We could just find somewhere here with a little more privacy. If you want.”

He knew he should at least try to take her up on the offer. There was a chance it might be enough to stop him from going home with Derek again, but he could feel in his gut that it was already a lost cause. He’d probably just end up at Derek’s anyway because it was turning into that kind of night. The kind in which the hollow ache deep inside of him wouldn’t allow itself to be drowned out by booze or lessened by a woman’s touch. There was an itch underneath his skin that had been getting worse ever since he’d witnessed the strange recognition in that other guy’s gaze.

“I, uh, I don’t think so. I’m sorry.” He watched as she took a careful step back from him, her face shuttering as she worked to brush off the rejection. “It’s been awhile since I checked in with my band mates, I should go see how things are going.”

“Oh, sure. Well, nice meeting you I guess.” She took another step away. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Or whatever.”

Erica wandered off and left him alone there in the shadows under the tree. There was a stump nearby that was large enough to sit on and he sank down onto it heavily, running both hands through his hair as the world swam around him. He’d had to work right up until it was time to come to the party, so all he’d eaten that evening was a muffin from the pastry case at the cafe, and his stomach lurched with every movement. Now that Erica had left the effects of all the booze in his system were starting to hit him a little harder. He was worried for a moment that he might throw up and he wasn’t quite sure if it was due to the nausea or the shame.

“Jesus christ, is this where you’ve been all night?” a voice said quite awhile later, and Benji lifted his head from his hands to see Derek walking up to him. “I’ve been looking for you for, like, ten minutes now. They want us to do one more set after all.”

Derek stretched a hand out to him, and Benji let him pull him up to his feet. The black, twisting branches overhead swayed in his blurry vision and Derek quickly slipped an arm around his waist. As much as he tried not to acknowledge it, Benji liked the feeling of Derek’s larger, solid body pressed up against his side. He leaned into him, maybe a little more heavily than he should have.

“f*ck, Benji, are you even going to be able to play like this?” Derek’s tone was irritated, but Benji was just aware enough to catch the concern underlying it. “You have to stop doing this sh*t. One of these days you’re gonna end up really hurting yourself.”

Benji ignored the warning and allowed Derek to support him for just a few steps before he pushed himself away. “I’m fine,” he said, and even though that was complete bullsh*t and they both knew it, Benji could walk in a relatively straight line on his own and that was good enough for now. “I can still play.”

“f*ck,” Derek swore again, shaking his head, but he followed Benji out into the noise of the crowd and didn’t try to touch him. “Okay, whatever. Let’s just go play then.”

The other guys had everything set up already and were clearly just standing around waiting on them when Derek and Benji showed up. Benji grabbed his guitar and took a few minutes to check that it was still properly tuned and everything sounded good. Derek produced a bottle of water from somewhere and held it out to him with a defiant look in his eyes which Benji knew better than to try and resist. He downed about half of it, the water sloshing around in his mostly empty stomach and just making him feel worse, but he knew his voice would be smoother at least and that was what mattered.

He didn’t bother introducing the band again, even though he knew Derek probably wanted him to. He just started playing the opening chords to the first song in their set and let the other guys follow him, closing his eyes for a moment to stop the rocking of the sea of faces all turning to stare in his direction. It was a relief when his voice came out powerful and steady.

That was how he got through most of that first song – by closing his eyes as often as he could to block out the rest of the world and just focusing on this one thing that always made him feel good. Even when everything else was falling to pieces around him and the self-hatred was was too strong to be buried beneath another drink, at least he had this. He had his music. He had the solid wood and taut strings under his hands that reacted just the way he wanted them to, and the words that flowed like poetry from his mouth, as soft or as hard as he needed them to be, and the music was his. It was the one thing in his life that made him feel truly in control.

He rolled right into the second song with no break in between, but the rest of the band managed to keep up, hitting every note just right, and he was so glad they’d found Alex recently to take over on the drums after James had left. The perfectly executed percussion pulsed through him like a second heartbeat, interwoven with the deep rhythm of the bass provided by Derek and the complex melody being produced by Justin’s keyboard. God, this felt good. This was what Benji was made for. This was how he wanted every moment of his life to feel.

As he belted out the lyrics to the chorus he let his eyes slip open again. All those faces watching him in the dark of the dimly lit yard seemed like they were part of one greater whole, a whole that he himself might actually belong to, if only for as long as the music lasted. It made the aching hollow inside of Benji shrink just a little and the relief was everything.

Someone moved in the crowd and then suddenly Benji saw him again. Standing directly in his line of sight now, eyes just as bright as they had been earlier that evening, the beauty of his face emerging out of the shadows like a painting in chiaroscuro. They were staring right at each other and it was as though every word in the song Benji had written had somehow always been intended for this moment and this place and this person.

Throughout the rest of the performance their eye contact rarely wavered and it would have been awkward if it weren’t for the alcohol clouding Benji’s brain. The closer they got to the final song in the set, the more the itch under his skin grew harder to ignore. Realization began to sink in – when they were finished he was probably going to end up doing something that he would regret in the morning – but it was like that time he’d plunged down a dangerously steep hill on his bike as a kid. He’d known it was dumb, but once he’d started down the collision course, there was no stopping it. All he could do was enjoy the rush of the fall before the inevitable pain of hitting the ground.

They finished the last song to a gratifyingly enthusiastic round of cheers and applause, and then Benji went through the familiar routine of packing up all of the equipment and loading it into Justin’s van. He snagged himself another beer to sip while he worked, ignoring the looks Derek kept sending his way, and once they were done his guitar ended up being carefully stowed in the backseat of Derek’s Honda alongside his bass.

“You wanna call it a night?” Derek asked after closing the back door.

This was the part where Benji would usually say yes. He was the perfect level of inebriated – just drunk enough to be able to blame it all on the alcohol later, but not so drunk as to be incapable of enjoying the rest of the night with Derek, nor was he so drunk that Derek would make him sleep it off on the couch and refuse to touch him.

But that stranger’s face was still there when Benji’s eyes slipped closed for just a fraction of a second.

“The night’s young. I think I’m gonna hang out here for a while longer,” Benji told Derek, even though it was approaching one thirty in the morning and Benji’s opening shift started at seven. “Thanks for taking my baby, though. I can come pick it up around six tomorrow if that’s okay.”

He made the mistake of catching Derek’s gaze just then and seeing the combined judgment and pity that resided there. Benji looked away again quickly.

“Six is fine,” Derek said, voice flat with disappointment. It seemed like the pity was winning out, because his tone softened as he offered, “Maybe we can get some dinner together tomorrow night, since you’re coming by anyway. We could hang out a bit, watch a movie, whatever you feel like doing. It’s been a while since we did anything like that.”

Benji swallowed down his guilt. “I won’t have a lot of time before I have to get to my private lesson, but, uh… but I could probably do dinner at least.”

“Okay. Well, have a good night then.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment as Derek waited for Benji to leave and Benji wondered if maybe he shouldn’t just go home with him after all. Spending the night with Derek would feel good, it would be easy and simple and it wouldn’t have to mean much, and he’d probably be able to eat something and get a reasonable amount of sleep. He would still wake up full of regret and shame but what else was new?

He could see those bright eyes in the midst of the crowd again, watching him just as intensely as he had watched them.

“Good night,” Benji said, and turned back to the noise and the light and the possibility of something new.

The party was different when Benji returned. The atmosphere was charged now with that strange, restless energy it always got around this time of night, the energy that had couples slipping away together to quiet places and sudden rage exploding out of nowhere, that had some breaking down in tears and others dancing with abandon to the throbbing music that shook the whole house with its steady rhythm. It was the time of night when anything was possible.

Benji walked through the backyard and into the house, nodding in thanks to people who called out praise for the band’s performance earlier and politely dodging those that tried to engage him in conversation. The air inside was so thick with smoke it made his throat burn and clouded his already hazy vision. Through the fog and the poor lighting he searched each room for any sign of that guy, but each space he passed through he was met only with the unremarkable faces of random others, and he was beginning to lose hope when he turned down the hall and caught sight of the guy stepping through a doorway.

A moment later, Benji followed after him, closing the door behind himself.

They were in a small, cramped bedroom, clothes and blankets and all kinds of other crap spread messily across every surface including the floor. A reddish-brown sheet was tacked up over the window with pins in the place of a curtain, backlit by the streetlight outside and bathing the room in a crimson glow reminiscent of being trapped in a fever dream. A single lamp perched on top of a narrow shelf provided the only other source of light.

The guy was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a bottle of JD halfway up to his lips. He lowered it, eyes going wide as they locked on Benji standing there by the door.

“Oh, sorry, do you live here? Is this your room?” the guy rushed to say. “I just needed to find somewhere quiet for a minute…”

Benji took a small step forward. “Uh, no, I don’t live here. I was looking for somewhere quiet to hang out, too.” Another step, a little bit closer to the bed. A little closer to this person who was making his heart pound and his hands feel shaky and his breath catch. “Is it cool if I join you?”

“Um. Yeah, of course.”

Benji sat down next to him, finally breaking their eye contact by doing so, but it didn’t really help much to clear his head. Now all he could think about was just how close they were. How easy it would be to shift his body weight slightly and brush the skin of this guy’s arm with his own. Benji could already feel his heat across the bare centimeters separating them.

“You’re the guy from the band, aren’t you? The lead singer?”

Benji nodded. “Yep. That’s me.”

“You guys were amazing. Like, seriously good. I’ve never heard music like that at a house party before.” The guy let out a small, nervous laugh. “Not that I’ve really been to a lot of parties like this. I mean, I’ve been to parties before. Obviously. Just not a lot… and uh…” He laughed again, even more anxiously. “Sorry. I have an embarrassing tendency to ramble sometimes, please just ignore me.”

Benji was pretty sure it was physically impossible for him to be anywhere near this guy and be able to ignore him.

“I’m glad you liked it. We’re called The Distant Ships, you should come check us out sometime. We’re doing shows about once or twice a week right now, and not just at house parties. In case that’s not really your thing.”

“Oh, no, I love parties,” the guy hurried to say, but it came out sounding so forced that after a brief, skeptical pause they both laughed. The guy bit his lower lip, caught out, and admitted, “Okay, maybe I’m not really all that into them. It’d be cool to see you again, though.” Benji glanced up at him, startled, and the guy’s eyes went wide as he realized what he’d just said. “I, uh, I mean it’d be really cool to see the band again.”

This was not at all how Benji would have expected things to go if he’d actually allowed himself to think about what was going to happen once they were alone together. It was throwing him off a little bit, like taking a step down a familiar path only to somehow find yourself transported somewhere entirely new. The attraction between them was obvious and undeniable, at least within the privacy of Benji’s own mind, but this – this sense of connection that went beyond the physical – was unexpected. He’d never imagined he would find this guy so likable. So effortlessly charming.

It made him nervous.

The guy lifted the bottle to his lips and winced a little as the whiskey hit his tongue. He held it out to Benji. “You want some?”

Benji took it and tipped it back smoothly, familiar warmth flooding down his throat and spreading through his chest. It helped to ease some of the tension buzzing inside of him, so he took another sip and then passed it back. Their fingers touched against the cool glass and Benji didn’t miss the heat that flashed through the other guy’s eyes when their gazes met for a brief moment.

“Do you usually like to drink alone at parties? On the rare occasions you go to them, that is,” Benji said, and hoped that the teasing note in his voice was clear so that the question didn’t come off as judgmental. He was the last person that should be judging anyone for something like that.

Fortunately the guy smiled and said ruefully, “Not really. It’s just been kind of a crappy night for me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Did something happen?”

“Just got into a stupid argument with one of the guys I came here with. He thinks I’m into this girl that he likes, so he kept acting like a total asshole around me all evening.”

“Are you?” Benji asked neutrally, like he didn’t really care. “Into her?”

The guy licked his lips, his chest beginning to rise and fall a little more rapidly. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I’m definitely not.”

Benji dropped the casual act, meeting the other guy’s eyes again, and there was no misinterpreting what he saw there. He reached for the bottle, leaning his weight into his left side so that their arms pressed against each other from shoulder to elbow, and when he wrapped his hand around the glass their fingers overlapped just slightly. A shiver ran through the other guy and Benji could feel it against his own skin. He took the bottle and put back one more shot before setting it aside on the floor.

Leaning in a little more, Benji asked, “Can I kiss you?”

There was a pause, but it was charged with want rather than hesitation, and the other guy’s eyes flicked down to Benji’s lips for only a second before he glanced up again and nodded. His irises were so thin now they were just a hint of color surrounding the wide, inky black of his pupils. Benji lifted his right hand to cup the guy’s jaw in his palm and then brought their mouths together.

No other first kiss had ever felt like this before. It was like a literal chemical reaction was occurring at every place their bodies touched. Benji’s life for the past few years had consisted of nights that on the surface were just like this one. Go to a party, get wasted, find someone to hook up with, maybe play some music, maybe wake up in someone else’s bed. Lately, more often than not, that bed ended up being Derek’s. But somehow everything was different tonight even though it should have been just the same. Something about this person made it different. Something about him felt like nothing Benji had ever experienced before.

The guy kissed like he’d been waiting all his life for it. There was so much want evident in his every movement, in the way one of his hands came up to run through the hair at the back of Benji’s head and then drew him in even closer, in the way he chased after Benji’s mouth instinctively when Benji pulled back for an instant to catch his breath. They kissed again and again, one kiss rolling right into another, and despite the heat building up quickly inside of him Benji felt like he could just keep doing this for hours.

But then noises in the hall, the sound of voices and heavy footsteps, made them pull apart a few minutes after they’d begun. The twin fears of getting caught and having to stop what they were doing had Benji jumping to his feet and crossing the room in order to lock the door before anyone could try to open it. The guy stared at him in surprise and Benji found himself flushing a little in embarrassment.

“Sorry. I just, uh – I thought it’d be better if we had some privacy. I mean, unless you wanted to stop…”

“No,” the guy murmured, shaking his head. He swallowed hard. “We don’t have to stop.”

Benji took a step back toward the bed, but then paused when the guy stood up. He seemed unsure of himself for a moment, just staring at Benji as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, and then a sudden determination came over him. He strode across the room and pulled Benji into another kiss, and an instant later Benji groaned as he felt his shoulders hit the wall beside the door and the full length of the other guy’s body pressed into him.

He tasted perfect, the slight burn of whiskey lingering on his tongue when it slipped past Benji’s lips, and despite his slender frame the arm he had wrapped around the small of Benji’s back was strong enough to pin him in place. He bent his head to press a series of kisses and gentle bites down the length of Benji’s neck, and Benji’s hand automatically found its way to the button at the front of the other guy’s jeans. He lifted his head in surprise so Benji asked, “Is this okay?”

Breathlessly, he whispered, “Yeah,” and Benji didn’t waste any more time undoing his jeans and slipping his hand inside.

There were more voices in the hallway, and the incessant pounding of the music, and at one point the doorknob beside Benji rattled. But none of it mattered, nothing mattered except for the sounds his touch was eliciting from the stranger in his arms, the one with the face so beautiful he saw it even when he closed his eyes.

Hook ups and one night stands had always felt so transactional to him before this moment. They were a temporary alliance allowing two parties to feel slightly less alone in the world around them. With women they were something he endured both for the sake of a f*cked up sort of self-comfort that always edged its way into self-harm and to prove a point to someone who would never even know or care. And with men – with men they might have been more if Benji had ever had the courage to allow it. The one thing that was always the same about them no matter the partner was the shame and the hurt that followed after.

Benji wasn’t really built for such impersonal interactions no matter how hard he tried to be. He’d always been the kind of person who longed for more, who was secretly moved by grand gestures and tender words, who craved companionship even more than physical release.

And now here was this man who felt nothing like anyone Benji had ever had before. He was gasping into their kiss, eyes slipping open for a moment to find Benji’s through the thick fringe of his lashes, and at this point with another partner Benji would probably have sunk down to his knees. But he couldn’t look away from those bright eyes, and he couldn’t stop kissing him, and Benji wanted nothing more than to see the moment when he came undone because of Benji’s touch.

A couple of minutes later his back arched and Benji held him tight as he shuddered, and continued to hold him even as he rested his head on Benji’s shoulder and his breathing began to slow. Benji could feel the pounding of the other man’s heart beside his own. No one had ever felt so good or so right in his arms.

Benji heard the words again, like the refrain of a song, sung sweetly in the back of his mind: here is a stranger that I already know.

Chapter 3: There Is No Pain (You Are Receding)

Chapter Text

“Am I completely losing my mind or does your tattoo look different?” Derek asked. He was lying on his side next to Benji, one hand propping his head up while the other traced the lines of the ink embedded beneath Benji’s skin.

Benji sat up, leaning back against the headrest of Derek’s bed, mostly as an excuse to pull away from his touch. He didn’t bother looking down at the tattoo as he said, “I’m going with option number one.”

Derek huffed out a breath in frustration. “I’m not kidding. Look at it. Weren’t there more thorns on the vine before? Did you, like, get part of it removed or something?”

“No,” Benji scoffed. “Why would I get only part of it removed? Especially when I have no plan to remove any of it.”

“You’d think I’d be intimately familiar with what it looked like by this point, but maybe I’m somehow remembering wrong,” Derek said, although he still sounded unconvinced. “Whatever. I’m gonna grab some caffeine before we try and watch anything. You want some?”

“Sure.”

“So,” Derek began, returning to the bed with two mugs of coffee a few minutes later, one of which he handed to Benji. “Who did you end up going home with last night? Was it the girl with the cute bob or the guy you were having intense eye sex with during pretty much the entire second performance?”

Benji shot him a dark look in warning, which Derek ignored just like he usually did. “I didn’t go home with anyone,” he answered, which was in fact true.

Rolling his eyes, Derek corrected himself to say, “Fine, who did you drag into some dank corner of that house to hook up with then?”

“None of your business.” Benji was already deeply regretting what had just happened a short while ago with Derek and now this conversation was only making it worse.

“I’m gonna go with option number two,” Derek quipped. Benji could feel a tell-tale flush darkening his cheeks which just made Derek’s brows go up and his teasing smile broaden. He nudged Benji in the side lightly. “Oh sh*t, you actually did, didn’t you? How was it?”

“f*ck off, we are not talking about this,” Benji snapped. He set the untouched coffee down on the nightstand and swung his legs off the bed. “This was a mistake. I should get going.”

“Oh, come on, Benji, don’t be so sensitive. I was just joking.” Derek’s amusem*nt faded quickly as Benji began searching the room for his clothes. “Would you please come back to bed? I promise I won’t say anything else about it.”

Benji ignored him and pulled on his underwear and jeans. He needed a shower, but it would have to wait until he got home. He didn’t want to stay here any longer than he had to.

“Seriously, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll shut up, and we can just hang out and watch a movie like we were going to.”

Where the hell was his shirt? Benji scanned the room and spotted his socks at the foot of the bed, which he grabbed, but there was no sign of the shirt anywhere. He bent down to look below the furniture in the room and finally spotted it half-underneath the dresser.

Derek sighed loudly in exasperation and climbed out of bed. He still wasn’t wearing anything except for the pair of boxers he’d put on to go out to the kitchen and now that the customary post-sex shame was creeping in Benji didn’t want to look directly at him. Derek’s hand landing on his shoulder a moment later made him flinch.

There was a deep sadness in Derek’s eyes as he pulled his hand away. He asked quietly, “Did you even sleep at all last night? You look exhausted.”

It had been nearly four in the morning when Benji had gotten home, so he’d crashed for about two hours before getting up again for work. He’d barely made it out the door in time due to the fact that he’d spent twenty minutes retching into the toilet after waking up. His headache hadn’t fully gone away until a few hours ago.

“I slept,” was all Benji said in response to Derek’s concern.

Derek finally seemed to realize how uncomfortable he was making Benji and pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt at random. He followed Benji out to the living room and watched as he slipped into his leather jacket.

“I really wish you would stay,” Derek told him. “I wish you’d talk to me. Or anyone, really.” Benji began yanking on his boots, doing his best to ignore the way Derek’s words were getting to him. “Is there anyone that you ever talk to? ‘Cause it kind of seems like there isn’t. It seems like I might actually be your best friend, Benji, and that’s really f*cking sad.”

Benji grabbed his guitar case from where it was resting near the door. “I have to go. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just try and get some rest tonight, okay?”

It was raining when Benji stepped out of Derek’s building and unusually cold for Atlanta which rarely dipped below forty-five degrees even in November. He hurried down the sidewalk to where he’d parked his car about three blocks down, trying to pull his jacket a little closer to his body. He could see each breath hanging briefly in the air before him.

Inside the car it was just as cold, but at least he was finally sheltered from the rain. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and started the engine, cranking up the heat as high as he could get it. His car was a piece of crap from the nineties and always took forever to warm up. The clock on the dashboard read eleven twenty-five. He probably should have just crashed at Derek’s place; it was going to be close to midnight by the time he finally got home, and he was opening at Brasstown again the next day. He wished his private lesson hadn’t canceled on him earlier, so he could’ve just picked up his guitar, taught his lesson, and gotten back to his own place at a reasonable time without things getting complicated.

It was tempting to just go back to Derek’s warm apartment, crawl into bed with him again, and not have to feel so alone that night. But he hated it when Derek tried to make him talk about all of the stuff that Benji worked so hard to never think about. Like his drinking problem. Or his tendency to sleep with random people at parties. Or the fact that he was gay.

It wasn’t like Benji wasn’t aware of all of those things. He was painfully aware of them. It just hurt less when he didn’t have to acknowledge those truths.

He gave up on the idea of going back to Derek’s and started driving toward his own place. It was a long drive and he was tired, so he put on one of his upbeat gym playlists to keep himself awake. For about twenty minutes or so it worked, but then the heat pouring out of the vents finally started to dry out his damp clothes and warm his chilled skin, and he settled back into his seat a little more comfortably, and without realizing it his eyelids began to droop.

The blare of a horn had him snapping his eyes open again a second later and he realized he’d been drifting slightly into the left lane. He hurriedly corrected the car and was rewarded with another angry blast of a horn as the driver in that lane sped by him.

Benji’s heart was racing even faster than the rain streaming down the windshield.

Just then he got a call, the vibration of the phone against the plastic holder on the dashboard making him jump, and he reached out with a shaky hand to answer it. His brother’s voice came on over the speaker phone.

“Hey, B. How’s it going?”

“I’m good,” he said, trying his hardest to sound calm. It still felt like his heart was about to pound its way right out of his chest. “How have you been? Sorry we haven’t talked in awhile, I’ve just had a lot going on lately.”

“It’s cool, we’ve been busy at home, too. I have so much homework this year it’s ridiculous and now I’m working on college applications on top of that and soccer. And Mom’s working crazy hours now as well. Crazier than usual, anyway. It’s flu season, so you know how it is.”

“Oh yeah, that sucks. I hope she’s taking care of herself at least.”

“It’s Mom, so… not really. But she asked me to check in with you about next week.”

Benji’s mind went blank. “Uh…”

“Dude, really? It’s Thanksgiving on Thursday. How did you forget about that?”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’ll be there. I have to get back to work on Friday, though.”

Asa sighed. “Seriously? I thought you were going to take a couple of days off this year. Isn’t that what you told Mom?”

The truth was that Benji had completely forgotten to put in the request for time off and now it was way too late. “We’re pretty short-staffed around the holidays… I’ll definitely make it happen for Christmas, though, okay? And Hanukkah if I can.”

“Yeah, whatever. It just feels like we live in different cities or something. You never come home anymore.”

“I’ll be there on Thursday. I promise. And you’re right, I should try to come by more often. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Asa was quiet for a moment, and Benji searched his brain for something more cheerful they could talk about, but his thoughts were moving too sluggishly and nothing came to mind. Eventually Asa said, “You gonna try and do Dad’s sweet potato soufflé this year?”

Benji let out a surprised laugh. “You really want me to try again after I utterly destroyed it last time?”

“Well, it’s not like you could make it any worse. Pretty sure you could lace it with arsenic and it would still be an improvement.”

“It’d be a mercy, anyway.”

Asa laughed. “You should try again, though. I’ll help if you want. I’ve actually been getting pretty good at cooking since it’s either that or eat TV dinners seven nights a week. Besides, it’s nice to feel like there’s something of Dad’s for Thanksgiving, too, you know?”

“Yeah, it is,” Benji agreed softly. “All right, we’ll give it a try. Hey, I’m just pulling up at my place now so I’d better go. But tell Mom I said hi and that she needs to take a night off one of these days before she ends up in a hospital bed herself.”

“Yeah right,” Asa snorted. “You try telling her to take some time off. It’s about as easy as getting you to do it. Like mother, like son, I guess.”

Benji pulled into a parking space near his building and shut off the engine. The sound of the rain on the metal roof of the car was so soothing it almost made him want to sleep right where he was.

“I’ll see you guys on Thursday, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, B. Good night.”

Benji pulled his car up along the street in front of his mom’s house. The house that he’d spent the first eighteen years of his life living in. He hadn’t been home in over two months but it looked the same as it always did. Same white paint with blue-gray trim, same weed-infested flower beds that no one had the time or the desire to tidy, same patches of clover running rampant across the lawn. The ash tree out front was currently a shade of yellow so vibrant it almost seemed to glow. Surprisingly, there weren’t many leaves piling up on the grass, which meant that Asa had actually gone to the trouble of raking them up.

As he stared at the house, he slipped his flask out of the pocket of his jacket and unscrewed the cap, taking a long pull from it. Vodka was what he’d found in the cupboard that morning so vodka was what he was drinking, even though it wouldn’t have been his first choice. He wasn’t intending to get drunk or anything, just buzzed enough to make it through the day. Even though he knew it was messed up, it made him feel better knowing he had the liquor on hand in case he needed it.

Benji was twenty-two and his dad had been dead for nearly a decade; it would be the ten year anniversary in February. You would think that after all those years the absence would have become easier to bear, but somehow the older he got the harder it was to come back to this house.

He sat in the car for a few more minutes, drinking until he felt a pleasant warmth begin to spread through him, and then carefully tucked the flask away again in the inner pocket of his jacket. There was a little container of Tic Tacs which he kept in the car primarily for the purpose of masking the scent of alcohol on his breath. He shook a few of them out into his hand and popped them in his mouth, and then finally it was time to head inside.

The first things he noticed as he toed off his shoes by the front door were the football game on the TV, switched on in honor of his dad and because it was tradition (none of them actually liked the sport) and the smell of roasting turkey that was wafting out from the kitchen.

“Hey, there’s my first born,” Ruth said as she got up from the couch and came over to hug him. She pulled back after a moment, tucking a long strand of hair behind his ear and studying his face. “I’d almost forgotten what you looked like.”

“Ha ha,” he said dryly. “It hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been since September. You haven’t come by since the labor day barbecue,” she said accusingly.

“You never call, you never write,” Benji mimicked jokingly, and she swatted him on the shoulder.

“You don’t call. Or write. I had to get your brother to track you down and make sure you hadn’t completely forgotten about us, since you couldn’t be bothered to respond to me last week.”

The teasing tone was now shifting into one of genuine hurt, and Benji hung his head guiltily.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been so busy lately with work and the band and everything. I’m trying to squeeze guitar lessons in three nights a week now, too. I know it’s not an excuse for not calling you back, but I swear I just got distracted. I’ll try and do better.”

She looked somewhat mollified, which was a start, although Benji had no doubt he’d be hearing more about his two month absence as the day went on.

“Are you eating and sleeping with all of that stuff you’re doing?”

He forced a smile and brushed off her concern by gesturing down at himself. “Nope, just totally wasting away here.”

Ruth shook her head at him fondly and poked his arm. “Where did all these muscles come from? Definitely not my side of the family. Your Uncle Moishe has been shaped like a string bean since the day he was born.” Benji laughed, and she said, “I’m serious, he was the longest, skinniest baby anyone had ever seen. No, you definitely get it from your father’s side. All the Campbell men were built like this, all short and stocky.”

“Who are you calling short and stocky?” Benji demanded in mock outrage, pretending not to notice as her smile grew somewhat brittle at the mention of his father. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a knob on the coat rack before nodding toward the kitchen where the sounds of pots banging around could be heard. “Are you really letting him do all the cooking this year?”

“Not all the cooking, but… He really is improving by leaps and bounds these days. He’s already a better cook than I am, not that that’s saying much.”

They wandered into the kitchen together and discovered Asa standing over the sink with a peeler in one hand and a small mountain of potatoes in front of him.

“You do realize there are only three of us, right?” Benji said, and then immediately regretted it when Ruth’s smile began to slip a little more.

But Asa just turned around and came over to let Benji pull him into a quick hug. He grinned and said, “What’s the point of Thanksgiving if there isn’t enough food on the table to induce a coma?”

“Comas don’t really work like that,” Ruth pointed out wryly. “I believe the medically accurate term you’re looking for is postprandial somnolence.”

“No talking shop on a holiday, Mom. You know the rules,” Asa reminded her.

“It’s a good thing you’re not planning on studying medicine, that’s all I’m going to say.”

Asa rolled his eyes and went back to peeling potatoes. Benji leaned against the counter nearby and asked him, “Have you figured out what you want to major in yet?”

“I’ve been thinking about Law. I know, it’s crazy difficult and probably a terrible idea but… I don’t know, I just think it might be really cool. Like, something I could actually be good at maybe.”

Benji smiled. “You’d definitely be good at it. No one in this family is better at winning an argument than you are.”

“Only because you, Benji, have always been such a pushover where your baby brother is concerned,” Ruth said from where she was sitting on a stool at the bar and sipping some white wine. She caught him eyeing it and said, “The bottle’s in the fridge if you want any, hon.” While Benji went to pour himself a glass, she continued. “I always worried that with the four year age gap between you two you’d take advantage, the way older brothers sometimes do. But from the day we brought Asa home from the hospital you’ve always looked out for him.”

Until recently, Benji thought bitterly. It was hard to look out for someone you hardly ever saw.

When he’d finished pouring himself some wine Ruth leaned over the counter to clink her glass against his. “L’chaim,” she said, with a warm smile. “It’s good to have both of my boys at home again. Here’s to us getting together like this more often.”

Benji took a sip to honor the toast and told himself that he’d do his best to make it happen, even though doubts lingered in the back of his mind. As he drank he studied Ruth, taking in the shadows under her eyes and the crow’s feet beside them that looked a little deeper than the last time he’d seen her. In less than a year Asa would be off at college, most likely in some other part of the country, and then it would just be her, all alone in this house with her memories.

The thought of it made his throat feel constricted, so he swallowed another mouthful of wine and went looking for the sweet potatoes. At least watching him and Asa clumsily attempt the soufflé brought a genuine smile to Ruth’s face, and she didn’t even seem to notice the pace at which Benji was refilling his glass as he worked. In the end, mainly thanks to Asa’s efforts, the dish turned out much better than it had the previous year.

The three of them did their best to fill up the quiet dining room with lively conversation as they ate dinner a couple of hours later. Like it usually did on holidays the cheerfulness felt a little forced. Sometimes Benji wished his mother would stop trying so hard to hide her sadness and exhaustion behind her humor, but thinking that only reminded him of the years immediately after Paul’s death when she’d been too lost to grief to even try.

What was the point in the universe providing some perfect, hand-crafted partner when it would only rip them away again at some later date? How did you go on living knowing the happiest time of your life was behind you, and that no other person would ever complete you the way that one unique individual had? Benji had heard a rumor once that sometimes the name would fade over time, never disappearing entirely but growing fainter as the pain of the loss diminished. Yet even now, nearly a decade later, Benji could see the first two letters of his father’s name written starkly against the pale skin of Ruth’s collarbone, the rest obscured by the cardigan she was wearing. It was just as dark as it had ever been.

Asa’s name could be seen as well, written in a looping, feminine script curving bracelet-like around his wrist. Olivia Jane Thomas. As far as Benji was aware Asa had yet to find her, but that wasn’t unusual. The majority of people didn’t meet their soulmate until well into their twenties or thirties, sometimes even later than that. He wondered if Asa would have even told him if he had met her.

Ever since Ruth’s discovery of Benji’s tattoo, an unspoken rule forbidding all mention of names had existed in their family. Benji knew that he was the reason for it, but he wished he knew how Asa made sense of it. He assumed that Asa thought it was related to the loss of their father; that talking about names was too painful for Ruth after losing her own soulmate, and there was probably some truth in that. There were times when he wished things were different so he could ask his brother about this girl whose name was etched into his skin. If he’d met her yet. What he thought she might be like. What he imagined when he thought about their future together. But mostly Benji was grateful for the way the taboo against discussing names allowed him to hide the truth about himself.

If he could have his way, Benji would go on hiding it for as long as he could. Forever, maybe.

He had a whole slew of reasons for doing so. The first and most important of all was to protect Ruth and Asa from the pain that knowing about him would inevitably cause them. It was possible, likely even, that his mother had guessed, but she’d never once spoken to him about it and that made it pretty clear that she wasn’t okay with it if she had figured it out. After that came the fact that he had witnessed first hand the trauma that losing a soulmate could inflict and he never wanted to experience it himself. And finally there was the hard truth that, no matter what Derek said about gay liberation and changing society and everything, it was still too difficult to be publicly queer. Maybe someday, perhaps even in his own lifetime, walking hand in hand down the street with a same-sex partner could become an act of affection rather than politics, but that day felt so far away from where things were now and Benji wasn’t sure that he himself would ever be ready for it.

After dinner there was dessert. They were all too full to continue sitting in the straight-backed wooden chairs in the dining room, so they carried it out to the sofa and ate while watching the end of the game. None of them knew or cared which team was winning, but the sounds of the commentators’ voices and the roar of the crowd in the background was as familiar a reminder of Paul as the pecan pie which had always been his favorite.

Benji only made it halfway through his slice before he excused himself to the bathroom. He’d slipped the flask into his pocket earlier and as soon as the door was closed behind him he unscrewed the top and took several long pulls in quick succession, relishing the mild burn in the back of his throat. He never felt more alone than he did when he was back at this house. The hollow within him ached unbearably. He took another shot of vodka in an attempt to dull it.

While he was in the bathroom, he removed the small envelope of cash from his wallet and tucked it inside the box of tissues on the counter next to the sink, just like he did every time he came by the house. Ruth was doing all she could, but Benji knew things were still hard, and it was only getting worse now that the cost of Asa’s insulin had gone up. Benji didn’t have a lot to give them these days in terms of his presence in their lives – the way he was it was probably better for them if he stayed away – but at least he could give them this.

A while later Ruth tried to convince him to stay the night in his old room, but the thought of sleeping there in a space so full of oppressive memories from a miserable adolescence had him insisting that he had to get back to his own place for an early shift in the morning. He didn’t actually have to work until two, but as usual it was easier to just lie.

Driving home in the dark, finally on his own again, was both a penance and a relief. The white lines on the pavement wavered a little now and then in his vision, twisting and growing soft around the edges like pale weeds in black water, but he gripped the wheel tight and carried on. If he just focused hard enough, he’d be fine. He only needed to hold his breath a little while longer.

On Friday Benji arrived early for his closing shift at the cafe since Sarah had warned him that there was going to be a new hire starting that afternoon. Benji could hear her talking to him in her office as he hung up his coat in the locker room and pulled an apron on over his Brasstown t-shirt. There was something so familiar about the new guy’s voice, but he couldn’t quite place where he might have heard it before.

He headed out into the main room, signing himself into the register and taking an order from a customer who had just walked in a moment ago. Benji was in the middle of slipping the heat sleeve and lid onto a take-out cup for the customer’s americano when Sarah emerged from the back room. She was talking a mile a minute just like always but as Benji caught sight of the person following after her, he didn’t hear a single word of what she was saying.

It was him. The guy from the house party the previous weekend.

The other guy froze as their gazes met and he recognized Benji. His mouth dropped open just slightly in a gasp of surprise and the apron he’d been holding in his hands landed on the floor in a heap.

There was a loud cough behind Benji and he turned quickly, realizing he still hadn’t handed over the americano to the woman waiting at the counter. When he turned back, the guy had picked up his apron and was hurriedly putting it on as he tried to avoid any further eye contact with Benji.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Benji discovered that the unusually powerful attraction he’d felt the other night hadn’t just been an effect of all the booze he’d consumed after all. Here, in the bright daylight streaming in through the cafe’s windows, with Benji pretty much as sober as he ever was these days, the guy was just as stunning as he had been in the shadows. More so, even, now that Benji could clearly make out every detail of him.

Benji was already in a state of complete shock but it somehow grew infinitely worse when Sarah said bluntly, “Benji, this is the new guy I told you about, Victor Salazar. I’m heading out now so I’ll leave his training to you. I already took care of all the paperwork. If you run into any major issues you can give me a call, but otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” the guy – Victor Salazar – said hurriedly before Sarah could leave. “Benji? Like, as in Benjamin?”

Sarah pursed her lips impatiently. “Yes. Benjamin Campbell, the assistant manager here. Sorry, I didn’t realize you required his full name before getting to work.”

She left, completely oblivious to the effect of her words, and for a long moment all either of them could do was stand there staring at each other. Benji felt like he couldn’t breathe. There he was, the guy with the perfect features that Benji had been thinking about for days, the one whose body he still remembered the feeling of pressed against his own, the one whose taste and smell and touch were all burned into his sensory memory. The guy that Benji hadn’t been able to get out of his head from the first second he’d laid eyes on him. Victor Manuel Salazar.

The person Benji had spent the last eight years of his life running away from.

Chapter 4: Undertow

Chapter Text

Panic crashed into Benji like being swept away by a riptide. Cold sweat was breaking out across the creases of his palms and he couldn’t draw in a breath deep enough to stop the spinning of his head. The concrete floor under his feet seemed to suddenly be made of liquid rather than stone. Benji was sinking deeper and deeper, with no way out and pretty soon he was sure he’d never resurface.

He felt betrayed.

By his own body, by his own idiotic, perpetually reckless decision making, and by the feelings of attraction that he simply couldn’t help, which he couldn’t turn off even now in the midst of a total breakdown. The guy – Victor – was staring at him still with those beautiful eyes and if Benji didn’t get the f*ck away from him immediately he was going to lose his mind.

“I – I’m sorry, I just need a second-” he grit out and then stalked away through the locker room to the employee bathroom and slammed the door behind himself. He locked it and sank down into a crouch, his back pressed against the hard wood, head in his hands.

This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t ready for it. He never would be.

What the f*ck was he going to do?

He should have known. The other night, at the party, the pull of attraction that went so far beyond what was normal, the inexplicable feeling of connection to some stranger that he’d hardly even spoken to… How could he have been so stupid? How had he missed all of the signs?

It made Benji feel like a pawn. Like he was being pushed around a playing board by an invisible hand, his choices not really his own. He didn’t want this. He’d never wanted it, but he was already tangled up in it, in Victor, and he wasn’t sure there was any way out.

But there had to be. It was his life and he could choose to live it the way he wanted to. Just because the universe was trying to shove the two of them together didn’t mean that Benji had to simply give in to his fate. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all to fight back against it.

There was a knock on the door.

“Uh… Benji? There’s a customer waiting out there,” Victor’s voice called out to him. “I’m not really sure what to do.”

He swallowed, working hard to make his voice sound normal. “Okay. Just a sec.”

Benji rose to his feet and went over to the sink to splash some water on his face. He desperately wished he had his flask on him, but it was tucked away in the back of his locker and he couldn’t get to it while Victor was in the room.

When Benji opened the door Victor was standing there waiting for him. Their eyes met for the barest fraction of a second before they both looked away from each other uncomfortably.

“Look, let’s just get through this shift, okay?” Benji said, as though it hadn’t been him that had just run away and hid like a frightened child.

Victor nodded and followed Benji back out into the main room. There was a line of several customers waiting at the counter now, so Benji asked Victor to wait nearby and observe for the time being while he went about taking orders and preparing them. All of Benji’s movements, his usual workplace flow, felt weighed down by Victor’s gaze, by the gravity of his presence just mere feet away from him. The next eight hours were going to drag by agonizingly slow. He needed a f*cking drink.

As soon as he’d finished with the customers, Benji turned to find Victor watching him intently. Victor immediately cast his eyes down at the floor, but Benji didn’t miss the longing that had been there just a second earlier. God, this was bad. How was he going to get through this?

“Hey, uh, just wait here for a minute. I’ll be right back,” Benji told him, and hurried away to the locker room again. His hands shook as he rushed to take hold of the flask and unscrew the metal lid. He was careful to keep his back toward the security camera which he knew was located in the corner behind him as he took several long pulls and then quickly stashed it away again. The heat of the liquor working its way down his throat steadied him, slowing the frantic pace of his heart and the trembling of his body.

A minute later Benji returned to the front and found Victor waiting for him near the register. Benji was careful to avoid eye contact as he addressed him.

“Let’s start with the espresso machine,” he said, and Victor followed him over to it. Benji demonstrated the process of filling the portafilter with grounds and locking it in place, and then showed him how to steam the milk. Victor watched the process closely, and when it was finished Benji stepped away and said, “Now you try.”

Victor went through the steps slowly but without forgetting anything, and Benji was impressed by how quickly he was picking it all up. It wasn’t until he was steaming the milk that Benji had to step in and correct him about something.

“You need to angle the cup a little more in order to create a whirlpool,” Benji said. “That’s how you get that smooth microfoam.”

Victor attempted to tilt the cup but it still wasn’t quite right, so Benji reached out to help him. Their fingers brushed against the metal, sending a spark through him, and Benji quickly withdrew his hand again and took a step back to put some distance between them. Victor glanced over, probably surprised by Benji’s rapid retreat, and accidentally shifted the cup to the wrong angle. A second later foam exploded everywhere, spotting Victor’s shirt, neck, and face, as well as the espresso machine in front of him.

“sh*t,” Victor swore, and Benji quickly switched off the air as Victor set the cup aside.

Benji grabbed a towel off the counter and his first instinct was to brush away the foam dotting Victor’s clothes, but that would mean coming into close contact with him again. He passed him the towel instead, looking away as Victor ran it over himself.

“Sorry,” Victor mumbled.

“It’s fine. It’s not like you’re the only one who’s ever done that.”

Victor set the towel down, continuing to look utterly dejected, and despite the professional distance Benji was trying to maintain between them he couldn’t help feeling a little bad for him.

“Seriously. It happened to me about three times on my first day. It’s like a rite of passage around here.”

There was a hesitant smile curling up one side of Victor’s mouth and Benji forced himself to turn back to the espresso machine so he wouldn’t be tempted to see if it grew any wider. He walked Victor through the process of trying to steam the milk again without any further incidents, and then they moved on to pouring various types of drinks.

Victor was a fast learner which Benji was grateful for, and the rest of the afternoon passed by in a similar manner. They both danced around each other, careful to avoid contact as much as possible, and Benji did his best to act like Victor was just another coworker. It was impossible to ignore the tension between them, or the looks Victor kept sending his way whenever he thought Benji wasn’t paying attention, but neither of them brought up anything that wasn’t strictly related to the work at hand. Throughout the day Benji found himself slipping away to the back room as often as he could, trying to drown his nerves with yet another shot of vodka until the flask was in danger of running dry and Benji himself was walking the fine line between a calming buzz and true inebriation.

That evening, as the time to close the shop drew nearer, Benji found himself watching the clock with dread rather than relief. What might happen once they were alone together? He could tell that Victor was getting more nervous as well from the way he jumped whenever Benji spoke to him and the constant wringing of his hands.

Eventually the last customers left and Benji locked the doors behind them. Before Victor had a chance to say anything, Benji jumped right into training him on the closing routine, hoping that maybe Victor would take a hint and not try to discuss anything personal. It seemed to work, neither of them talking more than necessary as they went about their tasks, but then as soon as they headed into the locker room Benji heard Victor draw in a deep breath and he steeled himself for whatever Victor would say next.

He wasn’t expecting it to be a question as simple as, “Do you live near here?”

Benji was startled enough to look up at him, his breath catching as their gazes met across the dimly lit back room. It was the first eye contact Benji had made with him in hours.

“Yeah,” Benji answered, “Pretty close to here. You?”

“I live on campus. Uh, at Creekwood College. I’m a freshman there.”

That was surprising. Benji found himself asking disbelievingly, “You’re eighteen?”

A strangely shy look came over Victor as he shook his head and said, “Twenty-one. I, uh, I was going somewhere else. Another school back in Texas. But I had to start over when I came here since most of my credits wouldn’t transfer. Are you going to Creekwood, too?”

With the exception of Benji and Sarah, all of the Brasstown employees were Creekwood students since the campus was only two blocks away from the cafe. People made that assumption about him all the time, and as always he felt a little on edge as he answered, “No, I’m not a student.”

“Oh, uh… Did you already graduate from somewhere, or…”

“I’ve just been working, actually.” Benji grabbed his jacket out of his locker and pulled it on. He was so ready to be done with this day. All he wanted was to put as much distance between him and Victor as he possibly could. “Good work today,” he said, polite but cool, and headed toward the doorway. “I think you’ll be working with Sarah tomorrow night so let her know if there’s anything you need more training on.”

Benji was already out in the main room, Victor hurrying to catch up with him, when he heard Victor call out, “Benji, wait-”

Benji stopped reluctantly and turned to face him. Victor’s expression seemed to be caught somewhere between hopeful and terrified.

“Could we just, like, talk for a minute? Please?”

It was becoming a struggle for Benji to maintain his outer calm. He drew in a deep breath and asked, “Why?”

Victor flinched a little at the question. The knowledge that he’d just hurt Victor made Benji’s chest ache, but he did his best to ignore it.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Victor said, his hands anxiously twisting the material of his coat, which he had yet to put on. “I mean, we can’t just ignore this forever-”

“It was just a hook up at a party where we’d both been drinking. That kind of thing happens all the time. It doesn’t need to be a big deal.”

“It doesn’t happen all the time,” Victor countered. “Not to me, anyway. I’d never done anything like that before. Hooking up with someone I didn’t know.”

Benji pushed a hand through his hair, wishing he could simply leave before this situation got any worse. He said, as gently but as firmly as he could, “Listen, I won’t out you to anyone and I hope you’ll do the same for me. Since we’re going to be working together we should put what happened behind us and try to keep things professional from now on.”

The anxiety in Victor’s face seemed to be rapidly transforming into frustration. “I didn’t mean that we should talk about what happened at the party. Well, not only that.”

“What did you want to talk about then?” Benji asked, slow and somewhat confrontational, and immediately regretted it. He hurried to say, “You know what, it’s been a long day and I have to open tomorrow, so-”

“I’m talking about our names,” Victor interrupted him, looking determined to hash the whole thing out whether Benji wanted to or not.

The blunt way Victor had just jumped right to the heart of the matter took Benji aback and he blurted out stupidly, “What?”

“Benjamin John Campbell. That’s your full name, isn’t it?”

The thudding of Benji’s heart was all he could hear in the silence that followed Victor’s question. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even bring himself to nod in confirmation. All he could do was stand there with his mouth slightly open and fear coursing icily through his veins.

Benji’s shock seemed to throw Victor off. He frowned and said, “That is actually your name, right?”

He finally managed to nod in response and Victor let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank god,” he said, “that was almost really humiliating. But what are the odds that there’s some other Benjamin Campbell out there with my name written on his skin?”

Benji opened his mouth and without thinking about the consequences, without allowing himself to reconsider, he lied.

“It’s not.”

Victor stared at him blankly, uncomprehending, so Benji forced himself to continue.

“Your name’s not written on my skin. I… I don’t have a name.”

Horrible quiet filled the room.

A series of emotions chased their way across Victor’s face as Benji stood there passively and watched and regretted and hated himself utterly for what he’d just done. There was surprise first and then confusion, which slowly deepened into hurt and finally culminated in a heartbreak more awful than anything Benji had ever seen before.

He wanted to leave. He wanted to take it all back. He wanted to wrap his hand around a bottle and drink until he forgot everything that had happened that night.

“You-” Victor started, swallowing hard. His eyes were shining so brightly with the reflection of the soft golden lights overhead. Benji wished he was strong enough to look away as Victor forced out the question, “You’re nameless?”

Benji couldn’t make himself repeat the lie so he just hung his head and hoped that Victor would take that as an affirmation.

“But earlier – when Sarah said my name, and then you ran off to the bathroom, it seemed like-”

“I just felt awkward about running into someone I’d hooked up with at work,” Benji fabricated, hating the way he was so practiced at feeding others half-truths. Being gay meant that he’d been fluent in lying ever since he’d hit puberty, but no matter how much time passed the sick feeling in his gut never got any easier to ignore. “That’s all it was.”

“So it’s… it’s just me,” Victor said flatly.

There was nothing Benji could say to that. It was commonly understood that the only thing worse than being nameless was having a name that was unrequited.

Victor blinked hard a few times, and then began to stiffly pull on his coat. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

Benji had never been more consumed by self-hatred in his life. Not even on the day that his mother had discovered the missing money he had spent on a tattoo to obscure the name written on his body. Victor’s name, imprinted darkly over the ribs just below Benji’s heart.

After leaving Brasstown, Benji drove straight to his apartment, parked his car, and walked the four blocks down to the nearest liquor store. Along the way he considered whether it might not be better to hit up a bar instead, maybe find someone to help him forget about the person whose heart he’d just broken, but even the very thought of being around other people at the moment made him cringe. No, tonight he needed to be alone, and he needed to get as drunk as possible as soon as possible.

He dropped about thirty bucks on a couple bottles of Jim Beam (one for tonight, one for later – he was sure he was going to need it) and headed for home. The glass clinked noisily inside its paper bag as he worked his way up the five flights of stairs to his tiny studio apartment. It was even more untidy than usual thanks to the mess of brushes and oils scattered across the only table in the room, beside which stood the easel with its half-finished painting. Black trash bags were spread haphazardly across the floor underneath it in place of a drop cloth, spotted with paint and making the small space appear even more cramped than it already was.

After coming back from Thanksgiving dinner the night before he’d been hit by a bout of insomnia, which was what had led to the drunken attempt at a still life that kept him up until nearly three thirty in the morning. He eyed it as he removed one of the bottles from the bag, twisting the cap off and taking that much needed first sip. It was a sh*t painting. He’d have to scrape it and gesso over the whole thing so the canvas didn’t go to waste.

There was some leftover yellow curry in the fridge, and without bothering to heat it up, Benji took it and the open bottle of bourbon out to the balcony. It was the apartment’s one saving grace, since it was located right in front of a large tree rising up from an earthen gap in the sidewalk below. At the moment its canopy was a patchwork of red and yellow that almost completely blocked the view of the buildings on the opposite side of the street. Sitting out there in the fall made him feel like he was somehow floating in a cloud of fire.

Benji usually listened to music on nights like this when he was set on getting drunk alone, but tonight he couldn’t seem to find the energy even for that. He finished off the small container of curry and swallowed one mouthful of whiskey after another in the hope that maybe one of them would finally wash away the memory of Victor’s eyes shining so brightly with pain.

The sound of the leaves rustling dryly in the wind made him think of poetry. It made him want to pour every ounce of emotion trapped inside of himself out through any medium at hand – words or oils or the strings of his guitar – but for that he’d have to get out of his chair, and he’d have to actually examine what he was feeling and acknowledge it, and it was so much easier to just lift the bottle to his lips again instead.

He drank and he drank and he drank, beyond all his usual limits, because he was scared and he hurt and he hated himself more than he ever had before. He drank because he couldn’t seem to forget the way Victor’s voice had sounded as he said, “…it’s just me.”

Hours later Benji came to lying on his back on the concrete floor. His face was cold. His whole body was cold, he realized, as he slowly regained awareness of it. He was so cold he was trembling, and his muscles ached fiercely in every part of him, and it was difficult to move. The inside of his mouth was dry and sour-tasting. For a long time he just laid there and stared in confusion up at the dark ceiling overhead.

Eventually, even though it took a while and it hurt, Benji slowly made his way back inside, closing the sliding door behind himself, and crawled weakly into bed.

The next time he woke up there was daylight streaming in through the glass door. He winced, covering his face with his arm, and was surprised by how sore he felt everywhere. Why hadn’t he shut the curtains last night? It was so bright, and his head was pounding, and then suddenly the throbbing in his brain translated into an intense wave of nausea which had him rushing for the bathroom.

He returned to bed awhile later and was woken again by the sound of his phone buzzing.

“Where are you?” Sarah’s voice demanded the second he answered. “It’s seven twenty-five and Kayla just told me you still haven’t arrived yet. I’m on my way there to let her in but you had better have a damn good explanation for this.”

“sh*t,” Benji gasped out, sitting up too quickly in bed and then wincing as the entire room rocked on its axis around him. He swallowed thickly and said, “I’m so sorry, I woke up with food poisoning and I meant to call you but I lost track of the time. I can’t come in today.”

Sarah let out an enormous sigh of exasperation. “Are you kidding me? If I can’t get anyone else to come in I’m going to have to work open to close to cover for you. If you’d just called me-”

“Why don’t you try Dave? He’s been asking about picking up extra hours,” Benji interrupted her. Another wave of nausea was rolling toward him dangerously fast, so he said, “I really have to go, I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you later,” and then hung up before she could say anything else.

The hangover he suffered through that day was the worst one he’d ever experienced. He spent as much time as possible sleeping since consciousness was so incredibly painful. Around five o’clock in the evening he woke up and had to run for the toilet yet again, so after returning to bed he grabbed his phone and sent off a text to cancel the guitar lesson he was supposed to teach later that night. A little while later he was finally feeling well enough to sit up and try to eat some plain crackers when his phone began buzzing with an incoming call.

Picking it up, Benji was relieved to see that it was his friend Lake and not Sarah calling to chew him out again. “Hey.”

“Hey there! I was just thinking of grabbing some dinner near campus and since I haven’t seen you in forever I thought maybe we could go together,” Lake said. “I’m guessing you’re not working tonight since you answered the phone and all…”

“No, I’m not working, but I can’t go out. I’m really sick.”

“Ohhh, poor baby! Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m good, thanks. Just gonna try and sleep it off.”

“Okay. Well, let me know if you change your mind. I can totally pick up some medicine or whatever if you want. And text me later when you’re feeling better, all right? I swear I haven’t seen you in, like, a month now and I’m going through some major Benji withdrawals.”

Benji laughed and then immediately regretted it when the movement made his stomach lurch. “All right, I’m sorry about that. We can definitely hang out soon.”

“We’d better, or else I’m gonna come down to Brasstown one of these days and kidnap your workaholic ass just to make you do something fun for once.”

“I do fun stuff,” Benji protested.

“Performing with the band doesn’t count,” Lake argued. “You do realize that’s also a form of work, right? Considering you guys are, like, semi-professional at this point.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s do something on Monday if you’re free. Any fun activity of your choice.”

“Excellent!” Lake chirped. “Monday is perfect. Feel better soon, babe.”

After ending the call, Benji spent the next hour taking tiny sips of water and nibbling at crackers while he watched meaningless TV on his laptop. Around eight he was startled by a knock on his door. He climbed awkwardly out of bed, accidentally scattering crumbs everywhere, and quickly put on a pair of sweatpants.

He pulled the door open and was surprised to find Lake standing on the other side. She looked just as shocked to see him, no doubt because his appearance was so embarrassingly unattractive at the moment. The t-shirt he was wearing was old and wrinkled and his unwashed hair hung limply around his face, which he was guessing probably looked like death warmed over after the day he’d just gone through.

“Holy sh*t, should I be calling an ambulance right now?” Lake blurted out, her eyes comically wide. “I just thought you had a cold or something. What’s going on?”

Benji stepped aside to let her in somewhat reluctantly, since it seemed rude to leave her standing there on his doorstep.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbled, even though it was probably exactly as bad as it looked. Possibly worse.

“I ended up at the Vietnamese place down the street so I thought I’d surprise you with some pho. It’s supposed to be good for you when you’re sick,” Lake explained, holding up a container inside a plastic bag. She looked around for somewhere to put it down and frowned as she noticed the cluttered state of the table and counter nearby. “Were you going for the manic-depressive artist look when you decorated in here or…” Her eyes landed on the unopened bottle of Jim Beam on the table and then traveled over to the partially-empty one lying on the floor of the balcony, probably taking in the assortment of beer cans and the fully drained Smirnoff next to the trash along the way. “Jesus. Are you hungover right now? Is that what this is?”

Benji looked away from her guiltily. “Look, it’s really not a good time. Thanks for the soup, but-”

“No. No way,” Lake said firmly, a note of genuine anger in her tone. “You are not brushing me off that easily. What the f*ck, Benji? After Mia’s birthday you told me you were going to try and slow down with the drinking a little. This-” she waved her arm toward the disaster of an apartment with its alcoholic detritus all over the place, “does not look like slowing down. You know what it does look like?”

“Lake-”

“It looks like an addiction.” She dropped the take out container she’d still been holding onto a pile of sketch paper on the table and then folded her arms across her chest. For a long moment she stood there staring him down, waiting for him to say something, but all he could do was look at the floor under his feet and feel overcome with shame.

Lake let out a long sigh. “Get back in bed.” He glanced up at her in surprise, and she started pushing him toward it. “I’m serious. Let’s go. You’re going to sit down, and I’m going to force feed you some nutritious Vietnamese soup, and then we are going to have a serious conversation. And don’t even think about trying to give me the same bullsh*t you did when we talked last month, because I am not buying that ‘I just go a little overboard sometimes’ crap anymore. This is so far beyond being a messy drunk at a friend’s party. You’re headed straight into alcoholic territory right now.”

“Lake, it’s really not what it looks like-” Benji started, but Lake shot him a glare that had him shutting his mouth immediately.

“Don’t,” she snapped, and gave him another shove in the direction of the bed, so he sighed and gave up trying to fight her. True to her word, she pulled up a chair and sat beside him watching like a hawk as he ate as much of the pho as he could manage.

He got a little past halfway when his stomach started feeling like it was about to rebel. He set it down, earning himself another glare from Lake, and said defensively, “I really can’t eat any more of it right now or I’m gonna lose it. But thank you. I already feel a little better.”

“Good. You’re probably going to need your strength for the conversation we’re about to have,” Lake said.

Benji could not deal with this, not with everything that had just happened. He switched tactics slightly, hoping it would be enough to convince her.

“You’re right, I have been drinking a lot lately. I know it’s not okay. It’s just…” he searched his brain for something, for some excuse that might work, and felt his stomach twist as he said, “It’s just that the anniversary of my dad’s death is coming up soon, and going home for Thanksgiving was hard. I have a bad habit of drinking more around this time of the year, but after the hangover I just went through today I don’t think I’ll need another drink for a very long time.”

Lake’s eyes filled with sympathy, and Benji almost wanted to congratulate himself on successfully manipulating her with a half-truth, except that mostly he just hated himself for it.

“You should have said something. You know if you’re having a hard time you can talk to me,” Lake said softly. “I actually have a fair amount of free time this semester since I’m not interning right now. Whenever you’re feeling really low and you’re thinking about drinking, just call me, okay? I promise to come over and distract you at any time, day or night.”

Benji couldn’t help wagging his brows a little at that. “Really? Day or night, huh?”

Lake giggled and smacked his arm. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I thought your nights were pretty occupied these days. With that new boyfriend and all.”

“I’m never too busy for you. Anyway, Felix understands. He’s well aware of the fact that I’d run away with you in a heartbeat if you ever came to your senses and realized that we’re destined for each other.”

He smiled and shook his head at that. Shameless and completely meaningless flirting was essentially the cornerstone of his friendship with Lake. “Pretty sure Felix is the one you’re meant to be with, since he’s your actual soulmate. Otherwise I’d totally run away with you.”

“You say that, but I’m not gonna hold my breath waiting. Whoever your soulmate is, she is one very lucky girl.” Lake sighed, oblivious to the way her words had filled Benji with discomfort, and said, “You may not be looking your hottest at the moment, but you’re still pretty much my favorite guy. Well, maybe my second favorite guy. So please take care of yourself, okay? Seeing you like this is really freaking me out.”

Benji gave her the most convincing smile he could muster up the energy for. “I will. Thanks, Lake, for being such a good friend. It means a lot.”

“Of course. And I’m serious about calling me next time. Promise me you will.”

“I promise,” Benji lied, and then excused himself to the bathroom a moment later so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eyes any longer. He didn’t deserve her concern or her friendship. If she knew the things he’d done, all the deception and the people he’d hurt – if she knew what he’d told Victor the night before – if she knew what he was…

A few minutes later he returned to the bed, and they chatted about Lake’s classes and her new relationship and how their mutual friends were doing. She offered to talk with him about his dad but he politely turned her down, claiming (truthfully) that it was a painful subject. For the hour or so that she stayed at his place, he did his best to pretend to be the nice, uncomplicated guy that she thought he was. The effort was exhausting, but by the time Lake left, she was no longer looking at him like she might be able to see through the cracks in the facade.

It was so strange how the loneliest moments in Benji’s life were always spent in the presence of other people.

Chapter 5: Written on the Skin

Chapter Text

Benji was about five or six years old the first time he could remember seeing his father’ s name. He’d seen his mother’s plenty of times, whenever she wore a shirt that dipped below her collarbone. The slightly messy, masculine handwriting stood out bold and blocky against her skin, impossible not to notice. But his father’s name, as it turned out, was near the center of his back, in thin, slanting letters that Benji couldn’t read even though he knew they spelled out Ruth Abigail Jacobs.

It had been hot and muggy that day, so Paul had set up the sprinkler in the back yard for Benji to run through in an attempt to cool off. Asa was very little, but in Benji’s memory he was able to walk on his own, toddling up to the water and then falling on his bottom in surprise when it sprayed his arm.

He remembered pulling on his dad’s hand, trying to convince him to get out of his lawn chair and come play with them. Paul had laughed and set his lemonade down, finally giving into Benji’s insistence. After getting to his feet, he’d tugged his shirt off and then turned to place it on his chair, and that was when Benji had seen it.

“Daddy, what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“On your back. Is that your name?”

“Oh,” Paul had said, with a wide smile, “yeah, it is. Well, technically it’s your mom’s name, written on my skin.”

“Because you’re soulmates.”

“Sure are.”

“Why?”

Paul had laughed again. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”

That had been a game for Benji at that age – asking “why” about everything and delighting in the reactions he got from his parents. Their responses would range from straightforward, factual explanations to wild, nonsensical stories that made him giggle, although there were also times when they would simply roll their eyes in irritation as one why followed another after another ad nauseam.

But this particular why was a serious one.

“Why are you soulmates?” Benji persisted. “Who decided?”

He could remember his father crouching down beside him then, big hands resting on his knees, and he’d suddenly become just as solemn as Benji was. “No one really knows, buddy. Some people, like your mom – at least around the High Holy Days – say that God decides. A lot of people believe that, I guess, even though maybe they believe in different gods. Other people say that it’s destiny or the universe or something. But the truth is that no one actually knows. The name just shows up one day on your skin and after that it’s a part of you, just like that person becomes a part of you.”

“But what if it’s someone you don’t like?” Benji asked, thinking about how awful it would be if he had a name like Robbie Murphy’s on his skin. Robbie was always trying to push him around at recess just because Benji was smaller than him.

The question made Paul crack another smile. “Well, that’s not very likely. Almost everybody likes their soulmate. It’s pretty hard not to.”

“But some people don’t?”

“I dunno. I figure even the people who say they don’t probably really do like their soulmate, deep down anyway. You can’t help loving that person.” He grinned, pressing a hand against his back as he stood up. “They’re under your skin, whether you like it or not. That’s just how love is. It’s not a choice, it’s a phenomenon.”

“A phemoma…”

“Phenomenon,” Paul had repeated slowly, his eyes sparking with amusem*nt. “It’s a fancy word that means something that just happens. Like love. It just happens to you.”

“Whether you like it or not?” Benji had asked, echoing his father’s words.

“’Fraid so,” Paul replied, placing a warm palm on Benji’s shoulder. “But don’t worry, bud. You’ll like it. Soon as that special person shows up, you’ll be so happy you’ll forget you ever had any doubts about it. I don’t know if it comes from god or not – to be honest I don’t really believe in all that stuff – but the one thing I know for sure is that it’s a blessing. The best one you’ll ever get, if you let it be.”

Returning to work on Sunday afternoon was a truly miserable experience. Sarah was there when he arrived, and she spent fifteen minutes lecturing him on the protocols of calling in sick despite the fact that Benji already knew them and also could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d actually missed work in the two years since he’d started at Brasstown. Even worse than the lecture was the knowledge that he was closing with Victor again that evening.

The one thing that made it somewhat bearable was that Victor seemed just as reluctant to be anywhere near Benji as Benji was reluctant to be near him. Although that made working together difficult, it was a relief not to have to worry about Victor doing or saying anything he shouldn’t while they were in public. Not that Victor was really saying much of anything, period. Benji hadn’t spent a lot of time around him yet, but he’d gotten the impression that Victor was generally a fairly cheerful, talkative person – kind of anxious maybe, but not quiet. Except that now he was hardly speaking more than was strictly necessary, and he was moving his feet like they were made of lead, and he hadn’t smiled even once all afternoon.

Guilt curdled in Benji’s stomach at the sight of Victor looking so utterly depressed. Despite himself Benji found that he kept seeking out little ways to make things better – speaking gently to Victor, bringing him a cappuccino when he took his break, and slowly letting his guard down bit by bit as the day wore on.

It was as Benji began to relax around him that he finally noticed it. There were dark lines at the nape of Victor’s neck which looked like two conjoined circles, like an infinity symbol, until he stared a little longer and realized that it was actually the letter ‘B’ turned on its side. The curved back of an ‘e’ followed closely behind it, the other half of the letter disappearing beneath the strap of Victor’s apron.

Even though Benji couldn’t see much of the name, it was undeniably his own handwriting.

He’d known that his name must be somewhere on Victor’s body after their conversation on Friday, but actually seeing the hard evidence of it was another matter entirely. The letters were written sideways, starting at his neck and appearing as though they ran in a straight line down Victor’s spine. Even though he was looking at his own name marking Victor’s skin, somehow the sight of it made Benji feel owned.

A minute later he was in the back room, opening his locker, and reaching inside with a shaking hand for the flask hidden beneath a spare shirt. It was f*cked up to think so, but the burn of the alcohol on his tongue felt medicinal. He took another quick shot before tucking it away again and returning to the front.

As he moved around the small space behind the counter, Benji’s eyes kept drifting toward Victor’s neck again and again. He didn’t want to see it, he hated seeing it, but the letters had some strange, magnetic effect that continued to tug on his gaze even when he wanted to look away. It was real. It wasn’t a mistake or a misunderstanding or a coincidence. It was real, and the evidence was right there in front of him, written over Victor’s spine.

Some people liked to read meaning into the places where names appeared. On the hand – a giving person; over the heart – possessive, jealous; on the foot – someone who won’t stay for long. The backbone – someone strong and stable. The thought that Benji, a liar and an addict, could be either of those things was laughable.

Victor went out to bus tables and Benji watched the way he moved around the room so slowly, as though every movement hurt. He spent a lot of time staring downward, at the floor, at the tables, at his own hands as they worked, and there was something about the way he was carrying himself that was heart-breakingly defeated.

Benji knew he should just go on ignoring Victor and maintaining the distance between them. In the end, it would be less painful that way for both of them, since Benji couldn’t be what Victor wanted him to be. And yet, when Victor returned to the space behind the counter, Benji found himself turning toward him and saying, “You’ve been catching onto everything here really quickly. Even Sarah was impressed. How do you feel about it? You settling in okay?”

Victor was surprised enough to be spoken to that he actually looked up and they made eye contact for the first time that day. Victor’s irises were catching the rays of sunlight from the window nearby, making the rich, dark brown glow warmly. Lit up like this they looked like amber, like something Benji could get trapped within if he stared for just a little too long.

“Um, yeah. I guess so,” Victor mumbled, sending his gaze back to the floor again. Despite himself, Benji missed those eyes as soon as they darted away.

Just leave it and get back to work, he told himself, but instead a second later his mouth opened and he found himself asking, “And you never worked at a cafe or anything before this?”

“No. I, uh, I worked at a grocery store last spring when I first arrived in Atlanta, but this is actually only the second job I’ve ever had,” Victor admitted.

“Really?” Benji had a hard time imagining never having worked until you were over twenty. He had gotten his first job at age fifteen and had never been without one since.

“Yeah, the school I was going to in Texas was really strict. They didn’t allow students to work off-campus,” Victor explained. “My parents didn’t really want me to work either.”

Benji frowned in confusion. “What kind of school doesn’t allow its students to work? How are you supposed to support yourself financially?”

“There were a lot of scholarships and financial aid programs available.”

It still sounded super weird to Benji, but it wasn’t like he knew much about college. “Was it some kind of private school or something?”

Victor seemed to be getting more and more uncomfortable the longer they stayed on the topic. “Yeah, something like that.”

To ease the tension a little, Benji asked, “So what are you studying now?”

Victor darted a surprised look at him, like he couldn’t quite believe that Benji was still talking to him. Benji couldn’t believe it either. He didn’t know what he was doing just then; it was incredibly stupid to try and get to know someone that he was better off avoiding as much as possible. But he hated how miserable Victor looked and the guilt inside of him was driving him to do something, anything, to make things better.

“Applied Linguistics,” Victor answered. “I’m planning on working as an interpreter or translator after I graduate.”

Benji wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to hear, but it wasn’t that. He didn’t know the first thing about linguistics. “So you speak another language then?”

“Spanish,” Victor confirmed. “I grew up bilingual.”

“That’s really cool,” Benji said, and found himself wanting to ask more, but just then Victor interrupted him.

“I think some of the supplies are running a little low out there. I’m just gonna go restock them.”

Benji watched as Victor walked away from him, moving faster than he had all day, and he wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot. Why was he trying to make small talk? Just because he was feeling guilty? All he was doing was making Victor uncomfortable and now the awkward tension between them was even worse than it already had been.

He didn’t try to talk to Victor again after that unless it was necessary, and it was a relief when their coworker Dave came in around six to help with the evening rush. It seemed to be Dave’s first shift together with Victor, and given the small space behind the counter Benji couldn’t help listening in as the two of them chatted while they worked on preparing the drink orders that Benji was taking at the register.

“So what part of Texas are you from?” Dave asked as he ran the blender for a smoothie.

Victor handed a latte over to a customer and then answered, “Graham. It’s a couple hours northwest of Dallas.”

“Never heard of it,” Dave said. Out of the corner of his eye Benji caught a flash of a small smile on Victor’s face. It was the first one he’d seen all day.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. It’s not exactly a big town. There’s probably more cows than people there.”

“So how’d you end up in Atlanta then?”

“My sister was already living here, so I moved out here last January to stay with her for a bit, and then I ended up deciding to apply to Creekwood. That’s where my sister’s studying, too. What about you? Are you a student?”

“Yep. Everybody at Brasstown goes to Creekwood except for Sarah,” Dave answered, and then quickly added, “Oh, and Benji. He’s too busy trying to be a rock star to go to school, isn’t that right man?”

“More like I’m too busy trying to earn a living,” Benji said dryly, wishing Dave hadn’t dragged him into their conversation like that. He chanced a quick look at Victor just before the next customer stepped up, and there was no longer any hint of a smile on his face. A moment later Benji called back to Dave, “I need a large mango and passion fruit smoothie, no added sugar.”

“Got it. Hey, you should check out Benji’s band some time, they’re really good,” Dave said, speaking to Victor before looking at Benji over his shoulder and asking, “What are you guys called again? The Sinking Ships?”

“The Distant Ships,” Victor answered for him, much to the surprise of both Benji and Dave. Victor’s shoulders were a little hunched and he kept his eyes on the cup of milk he was steaming rather than look at either of them. “I, uh, I actually already saw them play. At a party last week.”

“Oh, nice. They’re awesome, right?”

“Uh, yeah, totally,” Victor said, his voice strained. This was beginning to feel like one of the longest shifts of Benji’s life. The mention of the party caused his mind to briefly flash back to that room with the red sheet over the window, his senses suddenly flooded with memories of Victor’s body: how he’d tasted, the sound of his voice gasping breathlessly near Benji’s ear, the way it had felt to hold him as he’d shuddered in Benji’s arms.

“Dave, take over for me on the register for a sec,” Benji requested, working hard to mask his urgency.

On his way through the locker room, Benji grabbed his flask and carefully slipped it into his pocket with his back to the security camera. The second he had the door to the employee bathroom closed behind him, he rushed to remove the lid and bring the cool metal up to his lips. The kiss of the whiskey burned sweetly, taking a little of the edge off. Benji closed his eyes and willed himself to take every memory of his encounter with Victor the previous weekend and bury them as deeply as he possibly could.

Dave left around nine, shortly before it was time to close the cafe for the night. The tension in the air grew thicker the closer Benji and Victor came to being alone again, and now that Dave was gone Victor was back to trudging around as gloomily as he had earlier in the day.

At nine thirty Benji locked the door and they spent the first ten minutes of the closing routine completing their tasks in silence. Every scrape of a chair leg across the floor and thud of a bottle of cleaning spray being set down echoed around the empty room with the gravity of a gunshot. Eventually Benji just couldn’t deal with it anymore and he said, “Hey, if you want to, we could put some music on in here.”

Victor just shrugged and said, “Sure,” without looking at him, and for some reason being ignored like that made the guilt roiling inside Benji’s gut ten times worse.

“If you have your phone on you, I could connect it to the speakers and play something,” Benji offered.

With his back to Benji, Victor said, “It’s in my locker right now.”

“Oh, okay.” The sight of Victor’s tense shoulders and the hint of Benji’s name at the base of his neck had Benji feeling strangely restless. Like he wanted to grab Victor. Like he wanted to spin him around and make him look at him. He asked, a little stupidly, “Well, uh, what kind of music do you like?”

Victor finally did turn around then, and there was a weariness edged with annoyance in his expression that took Benji by surprise.

“Look, you don’t need to do this,” Victor said.

“Do what?”

Victor put down the towel he was holding and let out a breath of frustration. “Try to be friendly or whatever. I know that both of us working here is really awkward, and I should probably just quit but… Well, the truth is that it took me awhile to find a job near campus that worked with my class schedule, and I actually like it here, and I don’t really want to quit. But us being friends isn’t going to make things easier for me. We should just do what you said before. Keep things professional.”

There was a fierce ache in Benji’s chest that he didn’t understand. What Victor was suggesting was exactly what he himself wanted. Or, at least, it was what he was supposed to want. So why did it suddenly hurt so much?

“Okay,” Benji agreed. His hand was shaking a little, itching to wrap around the flask that was once again hidden within his locker. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Victor turned away from him once more. “It’s fine,” he muttered, in a small, tired voice that made it clear that nothing was really fine at all.

The “B” on the back of his neck seemed to be taunting Benji. Out of nowhere, an old memory surfaced: a hot day in the backyard, the cool spray of water from the sprinkler, and his father’s voice saying, “They’re under your skin, whether you like it or not.”

One of Benji’s fingers came up to brush unconsciously against the cage of his own ribs. The hollow within him ached something awful as he got back to work, turning away from the lonely figure of Victor moving slowly through the shadows of the cafe at night.

Benji had made plans to get lunch with Lake the next day, since Mondays were his day off from Brasstown, but the hangover he’d woken up with was nasty enough that he’d had to push it back by an hour.

“Sorry for being late,” Benji told her as he took a seat beside her at the sushi bar. Tiny, colorful plates of raw fish moved slowly along a conveyor belt in front of him and he forced himself to ignore the way his stomach rolled in response. He filled a cup with green tea in the hopes that it might help to dull the nausea a bit.

“Is everything okay?” Lake asked, a note of concern in her voice.

Benji gave her the best smile he could and said, “Yeah, fine, I just stayed a little too long at the gym this morning.”

They both went to the same gym, which was how they’d met over a year ago when Lake’s yoga class finished right before the kickboxing one he’d been doing at the time, and they kept running into each other. She was frowning a little suspiciously, maybe questioning the lie he’d just told, so he quickly asked her how Felix was doing since the topic of her new boyfriend always worked well as a distraction. Sure enough Lake spent the next ten minutes pretending to complain about Felix and his nerdy hobbies while glowing happily and fooling absolutely no one.

“What about you?” she asked a while later as she reached out to snag some tuna nigiri on its way past them. So far all Benji had eaten was a bowl of miso soup and some of the plainest sushi he could find, mostly the ones with just egg or cucumber. The mild food and the tea were slowly beginning to settle his stomach, much to his relief.

“What about me?” he asked in confusion.

“Have you met anyone recently? I still don’t understand how someone as cute as you can stay single for so long.”

And there was that awful twisting sensation in his gut again. Benji took a sip of his tea and said, “I don’t really have much time for dating between work and the band and everything.”

“You know what I think it is?” Lake asked rhetorically. “I think you have a commitment phobia.”

Benji laughed. “What?”

“Seriously. Whenever we go out, or I come to one of your shows, you’re always with some new girl, and then I never see her again. Are you just a total player, Benjamin Campbell? Is that what’s going on?”

“No,” Benji scoffed. This line of questioning was beginning to make him extremely uncomfortable. “Is there something wrong with not wanting a relationship? Especially when I’m too busy for one?”

“Of course not,” Lake answered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so judgy. It’s just that… well, you always seem kind of lonely to me. Maybe a relationship wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“You’re just saying that because you and Felix are in the honeymoon stage right now and you’re getting all sappy on me,” Benji joked, trying to brush off the fact that Lake had noticed how alone he was. For some reason the image of Victor, his back turned to Benji the night before, flashed through his mind, and he was hit with a sudden, intense pang of self-hatred.

Lake shook her head at him. “Okay, fine, I am really happy these days, you got me. Maybe I am turning into a giant sap. But why can’t I want my friends to be happy, too?”

“I am happy,” Benji insisted, which was among one of the most blatant, baldfaced lies he’d ever told, and that was really saying something. “I have a job that I enjoy, and the band has been doing great lately, and I actually like being single. You don’t need to worry about me so much.”

“All right, fine,” Lake said, finally admitting defeat. “But tell me if you change your mind. I know some really cute girls that you might like, and I could probably set aside my deep and abiding passion for you long enough to set you up with one of them if you’re ever interested. I mean, unless you’re secretly one of those people who’s saving themselves for their soulmate or whatever,” she tagged on with a laugh.

“Nope, definitely not.” He put back the last of his tea and went about making a second cup. It was helping somewhat with the constant state of nausea that kept returning, thanks to the combined influence of a lingering hangover and the usual shame that he always carried around with him during conversations like this one. “And thanks, but I’m good for now when it comes to dating. No need for any matchmaking services. Who knew you were such a shadchanit?”

“A what now?” Lake asked blankly.

“A matchmaker.”

“Oh. Well, as a matter of fact, I am pretty good at it. I got Brian and Jess together last summer, remember? And lately I’ve been working on Mia and Andrew, but Mia has been rightfully annoyed about the jealous act he’s been putting on around her recently just because she’s made friends with some new guy. I mean, to be fair, the new guy is very cute and I think Mia might actually be kinda into him, but he doesn’t seem like he feels the same way, so hopefully she’ll take my advice and give Andrew a shot instead. He’s a lot sweeter than he seems on the surface.”

“If you say so,” Benji said. He’d met Andrew a few times at parties at Lake and Mia’s apartment, and his main impression was that Andrew was just a stereotypical jock who cracked stupid jokes and had a tendency to bully others at times. He didn’t really seem good enough for Mia in Benji’s opinion, but he wasn’t going to tell Lake that. A text message from Derek made him look at his phone then, and he realized that it was nearly three o’clock already. “Hey, sorry, but I have to get going if I’m gonna make it to band practice on time.”

“Okay, no worries. When’s your next show by the way? I haven’t been to one in forever.”

“We have one on Saturday. I’ll send you the location later.”

After lunch he walked back to his apartment to grab the new song he’d been working on (Derek’s text had been a reminder about it) and then he drove over to Justin’s place. It was a small three bedroom house which Justin shared with several roommates, not far from Derek’s apartment, and the garage was where The Distant Ships did all of their rehearsing. Everyone else was already there getting warmed up by the time Benji arrived, slightly late, with his guitar case in hand.

The practice went pretty well, aside from a minor argument that broke out over part of the melody for the new song, but as usual Justin found a way to smooth things over that everyone was willing to accept. In the past it was usually Benji and Derek that tended to get into creative disputes, but nowadays it was frequently Alex who had the strongest opinions and was the most stubborn about them. Benji was a little worried that this might lead to them needing to find yet another new drummer at some point in the future and was really hoping that wouldn’t be the case. It had taken them awhile to find someone decent after James had left, and Alex was far and away the best drummer they’d ever had.

Around six thirty Derek put down his bass and said, “Hey guys, I’m gonna have to head out a little early tonight. There’s a rally downtown I need to get to.”

“Oh, yeah? What for?” Alex asked.

Benji was already dreading whatever Derek was about to say next, so he kept himself busy putting away his music notes and guitar.

“A gay rights group that I’m part of is organizing a protest today against workplace discrimination. Last week a lesbian teacher was outed by one of her coworkers and ended up getting fired, so we’re joining a coalition of gay and lesbian public school employees to demand that she gets her job back, but really we’re hoping that this case will drum up some support for a non-discrimination bill that’s being proposed soon. It’s still completely legal in this country to fire someone because of their sexuality, which is pretty f*cked up.”

“Was she, like, messing around with one of her students or something?” Alex said, and Benji didn’t need to look over at Derek to know that his jaw would be clenched in anger.

“No,” Derek bit out. “She’s been in a committed relationship with her soulmate, who just happens to be a woman, for the last twelve years. If it were legal, they’d be married by now.”

Alex shook his head a little at that and didn’t say anything, so Derek snapped, “What’s your problem? One of the first things we told you when you joined the band was that I’m gay, and you said you were cool with it. Were you just bullsh*tting me?”

“No. I am cool with it. Feel free to f*ck whoever you want to,” Alex said, a little snidely. “I honestly don’t give a crap. I just don’t really see the point in taking what you do in the bedroom and making some big political thing out of it.”

“Because the personal is political. You can’t separate the two.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that one of those women’s libber slogans?”

“What, do you think women’s rights are also a waste of time?”

“Guys, come on. Can we just try and chill?” Justin urged. Derek shot him a glare and Justin hurried to say, “Look, man, you know that I’m totally on board with equal rights for everybody, gay, straight, male, female, whatever. And Alex needs to get on board with that, too, if he’s staying in this band. Right, Alex?”

“Yeah, like I said, I’m cool with it,” Alex reiterated.

“Well, if any of you would like to actually prove that you care about equality, the rally’s starting at seven and you’re all welcome to join me.” Derek made pointed eye contact with Benji after saying this, which Benji ignored, so Derek let out a sigh of exasperation. “But I’m guessing I’m the only one here that actually gives a sh*t about equal rights for gays.”

“I’m sure you’re not the only one who cares,” Justin said meaningfully, and it was obvious what he was hinting at. Benji felt his stomach clench at the subtle reminder that Justin knew about him. “I do, anyway, but I can’t come tonight, sorry. I already have plans to stay in with Hannah and she’s gonna kill me if I try and skip our movie night again.”

“Benji, you wanna come? The rally’s on this side of town but you can crash at mine afterwards if you want,” Derek suggested.

Benji could feel the weight of Alex’s curious stare settling on him and he forced himself to keep a neutral expression as he said, “I can’t, I’m busy tonight, too. I’m meeting some friends later.”

Derek looked at him in a way that made it clear he thought that was a complete lie, which it was, but fortunately his only reaction was to purse his lips in disappointment.

They all headed out a short while after that, and Benji proceeded to spend the rest of his evening siting on his balcony listening to music, sketching idly, and getting slowly drunk on bourbon. Around ten o’clock he got a text message from Derek asking if he was actually busy that night and whether he wanted to hang out. All Benji had been able to think about from the moment he’d woken up was Victor – how depressed he had been the day before and how sh*tty it made Benji feel in response – and Derek seemed like he might be the kind of distraction that Benji needed that night. So he texted back to say that he was free and about twenty minutes later Derek showed up at his place.

Sex with Derek was usually good. They’d been sleeping together off and on for about a year by that point, aside from a few periods when Derek had been dating someone. They were so familiar with each other and there was something nice about being with a person who knew what you liked without needing to be told. It was uncomplicated and it helped to make the hollow inside of him slightly more bearable, and despite the shame that always came creeping in afterward, Benji kept coming back for more.

But it felt different that night.

After a couple of beers on Benji’s balcony they moved inside, and making out quickly led to shedding clothing which in turn led to sex. Most of the time Derek topped because that was what they were both into and right then that was what Benji needed. He was so tired of trying to be in control all the time and constantly feeling as though he was failing at it; for a little while he needed someone else to take charge for just as long as it took to get some relief. So Benji ended up laid out on his back in the bed, with his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist, and even though it felt good, even though Derek was doing everything right, something just wasn’t working for him. The room was lit by only a single lamp, and as Benji looked up at him in the dim lighting, Derek’s pale blue irises and fair skin began to shift, replaced with memories of a darker complexion and a bright gaze that had shone out at him from the shadows of a red-tinged room. He had to shut his eyes and chase those images just to feel something again, reaching out in his mind for the press of Victor’s hands on his skin and the taste of Victor’s mouth under his own.

He was with Derek, as close to him as he could get, but somehow it was Victor who was inside of him, underneath his skin, slipping past the chinks in Benji’s defenses. In a moment of weakness there was a name hovering on Benji’s lips, but he bit down and silenced it roughly with his teeth.

Chapter 6: Go Your Own Way

Chapter Text

“So are you gonna go back to Texas for Christmas?” Dave asked Victor one evening in December when the three of them were working a closing shift again. Dave, as usual, was just picking up a few hours during the busiest time of the night when droves of college students cramming for finals were pouring into the cafe for some post-dinner caffeine.

“No, I’m staying here. I think I’ll probably just do something with my sister,” Victor answered. “What about you? Are you going back to Portland?”

“Yep, my dad just bought me a ticket. I’m leaving on the twenty-first.”

“Nice. Are you looking forward to going back?”

Benji tuned them out to the best of his ability as the next customer stepped up, a harried looking older man with a pile of papers under his arm that Benji assumed was probably a professor. “Large ristretto cappuccino for here,” he called back to Victor after taking the order.

Victor continued chatting with Dave about his holiday plans while making drinks, and as had become Benji’s routine in the two weeks since Victor had started working at Brasstown, Benji took orders at the register and listened in without participating in their conversation. These days Victor was a little more talkative and relaxed than he had been at first, but the depression that had begun the night Benji had lied to him about his name hadn’t entirely abated. He still smiled infrequently and avoided interacting with Benji as much as possible, and sometimes when Victor thought no one was paying attention to him Benji would catch him staring blankly at nothing in particular, an apathy in his eyes that hurt to look at.

Although Benji was keeping his distance as well, he’d been learning a lot about Victor from all the time they spent together at work. Through Victor’s conversations with Dave on nights like this one, he’d learned that Victor was the oldest of three children, that he doted on his little brother, that he loved music and watching movies but didn’t read often, and that he had grandparents in Puerto Rico that he used to visit as a teenager but hadn’t seen in years. He’d learned about Victor’s hobbies (he liked basketball and running), and his taste in food (he was really into eating healthy but apparently had a weakness for pastries, especially the kinds that could be bought at Hispanic bakeries with Spanish names that Benji didn’t recognize), and Benji was beginning to infer from what Victor didn’t say that he’d led a very sheltered life growing up.

From watching him interact with the customers Benji had learned that Victor was friendly and kind, and that he was helpful. He had grabbed a high chair from the back for a mom with a toddler without being asked one afternoon, making her smile gratefully at him as she lifted the little boy into it; on another occasion he had spent five minutes helping a customer who didn’t speak English well communicate with a lost Uber driver. He had a sense of humor that didn’t emerge often given how sad he seemed to be most of the time, but whenever it did it took Benji by surprise, and he had to turn away before Victor caught him smiling. He was hard-working, reliable, and never late. He sometimes had a bad habit of losing his temper too easily, like the day he’d snapped at a couple of teenagers for making a huge mess of the counter where the self-serve sugar and milk was kept. He could be impulsive at times, too, and he always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve (although Benji wasn’t sure if this last thing was a negative trait or yet another charming one.)

“Hey, you wanna grab a drink tonight after closing?” Dave asked Victor when the rush of customers began to die down. “We can meet somewhere on campus when you finish.”

“Sure, that sounds fun,” Victor agreed easily, and Benji hated himself for the spark of jealously that flared up within him at that moment.

Dave turned to him and said, “You wanna join us?”

It was a Thursday night and he needed to open the next day, and on top of that he’d already agreed to meet up with Derek after work. In addition to those things was the obvious fact that Benji was supposed to be avoiding any contact with Victor that wasn’t strictly necessary.

Despite all of that, Benji found himself saying, “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

Victor looked over at him in surprise, his wide eyes holding both fear and a warning in them. Fortunately a customer approached the counter just then, giving Benji an excuse to turn quickly away from him.

At nine Dave left and then a half an hour later Benji was able to lock the doors for the night. He put on a playlist (mainstream pop hits that he wasn’t normally a fan of but which he knew Victor liked) and got started counting out the till while Victor was wiping down tables. For the first five minutes they worked in silence just like they usually did, but every time Benji glanced over at Victor his shoulders seemed to be hunched a little higher, his lips a little thinner. He was obviously pissed, and halfway through flipping some chairs up onto a tabletop Victor paused, spun around to face Benji and demanded, “What the hell?”

Benji stared back at him in surprise at the sudden outburst.

“Why would you agree to come out with us?” Victor clarified after another few seconds of Benji failing to respond.

Guilt clawed at Benji’s guts, but at the same time, there was that stupid, petty jealousy burning inside of him at the thought of Victor and Dave out somewhere without him, at the easy way Dave could coax a smile or sometimes even a laugh out of Victor. The only time during their eight hour closing shifts together that Victor would brighten up were the hours that Dave was present and it was Benji’s fault but he still f*cking hated it.

“I’ve known Dave for almost a year now and we go out after work together all the time,” Benji said, trying to sound calm and reasonable. “Am I supposed to stop doing that now?”

“He asked me first. You should’ve said no,” Victor argued. This was the longest period of eye contact he’d made with Benji in days, maybe the entire week, and Benji could feel his pulse quickening in response. “You could hang out with him some other time.”

“So could you,” Benji pointed out. It was the wrong thing to say, clearly, as Victor’s expression immediately darkened with frustration. Benji rushed to try and placate him, “Look, I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I’m trying to keep things professional like we agreed we would, but Dave is a friend, and I haven’t done anything outside of work with him in awhile. I didn’t realize it would upset you so much.”

Victor was beginning to look calmer now, so Benji added, “Why don’t we just give it a try? It’s only drinks with another coworker. If you start to feel uncomfortable you can just give me a hint and I’ll leave, okay?”

After a moment of uncertainty, Victor finally let out a breath of defeat, his shoulders sagging as he said, “Fine. We can give it a try, I guess.”

They finished closing up in silence, and then headed out of the cafe in the direction of the bar where they were meeting Dave. Victor still seemed tense, and it made Benji feel terrible about what he was doing, so he said, “I really am sorry about earlier. You’re right, I probably should’ve said no. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay,” Victor said quietly. It was a cold night and he had his hands tucked into the pockets of the jacket he was wearing over a hoodie, his breath puffing out ahead of him in little white clouds. “Maybe I was overreacting. I, uh… I kind of have a quick temper sometimes.”

Benji couldn’t help smiling at that. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Victor looked over at him in surprise, so Benji said, “That day with the obnoxious high school kids who made a huge mess, I was a little worried you were going to bash one of them with the pitcher of half and half if they dropped another wad of sticky napkins on the floor. I was, like, five seconds away from coming over there in case things got ugly.”

Victor cringed slightly in embarrassment, but there was just a hint of a smile turning up one side of his mouth. “Sorry, I know yelling at them like that was super unprofessional of me, but…”

“Nah, I don’t really blame you. Those kids have come in before and done the same thing a bunch of times. Everyone at Brasstown hates their guts. You’re not the only who’s ever shouted at them.”

“I bet you haven’t, though,” Victor said. Benji wasn’t really sure how to respond to that, and after a pause Victor explained, “You’re just, uh… really patient with people. I can’t imagine you ever losing your temper like I did.”

“I get angry sometimes, too.”

Victor looked skeptical. “Are you saying you have yelled at them?”

“Okay, no, I haven’t,” Benji conceded. “I do water down their espresso, though.”

Victor laughed a little at that, and the sound made Benji’s heart skip a beat. Victor asked disbelievingly, “Is that really your idea of revenge? Watered down espresso?”

“Hey, I take my coffee very seriously. Weak espresso shots are no joke to me.”

Victor shook his head, but there was a small smile on his face now. They walked down the next block without saying anything else, but the silence felt more comfortable than it had before. Along the way, Benji sent off a quick text to Derek to let him know he couldn’t hang out that evening after all, and got a terse “ok fine” in reply a minute later. At the corner they reached The Cheerful Tortoise, the sports bar on the edge of the Creekwood College campus that was one of the more popular drinking spots in the area. As usual the large sign over the double doors had something tacky written on it in bold black letters.

“Classy,” Victor muttered as he read it (today’s quip was “meet here 2nite get ghosted tmw”). The reference to hooking up suddenly had the atmosphere between them feeling awkward again.

Dave had grabbed a booth and was waiting there for them when they walked up, along with his girlfriend Becca who was tucked under his arm sipping a beer.

“Hey, Benji,” she said in greeting. “Long time no see.”

“How have you been?” Benji asked her.

“Exhausted. It’s been a rough semester, but at least we’re nearly done now.” She gave Victor a friendly smile. “Guess you must be the new guy at Brasstown. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Becca, Dave’s girlfriend.”

Victor slid into the booth opposite them. “Nice to meet you, too. The only thing Dave talks about more than Portland is you, so it’s pretty exciting to finally put a face to the name.”

Dave spluttered as Becca laughed and said, “Nah, he definitely talks about Portland more.”

Benji hadn’t sat down yet, so he told Victor, “I’m gonna go grab a beer. What would you like?”

“Oh, you don’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s cool. You can get the next round.”

Victor looked a little hesitant but finally told him what beer he preferred, and Benji went over to the bar to order. It was crowded for a Thursday night, presumably because of some basketball game that was playing on multiple screens around the room which most of the people there were watching avidly. The others were in the midst of discussing it when Benji returned with the drinks a few minutes later.

“Must’ve been a bummer to get stuck working during most of the game if you’re a big basketball fan,” Becca was saying to Victor as Benji slipped into the booth beside him. He handed one of the glasses over to him and Victor took it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“It’s okay, at least I can catch the end now,” Victor replied. He nodded toward a group of jocks on the far side of the room and Benji recognized Andrew sitting in the middle of them. “Looks like most of my teammates are here tonight, too.”

Andrew noticed Benji looking his way, so they exchanged friendly nods which had Victor turning to him in surprise.

“You know Andrew Spencer?”

“He’s a friend of a friend,” Benji explained. “This campus isn’t as big as it seems at first. Sometimes it feels like everyone pretty much knows everyone here. Me included, and I’m not even a student.”

“Victor’s on the basketball team,” Dave told his girlfriend. “What position do you play again? Didn’t you say you were the point guard?”

Victor shook his head. “No, that was back when I was playing in high school. Right now I’m the reserve shooting guard.”

“Oh, cool, remind me never to try and play Horse against you then,” Dave joked. Everyone laughed except for Benji and Dave rolled his eyes a little at him. “Benji, after all the nights we’ve spent hanging out at this bar after work, how are you still so clueless about sports? You’re one of the only guys I know who isn’t into them.”

“It’s just not really my thing,” Benji said, shrugging. “I’m more into music, painting, literature… stuff like that.”

“Watch out man, people are gonna start getting the wrong idea about you,” Dave said with a grin, clearly intending his teasing to be good-natured, and not realizing how uncomfortable he had just made Benji. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Victor tensing up slightly as well.

Before Benji could figure out a way to brush the comment off, a couple of women wandered over to their table.

“Becca, how’s it going?” the taller of the two said. She had thick brown hair pulled up into a messy bun and light brown skin a similar shade to Victor’s. Both the brunette and her friend, a petite blond girl with a round, freckled face, were wearing Creekwood t-shirts and looked a little rosy-cheeked, as though they’d been drinking for awhile already.

“Oh, hey guys. I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

“Yeah, we needed a break from the finals week stress. Just two more left to go for me,” the blonde said. She gave Victor a long, somewhat lingering look and asked, “Wait, don’t we have a class together?”

“Uh, I’m not sure…” Victor answered, clearly a little embarrassed not to recognize her.

“You’re taking sociolinguistics with Schneider, right? The course on gender and language?”

“Oh, um, yeah, sorry I didn’t remember you at first. I don’t think I’ve seen you in any of my other linguistics classes so…”

“I’m just taking that one as an elective for my Women’s Studies minor,” she explained. “I’m Julie, by the way, and this is Carmen.”

“Victor.”

“You guys wanna join us?” Becca asked them.

“I’d love to but we’re actually here with some other friends tonight. It’s kind of a low-key birthday thing for one of them,” Carmen said.

Julie gave Victor a warm smile. “It was good seeing you, Victor. Maybe after class sometime we could go out? Get lunch or a coffee or something?”

“Sure,” Victor said, just as easily as he’d accepted Dave’s invitation earlier in the evening. Once again Benji felt an uncomfortable twisting in his gut, and it was stupid, it wasn’t fair of him to feel jealous like this when he was the one who had pushed Victor away… and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from resenting how simple it was for everyone else to be close to Victor when he himself couldn’t be.

“Is it always that easy for you to pick up girls? You just sit back and let them come to you?” Dave asked Victor with a laugh.

Victor blinked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Dude, we’ve been in this bar for, what? Fifteen minutes? And you already got yourself a date.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Victor’s pretty cute after all,” Becca teased, giving him a wink.

“Hey, now-” Dave said, pretending to be angry, so Becca leaned over and kissed him.

“Wait, you think she was asking me out on a date?” Victor blurted out, and the three of them all turned to stare at him in surprise.

“Um, yeah, man. Obviously.” Dave laughed again. “How did you not know that?”

“I guess I just thought she was being friendly…”

Benji had been quietly putting back his beer at a much faster rate than everyone else at the table, and the current topic was making him desperate for another one, so he stood up abruptly and said, “I’ll be right back,” before returning to the bar. He could almost feel Victor’s gaze following him as he walked away.

It was tempting to go for something stronger, and he very nearly ordered a whiskey, but he had to pace himself that evening. Victor was there, and Benji needed to stay in control around him, not to mention he needed to be able to drive himself home later. So he asked for another beer, a slightly weaker one than the previous, and headed back to the table. Unfortunately, in the time he was gone the conversation still hadn’t moved on from Victor’s love life.

“Are you seriously telling us that you’ve never had a girlfriend before?” Dave was asking in shock as Benji took his seat again.

Victor looked extremely uncomfortable, his hands anxiously twisting his glass around and spreading a little pool of condensation across the table. He seemed to be carefully avoiding looking in Benji’s direction, and Benji was beginning to seriously wish that he’d just hung out at the bar for awhile longer.

Victor swallowed some of his lager, scrunching his nose slightly as though he didn’t like the taste. “My family’s really religious. They didn’t approve of me dating… But it’s not like I’m totally inexperienced or something. I’ve just never had a girlfriend, that’s all.”

The IPA Benji was drinking was particularly bitter, and the overpowering taste of the hops flooded his mouth as he took another large sip. He forced himself not to think about the fact that Victor definitely wasn’t inexperienced. At least, not when it came to men, anyway. At the rate he was going, Benji would need a third beer pretty soon. So much for pacing himself.

“Did they expect you to wait for your soulmate? I’ve heard of churches like that. A friend of mine in high school went to one of them,” Becca said, frowning sympathetically.

With a little shrug and another sip of his beer, Victor said, “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”

He didn’t sound very convincing, but the others seemed to realize how tense he’d become so Dave said reassuringly, “Well, don’t worry, I’m sure you can make up for lost time now that you’re living here on your own. You should get out there, have some fun. I’ve never understood why some people are so obsessed with waiting for their soulmate to show up. I mean, it’s not like that relationship is guaranteed to work out perfectly or anything. My parents were soulmates and they were horrible to each other.”

“Mine weren’t actually soulmates at all,” Becca added. “And they’re still going strong after twenty years. Dave’s right, Victor, don’t let that stuff hold you back from living your life. Who knows, maybe you and Julie could be a good match.”

Victor smiled half-heartedly and took another long drink from his beer, finally draining the glass. “Yeah, I’m sure you guys are right,” he said softly. He didn’t look at Benji as he said, “Sorry, can I get out? I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

Benji knew this would probably be a good time for him to leave, even though he hadn’t been at the bar for long. Victor was obviously struggling and Benji’s presence beside him was undoubtedly just making it worse. But he couldn’t seem to find the willpower to stand up and go, no matter how bad he felt about staying.

“You think he’s okay?” Dave asked Benji after Victor had left. “I get the feeling sometimes that he’s, like, kinda depressed or something. He’s a nice guy, he’s always really friendly, but… he seems a little messed up.”

“I don’t know,” Benji answered, unsure what to say to that. He sipped his beer, trying to wash away the guilt that felt like it might choke him. “I haven’t known him very long.”

“It’s probably just his ultra-religious upbringing. Can you imagine growing up like that? Not even being allowed to date? That sounds really weird,” Becca commented.

Dave looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “Maybe he’s gay.”

Benji nearly did choke for real on the beer he was sipping, and Becca turned to look at her boyfriend in surprise.

Dave shrugged and said, “I’m serious, it kinda makes sense. Sometimes gay people use religion or their soulmate as an excuse to not date, you know? That’s what my cousin Tony did before he finally told everyone. He was lucky enough to have his name written on his scalp where no one could see it, so he just claimed to be straight until he was in his thirties. He always told everyone at family reunions that he didn’t have a girlfriend because he was waiting for his named partner. And anyway, tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve seen Victor be totally clueless around a girl that was trying to flirt with him. It happened at the cafe last week, too.”

“You don’t know that that’s the reason,” Benji said, trying to steer Dave away from his current line of thought. “There are a lot of people who actually believe in that stuff about saving themselves for their soulmate.”

“He’s right,” Becca agreed. “You probably shouldn’t just assume something like that about someone. He’s probably just shy, given the way he grew up.”

Victor was headed back toward their table, so Dave quickly changed the topic back to a discussion of everyone’s holiday plans. “Isn’t Hanukkah starting this week?” he asked Benji as Victor joined them again.

“It started yesterday, actually,” Benji answered. “Mom texted me a photo of the menorah last night as a reminder to take the day off on Wednesday so we can celebrate together.”

“You’re Jewish?” Victor asked in surprise.

Benji nodded. “Yeah, on my mom’s side. My family’s not all that religious, though. It’s more of a cultural thing for us. We’ll probably just end up eating latkes and watching movies next week.”

“What’s that?”

“What, latkes? They’re potato pancakes, kind of like hash browns. People usually eat fried foods for Hanukkah.”

“Oh. Sorry, I don’t really know much about it,” Victor admitted. “There weren’t really any Jewish people in Graham that I knew of.”

“Sounds like it wasn’t exactly the most exciting place to grow up,” Dave commented. “No offense.”

Victor grinned and said teasingly, “Well, we can’t all be from somewhere as magical as Portland, Oregon.”

“Dude, it’s or-uh-gun. It physically pains me when I hear people say or-uh-gone.”

“Oh I am so sorry, please try to find it in your heart to forgive me,” Victor said sarcastically, and Benji had never seen him look as relaxed as he did then. Victor had picked up a second beer on his way back from the bathroom, already finishing nearly half of it, and there was a slight flush beginning to darken his cheekbones. For some reason it was weirdly charming to realize that Victor was apparently a total lightweight.

They spent another hour at the bar, Benji getting comfortably buzzed while Victor ended up very drunk after just four pints. He was like a completely different person that evening, laughing and joking around and even occasionally smiling at Benji. Benji kept thinking to himself, “I’ll leave after this drink”, but then there would be one more drink, or Victor would be telling a funny story, and he ended up staying until Dave and Becca started making their excuses to go home for the night.

“Do you think you can get this guy back to his dorm?” Dave asked Benji as they were all standing up and putting their coats on. “He looks like he could use the help.”

Victor seemed to be having trouble getting his arm into the correct sleeve of his jacket, and would’ve lost his balance and careened into the table if Benji hadn’t quickly reached out to catch him. Benji pulled his hand away just as fast, but Victor didn’t really react to the touch beyond simply blinking over at him in surprise.

“Uh…” Benji trailed off, not really sure what to do.

“I would do it, but his building’s on the opposite side of the campus. I think it’s probably closer to where you usually park your car,” Dave explained. “Do you mind? He lives in Smith, it’s that really tall one with the cafeteria on the first floor.”

“I can get back on my own,” Victor insisted, but he was wavering a little on the spot, and the rest of them chose to ignore him.

Benji sighed. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll walk with him.”

They said goodbye to Dave and Becca outside of the bar and then Benji and Victor headed in the direction of Victor’s building. They’d only made it about half a block before Victor tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and nearly faceplanted. Once again Benji grabbed him just in time, and he tried pulling away after, but Victor was still looking pretty wobbly so in the end he carefully reached out and wrapped an arm around his waist to support him. Victor immediately laid his own arm across Benji’s shoulders and leaned heavily into him. He weighed more than Benji would’ve expected just looking at him and Benji was suddenly grateful for all the time he spent at the gym.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” Victor mumbled, a little bit sleepily, as they continued down the street. A cold gust of wind blew past them, but the warmth of Victor’s body pressed so tightly against his side protected him from the chill.

“That’s nice,” Benji said lightly. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I didn’t think I would. But I did. I did have a good time tonight.” Victor almost stumbled going over a curb and Benji tightened his hold a little. He tried not to notice how Victor’s body felt under his hand, the strength of the muscles that he could feel through the material of Victor’s clothing.

“Maybe us being friends wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” Victor said. “You’re actually really nice. And patient. I like how patient you always are.”

“Thanks,” Benji said awkwardly. He wished they could walk faster so he could just drop Victor off at home and finally leave, but he didn’t think Victor could move any quicker than he currently was.

“Let’s try being friends. Avoiding each other is stupid, it just makes me feel sad, and I’m tired of being sad all the time. Can we do that? Is it okay if we try to be friends?”

Benji swallowed hard. There was a good chance Victor would change his mind about this later, once he was sober, so maybe it didn’t really matter what answer Benji gave him now. “Yeah, uh. If that’s what you want, we can do that.”

After about ten minutes of walking around the dark campus they finally managed to locate Victor’s building, and although Benji had been thinking about just leaving at that point, he decided that he’d come that far so he might as well go the rest of the way. He followed Victor inside and into an elevator, reaching out to press the button for the ninth floor when Victor missed it by several inches.

“How did you manage to get this drunk off of just four beers?” Benji asked him somewhat rhetorically.

“I don’t really drink much normally. It’s something new I’m trying. Like going to parties.” Victor sighed wearily. “Not sure it’s working out so well for me, though. Even if it does keep getting me close to you.”

Their eyes caught just then and Benji couldn’t look away from the longing that was clearly visible in Victor’s gaze. He felt his own breath catch as Victor swayed a little nearer, and he was fairly certain they would’ve kissed if the elevator doors hadn’t suddenly opened an instant later.

Benji’s heart was pounding, and he felt like such an idiot. He needed to drop Victor off and get the f*ck away from him as soon as possible.

Benji helped him down the hallway to his room, knocking on the door to spare Victor the trouble of trying to locate his keys. It opened after a few seconds to reveal a very familiar looking guy with wild, light brown hair that was sticking out all over the place. Benji stared at him for moment, trying to figure out where he’d seen him before, but he couldn’t place him; he was probably just a customer from Brasstown. As Benji was considering this, the guy looked Victor up and down in surprise.

“Whoah, what happened?”

“He just had a little too much to drink tonight,” Benji explained. The guy stepped aside, so Benji walked in with Victor and then paused awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“His bed’s the one over there by the window.”

There were a pair of flags hanging up over the headboard, one Texan and one Puerto Rican, along with a bulletin board covered in notes and photos. He could make out one of a teenage Victor with a girl close to his age and a much younger boy who Benji assumed must be his siblings, along with one other photo that caught Benji’s attention. It was a selfie of Victor and a guy with fair skin and dark hair, blue-gray eyes standing out over high, slightly angular cheekbones, his face close to Victor’s. Benji dragged his gaze away from it after a moment’s pause, taking in the desk nearby and a couple of basketball posters. Even without the photos it couldn’t have been more obvious that this was Victor’s side of the room.

Benji sat Victor down on his mattress and stepped back to let Victor’s roommate take over helping him remove his jacket. As soon as it was off, Victor flopped back onto his pillow and closed his eyes, looking like he was about five seconds away from falling asleep.

“Thanks for getting him home,” the guy said, and then extended his hand. “I’m Felix.”

“Benji. I work with him at the cafe.”

Felix’s eyes went wide and it suddenly occurred to Benji that as Victor’s roommate there was a very strong likelihood that Felix had seen Victor’s name at some point. Discomfort settled heavily over him and he began to quickly back away toward the door.

“I should get going. Hope you guys have a good night.”

“Uh, yeah, you too,” Felix replied automatically, still staring at Benji with his mouth hanging open in shock.

It wasn’t until Benji was in the elevator again that he figured it out. Felix. As in, Lake’s boyfriend Felix, who he’d seen photos of on her social media occasionally since they’d started dating about a month ago. Which meant that Lake probably knew Victor as well. For a brief moment his mind reeled with panic as he wondered whether Victor might have said anything to her about Benji, but then he ran through his memories of his recent interactions with Lake and realized that there was absolutely no sign that she had known. And although Benji wasn’t entirely certain about it, he’d gotten the impression so far that Victor was no more out about being queer than Benji was.

But now Felix probably knew about him. That his name was written on Victor’s skin.

As soon as Benji got into his car, he leaned back in his seat and ran a hand roughly through his hair, deeply regretting most of the choices he’d made that evening. Why the hell had he thought that going out drinking with Victor would be a good idea? And why hadn’t he just left at some point? Everything was getting messy again, and as usual it was Benji’s fault, and he couldn’t believe how stupid he was. What if Victor still wanted to be friends, even after he sobered up? What if Felix realized that Benji and Lake knew each other and said something to her? Why couldn’t Benji have just let things go on the way they had been?

It was almost midnight, and he knew that he should just go home to bed and try to pretend that this whole evening had never happened. But in the curve of his palms he swore he could still feel the weight of Victor’s body, warm and solid, pressed so tightly against him. There was an aching, itching restlessness inside of himself that he didn’t think could be drowned out with alcohol alone.

The shame that he was rarely ever without was insisting that he go back to the bar, where he could continue drinking until he was wasted enough to attempt hooking up with a woman, just to prove a stupid point, maybe to himself or maybe to the universe. But Benji was a mess of contradictions that night, and instead he found himself scrolling through his phone for Derek’s contact a minute later and pressing the call button. It rang for a few seconds and then Derek’s voice came through, sounding annoyed.

“What’s up? I thought you said you had to cancel.”

“I know, and I’m really sorry about that, but I’m actually free now. You still want to hang out?”

There was a long pause, followed by a tired sigh, and finally Derek said, “Sure. Why not.”

“Cool, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

As he drove, Benji remembered the way Victor had looked at him for that brief moment in the elevator, so open for once, so unafraid; so unlike the way he had been every other day Benji had spent with him since that first night at Brasstown.

It was getting harder and harder to remember why Benji needed to keep his distance.

Because you’ll just end up hurting him, a voice inside Benji’s head reminded him, almost gently. Just like you always hurt everyone who gets too close to you. And because someone like you doesn’t deserve someone as good as him.

Chapter 7: Bloodline

Chapter Text

The buzzing of an alarm woke Benji up at six a. m., and he was apparently getting so used to waking up in Derek’s bed at this point that it only took him one blurry second of staring at the ceiling in confusion to realize where he was. Derek turned over with a sleepy grunt and threw his arm around Benji’s waist, trying to tug him closer, but Benji slid out from under his hold and got to his feet. He hurried to locate his briefs and pull them on as goosebumps broke out over his skin, and then he slipped out into the hallway.

He had a mild hangover from going out drinking with Dave and Victor the night before, so he headed for the kitchen with the intention of getting a pot of coffee started before he took a shower. Just as he entered the main room, he froze in surprise at the sight of Aaron, Derek’s roommate, seated at the table with his breakfast.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, lowering the mug he’d had halfway raised to his mouth, and slowly dragged his gaze over Benji.

In the past year that Benji had been sleeping with Derek, he had almost never run into Aaron, since Aaron worked at a bakery and was pretty much always asleep when Benji came over in the evening and gone in the early hours of the morning. The shock and the fact that he had only woken up a couple of minutes prior had Benji blurting out stupidly, “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Aaron said dryly, continuing to stare at everything but Benji’s face, much to his embarrassment. He deeply regretted leaving the bedroom in only his underwear. “Although lately it’s beginning to seem like you do, too, given how often I get woken up at night by the sound of you two going at it.” Aaron arched a brow, smirking a little as he said, “I am beginning to see why he puts up with your closeted ass, though.”

“Shut up, Aaron. Stop being such a dick,” Derek said as he walked up behind Benji. He’d put on pajama pants and a t-shirt, which only increased Benji’s sense of humiliation as the only one that wasn’t fully clothed. Derek continued past Benji into the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder at him, “I’ll start the coffee, go take a shower now if you want to.”

Benji was more than ready to get the f*ck out of there, so he immediately turned and rushed away to the safety of the bathroom. He had just finished brushing his teeth and gotten into the shower when he heard the door open and close, and then Derek was pushing the curtain aside.

“Scoot over,” he instructed as he stepped into the narrow space. Benji hated it when Derek did this. In some weird, inexplicable way, showering together seemed more intimate than sex, and the shame in the back of his throat already felt thick enough to choke him this morning. But he couldn’t exactly kick Derek out of his own bathroom, so Benji just made room for him and tried his best to ignore his own discomfort.

“Sorry about Aaron. He can be kind of an asshole once he decides he doesn’t like someone.”

“It’s fine,” Benji muttered.

He had only met Aaron on a handful of occasions, but it had always been pretty obvious that he couldn’t stand Benji. Like Derek, he was out and proud and aggressively political about it, and he didn’t approve of Derek being with someone who wasn’t the same, no matter how casual things were between them.

Benji was reaching for the soap, ready to get out of there as fast as he could, when Derek pressed up close behind him, his chest flush against Benji’s back. He began kissing Benji’s neck just below his ear as he trailed a hand slowly down Benji’s abdomen. The embrace, and the tight confines of the shower, and the embarrassment from his run in with Aaron all added up to a sudden and overwhelming sense of claustrophobia which made Benji jerk violently away from him. His movement was so unexpected that Derek nearly lost his balance and had to throw a hand out to catch himself on the wall.

“Jesus, Benji,” Derek swore. “What the hell was that?”

Benji’s breathing was growing short and rapid, and he had to press himself into the corner and close his eyes for a moment in order to calm down. Derek tried to reach a hand out to touch him, but Benji instinctively flinched away from him.

“f*ck. This is getting so f*cking old,” Derek snapped. “I don’t know if I can deal with this anymore.”

With angry, jerky motions, Derek scrubbed himself down with the bar of soap and then rushed to get out of the shower as soon as he’d rinsed off. He barely bothered to dry himself at all before wrapping a towel around his waist and exiting the bathroom with a loud thud of the door.

Just breathe, Benji told himself, but the steam and his empty, queasy stomach were making him light-headed, and it took a while to regain his sense of equilibrium enough to finish washing himself. By the time he made it back to Derek’s room, Derek was fully dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed with his arms crossed, a look on his face that was making Benji’s sense of panic return in full-force.

“Do I actually mean anything to you?” Derek asked quietly.

Benji stared back at him, the question so abrupt that he had no idea what to say in response.

Derek’s expression darkened with hurt and resignation. “We used to be friends, at least, before this whole thing started. But now it seems like all we do is f*ck. We don’t hang out like we used to, and you don’t talk to me about anything anymore, except for stuff related to the band. I just kept thinking that maybe at some point things would change and you’d start to care about me, too, but… But it’s never going to happen, is it?”

“Derek-”

“No, you know what, it’s fine. You never made any promises to me. And I’d bet a million f*cking dollars that it’s not my name you have hidden underneath that thing,” he said, with a pointed look at Benji’s tattoo. He shook his head bitterly. “I hope for the sake of whoever it is that you get your sh*t together before you find him. But I, for one, am done with this.”

“So, what- what is this? A break up?” Benji asked him, feeling like a complete idiot standing there in just a towel, his hair dripping wet, and Derek staring at him with that pained, judgmental look on his face.

“It’s not a break up. A break up would imply that you ever actually gave a sh*t about me. This is just me saying I’m done. No more sex, no more drunken hook ups after gigs… Let’s just go back to being band mates and nothing else.”

The only thing Benji could say to that was a guilty, “Okay,” of agreement. He knew that Derek wasn’t in love with him and it certainly wasn’t Benji’s name written on the back of Derek’s leg, but he’d also suspected for awhile that Derek might want more from him than Benji was capable of giving. The past few months, there had been something there, in the way that Derek looked at him sometimes, in the way his touches had lingered. Benji should have been the one to end things himself as soon as he’d noticed it, but Derek had been convenient. He’d been comfortable, despite the inevitable shame that followed their encounters. He was the one person that Benji could let his guard down with, even if only a little. And now that was over.

Benji put on his clothes quietly and quickly, while Derek stayed just as he was, sitting on the end of the bed, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him.

Before Benji left, he paused at the door to say, “For what it’s worth, I do think of you as a friend, Derek. And I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

Derek’s eyes met his for a moment, a well of sadness in them, but he had nothing to say in return.

During his break at work later that day, Benji sat in the locker room and thought about what had happened the night before. Running into Felix like that had been so jarring, and even though Benji was fairly confident that Felix hadn’t outed him to Lake yet, the possibility still existed, and he needed to do something about it. He’d been drinking steadily all morning, slipping away to the back whenever he could for yet another attempt at washing away the memory of his conversation with Derek. The fog in his brain was making it hard to think as clearly as he needed to and it was heightening his feeling of urgency as well.

He pulled out his phone and opened Instagram. It took less than a minute to get to Felix’s profile via Lake’s, which fortunately turned out to be public since Felix seemed to be into posting pictures and videos of his odd DIY projects. Benji typed out a quick message asking Felix if he was free later, and after about five minutes got a response suggesting they meet at one of the cafes on the Creekwood campus.

When Benji walked up to the coffee shop they’d agreed on at about three o’clock, Felix was already waiting there for him.

“Hey, you wanna go inside? Or we can talk out here since the weather’s nice today,” Felix said. The fewer people around to overhear them the better, in Benji’s opinion, so he led them over to a bench nearby.

“Thanks for coming,” Benji said, a little awkwardly, not really sure how to get the conversation started.

“Oh, sure, no worries. It was nice of you to help Victor out last night.”

“How was he doing this morning?”

Felix let out a small laugh. “Pretty sure he’s been better. This was one of the only days I’ve ever seen him sleep past eight in the morning.”

“I, uh… I realized after we met last night that I kind of already know you. Or I’ve heard about you anyway. I’m friends with Lake.”

Felix didn’t seem very surprised by this news. “I had a feeling you might be the same Benji. I mean, it’s not a name you hear all that often, so…”

Benji hesitated, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say next and struggling a little due to the amount of whiskey running through his system.

“Look, I think I know what this is about,” Felix said, frowning in concern at Benji’s silence. “And you don’t need to worry because I would never say anything to out you to anyone, including Lake. She’s your friend and it should be up to you to decide what you want to share with her.”

Relief washed over Benji. He was so grateful, both for the fact that Felix would keep his secret and also for not having to say it out loud.

“Thank you.” His next question filled him with anxiety, but he had to know the answer, so he drew in a breath and asked, “Does anyone else know? About Victor’s name?”

“I’m fairly sure it’s just me and his sister, Pilar. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Victor works pretty hard to keep his name hidden most of the time. That’s why he’s always wearing collared shirts and hoodies and stuff like that.”

Benji hadn’t noticed that, but that was probably because he rarely ever saw Victor outside of work, where fortunately Victor’s apron strap usually covered most of his name aside from the ‘B’. Just then he remembered seeing Andrew at the bar the night before and felt a sudden surge of fear. “What about his teammates? I mean, they must have seen it by now, right?”

Felix shook his head. “I don’t think so. Victor always masks at basketball games and practice. Some of the other guys do, too, just for privacy reasons since the games are televised.”

Benji let out a long breath, shoulders sagging as he absorbed that information. No one else knew. At least for now, anyway. Name masks were notoriously unreliable, the thin strips of adhesive famous for falling off at inopportune moments, but it was something. It meant that Victor was trying to be careful, and that was going to have to be good enough.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said.

“Of course.” Felix paused, looking a little bit nervous. “But, uh… can I just say something? This whole thing with you and Victor is none of my business, I get that, but as his friend I’ve been really worried about him lately. These past few weeks, ever since he found out about you, he hasn’t been himself. He’s just so depressed all the time, and he doesn’t go out much anymore, and I’m pretty sure the only people he ever opens up to are me and Pilar.”

Benji stared down at his hands without speaking, feeling like he might throw up. The alcohol in his otherwise empty stomach was churning nauseatingly, and all he could hear inside his head was Victor’s voice saying, “…it’s just me.”

He had hurt Victor, and he’d hurt Derek, and he was constantly hurting and disappointing his family as well. It seemed like inflicting pain was all he ever did.

Felix let out a sigh and continued, saying, “Look, it’s not your fault that you’re nameless. Maybe you can never feel the same way about Victor that he does about you. But, uh… Victor told me about what happened at the house party. I mean, not in a lot of detail or anything, but my point is that I know you like guys, too, and people have long-term, fulfilling relationships with partners who aren’t their soulmates all the time. So maybe you could consider giving him a chance? And if you can’t do that, then it might be better if you keep your distance, at least until Victor has had some time to get over you.”

Victor moving on and forgetting about Benji would undoubtedly be the best thing for him, and yet the thought of it, of Victor with someone else, caused his heart to ache so fiercely it nearly made him gasp out loud.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and say evenly, “I’ll think about what you said. And thank you, again, for promising not to tell anyone. I appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Felix gave him a small smile. “You know, you seem like a decent guy, Benji. I think you and Victor could probably make each other really happy.”

“Maybe,” Benji answered, even as the voice inside his mind reminded him, You don’t deserve that. And even if you did, this isn’t who you’re supposed to be. It isn’t what he would have wanted for you.

On Wednesday, a little under a week later, Benji returned home again.

“Hey little brother, how’s it going?” Benji said as he closed the front door behind himself. He removed his slightly damp leather jacket and hung it up on the coat rack before turning to pull Asa into a hug. “Happy Hanukkah.”

“I’m honestly a little bit amazed to actually see you here. I can’t believe both you and Mom are taking time off on the same day. This is a legit Hanukkah miracle happening right now.”

“And people say I’m the melodramatic one in this family,” Benji said dryly, already headed toward the kitchen. Asa followed behind him, taking a seat at the counter and watching as Benji opened the fridge.

“That’s because you are the melodramatic one in this family.”

“She doesn’t have any wine in here for the holiday?” Benji asked in disappointment as he scanned the shelves and ignored his brother’s jibe. There was some beer at least, so he grabbed a bottle and went digging around a drawer nearby for the opener.

“Apparently most wines aren’t kosher, so that’s why she bought the Sam Adams yesterday.”

Benji paused before taking a sip to look at his brother in disbelief. “Since when has Mom ever worried about that?”

“Since the last few months,” Asa answered. “She’s kinda getting into the whole religion thing these days. I’m not really sure where it’s coming from. Maybe she’s just looking for something she can occupy her time with once she becomes an empty-nester.”

“Huh.”

Benji tipped back the bottle, and immediately began to feel some of the tension leave him as he swallowed the mouthful of beer. It felt like it grew a little thicker with each holiday that brought them closer to the anniversary of Paul’s death in February, and Benji was already beginning to dread coming home for Christmas in about a week. He’d promised to stay for at least a couple of days and this time he even remembered to put in the request at work so there was no getting out of it now.

“Are you actually going to stay the night tonight?” Asa asked him.

“I don’t think so. I haven’t had much time for the gym lately and I was hoping to go tomorrow morning before work.”

Benji grabbed a bag of pretzels out of the pantry and came to sit at the counter beside Asa, who immediately took a handful of them for himself.

“How come you never stay over anymore? Do you have a secret girlfriend you haven’t told us about?”

“It wouldn’t really be a secret girlfriend if I told you, would it?”

Asa shot him an unamused look, so Benji rolled his eyes and said, “No, there’s no secret girlfriend. I swear. Just a cafe and a band and private lessons keeping me super busy.”

Asa regarded him thoughtfully for a little while before asking, “But you’d tell us if there was one, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Benji replied with a smile he didn’t feel. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno. You’ve always just been so private about stuff like that. Well, about practically everything really.” He hesitated for a second, his eyes darting nervously around the room without ever landing on Benji. “I mean, I’m your brother, and I’ve never seen your name. I don’t even know what it is.”

Benji’s heart was thudding so hard it almost hurt. He raised his beer to his lips a little shakily, drinking in lieu of responding since he had no idea what to say to that. He couldn’t even remember the last time Asa had tried to talk to him about his name; it must have been years and years ago, when they were kids.

“Benji, can I ask you something?”

f*ck, Benji thought, no, please don’t. Please don’t ask me.

But he couldn’t seem to make himself say anything – his throat was tight and constricted, as though gripped by an invisible hand – and so Asa took his silence as permission and said, “Are you nameless? Is that why we never talk about it?”

It had been weeks since he had told that very lie to Victor and every single day Benji had to live with the guilt of it hanging like a chain around his neck. He didn’t want to have to lie to his brother, too. Not about this, not when he was already caught up in so many f*cking lies already.

Benji opened his mouth, prepared to admit some small amount of the truth, but all that came out was the word “No,” before he was saved by the sound of the front door opening.

“Where is that handsome son of mine?” Ruth called out from the other room, so Benji rose quickly, grateful for the excuse to leave, and went to hug his mom. Just before he walked away, he caught a glimpse of Asa’s face shuttering in disappointment.

“You obviously must be referring to me,” Benji joked, putting on a bright smile and doing his best to look like everything was fine.

“Home again in less than a month. I can hardly believe my eyes.” She held up a paper bag with the logo on it for a Jewish deli in the neighborhood. “Just barely managed to pick us up some sufganiyot, they had almost run out by the time I got there. Asa, did you remember to make some coffee like I asked? I am not getting through this evening without the help of copious amounts of caffeine.”

“Well, I’m no professional barista like your other, apparently more handsome son, but I did in fact brew you a pot,” Asa answered as Benji and Ruth entered the kitchen. Ruth made a beeline for the cupboard where the mugs were kept and went about pouring herself a cup. Asa was munching on pretzels with a completely casual look about him, and if Benji hadn’t been there for the tense conversation they’d had just a few minutes prior, he never would have guessed that it had happened. It worried him a little that maybe his brother might be just as skilled at hiding as Benji himself was.

“Ugh, I had to work a night shift because Amanda called in sick at the last minute yesterday,” Ruth complained, leaning against the counter and putting back her coffee at an impressive pace. “And then I ended up with an infant in one room who did not stop crying for more than five seconds at a time, and a kid on a vent in the other who was persistently desatting most of the night. I’m warning you boys now, there’s a good chance I’ll be hitting the hay before ten o’clock tonight.”

“Just make sure you don’t fall asleep frying the latkes and melt your face off,” Asa cautioned her.

Ruth raised her brows at him. “You think I’m gonna be the one frying anything today? No way, you two fully grown young men are perfectly capable of doing your own cooking while your tired old mother relaxes on the sofa with some coffee and donuts. Speaking of which, I think it’s about time I get started on that.”

She took the bag and her mug and left for the living room, and suddenly the atmosphere in the kitchen didn’t feel quite so comfortable anymore. Benji could feel his brother’s gaze on him, but he ignored it and took a long sip of his beer, draining the last of the bottle, and then grabbed an onion and a bag of potatoes from the pantry.

“Do you remember how to make these?” he asked Asa. “It’s been a few years since I tried to do it.”

Asa looked up a recipe and the two of them got to work. The conversation was a little bit stilted, but fortunately Asa didn’t try to bring up anything related to what they’d been talking about before Ruth had arrived. Even so, the discomfort had Benji returning to the fridge for a second beer, and then when that didn’t feel like enough, slipping away to the bathroom for several long pulls from his flask.

He’d been drinking earlier in the day as well, so by the time they were halfway through frying the potato pancakes Benji was on his third beer and already beginning to feel blessedly hazy. Asa was eyeing the bottle in Benji’s hand like he wanted to say something about it, but to Benji’s relief he kept quiet, at least until Benji went to add some additional oil to the pan and accidentally dumped far too much in.

“Jeez, Benji, watch it. Maybe you’re going through that beer a bit fast.”

“I’m fine, it just came out quicker than I was expecting.”

The fresh oil heated up rapidly while Benji looked around for something he could dump it out in, and by the time he’d pulled an empty soup can out of the recycling it was already beginning to hiss and spit. Benji held the frying pan in his left hand and tilted it to pour the excess oil out, but as he was doing so his vision blurred slightly and he missed his mark.

“f*ck,” Benji gasped, as searing pain lanced through him. He dropped the pan onto the stove with a clatter, more hot oil spattering in all directions and stinging his bare arms. A deep red welt was rising up on the back of Benji’s right hand that looked like it would blister soon.

The alcohol was filtering out the worst of the pain, but even so it hurt a lot, and the shock of the sudden burn had Benji standing there stupidly just staring at the injury without doing anything.

“You need to put it under some cold water,” Asa said, snapping Benji out of the trance he’d fallen into. He was frowning at Benji in concern, so Benji hurried over to do as he’d suggested. The cool water had a numbing effect that helped to soothe the sting, and there was something mesmerizing about the cascade of bright liquid running over the angry red skin. Benji felt like he could just stand there watching it for hours.

“What happened?” Ruth asked as she entered the room. Her eyes widened at sight of the injury. “How on earth did you manage to burn yourself so badly?”

Asa explained what had happened while she sat Benji down at the dining room table and treated the burn using the first aid kit she kept in the bathroom. “Make sure you keep that clean so it doesn’t get infected,” she instructed after she’d finished. “I’ll send you home with some stuff for it later.”

“Sure thing,” Benji said lightly. His hand was throbbing, and he wanted her to go back to her movie so that he could slip away and dull the ache with a little more JD. “Nothing like having an ICU nurse on hand at times like these. Really cuts down on the ER bills,” he joked, just to prove to everyone that he was fine.

Ruth shook her head at that and finally did go back to the living room. After a trip to the bathroom and another couple of shots of liquor, Benji returned to the kitchen and went to pull a new beer from the fridge. Asa was standing at the stove, finishing up the last of the latkes, and he turned to look at Benji over his shoulder in surprise.

“Don’t you think you should slow down a little?” he asked. “I mean, considering what just happened?”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine, my hand just slipped a little earlier. The handle of the pan was kind of greasy.”

“Yeah, or maybe you’ve only been here an hour and you’re already halfway through the six pack Mom bought. This is Hanukkah, not a frat party.”

Benji rolled his eyes at that and popped the cap off the bottle he was holding, ignoring the look that Asa sent him in response. “I’m a big boy, thanks. I think I know my own limits. Anyway, this stuff is only five percent, it’s not even all that strong.”

“Fine, whatever,” Asa said dismissively. “Just do what you want then.”

By the time they were all sitting down at the table to eat a short while later, Benji was feeling comfortably numb, the pulsing blister on the back of his hand more of a vague annoyance than anything else. Asa was quiet and moody throughout the meal, so it was mostly Benji and Ruth making conversation about work and how the band had been doing recently.

As they were finishing up, Ruth cleared her throat and looked between the two of them somewhat nervously. “There’s, uh, there’s something I’d like to speak with you both about while I have you here,” she began.

“Please don’t tell us we’re getting a little brother or sister,” Benji said teasingly, the buzz of the alcohol and the dark looks his brother had been sending him all evening still making him work a little too hard to be cheerful. Benji sipped his fifth beer and said, “I’m good with just one sibling, thanks.”

Asa pursed his lips, clearly still too annoyed with Benji to find him funny, and Ruth rolled her eyes.

“No, I’m definitely a little too old for anything like that,” she said. “It is good news, though. The thing is, I, uh – I met someone recently. His name’s Dan. We’ve been seeing each other since October, actually, but I wanted to wait until things were a little more serious before I told you guys about him.”

Asa’s mouth dropped open slightly in shock, and Benji felt equally blown away by the announcement. Ever since they had lost Paul, it seemed like Ruth’s entire life revolved around just two things: her work and her family. And most of the time it seemed like they came in that order of importance, as well, even though maybe that wasn’t very fair of Benji to think. He knew it hadn’t been easy for Ruth as a single mother and a widow to try to support her family while also dealing with the considerable medical debt and funeral costs left behind in the wake of Paul’s death. She’d had no choice but to work as tirelessly as she had in order for them to survive, and even now things continued to be a struggle at times. It was the reason Benji brought little envelopes of cash with him every time he came to visit.

But even though things had been hard, and they weren’t close the way other families were, they still took care of each other. They relied on one another. For years it had just been the three of them, an insular unit, and no one else.

The news that there was now something – someone – new being added to the mix was difficult to process, and the floating, slippery quality of Benji’s thoughts at the moment wasn’t making that any easier.

“So, you – you have a boyfriend? Is that what you’re telling us?” Benji asked.

“I mean, yes, I guess so,” Ruth answered. “Although that term sounds a little juvenile for two people who are in their fifties… It might be better to refer to Dan as my partner. Anyway, it’s still fairly new, but we care about each other a lot, and it’s getting to a point now where you two should know about him. In fact, I think you should meet him. Since we’ll all be getting together next week for Christmas anyway, I was hoping to invite Dan over for dinner with us if you two are all right with that.”

Benji’s eyes met his brother’s, and he could see the same confusion there that he himself felt. He didn’t know if he was all right with it or not. He had no idea what he was feeling at the moment.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he ended up saying, to fill the quiet more than anything. Or maybe because it was what his mother was hoping to hear. “That’s fine.”

“Asa? What do you think, honey?”

Asa shrugged, and then suddenly to the surprise of all of them, Asa’s eyes began to grow wet. “Yeah,” he said roughly, echoing what he’d told Benji earlier, “just do what you want.”

He rose abruptly from his seat and marched off down the hallway to his room. The thud of his door closing a moment later made Ruth jump.

“I – I think I should go try and speak with him,” she said, getting up as well. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Benji locked himself away in the bathroom again while they were gone, reaching automatically for the flask tucked away in his pocket. He sat on the edge of the bathtub and drank steadily until he heard the sound of a door opening and footsteps in the hall. Everything was beginning to feel soft and smooth around the edges again, that gentle weightlessness carrying him away from everything that hurt.

Asa was still in his room when Benji emerged, so he went out to the kitchen to help his mom clean up. He started washing the dishes, forgetting about the burn on his hand, and Ruth rushed over to reprimand him for getting the bandage wet. She replaced it with a dry one and then told him to put the food away and leave the washing up to her.

Just after sunset Asa came out long enough to join them in lighting the candles. Ruth had placed the menorah in the front window near the door like she always did, and the flickering of the flames against the growing darkness outside blurred in and out of focus as Benji stood there watching the slow movement of his mother’s hand. One by one eight lights sparked into being. There was a fluidity to the way they moved that made them look like something trapped underwater, like they might be cool and soft to the touch.

He had the strangest urge to put his hand into the fire, just to see what it would feel like.

That night, Benji and Ruth sat side by side on the sofa watching some travel show while Benji began to gradually sober up. Being in this house and not being intoxicated was difficult to endure, but Benji wanted to go back to his own place soon, and he needed to be a little bit steadier before he attempted to get behind a wheel. He was messing around on his phone as a distraction, reading some article a friend had posted on Facebook, when Ruth startled him out of his thoughts.

“Are you okay? With what I told you earlier?”

Benji glanced over at her and said automatically, “Of course.”

“Really? Because you’ve been awfully quiet ever since dinner.”

The truth was he’d been awfully drunk ever since dinner, but he was pretty good at hiding that from people by this point. And even if Asa and Ruth had noticed any signs of inebriation, it was a holiday and that usually meant a free pass to drink more than usual.

“Sorry, I think I’m just a little tired tonight. It was a busy week for me,” he said, deliberately trying not to think about all that had happened with Victor and Derek on top of what Ruth had told them. The idea of some strange man he’d never met before coming into their home for Christmas dinner was unsettling, but Benji shoved the feeling aside and gave her a reassuring smile. “I think it’ll be nice to meet this guy. I’m really looking forward to it.”

Ruth’s eyes searched his for a moment and he worried that maybe she didn’t believe him. But in the end she just smiled as well and reached out to squeeze his good hand. “Thanks, B. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

They were quiet again for a while, watching as the people on TV explored a night market in Bangkok or wherever it was they were, and Benji was getting ready to say goodnight when Ruth surprised him by speaking again.

“Benji? If there’s ever anyone you want to bring home, you know you’re welcome to, right? I’d really love to meet them.” She drew in a breath and said softly, “It doesn’t have to be just the three of us against the rest of the world forever. We all deserve a little happiness.”

For a second Benji almost didn’t catch it, his mind still a little fuzzy, but then he realized what she’d just said. “I’d really love to meet them.” Not her. Them. A gender neutral them.

His limbs felt as though they’d been cast out of metal, weighing him down and pinning him to the couch cushions. He couldn’t move. He just sat there and stared blankly at the foreign foods being showcased on the TV without registering anything he was seeing.

A few seconds passed by like an eternity before he finally found the ability to speak again.

“Thanks,” he said tonelessly. “I, uh… I should probably head out now since it’s getting late. Would you say goodbye to Asa for me? And I’m really looking forward to meeting Dan soon.”

Free of his paralysis at last, he got up from the couch quickly and headed for the door. He moved a little faster than he should have, the room swaying slightly under his feet, but he kept his balance and a moment later he was pulling on his jacket and shoes.

Ruth seemed startled by his sudden rush to leave. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive home? Why don’t you just stay here tonight?”

“I’m good, I finished that last beer hours ago and I was really hoping to hit the gym in the morning. But I’ll be here next week, okay?” He gave her a quick hug and pulled the door open. “Love you, Mom. Goodnight.”

And then there was just darkness and quiet and the inside of the car. His hands on the wheel. The steady rhythm of his breathing. Everything was still a little softer, a little more fluid than it should have been. A red light took him by surprise, but he managed to hit the brakes on time.

When he pulled into a parking space in front of his building twenty minutes later, his entire body sagged with relief. He reached into his pocket with a shaking hand, opened the flask and drank the remaining few shots just to calm the thrumming anxiety that was coursing through him like an electrical current.

That night he dreamed of his father.

Chapter 8: Portraits in Life and Death

Chapter Text

For Benji’s eleventh birthday, his dad had taken him on a camping trip to the Smoky Mountains, along with Asa and Benji’s best friend, Ryan. Ruth hadn’t been able to get the time off of work and wasn’t a huge fan of the outdoors anyway, so Paul had joked that it would be a weekend just for the boys, no girls allowed.

They stayed in a couple of tents, one for Paul and Asa, one just for Benji and Ryan, in a campground right on the edge of a lake. Paul taught them how to fish and took them out in canoes during the day, the sun beating down on them and reflecting brightly off the surface of the water as they dipped their paddles in, leaving trails of rippling waves behind. In the evenings they sat around the campfire, roasting marshmallows and listening to Paul’s stories. Benji’s dad had been an expert story-teller. He had a way of effortlessly pulling people in, holding their attention like it was something he could just reach out and grasp with his hands. He told them all kinds of stories on that trip: the usual mildly scary camping tales about ghosts and bear attacks, and the genuinely scary ones about his work as an EMT (in retrospect Benji knew that Paul had been watering them down so they’d be more kid-friendly, but perhaps his dad hadn’t realized that some of them were still a little inappropriate for children). But Benji’s favorites had been Paul’s stories about growing up in the countryside with his brothers and the crazy stuff they’d gotten up to as kids which Ruth probably wouldn’t have been happy about him sharing with three impressionable boys. He’d had to preface those ones with a warning of “Now, if I ever catch one of you doing this there’ll be hell to pay, but one time your uncle Rick and I…”

Paul had been good about keeping Asa occupied whenever Benji and Ryan wanted to run off somewhere on their own. Eleven had been an age when Benji had been doing that more and more, never mean to Asa the way some older siblings were to the younger ones but still a little annoyed when he tried to tag along with them all the same. Surrounding the lake were thick woods full of all kinds of interesting things for two boys to discover, and Benji and Ryan had spent a lot of time exploring by themselves. All that time with Ryan, just the two of them running around in the shade of the tall trees, had felt like the best birthday present of all.

Ryan was fair skinned with green eyes and a constellation of freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, his hair a shade of brown so light it was almost blonde. He and Benji had been best friends since third grade, when they’d ended up in the same class together and had bonded over swapping food at lunch. Ryan was a little bigger and bolder than Benji, a little more confident, always full of exciting ideas about how they should spend their time during recess or on the afternoons they hung out together after school. Benji had followed him around like he’d thought that Ryan had hung the moon; he would have done anything for him.

On the last night of the camping trip, after another round of s’mores and stories by the fire, Benji and Ryan had lain in their sleeping bags for a long time talking quietly. Benji couldn’t remember anymore what their conversation had been about to begin with, but at some point it had come around to the topic of names. It seemed like that was all anyone their age ever wanted to talk about. Who had gotten their name yet and who hadn’t, where it had turned up, whether it was a funny sounding name or a person that they already knew. Their friend Cooper had gotten his just a month earlier, the dark letters spelling out Ashley some-thing-or-other gradually growing legible near his ankle. Benji hadn’t understood why at the time but the sight of that name on his friend’s skin had made him nervous. The whole topic in general had made him nervous.

“Where do you think yours will show up?” Ryan had asked him that night. Without waiting for Benji’s response he’d continued, saying, “I hope mine will be somewhere cool like my dad’s. His is on his arm, like, in a circle over his shoulder. Or I guess on my back or my chest or something would be okay. Just as long as it’s not somewhere embarrassing. I heard that there was this one guy who got his name right in the middle of his forehead. Can you imagine having it there? Ugh, that would be so horrible.”

Benji had laughed at the mental image, and then cautiously admitted, “I don’t really care. I don’t even want mine to show up yet, anyway.”

“What?” Ryan had rolled onto his side then to stare at Benji in disbelief. “Why not?”

“I dunno. I just don’t. Why are you so excited about it? Is there some girl you want it to be?”

Ryan scoffed. “No. I guess I just wanna know what it is. And where it’ll be. That’s all. Besides, you’re the one with the girlfriend.”

Benji had shot him a glare. “Emma’s not my girlfriend. I’ve told you that, like, a million times. I don’t like her like that. We’re just friends.”

“If you say so,” Ryan had said in a sing-song voice that implied he didn’t believe Benji at all. Benji huffed out a sigh of frustration as Ryan grinned and started in on the usual teasing. “You like her, you wanna kiss her, you wanna marry-”

Maybe because he was so tired of hearing those taunts, or maybe because he just wanted Ryan to shut up, Benji had suddenly leaned forward and done something that took both of them completely by surprise: he pressed his lips against Ryan’s, firmly and a little awkwardly, for about three seconds.

When Benji pulled back they had both stared at each other with wide eyes, Benji in just as much shock as Ryan was.

“What was that for? Why did you do that?” Ryan asked, recovering first.

Benji had been suddenly overcome with fear. He didn’t know. He had no idea why he would do something like that, or what it meant, or why he really, really wanted to try it again. All he did understand in that moment was that it wasn’t what he was supposed to do. It wasn’t okay. The way Ryan was looking at him made that abundantly clear.

“I, I just-” Benji stammered helplessly, and then finally he snapped, “Just shut up about Emma already, okay? It’s not like that.”

“Fine,” Ryan muttered. He looked upset and confused and Benji was terrified of what Ryan might say next. But his friend had just rolled over, his back turned to Benji, and hadn’t said anything else to him. Benji had turned off the electric lantern with a shaky hand and had then spent a seemingly endless period of time staring up through the almost pitch black toward the barely visible nylon roof of the tent, trying to understand what had happened and why he was so afraid.

It was that night that he realized something monumental. All his life, whenever Benji had imagined a name appearing on his own skin one day, in his mind it had always been a boy’s name. Not a girl’s. How had it never occurred to him before that there was something strange about that? That it wasn’t normal?

When they got back to Atlanta in the late afternoon the next day, they dropped Ryan off at his house first. Asa was asleep in the backseat of the car, Benji quietly sitting up front next to his father. Ryan didn’t say goodbye as he hopped out, backpack slung over one shoulder and his arms wrapped around his sleeping bag. Benji watched in the side mirror as Ryan ran over the lawn, up the steps to his front door, and quickly disappeared inside.

“You okay, buddy?” Paul had asked him as they headed toward home. “You’ve been really quiet today. Did you and Ryan have a fight?”

Benji shook his head. “No. I’m just tired. I had a nightmare last night.”

He’d already been getting so good at lying.

“Oh, that’s too bad. You wanna tell me about it?”

“No.” They had sat in silence for several minutes before Benji had tentatively asked, “Dad? Do people ever get the wrong name?”

Paul had frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I dunno, a person who’s uh… dead or, like, a boy getting a boy’s name, or something…”

“Ah.” Paul had paused for a moment, thinking about how to answer. “Well, I don’t think names can ever be wrong, exactly, but stuff like that does happen sometimes. Your Aunt Cassie found out that her soulmate passed away when he was a child. That was really hard for her, but then she met your Uncle Ray and they’ve been married for a long time now. People like that can still have a good life, even without their soulmate. But I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Benji, that kind of thing is pretty rare.”

Benji swallowed nervously, his heart in his throat as he asked, “What about the, uh… the other thing?”

Paul’s hands had tightened on the steering wheel, his mouth a thin line. It took him a while to respond but eventually he said, “Well, that’s not very common, either. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

In the quiet that followed, all Benji could think about were Ryan’s eyes staring at him in confusion and anger the night before. Benji had always had a sense, deep down, that there was something that made him different from other boys, even though he’d never understood why until then. And from that day forward, Benji had lived with the constant shadow of his name hanging over his head, an inescapable threat looming darkly on the horizon. He had tried with all his might to outrun it, to hide it, working harder than ever to be the son he believed Paul wanted him to be. The effort was exhausting, but the alternative – disappointing everyone he loved – was unthinkable.

The day after his visit home, Benji had a closing shift with Victor. Ever since they had gone out for drinks together the week before, Victor had become a little bit friendlier with each day that passed. He would chat with Benji whenever things were slow at the cafe, and sometimes he’d put on one of his own playlists while they were going through the closing routine, and they would end up talking about the bands they liked. Benji was trying hard not to enjoy those moments too much or to seek them out too often, but he couldn’t quite help himself. The more he got to know Victor, the more he liked him, and if Benji allowed himself to think about that too much it was going to ruin everything.

A little while after Dave had arrived, Benji was washing his hands at the sink behind the counter when the adhesive keeping the hydrogel bandage on began to peel away. He sighed in annoyance, ripping it off the rest of the way and throwing it into the trash before grabbing a paper towel to dry his hands with. He’d woken up hungover and had been suffering from a headache all day, made worse by the fact that he’d been too nauseous to eat much. The steady pounding in his skull was making his movements jerky and he must have been a little too rough with the towel because a moment later the brown paper was stained darkly with blood.

“Hey, Benji, do you know where – holy crap, are you okay?”

Victor rushed over to his side, staring in shock at his injury for just a second before quickly grabbing a wad of clean paper towels and pressing them against it.

“What happened?” Dave asked them, glancing over his shoulder from where he was working at the espresso machine nearby.

“Nothing, the bandage just came off when I was washing my hands, and then it started bleeding,” Benji explained. “It’s fine, I can take care of it.”

“It can’t be easy to put a new bandage on one-handed,” Victor pointed out. “Let me help you.”

Before Benji could try and protest again, Victor took hold of Benji’s wrist and began pulling him toward the locker room where the first aid kit was stored. He called back to Dave, “Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes? We’ll be right back.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Benji said as Victor directed him into a chair and then went to look for the supplies. A moment later he sat beside Benji and opened the box up on the small table to his right.

“It’s okay, I’m actually pretty good at stuff like this,” Victor told him as he dug around in the first aid kit for what he needed. “My little brother is kind of accident-prone. How’d you hurt yourself, anyway?”

“Remember those potato pancakes I told you about? I accidentally spilled some hot oil when I was making them yesterday.”

“Ouch.” Victor winced sympathetically. “This burn looks pretty nasty. Do you think you should see a doctor about it?”

“My mom’s a nurse and she already looked at it for me. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Victor started gently cleaning the area around the wound, avoiding the part where the blister had cracked and begun to bleed, and then pressed some gauze against it. Despite the ache, Benji’s heart began to race the longer Victor’s fingers moved softly over the skin of his hand. Victor kept his head slightly bowed as he worked, and the angle made the dim lighting in the room extend the shadow cast by the curve of his lashes over his cheekbones. His teeth slipped out to graze his lower lip while he concentrated on wrapping some medical tape around the gauze to keep it in place. It felt impossible just then to look away from the perfect lines of his mouth, especially when Benji could still remember exactly what that mouth had felt like pressed against his skin.

Victor looked up as he finished, and Benji was just a fraction of a second too late dragging his eyes away from Victor’s lips. Heat was pooling rapidly inside of him, a heat that he could now see mirrored in Victor’s gaze.

There was the sound of rapid footsteps and then they both jumped a little as Dave’s voice called out, “Guys, I’m getting swamped out here. You almost done?”

Benji felt like he’d just been snapped out of a trance. He rushed to stand up and put some distance between himself and Victor, who was hurrying to tidy up the first aid kit with his back turned to both of them.

“Everything okay?” Dave asked, giving them an odd look.

“Yeah, fine,” Benji said as evenly as possible. “Let’s go.”

The rest of the shift passed by in a rush and Benji was thankful for the distraction. For a while Victor was unusually quiet, but gradually he and Dave fell into their normal routine of chatting as they worked. Dave continued to look thoughtfully in Benji’s direction off and on, so it was a relief when he finally left for the night.

The last customers took their time leaving, which meant that Benji wasn’t able to lock the doors until nine forty-five. As they were behind on their tasks as a result, and Benji had been in a strange state of mind ever since Victor had treated his hand, he went about his work quickly and without talking to Victor like he usually did. After a few minutes of working in silence, Victor paused to put on a playlist, something much quieter than what he generally chose.

Benji had just finished closing down the register when Victor suddenly asked him, “Did you have a good time with your family?”

“Sorry?” Benji said, surprised out of his thoughts.

“I asked if you had fun with your family. You guys celebrated Hanukkah yesterday, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We had a nice time.” Victor seemed to be waiting for him to continue, so Benji said, “We didn’t do much really. Just ate and watched TV.”

“That’s cool. Sounds relaxing,” Victor said a little awkwardly.

They finished closing to the sound of Victor’s music, Victor seeming to realize that Benji wasn’t really in the mood for talking that evening. It felt like there was so much weighing him down at the moment – going back home again soon, his mother’s news and what she had implied about him, Asa’s question about his name, the whole messy situation with Victor, the sort of break up with Derek, and basically everything else in Benji’s disaster of a life – and all he wanted to do was get quietly f*cked up in his apartment where he wouldn’t have to see anyone or think about anything.

As they were putting on their coats in the locker room a short while later, Benji turned around and was surprised to find Victor walking toward him with a gift-wrapped box in his hands. He held it out to Benji, their gazes meeting for a moment before Victor glanced away shyly.

“What’s this?” Benji asked as he took the box. It was about a foot long and narrow, tied with a shiny blue ribbon, and fairly lightweight.

“It’s nothing much,” Victor mumbled. “I got some small presents for a few of the people here at Brasstown that I’ve gotten to know, and since you don’t celebrate Christmas, I thought I’d give you yours now. Sorry if that’s weird…”

It was such an unexpected gesture that instead of saying ‘thank you’ like a normal person, Benji found himself blurting out, “I do, actually. Celebrate Christmas. My dad wasn’t Jewish, so we celebrate both holidays.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you can consider it an early Christmas present then.”

Benji stared down at the gift in his hands. The silver paper was a little bit wrinkled at the corners, and the bow slightly off-center. Victor had obviously wrapped it himself rather than having it done at a store or something. There was even a sticker attached to it with the letter ‘B’ written on it in blue ink.

“Thank you,” Benji said, his voice hushed with a sudden, unexpected surge of emotion. He didn’t deserve this. After what he had done… he didn’t deserve anything from Victor. “This is really kind of you.”

“It’s nothing,” Victor repeated.

Benji began to peel back the paper carefully. Underneath was a cardboard box and he removed the lid to find a folded guitar strap lying on top of some tissue paper within. It was black, with the distinctive prism from Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album printed across it. Benji traced the curving arc of light with his finger, following its path as it was transformed into a rainbow that stood out vibrantly against the dark background.

“I, uh… I heard that your band’s name came from a Pink Floyd song, so I figured you might like this,” Victor explained. “It came with some guitar picks, too, they’re in the paper there.”

There was a burning sensation in Benji’s eyes that he realized, with a sense of shock, was caused by tears. He kept his face down turned, staring hard at the gift in his hands, so that Victor wouldn’t notice.

Benji swallowed thickly and tried to find some way to speak past the lump in his throat. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Sure. Happy Hanukkah. And, uh, Merry Christmas, too.”

“Merry Christmas,” Benji returned quietly.

Victor hesitated for a moment, licking his lips nervously before saying, “Listen, I know that I was pretty tipsy the other night when I suggested we try to be friends, but I’ve been thinking about it and maybe I was wrong before. When I said us being friends wouldn’t make things easier for me. The truth is that I like working here and I want to stay for awhile, and I like working with you. I don’t want things to be awkward between us forever. So if it’s okay with you, maybe we really could give it a try.”

Don’t do this, the voice in Benji’s head whispered. You know you’re just going to hurt him.

But Benji was only human, and it was so hard to turn away from the kindness and the warmth that Victor offered.

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’d like that, too.”

Victor’s smile was one of the most beautiful things Benji had ever seen, and yet it left him feeling as though he would be swallowed alive by guilt.

As Benji was locking the door to the cafe behind them a few minutes later, Victor turned to him and asked, “Hey, um, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but… did something happen to your dad?”

Benji stared at him in surprise, so Victor continued, “It’s just that earlier you said your dad wasn’t Jewish, so…”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, he actually passed away about ten years ago,” Benji answered. “When I was twelve.”

“What happened to him?”

It was dark and cold out, and Benji was tired, and there was a feeling in his chest like someone had taken hold of his heart and squeezed it roughly. He wanted to return the gift that he was holding in his hands and tell Victor he wasn’t worth his act of kindness. He wanted to cry. He wanted to confess the truth and beg Victor to forgive him. He wanted to go home and drink himself stupid and never have to see Victor again. He wanted to take Victor’s beautiful face in his hands and kiss him hard and never have to let him go.

“He had a stroke. Two of them, actually. He spent a long time in a rehabilitation center after the first one, and then there was a lot of therapy, and we thought he was finally getting better. But about seven months later there was a second one. That’s when we lost him.”

Whenever he told the story to someone, it felt rehearsed. Like Benji was just an actor delivering lines. Like it wasn’t really his own life, his own father, that he was talking about. It helped to make the telling a little bit less painful.

But the way Victor was looking at him then with so much sympathy, like Benji’s pain was something he could somehow feel, made it impossible for Benji to maintain his usual detachment, no matter how hard he tried. In an instant, like a switch being flicked or some internal door opened, hot tears were stinging at his eyes again and blurring his vision.

He couldn’t see Victor clearly enough to make out his expression, if he was startled or made uncomfortable by Benji’s sudden breakdown. But it didn’t matter because a moment later Benji felt Victor’s arms moving to wrap around him, drawing Benji in tight against his chest, and after a second of hesitation Benji gave in to the aching need for comfort within him and pressed his face into the warmth of Victor’s shoulder.

For a few minutes they just stood like that on the sidewalk in front of the cafe underneath the washed out light of a streetlamp. Benji could not for the life of him remember the last time he’d allowed himself to cry like this in front of another human, and some part of his mind was already berating him for being so pathetic, but he couldn’t stop. He’d just been so alone, for so long, and now even Derek didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, and even though he knew he should stay away from Victor, he just needed this too much not to be a little bit selfish.

One of Victor’s hands came up to stroke Benji’s hair, his long fingers softly running through the strands in a soothing gesture, and he said, “I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you.”

It was strange, it made no sense at all, but for some reason Benji felt like maybe Victor could understand. He’d looked at Benji like he could feel the loss, too, just because Benji could feel it; like he was hurting just because Benji was.

But finally the tears were beginning to subside, and embarrassment started to creep in on him. He pulled back, scrubbing at his face roughly, and said, “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“Does that make it any easier?”

Benji glanced up at him sharply. Victor was asking as though he genuinely wanted to know the answer to that question; as though he needed to know.

“I’m not sure,” Benji said slowly, putting another step of distance in between them and trying to pull himself back together again. “Maybe a little bit. The loss never really goes away, but… it changes over time. It starts to feel different. There are days when it’s easy and I almost forget. And then there are other days when it’s… when it feels like too much.”

“So what do you do on those days?” Victor asked gently. “When it’s not easy?”

“I guess I find ways of making myself forget,” Benji admitted, and then immediately regretted the words. They were far too honest. He forced a smile, ignoring the lingering moisture on his cheeks and the constricted feeling of his throat. “That’s when being lead singer in a band comes in handy. No shortage of party invitations. I just try to find ways to distract myself with music or doing something fun with other people, that kind of thing.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense,” Victor said, although he was giving Benji a strange look now, like he wasn’t sure what to make of that answer.

“Sorry for suddenly getting all maudlin on you,” Benji said with a small laugh devoid of any real humor. He needed to leave. Being around Victor left him cracked open and raw, vulnerable in a way he never let himself be in front of anyone. “Thanks again for the gift, I really appreciate it. See you tomorrow.”

Victor blinked in surprise at the abrupt goodbye. “Oh, uh, okay. I’m actually not working tomorrow, I had to switch shifts because of a final. But I’ll see you soon. Um, goodnight, Benji.”

Back at his apartment later that evening, Benji found himself moving restlessly between his balcony and his bed and his table, unable to concentrate on anything. He poured himself a drink, sipped it, put it down again. All he could think of were Victor’s arms around him. Victor’s hands on his skin, in his hair. Victor’s eyes catching his, dark with want. Victor’s voice near his ear speaking softly, comfortingly.

There was a canvas on the easel with a half-finished painting, but it was nothing Benji truly cared about saving, so he spent ten minutes carefully removing it from its frame and flipping it, and then began spreading out the materials he needed for a new project. He started out by sketching what was in his head on some scrap paper, tossing one page aside after another, nothing quite capturing what he wanted to express. The mouth was the wrong shape, the lips a little too thin, the nose too wide; he couldn’t seem to get the angle of the jawline right. Finally he reached for his phone and pulled up Felix’s Instagram account which quickly led him to Victor’s. Another public profile, mainly made up of pictures of Victor with his friends, some with a girl he assumed was Victor’s sister, Pilar, and some of him at his basketball games. Benji scrolled back a little farther and as he did a familiar face appeared: a light-skinned, dark-haired guy with blue eyes. The one he’d seen on the bulletin board next to Victor’s bed. There were a number of photos of them together from about a year ago, but nothing more recent than that. He must have been someone Victor had known back in Texas.

It was hard to pinpoint what it was about that guy that made Benji so curious, but there was just something about the way Victor looked in the photos of the two of them that he couldn’t easily tear his gaze away from. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was because Victor seemed happy in those pictures, happier than he did in any of the others. Happier than he’d ever looked since Benji had met him.

Benji started to sketch Victor’s face as it appeared in one of the photos with that guy, but he stopped after a few minutes. It didn’t feel right; it was almost as if he was intruding on something. He went back to scrolling again, and eventually a different photo caught his eye. It was more recent, a picture clearly taken after he’d moved to Atlanta, because Benji recognized the background as the Winter Carnival that was hosted near Creekwood College every January. Victor was standing framed against a background of soft, colorful lights, his expression caught somewhere in between pensive and wistful, the emotion in his eyes not easily identifiable.

That was where Benji started: with his eyes. Just an outline of their shape, the black fringe of the lashes edging them, then the ring of the iris encircling a dark pupil. Next the fold of an eyelid that led to the brow, and the straight line of his nose. A slight dip beneath it and then those lips that always seemed to end in an upward curve.

It was well past midnight by the time the scrap paper sketch was finished enough to work as a guide for the painting. He mapped out the proportions onto the canvas with quick, practiced strokes of the pencil, and then began to fill it in, the features slowly growing more defined and detailed.

Around three in the morning Benji collapsed into bed, exhausted. Across the room he could see the glass of whiskey sitting untouched on the table and for a second considered getting up to drink it. Maybe it would help him fall asleep faster. But he was so tired already, drained by the sudden outpouring of frantic energy that had gone into the portrait, and all he wanted to do now was rest. When he closed his eyes, Victor’s face upon a field of light and shadow was all that he could see, a moment of stillness surrounded by a world in motion.

Chapter 9: The People Are Talking

Chapter Text

On Saturday morning Benji woke up at six feeling tired but more clear-headed than he had been in days, possibly weeks. The last two nights he’d been up until the middle of the night working obsessively on the portrait, too focused on it to do anything else, including drink more than just a few sips of anything. He wished he didn’t have to open at Brasstown since the rare lack of a hangover would have made it the perfect day to go to the gym for the first time in a while.

The initial two hours of his shift with Kayla seemed to pass by quicker than usual as he went about the work smoothly and efficiently, sometimes chatting a bit with the customers when he had a free moment. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be at work and not be at least a little buzzed. Some part of him was itching to slip away to the backroom for a few quick shots from the flask hidden in his locker, but he made himself an extra-strong cappuccino instead and ignored the temptation.

Victor came in around nine, picking up some additional hours during the rush to make up for taking the previous day off.

“Good morning,” Benji said brightly when Victor joined them behind the counter. “How’d your final go yesterday?”

Victor paused in the middle of tying his apron, apparently surprised by Benji’s cheerful tone. “Oh, uh, I think it went well. It was a tough class but I’m pretty sure I passed it.”

“Nice. What class was it for?”

“Syntax,” Victor replied and then laughed a bit at Benji’s blank look. “It’s basically about the structure of a language. Like, grammar, word order, that kind of thing. I probably should’ve waited until I was further along in the program to take it, but I figured it would help me out later on if I got it done now.”

“That makes sense,” Benji said, even though he had no idea what Victor was talking about.

“I bet you’re the nerdiest guy on the basketball team, aren’t you?” Kayla teased as Victor got to work on the espresso machine and Benji went back to the register.

Victor shook his head, smiling self-deprecatingly. “Nah, there’s at least one guy who’s a bigger nerd than I am. Meteorology major, so…”

“Ooh, yeah, hard to compete with that. Sounds like you’re a close second, though.”

“You’re one to talk,” Victor shot back at her playfully. “What are you studying again? Molecular biology?”

“Well, we can’t all be as effortlessly cool as our assistant manager over here,” Kayla replied with a grin at Benji. “How are things going with the band? Are you guys headed for stardom yet?”

“Absolutely,” Benji said. “I’ll be packing my bags and heading for New York or L. A. any day now.”

There was a sudden influx of customers that kept them busy for a while after that, and when it finally died down Benji had forgotten what they’d been talking about. It took him a second to figure out what Victor meant when he asked, “Is, uh… is that something you really wanna do? Move away from Atlanta, I mean?”

Kayla had just gone to take her break, so it was only the two of them behind the counter. Benji sipped his cappuccino and answered, “Oh. Not really, I was just joking about that. I doubt I’ll be moving anywhere anytime soon.”

It was hard to miss the relief in Victor’s eyes. “That’s good. Um, since Atlanta seems like a nice place to live and all. I’ve been thinking I might actually stay here after graduation. It’s a long ways off, obviously, but I really like it here so far.”

“Pretty different from Texas, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. It’s much easier living here. People seem a lot more… open-minded compared to where I grew up.”

It wasn’t hard to guess what Victor meant by that and Benji felt his pulse speed up a little at the subtle reference to Victor being gay. He took another drink of his coffee and tried to keep his expression neutral.

“I’m sure it’s better than Texas, but things aren’t exactly perfect here, either.”

“Maybe not. It’s still a lot easier for me, though,” Victor said quietly. “At least no one really knows me here.”

What must it have been like for Victor, growing up in a small, conservative town, with a boy’s name on his skin? Benji didn’t want to think about it. Not now, maybe not ever. Whatever Victor’s adolescence had been like, it couldn’t have been good, and if he let himself consider that now it might send him straight back to the whiskey in his locker. It had been a nice morning; he’d felt okay, for once, and until this topic had come up Victor had seemed happier than usual, too.

“You’ve been making some friends, though, right?” Benji asked him, in an attempt to change the topic. “Your roommate seems like a really nice guy.”

Victor’s face brightened at the mention of Felix. “Oh yeah, he’s pretty much my best friend here. We only just met in September but he’s awesome.”

Something suddenly occurred to Benji just then that he should have realized as soon as he’d gotten the text a couple of days ago, and he hurried to ask, “Hey, are you going to a Christmas party tonight?”

Victor frowned at him in surprise. “Uh, yeah, why?”

“At Lake’s apartment?”

“You know Lake?”

Benji nodded. “When I helped you get home the other night, I met Felix, and we figured out that I’m friends with his girlfriend. Anyway, she invited me, too.”

“Oh.” Victor stared at him for a second without saying anything, looking as though he needed a little time to process that. Finally, he asked, “So, what do you wanna do?”

A customer approached the counter then, and Benji was grateful for the distraction since it allowed him to figure out a response. On the one hand, it would probably be for the best if one of them didn’t show up at the party, and it wouldn’t be all that difficult for Benji to make up some excuse not to come. But the more he thought about doing that the more certain he became that he didn’t really want to. He was in a good mood and it would be fun to see his friends in the evening. It wasn’t often that he was free on a Saturday night since he almost always had a gig with The Distant Ships, which meant that he hadn’t been out with Lake’s group in a while. Besides, he and Victor were trying to be friends now, so why shouldn’t they be able to go to the same party? He’d already been reassured by Felix that no one else knew about Victor’s name, so it should be fine.

Once they’d finished with the customer, Benji turned back to Victor and said, “It’s cool. We can both go. You haven’t told anyone about, uh… you know…”

Victor shook his head. “No. Well, just Felix. But that’s it.”

“Okay, so it’s not a big deal then if we both go to the party. Right?”

Victor seemed slightly hesitant at first, but finally he said, “Yeah. You’re right. I, uh… I guess I’ll see you there then.”

The closer it got to the time of the party, the more Benji began to feel anxious about it and he started regretting his earlier decision. Because he was feeling stressed, he started drinking again as soon as he got back to his apartment in the afternoon, and by about seven thirty he was already much drunker than he’d intended to get. He briefly considered not going to the party after all, but he’d spent the past two nights cooped up at his place, and he hadn’t been around other people much since Derek had more or less dumped him and the band was on a break while Alex was out of town. Besides, the alcohol had soothed his nerves to the point where he was now feeling overly-confident about how everything would go, so he pulled on his jacket and headed out the door.

It took longer than usual to get to campus on the bus, making him wish he had at least stayed sober enough to drive, but he finally made it to Lake and Mia’s place around half past eight. There was Christmas music playing on the other side of the door, and a few seconds after he knocked Lake opened it in a form-fitting red dress with a tiny Santa hat perched on her head. She immediately scowled at him and swatted his shoulder.

“Where have you been? I told you the party started at seven,” she scolded, but then an instant later she cracked a smile, giving him a quick up and down. “But since you’re looking as sexy as ever, I guess I can find it in my heart to forgive you.”

Benji had to glance down to even know what he was wearing, since his focus that evening had been on drowning his anxiety rather than his appearance. He was glad to see that he was at least wearing one of his nicer shirts.

“You know me, always fashionably late,” he joked. He held up a bag. “I did come bearing gifts, though, if that helps.”

“Ooh, let’s see,” Lake chirped, taking the bag from him and peeking inside it.

“It’s just whiskey.”

Lake frowned and said quietly, “You are planning on taking it easy tonight, right? Like we talked about before?”

“Of course,” Benji said, plastering on the most reassuring smile he could manage and hoping she couldn’t see the signs of how inebriated he already was.

“Okay, good.” She smiled back at him hesitantly. “Well, thank you for the booze. Now get your attractive behind in here and meet our guests. I think there are going to be some people here tonight who you haven’t met before, which should be fun. Oh, and Felix! You have to come meet him first!”

Lake looped her arm through his and led him into the apartment, which was festively decorated with garlands, lights, and a small, plastic Christmas tree. The bright colors blurred in and out of focus garishly, an assault on his hazy senses. Every time he came over to Lake and Mia’s place, he was amazed all over again by the fact that it was university housing. The campus had a few buildings with more luxurious apartments available for those who could afford them, most of whom were grad students, but Lake and Mia were definitely well-off enough for it even as undergrads.

There were around ten people in the living room and it seemed like a few more out in the kitchen. Standing on the small balcony just past the table he could see Felix and Victor. They had their backs turned to the rest of the room, and Benji reflexively squinted to see if he could make out any sign of Victor’s name, but fortunately Victor was wearing a collared dark green shirt that hid it from view.

Benji offered quick hellos to Mia and a couple other people he knew as he passed them, Lake pulling him directly over to the balcony so he could ‘meet’ Felix. Benji hadn’t decided yet whether to act as though they were meeting for the first time or not, but by then it was too late because Lake was calling her boyfriend’s name and Felix and Victor were turning around to face them.

“Hey, Benji!” Felix said with a friendly smile. “Good to see you!”

Lake looked between them in confusion. “You guys already know each other?”

“Oh, uh, well,” Felix sputtered, suddenly unsure of himself.

“We met the other day when I walked Victor back to his dorm,” Benji explained. “Victor and I work together at Brasstown.”

“Oh. Huh. Small world, I guess,” Lake said.

“Isn’t it, though?” Felix laughed awkwardly. Benji realized through the fog of his own drunken state that Felix seemed to be pretty far gone as well, but clearly not anywhere near as experienced as Benji at handling himself under the influence, because a moment later he blurted out, “Man, there’re just all these crazy connections going on all over the place right now! I mean, don’t you ever feel like fate has brought us all together here? When you think about it, it’s really kinda beautiful-”

Victor’s eyes widened slightly in alarm and Benji didn’t miss the way he stepped on Felix’s foot in warning. Felix jumped a little in response, shooting Victor a confused and somewhat wounded look.

Benji needed another drink as soon as possible.

“Hey, uh, nice to see you again, Felix,” he said. “I’m just gonna go grab a beer. Be right back.”

In the kitchen he found both beer and Mia, who he hadn’t seen in a long time, so he ended up hanging out there for a while catching up with her, grateful for the excuse not to go back to the balcony. After about ten or fifteen minutes of small talk, Mia took a slow sip of her mulled wine and a strangely shy expression came over her.

“So, I, um. I overheard you say that you work with Victor at the cafe.”

“Yeah, he actually just started about a month ago.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Are you guys friends now or…?”

Benji shrugged. “I guess so. We don’t really know each other very well yet, but we’ve been out for drinks after work. Why?” His mind was running a little slower than usual, but then finally he put together the weird questions and the uncharacteristic shyness. “Are you into him?”

Mia bit her lip, looking down at her cup, and then admitted, “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, yeah, I like him, but I feel like I can’t quite figure him out. He’s really friendly, but then after you talk to him you realize he never actually said much about himself. I have no idea if he’s even interested in me…”

It seemed like Benji was constantly learning things about Victor, every single day that he spent with him, from his conversations with Benji and Dave, as well as from his actions and mannerisms and the things he didn’t say. Benji had barely known him for a month and yet he already felt like he could write volumes on everything he knew about Victor Salazar.

“You never seem to have any trouble figuring out if someone’s into you,” Mia said, with a slightly teasing smile. “I mean, judging by your success with the female fans whenever we go out to one of your shows or something.”

It’s easy when you don’t actually care, Benji thought, but what he said out loud was, “I just talk to people, that’s all. It’s not really all that mysterious.”

Mia sighed. “I wish it were that easy for me. I think I just get too stuck in my head about stuff like this. I’m always overthinking everything.”

Benji grabbed a new beer out of the fridge, twisting the cap off and taking a long drink to ease the discomfort this topic was causing him. “That’s what you have to do then. Get out of your head and pay attention to the person that’s right there in front of you.”

“What do you mean?”

In his mind he could see Victor looking back at him from the middle of the crowd at that house party in November. The way he’d darted his tongue out to lick his lips. How he’d stared up at Benji like there was no one else there but the two of them, like they were in a world all their own.

“There are just all these signals that show you when someone’s interested. It’s the eye contact and the tone of voice and, like, the little ways they find an excuse to touch you.”

“I get that in theory, but then in the moment I start second-guessing everything.” Mia laughed and shook her head at him. “No wonder you’re picking up girls all over the place, though, with that kind of confidence.”

Was it confidence? Or was it apathy? Benji took another long sip, the beer nearly half finished already. Most of the time it was probably the latter. That night with Victor though… it had just been a sense of connection too strong to be misinterpreted.

As if Benji’s thoughts had summoned him, Victor appeared in the doorway then. He stopped there, taking in the two of them and smiling awkwardly.

“Hey, guys,” he said, opening up the fridge and reaching in for a beer.

Next to Benji Mia was fidgeting with the plastic cup in her hands, turning it one way and then the other. She offered Victor a shy smile in return.

“Hi, Victor. Are you having a good night so far?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s been fun,” Victor said, attempting ineffectually to twist the cap off his beer. He had the sleeves of the dark green button up shirt he was wearing rolled up to his elbows, and the muscles in his forearms shifted as he worked to open the bottle. He dipped his head to see what he was doing and a few strands of hair slightly longer than the rest swept down over his forehead. Victor’s hair was so soft and fine. Benji’s hands still hadn’t forgotten the texture of it whispering over his fingers.

Benji dragged his eyes away from Victor to catch Mia watching him, too. The way she was darting looks up at Victor from under her lashes left Benji feeling unsettled. Restless. He needed to move. In an instant Benji was pressing forward into Victor’s space and snatching the bottle from him.

“It’s a pop off,” he said, standing far closer to Victor than he usually allowed himself to, reaching around behind him to grab an opener off the counter. He could practically sense Victor holding his breath as he waited for Benji to draw back, except Benji didn’t want to just yet. Victor was so close he could feel the heat of his body. If Victor leaned into him just a tiny bit more, Benji would probably be able to feel Victor’s breath on his lips whenever Victor finally allowed himself to exhale. Benji removed the cap in one quick, familiar motion and then slowly returned the opener, his wrist lightly brushing Victor’s bare forearm, before holding the beer out to him at last.

“There you go.”

Victor’s chest was rising and falling faster than it had been before, making up for the momentary paralysis induced by Benji’s proximity. His eyes were so dark when they locked on Benji’s.

“Thanks,” Victor said quietly, taking the bottle from him and bringing it up to his lips.

Benji’s own gaze flicked down to the press of the glass against Victor’s mouth.

A soft noise from behind Benji startled him out of the moment, and he stepped back hurriedly, reaching for his own drink. Mia shifted again, the gentle rustle of her dress strangely loud, even with the sound of the music coming from the living room. She set her wine down on the counter.

“I’m just gonna go now,” she said coolly. “Excuse me.”

She slipped out of the kitchen without looking at either of them.

Benji’s mind was reeling. What the f*ck had he just done? And what had Mia noticed? Everything was so soft and fluid around him, slippery, hard to hold onto. The alcohol was making him stupid and impulsive, and he needed to get himself back under control. But instead he found himself draining the last of his beer, as if that was somehow going to help.

“What was that?” Victor asked sharply. Surprised by his tone, Benji looked up to see Victor staring back at him with anger and confusion evident in his expression. “Did you really just-”

Victor cut himself off, shaking his head a little, and then abruptly left the kitchen.

The party went on. Benji knew he should leave, but he didn’t, and he knew he should slow down, but he couldn’t seem to do that either. He talked with a friend of Lake’s for a while about nothing he could remember once the conversation ended, and he met a few new people, and he tried his best to avoid anyone with whom things would be awkward.

Later in the evening, some of the guests had left, and the party began to wind down. Benji was sitting in a chair listening to Felix describe his DJ aspirations and drinking a rum and co*ke, while nearby Lake seemed to be having a fairly one-sided chat with Andrew who was staring off toward the sofa. The sofa where Victor and Mia had been sitting for a long time now, tucked close together at one end of it, their heads bowed toward each other. Benji had been watching them, too, out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but everything about their body language implied that it was an intimate discussion.

The floating sensation he was so accustomed to at this stage of intoxication was different that evening; it had transformed into something that was no longer so gentle and buoyant. It felt as though his underwater sanctuary was simmering darkly, and the source of the heat was something deep and desperate within him.

But in the end it wasn’t Benji’s jealousy that suddenly began to fill the room like a noxious cloud.

Andrew pushed away from where he’d been leaning back against the wall next to Lake, taking a step toward the couch as he downed the rest of his drink and set the cup aside. “Well, don’t you two look cozy,” he said with a smile that had no warmth behind it. His words were ever so slightly slurred. “Has he asked you to go steady yet or does he need to finish telling you his entire life story first?”

“Andrew-” Mia said warningly, but he ignored her.

“No, seriously, I just wanna know if I should be offering you guys my congratulations or not.”

“It’s none of your business what we’ve been talking about,” Mia snapped, but for just a fraction of a second her eyes flicked across the room toward Benji, and somehow his brain was just lucid enough to catch on to what that meant. Victor had told her.

“Come on,” Andrew said goadingly, looking at Victor now, “let’s clear the air. Is it Mia’s name on your back or isn’t it? You’re the only guy on the team that masks for every single game, including practice, so it’s obviously a name you think we’ll recognize. Right, Salazar? So just cut the crap and admit it.”

Victor was angrier than Benji had ever seen him before, his entire body taut with a barely controlled fury, but underneath that it was clear that he was terrified. There was a fine tremor in his hands, which were nervously clenching and unclenching, and his voice came out quiet and sharp as he said, “Just drop it, Andrew.”

“Just drop it,” Andrew repeated mockingly under his breath, and then suddenly he did the unthinkable. He took a quick step forward, reached out a hand, and tugged at the back of Victor’s collar in order to get a look at his neck. From Victor’ s position on the sofa, no one else would be able to see besides Andrew and Mia, who had averted her eyes, but just Andrew seeing it was already bad enough. Benji’s heart felt as though it had transformed into a block of ice inside of him. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t think Victor could, either.

Andrew’s eyes went wide, his mouth dropping in shock, and for a brief second his gaze flashed over to Benji like Mia’s had a minute ago. Then just as swiftly it darted down to the floor as a look of deep regret came over him. Victor belatedly knocked his hand away, making Andrew let go of his shirt. Andrew moved back a step and said, “sh*t. I, uh-”

“What the f*ck is wrong with you?” Mia demanded, as everyone around them seemed to come out of their stunned silence and realize what had just happened. “Who f*cking does something like that? We’re not in middle school here, Andrew, we’re grown adults who should be able to respect one another’s privacy.”

Andrew hung his head, looking more remorseful than Benji would have thought possible for him. “I – I’m sorry. I’m a little drunk, and I shouldn’t have-”

“You’re goddamn right you shouldn’t have,” Lake interrupted. She shook her head at him in disgust. “I think you should go now.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go.” Andrew glanced at Victor, who was still sitting there staring down at his own hands, his face pale. “I’m sorry, Victor. I’m just – I’m really sorry, man.”

“Whatever,” Victor muttered, barely audible. “Just go.”

Andrew began to head toward the door, but before he could leave, Victor said in a voice that carried across the room, “Wait.”

Everyone, including Andrew, turned to look at him. Benji had no idea what Victor was thinking and that terrified him. He had no idea what Victor would do now that one more person knew his secret. Their secret. Because Benji was tangled up in this as well, no matter how hard he tried to pretend that he wasn’t.

“I’m so tired of this,” Victor said bitterly. He looked around the room at everyone, meeting all of the eyes that were watching him, but his gaze stopped when it met Benji’s and paused there. Benji wanted desperately to look away and yet he couldn’t. Victor had him trapped.

Taking a deep breath, Victor said, “I’m tired of lying and hiding all the time and pretending that I’m ashamed of who I am. I’m not ashamed, not anymore. I don’t have Mia’s name. I don’t – I don’t have a woman’s name at all.”

No, Benji pleaded with him silently. Please don’t. I’m not ready for this.

There was sadness and compassion in Victor’s eyes, like he knew what Benji was thinking, but there was resolution there, too. He looked away from Benji and surveyed his friends – Felix was looking back at him supportively, Lake with confusion, Andrew shame, and Mia sadness – and then he said it.

“I’m gay.”

No one seemed to know what to say and the silence dragged on for an unbearably long period. Finally, it was Victor himself who broke it.

“I don’t care who knows about me anymore. You guys can all tell whoever you want to. But-” he swallowed, jaw clenching with some emotion Benji was too drunk and too scared to interpret, “-but the name on my back is my business and no one else’s.” He glared hard at Andrew. “So please just respect that at least.”

Andrew gave him a single, sharp nod. “I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”

He grabbed his coat off the back of a chair and left after that without saying anything else, and the sound of the door closing behind him seemed to break everyone out of their collective trance. Lake was the first to react, rushing over to sit beside Victor on the couch and putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

From across the room Benji couldn’t hear what Mia and Lake were saying to Victor, but they appeared to be comforting him and offering their support. Benji was so focused on the three of them that he nearly forgot Felix was next to him until his voice cut through Benji’s thoughts.

“You okay?” Felix asked, seeming a lot more sober now than he had when Benji had arrived at the party. Unlike Benji, he’d clearly had the sense to show a little restraint and slow down at some point during the evening.

“Fine,” Benji answered shortly. He tipped his cup up to his mouth, draining the last of it. He needed to go. He was too wasted to tell what exactly he was feeling in the aftermath of Victor coming out but he had a sense that panic was rapidly approaching, and he didn’t want to be here when it hit him.

In his rush to leave, he got to his feet too quickly and stumbled. He flung his hand out to catch himself but instead just smacked the back of it against the edge of a bookcase, which he then crashed into. The impact jarred his shoulder and side, pain stabbing through him as the hard wood dug into his ribs, and for a moment all he could do was lean against it and try to figure out how to breathe again.

Felix jumped up and tried to steady Benji with a hand on his arm, and Lake rushed over to him as well.

“Are you all right? What just happened?” she asked.

“He lost his balance getting up,” Felix explained.

Lake frowned, her concern turning quickly to suspicion. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

This was the absolute last thing Benji needed. “I’m fine,” he bit out again, pushing Felix away from him. He didn’t let himself look in Victor’s direction, afraid of the judgment he might find there. “I just tripped, there’s no need to freak out about it.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Lake argued. She looked down and gasped. “Benji, you’re bleeding! What’d you do to your hand?”

He looked down at it dumbly, realizing that there was now a dark stain spreading across the bandage covering his burn. Thank god he was too far gone to feel the pain of it fully, but now that his attention had been drawn to it he could no longer ignore the constant throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“It’s nothing. I’m just gonna go now, I can take care of it when I get home,” he mumbled. He headed straight for the door before any of them could stop him, ignoring Lake calling after him. She might catch up with him if he waited for the elevator so he took the stairs instead, feet struggling to find the shadowy steps as he spiraled recklessly downward.

Once he was outside of the building the cold air startled him, clearing his head just enough to make him realize he’d forgotten his jacket. There was no way he was going back for it, though, so he strode toward the busiest street nearby with the intention of ordering an Uber.

He hadn’t made it very far before there were rapid, jogging footsteps behind him and suddenly a hand on his shoulder pulled him to a stop. Benji spun around to find Victor standing there, his eyes full of worry.

“I’m okay,” Benji insisted stubbornly, trying to take a step away from Victor, but Victor tightened his grasp.

“No, you’re obviously not,” Victor countered. “You’re drunk, and you’re bleeding, and you’ve been acting weird all night. I get that you’re freaked out by what Andrew did and then me coming out to everyone, but even before that there was that thing with Mia… What was that, Benji?”

“It was nothing. Just let me go.” Benji’s heart was beating so fast. He needed to leave, he needed to put as much distance between himself and Victor as he possibly could before he did something stupid. Something even stupider than what he’d already done that night.

“It didn’t seem like nothing. It felt like you were – like you were flirting with me.”

Anger suddenly bubbled up inside of Benji. “Is that why you told Mia about me? When you were talking with her on the couch?”

Victor stared at him in surprise. “What? I didn’t tell Mia about you. She guessed there was something going on between us because of the way you were acting, so then I told her about me. I came out to her before I told everyone else tonight, since she’s my friend and she deserved to know. But you doing whatever that was – Benji, you can’t do stuff like that. It’s not fair to me.”

Benji hung his head guiltily as his brief burst of anger fizzled out. “I wasn’t thinking earlier. I just drank a little too much and it didn’t mean anything-”

“It does to me,” Victor snapped. “Don’t you get that? You’re not the one with something to lose here. You’re not the one with a name-”

Just like he’d done once many years ago, the first time he’d ever kissed a boy, Benji leaned forward suddenly and surprised them both with the hard, insistent press of his mouth against Victor’s. Victor gasped into it, lips parting in surprise, allowing Benji to tilt his head just right and deepen the kiss. One of Victor’s hands came up to thread tightly through Benji’s hair as Benji’s settled on his hips, drawing Victor in as close as he could get him. It was so f*cking good, just as good as the first time, and he couldn’t believe he’d waited this long to do it again-

There were voices nearby and Benji broke away from Victor in a rush, stepping backward so fast he nearly lost his balance. Victor’s hand flew out to grab hold of his arm and steady him, but he withdrew it a second later as a couple walked past them on the sidewalk.

What the f*ck was wrong with him? Benji had just grabbed Victor, right there in public, in the middle of the college campus, where anyone could see them. Benji’s eyes darted around, searching for any onlookers, but aside from the people who had just gone by there didn’t seem to be anyone else around.

Victor was watching him with some combination of wariness and need in his eyes, looking just as breathless as Benji felt.

“Come with me,” Victor whispered. His hand moved toward Benji as though he wanted to touch him, but fell away before making contact. Benji’s heart was racing skittishly like a frightened animal. He wanted to run but he couldn’t seem to stop staring at Victor’s mouth, at his red lips which were shining a little under the orange glow of the streetlamp.

“Please, just come back to my place,” Victor continued softly. “Felix won’t be there, he’ll stay at Lake’s tonight. So please come with me. I don’t wanna leave things like this.”

No, no, no, the voice in Benji’s head warned him, but what he said was, “Okay.”

Chapter 10: Body Electric

Chapter Text

The walk across campus in the dark felt interminable. It was like something out of a dream where time no longer worked the way it was supposed to. For some reason Benji felt hyper aware of the sound of their breathing, his own and Victor’s, the moments when it fell into sync, the periods when it wasn’t, the way it was rhythmically whispered into being in the hush of the night air around them.

He didn’t let himself think about anything but that sound.

Finally a tall white building, a set of steps up to the glass doors which opened when Victor slid a card key through a reader beside them, then a too-bright entryway followed by the dim gray interior of an elevator. There had been a gap of about a foot separating them the entire journey to Victor’s dorm room, but Benji felt the distance the most when they were held in that small space.

In the hallway, Benji leaned against the wall as Victor fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Just above the edge of his collar, Benji could make out the straight back of the ‘B’ written on the most vulnerable part of Victor’s neck. The bold, black line of it looked like an accusation.

They stepped into the room and Victor crossed it in the dark to switch on a lamp on his bedside table. Felix’s half of the room remained in shadow around Benji as he stood in the doorway, wondering what the hell he was doing there. But then Victor turned back to face Benji, every part of him beautiful in the half-light, and none of the reasons for staying away made sense anymore. Not when Benji’s mind was drifting below the surface, carried by currents of desire that could change direction in the space of a heartbeat, his inhibitions conveniently lowered. Not when Victor’s bright eyes were looking at him like that.

Benji closed the door behind himself and took a couple of steps toward Victor.

“I should look at your hand,” Victor said, confusing Benji at first. The dull ache came back to him now that Victor had reminded him of it, but it was difficult to care about it at that moment.

Victor closed the remaining distance between them, taking hold of Benji’s wrist just as he’d done at Brasstown the other day and leading him over to the bed. He held Benji’s injured hand up to the lamplight, examining the bandage closely.

“It seems like the bleeding has stopped. I have some medical tape with my basketball stuff, why don’t I just wrap it again so the blood doesn’t get on anything, and then you can change the bandage tomorrow?”

Benji shrugged. “Sure. That’s fine.”

Victor grabbed the tape out of a large duffle bag and sat down next to Benji on the edge of the mattress. Their knees brushed as Victor leaned into him and lifted Benji’s hand within his own again. It didn’t take long for him to wrap it but he didn’t let go of Benji right away after finishing, the pad of his thumb dragging softly over the inside of Benji’s wrist and drawing out a shiver from him. Their eyes met for just a moment before Victor looked away.

“You can sleep in Felix’s bed tonight if you want. I’m sure he won’t mind,” Victor said as he let go of Benji and stared down at the floor awkwardly.

Benji reached out slowly, placed his palm on Victor’s denim-clad thigh. The in and out of Victor’s breath sped up. “I’d rather stay here,” Benji told him, “if that’s okay.”

Victor bit his lower lip in hesitation. “We shouldn’t-”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ve been drinking,” Victor answered, and looked like he would say more but after a few seconds nothing else was forthcoming.

“I’d been drinking last time, too,” Benji pointed out.

“This is different. Last time we were both a little bit drunk, but-”

“I’m fine,” Benji insisted. He did his best to look back at Victor steadily, well-practiced in the art of being a reasonably high-functioning addict who was skilled at hiding the depth of his problem from others. “I tripped when I was getting up earlier, and I admit that I’m a little buzzed, but I’ve sobered up a lot in the last half an hour. I’m no drunker now than I was the other time-”

“Okay, whatever, maybe you’re not that drunk, but it’s not just that,” Victor interrupted him. “It’s also the fact that I don’t know what’s going on here. A lot happened tonight and I don’t know how you feel about it. I don’t know what you want.”

Benji traced the outline of Victor’s features with his eyes, from the dark sweep of his hair to the edge of his cheekbone cutting brightly through the darkness framing it, down to the bow-like curves of his mouth and the long column of his neck. He knew every detail of Victor’s face so well now, after days of staring at his photo and mapping out the lines and angles of him with pencil and paper, canvas and oil. The portrait was the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night and the first thing to greet him in the morning. The previous night he’d dreamt of it.

“I want you,” Benji confessed.

Those eyes. The ones Benji had spent so many hours studying and trying over and over again to capture the essence of. He could draw them a thousand times and never even come close.

“I-” Victor paused, caught in a moment of indecision. His gaze darted down to Benji’s lips and the skin tingled as though it had been touched. “I want you, too,” he whispered, even though there was no one to overhear. “I want you so much.”

Victor leaned in slowly, like he was still worried about frightening Benji away, even though Benji had been the one arguing in favor of this for some reason he couldn’t let himself think about now. When their mouths touched it was so soft at first, a barely there movement of skin against skin, until Benji pressed in a little harder and Victor was suddenly meeting him with just as much need.

After that everything happened so quickly, like being hit by a tidal wave of want and swept forcefully away with it. The kiss grew hungry, Benji’s teeth biting down just a little too roughly on Victor’s lower lip, Victor’s mouth opening on a gasp, their tongues sliding together. Hands tugging frantically at clothes, barely pulling away from each other long enough to yank Benji’s shirt over his head, Benji’s fingers fumbling with the buttons of Victor’s and then finally shoving it down, off his shoulders, baring the smooth planes of his upper body and his long arms. Benji ducked his head, following the length of Victor’s neck down to his collarbone, licking at the hollow there as his hand worked to open the front of Victor’s jeans.

In less than a minute they were both fully undressed in Victor’s bed, Benji spread half on top of him. Benji went back to nipping and teasing the skin of Victor’s neck, just under his jawline, their hips rocking against each other as Benji used his hand on both of them. Victor dragged one of his own down Benji’s back while the other remained tangled in his hair, making Benji gasp against his throat at the hint of short nails scraping over the ridges of his spine.

“What do you want?” Victor asked him, voice low and a little breathless, a little rough around the edges. The sound of it did things to Benji that required him to still the movement of his hand so this wouldn’t end before it had hardly even begun.

Benji rested his forehead against Victor’s shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath. “Want you inside me,” he said.

“God,” Victor groaned, “yeah, okay. Just, uh – just let me-”

Victor rolled away from him for a second, pulling open a drawer in his nightstand and removing a bottle of lube and condoms. Benji had never been more impatient in his life, no matter how good Victor’s fingers felt a minute later as they worked him open.

“That’s good, that’s enough,” Benji said after the bare minimum amount of prep. “Please, please just-”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Victor promised, rising up to kiss him. Benji wrapped his legs around Victor’s waist and pulled him in close, one hand gripping the back of Victor’s neck where Benji’s name was written on his skin. Their mouths were hardly touching now, just occasionally brushing lightly, sharing breath as Victor pushed slowly inside.

It was so good, it was all he’d wanted for weeks now, Victor above him and around him and within him, his eyes on Benji’s, his lips pressing intermittent kisses to Benji’s mouth and neck as he began to move. In some strange way it almost felt like an out of body experience, even though he was as fully connected to every singing, buzzing, electrified inch of himself as he possibly could be. He was fully present in the breath inside his lungs and the blood rushing through his veins, in the slide of his fingers through Victor’s hair and the curl of his toes, but he was somehow beyond all of it as well, somewhere outside, somewhere higher.

There was that feeling again of rawness, of being split open, of allowing Victor to see him and to have him in a way no one else ever had before. Later he would be terrified of it. Later he might feel ashamed; he might try to run away again. Later it might all fall apart. But right now it was everything he so desperately wanted. Right now it was enough to finally ease the aching hollow of his loneliness.

“Victor, please,” Benji gasped out against his lips, not even knowing what he was asking for. “f*ck, please…”

“Yeah,” Victor murmured, reaching down between them to take hold of him. “I got you, just let go for me…”

His org*sm hit him hard a minute later, whiting out his vision. He was inside and outside of himself all at once; he was burning; he was incandescent. Waves of pleasure almost too intense to bear rolled over him as he slowly came down from the high. Victor lifted Benji’s hips up off the bed just slightly as he leaned backward, moving faster and faster inside of him until he finally stilled.

Victor collapsed on top of him, drawing in deep breaths as he pressed his face into the crook of Benji’s shoulder. His brown skin was lightly spotted with sweat, the rise and fall of his back underneath Benji’s hands gradually slowing. The weight of him, the solid warmth of his body encompassed within Benji’s arms, grounded Benji within the present. He’d never felt so deeply connected to another human being before. He’d never felt anything like this.

Victor’s skin against his skin made him want to cry, and laugh, and confess his every secret, but he did none of those things. Instead he tightened his hold and thought to himself in a moment of concession, And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul?

Nine, maybe ten years old. It was winter, probably, or early spring. Mostly Benji remembered the furious heat of his skin prickling with goosebumps raised by the cold air of the room beyond his bed. He’d caught the flu and all day long he’d drifted in and out of a feverish sleep beneath a pile of blankets while his mom checked his temperature and brought him bowls of soup.

At some point in the evening (he knew it was evening by the dim quality of light filtering through the slits in the blinds covering his window), he was woken by the sound of raised voices. His parents shouting. He couldn’t make out any distinct words through the closed door and the fog clouding his brain, but the emotions filtered through nonetheless. Anger. Hurt. Impatience. A question or maybe a demand.

The house shook as a door slammed shut with a resounding thud. Quiet. Benji’s eyelids grew heavy, and he fell back to sleep.

Later he woke again to a dark room and a throat so dry it ached. He sat up in bed, sweaty sheets pooling in his lap as he reached for his half-empty glass of water and quickly drained it. Still so thirsty. The press of his bare feet against the icy floorboards almost made him hiss. He walked weakly, shivering, through the doorway with his glass in hand and padded softly down the hall toward the kitchen.

As he approached he caught a flash of movement. It was his father, passing into the living room and flopping down heavily into his favorite armchair. The glint of a clear bottle shone brightly in the light of a single lamp, winking star-like when he brought it up to his lips. Golden, honey-colored liquid sloshed forward to meet his mouth and then settled again.

Benji froze. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Paul like this, but in the past it was always a brief glimpse – Paul stumbling home late at night one time, passing by Benji as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, his father’s eyes red and his breath pungent, disappearing quickly into his bedroom; or the day that he’d argued with Ruth right before she took Benji and Asa out for a trip to the park, and when they’d returned Paul had been sitting on the patio with a cluster of empty beer bottles on the table beside him, head bowed, not looking at them as Ruth ushered them into their bedrooms and told them not to come out until she said so.

His mother wouldn’t want him to be around his father when he was like this. Benji should just go back to bed before he was noticed. But his throat was so dry.

He tiptoed out to the kitchen without attracting his father’s notice, and turned on the faucet to the smallest trickle so as not to make much noise. Paul must have heard the splash of the water against the glass anyway, though, because a moment later he called out, “Ruth? Would you just come talk to me? Please?”

There was no way to get back to his room without being seen now that Paul was aware there was someone present, so Benji cautiously entered the living room, hoping he wouldn’t get in trouble for this. He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? He just wanted some water.

Paul squinted at him in surprise. “Benji? What are you doin’ up now?” He frowned at the clock that hung over the entertainment center. “’s, like, two in the morning. You should be in bed.”

“I was thirsty,” he explained in a whisper, nervous that they might wake Ruth.

Paul’s lips twitched upward in a smile that was nothing like his usual ones. It almost looked as though it hurt. “Yeah, me too,” he said sardonically, raising the bottle to his lips again for another sip, and then settling it in his lap with his fingers curled loosely around the neck. “Don’t tell your mother that you saw me drinkin’, all right? She’ll say I’m bein’ a bad influence again. And she’d be right, too, wouldn’t she? She’s usually right, your mother – that’s half the problem with her. Anyway, don’t tell her, and don’t do any of the stupid stuff I do, and – uh, and get back to bed. Not good for you to be up late like this when you’re sick.”

Benji nodded and hurried back to his room, closing the door and sliding underneath the blankets where it felt safe. He remembered his reason for getting up in the first place and drained half of the glass in a few big gulps before placing it on his nightstand. There was a cold weight in the pit of his stomach; probably the water. Or what if it was Paul? Benji didn’t think he’d felt scared, exactly, seeing his dad acting so strangely. Just… unsettled. Uncomfortable. He wanted to race back out there and snatch the bottle from his father’s hands. He wanted his dad to be the way he was in the daytime all the time – happy, funny, full of stories; so easily likable. This other man didn’t feel like his dad at all. This other man was a stranger wearing his dad’s face.

Benji pulled the blankets up to his chin, the cotton of his pillowcase cool against the hot skin at the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. A disturbing possibility occurred to him. What if the stranger was always there, under the surface? Were there strangers inside of everyone?

There might be one inside of him, too. Another boy, a boy whose face he had to keep hidden. A secret boy.

Waking was a strange mix of pain and pleasure. Benji’s skin felt stretched too tight over his aching skull, made worse by the bright rays of light lancing in through a gap in the curtains nearby. There was warmth and smooth skin pressed against his left side, a finger tracing idly over his ribs, a long leg thrown over his thigh. Nausea made his empty stomach roll, although to his relief it didn’t seem like the kind of hangover that would end in vomiting; just a lingering queasiness that wouldn’t go away until he forced himself to eat something. Despite this, his body felt loose and relaxed, a little sore, the way it did after good sex.

Victor. Benji opened his eyes and there was his face looking back at him, like Victor had just been patiently watching and waiting all this time for Benji to wake up. Victor smiled, small and hesitant.

“Morning,” he said quietly.

“Morning,” Benji returned.

Victor swallowed nervously and asked, “Is this the part where you start freaking out?”

“No, I, uh, no – I’m good,” Benji rushed to say and Victor’s smile grew just a fraction wider even though there was a touch of sadness in his eyes.

“It’s okay. Honestly, I’m a little bit freaked out, too. I’m not sure we should have done that last night.”

“Do you regret it?”

Victor stared back at him searchingly, and then admitted. “No. I don’t. Do you?”

He should. Benji knew he should regret it, and maybe he would later, but right now… right now there was Victor with most of his guards down, his dark hair messy and his brown eyes soft, the morning light washing over all the flawless tan skin that wasn’t covered by his blankets in a way that made it seem to glow. Benji’s heart was beating too fast. His head hurt. His mouth was dry. He remembered being with Victor the night before and all he wanted was to do it over again.

“No. I don’t regret it, either.”

Victor’s smile made his breath catch.

“Good. That’s – that’s good,” Victor said, ducking his head as if to hide his happiness from Benji. His hand went back to tracing over Benji’s ribs then and he said, “I like this. I didn’t really notice it last night, ‘cause I was… kind of distracted, but it’s really cool.”

Benji glanced down and saw that Victor was following the lines of his tattoo with his index finger. “Thanks,” he said stiffly, wishing Victor would stop touching it, but he just continued on his path, following the curving vine that bound all of the arrows together.

“Is there a reason you picked this design?” Victor asked. “Like, does it have a special meaning?”

“Not really,” Benji said, and then felt his guilt grow instantly worse. He’d lied to Victor already and about something so huge; couldn’t he give him some small amount of the truth? “Well, I mean… I guess it’s from a line of Shakespeare that I liked when I was a teenager. Something from Hamlet.”

Victor’s eyes lit up with what seemed to be fondness. “Oh. Yeah, the other night when we were out with Dave, you mentioned that you liked literature. That’s really cool. Better than what I thought of when I saw it.”

“Why? What did you think of?”

“Uh… it just made me think of St Sebastian. That’s pretty depressing, though. Sorry.”

Benji didn’t know much about religion, but he did like art, and he was familiar with the saint since he was a popular subject in paintings. “That’s okay,” he said lightly. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Um. You do know who I’m talking about, right? Guy who was killed horribly by arrows?”

“Yes. And as far as famous Christian martyrs go he’s incredibly hot, so… yeah, I’ll take that.”

“Oh,” Victor said, blushing and laughing a little. “You might be right about that.”

He flushed even deeper when Benji pushed the blanket back a minute later and climbed out of bed. It was hard to believe Victor could be so shy after the way he’d been the night before, but it was surprisingly endearing, and for some reason it even seemed to be holding Benji’s usual morning-after shame at bay. He made use of the bathroom attached to Felix and Victor’s room, stealing a little of the toothpaste he found by the sink and rubbing it over his teeth with a finger. He should probably shower as well before he left, but he was tired and his head was pounding, so he mostly just wanted to go back to bed for a bit first.

When he left the bathroom, Victor hadn’t moved except to stretch out on his back with his hands behind his head , and Benji couldn’t resist pausing for a moment just to look at him. Victor was slender but obviously an athlete, his body strong and healthy and beautiful, every line and angle of it perfect, every inch of exposed skin making Benji want him in a way he’d never wanted anyone else before. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be doing this. He knew that, and yet…

Victor glanced away from the window he’d been staring out of and caught Benji standing there, naked, looking at him. Rather than becoming shy again his eyes darkened instead, tongue running briefly across the seam of his lips.

“Come back to bed,” Victor said, softly enough that Benji couldn’t tell whether it was an invitation or a command. Not that it mattered; in an instant he was there, climbing back onto the mattress and into Victor’s lap as Victor rose up on his elbows to meet him.

Kissing Victor was something he was growing rapidly addicted to, and that should worry him, but right at that moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was just good, so good, heat and breath and teeth grazing his bottom lip, sucking it lightly into Victor’s mouth, making him groan. He cupped Victor’s face in his hands and kissed him again and again, kisses that lit a fire beneath his skin, that made his bones tremble, that made his blood sing.

Victor under him and Victor inside him again, Victor’s eyes and lips and tongue, Victor’s shoulders flexing under Benji’s palms, his head falling back, the long line of his exposed throat. The taste of his sweat. The silky soft texture of his hair clenched in Benji’s fist. The sweet, desperate sound of his voice when he lost control just a little, when for a few minutes it was Benji who pinned his wrists against the bed and set the pace. The heady scent of him, so close, rolling them and pressing Benji down into the mattress and kissing him hard. Victor over him and all around him. Victor everywhere, in everything, in every part of him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Benji mumbled against Victor’s chest, his face tucked into the space below Victor’s chin just to the right of his heart. Benji realized after a second that it wasn’t even a lie; he actually was okay. Where was the creeping shame that always stole over him at moments like this? Where was the guilt that usually grew tumorous inside of him in Victor’s presence? He didn’t even feel much of the hangover anymore beyond an aching in his temples and an emptiness in his gut; he was still riding too high on the rush of sex, too blessedly f*cked out to care about any of that. His mind felt like a blank slate. Tabula rasa. Zen. He didn’t even want a drink.

“Yeah, I’m really, really good,” Benji continued, letting his hand stroke down Victor’s side and settle in a gentle curl over his hip.

Victor huffed out a small laugh that Benji could feel in the movement under his cheek more than he could hear. “Good. That’s great. Um, me too.” His fingers stilled in the middle of running through Benji’s hair. He asked hesitantly, “What about everything that happened last night? Are you okay with all of that?”

“We already established earlier that I don’t have any regrets about what we did last night,” Benji told him. “Or this morning, in case you’re wondering.”

“Uh, I actually meant all the other stuff. Like, what happened with Andrew, and me, um… me coming out to everyone…”

“Victor, what Andrew did to you was seriously f*cked up, so no, I’m not really okay with it.”

“Yeah,” Victor agreed with a weary sigh. “It’s not like it’s the first time something like that has ever happened, but I was hoping that kind of bullsh*t stopped after high school. I know this is probably really naive of me, but I don’t think he’ll tell anyone.”

Benji had seen Andrew’s face after he’d realized what he’d done the night before, and there was no faking the deep remorse he’d shown.

“I don’t think he will, either. He seemed genuine to me, too, when he said he’d keep your secret.”

“And the other thing? Me coming out last night?”

Benji hesitated, not wanting to admit that it had scared him. That it still did. It just made it that little bit easier for others to find out, to catch a glimpse of the first letters of Victor’s name and make the connection with Benji.

“It was your thing to tell. How are you feeling about it?” he deflected.

Victor was quiet for a while before he finally said, slow and sure, “Good. Really good, actually. There haven’t been a lot of times in my life when I got to choose to come out to people. It almost always just… happened to me, you know? It was really nice to finally get to do it for myself. But I know that it effects you, too, a little bit, so are you all right?”

All Benji could think of just then were Victor’s words. “It almost always just… happened to me.”

Throughout Benji’s life, very few people had ever known about him being gay. There were just the guys he’d hooked up with over the years and occasionally someone else who found out accidentally, like Justin had when he’d walked in on Derek and Benji drunkenly fooling around once in the bathroom after a show. He’d never even thought about the possibility of wanting to tell others; of what it might feel like not to hate this part of himself. Derek had lectured him and cajoled him and harassed him but none of it had ever gotten through. If anything, Derek’s aggressive pride in his identity had only made Benji dig his heels in deeper about being ashamed of his own.

But the relief in Victor’s voice had him considering it for the first time. What would it be like to choose that? To finally shrug off the back-breaking burden of secrecy and walk freely, upright, without it?

That’s not for you, a whisper in his mind tried to remind him. Others can do it, but you can’t. You’re not made for that. You’re your father’s son, whether you like it or not.

For a moment, though, the daydream of a life without lies lingered, vibrant and beautiful like something from a movie, from TV. Out of nowhere the fantasy was disrupted as a memory came to mind: getting out of bed in the middle of the night as a child, discovering his father drinking alone in the dark. You are your father’s son.

“It’s your choice, Victor. You should be able to do whatever makes you happy,” Benji said, relieved by how convincing he sounded. Benji’s fears and Benji’s weaknesses didn’t need to be Victor’s burden. Benji would bear them on his own.

Before Victor could respond to that, there was the sound of a key turning in a lock and suddenly Victor was yanking the sheet up over them as the door swung open.

“Victor, you better have a-” Felix stopped abruptly, mid-stride and mid-sentence, as he caught sight of the scene before him. The way he was gaping might have been funny if the door wasn’t still slightly open and Benji’s heart absolutely in his throat.

“Dude, shut the door!” Victor ordered in a voice high with panic.

Felix shut the door. Then he leaned back against it as his face slowly went red. “I, uh-”

“What are you even doing here?” Victor demanded. “You usually hang around at Lake’s until after lunchtime.”

Felix’s shock suddenly transformed into indignation. “Yeah, well, someone dramatically left a party last night after his soul- I mean, uh, after another someone injured himself, and then the first someone never responded to any of his texts all night! Excuse me for being worried about you guys!”

“We’re both fine,” Benji pointed out as calmly as possible considering the circ*mstances.

“Yeah, I can see that!”

Victor groaned, running a hand over his face. “Look, Felix, I’m really sorry I didn’t look at my phone. I was a little bit… occupied. Could you please just give us some privacy for a few minutes?”

Felix was staring toward the wall rather than looking at them directly, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and he said, “Yes, absolutely, I’ll just go now,” before quickly darting out the door again.

And there it was, the shame Benji had been waiting for all morning, settling like bile in the pit of his stomach. He slid his feet out of the bed, looking around for wherever his clothes had ended up the night before. Most of them seemed to be in a pile on the floor next to the nightstand.

“I should go,” Benji said as he rushed to dress himself. So much for showering. It would just have to wait until he got home, as humiliating as that was. His headache was returning now with renewed force, a throbbing in his skull that matched the rhythm of his heart.

“I’m really sorry about Felix,” Victor said, watching anxiously as Benji got ready to leave. “I honestly didn’t think he’d be back this morning.”

“It’s fine.”

Victor’s hands were twisting the edge of the sheet. It looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end he just stared down at the floor as he said, “So, I guess I’ll just see you at work then.”

“Yep. Pretty sure we’re closing together on Tuesday.” Benji looked around for his jacket, remembered that he’d left it at Lake’s, and finally checked to make sure he still had all of his important belongings in the pockets of his jeans. Cell phone, wallet, keys. He was good.

Victor didn’t look up until Benji had reached the door. The way he was trying so hard to mask his disappointment behind an awkward smile made Benji’s stomach roll with self-loathing.

“Okay. See you on Tuesday.”

“Yeah,” Benji agreed, feeling like he might throw up. “Goodbye, Victor.”

The first thing Benji did when he got back to his place later that morning was to flip the canvas over on its easel. The second thing was to pour himself a drink.

He finished it within a few minutes, setting the glass down next to the bottle for later, and then stripped down for a shower. The hot water on his skin was absolution; the rough way he scrubbed at it with the soap a penance.

The mirror was slightly fogged up when he emerged, so he wiped it off with a towel, leaving gem-like orbs of condensation clinging here and there across the glass. As he was combing his hair, his eyes caught on the dark lines of his tattoo. He could feel the ghost of a finger tracing lightly over it, hear Victor’s voice in his head asking him what it meant.

Benji frowned, squinting at the mirror in order to get a better look at it. There was something… off about it. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but it looked different. Like parts of it had been thinned out in some way; like there might be fewer thorns on the vine, or the fletching in the arrows was no longer as full as it had previously been. Maybe some parts of it were fading faster than others? Possibly some friction from his clothes or the way his arm rubbed against his side might be causing it. He’d have to look into getting it touched up.

As he studied it, Benji smoothed his finger over the dark lines, digging his nail in slightly at the tip of an arrowhead. Outrageous fortune. People said that a name written on the ribs meant someone who provided shelter; a protector. But rather than protecting him, it felt as though it would be Victor who dragged him into harm’s way; Victor who left him bound and vulnerable to the slings and arrows of a world that was so rarely willing to accept people like them.

Benji had always believed that he kept his secret in order to protect the ones he loved, but maybe all along the only one he’d been concerned with protecting was himself. He was no martyr, nor was he a prince. He was simply a boy within a boy; a stranger emulating another stranger.

Chapter 11: Night Pictures

Chapter Text

Benji told himself that sleeping with Victor wasn’t going to happen again, and he believed that, right up until it did.

Working with him on Tuesday after the Christmas party was awkward, and made all the worse by the fact that Benji’s jacket – which held his flask within an inner pocket – was still at Lake and Mia’s apartment. He’d had the day off on Monday, but Alex had just returned to Atlanta so he spent half of it at band practice and the other half binge drinking at home, even though he should’ve taken the opportunity to go pick up the coat from Lake. He couldn’t quite stomach the thought of facing her again so soon, and in the end he’d procrastinated. It wasn’t until he was about to head out the door for work that he remembered the jacket was missing and he would have been late if he’d tried to figure out an alternative way of bringing some booze with him. So in the end he’d had to spend an entire closing shift with Victor hungover and without the aid of alcohol, fully sober for every uncomfortable minute of it.

Victor was quiet around him again that afternoon, not shy exactly but wary, like he was afraid to upset Benji or scare him away. Benji kept his distance as well, busying himself with managerial tasks in the office when things were quiet and keeping his focus on the work when things were busy.

Even Dave seemed to notice something was up. Victor had just gone on his break when Dave turned to Benji and asked, “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you just seem kinda tense around each other tonight.”

Benji shrugged it off. “Everything’s fine. I have a headache, so maybe that’s why I seem quieter than usual.”

Dave didn’t look convinced, but fortunately he didn’t try to pursue it any further.

When it was finally time to lock up for the night, Benji was worried Victor would want to talk, and for a second it seemed like he would, but then he just synced his phone with the speakers instead and got to work scrubbing down the tables.

“This playlist is mostly cumbia, is that okay?” Victor asked. A kind of festive sounding music was playing, more upbeat than Benji was in the mood for. “I know it’s not really for everyone, so tell me if you want me to change it.”

“Anything’s fine,” Benji said offhandedly, already beginning to tune it out as he focused on finishing his tasks as fast as possible. A few seconds later he looked up again in surprise when Victor began softly singing along with the Spanish lyrics. His voice was surprisingly good, a little higher than Benji’s but controlled and smooth, like he might have some technical understanding of music. For a second it was on the tip of Benji’s tongue to say something, maybe to ask what the song was about or to compliment Victor’s voice, but then he caught Victor’s expression and found the words slipping away from him. Although the song was exuberant and happy, there was a deep sadness in Victor’s eyes. He almost seemed to be close to crying.

“You okay?” he found himself asking, as much to his own surprise as Victor’s.

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry, I just – um. I guess it’s just that Christmas is coming up in a few days, and I tend to listen to this music when I’m feeling homesick. My dad’s side of the family is from Colombia, and my uncles always play this stuff at our family get-together’s.”

“You said you’re staying here for Christmas, right?”

“Yeah,” Victor confirmed. “I’m just going to do something with my sister. I, uh-” he paused, looking uncertain about continuing, and then finally admitted, “I can’t really go back there. Back home, I mean.”

Benji didn’t have to ask why. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Victor kept his head down as he wiped off another table, his shoulders high and tense. “It’s okay,” he said, a little stiffly. “At least I have Pilar.”

They went back to work, Victor resuming his singing when the next song came on. The sound of the foreign words flowing smoothly from his lips left Benji aching in an unexpected way. He couldn’t understand any of it, it could be about any topic at all, but he could feel it – could feel the longing in Victor’s voice and the warmth, the underlying current of melancholy.

In the back room after they’d finished closing up, the silence between them shifted from tense and distant to suddenly and unavoidably charged. Victor’s every movement seemed to invoke a reaction in Benji’s body, the sound of Victor’s breath making Benji’s own chest rise and fall more quickly, the sight of Victor’s hands twisting deftly at the small of his back to untie his apron causing Benji’s heart to race. He knew those hands now, knew how those long fingers felt dragging down his spine, tracing lightly across his ribs, working slowly inside of him. Victor turned, and his mouth fell open a little on a surprised exhale as he realized Benji was watching him.

There was a half-second pause and then they were moving toward each other, and Benji only just barely remembered about the security camera in time. He grabbed Victor by the wrist and pulled him toward the employee bathroom, pushing into his space until Victor’s shoulders hit the wall and then finally their mouths were coming together again. Victor kissed him like he needed it just as much as Benji did, like maybe he was every bit as lonely as Benji himself was. Could their mutual loneliness cancel itself out? Or would it just end up breeding even more of the same?

It was so hard to think when Victor’s teeth were teasing at his lower lip.

At some point Victor broke away, a slight flush high on his cheeks, and asked, “You wanna come over to my place again?”

This was stupid; it was such a bad idea. Benji hated how drawn in he was, how much he wanted it, how certain he was that this would only lead to Victor getting hurt one way or another, and yet he just wasn’t strong enough to walk away.

Victor texted Felix on the way to his dorm, asking him to go to Lake’s, and the room was empty by the time they arrived. There was just a moment of awkwardness when the door closed behind them, a moment when he thought Victor might ask him a question. Dreading what he might say, Benji reached out for him instead, and as soon as his hand made contact with the smooth curve of Victor’s jaw, steadying him as Benji leaned up for a kiss, it became easy again.

At first the pace was as frantic as it had been the night after Lake’s party, their hands fumbling at buttons and zippers, scattering clothes haphazardly across the floor on their stumbling path to Victor’s bed. It was so hard to tear his mouth away from Victor’s mouth, from Victor’s skin, even for those brief seconds it took to remove their shirts or to fall back onto the mattress. But then Victor began to work his way down from the sensitive skin behind Benji’s ear to the dip where his shoulder met his neck, across the length of his torso, scattering kisses and bites that had Benji’s back arching, and all at once it began to slow, bit by bit, breath by breath. Gripping hands became caressing palms, desperate gasps low, drawn out groans.

Inside his body and out of it; what was the difference anymore? He felt connected to everything, felt tied by a thousand points of contact to every surface, to every floating dust mote and current of air, the smooth cotton under his clenching fingers, the particles of light, the soft pillow beneath his head. And more than any of it Victor – the wet heat of his mouth, the shine of his dark eyes, the redness of his lips. The weight of his arm, much later, settled around Benji’s waist, pulling Benji in against his chest. The gentle rhythms of his sleeping body. Victor, Victor; inevitable, inescapable. The crook of Victor’s elbow hung over the frame of Benji’s ink-darkened ribs.

“So how does your family celebrate Christmas?”

“Well, on Christmas Eve we usually watch some corny holiday movie. When I was a kid, it was always Elf or Gremlins or something like that, something my dad liked and wanted to share with me and my brother, but now it’s just whatever we’re all in the mood for. I feel like we end up spending half the evening just arguing about what to watch since we all have totally different taste. My mom’s really big on the old, black and white films and Asa tends to go for kinda quirky stuff like The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

“And what about you? What kind of movies do you like?” Victor asked, voice slightly muffled by the press of his cheek against Benji’s shoulder. Benji could see goosebumps forming on Victor’s skin, so he reached down over Victor’s body and dragged the blanket up a little higher to keep him warm.

“Uh, I don’t know… it’s a little embarrassing, but I guess I like the romantic ones.”

“What, like Love Actually? That kind of thing?” Victor said with a hint of teasing laughter in his voice.

“Ugh, no,” Benji responded, his disgust making Victor laugh for real. The way his chest shook against Benji’s, the slide of their skin, was very distracting, and Benji almost lost his train of thought for a moment. He recovered, saying, “Bill Nighy was that movie’s one saving grace. No, I mean stuff like While You Were Sleeping.”

Victor’s shoulders were shaking so hard now it made Benji crane his neck to frown at him.

“What? Why is that so funny?”

“I don’t know, you’re just so… serious most of the time. I wasn’t expecting a Sandra Bullock rom com from the nineties to be honest.

Benji shook his head. “It’s just a really sweet, feel-good movie about love and family. What more do you want out of a Christmas film? Admittedly the plot is ridiculous, but… Anyway, I’m not that serious.”

Victor stared up at him skeptically. “If I had to describe you I’d probably go with ‘the strong and silent type’. I mean, you’re really friendly and kind, and sometimes I see you joke around with Dave or the customers, but uh-” Victor paused, his shoulders tensing slightly.

“But what?” Benji asked, a little tentatively.

“But you just seem… closed off. Like, you rarely ever show people what’s beneath the surface.” Victor swallowed, ducking his head so Benji couldn’t see his face. “Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

Benji never did this. This whole lying around in bed talking the morning after, cuddling under the blankets, getting to know someone thing. It was a little strange and new, a little frightening, but somehow Victor had a way of easing him into letting his guard down despite his own best efforts to resist it. Victor was right, though; Benji was closed off, at least with everyone except for him. How was it that Victor couldn’t see all the ways Benji was beginning to let him in? How had he missed Benji continuously making himself vulnerable around Victor, just as he was now, even though he knew he shouldn’t?

“Anyway,” Victor said, after a long and rather awkward pause. His hand wandered idly, maybe a little anxiously, over Benji’s abdomen. “What else do you guys do besides watching movies?”

“Well, uh… on Christmas day we have a big breakfast. Mom likes to do french toast. Then we open presents, and after that we basically do nothing until dinnertime.”

“So you guys don’t get together with other family?”

“Not really. My mom was an only child and her parents have passed away already. I don’t think they ever really celebrated Christmas, though, anyway. When I was younger we used to visit my dad’s family sometimes, but it’s been awhile since we’ve done that. Usually we just go see them for family reunions in the summer instead. Most of them live north of here, in a really rural area.” He hesitated, unsure if it would be okay to ask. After what Victor had told him the night before, it might be a difficult subject, but Victor was the one who had brought up this topic, so Benji thought it might be all right. “What about you?”

When he answered, Victor’s voice was more even than Benji would’ve expected. He sounded more nostalgic than anything else, as though he had taken the pain and locked it all away somewhere deep and distant for the moment. “We always went to midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I used to love it, especially when I was younger. The music and the candlelight and everything is actually really beautiful. For Christmas morning my mom would cook a big breakfast, and then after that we’d go to my grandparents’ house. It was always this big thing, all the aunts and uncles and cousins and everybody packed in there. It got so loud with all those people and the music and the dogs. My Abuela Nati has these two really cute but kinda yappy toy poodles. All the noise used to drive my sister crazy since she’s not really a fan of big social gatherings. But it was nice. I, uh… I miss it. A lot. It’s going to be strange spending it here, just me and Pilar hanging out in one of our dorm rooms.”

“I’m really sorry, Victor. I wish things were different,” Benji said softly, and he meant it more than he could express. He ran his fingers through the short strands of Victor’s dark hair and down across the length of his neck. He didn’t even realize at first that he was tracing over the name until Victor drew in a sharp breath and went strangely still against him.

He relaxed after a moment, but Benji didn’t think Victor was just talking about his family situation anymore when he sighed a little and said, “Yeah. I wish things were different, too.”

After leaving Victor’s room on Wednesday morning, Benji sent Lake a text to see if she was at home, and finally went to pick up his jacket from her. He knew the minute the door opened that something was wrong.

“Hey, uh, good morning.”

“I think you should come in,” Lake said, holding the door open for him. He could see his jacket draped over the back of a chair, so he would need to come inside to get it anyway if Lake wasn’t going to just hand it over to him. Somewhat reluctantly he came in and took a seat next to her on the sofa.

“What’s up?”

“We need to talk, Benji,” Lake said, making his anxiety grow instantly worse.

“If this is about the other night, I’m fine. I already had a burn on my hand from cooking, and I wrapped it up as soon as I got home from your place.”

“This isn’t about your hand. This is about you drinking to the point of falling over and injuring yourself, and then disappearing on all of us, and also being rude to Mia. She hasn’t told me exactly what you did, but she’s been a little upset ever since Saturday and I know it’s not just her being disappointed because the guy she likes isn’t into her.”

“Okay,” Benji said slowly, trying to figure out the best way to get himself out of this mess and also feeling genuinely sh*tty about how he’d behaved around Mia. “You’re right. I didn’t mean to drink as much as I did, and I’m really sorry about that. I guess I just lost track of how much I’d had, you know?”

“Benji, stop,” Lake cut in. “There’s obviously more going on than that. I’ve been thinking about it, and it seemed like you were already a little drunk even when you arrived here. And then when I picked up your coat the other day, I found the flask inside it.”

Benji’s heart stopped as he stared at her in dismay. “It’s just – I just take it to parties sometimes-”

Lake sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to freak you out or accuse you of being a terrible person or something. I’m saying all of this because I’m worried about you. You’re one of my closest friends, even if we don’t get to hang out as often as I’d like to. I care about you a lot and it’s really hard to see you hurting yourself like this.”

“Lake, I really think you’re blowing this out of proportion,” Benji tried, his voice as calm as he could manage given the way it felt like he was barely holding back the panic building up inside of him. “I told you before, this time of year is hard for me, and sometimes-”

“No. I don’t really want to hear that excuse again. I’m not saying that’s not true – I can’t even imagine how hard it must be for you to have lost a parent like that – but Benji, this stuff has been going on for a long time. I just didn’t really notice the pattern, or how bad it is, until recently. You were a disaster at Mia’s birthday party in October, and the month before that you had to bail on our lunch plans twice because of hangovers, and before that there were nights where we went out and you put away twice as much as everyone else.” Lake reached a hand out and settled it gently on his wrist, and it was only as she did so that he realized he was shaking just slightly. “I really mean it when I say that I care about you. So please, please listen to me when I tell you that you need to get help with this.”

Benji stared down at Lake’s small hand, and strangely saw Victor’s there instead, remembering the way Victor had taken his wrist, how he’d held it so carefully as he’d treated Benji’s injury. He knew Lake was just worried about him, that she was trying to be a good friend, but he couldn’t help feeling like he’d just suddenly been put on trial. Like all of his dirty laundry had been drug out and dumped there on the floor between them, and he couldn’t stand the overwhelming sense of shame.

“I have to go,” he said abruptly, her hand falling away from him as he stood up. He grabbed the jacket, felt the familiar weight of the flask within the material. “I have work in a little while. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Benji, wait-” Lake said, jumping up and following him over to the door. She grabbed hold of his arm, trying to prevent him from leaving. “I’m serious, I’m really worried about you! Would you please just stay for a bit so we can talk about this?”

“I have to go,” Benji repeated tightly. “I’m fine, Lake, really. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Benji-”

He pulled himself free from her grasp and stepped out the door, closing it quickly behind him. Once again he headed for the stairs just in case she tried to follow. Down, down, down. The seemingly endless circles through the dim stairwell were a metaphor for his life. Benji had to get out of there.

Benji and Victor had another closing shift together that evening, and again Benji ended up in Victor’s bed, and again they didn’t talk about it. They talked instead about music as they lay together beneath the blankets enjoying the post-sex high, Benji’s head on Victor’s shoulder, Victor’s hand running softly through Benji’s hair. It turned out that Benji had guessed correctly when he’d thought that Victor might have received some musical education. His mother had taught him to play piano and for many years he’d apparently sung in the choir at his church.

“I gave up believing a long time before I gave up singing,” Victor confessed. “I couldn’t just stop going to church back then, no matter how much I wanted to, and the music was what got me through it. I actually really loved being part of the choir. It was nice to feel like we were making something beautiful. What about you? How’d you get into music?”

“I guess it started when my mom got me a guitar for my thirteenth birthday. It was, uh… it was only six months after my dad died. She must have thought that it would be a good way for me to express my emotions or something, to help me process the loss, and I think it really did help. She signed me up for lessons and then when I was in high school I started a band with some of my friends, and that was it for me. Music has been one of the most important things in my life ever since.”

“Your mom sounds like a pretty smart woman.”

“She has her moments,” Benji said fondly. “Don’t ever tell her I said that, though. I don’t think I could handle the ego trip that would result in.”

“Don’t worry, if I ever meet her I’ll be sure to keep your secret. I mean, god knows there’s nothing worse than letting your family know you respect and admire them,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He started talking about piano lessons with his own mother, but for a moment all Benji could think of was Ruth turning to him and saying, “If there’s ever anyone you want to bring home...”

But there could never be… Could there?

They didn’t fall asleep until after one in the morning, Benji only realizing that Victor had drifted off when the fingers brushing through his hair went still. He stopped in the middle of the story he’d been telling about a concert and glanced up at Victor’s face, cast half in shadow by the dim light. At this angle, with his curls a mess, he looked a bit like Caravaggio’s baptist. How was it that he’d only just met Victor for the first time a little over a month ago? Benji had somehow already learned every line and curve and angle of his features so intimately. It felt as though they’d known each other for years.

Before he’d turned out the lamp, Benji picked up his phone to make sure the alarm was set, and saw the notifications for several text messages from Lake which he’d been ignoring all day. He swiped them away, telling himself that Lake was making a bigger deal of this whole thing than she needed to. Distracted by work and Victor, he’d barely had anything to drink that day or the previous and he was doing fine. Maybe he did rely on alcohol a little more than he should, he could acknowledge that, but he’d been living this way for years now and nothing all that terrible had happened yet. Benji’s life was difficult and if drinking helped get him through all of the stress and the secrecy and the loneliness… well, at least he was getting through it.

The following day was the Thursday before Christmas Eve, and Benji had to leave Victor’s room early for an opening shift while Victor didn’t have to go in until three for a closing one with Sarah. That night Benji was on his balcony with a book of poetry and a bottle of bourbon when he got a text from Victor. How’s your evening going? was all that it said. It was enough to sow the seed of temptation, though, and Benji found himself texting back, Good, just hanging out at home. Wanna come over?

Thirty minutes later Victor was knocking on his door. Benji had thrown away most of the empties and the other detritus that he didn’t want Victor to see, brushed his teeth to mask the scent of the alcohol, and made a quick attempt at tidying up. The room was still cluttered, art supplies and books and pages of musical notes scattered over every surface, but at least he’d managed to clean up the worst of the mess.

“Wow,” Victor said as he stepped inside. “This isn’t exactly what I was imagining.”

“What did you expect?”

Victor looked suddenly embarrassed, stammering out, “Uh, I mean, it’s not like I spent a lot of time thinking about it, but – well, I guess I pictured something a little more… organized? And, like, stylish?”

Benji couldn’t hold back a small laugh at that. “Okay… So sorry to disappoint you.”

“No, I, uh-” Victor winced. “Let’s just pretend I didn’t say that, all right? This is awesome. I feel like I’m in the studio of a yet-to-be-discovered artistic genius. Like, someday I’ll get to tell people I was here, where it all started.”

“You gonna say you liked me even before it was cool?” Benji joked. His smile faltered a little when Victor’s eyes met his a second later, something soft and genuine in them.

“Yeah,” Victor answered slowly, “I’ll make sure everyone knows that I liked you first.”

Benji didn’t know what to say to something like that, especially not when it felt like those words had taken the breath right out of his lungs. He was spared from having to respond by the sudden, feather-light brush of Victor’s mouth against his.

Just as quickly Victor was pulling away from him, turning to look at the mess spread out across the table. “So,” he said, in an overly casual tone, like he hadn’t just been kissing Benji a second earlier, “what have you been working on over here?”

Benji swallowed, his lips tingling. “Just, uh, doing some painting. Still life’s, portraits, that kind of thing.”

“Can I see?”

Benji froze, realizing that the portrait of Victor was still sitting there on the easel, although fortunately flipped around so that only the back was visible. He hurried to grab some other stuff from the stack of canvases leaning against the wall and placed them on top of a pile of sketch paper on the table for Victor to look through.

“Benji… these are seriously amazing,” Victor said as he stared at one after another. There was a mostly finished monochromatic painting of Asa he was working on for his brother’s birthday, a rough and sketchy portrait of Derek he’d probably end up scrapping, an attempt at tenebrism featuring a stack of books on a wrinkled cloth which was really just a study in light despite the overwhelming amount of shadow it contained. And finally one he hadn’t counted on being part of the pile, a portrait he’d done months ago when he’d gotten wasted at home one night. He fought the urge to snatch it immediately out of Victor’s hands.

“Who’s this?” Victor asked, pausing on it. The painting was sloppy, the proportions all off and the lighting wrong, more abstract than realistic with a raw, emotional quality to it that embarrassed him.

“That one’s not very good, I rushed through it-”

“I like it,” Victor insisted. He glanced up at Benji knowingly. “It’s your dad, isn’t it? I can see the resemblance. You look a lot like him, actually.”

There was no denying it now, so Benji nodded. “Yeah. But, um… it’s really not very good, though…”

“These are all incredible. This one especially. You just have this way of making things feel alive, like there’s movement in the lines… I can’t believe how talented you are.” Victor smiled warmly at him and part of Benji wanted to hide his face so Victor wouldn’t see the effect he was having. How did Victor always manage to leave him feeling like he was wide open?

“So you can paint, and play guitar, and you’re a crazy good singer… what else can you do?”

Drink, hide, lie, the voice in Benji’s head supplied. He ignored it. Victor was here, and he was making Benji feel like he might actually be a person worth appreciating, a person Victor admired, and for just a moment he wanted to enjoy it.

“Have you seen my foam art?” he asked with a straight face.

Victor laughed. “I’m not sure you should add that one to the list…”

“What? Well, see if I ever give you another cappuccino with an original Benji Campbell masterpiece on it…”

“Oh no, please don’t stop giving me those! I love trying to figure out what the picture’s supposed to be,” Victor teased, so Benji shoved his shoulder playfully, and then the next thing he knew Victor was leaning into his space again, Benji catching just a glimpse of his bright eyes shining with amusem*nt before their lips met.

There was nothing that compared with kissing Victor, except for sex with Victor, but those two things pretty much always seemed to go hand in hand for them so far. He just couldn’t get enough of it, of any of it, of Victor’s mouth and skin, Victor’s hands in his hair, the sounds he made, the smell of him. Benji hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Victor’s jeans and dragged him toward the bed without any pause in their kisses. They landed in a tangle of limbs on top of the covers, still fully clothed, but for now Benji was enjoying that; he liked the weight of Victor’s body on top of his, the feeling of the denim between them and the soft flannel of Victor’s shirt brushing against Benji’s bare arms.

One of Victor’ s legs slipped between his and Benji groaned as Victor rocked down against him, his hands fisting in the cotton covering Victor’s back, trying to somehow pull him in even closer. God, it was good. No one else had ever felt like this. It was like the touch and the scent of Victor alone were enough to make him drunk, to leave his head spinning, lost in how much he needed it. Every sensation was heightened by the urgency in their movements, in each kiss and touch, in the way they grasped and tugged and breathed roughly against one another’s skin. Although he tried not to think about it, Benji knew that it was an urgency fed by fear; that maybe this time would be the last time, that maybe tomorrow it would all fall apart.

In the morning Benji awoke alone in his bed to the sound of someone speaking softly nearby. He squinted blearily, eyes adjusting slowly to the bright beams of sunlight pouring in through the half-open curtain, and caught sight of Victor sitting on one of the chairs on the balcony. It was probably cold outside and yet he was wearing only a t-shirt and boxers as he talked on the phone, his side of the conversation just barely loud enough to be audible through the glass door.

“…yeah, I think we’ll have to do it at Pilar’s since her dorm has a slightly better set up for cooking than mine. Felix ended up deciding to save money and stay in Atlanta after all so he’s gonna join us. He keeps saying we should try to make all this fancy stuff for dinner tomorrow but I’m pretty sure the best we’re gonna be able to do with a single-burner stove is maybe some rice and veggies to have with some take-out.” Victor paused, letting out a small laugh at something the other person on the line said. “No way, if Pilar even thinks about suggesting a KFC bucket I will lose all respect for her. Yeah, okay, I’ll tell her you said so. Hey, uh, I should probably go, hermano. I’m at a friend’s place right now… Yes, a friend’s place… shut up, Adrian. I thought older brothers were supposed to embarrass the younger ones, not the other way around. Anyway, I need to go. We can talk later today if you’re free, though, before you guys go to church.” There was a minute of Victor speaking just in Spanish and then he said, “Okay, sounds good. Love you.”

Victor came back inside a second later, looking surprised to see that Benji was awake. “Oh, good morning,” he said, crossing the room toward the bed. He was shivering hard, so Benji scooted over to make room for him, lifting the blanket up in invitation. Victor slipped beneath the covers and into Benji’s arms gratefully, his body tense with cold as Benji rubbed his back and shoulders in an attempt to warm him up.

“What were you doing outside half-dressed like this? You do realize that it’s December, right?”

Victor shrugged a little sheepishly. “I didn’t want to wake you. Also, I’m not sure where my jeans ended up…”

Benji just shook his head at that in amusem*nt. “Was that your little brother?”

A fond smile spread across Victor’s face. “Yeah, that was Adrian. He’s kind of an early bird like me, so sometimes he calls first thing in the morning.”

“You guys are sick,” Benji said teasingly. “It’s not even eight yet.”

“Growing up on a farm will do that to you.”

“You grew up on a farm?” Benji asked in surprise.

“Yeah, kinda. I mean, not like a big one or anything. We just had some cows and a couple of horses, some chickens… I told you before, where I grew up was really rural.”

“I know, but I wasn’t picturing cows and chickens rural,” Benji said bluntly, making Victor laugh. “That’s, like, actual country living.”

“Well, yeah.” Victor’s shivering had finally begun to subside, and he rolled over on top of Benji, resting on his forearms as he grinned down at him. “I get that it must be hard for a city slicker like you to imagine, but some people actually live on farms.”

Benji waggled his brows a little. “Please tell me you had a cowboy hat.”

Victor blushed. He darted his eyes away shyly for a moment before he asked, “Is that what you’re into?”

“I do have a soft spot for country music,” Benji admitted. He remembered road trips to Dollywood with his family as a kid and nights at home watching westerns with his dad. Around eleven or twelve Benji had already begun to stare just a little too long at those rugged silver screen cowboys, their swagger making his heart pound for reasons he hadn’t quite understood yet at that age. He’d never said it out loud before but he told Victor then, in a quiet voice that by some miracle was mostly free of shame, “…and I might have a soft spot for country boys, too.”

Victor leaned down and kissed him then, sweet and slow, and when he pulled away he said in a voice that was half daring and half nervous, “Next time I come over, I’ll bring my hat.”

Chapter 12: El Alma y El Cuerpo

Chapter Text

On Friday morning after Victor’s phone call with his brother, they lazed around in bed for a while chatting, which inevitably led to sex, and then showers, and Benji ended up cooking them the nicest breakfast he could manage with the meager offerings his kitchen provided. It was Christmas Eve and that seemed to warrant a little extra effort, not to mention that for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely Benji was clear-headed and in a great mood. He dug around in the back of his cupboard for some cocoa powder – amazingly there was still some in there – and then went to work making them chocolate banana pancakes.

Victor emerged from the bathroom while he was in the middle of frying them, wrapped in just a towel and looking distractingly hot. His dark curls were clinging wetly to his forehead, tiny drops of water running down his neck and shoulders along paths that Benji’s lips were aching to follow. Victor paused on his way past Benji, his eyes growing dark with want in response to Benji’s gaze dragging slowly over him.

“I think your pancake might be burning,” Victor said softly, and for a second Benji’s lust-addled brain didn’t process anything beyond how much he liked the sound of Victor’s voice just then, quiet and a little amused. But the acrid scent reached him a moment later and he let out a flustered “sh*t!” as he hurried to remove the burnt food from the pan.

Victor’s smile was surprisingly sly as he said, “Maybe I’d better go put some clothes on so we don’t end up going hungry…”

Flushing with embarrassment, Benji turned quickly back to the task at hand and did not allow himself to sneak a peek when he heard the rustle of fabric in the room behind him.

Breakfast with Victor was nice. Clearing a space at the cluttered table would have required too much effort, so they carried plates of pancakes and mugs of coffee out to Benji’s balcony. The air was crisp but not unreasonably cold (if you were properly dressed) and while they ate they entertained each other by making up unlikely stories about the people passing by on the sidewalk below them. Victor’s suggestion that an extremely busty blond woman in a large hat and sunglasses might be Dolly Parton lying low from the paparazzi had Benji snorting hard enough to accidentally choke on a mouthful of coffee.

“There is no way Dolly would ever go out in public in an outfit that basic,” Benji protested once he’d recovered enough to speak again. “Even undercover she’d have better style than that.”

Victor laughed. “Who knew you were such a Dolly Parton stan.”

“Dolly is timeless,” Benji insisted. “She’s basically a national treasure. What’s not to love about her?”

The smile that lit up Victor’s face at that was so full of affection that Benji had to turn his gaze back to the faces of the strangers below them just to calm the beating of his heart.

It turned out that Victor had taken the bus the night before, so even though it was out of his way, Benji gave him a ride to the Creekwood campus after they’d eaten. For just a moment before he climbed out of the car, Victor looked over at Benji silently, his tongue brushing over his lips, and with sudden insight Benji realized that Victor wanted to kiss him goodbye. He felt his breath catch in response. Was it fear or was it hope that had him frozen, waiting to see what Victor would do?

But in the end Victor just gave him a small smile and said, “Merry Christmas, Benji. Have a good time with your family.”

“Thanks.” Benji let out a slow breath. “I hope you have fun with Felix and Pilar. I’m, uh, I’m really glad you have them to celebrate with. I’ll see you in a few days.”

He tried not to glance back at Victor in the mirror as he pulled away, headed toward home; tried not to worry about whether Victor would be okay, if he’d be lonely without his family, if the next few days would be difficult for him. After a moment Benji gave in and looked, but by then Victor had already disappeared from view.

The rest of the afternoon passed by slowly. Asa was busy for part of it with a baking project – he was making two different types of cookies – and then he and Benji cooked dinner together, which was followed by the annual debate over which movie to watch. In the end they settled on Home Alone, mainly out of nostalgia and because most of the new releases were vetoed for one reason or another.

Benji’s good mood from earlier in the day had lasted longer than he’d expected, so despite being back home he wasn’t drinking as heavily as he usually did. He was only mildly buzzed when a text from Victor popped up on his phone at a little past eight p. m.

So what ended up being the winner of the Campbell xmas eve movie contest?

In response, Benji snapped a quick photo of the TV screen. A minute later another message from Victor appeared.

omg why is that man’s head on fire?? did u guys get confused and think it was halloween?

Benji stifled a laugh and sent him another photo along with a brief message.

Does this one help make it a little clearer?

Uhhh… nope. Looks like a guy got hit in the face with an iron. Still don’t see how this is a xmas movie and not like the three stooges or something.

Shaking his head despairingly at that, Benji sent back a final picture earning himself a strange look from Asa.

Ok who watches the stooges on xmas eve? Or ever for that matter? Also if you can’t figure it out from this one you should be truly ashamed of your lack of pop culture knowledge

Ahh yes the one and only Kevin McCallister. Ok I am a little embarrassed that I didn’t recognize it sooner. Nice choice, Home Alone is a classic. It was one of Pilar’s favs when she was a kid, I think it was her dream to be left alone at the house like that with no other humans around to bother her

Benji was in the middle of typing a response to that when Asa said in an overly casual tone, “Texting the secret girlfriend?”

Ruth glanced over at them in surprise, but Benji didn’t look up from his phone as he answered dryly, “Yeah, just letting her know that you guys might be catching onto us. We like to communicate by a complex system of code that consists entirely of Macaulay Culkin movie references, just in case our top secret relationship ever becomes compromised.”

Asa rolled his eyes dramatically. “For real, though, who are you texting? I swear to god your whole face was, like, softly glowing just now…”

“Well, it must have been the warm glow of my love for music because I was just chatting with the guys from the band.”

“If you say so,” Asa muttered, looking unconvinced.

“Stop prying into your big brother’s life and go get me some more of those cookies you made,” Ruth told him. Asa let out a sigh but did as he was asked, coming back with a plate full of them which he placed on the coffee table. Ruth leaned over to give him a grateful pat on the arm before grabbing a chocolate peppermint cookie. “Thanks, schatzi. Your culinary skills are getting really impressive these days.”

“Is there a secret someone in your life that you need to impress?” Benji wondered teasingly.

Asa immediately gave the answer away by blushing, which made Benji and Ruth laugh. “Shut up,” Asa grumbled, annoyed at being caught out so quickly.

“It’s that one you had over the other day, isn’t it?” Ruth asked with a smile. “What was her name again? Felicity?”

“Felicia,” Asa corrected. “And, uh… I don’t know, maybe. It’s not, like, anything official yet. I only just broke up with Meg a couple of weeks ago so I don’t want to rush into something right away. Besides it’s senior year anyway…”

Benji frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, pretty much everybody breaks up at the end of senior year, right?” Asa pointed out. “So what’s the point in starting something now if we’re just going to end it in a little while?”

“You’re not going away to college until, like, August or September,” Benji argued. “Are you seriously saying you don’t want to date anyone for the next nine months?”

Asa shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess? I just don’t think I’m very good at doing the casual thing. If I date someone, I want to know that there’s a chance we can make it last for a long time. I don’t want to have to put a time limit on it.”

It felt like every relationship Benji had ever had – if any of his hook ups or friends with benefits arrangements could even be described as relationships – had come with some sort of expected time limit, and always a short one at that. Even with Derek, the longest lasting of any of them, there had been a tacit understanding from the very beginning that their arrangement would only last for as long as it was convenient for them both. He couldn’t help thinking back to the past three nights, all of which had been spent with Victor, and the frantic energy that seemed to underlie all of their encounters. When each time could potentially be the last time, it was almost impossible not to rush right into it and take what you could before it was over, regardless of the heartache that would follow.

Benji was glad his little brother wasn’t like that, though. He was glad that Asa moved slowly, that he was careful with his heart, that he felt like he deserved something healthy and long-lasting. If things were different, if Benji were straight, he was pretty sure he would be the same way; the type of person who sought out commitment rather than doing everything in his power to avoid it as he did now. But he wasn’t straight, and healthy, long-lasting queer relationships in this day and age were few and far between, especially for men. And so loneliness was epidemic in their world, a world of casual encounters where sometimes exchanging names was more intimate than exchanging sex acts, a world that still existed mainly in the shadows despite the recent efforts of activists like Derek to drag it kicking and screaming out into the light of mainstream society.

Maybe one day they’d succeed and things would be different. That day would be a long time coming, though, and Benji knew no other way of living than the one he had.

“Just because something only lasts a short time doesn’t mean it’s not worth experiencing,” Ruth pointed out then, shaking Benji out of his thoughts and surprising him with the note of solemnity in the words. “There are all kinds of time limits in life – some you can foresee and some you can’t – and if you let yourself get too caught up in worrying about what’s coming down the line in the future, you’ll miss the chance to enjoy what you have in the present.” Ruth paused for a moment, turning a little in her seat so that she could look at her sons head on, an expression on her face that Benji had rarely seen from her before. “Never let an opportunity for happiness slip away if you can help it, even if you know you can’t hold onto it forever. You can’t hold onto anything forever anyway, can you? Aside from the soul, I guess, and the existence of that we can only take on faith.”

Benji and Asa stared back at her in silence for a moment, equally taken aback by the unusually philosophical answer from their mother who tended to guard the vulnerable parts of herself with a nearly impervious outer shell of humor.

“When did you start getting so deep?” Asa joked a little nervously, as though he didn’t know what else to say, and just like that the moment passed, and the familiar veneer of irreverence returned to Ruth’s face.

“Hey, I’ve always been a fount of wisdom,” Ruth protested, “it’s not my fault you two never listen to me.”

On screen, Catherine O’Hara’s character was finally reunited with the son she’d overlooked and forgotten, and for a few overly sentimental Hollywood minutes the dysfunctional McCallister family seemed able to take Ruth’s advice about living in the present moment. How long would it last before they all began to take each other for granted again? Benji thought of Victor once more and wondered what his last Christmas with his family had been like, if he’d had the presence of mind to make the most of it that year before it had been lost to him. Had Derek appreciated his last days with his family before they’d kicked him out at age fifteen for being gay? Had his roommate, Aaron? Derek had told him once that Aaron hadn’t spoken to his parents in nearly ten years.

Out of the corner of his eye Benji watched Ruth and Asa, and wondered – not for the first time –if he would also lose what he had now if his own secret ever came to light. How many more Christmases like this one were left to him? Being queer seemed to impose its own set of time limits in both love and family life, so often and so cruelly brief. That was why it was better to keep everyone at a safe distance; because that way it wouldn’t hurt as much when they eventually left.

Ruth got up and wished them both a goodnight as the credits began to roll. It was still relatively early, not even ten o’clock yet, so Benji hung out in the living room listening to music on his phone while Asa puttered around in the kitchen putting his remaining cookies away and tidying up. Benji’s mind was still wrapped up in thoughts of Victor and family and a contemplation of impermanence, and somehow he found himself suddenly searching for cumbia bands like the music Victor had sung along to at the cafe the other night. One of the most listened to bands on Spotify was a modernized, electronic-slash-alternative-pop group from Colombia called Bomba Estereo which had their roots in cumbia. Benji immediately liked their sound despite being unable to understand a word of the lyrics and spent a good fifteen minutes reading articles about them online while he played one of their albums.

“What are you listening to?” Asa asked when he returned to the room and took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

“Nothing much, just a band Derek recommended,” Benji lied, for no good reason except that anything related to Victor felt too fragile to be discussed openly. He pulled his earbuds out and was about to put his phone away in order to not be an anti-social jerk when a new text popped up. Following it was a short video clip of a choir singing on stage in a symphony hall with an enormous Christmas tree lit up in the background.

It’s not exactly as atmospheric as midnight mass but the concert on campus tonight was pretty great. Felix totally slept through the last ten minutes though 😂

You should sing with them next year. You’re definitely good enough

Thanks 😊
maybe I will… if my voice isn’t too rusty from lack of use by then lol

I know this great cafe where you can sing as you mop after hours and they’ll even pay you for it. No excuse for letting a voice like yours go to waste

“Chatting with the band again?” Asa asked skeptically, startling Benji out of his conversation with Victor. He quickly tucked his phone away, feeling like a bit of an ass after all for paying more attention to it than his brother.

“Uh, yeah, just giving Derek my thoughts on that band I was listening to,” he said. “Sorry. Did you want to watch something else? It’s still kinda early.”

“We can just put on whatever. I’m not sure I’m in the mood to sit through another movie tonight,” Asa answered. He grabbed the remote and began surfing channels, eventually settling on some kind of baking competition on the Food Network. They sat and watched as the contestants tried to put together elaborate gingerbread houses, neither of them really speaking much beyond some occasional commentary.

The later it got at the house the more difficult it became for Benji to be there. The darkness that began to fill each room made it harder to retain a sense of time, and everywhere Benji looked the shadows were harboring memories. There was the spot on the beat up old coffee table where Paul had rested his feet in the evenings, and the peg on the coat rack where the dark jacket which was part of his EMT uniform had always hung. There was the space beside the door where he would kick off his boots when he came inside. The armchair where Benji and Asa had once been small enough to squeeze in on either side of Paul’s lap as he read them stories. The gap between the chair and the wall where his walker had stood in the months following his first stroke. The place on the side table just below the lamp where Ruth would leave little plastic cups with colorful pills inside them.

Benji slipped away to the bathroom then for the aid of some liquor to help keep the ghosts at bay. He was already dreading going into his old room soon. Sleep never came easily to him there.

A few minutes after Benji had returned to the sofa, a little looser and a little hazier, Asa said hesitantly, “Hey, uh, when you were here before, I asked you about something, but then Mom came home and we never got to talk about it-”

“Asa,” Benji cut in warningly, a sharp spike of anxiety stabbing icily through him, “I’d really rather not-”

“Benji, please,” Asa insisted, his gaze directed pleadingly at Benji who continued to stare stonily toward the TV. “I know you don’t like talking about your name, but I don’t get why. I’ve never understood it. I guess over the years I just kind of formed this theory that it was because you were nameless, except when I asked you about that last time you said you weren’t. Ever since then I’ve been thinking about it and the only thing that really makes sense to me is that there must be something unusual about your name. Right?”

“Seriously, Asa, I don’t want to talk about this. Just drop it.”

Asa’s jaw clenched stubbornly and Benji’s heart sank as he realized his brother wasn’t going to give up so easily this time. “So what is it? Did your soulmate pass away, like Aunt Cassie’s did? I’m guessing not, since apparently that’s, like, extremely rare. Do you have multiple names?” He paused, waiting for an answer from Benji and then continued when he didn’t receive one, “That seems unlikely, too, considering that I haven’t even seen one name on your body in all these years.”

“Stop it,” Benji snapped, growing increasingly more agitated with each of Asa’s guesses. “We’re not doing this. I’m not going to talk about it.”

Asa ignored him again, saying, “The more I thought about it the more it seemed like neither of those things really made sense, and that’s when I remembered your tattoo. How old were you when you got it, anyway? Like, fourteen or fifteen? That’s where your name is. Isn’t it? Underneath the tattoo.” Benji felt himself go completely still, aside from the furious thudding of his heart. “I just don’t get why you’d hide your name, though, unless it’s someone you’re ashamed-”

“Stop!” Benji barked out, far louder and more aggressively than he’d intended, and Asa immediately shut up, staring back at him wide-eyed and hurt. Benji never got angry with Asa, not truly, but he was now, he was so angry he was trembling with it, because underneath the anger was an even greater well of fear. “Just stop it! How is this any of your business anyway? My name has nothing to do with you. It’s my thing, and if I want to keep it private than I should have a right to do that!”

“Okay,” Asa said softly, suddenly subdued now. Benji couldn’t look at him directly, couldn’t stand to see the way Asa was staring at him, a stunned expression on his face like Benji had just sucker punched him. “I’m sorry, I – I didn’t mean to freak you out-”

“Is everything okay out here?” Ruth asked, emerging from the hallway in her pajamas and looking between the two of them with concern. “What’s with all the shouting?”

“Everything’s fine,” Benji bit out, rising quickly from the sofa. He stalked past Ruth and down the hall to his room, calling back over his shoulder, “I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.” and ignored the sound of Ruth calling after him.

Once the door was shut, Benji dropped heavily into the desk chair, spinning it in a one-eighty turn to face the old twin bed. His phone buzzed, so he pulled it out of his pocket and saw that there were a few unread messages from Victor.

I’ll sing after hours if you do 😉 tbh I’ve kinda been dying to hear you sing again ever since the first time. It’s a little ridiculous that one person can be both as talented and attractive as you are

Sorry was that too much?

Hope I didn’t upset you or something. Have a good night Benji

“f*ck,” Benji muttered under his breath, typing out a brief response (nothing more than “good night”) before locking the phone and dropping it onto the desk. His hair was falling into his face and he shoved it back roughly, trying to make himself focus on taking deep, calming breaths. He could hear the sound of his mother and Asa’s voices out in the living room, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Talking about him, no doubt, and the argument he’d just had with his brother. Benji stared at the dim room around him and felt as though it were staring back at him. He pulled his flask out of his back pocket and began to drink.

The drunker he got the more his mind began to feel untethered from reality. The sense that time wasn’t quite working correctly grew stronger; not as though time itself had ceased to exist but maybe that it all existed at once, all the hours and minutes of Benji’s life that had been spent between these four walls manifesting now in a great mass of thought and feeling and experience. The little room was crowded with it. Could a strong enough emotion become imprinted on a place somehow? If it could, Benji’s grief and his solitude had certainly left their mark here.

He needed a distraction. Benji picked his phone up again, popping in his earbuds and hitting play on the album he’d paused earlier. A song came on that he felt a strange sense of connection with, the mood of it matching the way he felt even though he had no idea what it was about. He checked the name and a quick Google search brought up an English translation of the lyrics.

He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Victor as he read the words, and about what his mother had said earlier that night. He couldn’t seem to get these lyrics out of his head. What would the song sound like if Victor sang it? Would he connect with it as strongly as Benji was connecting with it now?

My blood’s boiling, I’m burning up inside… La sangre está hirviendo, me quemo por dentro… el alma y el cuerpo… the soul and the body…

That was the feeling, that repetitive chorus of burning, burning, burning; those five minutes of burning and boiling set to a rhythm that Benji couldn’t stop hearing. It was what he was feeling right now, and what he felt whenever he was driven to work on the portrait, and what he felt every time he and Victor gave in to the need to take what was offered from the other before it was no longer there to be had.

Duró dos segundos el atardecer, sang the woman performing the song. The sunset lasted two seconds.

It was past midnight now and he’d heard the sounds of the other bedroom doors closing awhile earlier. Benji tried to lie down in his bed and rest, playing that song over and over in the hope that maybe it would distract him enough from the cloud of painful memories filling the room around him so that he could sleep. It didn’t work. Instead, the song seemed to be pushing him toward something, making him restless. His blood was boiling. There was a fire in his brain tonight that even the whiskey couldn’t soothe.

Benji got up, returned to the desk. There was an old notebook there, which he opened to a blank page, and then he grabbed a pen and began to write. The original song was five minutes long, so it had to be shortened, and it had to be modified in order to prevent the repetitive melody from becoming dull when performed with only a guitar. Despite being so long some parts of the original were also performed at a fast tempo that didn’t quite work with the acoustic version he wanted to create, so they had to be slowed down a little. He rewrote long sections of the tune, simplifying some parts and making others more complex while attempting to remain true to the original spirit of the song. It was a challenge but it was exactly what he needed then, and he was just drunk enough to feel the music, the creativity, flowing easily out of him, no inhibitions left to hold it back.

When the composition was finished he needed to play it to know if it would work and to be able to tweak whatever needed tweaking; so he grabbed his notes, his phone and his guitar case and slipped quietly out into the silent hallway. The doors to Ruth and Asa’s bedrooms were closed and according to the clock on the stove in the kitchen it was a little after one in the morning now. Benji grabbed his coat off the back of a dining room chair and headed out to the garage.

In a corner he found the same old navy blue camping chair that he’d always sat in as a teenager when he’d snuck out here on sleepless nights like this one. It was a little dusty but he brushed it off and unfolded it as far from the door leading into the house as possible, setting up his notes on an overturned bucket next to him and then pulling out his guitar. How many times had he done exactly this back in high school? He unscrewed the lid of the flask, taking a couple of shots before he got to work, and that too was just like the old days.

A few minutes of experimenting, a pause to scribble out a section of the notes and rewrite them, another few minutes of playing, another pause to edit, and so it went for a period of time impossible to quantify. Finally he felt happy enough with the tune and it was time to work in the lyrics. So far he’d been trying out the melody by softly singing along with snatches of the English translation, and continuing on in English would be easy, but it didn’t feel right. The song lost some of its beauty when it lost the rhyme and the aesthetic of its original language.

Benji’s knowledge of Spanish was rudimentary at best, but he had a good ear for sound, so he played the song over and over again on his phone as he stumbled along with the fast-paced lyrics. Once he was feeling confident in his pronunciation he began to sing the words to his own version of the melody as he played it on his guitar. It was easier when he didn’t have to keep up with the tongue-twisting speed of the band’s lead singer.

He played it out over and over again, stopping to edit as needed until it finally began to come together as a cohesive whole. That was one of his favorite parts of the entire song writing process – that moment when the lyrics and the sound of the instrument began to slot into place, like the seams of a jigsaw puzzle. After that it was simply a matter of practicing again and again and again until it felt easy, until it was memorized, until it was as close to perfect as he could get it.

And then it was done. Benji set his phone up on a shelf, propping it against an ancient can of paint. The time was three forty-five. He should be exhausted, and he knew he would be when this last task was finished; but for now the restless energy crackling through him had yet to burn out. Benji opened his camera app and hit record.

It took multiple attempts but finally some time after four in the morning he had a video he was satisfied with. He sat back in his chair, basking a little in the afterglow of the creative rush, and sipped whiskey until he felt his breathing begin to slow and his eyelids grow heavy.

The next thing he knew he was startling awake with a stiff neck and achingly cold limbs. His phone said it was five twenty-one. Benji tidied up quickly, tucking the old chair back into the corner, and went to bed at last. Completely exhausted and still more than just a little drunk, he slipped into a dreamless sleep unbothered by the gray walls of his childhood bedroom or the ghosts they harbored.

An insistent knocking on the door woke Benji on Christmas morning. He heard his mother call, “Aren’t you up yet? It’s after nine already. Breakfast will be done any minute now.”

Rubbing at his bleary eyes, Benji said, “I’m up. I’ll be there in a few.”

After a trip to the bathroom, Benji returned to his bed for a moment, sitting on the edge of the mattress and remembering the fever-like burn of insomnia from the night before. There was a good chance that, caught up in the moment and the spontaneity of it all, the song he’d recorded would be utter sh*t. It seemed like whatever he produced on nights like that always had a fifty-fifty chance of either being complete trash or one of his best works.

Benji grabbed his phone, put in his headphones, and hit play.

It was good. Shockingly good, in fact. So good he should probably share it with the band so they could consider adding it to one of their sets even though it was a pretty far cry from what they normally played. But this song wasn’t for the band, and he doubted that he’d ever play it for anyone other than the one person it had been written for.

He typed out a text message.

Merry Christmas Victor. It’s not much, but consider this song a gift in exchange for the one you gave me. And now I guess you can hear me sing whenever you like.

Without giving himself a chance to reconsider, Benji hit send, followed by the video a moment later. Then he tucked the phone into the pocket of his pajama pants and headed out to a quiet, awkward breakfast with his family. Asa barely spoke to him, but he seemed more hurt than angry, and Ruth tried to fill in every silence with an unending flow of commentary on the food and the weather and anything else she could think of.

Benji’s phone buzzed a half an hour later when he was seated on the couch sipping coffee and watching his mother open a present from Asa. Christmas carols were playing softly on the TV and someone had turned on the flashing lights that spiraled up the tiny fake tree perched on a table in the corner of the room. The winking rainbow of bright color fading in and out of his vision made the throbbing in his skull ache just that little bit more.

Benji… thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say
Everything about that was incredible… your voice and the guitar and the song itself, it’s just all so unbelievably beautiful. You really are one of the most talented people I’ve ever met.
Thank you ❤️

That little red heart. Benji’s eyes couldn’t look away from it. Benji breathed in and out and his pulse raced and his eyes looked and looked and looked.

Light brown, somewhat wavy hair that was receding just slightly and carried only a few hints of gray. Average height; taller than Benji although that wasn’t saying much. A little bit of a belly but otherwise a fairly healthy looking man. Laugh lines around the eyes and mouth. A button up blue shirt and a pair of tan slacks, nice enough but not expensive.

Nice enough seemed to sum up just about everything when it came to Dan.

Benji didn’t really see the appeal. Yes, Dan seemed like a gentleman, and like an easy-going guy, and someone most people would be comfortable with their mother dating. Yes, he had a decent job doing some kind of office work, and yes Benji could see that he wasn’t entirely unattractive for a man in his fifties. He just seemed so… average. Like there was nothing particularly special about him. Like there was no good reason for him to be here seated across from Benji at the dining room table in the chair that had once belonged to Paul.

At some point since Ruth had told them about Dan, Asa had clearly made his peace with it, because he’d been making polite conversation all evening and even occasionally laughing at Dan’s jokes. And this was despite the fact that Asa had been quiet all day until Dan had arrived, present but avoiding interaction with Benji, hardly looking him in the eye whenever they did speak. Now it was Benji who was being the moody one and barely participating in the conversation over dinner. Now it was Benji was was avoiding eye contact and slipping off to his room or the bathroom whenever he could for another chance to soothe his nerves. Now it was Benji who wasn’t okay.

“How old did you say your daughter was? Twenty-three?” Asa asked as he accepted the bowl of mashed potatoes from Dan and helped himself to a second serving.

“Twenty-two,” Dan corrected. “Same as Benji, isn’t that right?”

Benji just nodded and pressed his lips together in an approximation of a smile before reaching for his glass of wine. He drained nearly half of it in one long sip and pointedly ignored the way Asa was staring at him.

“Rachel’s studying Economics,” Ruth said, as proudly as if it were her own daughter and not some complete stranger. “In Seattle.”

“Yep, graduating this June,” Dan announced. “She’ll probably come back here in the summer to visit, so maybe you boys will get a chance to meet her then.”

“Poor thing, returning to Georgia at that time of the year. Hope it won’t be too much of a shock to her system after four years in the northwest.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine, she’ll probably spend most of her time catching up with her old high school friends indoors anyway. Big fan of air conditioning, my girl,” Dan joked.

“Ugh, who isn’t with the kind of humidity we get around here,” Ruth complained, and then on went the conversation, dragging inanely through topics like the weather and the best ways to escape the heat in the summer and what Rachel might end up doing after graduation. Benji emptied his glass and was halfway through the next before he couldn’t take any more of it and excused himself to the bathroom again. It had probably only been twenty or thirty minutes since the last time he did that, but at this point he didn’t really care what anyone thought about it.

Once there he sat on the toilet with the lid down, drinking until everything took on a soft glow. He wavered a little on his feet as he stood up, reaching out to steady himself on the counter. His head swam. He was so f*cking tired. Beyond the door he could just make out the story Dan was telling about his trip to visit Rachel in Seattle the previous fall.

When the meal was finally finished, Benji used the excuse of tidying up to avoid further conversation with Dan who was now chatting with Asa out in the living room. Ruth was putting the left overs away in the fridge while Benji loaded the dishwasher, and about five minutes into the process he startled both of them by accidentally knocking a plate off the counter. It hit the floor with a noisy crash, shattering instantly into dozens of tiny porcelain shards.

“sh*t,” Benji swore. “Sorry-”

He began to step back, planning to go get the broom, when Ruth reached over and grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Stay there,” she ordered. “You’re only wearing socks, you might end up cutting your feet if you’re not careful. Let me get it.”

She swept the mess up quickly and dumped it into the trash while Benji simply stood there feeling stupid. Asa called out, “Is everything okay?” from the sofa, so Ruth shouted back, “Fine, just a broken plate.”

Just before she put the broom away, Ruth’s eyes met his. There was something unreadable in them – or maybe it was nothing; maybe it was Benji’s drunken state making him see things that weren’t really there. It was so difficult to tell just then. Benji looked away, turning back finally to finish his task.

Dan eventually left around eleven and shortly after that the rest of them all said their goodnight’s and headed off to their respective rooms. Benji lay on his old mattress, the ceiling above him spinning as his body struggled with a nauseating combination of exhaustion and drunkenness. He desperately wanted to just sleep it all off, but as usual his brain wouldn’t cooperate when it was trapped in this room, in this house. His mind chased itself in circles – Paul, Dan, Victor, Asa’s questions, the look in his mother’s eyes…

After what might have been minutes or possibly hours of tossing and turning, Benji finally dragged himself wearily out of bed and out to the living room. He paused for a moment to stare at the armchair, the one which had once been Paul’s; the one which had been occupied by a new man earlier that evening, a blander, older, deeply average man. A stranger.

Benji flopped down into it himself and removed the cap from his flask. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and stared blankly at a shadowy corner of the room and drank. Over and over again in spirals his mind thought of Paul, Dan, Victor, Asa, Ruth… Victor, over and over, Victor… Me quemo por dentro…

He didn’t hear the footsteps in the hallway. He didn’t know she was there until he heard his mother’s voice cut through the thick silence.

“Benji?”

Was that fear he heard in the way she said his name? Benji rushed to tuck the flask away, but it was already too late for that.

Ruth stepped quietly into the room and stared down at him with a clenched jaw and eyes that glittered with what Benji thought might be heartbreak. Or maybe it was betrayal? Disappointment? That was probably it, that last one. That was what it usually was.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I just came out for a night cap,” Benji mumbled, working hard to keep the words even, to avoid slurring them, for whatever good that would do him now.

“Is that something you do frequently?” Ruth asked with narrowed eyes.

“No, I just-”

“Don’t bother answering that,” she interrupted. Her lower lip trembled as she held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

Benji stared up at her, too drunk to process what was really happening, too drunk to be as scared as he should be. Dumbly, he held out the flask to her as instructed, and she took it from him.

“Go to bed,” Ruth said, her tone leaving no room for discussion. “Go sleep this off. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“I’m fine, Mom, really-”

“I said, we’ll talk in the morning. I can’t do this right now, not with you sitting there like that, just like he used to-” Ruth cut herself off, bringing her free hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. She inhaled deeply, roughly. “Just go to bed, Benji. Please.”

Benji got up from his seat and silently left the room, only stumbling a little as he passed through the door and closed it behind him. As always in this house, in this bed, sleep was a long time coming for him. Benji shut his eyes tightly and pretended not to hear the faint sound of crying from the other side of the wall.

Chapter 13: Countdown

Chapter Text

The day after Christmas Benji woke in the early morning and barely made it into the bathroom before he was retching. Stabbing pain lanced through his skull with each heave of his stomach. As he was resting with his head hung between his knees next to the toilet sometime later, the night before came back to him. Dan. Asa’s hurt silence. The dinner at which Benji had consumed more wine than food. Insomnia again. An unknown period of time spent sitting in the darkness of the living room drinking an unknown quantity of whiskey… and then Ruth.

He had to leave.

Benji pushed himself up onto his feet and rinsed his mouth out with some water from the sink. He brushed his teeth quickly and then returned to his room, hurrying to dress himself and gather up what few belongings he’d brought with him. Guitar case, messenger bag stuffed with clothes, the old notebook in which he’d worked on the song for Victor, jacket, cell phone and charger. He had his wallet and his keys. Benji slipped silently out of the room, swallowing down another wave of nausea, and found his boots by the front door. The clock on the wall read six oh-five.

It was an overcast morning but even the dim gray sunlight was a brutal assault on his senses, making him squint his eyes and grip the steering wheel with bloodless knuckles. He had to pull over into the parking lot of a Burger King to throw up again. On the road near his apartment the blare of a horn from the car behind him shocked him back to awareness, the red light he’d been stopped at now green, so he hit the gas and tried not to think about the fact that he’d been drifting again.

He dropped everything on the floor near the table when he got back to his place, kicking his shoes off at the door and shrugging off his jacket. He stepped out of his jeans next and finally crawled into bed. Before going to sleep, he sent a text message to his mom and then put his phone on ‘do not disturb’ mode.

Hey sorry to leave so early but someone just called in sick at work and I have to cover. I didn’t mean to worry you last night. I promise I’m fine and we’ll talk soon.

When he woke up hours later, there were unread texts from Lake and Asa, and a voicemail from his mom. Guiltily Benji swiped them all away and went to take a shower. He turned the water on and began to shed his clothes, but the moment he passed by the bathroom mirror he found himself suddenly stopping dead in his tracks.

It couldn’t be possible. It made no sense.

He craned his head down to examine the ink of his tattoo more closely, his heart thudding an anxious beat, but what he’d seen in the lightly fogged glass was the same thing he could see now, mere inches away from his naked eyes.

Where there had once been three arrows, there were now only two, and rising just above a dip in the vine curling around the shafts was the dark curving top of an upper case S.

“You look like sh*t,” Sarah said bluntly when Benji came in for his closing shift on Tuesday. She narrowed her eyes at him. “If you’re sick you should’ve called in.”

“I’m not sick,” Benji told her as he tied the strings of his apron and headed out toward the front. “I was feeling a little under the weather yesterday but I’m much better today. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“It better not be. The last thing I need is you spreading germs around to the rest of the staff so we end up with multiple people out at once.”

Benji shook his head at her dramatics and repeated, “Seriously, Sarah. I’m not sick.”

“All right, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Victor was already out behind the counter, rinsing the blender at the sink. He looked up in concern when he overheard Benji and Sarah’s conversation, and Benji must have looked pretty bad after all because now Victor’s eyes were going wide with surprise.

Once Sarah had left Victor stepped close to Benji and asked quietly, “Are you really okay?”

“Yes,” Benji said firmly, moving back to put a little more space between them as some customers came into the cafe. “I just had a stomach bug yesterday but I’m fine now.”

Victor nodded reluctantly and went back to work, but he continued to send quick, worried glances in Benji’s direction whenever he thought Benji wasn’t looking.

The truth was that yesterday he’d spent the morning at a tattoo parlor, getting his ink touched up and additional details added. Details which had been there before and should have been there still; details which had disappeared mysteriously in a bizarrely short span of time. He’d ended up late to band practice after that, which Derek had chewed him out for, and once that was done he’d had a guitar lesson near the Creekwood campus and didn’t get home until around eight o’clock in the evening. The rest of the night had been spent drinking far more than he should have as he sent back halfhearted replies to his mother’s and Lake’s attempts at contacting him, and finally responded to Asa’s apology text. He’d worked more on the portrait while he drank, fleshing out the finer details until finally crashing around three or four a. m. The sight of Victor’s bright eyes peering out at him from the painting when he woke up hungover that morning had made him feel strangely raw, and he’d had to drape a spare sheet over it just to settle his nerves.

Ever since he’d stayed up late writing the song for Victor, insomnia had returned again and again to plague him. In the past four days he’d probably only slept three or four hours each night, and even then his sleep was disjointed and restless from all the stress and alcohol constantly buzzing through his system. He was burning the candle at both ends and he knew it, but he’d f*cked up so badly with his mom and Lake, and his tattoo had faded for no reason he could understand, and whatever was happening between him and Victor had him simultaneously desperate for more and desperately wanting to run away.

These days it felt like everything in his life was starting to slowly and inexorably fall apart. Benji wasn’t sure if he felt more like a victim or a hapless bystander.

And now here was the real Victor, watching him with those bright brown eyes, a worry in them that seemed to imply he could somehow see all of it. All the stress and the fear and the sleepless nights, all the hiding and the lies and the guilt, and even though it was Victor’s compassion that Benji deserved the least, Victor was nevertheless the most willing to give it.

The afternoon passed by slowly. Benji’s headache lasted until nearly five o’clock, despite his efforts to drown it out with caffeine and alcohol from the new flask he’d purchased at the liquor store near his apartment. Around five thirty Benji took his fifteen minute break, and spent it sitting at the table in the locker room sipping a cappuccino and reading a book since he didn’t want to look at his phone. About ten minutes in, raised voices from the main room had him hurrying back out again to see what was wrong.

There were two women standing near the cash register facing Victor, one of them looking on in agitation as the other berated him in a tone of voice that was nearly a shout.

“This is clearly not what I ordered, any idiot can see that-” the taller, graying-blond woman insisted, holding a take-out cup forward for Victor to see with the lid removed.

“I’m just in the middle of helping someone else at the moment, but I will be right with you,” Victor said, gesturing to the other woman nearby. He turned to her and began speaking rapidly in Spanish. Benji couldn’t understand what Victor was saying but it seemed like he was probably apologizing for the interruption. The woman responded in Spanish and Victor began entering her order into the computer.

“Where is your manager?” the blond demanded. “I was here first, so you should be remaking my order correctly right now instead of wasting even more of my time-”

“As I said, I’ll be right with you-” Victor began, but didn’t get a chance to finish as the blond interrupted him again.

“Did you even understand what I just said about not wasting my time? Jesus christ, learn to speak English-”

Benji stepped up beside Victor just then and even though his intention had been to quietly deescalate the situation, the woman’s sneering face and blatant racism had him suddenly losing his temper in a way he never did. “Obviously Victor speaks English perfectly considering that’s what he’s been using to communicate with you in this entire time,” Benji snapped, “and the one who is clearly incapable of understanding a simple request to just wait a f*cking minute is you.”

For a second the three other people at the counter just stood there and gaped at Benji in shock, Victor especially, but then the blond woman’s face flushed a splotchy red with outrage.

“f*ck you,” she bit out, slamming her coffee down hard enough on the counter that the cup tipped over and the contents sloshed out all over the surface, some of it running rapidly off the side and dripping all over Benji and Victor’s shoes. They both stepped back quickly to avoid further damage as the woman snarled, “I am never setting foot in this cafe ever again, and you had better believe I’ll tell everyone I know exactly what happened here today-”

“Feel free,” Benji shot back loudly, feeling his own cheeks reddening in fury, “we don’t serve racists here anyway.”

“Oh, so now it’s racist to expect people to speak English in this country? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, it’s pretty f*cking racist to try to dictate what language other people are allowed to speak!” Benji shouted, and he was about to demand that the woman leave but before he could a quiet voice spoke up.

“I learn English,” the shorter woman said, the words heavily accented and a little shaky from how clearly upset she was. “I learn but is no easy for me. I come here since last month.” She looked to Victor, swallowing thickly, and began to speak in Spanish again. A moment later she turned and headed for the door, but before she could get there Victor had raced around the counter and caught up with her. The tall blond woman huffed in annoyance, muttering a curse under her breath before she stomped away. No one bothered to try and stop her from leaving, and a number of other customers in the room looked relieved that she’d finally gone.

As Benji stood there watching Victor speak comfortingly with the dark-haired woman, Dave’s voice suddenly startled him out of his thoughts.

“Holy sh*t, what just happened there?”

Benji turned to stare at him in surprise. He hadn’t even realized that Dave had come in to start his shift yet. He was still in a regular shirt, no apron or anything, so he must have just walked in while Benji was distracted by the argument.

“That customer was being a racist piece of trash so I asked her to leave,” Benji explained tersely.

Dave shook his head. “I mean, not really, dude. Not unless ‘asked her to leave’ is code for ‘completely lost my sh*t and told a paying customer to go f*ck herself’. It was pretty badass, actually. I’m impressed. I just didn’t know it was even possible for you to lose your temper like that.”

Benji didn’t really know what to say to that, and he still felt like his entire body was vibrating with anger, so he just continued to stand there and draw in deep, calming breaths. A minute later Victor returned to the counter with the dark-haired woman, still speaking gently with her in Spanish as he went to work making a latte for her.

“I’m so sorry,” Benji told her. “Your coffee is on the house, okay? That means it’s free.”

She looked a little puzzled so Victor interpreted as he handed over the drink. A small, hesitant smile spread across her face. “Thank you,” she said, glancing between both of them. Benji still felt awful about what had happened, so he reached into the pastry case and bagged up a chocolate chip cookie for her as well. When he passed it over the counter to her she looked close to tears, quietly repeating “Thank you” once more before she left.

Victor and Benji wiped down their sticky shoes with damp paper towels and then the three of them went back to work. Nothing more was said about what had happened until later that night when it was just Victor and Benji alone in the empty cafe.

They had finished all of the closing tasks to the sound of one of Benji’s playlists without speaking much, but just before they were about to head into the locker room, Victor leaned against the outer edge of the counter and said, “Hey, um. About earlier…”

Benji looked over at him, surprised by the way Victor seemed nervous to make eye contact. “I am so sorry, Victor. I can’t believe how rude that woman was to you.”

Victor let out a tired sigh. “Honestly, it’s not like it’s the first time something like that has ever happened. And you don’t need to apologize for it, but uh… Look, I really appreciate what you were trying to do earlier. I know you wanted to stand up for me and that other customer, but the thing is you kind of just jumped in there and got really angry without letting either of us try to defend ourselves first, and then it made the situation worse.” He glanced up warily, as though to gauge Benji’s reaction, and whatever he saw made him feel confident enough to continue. “It sucks when someone doubts my ability to speak English, but it kind of doesn’t help things when someone else jumps in and doesn’t give me a chance to speak for myself. I know you meant well, but it might have been better if you had been a little calmer about supporting me and not just, uh-”

“Gone totally crazy and practically screamed at a customer?” Benji finished for him. Victor bit his lip on an awkward half-smile, and Benji cringed. “God, I feel like such an idiot. You’re totally right, I should’ve let you handle it and just been there to back you up if you needed it. I am really, really sorry, Victor-”

Victor pushed away from the counter and walked up to him, his hand coming to rest on Benji’s upper arm. He gave it a gentle squeeze and then ran his palm downward until he found Benji’s, slowly lacing their fingers together.

Benji stared down at their interwoven hands and suddenly felt as though he couldn’t remember how to breathe. Of all the things he’d done with other men over the years… He was pretty sure he had never once just let someone hold his hand like this before.

His eyes began to burn and for a moment he was worried that he might cry.

“Thank you for caring so much,” Victor said softly, as Benji kept his head down turned. “I like that you wanted to protect me. I like that you tried to make that woman feel a little better after what had happened to her. You’re a really kind person, Benji, so just hold onto that kindness in the future and let that be your guide, okay?”

Benji didn’t trust himself to speak just then, so he simply nodded, and a moment later Victor was tugging him forward into a kiss. It was soft and sweet and dangerously slow, slow in a way their physical encounters rarely ever were; just the achingly gentle press of Victor’s warm mouth against his, Victor’s palm to his palm, Victor’s touch teaching him how to breathe again.

They ended up at Benji’s apartment that night because Lake was out of town and therefore they couldn’t ask Felix to stay at her place again. It was a mess, as always, but fortunately the portrait at least was hidden from view by the sheet Benji had thrown over it earlier that day. Victor frowned a little when he noticed the pile of empties near the trash can from Benji’s most recent round of binge drinking, but Benji explained it away by claiming he’d had an after-Christmas party with his band mates on Sunday night.

“So that was your ‘stomach bug’ from yesterday I’m guessing,” Victor said with an amused snort, and Benji just nodded along, pulling Victor with him toward the bed before he could ask any questions about it.

Everything felt so different, and Benji was scared to let himself consider why, because if he did he might panic, and he might put a stop to it, and the last thing he wanted just then was to stop. Instead he dragged Victor’s shirt over his head and tossed it aside, running his palms across Victor’s ribs and down to the slight outward jut of his hipbones. Victor pushed him back until Benji was sitting on the bed and then lowered himself into Benji’s lap, moving so slowly, his lips teasing Benji’s lips with barely there kisses as his fingers got tangled up in the long strands of Benji’s hair. Benji’s hold on his hips went suddenly tight as Victor rocked down against him and he had to bury his face against the side of Victor’s neck to muffle his groan.

They kissed and kissed until they were both breathless and aching from the drawn out pace, and then Victor asked, a little shyly, a flush riding high on his cheeks, “Um, do you ever, you know… Do you ever like to switch it up?”

Benji stared at him in surprise for just a moment. “You mean do I ever like to top?”

Victor nodded silently in response, eyes flicking to Benji’s and away again nervously.

“Yeah,” Benji said carefully. “I don’t do it often, but yeah, I like that sometimes. Are you – is that what you want tonight?”

Again Victor nodded, and this time he said quietly but with certainty, “Yeah. If it’s okay with you, uh… I’d really like that.”

As with everything else that night, they took it slowly, Victor admitting that he’d only ever done this once before. His trust in Benji was making Benji feel guilty and afraid, but if he allowed himself to dwell on those negative emotions they were going to drag them both down and ruin this, and that would hurt Victor, and Benji had hurt him enough already. So he took his time making sure it would be good for Victor instead, trying to prove to himself that he could be at least a little bit worthy of the trust Victor had placed in him.

And god it was good to see Victor like that, falling apart beneath his hands, rocking back eagerly on Benji’s fingers with his lips slightly parted and his gaze heavy-lidded. Benji could have done nothing more than that and been satisfied, Victor’s breathy gasps and his hands tugging at the sheets and the beautiful arch of his back getting Benji so close already. When he finally did push carefully inside it was almost too much. Not just the tight heat of Victor’s body but the way he was looking up at Benji, something in his eyes that Benji couldn’t allow himself to name. He wasn’t ready for it, for any of this, but it was here irregardless and Benji was wrapped up in it just as deep as he could get.

Me quemo por dentro, me quemo, me quemo… Benji heard chanted in the back of his mind, leaning down as Victor tilted his head up so their mouths could meet again, the kiss as languid and unhurried as the movement of Benji’s hips. He was burning up inside, but it was a slower burn than any he’d ever allowed himself to feel before. A richer, stronger heat, like the burn of bright embers at the very heart of a fire. Me quemo, me quemo…

For the first time in four days, there was no insomnia that night, no tossing and turning, no alcohol-fueled bursts of creativity that bordered on madness. Just Victor’s back pressed warmly against his chest and the even sound of his breathing, Benji’s arm curled over his side to keep him close. Benji fell into a dreamless sleep with his lips lightly touching the delicate skin at the nape of Victor’s neck.

In the morning Benji woke to an empty bed and the sight of Victor across the room, standing near the table in just his underwear. The long, dark line of Benji’s name stood out starkly against the light brown skin of his bare back and for a moment that was all that Benji could focus on, and he didn’t even realize what it was that Victor was doing.

But then finally he noticed – Victor’s outstretched hand, lifting up a corner of the white sheet draped over the portrait of himself. The fabric was wavering slightly, as though Victor’s hand might be trembling just a little.

Several minutes passed in which Benji watched Victor watch the image, his heart beating out a panicked rhythm within his chest. Then Victor began to turn, and not knowing what else to do, Benji closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

Victor returned to the bed, lying down carefully on his back so as not to disturb Benji. After a minute or two, Benji pretended to sleepily roll onto his other side facing the wall and Victor slotted in behind him, his arm draped over Benji’s waist, and they spent a while longer just resting there together like that while Benji’s mind chased itself in circles. What would he say if Victor asked him about the painting? What explanation could he possibly give?

He could think of nothing, and when they both ‘woke’ sometime later – Benji stirring at the press of Victor’s lips along his neck and shoulder – it felt as though there were now a time-bomb ticking between them, counting down to a question that might ruin everything. If Victor demanded answers Benji knew that he would panic, that his fear and guilt would consume him and he would do what he always did, which was hide and lie and find some excuse to run away. But as the morning went on, as they kissed and had sex again and got up and showered, as they dressed and then brought toast and coffee back to the bed, Benji waited, and waited, and although it seemed at times like he would, Victor never asked.

They were leaning back against the headboard shoulder to shoulder sipping their coffees when Victor put forward a different question.

“Do you speak any Spanish?”

Benji shook his head. “No, not really. I mean, I know a few words but that’s it. I took German in high school.”

“So you just memorized the words for that song then?”

“Yeah,” Benji admitted, beginning to feel a little nervous. “There were a lot of repeated phrases, so it wasn’t actually very difficult.”

“Well, your pronunciation was great for someone who doesn’t speak the language.” Victor bit his lip, a little uncertain. “Did you, um… did you read a translation or anything?”

Victor wasn’t looking at him, and the moment felt suddenly charged, as though there was a lot riding on Benji’s answer. He didn’t know what to say, and all he could think about was the fact that Victor had just seen the portrait, and Benji already felt so horribly exposed. It might as well have been his heart lying vulnerable beneath that sheet on the other side of the room, with all of Benji’s secrets laid bare before Victor’s eyes.

“No,” Benji lied, pretending to be a little embarrassed about it, “I mean, I mostly just liked the sound of the song, so I found the lyrics in Spanish, but I couldn’t find an English version. It, uh… it wasn’t about anything stupid, was it?”

Victor finally dragged his gaze away from his coffee and looked searchingly at Benji for a moment. Benji held his breath and waited, wondering if Victor would see through the lie, and something in his eyes made Benji believe that he had. But if so he didn’t acknowledge it, saying simply, “No, definitely not anything stupid. It’s a really beautiful song, actually… Maybe I’ll translate it for you sometime.”

“That’d be great,” Benji answered, a little weakly, and finally felt himself relax when Victor asked him next about a book he was reading. They talked about nothing else important that morning, and Victor never brought up the portrait, but the sense that they were now on even more limited time remained, and faintly in the back of his mind Benji could hear the ticking of some internal clock.

On Thursday night they worked another closing shift with Dave, and when he suggested going out for drinks after work both Victor and Benji agreed. It was a particularly cold night, and Benji’s leather jacket wasn’t quite cutting it, so he couldn’t help walking just a little closer to Victor than he usually did in public. Their arms and shoulders kept brushing against each other the entire way over to The Cheerful Tortoise, and sometimes the back of Victor’s hand would rest against Benji’s for a second or two in a way that clearly wasn’t accidental. It should have freaked Benji out, and maybe it did a little, but it was just subtle enough that no one was likely to notice it and there was no way for Victor to know that Benji’s heart skipped a beat each time it happened.

Inside the sports bar the atmosphere was warm and noisy, dozens of voices all speaking over each other in competition with the sounds of glasses thudding on tables and pool balls clacking loudly against each other. After ordering a couple of beers for themselves, Victor and Benji found Dave and Becca seated at a booth just like the last time they’d come.

“Hey guys, how have you been?” Becca asked. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Yeah, it was nice,” Benji said noncommittally, not really wanting to get into any of the details of how the holiday had actually been. Victor was equally vague as he smiled and said, “It was good. I just hung out here with my sister and best friend. How was Portland?”

Dave and Becca launched into a story about their trip to see Dave’s family there, and the way they’d reacted to meeting Becca for the first time.

“We’re not soulmates, as you probably already know,” Becca pointed out, gesturing to the name on her forearm which was visible at the moment since she had the sleeves of her flannel shirt pushed up past her elbows. “So I think Dave’s parents had some reservations about our relationship because of that, but in the end they were actually really welcoming. And Portland was great, we had such a good time there. I’d been kinda worried it wouldn’t live up to all the hype, but…”

“Told you it was amazing,” Dave said with a fond smile. “Soon as we graduate, we’re moving out there. I can’t take any more of the Georgia heat anyway.”

“So, did you ever end up getting that coffee with Julie?” Becca asked Victor sometime later, after they’d finished catching up on what everyone had done over the holiday.

He looked at her blankly for just a second as if he couldn’t place the name and then answered, “Oh, uh, no. We’ve chatted after class a few times but no coffee or anything.”

Dave took a sip of his beer and asked a little too casually, “Not your type?”

Benji tensed up at the question and felt Victor do the same beside him. For a while now Dave had been acting strangely around them, observing their interactions a little too closely and giving Benji long, considering looks sometimes as though there was something he was trying to figure out. Benji could guess what it was Dave was wondering about, especially after the suspicions Dave had voiced about Victor earlier in the month. He took a long drink of his beer in an attempt to drown out his anxiety.

“Not really,” Victor admitted. He swallowed nervously, his mouth opening to say something more. For just a second, Benji’s heart stopped as he realized that Victor might actually tell Dave and Becca the truth, that he might really come out to them just as he’d come out to everyone at the party the week before. But then Victor’s eyes cut quickly over to Benji and he paused. When he did speak all that he said was, “She seems nice but I don’t have time for dating right now, not with school and work and basketball…”

He’d had time to spend nearly every night he possibly could with Benji recently, Benji’s traitorous brain reminded him, and he quickly banished all thoughts of their nights together. That was the absolute last thing he needed to be thinking about at this moment. He relaxed into his seat a little in guilty relief now that the danger had passed. Even though coming out should be Victor’s personal choice and shouldn’t have anything to do with Benji, they both knew that wasn’t entirely the case. It was Benji’s name on the back of Victor’s neck, the ‘B’ visible at work just above the strap of his apron, and Victor openly admitting that he was gay to one of their coworkers would just make it that little bit easier for someone like Dave to put the pieces together.

And what might happen if he did? This was Benji’s job hanging in the balance – it was not only his livelihood but also the place where he’d spent the majority of his time for two years now. In a lot of ways Brasstown had begun to feel like his second home, especially considering that there were weeks when he spent more time at the cafe than he did in his apartment. And all it might take for Benji to lose it would be a few words from Dave to Sarah or another coworker.

It wasn’t that Benji knew for certain how Sarah would react. It was entirely possible that she wouldn’t care, but it was also just as likely that she would, and he wasn’t ready to lose his job over this.

The topic of conversation shifted to Victor’s upcoming basketball game after that, fortunately, and then a few minutes later there was a girl walking up to their table. She was average height with long, wavy dark hair and light brown skin, and Benji recognized her immediately from Victor’s photos.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight,” Pilar said as they all looked over at her in surprise.

“We just finished up a little while ago,” Victor explained. He looked to Dave and Becca as he introduced everyone, nervously avoiding eye contact with Benji. “Uh, this is my sister, Pilar. That’s my coworker Dave and his girlfriend, Becca, and this is Benji, the, uh, assistant manager at the cafe.”

Pilar gave a polite smile to the others as they were introduced, but as soon as she heard Benji’s name her eyes went wide. Benji nodded a little in greeting and then glanced away uncomfortably. She obviously knew who he was and he wondered just how much Victor had told her about what had been going on with them recently. Did she know that they were sleeping together on a pretty regular basis now? Did she know about the lie Benji had told Victor? Felix had said that it was mainly just himself and Pilar that Victor confided in, so the chances were good that she knew about all of it.

“Come join us,” Dave offered, making Benji’s anxiety instantly grow that much worse. He felt like he’d just dodged a bullet when Victor had answered the question about Julie, and now here was Victor’s sister showing up to put all of their secrets at risk yet again.

Benji and Victor slid down the booth so Pilar could join them, Benji’s nerves ratcheting up now that he was seated near the wall and feeling even more trapped in this awkward situation. Becca asked Pilar a question about what she was studying, and then everyone began to make small talk for a while as Benji sat there in the corner steadily draining what was left of his beer. The one good thing about the arrangement was that at least it was difficult for him and Pilar to see each other, sitting on the same side of the bench with Victor between them.

Victor continued to seem almost as nervous about his sister joining them as Benji was, stumbling over his words when he spoke and laughing a little too loudly. Dave was shooting them both thoughtful looks again, and at some point the conversation came around to Brasstown, Victor sharing a story about the annoying teenagers that came in from time to time. A moment later Dave said, “Speaking of sh*tty customers, we just had one of the sh*ttiest ones of all time on Tuesday. Right guys?”

Victor and Benji both nodded but didn’t elaborate, so Becca asked, “Why? What happened?”

“This woman was complaining about her order and wouldn’t give me time to finish someone else’s before I could deal with her,” Victor explained. “She was being really rude and impatient, that’s all.”

“And super racist about it,” Dave added.

“What do you mean?” Pilar asked sharply.

“The other customer I’d been helping didn’t speak much English so I was talking with her in Spanish, and then this woman was weird about it,” Victor said, sounding a little reluctant to rehash the whole thing. “She didn’t say anything I haven’t heard before.”

Pilar let out an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah, and then our assistant manager here totally lost his sh*t defending Victor’s honor. I’ve never seen him get so worked up over anything before. I mean, working in a service industry you always have to deal with some nasty people, but this guy is always one hundred percent cool and collected,” Dave said, nodding toward Benji. “Except apparently not when someone insults his favorite employee.”

Everyone except for Victor was now staring at Benji, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried his best not to glare in Dave’s direction. “She was being horrible to both Victor and that other customer,” Benji pointed out quietly. “I know I shouldn’t have shouted at her like that, though.”

“Maybe not, but you got her to leave, and you cheered up the other woman,” Victor countered in Benji’s defense. “You were just trying to do the right thing.”

Benji stared down at his empty glass and tried to ignore the feeling of everyone continuing to watch him. Out of the corner of his eye he could make out Pilar leaning forward a little as well, in order to get a better look a him. His heart began thudding hard and heavy against his chest, like the pounding of a fist. He needed to get out of there.

“Sorry, I just wanna go get another real quick,” Benji told the others, gesturing toward his empty glass. Victor and Pilar got up, allowing him to slide out of the booth. “I’ll be right back.”

Just before he turned away, he caught Pilar staring at him with narrowed eyes.

Benji hurried off to the crowded bar, desperate for another drink. The bartender had just handed Benji a gin and tonic when a cheerful voice called out, “Oh, hey Benji!”

Benji looked over to see Sam, a former Brasstown employee and Creekwood student, walking up to him. “Hey, man.”

“It’s been forever,” Sam said, “how have you been?”

Benji could not have been more grateful to run into someone he knew. He lingered at the bar for as long as possible, making small talk with Sam and getting through two G and T’s in the meantime while studiously avoiding looking toward the booth where Victor and the others were sitting. Benji was about to order a third drink when Sam paused in the middle of describing a class he was taking and glanced curiously over Benji’s shoulder.

“Uh, hi,” Sam said a little awkwardly.

Benji was half-expecting to find Victor, but when he turned around it was Pilar who was standing there. She gave Benji and Sam a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Benji, do you have a minute?” she asked, tone deceptively polite. It didn’t really sound like a request.

Sam shot Benji a knowing smile, no doubt assuming there was some kind of history between Benji and Pilar, which just made Pilar raise her brows slightly at them. Benji resisted the urge to wince uncomfortably. Sam bumped his shoulder lightly as he passed, saying, “Have a good night, man. Hopefully we can catch up again sometime.”

As soon as Sam had left, Pilar opened her mouth to say something, but Benji quickly interrupted. “Not here,” he said, a little pleadingly.

“Fine, let’s go outside then,” Pilar said shortly. She turned on her heel and headed immediately for the door without bothering to check if Benji was following. He did, somewhat reluctantly, and as he stepped out onto the dark sidewalk the night felt even colder than it had earlier when he’d walked over with Victor, making him miss the warmth of Victor’s body close to his.

They moved down the street a ways, putting some distance between themselves and the people coming and going from the entrance of the bar. After a minute or two Pilar stopped, and turned to face him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes narrowed again as she looked him over, silently passing judgment, and Benji knew that he deserved every bit of the contempt that she leveled at him a moment later.

When Pilar spoke, her voice was as cold as the wind making the hair rise at the back of his neck.

“I think it’s time you and I had a little talk.”

Chapter 14: Leaves of Wire

Chapter Text

“Benji! Benji, look!”

It had been a fickle spring day, probably sometime around March or April. All afternoon brief periods of sunshine had been interspersed with rain showers, which burst forth from the overcast skies with barely a moment’s notice to flood the streets and hammer against the roof of the house. Ever since he’d gotten home from school, Benji had been hanging out in the garage practicing a new song for the band. He remembered that he’d been drinking a bottle of soda spiked with some vodka that he’d acquired at a party the previous weekend. That was how he’d gotten most of his booze as a teenager; by slipping a bottle into his jacket and sneaking it home with him whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He was already pretty drunk by the time Asa came racing out to find him, shouting excitedly.

“What’s up?” Benji asked, turning to look at his twelve year old brother, and squinting blearily when Asa thrust his wrist forward suddenly. He’d had a hard time making his eyes focus so all he’d been able to see was a dark blur against Asa’s pale skin. “What’s that? A bruise?”

“No,” Asa said impatiently. “Can’t you see the letters? They’re a little bit fuzzy still but you can definitely read it now. I finally got it! I wasn’t sure if it was really my name or not at first, but it totally is – look!”

Benji tried to read it, but all he could make out were the capital letters. “Oh… oh what?”

“What is wrong with you? Did you forget how to read all of a sudden?” Asa rolled his eyes. “It’s says Olivia. Olivia Jane Thomas. That’s her name. My soulmate’s name.” He let out a wistful sigh then and leaned back against the shelf. “I can’t believe I finally got it.”

“That’s great,” Benji said weakly. He’d reached for his spiked soda, taken a drink, and then put his hands back in position on his guitar to resume playing. He’d just begun strumming when Asa had burst out with, “That’s it?”

“What?” Benji glanced up in surprise at the sharp tone of his brother’s voice.

Hurt shone brightly in Asa’s eyes. “I know we don’t usually talk about this stuff, but… I dunno, I just thought you’d be a little more excited for me…”

“Sorry,” Benji mumbled. He’d tripped over his next words, slurring them together a bit. “I am. I am happy for you. But we can’t talk about it, you know that.”

Asa hung his head, staring down at his sneakered feet silently for several long minutes. Benji began to strum the guitar again, hoping that maybe his brother would take the hint and go away. But Asa had continued to stand there while the metal strings buzzed under Benji’s fingers, and it had taken him a while to work up the courage to speak again.

“Why can’t we?” Asa had whispered plaintively, just barely loud enough to be heard over the percussive sound of the pouring rain and the aimless melody being plucked out by Benji’s hands.

“Because what everyone else says about names is a lie, Asa,” Benji had muttered drunkenly. Bitterly. “They don’t bring you happiness or whatever bullsh*t Hollywood tells you. Just look at Mom. Does she look happy to you? We’d all be better off without names, free to choose who we want to be with for ourselves – or to just choose nothing at all if that’s what we want.”

Asa’s right hand had crept over to cover the partially-formed name on his left wrist. “So you’d just… you’d rather just be alone? Forever?”

No – god, no, a small voice inside of Benji had cried out, a voice that no doubt belonged to that other boy, that secret boy, deep within himself. That boy who longed for things he couldn’t have. The boy who wondered sometimes about Victor Manuel Salazar, about where he might be and what he looked like and if he also dreamed about Benji. But Benji had silenced that voice with another long sip of his soda and said, “Yes. That way I’ll never have to lose anyone the way Mom did. That way I’ll be free to make my own choices.”

“I think it’s time you and I had a little talk,” Pilar said icily.

All Benji wanted just then was to walk away and never have to hear whatever it was that Pilar wanted to say to him, but he’d agreed to come out there with her, and there was no escaping it now.

When Benji just stared back at her silently, Pilar continued, saying, “I know what’s been going on with you and Victor lately. I know you’ve been staying over at his place a lot, and that you guys have been getting closer, and I even know about the song you played for him. Victor doesn’t know about that, actually, but I saw him watching that video the other day when he thought I was in the bathroom. He had the volume down pretty low, but I could hear it.” She tightened her arms, which were crossed over her chest, and her eyes narrowed even further as she said, “I also know that you’re nameless.”

Benji swallowed down his guilt and asked, “Then what is it that you want to say to me?”

“When Victor found out that his name was unrequited back in November, he was devastated. It was just like last year, when he came here alone and depressed with nowhere else to go. Victor’s been through a lot in his life, but last January was the most heartbroken I’ve ever seen him, and I was so scared for him. But then he slowly started to get better. He got a job at a supermarket, he started to make some friends here, he applied at Creekwood… I really thought that the worst was finally over for him. That life had thrown every horrible thing it could at him and he’d somehow managed to survive it all, and maybe coming here, starting over, would be his chance to find a little happiness after all of that.” Pilar’s lower lip trembled slightly, but Benji didn’t know her well enough to tell if it was anger or sadness that had brought a gleam of unshed tears to her eyes. “And then he met you, and he got his heart broken all over again.”

There was nothing Benji could say in his defense. He had hurt Victor so badly, and he knew that, and he also knew that he was likely to end up doing it again. However much Pilar might hate him, it couldn’t match the depth of Benji’s own hatred for himself.

“Felix has this idea that even though you’re nameless, you could still choose to be with Victor, and maybe you guys could be happy together,” Pilar went on. “And now that this… thing with you and Victor is happening, I think Victor is starting to believe that, too. Especially with you doing stuff like singing him beautiful songs and apparently losing your cool trying to defend him at work from crazy customers. Honestly, if you really do choose him and you guys live happily ever after I will be thrilled – but I’d also be very surprised if that actually happened. Because I can see the way that Victor’s been holding his breath these past weeks, like he’s just bracing himself for the next blow to fall, and Benji… I think we both know that Victor’s playing with fire right now. Isn’t he?”

There was a long pause while Pilar waited for an answer, and it didn’t seem like she would continue on this time until she got one. Benji swallowed thickly, an ache in his chest to match the ache in his constricted throat, and stammered gracelessly, “I – uh, I…”

Pilar stared back at him steadily, dispassionately.

“I do care about him,” Benji confessed finally, in a small voice, with as much honesty as he could give her. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

You don’t want to, said the voice in his mind, but you know you will. You know she’s right.

“Then don’t,” Pilar said commandingly. “If you’re going to leave, do it now before he gets any more caught up in you. And if you’re going to stay, then hurry up and f*cking tell him that so he doesn’t have to keep living in limbo like this.” She stopped then, swiping resentfully at a tear that had broken free and run rapidly down her cheek. She inhaled deeply then, composing herself. “My brother’s heart has been broken more times than you can begin to imagine. He’s the strongest person I know, and he can survive being hurt by you, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be. Maybe the first time you hurt him it wasn’t really your fault – you didn’t choose to be nameless – but this time it is your choice. So I’m asking you now to make the right one.”

Pilar had said that with so much certainty, as though Benji really did have a choice in all of this, but he himself wasn’t so certain about that. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, he wasn’t nameless. Beneath the lies and the shame and the fear, beneath the layers of ink, Victor’s name was written as dark as a brand upon his skin. He’d been trying ever since childhood to outrun his fate, and yet it had come for him all the same, in the form of a man that he simply could not seem to walk away from no matter how hard he tried. A man too good not to care for, a man too beautiful to be forgotten. He and Victor had been tugged onto a collision course from the moment their eyes had met at that party. Had Benji ever even stood a chance at escaping any of this? Had Victor? What choice was there, really, for either of them?

Benji had been fighting this for so long that the fight was all he knew. Was it even possible now to surrender?

Benji went home alone Thursday night without returning to the bar to say goodbye. He simply walked over to his car after Victor’s sister had left him standing alone on the sidewalk and drove himself back to his place, maybe a little drunker than he should have been, a little drunker than was safe, but by some stroke of luck he made it back in one piece. As he pulled up in front of his building, his phone buzzed with a new text message from Victor.

Everything ok?

Benji typed out a quick reply before climbing out of the car.

Yeah, fine. I’m opening tomorrow so I decided to head out early. Have a good night

Inside the cluttered apartment, Benji removed his shoes and jacket, reaching automatically for the bottle of whiskey on the table and taking it over to the bed with him. Pilar’s words were still buzzing angrily in the back of his mind, chasing themselves around in circles, a hornet’s nest of stinging disapproval. It would be another long night, he could already feel it in the soles of his feet, in the palms of his hands, in his restless limbs. Victor’s response came just as he was putting back another shot.

Goodnight Benji. Sleep well

Benji dropped the phone onto the mattress and stared down at the rumpled sheets beneath him as he thought of Victor and the way the pale cotton had looked draped over his warm skin. Remembered the spread of Victor’s dark curls across his pillow, the hushed sound of his breathing close to Benji’s ear. It had been so easy to fall asleep beside him, wrapped around him – easy in a way it hardly ever was for Benji. And now everywhere he looked the room was full of Victor: Victor sitting in the chair on the balcony, talking to his brother; Victor in the kitchen, filling two mugs with coffee while Benji buttered toast for them; Victor stepping out of the bathroom in a towel, smiling knowingly, affectionately, at Benji as their breakfast burned.

Victor standing in front of the easel, staring at the portrait of himself.

Ever since the Christmas party when Benji had gone home with Victor, he’d done everything he could to avoid thinking about what they were doing. He’d known instinctively that thinking about it, labeling it, would put an end to it, and it seemed likely that Victor had known that as well. What had happened to the angry Victor from that night? The one who had followed him out of Lake’s apartment, who had chased after Benji and pulled him to a stop, who had shouted that Benji’s behavior wasn’t fair to Victor? What had happened to the Victor who had said “You’re not the one with something to lose”?

Benji had kissed him then for no reason that he himself could understand, except that he’d simply wanted Victor too much to hold back any longer. Had that been the moment Victor had surrendered to this? Had Benji given up then, too, without even realizing it?

Felix, and Pilar to some extent, and now perhaps Victor as well – they all believed that happiness might be a real possibility if Benji and Victor just embraced the workings of fate and allowed it to run its course, but Benji had his doubts about this. He was an addict and a liar, after all; he lived his life in hiding, while Victor was slowly beginning to step out of the shadows and learning how to be proud of who he was. How could someone like Benji ever manage to make Victor happy? The odds were good that Benji would screw it all up in the end.

But it was the chance that they were right which terrified Benji most of all because nothing in this world lasted forever. As hard as it was to bear the aching hollow of loneliness within himself, how much worse would it be to have had true happiness and lost it?

Until recently, Ruth had never held much interest in religion, but in the days following Paul’s death, she’d found some comfort in returning to the traditions she’d grown up with. After his burial she’d spent the entire week at home sitting shiva, only leaving the house in order to go to the nearest Orthodox shul to pray. Sometimes she’d brought Benji and Asa with her, and even now, all these years later, Benji could remember so clearly the sight of her pale face framed by unwashed hair, red eyes encircled by shadows, lips murmuring the words of the Mourner’s Kaddish. “Blessed and exalted be God’s great name… blessed be God’s great name to all eternity…”

At the time, Benji hadn’t understood how she could find any comfort in praising a god that had given her a soulmate and then ripped him away so cruelly. A god who had made her a widow and a single mother burdened with debt. A god who had made those final months of Paul’s life so painful. Now that Benji was older he knew rationally that people often turned to religion and tradition when they felt lost, but on some deeper, more emotional level he still couldn’t understand it. Just like he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the advice she’d given him and Asa on Christmas.

“Never let an opportunity for happiness slip away if you can help it, even if you know you can’t hold onto it forever.”

How could she, of all people, believe that? After all that she had lost?

If there really was a god directing everything, holding power over life and death, writing names upon the skin with ineffable reasoning and pulling all the strings like some master puppeteer… then it was a god that Benji could never allow himself to trust. Better to be alone than to risk it all and lose everything. Better to just keep on fighting for as long as he could.

It made no sense how resolving to protect himself and Victor from future pain could hurt so much. Benji raised the bottle to his lips, tasted the burn of the liquor on his tongue, and tried so hard not to think about how easy it had been to fall asleep with Victor in his arms.

Floating, underwater haze. Time and mass and space inconsequential, reality a blur of sound and color. Human voices in the dark. The heat of crowded rooms. Friday gig at a house party, one drink after another after another until the rest of the night became an absence of memory, a black hole void of existence. He could have been anywhere, anything; he could have been nothing at all. He could have been dead for all those missing hours.

Saturday morning opening shift with Kayla. A throbbing, pulsing ache in his temples, behind his eyes, at the base of his skull. Trying desperately to swallow down the nausea. He only ended up retching into the toilet of the employee bathroom once, which might have felt like a victory if it wasn’t so incredibly gross and pathetic. Trips into the back room to wash the hangover down with a little hair of the dog.

He was already drunk again by the time he showed up at the bar for their Saturday show that night. The room was poorly lit, a long counter along one wall and a small stage at the back, a few pool tables up front near the doors. Benji wove his way through the crowd to join his band mates, impressed by the turn out. It was more people than he’d been expecting for a dive bar in a not so trendy part of town.

“Christ,” Derek grumbled as Benji walked up. “Are you still wasted from last night?”

Derek didn’t usually call Benji out on his drinking around other people, but this time he’d spoken loudly enough for Justin and Alex to overhear.

Justin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re good to play, right?

“Yeah, of course,” Benji reassured him, shooting Derek an annoyed look. “I had a couple of drinks before I got here but I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”

Derek’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond, and Alex and Justin got back to work setting up. A few minutes later, as Benji was adjusting the mic stand, Derek stepped over to him and said in a low voice, “You told me I was your friend, Benji. So, speaking as your friend, you really need to slow the f*ck down before your hurt yourself, okay? I’m worried about you.

It was unusual for Derek to be so direct about his concern and Benji was just vulnerable enough at that moment for the weight of it to slip past his defenses. He’d been a mess ever since resolving on Thursday night to put an end to whatever was going on with him and Victor. He’d barely slept in days and he felt wrung out from the hangover and the booze and the ache of loneliness. And now here was Derek looking at him with real worry in his eyes and suddenly Benji’s throat was so tight he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to sing even a single note.

“I’ll be fine,” Benji mumbled thickly, and somehow he did get through that first song, even though he might have tripped over the lyrics a little bit in places, and his hands fumbled just a little on the strings. He could feel the eyes of his band mates on him, irritated by each mistake, but fortunately as they flowed into the second song Benji began to lose himself in the music, and the muscle memory carried him through, and it became easier after that.

When the set was finished and the equipment packed away, Derek offered to drive Benji home.

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore,” Benji said. He was probably drunk enough to say yes, though, if Derek really was suggesting more than just a ride. It would be a stupid thing to do, but most of the things Benji did while drunk were stupid. It would be better than responding to the text from Victor at least, the message that read simply, “What are you up to tonight?” A few days ago, before being confronted by Pilar, Benji would have replied to that with an invitation, but now it was taking every ounce of willpower he possessed to resist that temptation.

“We’re not doing that,” Derek answered firmly, shutting down all hope of the distraction Benji so desperately needed. A moment later Derek’s gaze softened, and he placed a gentle hand on Benji’s arm. “Just let me take you home, please? You look exhausted.”

Benji shrugged him off. “I’m fine. You should just head out without me.”

He hadn’t been able to meet Derek’s eyes then, knowing that the pity in them would be too much to bear. Derek left, and Benji returned to the bar to order another drink, and a few minutes later he had struck up a conversation with a woman sitting at the counter near him.

Her name was Camila and she was a student at Georgia Tech. She had light brown skin and dark eyes, her black hair a little wavy, her upper lip curved like a bow. It didn’t take him long to realize who she resembled – she looked more like Victor than Victor’s own sister did – but he finished his drink quickly and ordered another in the hope that it would help him not to think too much about that. He hadn’t tried to pursue a woman since that night he’d met Victor for the first time, and he felt a little ashamed of how long it had been and how little he’d cared.

They talked and drank and danced, Camila’s body soft and cloyingly sweet smelling, her curves so very different from what he actually wanted. Halfway through a song, her arms wound around his neck as she leaned up to kiss him. Even though her mouth bore a similar shape to Victor’s, she was nothing like him. The taste, the slightly tacky texture of her lipstick, the way she moved her lips – it wasn’t right. It wasn’t working. Her kiss left him feeling cold all over. How had he ever been able to do this before?

But he kissed her back stubbornly, banishing all thoughts of Victor, and when he asked her to come back to his place a little while later she agreed.

He didn’t bother turning on the lights when they arrived, simply pulling her with him toward the bed through the shadows of his apartment. The darkness made it a little easier to close his eyes as they undressed and imagine that the hands running over his skin were larger, the fingers longer. She kissed him again and again as his mind desperately sought out something that would make this feel good, some image or memory that would make him finally respond to her touches. He tried to resist it but in the end he gave in and thought of Victor, the hard, flat planes of his body, the strength of his arms, the heat of his mouth. For a moment or two it was enough, but gradually the contrast between what he was seeing in his mind and what he was feeling in reality became so jarring that he felt his body’s interest begin to flag, and after that nothing Camila did was working anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he said defeatedly, grateful that with the lights off she couldn’t see the shame no doubt written across his face. Camila pulled away from him and began to dress. “I think I just had too much to drink tonight.”

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Camila answered, her voice tight. “My ride should be here in a few minutes. I’m just going to wait outside.”

“Let me come down with you,” Benji offered guiltily.

She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her purse. “No thanks,” she said, “I’ll be fine on my own.” A moment later she was gone.

Benji sat there in his bed, slumped back against the headboard, his eyes stinging with tears that he didn’t dare let fall. If they started they might not ever stop. He felt so alone.

On his phone the notification for Victor’s unanswered text remained. For a long while he just stared at it, trying so hard not to give in, but in the end he felt his hand reach out, his fingers type a message, and before he could think about what he was doing he’d hit send. It was late, well past midnight now, but a half an hour later there was a knock on his door, and the sight of Victor standing there – the moment Victor stepped through – the instant his hand touched Benji’s arm, his lips against Benji’s mouth everything Camila’s hadn’t been – god, the relief was overwhelming. It washed over Benji, through every part of him, leaving him instantly lighter. Freer.

Just one more night, Benji told himself as the door closed behind Victor, as they moved toward the bed, that’s all I need. Just one more night.

Benji woke slowly the next morning, warm and relaxed in a way he hadn’t been in days. Not since the last time he’d woken up like this, with Victor so close beside him. His mouth was dry and his head ached with a hangover, but it was easy enough to ignore when he had Victor’s smooth skin pressed against his, Victor rolling over to face him with a small smile on his lips just before he kissed Benji.

“Good morning,” Victor whispered, close to Benji’s mouth, and in response Benji threaded his fingers through Victor’s hair and pulled him in for an answering kiss.

It had only been a few days since the last time and yet he had missed it so much, missed Victor more than he wanted to admit. He was terrified of the depth of the want within him, and equally scared of what it would take to walk away from this. How many times now had he failed to keep his distance? The opposing fears felt as though they would tear him apart if he allowed himself to feel them, so he pushed them down as deep as he could, and gave up on thinking about anything other than the heady rush of Victor’s touch.

It was calm and unhurried, unlike the almost desperate pace of the night before, and so, so good. So good that he almost didn’t hear the knocking on his door at first, didn’t realize what was happening until Victor was already drawing away from him in surprise. They stared at each other for a long, wide-eyed moment before they were both climbing out of bed and scrambling to find their clothes. The knocking continued, loud and insistent, and then to Benji’s horror he heard his mother’s voice call out, “Benji, open up! I know you’re home now and I need to speak with you.”

“sh*t,” Benji swore, running a hand through his messy bedhead, probably making it look even worse. His pulse was racing so fast it was dizzying as he dragged the blanket up to cover the rumpled sheets. He took a second to try and compose himself, drawing in a deep breath, and then finally went to open the door.

“Were you asleep?” Ruth asked, eyes narrowed a little in annoyance. “It’s nearly ten-”

She abruptly stopped talking as she realized that Benji wasn’t alone.

“Oh,” Ruth said, blinking rapidly at Victor. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt…”

Panic was clawing at Benji’s throat. He had no idea how he managed to speak. “It’s, uh, no, it’s fine – Victor was just here to pick something up-”

Victor looked between them uncertainly before reaching for his jacket. “I should probably head out now…”

“Your name is Victor?” Ruth asked then. She was still standing in the doorway, making it impossible at the moment for Victor to leave.

Victor nodded. “Uh, yeah, I’m Victor Salazar. I work with Benji at the cafe.”

There was a long pause while Benji wished desperately that his mother would simply step aside and let Victor go. He could see her gaze moving between them and across the room, no doubt taking in the sloppily made bed, the empty bottles by the trash can, the cluttered counter tops and table. Had she noticed Benji’s wrinkled clothes, the ones he’d quickly picked up off the floor and thrown on in a rush? Had she noticed how Victor’s wavy hair was still in a state of disarray?

But whatever Ruth had observed in that moment, she didn’t allow it to show as she met Victor’s eyes again and said steadily, “I’m Ruth Campbell, Benji’s mother. It’s nice to meet you.”

She extended a hand toward him, and Benji watched silently, his pounding heart suddenly gone still, as Victor reached forward and shook hands with her.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Victor returned quietly. He glanced nervously in Benji’s direction and then repeated, “I really should head out now…”

“Oh, sorry,” Ruth said, finally moving into the apartment and freeing up the doorway.

Victor looked to Benji with something in his expression that Benji couldn’t readily identify – he seemed disappointed maybe, or perhaps resigned. “I’ll see you on Tuesday, right? Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

Benji nodded, swallowing thickly before he answered. “Yeah, you too. Bye Victor.”

As Victor walked past them, wearing only a t-shirt with his jacket slung over his arm, Benji caught a glimpse of the first three letters of Victor’s name visible just above his collar. His breath caught and he glanced sharply at Ruth, barely fast enough to see the way her mouth dropped open slightly and then snapped shut again.

f*ck. She’d seen it, hadn’t she? Victor was gone from sight now, descending the stairs to the parking lot, but she was still staring out the open door after him, her eyes a little wide. Benji felt as scared as he had been the day she’d discovered his tattoo. But just like that day, Ruth was so good at keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself; even now, Benji wasn’t entirely certain what she knew, what she had guessed. What she had seen.

Ruth closed the door, and turned to face Benji. An awkward, expectant silence filled the room.

“Do you, uh… do you want some coffee?” Benji asked, in order to have an excuse to escape to the kitchen and try to calm the frantic racing of his heart.

Ruth said, “Sure” so Benji got to work brewing them a pot. He began trying to clear some of the mess off of his table, but Ruth just shook her head at him a little and said, “Don’t bother. It’s nice out today, let’s just go sit outside.”

A short while later they were seated on Benji’s balcony with two mugs of coffee and Benji was doing his best not to wince in the bright morning light. The caffeine helped with his headache at least, but did little to calm the growing dread inside of him. He held his breath as he waited for her to speak, knowing that whatever it was she had come here to say it would be something difficult to hear.

Ruth took a sip of her coffee and then set the mug down on the little table in between the chairs. “You’ve been ignoring my calls. And don’t try and tell me you’ve been busy, I’m getting tired of hearing that excuse.”

“I’m sorry,” Benji said, sick with guilt. He didn’t bother trying to defend himself.

“I’ve been so worried about you this past week.” She let out a soft sigh, leaning back in her chair and staring forward at the spread of mostly barren tree limbs in front of the balcony. Below them people came and went on the sidewalk, moving slowly the way they tended to on Sunday mornings. “Well, to be honest, I’ve been worried about you for a very long time, and I probably should have tried harder before now to find out what it was that was constantly making you look so exhausted. You’re only twenty-two, Benji. You’re far too young to look as tired as you do, and it seems like every time you come home it just gets worse. You look thinner, you know. Like you lost weight just since Thanksgiving. And then the other night, when I found you drinking like that – it was like all the pieces of the puzzle just snapped into place and suddenly I knew why all of this seemed so familiar.”

“Mom-” Benji tried to cut in then, his throat so tight it hurt to speak. He didn’t know what he was going to say, most likely a lie or a denial of some sort, but she didn’t give him the chance as she hurried to continue.

“These kinds of things run in families. I know that, and I should have been more vigilant, I should have seen the signs of what was going on with you years ago… but I guess I turned a blind eye to it because I didn’t want it to be true. I’m so sorry, honey. I’m so sorry that I didn’t see this before, that I didn’t try to help you-”

“Mom, please,” Benji begged, startled to find that there were tears welling up in his eyes to match the ones now running down his mother’s cheeks. It was so rare to see her cry that it made his own tears spill over, and he was too upset to even brush them away. “Please stop, this isn’t what you think it is, okay? I just-”

Ruth shook her head, a slightly broken sound emerging from her that seemed to be somewhere in between a laugh and a sob. “It’s exactly what I think it is, and we both know it. Your father struggled with alcoholism for most of his life, and I was there for a lot of it, so I’m pretty sure I can recognize it when I see it. It’s not an easy thing to live with, Benji, but there is help for this-”

Benji’s breath was coming fast and short, making him feel light-headed. The stabbing pain in his temples grew immediately worse. This couldn’t be happening. He’d been hiding this secret for years, so why was it now that everything was starting to fall apart? Why was it only now that people like Lake and his mother were beginning to see through the lies?

Like everything in his life these days, it felt like it all came back to Victor.

Ever since they’d met, Benji had been taking more risks. He’d been scared and stressed and drinking more heavily as a result, letting it impact his work and his relationships. From the time Victor had started working at Brasstown he’d been slowly opening himself up, leaving himself vulnerable in ways he never had before, but it wasn’t just Victor who was catching glimpses of the truth that lay behind all of Benji’s defenses and deceit. It had barely even been two months and already so much was beginning to crumble around him – Derek had ended things with him, and Dave was growing suspicious at work, and his friendship with Lake and Mia was on shaky ground, and Asa was asking questions, and the tattoo was fading for reasons he didn’t understand… and now this. And now his mother sitting here beside him with tears in her eyes, looking at Benji with an anguish he hadn’t seen since the days right after Paul’s death.

“I don’t need any help,” Benji ground out, finally bringing a palm up to rub roughly at his own wet cheeks. “I don’t drink that much more than anyone else my age. You’re just making this into a bigger thing than it is.”

“No, I’m not, and I need you to listen to me,” Ruth said firmly, her voice as hard just then as steel. “I know that you’ve had a lot to struggle with in life, and it breaks my heart to see you trying to carry so many burdens on your own. A lot of that is my fault, for not being there for you the way I should have been in the past. I have my own excuses for that and it’s not like they don’t amount to anything – I’ve had a lot to struggle with over the years, too – but that doesn’t change the fact that I knew you were hurting and I didn’t let myself see it. I didn’t reach out to you to try and make things better. I just let you carry all of that weight on your own for so long while I was wrapped up in my own problems. I am so, so sorry for that – but I want to do better now.” Benji opened his mouth to try and interrupt, but Ruth silenced him with a sharp look. “No, listen – I’m not finished yet. I need to do better now, because I can see that if I don’t, this is just going to continue to get worse and worse until it ends in you seriously hurting yourself or someone else.”

Benji shook his head, his hands trembling so much now he had to set the mug of coffee down before it spilled all over him. “I’m not, I’m not hurting anyone else,” Benji lied, and he knew even as he said it that it was untrue but he couldn’t stop himself from doing what he always did. “I just drink sometimes to relax when I’m feeling stressed out, that’s all, okay? It doesn’t need to be anyone else’s business but mine. So would you please just drop this? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“I can’t drop this,” Ruth countered. “I can’t just sit back and let you keep hurting yourself. You need help, Benji. You have a problem and it’s not going to go away until you get some support, which means you need to start being more honest about what’s really going on here, with me and whoever else you have in your life that you feel safe talking to. Do you have any close friends that could help you through this? Derek, maybe? Or, uh – or Victor?”

Benji’s already furiously pounding heart began to pound even harder. “He’s just a coworker, Mom. And there’s nothing to talk about, with you or anyone else.”

“We both know that’s not true.” Ruth paused for a long moment, her tear-bright eyes boring into him as she said, “Neither of those things are true, are they?”

He couldn’t do this. It was all too much and he simply couldn’t do it.

“You need to leave,” he said quietly, looking away so that he wouldn’t see the hurt he was inflicting. “Just go, please. I can’t deal with this today.”

“Benji-”

“Just go, Mom!”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the way she flinched at that. Had he ever shouted at her like this before? He felt so incredibly guilty, and he hated it, hated himself, but she had pushed him too far and if she didn’t leave soon he didn’t know what he might say to her next.

Ruth seemed to realize then that Benji had reached a breaking point. She rose a little unsteadily, wiping tears away from her face and taking a moment to just breathe deeply before she spoke again.

“Okay. I’ll go for now, because I can see that I’m not going to get through to you today. But this isn’t over, Benji. I’m not going to give up on you.” She swallowed hard, reaching out to gently brush his hair out of his face and tuck it back behind his ear. He still couldn’t bring himself to look up at her. “I’ll be back soon and we’ll talk again. Please just – please just take care of yourself, okay? I love you so much. All I want is for you to be happy.”

She left, finally, letting herself out while Benji dropped his head into his hands and sat there alone in the bright morning light, his tears pooling within his palms. He felt as though they would never stop; he wondered if he would drown in them.

Chapter 15: Come Run Away With Me

Chapter Text

Nearly a week passed by in a blur of booze, loneliness, and unanswered phone calls from his mother and Lake. Benji went to work, avoided speaking to anyone (especially Victor), taught some private lessons, went to band practice, performed another gig at a bar on Friday, and ended each insomnia-ridden night by drinking until he passed out. It was one of the worst benders he’d ever gone on, but he was still somehow just barely functioning enough to do what he needed to do every day without drawing too much attention to himself, aside from Derek cornering him again after practice and the worried looks he kept getting from his coworkers.

Earlier in the week Victor had come up to him when Benji was in the supply room and placed a cautious hand on Benji’s arm as he’d asked if Benji was okay. Benji had shrugged off both the touch and the concern as gently as he could, but it had been impossible to miss the hurt in Victor’s eyes when he’d stepped back to give Benji his space. It had been so hard to resist the urge to lean forward just then; so hard not to long for Victor’s comfort when he was feeling so low, but he knew he didn’t deserve it, and thus Benji had dug down deep into his resolve and forced himself to get back to work.

By Saturday morning the week long binge was truly taking its toll. He woke up retching and barely made it into Brasstown on time for his opening shift. He hadn’t had much time to check his appearance, but it was obvious from the widening of Victor’s eyes that Benji must have looked awful. Although Victor had been keeping his distance from Benji in response to the way Benji kept avoiding him, he hurried over to Benji now.

“Are you sick?” Victor asked, his brows furrowed and his hand once again reaching out in an attempt to offer comfort. It settled on Benji’s shoulder, as if Victor were trying to keep him from running away again.

“I’m fine,” Benji responded shortly, impatient to get started on the opening routine so that he could try and distract himself from Victor’s presence.

Victor’s frown deepened. “That’s what you said on Tuesday, too, but you don’t look fine. You look like you’ve been getting worse and worse everyday, and you’ve been so quiet… Benji, what’s going on?” He swallowed nervously, hesitating a moment before saying, “You know that you can talk to me, right? I get that things are… complicated with us, but if there’s something wrong I want to help.”

“I’m fine,” Benji repeated, forcing himself to look at Victor as reassuringly as he could as he said it. “Really. I just haven’t been sleeping very well lately, but it’s not a big deal. I have the next two days off so I can try and get some rest then.”

Victor’s hand squeezed his shoulder lightly for a moment, and then fell away. He didn’t seem completely convinced but all he said in response was, “All right. But if you ever do need to talk, I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” Benji said quietly.

They went to work after that, and as they were going through the opening tasks it soon became apparent that there was something wrong with the espresso machine. With a sigh of annoyance Benji went into the back room to retrieve the toolbox, and then spent the next twenty minutes messing around with it until he finally had to call Sarah in defeat.

She arrived at the cafe about a half an hour later in an even fouler mood than usual since there was nothing Sarah hated more than getting called in on her day off. Benji still hadn’t succeeded in fixing the machine, but by that point he was reasonably certain he knew what was wrong with it at least. He explained to her about the part that most likely needed to be replaced and then Sarah began working her way through the list of repair shops that might carry it.

In addition to Sarah being especially high strung that morning, it was stressful dealing with angry and disappointed customers who were now limited to only what drinks could be made without the espresso machine. It made the aching in Benji’s skull feel that much more intense, and they were too busy to even allow him time to slip away for a shot or two in the back to calm his nerves.

“The only place that has the part in stock is all the way up in freaking Willacoochee,” Sarah announced with a huge groan of exasperation as she emerged from the office. “You and Victor are going to have to drive it up there and get it fixed ASAP. Dave already said he can come in and cover, and I’ll stay here with him to manage the situation.”

Victor had just returned from bussing tables in time to catch what Sarah had said. His eyes met Benji’s for a moment, as if to gauge Benji’s reaction to the situation, so Benji struggled to remain calm and not let his suddenly increased level of stress show. It had been so difficult to stay away from Victor all week just as they went about their normal roles at Brasstown. How on earth would Benji survive an entire day, including all those hours alone in the car with him?

“Or maybe you and Victor could go?” Benji suggested weakly, already recognizing from the look on Sarah’s face that it wasn’t going to happen.

Sarah glanced over at the large machine skeptically. “You seriously think I can lift that thing? You’re the one with the muscles here, you’re taking it. Now hurry up and get going! The sooner you get it taken care of the sooner we can get back to normal around here, and the sooner I can go home. This was supposed to be my day off…” Sarah headed off toward the supply room, continuing to mutter angrily under her breath.

Victor was quiet as they wrestled the espresso machine out of the cafe and into the back of Benji’s car, only speaking when necessary. Benji could tell that he’d hurt Victor’s feelings earlier when he’d suggested that Sarah go instead, and even though he knew he should just leave things alone, he was feeling guilty enough that once they were seated in the car he tried to apologize.

“I’m sorry about earlier. Like I said before, I’ve been really tired this week from not sleeping well, so I didn’t feel up to the long drive, but I guess we’re doing this anyway…”

He was about to start the car, but Victor reached over and stopped him by laying his hand on top of Benji’s. His palm was so warm against Benji’s skin; made all the warmer by the fact that no one else had touched him in days. Benji’s breath caught a little at the contact and he went still as he forced himself not to react.

“Why don’t you let me drive then? You can take a nap in the backseat if you want, and then we can switch on the way back to Atlanta later.”

It was hard to refuse that when Benji had just used being tired as an excuse to make Victor feel better. And it hadn’t even been a lie, anyway. Benji really was truly and utterly exhausted after so many restless nights followed by so many painful mornings. The opportunity to sleep off his hangover in the back of the car was incredibly tempting.

“Are you sure? It’s a pretty long drive…”

“Of course. Go get some rest. No offense, but you look like you need it.” Victor’s smile was a little bit worried and a little bit teasing all at once, and Benji couldn’t stop his own lips from turning up just slightly in response.

So that was how Victor ended up settling in behind the wheel while Benji climbed into the backseat and rolled his jacket up to use as a pillow against the window. It was a dreary day, the thick gray clouds overhead allowing very little light through. He closed his eyes and began to relax, his aching head grateful for the gloom. The rumble of the engine and the soft sound of one of Victor’s playlists combined into a gentle, comforting murmur that filled the quiet space between them. Benji usually had trouble going to sleep in situations like this, but today he was bone tired and there was something about having Victor close by that made sleep come so much more easily to him.

Around ten thirty Benji woke again, his neck aching from the angle but otherwise feeling much better than he had before. Judging by the time they probably still had about another hour left to go before arriving in Willacoochee.

“Hey there,” Victor said fondly as he watched Benji stretch in the rear view mirror. “You mind if we stop and pick up some coffees at the next exit?”

“That sounds amazing.”

They got a couple of large cappuccinos at a local cafe in some small town Benji hadn’t caught the name of, and on the way back to the car Benji offered to take over driving.

“I’m good,” Victor said with a smile. “You can drive on the way back.”

Once they were back on the road, Victor started up a playlist again, a song in Spanish drifting out of the speakers which Benji recognized.

“This is Bomba Estereo, isn’t it?” he asked without thinking, and then wished he hadn’t. He was trying to keep his distance now and this topic was not going to help with that.

Victor bit his lip a little in embarrassment. “Um, yeah. I’ve kinda been listening to them a lot lately…” He darted a nervous look at Benji. “Ever since Christmas, actually. I’d heard of them before but your cover of their song was so incredible that it made me want to hear more. They’re really good.”

“Yeah,” Benji agreed, trying to keep his tone casual. “I don’t normally listen to much music in other languages besides English, but I’m starting to think maybe I need to broaden my horizons a little. Find out what else I’ve been missing.”

Victor frowned. “Wait, so if you don’t usually listen to stuff like this, then how did you find that song?”

Benji couldn’t think up a reasonable lie fast enough, so in the end he admitted truthfully, “Well, that night when we were closing a couple of weeks ago, you said you like to listen to Cumbia when you’re feeling homesick, so I did a little research. I know these guys aren’t exactly traditional Cumbia, but, uh… I guess I thought you might like them.”

“You remembered that?” Victor blurted out in surprise, giving Benji a long look that made him turn uncomfortably toward the window. He was a little startled a moment later when Victor’s hand reached out tentatively to rest on top of his. Benji knew he should pull back, knew he shouldn’t be doing this anymore, but the warmth of Victor’s touch felt too good to let go of. Just a few minutes, that was all. Then he’d pull away.

“Well, you were right,” Victor said into the awkward pause when Benji had failed to respond. “I loved the song you chose and the way you performed it, and now I’m getting really into this band, too. If you ever do want to listen to some more music in Spanish, let me know. Maybe I can put together a playlist for you.” He shot Benji a quick smile. “Help you broaden your horizons a bit.”

They continued to talk about music and other safe topics the rest of the way to Willacoochee, Victor’s hand curled around Benji’s while he told himself again and again, just a little bit longer. Before he knew it they were pulling up outside of a tiny repair shop-slash-garage attached to a house near the center of town. Wally, the elderly man who ran the place, shuffled about so slowly with his cane that Benji’s hopes of making it back to Atlanta and away from Victor as soon as possible went right up in smoke.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be here a while,” Benji grumbled when Wally went to look for his ‘special tools’. He sighed, checking the time on his phone. It was close to noon already. “Wanna go get something to eat while we’re waiting?”

They got some lunch at a little mom and pop diner a few blocks away from the shop. Victor grew annoyed when he couldn’t find a single vegetarian option on the menu and had to pick chicken off of a salad despite ordering it without meat, while Benji tried not to feel guilty about eating a burger right in front of him.

“Sorry. Guess we should’ve tried that Mexican place down the street instead.”

“It’s fine,” Victor said wearily, dropping another piece of chicken breast onto his napkin. “I should be used to this after growing up in Graham. Apparently spending the last three years in cities has kind of spoiled me.”

“How long have you been a vegetarian?”

“Since high school,” Victor said. “I took an environmental biology class when I was a junior and then I decided to stop eating meat for ethical reasons. Everybody thought I was completely nuts. In Graham a guy ordering a salad is enough to make people raise their brows, but it’s not like everyone back there didn’t already think I was a freak anyway.” Benji winced sympathetically, and Victor sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a downer. Uh… how’s your burger?”

“I’m pretty sure all I can taste now is its enormous carbon footprint,” Benji joked. Victor let out a surprised laugh at the unexpected return of Benji’s sense of humor, and Benji himself was a little surprised by it as well. This was the most they had spoken to each other since the night Benji had met Pilar, and although he wanted to resist it, Victor was just so easy to talk to that he couldn’t help relaxing around him more and more as the day went on. And the more that Benji relaxed the brighter and more cheerful Victor became. It was such a relief to see him looking happy again after all those days spent trying to avoid Victor and witnessing the hurt in his eyes every time Benji pulled away from him. He knew that avoiding Victor was the right thing to do in the long run, but Victor’s smiles were so beautiful and all he wanted just then was to find a way to keep seeing more of them.

After lunch they checked in with Wally again, but the machine still wasn’t ready, so they ended up hanging out at a cafe. Hours passed by while they sat and talked at a little table next to the window, the cloud cover outside growing gradually darker with the promise of rain. Around four thirty Benji was so caught up in a discussion of their favorite authors that he almost didn’t notice when his phone started buzzing. Unfortunately it turned out to be Sarah, who bitched at him loudly for about five minutes, bringing back the headache which had been mostly gone by that point in the day. In the end he snapped at her a little more forcefully than he meant to.

“I don’t know what to say, Sarah. It’ll be done when it’s done. I’ll call you back later.” He hung up on her, exhaling loudly in annoyance and then reluctantly told Victor what she’d said. “If it’s not finished in the next two hours we can just get a hotel here and drive back in the morning. But honestly I don’t mind driving home tonight if we need to.”

“Benji, you looked like a strong breeze could knock you over this morning,” Victor protested. “Maybe the hotel’s not such a bad idea, depending on how late it ends up being when the machine’s ready.”

“Let’s just see how it goes.”

They spent another two hours in the coffee shop, Benji’s previous good mood transforming rapidly into stress due to the prospect of being stuck overnight there with Victor. The past week had been so hard and yet he’d somehow managed to pull through it without giving in to the urge to hook up with Victor again. He doubted he would be strong enough to resist the temptation if they ended up staying in Willacoochee, especially because he could already sense that urge to just give in growing stronger, the urge to simply draw out the pleasant afternoon spent with Victor into another night with him.

Around seven they went to get dinner at the Mexican place (which fortunately did have some vegetarian dishes), and finally toward the end of the meal Victor got a call from Wally. A strange look passed over Victor’s face as he listened, his gaze lingering consideringly on Benji for just a moment before he looked away. But once the call ended all he said was, “It’s ready to go now. I guess if we pick it up and leave right away we can still make it back to Atlanta around eleven thirty or so.”

This was what he’d been waiting for all day long, but now that the moment had arrived Benji suddenly felt torn. The day had been so nice, so much better than every other day recently. Talking with Victor, spending time with him, had been really relaxing, and if Benji was being honest with himself, it had been fun. He’d barely even touched the flask, and for awhile he’d forgotten about it entirely. It also occurred to him then that the next day was Sunday, Ruth’s day off, and it was likely she’d come looking for him again.

Victor was watching him, waiting, and god Benji just wanted to stay here with him. To just leave Atlanta and his f*cked up life behind for one night. It felt as though what he should do and what he wanted to do were at war within him and he was left simply staring back at Victor, stuck at an impasse.

As if he could sense Benji’s indecision, Victor spoke up then, softly, a little nervously, “If you’re uh… if you’re still feeling tired, we could just stay here tonight. It might be good for you to get the rest, and honestly I wouldn’t mind. We can do whatever you feel like doing.”

It was stupid, and it was selfish, and it was wrong… but Benji had been so lonely. He’d been pushing everyone away – his mom, and Asa, and Lake, and Derek, and Victor most of all – and he just couldn’t keep doing it. So Benji told him, “Okay. Let’s stay here then.”

Victor called Wally and let him know they’d pick up the espresso machine in the morning while Benji reserved a motel room for them online. His finger hovered anxiously over the bed option in the site’s drop down menu before finally selecting a room with two doubles. He’d have to be reimbursed by Sarah later, and maybe there was some slim chance that he’d be able to keep his distance from Victor that night. He could already tell from the way the atmosphere between them suddenly felt thick with anticipation that that was laughably unlikely to happen.

When they got to the motel, there turned out to be a mix up with the reservation and there weren’t actually any vacancies after all. Willacoochee wasn’t a big town, so there was only one other option available online, and in the end they got stuck with a room with a single queen.

“We can just explain to Sarah what happened. I don’t think she’ll figure anything out just because of this,” Victor said awkwardly as they let themselves into the room. A bed covered in white linens and a striped blanket stood before them, with a window nearby framed by matching curtains. For some reason the sight of that bed made Benji’s heart begin to pound, despite the fact that he and Victor had already slept together so many times he’d lost count. But there was something about this room, about this moment, that felt more intimate than their past encounters. It scared him, and he was about to head for the small en suite bathroom in order to drink when Victor spoke.

“Hey, uh… we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. I know you haven’t been feeling well, so if all you wanna do is sleep that’s fine.” Benji stared back at him in surprise, unsure how to respond, so Victor continued. “Sorry, it’s just that you seem kind of tense all of a sudden. I really am fine with whatever you want to do. There’s no pressure.”

Victor was clearly trying to be reassuring but what he’d just suggested did nothing to calm Benji’s nerves. Instead they grew instantly worse at the thought of sharing a bed with another man without even the excuse of sex. It was another one of those things, like holding hands, like kissing slowly, like letting someone hold him, that Benji had never done, and for all of his previous partners and all they’d done together, he suddenly felt so inexperienced. He couldn’t help wondering about Victor’s past. Had Victor ever shared these things with someone else before? It all seemed to come so easily to him, the kindness and the intimacy and the affection. It made Benji believe that there had been someone before, a lover with whom Victor had learned how to be sweet and patient.

Benji didn’t know how to be soft like that, even though some part of him wanted it more than anything. He didn’t know how to simply go to bed with Victor and sleep beside him without the physical rush of sex in between. So he pulled Victor into him with a hand against the back of his neck and kissed him hard, and the second their lips touched a desperate, aching need exploded into existence inside of him. It had barely even been a week since the last time but it felt so long, and he had missed this so much. He needed it like he needed food to eat and water to drink, like he needed the oxygen that rushed into his lungs when Victor’s hands dragged his hips forward and made Benji gasp against his mouth.

It all happened so fast after that. They didn’t even make it to the bed, Victor pushing in closer as they kissed until Benji’s back was against the wall, and then a moment later they were fumbling with buttons and zippers and hastily tossing shirts to the floor. Nothing else in the world mattered anymore except for this. Reality had narrowed until all it contained was the feeling of Victor’s teeth on his neck, Victor’s hand wrapped tightly around him and moving just right, the way he knew Benji liked it. Victor’s body boxing him in and holding him close. Victor down on his knees, pinning Benji’s hips against the wall and then the wonderful heat of his mouth closing around him. Every reason for holding back and saying no, every argument for protecting Victor by keeping his distance, was instantly and utterly forgotten in the face of sudden, overwhelming desire.

He couldn’t think, not when Victor was touching him like this, pulling him in like he’d missed it just as much as Benji had. It all might end in pain despite how good it felt – it all might end in heartbreak – and yet he still couldn’t stop, not as he lost himself, trembling in Victor’s hands, slumping back against the wall as Victor rose and wrapped him in supportive arms. And then they were finally falling into the bed, the warmth of Victor’s body all around him, opening Benji up with long, graceful fingers. The weight of Victor along his back when he pressed inside was just as all encompassing as an embrace. Victor’s lips left a trail of tender kisses across his neck and shoulders while they moved together, finally beginning to slow down now at last. Every part of himself was alive with energy. His skin was singing. His blood boiling. Benji would never be able to get enough of this, and it was so hard to remember what he’d ever been afraid of.

The soul and the body. That’s all either of them were, just souls and bodies joining in communion. When Benji turned his head back to meet Victor for another kiss, it was hard to tell where his own body ended and Victor’s began. If anything could make him believe in the existence of a soul, it was this.

“What was it like for you?” Benji asked. He was leaning against the headboard, one hand moving lazily through Victor’s hair as Victor lay on his stomach stretched out beside him. Every time Benji’s fingers came to the back of his neck they nearly brushed against the “B” written there. He found himself wanting to trace over it, to follow the familiar lines of his own handwriting down the perfect curve of Victor’s spine.

“What was what like?”

“Having a boy’s name,” Benji answered quietly.

He didn’t say “having my name”. It was still too painful for either of them to acknowledge that. He remembered how terrified he’d been when the letters had finally begun to appear on his skin. If he hadn’t been able to hide it behind a tattoo… What would have happened to him? What would his life have been like?

He shouldn’t be asking this, but the sight of his own name on Victor’s skin was bringing back memories of what he’d learned of Victor’s past from all the little details he’d gathered so far. Victor telling him that it was easier living in Atlanta than it had been in Texas, talking about how coming out had always been something that happened to him rather than something he’d chosen. Pilar saying, “My brother’s heart has been broken more times than you can begin to imagine.”

It was clearly a painful topic for Victor. He rolled over onto his back and then sat up, shoulder pressed lightly against Benji’s. For a long while he stared down at his hands without saying anything, and the depth of sadness Benji could read in his expression hurt to look at.

“It was really hard,” Victor finally admitted. “Really, really hard.”

Benji licked his lips, hesitating a moment before asking, “How old were you?”

“Twelve. My, uh, my sister actually saw it before I did. It must have been forming for a while without me realizing it, because the letters were already clear enough to read by the time she noticed.”

“What happened?”

“I… I just remember walking out of the bathroom one morning before school, and Pilar was there in the hallway, and she just grabbed my arm all of a sudden and asked me, “Who’s B, Victor?” I didn’t know what she was talking about. She seemed excited about me finally getting my name and she wanted to see it, and I – I didn’t know. About me. I didn’t know that I was gay yet. So we went in my room and I took my shirt off so we could both read it, but Pilar saw it first, and as soon as she did she, um… she started crying. She almost never cries. But she did that morning when she read my name, and she hugged me, and that was when I knew there was something wrong.” Victor took a deep, shuddering breath, like he might be on the verge of crying himself, but no tears came. A moment later he continued his story. “At first I tried to hide it, but a few days later some kids at school saw it, and then my parents did, too. Our family is pretty religious, so the first thing they did was call the priest, and then he told them to transfer me to a Catholic school where I could get started on the seminary track. That’s what Catholics usually do with kids like that, who have a same-sex name written on them. Boys end up becoming priests or monks, and girls become nuns.”

“And you were okay with that?” Benji asked, having a hard time believing that any teenager would want the kind of life Victor was describing.

Victor shrugged. “Not really. I always had doubts about god and religion. But I was scared. Before I went to the Catholic school, when I was in sixth grade, there was another kid who had a boy’s name. He was an eighth grader, and he was bullied for years after his name appeared. It was so bad that eventually he – he, uh -”

Victor couldn’t seem to get the words out, but he didn’t need to. The same thing had happened to a girl at Benji’s high school. He had been a sophom*ore when he’d heard about her taking her own life. He’d been so grateful at the time for the tattoo that protected him from a similar fate.

“So, yeah, I just went along with everything,” Victor finally said. “I didn’t really believe in any of it, but I kept telling myself that I did because it felt like there wasn’t any other path for me. I would’ve kept going like that until I actually became a priest but then when I went to the seminary in Dallas I met someone.” Victor paused, a small smile curling up his lips even though his eyes remained just as sad as they had been since the conversation had begun. “His name was Michael.”

“The guy from your photos,” Benji said without thinking. Victor glanced up at him in surprise. Benji could feel his cheeks growing a little warm as he admitted, “I, uh, I saw him on your Instagram. A tall guy with dark hair, really light skin.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, that’s him,” Victor said, and he was looking at Benji strangely now, like Benji was some puzzle that he couldn’t quite figure out. “How did you know that?”

“It was just a guess,” Benji answered, shrugging it off nervously. He couldn’t help asking, “Did something happen with you guys?”

“We were just friends at first but, yeah, eventually it became more than that. We were secretly together for about seven months during my third year at the seminary before someone found out about us.”

Victor’s sudden arrival in Atlanta was beginning to make a lot more sense now. “That’s why you left, isn’t it?”

Victor nodded. “I could’ve stayed, if I was willing to renounce what happened and accept punishment for it. That was what... that was what Michael chose. But being with him changed me. It made me realize that I’d just been, like, sleepwalking for years, letting everyone around me tell me where to go and what to do with my life, and none of it was what I actually wanted. I’d been so alone and so miserable for such a long time, and then for a little while with Michael I was happy. It made me think that maybe having this name, maybe being gay, didn’t have to be such a burden. It didn’t have to lead to loneliness and… and death.” His eyes rose for just a second to meet Benji’s and the hope that shone in them took Benji’s breath away. “When I first met you and I found out that you’re nameless, I started to doubt that again, but now…” Victor’s hand crept forward, reaching out to Benji as it had been doing so often lately, and each time it did it became just a little bit harder for Benji to draw away. He didn’t move at all except to turn his palm upward in a small gesture of acceptance, and a moment later Victor had woven their fingers together. Victor stared down at their joined hands as he spoke again. “…and now I’m not quite sure what I believe. All I know is that you feel so right to me.”

And suddenly it was on the tip of Benji’s tongue to confess everything: that he felt the same way, that the hope in Victor’s eyes had sparked a tiny, delicate hope inside of him in response, that all he had ever really wanted was to be free to be himself and have that be enough for someone. That he had a name, and that it was Victor’s name, and that some deep, buried part of himself that he so rarely acknowledged was glad that it was Victor’s name.

But when he opened his mouth the words wouldn’t come, so instead of speaking them, he pressed them into Victor’s skin with his lips, kissing his confessions into the arch of his neck, the space behind his ear, along his jaw and against his mouth. He kept one hand intertwined with Victor’s as the other cupped the side of his face, thumb tracing gently over the high rise of Victor’s cheekbone, pulling back for just a moment to look into Victor’s eyes and somehow will him to understand everything that he simply couldn’t say out loud. And there was a recognition there that made Benji’s heart swell, that made that whispering flame of hope grow fractionally brighter. Victor stared back at him with a warmth underwritten by something deeper, some emotion which Benji knew but couldn’t yet bring himself to name.

They kissed again, soft and slow, Victor sinking down low into the pillows when Benji shifted to cover him. He let out a groan as Victor’s hands dragged down his sides, across his ribs on their way to his hips, and then Benji broke off their kiss in order to lean back in Victor’s lap and just look at him. Victor’s dark hair was fanned out in wavy strands across the white cotton below it, his lips red and his eyes ringed by only the faintest hint of color as he ran his gaze over Benji in return. He looked so perfect spread out like this underneath Benji that all Benji could think about just then was how much he wanted to hold onto this and never let it go, no matter how selfish that might be, no matter how likely it was that someone like him would screw it all up in the end. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it would be a mistake, but in that moment Benji just desperately wanted to choose this. To choose Victor.

He was about to lean down into another kiss when suddenly Victor’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open in a gasp.

“What’s wrong?” Benji asked, worrying that maybe he’d hurt Victor somehow, but Victor was staring fixedly at Benji’s side. It took Benji a moment to realize what it was he was looking at.

“Your tattoo,” Victor breathed out in shock. “Your tattoo just – I don’t know, it just like, moved-”

Cold, paralyzing fear washed over Benji. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.

“I don’t understand how it’s even possible, but it definitely changed just now,” Victor continued, still watching the tattoo rather than Benji’s face. He hadn’t seemed to notice yet how terrified Benji was. “It looks a little different from before, like maybe part of it disappeared or something-”

And just like that the spell was broken and Benji was scrambling to get away from him, almost tripping in his haste to climb off of the bed. He was distantly aware of Victor sitting up hurriedly as he rushed to throw on his clothes.

“Benji, what are you doing? What’s wrong?” Victor repeated, sliding over to the side of the mattress. Benji ignored him, pulling on his boots as fast as he could and then reaching for his jacket. Victor’s voice sounded panicked as he asked, “You’re leaving? It’s after midnight, where are you going?”

All Benji could manage to offer in response as he headed for the door was a mumbled, “I’m sorry, I have to go-”

“Benji, wait-”

The closing of the door cut off whatever Victor was going to say next. Benji rushed down the cold hallway with his jacket slung over his arm, the dark stairwell passing by in a shadowy blur as he made his way down to the first floor and out to the parking lot. At some point during the night the overcast skies had broken, letting loose a downpour that soaked Benji through as he jogged across the flooded pavement and climbed into his car. He put the key in the ignition, started the engine. Victor might come out looking for him so he had to leave. Thunder rumbled noisily overhead as he pulled out onto the road with no destination in mind, just an urgent need to run.

Sometime later he ended up in the back corner of an empty supermarket lot. He parked far enough away from a street light that hopefully no one would drive by and notice him there, and then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat with a shaking hand, removed the flask, and began to drink.

Chapter 16: Futile Devices

Chapter Text

The morning broke bright and painful, rays of sunlight streaming sharp as knives through the rain-spotted windshield. Everything hurt. There was a throbbing, crushing ache in his skull, nausea churning in his belly, and his body felt stiff all over from having passed out in the driver’s seat of the car, slumped against the door. He opened it a second later, heaving the contents of his stomach onto the pavement.

It was five till six in the morning. They were supposed to pick up the machine from the repair shop at six-thirty and then finally head back to Atlanta. Benji had to return to the motel now if they were going to make it on time.

He had no idea where he was, but fortunately his phone had just enough battery left to provide directions. Driving was so incredibly difficult. Every time he hit the brakes his stomach lurched. The glint of light on the windows of the cars around him had him wincing, squinting his eyes, nearly missing the moment when the truck in front of him slowed down to make a turn. A few minutes later he accidentally hit the gas at an intersection and went straight through the end of a yellow light transitioning to red.

A cold sweat had broken out all across his skin by the time he pulled into the motel parking lot at last. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it. There was a long list of missed calls and unread texts from Victor the night before, a few of which he caught glimpses of as he swiped them away, saying things like: “Where are u?” and “Benji please just call me” and “I’m worried about you. Just let me know that you’re ok”. Benji’s guilt had grown teeth; soon it was going to rend him apart.

He sent Victor a brief message.

I’m sorry about last night. I’m in the parking lot now, please come down

He rested his head against his forearms on the steering wheel and tried to breathe. A short while later the sound of the driver’s side door opening had him startling awake.

Benji looked up and met Victor’s eyes. For a long moment neither of them spoke.

“I’m really sorry,” Benji said at last. The words made him want to cringe. They sounded so pathetic, so grossly inadequate.

“Have you been drinking?” Victor asked him, even though the answer to that was probably obvious. Benji looked away from him, nodding. “So, what, you spent the night at a bar or something?”

“No. I just… I just drove somewhere quiet. Drank in the car. I didn’t drive back here until this morning.”

Victor was silent again for a moment, and then finally he held his hand out and said, “Come on. Get up. You can rest in the passenger seat or the back or whatever. I’ll drive.”

For just a second Benji considered protesting that he was fine, but the lie would be so blatantly obvious and he’d f*cked up so much already that in the end he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Benji let Victor pull him carefully to his feet, Victor’s arm shooting out to steady him when he swayed a little. They walked over to the passenger side together and Victor helped him climb in. His hands were so warm against Benji’s cold skin, frozen after a long night spent sleeping in the car in January. Benji didn’t deserve that warmth but he nevertheless longed for it with everything in him.

There was no way Victor could lift the espresso machine on his own, and Wally certainly wouldn’t be able to help, so Benji had to assist him with it when they got to the shop. The effort left him winded and dizzy, dangerously close to throwing up again, but he managed to swallow down the fresh wave of nausea and get back into the car beside Victor. After plugging in their destination on his phone, Victor pulled back onto the road, headed for the highway.

For a long time neither of them spoke. Victor didn’t even bother to turn on one of his playlists, just sitting there with his knuckles white against the wheel, staring stone-faced out the windshield. Such a long time passed that Benji rested his head against the window wearily and began to drift. He was half-asleep by the time Victor drew in a deep breath and asked, “What happened last night? Why did you run away from me like that?”

Benji had been dreading that question from the moment he returned to consciousness that morning. He had no idea what to say.

“I don’t… I can’t talk about it,” Benji said. “I’m so sorry, but I just can’t.”

Victor’s jaw clenched. “Isn’t there anything you can tell me? About why you left, about why you’ve looked so worn out and sick all week, about the tattoo and why you’re so scared of me-” He cut himself off abruptly, swallowing hard as he tried to regain his composure. “I know I’m not… I’m not your boyfriend, I’m not your soulmate. But I’m here and I care about you. Whether you want me to or not, I do, so please… Please talk to me.”

Benji had never felt weaker before in his life. He owed Victor the truth, he knew that, but he couldn’t make himself say it, no matter how hard he tried. He was a failure in every sense of the word. He was his father’s son, a coward that ran away to the nearest bottle as soon as things got hard. If he stayed, would he leave Victor as broken one day as Paul had left Ruth? Pilar had said that being with Benji was playing with fire and she’d been right. If only he’d been strong enough to heed her warning.

“I’m sorry,” Benji repeated softly, brokenly. “I’m sorry but I can’t talk about it. I wish I could, I know that you deserve better than this, but I just can’t right now.”

Victor pulled one hand away from the wheel to scrub across his face, breathing roughly for a moment through his nose. Finally he calmed, and in a tight voice he said, “Fine. Let’s just… Let’s just listen to the radio then.”

As exhausted as Benji was, as much as he wanted to close his eyes and escape the awful tension between them, sleep simply wouldn’t come to him after that. Benji rested his aching head against the cold glass and listened to the faint sound of human voices while they drove on and on and never spoke a word.

Back in Atlanta hours later, they dropped off the espresso machine at Brasstown and then Victor insisted on driving Benji home.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m okay now, really. Besides, how are you going to get home if you do?”

But Victor was already climbing back into the driver’s seat. “It’s fine. I’ll just catch the bus to campus. It’s not safe for you to be driving right now.”

Benji had driven in far worse states than the one he was currently in and been fine, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Victor. So he sighed and got back into the passenger side for another twenty minutes of awkward silence. When they pulled up in front of Benji’s building, neither of them made any move to get out right away. Benji realized then that if he didn’t say what needed to be said now, he might never do it. And this was the very least he could give Victor; what he should have given him days, probably weeks, ago.

“Victor… what we’ve been doing lately, it’s not working anymore,” Benji forced himself to say, despite how the words felt like acid on his tongue. He’d barely even begun and this already hurt so f*cking bad. “We said before that we’d try to be friends but we never really did that, did we? We just jumped right into this thing – right into sleeping together – and maybe that was a mistake. I think that deep down we probably both knew that, and that’s why we never really talked about it.”

“What are you saying? You’re-” Victor stopped, his hands clenching into fists so tight and bloodless they were nearly as pale as Benji’s. “You’re ending things? You want to go back to how things were before, when we were just coworkers?”

Benji nodded. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to apologize and take it all back. But he couldn’t, he had to do this, he had to stop himself from hurting Victor ever again. “I’m really, really sorry, but it’s for the best. You know this isn’t going to work-”

“Who says it won’t?” Victor demanded then, a depth of anger in his voice that surprised Benji. “How do we know that when we’ve never really tried? Look, I don’t understand what happened last night, but I do get that you’re scared, and I’m pretty sure I know exactly what it is that you’re scared of. Honestly, I’m kind of scared of this, too. I know that us being together would be hard. I know that we both have a lot of baggage, and that some people would disapprove, and probably some would even hate us simply for being ourselves. But just because it would be hard doesn’t mean we have to give up on it. It doesn’t mean that this isn’t something worth fighting for-”

“Victor, please – we both know that if this continues, it’s going to end badly-”

“I don’t know that!” Victor said loudly, a combination of frustration and determination lending force to the words. “Pilar said something to you, didn’t she? Ever since that night we ran into her at the bar you’ve been avoiding me. Let me guess, she told you to stay away from me, right? f*ck, she had no right to stick her nose into this. I am so tired of everyone else deciding that they know what’s best for me, acting like I need to be protected, like my heart is this delicate thing that can be broken so easily… But I’m not delicate. I’m not fragile. Who I choose to be with is my own business, and I want this. Benji, I want you, I care about you so much-”

“Who I choose is my business, too,” Benji interrupted then, because he couldn’t bear to hear those words from Victor right now. This was already so hard, it already felt like he was ripping his own heart out of his chest, pulling it bloody and mangled and broken into the light, and he couldn’t stand the awful sight of it. “I should also be allowed to have a choice and I never chose any of this! I never chose to feel this way about you. I never chose to be this way, and I f*cking hate it!”

The previous night he had come so close to surrendering. He couldn’t deny anymore that he wanted this, too, that he wanted Victor just as badly as Victor seemed to want him. But the tattoo was beginning to fade again, no doubt connected to Victor in some way that Benji didn’t understand. It had been a harsh reminder of what he’d forgotten when he’d been so wrapped up in Victor and their own private little microcosm back there in the motel. Someone or something was controlling both of them, moving them about like puppets on strings, forcing them toward a fate neither of them had chosen. A fate that made no sense, because it meant being someone Benji’s father would have hated; because someone like Benji could never be good enough for Victor; because it was a fate that might cost them both so much.

Because it was a fate that could only end in Victor’s heart being broken yet again despite all that Victor said to the contrary. He could already see it beginning to happen now, hairline fractures forming in Victor’s anger, cracking him open, threatening to leave him just as broken as Benji himself was.

Benji reached down deep for whatever strength he could find. Even if Victor couldn’t see it, Benji was doing this for him. “Please listen to me when I say that we have to stop. That’s what I’m choosing, Victor. I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have, and I know that that’s what would happen if we let this continue. I’m so, so sorry.”

“She was wrong,” Victor insisted stubbornly, his voice thick now with the tears that Benji could tell he was just barely holding back. “Pilar was wrong about us, and so are you. When we’re together, everything finally makes sense. It feels like I’m right where I’m meant to be, like all those years living with this name on my skin and all I went through was worth it because it led me to you. The truth is that I’m falling in love with you, Benji, and even though you’re nameless – even though you don’t want to accept this – I think you feel the same way about me. I know that you’re scared and you keep holding yourself back, but in those moments when you open up to me… you seem so happy. Like all those things you’ve been carrying around, all the stuff you won’t talk to me about, like it just gets a little bit lighter when we’re together. Like maybe I can help you carry some of that burden. All I want is to make you feel that way all the time, for as long as you’ll let me. But-” The tears broke free then, and Victor paused as he rubbed them away, his voice breaking slightly on the words that followed, “But if you really want to stop then we will. I won’t bother you, I won’t – I won’t get in your way anymore.”

Benji’s throat was too constricted to form a response. He simply nodded in acknowledgment, and then they were both silently stepping out of the car, Victor’s fingers brushing lightly against Benji’s palm as he handed over the keys. Benji closed his eyes when he heard the sound of Victor’s footsteps. He couldn’t bear to watch him walk away.

Again and again he told himself that he’d made the right choice, and couldn’t understand why this felt like the worst mistake of his life.

He didn’t see Victor again until Tuesday morning, when Victor walked into the back room as Benji was pulling stuff out of his locker and dropping it into a small box. Victor’s eyes momentarily widened in alarm when they took Benji in, and Benji didn’t need to see his reaction to know that he looked like sh*t, that his hair was an unwashed mess, that his face was shadowed and lined, that his mom had been right about him losing weight these past months. He turned a little, trying to keep his back to Victor as he grabbed the last few items.

“I didn’t think you were working today,” Victor said warily.

“I’m not,” Benji confirmed. He faced Victor again, a little reluctantly, and wished Victor would step aside so that he could get past him to the door. “I’m just here to pick up my stuff. I’m, uh… I’m transferring to another location.”

Victor had been staring down at the apron in his hands, but that was enough to make his head fly up, shock written across his face. “Is this because of me?”

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s for both of us, really. We were never very good at just keeping things professional before. It will be easier this way.”

“Benji, you don’t have to do that-” Victor protested, a note of panic in his voice that left Benji aching.

“Yes, I do,” Benji said gently. “I need the space. It’s hard for me to be around you right now.”

“Okay,” Victor said, a little shakily, “okay, I guess I’ll just… I’ll just see you around then. Maybe later we can try again to – to just be friends.”

God, this hurt so much. He’d been hoping he could just quietly pick up his stuff and go, that he wouldn’t run into Victor. It was why he’d arrived well before Victor’s shift started, but Victor had come in early. Benji shouldn’t have been surprised; luck had never really been on his side.

“I think it’s best if we stay out of each other’s way,” Benji told him, trying to speak as softly as he could, even though he knew there was no way to avoid the pain that he was inflicting. Victor nodded, eyes downcast. A moment later he quietly walked away, out to the main room.

Benji set the box down on the table and pressed a hand to his face, catching the tears that were threatening to spill. He just had to hold it together a little while longer; just long enough to walk through the cafe, down the street, into the car. Once he was alone, once he was safe, then he could allow himself to fall apart.

But just as he was drawing in a steadying breath and preparing to leave, someone else entered the room.

“Hey,” Dave said, glancing down at the box. “I heard about your transfer from Sarah. Can’t believe you’re really leaving us.”

Benji just nodded, more than ready to get the f*ck out of there and back to his apartment. Now it was Dave who was blocking his path, impossible to slip past without seeming rude.

An unusually hesitant expression crossed Dave’s face and then he asked, “Did something happen with Victor?”

Benji stared at him in shock. “What?”

Dave just looked back at him neutrally. “Did you two, like, break up or something?”

Icy panic was building up around Benji’s lungs. He couldn’t draw in a breath. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, Benji, I’m not blind. There was obviously something going on with you guys, and judging by the sudden transfer and how depressed you both look today, I’m guessing it didn’t end so well.”

“I – I, uh-”

Dave rolled his eyes. “I don’t care that you’re gay. I don’t see why this whole thing with you and Victor had to be such a big secret in the first place. I mean, if it’s over now then it doesn’t really matter, but you could’ve just told us. Most people here would probably be fine with it. You know Sarah’s about as liberal as they come.”

Benji continued to stare at him, dumbfounded not only by the fact that Dave was being so direct about all of it, but also by how cavalier he was about Benji coming out.

“You think it’s that easy?” Benji found himself asking then, suddenly and unexpectedly angry. “You’re straight, aren’t you, Dave?” Dave nodded, and before he could respond Benji continued, “So what the hell would you know about any of this? Do you get that people are fired all the time just for being gay? That they lose their families, their friends, their livelihoods? You think I should have risked the job I’d been happy with for two years just because most people here would ‘probably be fine with it’?”

“Sorry,” Dave said, taken aback by Benji’s tirade. “I just thought that coming out would be a good thing. Right? Don’t you want to be able to be yourself?”

He was so tired, and so full of self-loathing for all that he’d done to Victor, for the way Victor had barely even been able to look at him a few minutes earlier. He couldn’t deal with some straight guy lecturing him on how great coming out would be.

Benji had never been able to be himself, not really. Not except for a few moments that he’d shared with Victor, and now that was over.

“People like you get to be yourselves without it costing you anything,” Benji ground out, weary from his hangover and more than a week of sleepless nights and an entire lifetime of lying and hiding and watching almost everyone else around him take their own freedom for granted. “It doesn’t work that way for people like me.”

When Benji left, Victor must have been in the supply room or something because as he walked out of the place that had been a second home to him for years with little more than a harried “Take care” from Sarah, Victor was nowhere to be seen. Benji was grateful for the small mercy, but some selfish part of him had been secretly hoping for one more parting look.

Days, all one kind, went chasing each other. Benji slept and ate little and drank continuously, growing emotionally and physically sicker by the hour. His coworkers at the new Brasstown location asked if he was all right and believed him when he reassured them that he was fine, just recovering from a stomach virus. His mother stopped by again but Benji pretended not to be home, and Lake continued to call, and his band mates grew annoyed with him when he performed abysmally at band practice. Once again Derek pulled him aside and pleaded with him to take better care of himself.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. He felt more alone than he ever had before in his life, despite all the people trying to reach out to him. He was constantly plagued by guilt and memories of Victor – Victor’s smiles and Victor’s tears, Victor opening up to him and sharing his secrets, Victor begging Benji to just talk to him in return, Victor claiming that all he wanted was the chance to make Benji happy… Maybe what hurt the most was that he’d been right about that. Benji had been happy with him, and he was abjectly miserable without him, and sometimes late at night he sat outside on his balcony or laid awake in bed and just stared at Victor’s contact on his phone. It would be so easy to call or to text. All it would take was a few seconds and then Victor would probably come to him, like he always had before.

As desperately as he wanted to, he never allowed himself to do it. Sometimes he distracted himself by staring at the portrait instead. Other times the very sight of it made him want to tear it into a thousand pieces, and he had to flip it over or cover it with an old sheet just to stop himself from feeling like he was losing his mind.

About a week and a half after he’d transferred to the new cafe, on a Thursday night, Benji woke suddenly to a banging on his door. He shot up in alarm and felt everything – his stomach, his head, the room around him – lurch sickeningly like a ship on rough waters. The pounding continued until he finally pushed himself onto his feet and crossed the room on shaky legs. When he opened the door at last he found Lake staring back at him with a look of fierce determination on her face, which instantly melted into a horrified expression as her gaze ran over him.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, and then suddenly stepped forward to wrap her arms around him in a crushing hug that made his head swim. “Oh Benji…”

After a while she pulled back, wiping at her eyes, and then said firmly, “Get your jacket. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Benji blinked at her, his brain moving too slowly to make sense of anything. “What are you talking about? Where are we going?”

“To the hospital,” Lake answered, and Benji immediately began backing away from her.

“No. Why would we do that? I don’t wanna go anywhere, I’m fine-”

“You’re not fine, Benji! You’re sick. I’m so sorry I didn’t try to come find you before, but I’ve had a lot going on lately, too. I’m here now, though, and I’m going to take you to get some help.”

“I don’t need help, and I definitely don’t need to go to the hospital just for havin’ a few drinks this afternoon,” Benji argued belligerently. His tongue felt thick and lazy. He was probably slurring but he was too out of it to know for sure.

“I was knocking on the door for about ten or fifteen minutes before you responded, and from the looks of you that’s probably because you were unconscious. You look awful, Benji. You-” Lake’s voice broke and she had to clear her throat before continuing. “You’re so pale. You look like a ghost.”

She grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair, held out it out to him. “Come on. Put this on and let’s get going.”

Benji shook his head, moving further back into the apartment until he felt the edge of the mattress bump up against his legs. He sat down on it heavily, losing his balance a little and steadying himself with a hand on the wall.

“M’not going anywhere. I’ll be fine, Lake. I just need to sleep this off.”

Lake set the jacket down again and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t just sleep off this kind of alcohol poisoning like it’s nothing. I’ve been talking to people. Derek, Victor, your friend Dave from Brasstown… They all say that you’ve been like a zombie the past few weeks. That you’re depressed, that you look skinny and unhealthy, that you don’t talk to anyone-”

Benji’s heart began to thud anxiously at the list of names Lake had just provided. “You’ve been talking to people? About me?”

“Yes,” Lake said unapologetically. “I didn’t want to at first. I thought I should try to be discreet about this – and I am trying to be – but you keep avoiding me, ignoring all my texts and phone calls, and I didn’t know what else to do. So, yeah, I talked to some people about you, and everyone is really worried. Victor is really worried.”

This was too much, the way she had emphasized Victor’s name just then made no sense and it terrified him, and his drunken, barely functioning mind couldn’t process any of it. He just kept shaking his head as his pulse raced and he struggled not to vomit.

“Look, I’m here tonight because I want to help you,” Lake said softly, taking a careful step closer to him. “I’m here because I care about you, just like Derek and Dave and Mia and Felix all care about you. Just like Victor cares about you. We all just want to see you get better. Will you please come with me?” She came a little bit closer, and Benji’s breath quickened with the urge to run. “Please, Benji – please let me help you.”

“No, I can’t, I can’t go-” Benji mumbled, too wasted to be coherent, too far gone to understand anything except for the fear that was eating him alive. Lake took one more step toward him, prompting him to jump suddenly to his feet. The abrupt movement made him stumble, tipping forward and falling before he even realized what was happening. Lake reached out to him, her hand grabbing hold of his arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop the descent.

The breath was knocked out of him as his side crashed into the nightstand, and then a fraction of a second later his head slammed into the wall behind it with a loud thud. Reverberations of pain shook through him but he felt distant, detached from it all. This far below the surface he could hardly feel anything.

Lake was trying to pull him back onto his feet even as he pushed himself away from the wall with a shaking hand. As soon as he was upright he yanked himself out of her grasp, nearly falling again as he rushed away from her toward the door. The only thought in his head at that moment was escape. He snatched the jacket on his way by the table and then he was out in the dark stairwell, pounding down the steps to the parking lot, ignoring the sound of Lake calling after him.

He tripped again just as he was nearing his car but managed to catch himself against the hood, shoving off again quickly and ignoring the way his vision was blurring in and out of focus. Lake was running down the sidewalk, shouting his name, begging him to stop. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and held the button down to unlock the doors, just barely climbing inside before she caught up with him.

Run, his brain commanded, run as far as you can, it doesn’t matter where, just run – don’t let them find you, don’t let them see you for what you really are –

So Benji started the engine and pulled out, his foot slamming down too hard on the pedal and causing the car to jerk forward through the parking lot toward the road. He eased off the gas as he made the turn, and then it was just one dark street after another, each one a blur of lights and sounds that made no sense, everything coming to him slowly through the underwater filter of intoxication and mindless panic, his every reaction slightly delayed or slightly too abrupt. A flash of light to his right made him swerve left, nearly driving into oncoming traffic before he corrected himself at the last minute. He squinted into the mirror and realized it had just been an electronic sign for a shopping center. Words scrolled across the screen as impenetrable as hieroglyphics as it faded into the distance. Benji turned his gaze back to the road ahead just as the car in front him came to a stop.

A minute or an hour later, it was impossible to say, he sailed through an intersection, the furious blare of a horn the only thing that alerted him to the fact that he’d just run a red light. His palms were sweaty, sliding wetly across the vinyl steering wheel. Shivers ran through his body, making his muscles ache, and that thumping bass track in his brain was back again, beating in time with his frantic pulse. He was pretty sure it would hurt a lot if he could feel it. Each breath was shorter and faster than the last.

Maybe this was it. Maybe he’d finally stayed under too long and this was what it felt like to drown. I should have been a pair of ragged claws, he thought to himself bleakly, deliriously.

A quiet part of the city. The road was emptier, darker. One side was lined by houses, the other by the tall, looming shapes of large trees, their boughs hanging like outstretched arms. A sudden sense of claustrophobia pervaded everything. It made him think of all that he was running from. It made him think of the name on his ribs, of the tattoo melting away into nothing (there was so little of it left now). It made him think of the architect, the puppeteer, whoever or whatever it was that had taken away that last piece of Benji’s autonomy. Run, the voice in his mind urged again, run, run, run -

Benji’s foot sank down harder on the pedal. It felt as though the car was propelled forward not by an engine or gasoline but by the sheer force of Benji’s fear and desperation, accelerating to a breakneck speed, hurtling through the shadows to anywhere that wasn’t here. He had to get away from all of it, from fate and from Victor and from his loneliness, from the shame and the rage and the lack of choice, but most of all from himself.

Run, the voice said, and then, suddenly – STOP –

Movement on the road, something bright, a pale figure, lit up in the headlights – something small, an animal or maybe a child – Benji’s foot slammed down hard on the brake but it was too close, he was going to hit whatever it was – his hands jerked the wheel sideways as fast as he could – he was careening out and away, he missed the thing in the road, but he bounced roughly over the curb instead, head snapping forward and then back again, losing his grip on the wheel as the car flew over the sidewalk – and then the bulk of some dark mass rushing toward him – and then impact.

Chapter 17: World to Come

Chapter Text

It was dark and cold at first, and then bright and cold. He was alone and then there were hands gripping him, moving him, he was being lifted – he couldn’t stop shivering, couldn’t stop the chattering of his teeth – then muffled sounds of voices and high pitched beeping, all of it just barely audible past the incessant ringing in his ears – and finally a place so intensely bright it hurt. He pinched his eyes shut against the visual assault. Throughout all of it the cold was pervasive, bone deep, the kind of cold that made your muscles clench and your jaw lock, the kind of cold that seemed as though it might never truly go away.

It followed him even as everything else began, little by little, to fade into nothing.

What came next was a darkness more complete than any he’d ever experienced before. The closest he’d come to something like it in the waking world had been that time he’d gone caving with his dad as a kid in the Appalachian Mountains. After a twenty minute walk through one of the main branches of the cave system, they’d stopped and turned their flashlights off, just to see what it would be like. He remembered how it had felt like the darkness there was a physical presence, that it was all around him, close enough to touch, and yet as his eyes moved he couldn’t find it, couldn’t see anything, not even the faintest hint of light. Thirty seconds later he was flipping the switch back on and blinking at the sudden blinding beam cutting through the thick shadows, illuminating his dad’s startled face and the damp rock walls of the cavern surrounding them.

That may have been the closest thing to this he’d ever experienced, but it was nothing like it, really. This wasn’t a presence; it was an absence. An absence of light and sound and form, an absence of gravity and movement. An absence of life. But most of all it was an absence of warmth. This place – if it could even be called that – was a hungry, gaping void, an open mouth, lacking everything except for the darkness and the cold that constituted all that it was.

For a long time, or maybe a short time, or maybe no time at all, Benji was trapped there. If those thirty seconds in the cave as a nine year old had terrified him, they had nothing on this.

Everything he was boiled down to fear and cold and remorse. He lamented and he suffered and he repented, and through it all he somehow went on existing.

Then into the void came a change.

It started with a pinprick point of something, something tiny but extant, something that ever so gradually grew larger. It was more than simply a light, more than simply a source of life-giving heat. It was a relief so great he would have cried if he’d had the capability. It was grace. It was hope.

The process lasted an instant or a millennium and then at last the darkness had been fully banished, finally taking that aching, teeth-clenching, closed-fist icy cold with it.

And what remained was everything that the void had lacked: sunlight dappling a field of ripe yellow and vibrant green grasses, which swayed like the waves of a vast ocean beneath a gentle breeze. Interspersed among their stalks were tall stands of wildflowers giving forth sweet fragrances. Anemone and Blue Toadflax, Purple Aster and Bellflowers – all the ones his dad had taught him the names of on camping and hiking trips long ago, most of which he’d forgotten over the years, but he knew them all now just as well as he had as a child. And at the center of the endless meadow stood a great oak tree with broad, spreading branches, casting all below it in cool shade, sheltering the velvety moss and pale lichens that grew around its base and nurturing delicate Coral Bells and Columbine. Birds nested among its leafy boughs while gray squirrels darted like acrobats through the heights. Nearby a brook could be heard babbling brightly as it meandered past, accompanied by the hum of crickets and the low croaking of toads. And above it all were blue skies scudded by fluffy white clouds, stretching on and on into eternity.

The soil was soft beneath his bare feet when he stepped forward, strongly earthy smelling as though it had recently rained. It was a beautiful, rich brown, full of vitality, containing unknown secrets and wealth. If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. It was as soft and as rich as the color of Victor’s eyes. Benji walked until he came to the huge trunk of the great tree and then he sat down carefully among the grasses and the moss and the flowers, leaning back against the solid wood, and rested there.

In the distance he thought he heard someone singing. Note by note it grew louder, clearer. A man’s voice, smooth and sure, singing in a language Benji didn’t understand even though the melody was so familiar. In those foreign words was a sadness and a longing that he recognized, a loneliness that he himself had also borne, and a hope that had his soul responding, a little shyly, a little warily, in kind.

Benji took in every detail of the world around him, appreciated it fully, and then immediately felt it fade away again. He would remember almost none of this. That is, if he ever returned to his body and was given a chance to remember anything at all.

Eventually he could feel it beginning: a resurrection, a second chance. First there was the sound of voices and an electronic hum, followed by a sensation of cold creeping in slowly and a growing awareness of pain. As consciousness made its gradual return, all that he was able to hold onto from the world before – the world to come – was a memory of peace, and sunlight, and the knowledge that someone else had been there with him. Someone warm and strong, who had seen every part of him and accepted it all, who had wrapped him in a tight embrace and loved him unconditionally.

Benji woke to the sound of his own name. He was disoriented at first, struggling to blink open gummy eyelids crusted with the salt of dried tears. It was so bright. Someone was holding his hand, squeezing gently. He heard that voice call his name again.

“Mom?” Benji forced out past dry lips and a constricted throat. The inside of his mouth felt strange, his tongue thick and unwieldy. There was something on his face, tickling the skin under his nose. He reached a hand up to touch it and felt smooth plastic underneath his fingers.

“Oh, Benji, schatzi,” his mother’s voice said, thick with her own tears, and when he opened his eyes enough to find her he could see that her cheeks were glistening brightly. “Oh, thank god…”

She leaned down then and hugged him, as gently as she could, her hands soft and warm on his shoulders. He could hear the sound of her crying and it made him want to cry, too, but he was too out of it to really feel much of anything. The whole world was fuzzy, his brain most of all, barely processing all the sensory details he was suddenly being bombarded with. Ruth pulled away after a long while, pressing a kiss against his forehead before she finally stepped back.

As soon as she did someone else was moving toward him, someone he hadn’t noticed at first. There were tears tracing narrow trails down Asa’s cheeks as well but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. He just came close and hugged Benji, too, whispering, “I’m so glad you’re okay, B.”

“Missed you guys,” Benji mumbled, as if he’d just returned from a long journey. He was so tired. His eyelids were already beginning to droop again, becoming a little harder to pry open each time they slipped shut.

Just before he drifted off once more, he heard his mother say, “We missed you, too, honey. We missed you so much.”

He woke again sometime later, far more coherent, but with awareness came a crushing wave of pain. There was a throbbing in his skull, concentrated on the right side of his head near his temple, and a corresponding throbbing in his left knee. When he tried to shift his leg to alleviate the ache it only grew immediately worse, causing him to gasp and clench his fist in the sheets.

“Benji, are you all right?” Ruth asked in concern. She reached for a kind of remote control near the bed, pressed a button on it.

A moment later a slightly tinny voice said, “Hi, do you need your nurse?”

“Yes, my son just woke up and he seems to be in pain,” Ruth replied smoothly, although Benji could see the worry that was furrowing her brow. She was holding his hand again, her thumb moving in soothing circles over his skin.

“What’s wrong?” Asa said, hovering over the opposite side of the bed.

“My knee,” Benji explained, “my knee hurts really bad, and my head…”

“What do you remember from last night?” Ruth asked.

Images returned to him piecemeal: dark city streets, Lake at his apartment, trying to stand up and falling, a small white figure, a black looming shape…

“I… I was in a car accident,” Benji said slowly. “I’d been-” He stopped, swallowed down the shame, forced himself to say it, “I’d been drinking at home, and my friend came over to talk to me. We argued, and then I – then I got in my car and started driving. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I just wanted to get away… But then there was something in the road, so I swerved, and I hit something. I don’t remember what it was.”

“It was a tree,” Ruth answered, her voice tight and small, like it was taking all her effort to remain calm. “A huge oak tree. The front half of your car was completely totaled. It was a miracle you weren’t killed.” She paused for a moment just to breathe, visibly putting herself back together. When she spoke next it was her nurse voice, cool and matter of fact. “You have some swelling and bruising around your left knee from banging it against the dashboard, and a bump near your right temple. Your friend Lake told me you fell and hit your head at home, is that right? The doctor said you probably had a mild concussion as a result. They gave you some pain medication earlier this morning, but it’s obviously worn off by now.”

Just then a nurse in a set of navy scrubs entered the room. She introduced herself as Kate and explained about the device he could use to control when he received a dose of pain medication, and then took a quick look at his knee and the injury on the side of his head. The sight of the puffy, mottled dark blue and purple skin surrounding his kneecap left him feeling woozy. Kate placed ice packs around the damaged area and then helped him to sit up a little in order to arrange his pillow more comfortably, but as soon as he tried to move shooting pains ran down both of his legs.

He drew in a sharp breath, holding himself as still as he could and tried to swallow back an intense wave of nausea. “My legs hurt. I think there’s something wrong with them,” he ground out.

Kate took another look at them, and then ran a finger over the bottom of his foot. He didn’t even realize that she’d done it at first until she asked him, “Do you feel that?”

Benji shook his head, his heart beginning to pound with anxiety.

“Herniated disc?” Ruth said and Kate nodded.

“Seems like it, since he didn’t sustain any other injuries to his legs beside the bruising around the knee.” She turned her attention back to Benji. “I’ll let your doctor know about the leg pain, and I expect she’ll probably come by to check in pretty soon. If there’s anything you need in the meantime, just give me a buzz.”

The doctor did come by about twenty minutes later and ordered an x-ray to check for any lasting damage to his knee and an MRI for the possible back injury. She explained that a herniated disc was common after a car accident and how it could cause nerve pain and numbness, but that it was treatable with physical therapy and medication to manage discomfort. She then added that if it hadn’t resolved within six weeks surgery might be necessary.

The x-ray was done quickly and then he was returned to his room to wait on the MRI. Sitting there fully awake with his mother and Asa was far more awkward now than it had been earlier. He was hyper aware of all of the medical equipment attached to him, the heart monitor and EKG leads, and the IV, and the oxygen cannula, although most embarrassing of all had been the catheter which had been removed shortly before he went to get the x-ray taken. He was such a mess, so weak and pathetic, his ugliest secret now exposed to everyone. He felt humbled by the realization of just how arrogant he’d been before to believe that he was fine, that he didn’t need help. It was hard to acknowledge just how reckless and self-centered he’d been.

For a moment that train of thought carried him back to the night before, to the mad, panicked flight through the darkness, the figure in the road, the massive black shape of what must have been the tree rushing toward the windshield-

He could have died.

He could have killed someone else.

Shame unlike any he’d ever experienced before settled heavily over him, a boulder on his chest, ready to crush him like an insect beneath its merciless weight. He didn’t deserve the second chance he’d been given. He wasn’t worthy.

But worthy or not he was here. He was alive. By some miracle he hadn’t harmed anyone else – not physically anyway, though he could see plainly the emotional damage he’d caused to almost everyone around him. He didn’t deserve this second chance but he’d be even more guilty, even more selfish and pathetic, to not make the most of it.

He was here. He was alive. It was time to start living and time to start making things right.

“I’m so sorry,” Benji said, interrupting the quiet conversation Ruth and Asa had been in the middle of. They both glanced over at him, startled, Ruth’s brows drawing together and Asa’s eyes questioning.

Benji swallowed tightly and said it again. “I am so sorry. For all the hurt I’ve caused, for worrying you guys, and for not being around much these past few years. I’m sorry for lying to you for such a long time, about the drinking and, uh – and about who I really am.”

“Benji, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this now,” Ruth said gently. “You’ve just been through so much.”

Asa stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

It was tempting to put it off till later, but Benji couldn’t take the easy way out anymore. He’d been running away from what was hard for so long and now it was time to stop, and face all that he was afraid of, and find a new way of living. He had almost died without telling them the truth. He had almost died without ever having truly been himself.

Before he’d woken up that morning, he’d had a dream. A dream of somewhere beautiful and safe, a dream of someone holding him and singing to him. He drew on that memory of peace to help him say what had to be said next.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” Benji told his mom. “I waited too long already.” He drew in a deep breath, tilted his chin up, and finally said the words out loud to them. “Mom. Asa. I love you both so much, and I’m sorry for lying to you. I’m sorry for hiding all these years. The truth is that I’m – I’m gay.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding, drew in another. He had said it, and they knew now, and life went on. Another inhale, another exhale. It had been easier than he would have imagined, if he’d ever let himself imagine it, and the relief – the relief was overwhelming. Ruth was looking back at him compassionately, without any surprise, while Asa’s eyes had gone round with shock.

“And I have a name,” he continued, soldiering on despite the terrified pounding of his heart, the trembling in his limbs, the cold sweat prickling the skin of his palms. He reached down and carefully lifted up the side of the hospital gown, keeping his lower half covered by the blankets, and revealed it to them. Benji glanced down at it himself, unsurprised to find that the tattoo was little more than a single, slender arrow piercing through the letters of Victor’s name.

“Victor Manuel Salazar,” Asa read out loud, his voice faint with slowly dawning comprehension. Just then he frowned, looking up at Ruth as he said, “Wait, Victor Salazar… Isn’t that the guy from the cafe, the one who’s here-”

“Victor’s here?” Now it was Benji’s turn to be shocked.

“Yeah, him and your friend Lake and some other guy, I think his name was Felix, they told us what happened last night. I think they might still be out in the waiting room.”

Ruth nodded. “I just went to give them an update while you were getting the x-ray done. They’d like to speak with you when you feel up to it.”

The thought of seeing all of them, seeing Victor, brought back every ounce of that shame he’d experienced earlier and then some. How would he ever be able to look them in the eye? How would he ever be able to find the words to apologize to Victor for all that he had done?

Asa looked back at Benji again, clearly still processing what Benji had just told him, but Benji was relieved to see that he didn’t seem upset or disgusted. “So… how long have you guys been together? You and your soulmate, I mean.”

“Uh, we’re not really. Together. It’s just… It’s complicated,” Benji mumbled, staring down at his hands rather than looking at his family. There was so much that he’d screwed up in life. He was ashamed to let them know just how messy his relationship with Victor had been so far. “But, um – but we met in November at a party, and then by coincidence he started working at Brasstown.”

“So it’s been, like, three months, but you never said anything to us about him. And all your life you never admitted to having a name, either, you apparently just tried to hide it behind a tattoo and pretend it didn’t exist…” Asa trailed off. Benji could hear the hurt in his voice now, the way that he was slowly beginning to realize the depths of how much Benji had hidden from him and lied to him over the years. “Why? Were you ashamed of being gay? Or were you, like, scared that we’d reject you or something?”

Benji hated admitting it but he forced himself to nod. “Yes. Both of those things. I… I’ve been struggling with this for a long time. I hated myself for being gay. I tried so hard not to be, but this is who I am and I can’t deny it anymore. I can’t keep running away from it because doing so nearly killed me. So now I have to figure out how to live with it, how to be okay with it, instead.”

“Well, I don’t reject you or whatever so you can stop worrying about that,” Asa said, offhandedly, like he was trying to play it cool, like it was no big deal, like those words didn’t mean everything to Benji. Even so, Benji could see how much effort it was taking Asa to hold back the hurt he was feeling. “I could never do that. You’re my big brother.” His voice broke a little on the last word, revealing the depth of emotion he’d been trying so hard to downplay, and then just like that he was leaning forward, wrapping Benji up in a tight hug. “I love you. So please don’t hate yourself anymore. Please don’t ever hurt yourself again like you did last night.”

“Love you, too, Asa. And I won’t, I promise. Okay? I promise I’ll try to be better now. To myself and to you guys.”

As soon as Asa had stepped back it was Ruth’s turn to embrace him. “You’re my boy, Benji. Nothing could ever make me stop loving you.” She kissed his forehead again, brushed his hair back behind his ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

Tears blurred his vision. How could she say that after all he’d done? He knew he wasn’t someone to be proud of, but the way that Ruth was looking at him, the love in her eyes as she smiled at him, it made him want to be. Maybe it wasn’t too late to become someone that was truly worthy of her pride.

Benji had thought that he’d take this secret with him to the grave, and he very nearly had. He’d never believed he’d ever get to have a moment like this, in which he told his family the truth and was so easily accepted by them. It didn’t seem fair, really, that he got to have this, when people like Victor and Derek had lost their families just for choosing to be honest with them. Why did Benji of all people deserve acceptance?

He was beginning to understand that just as the trials and injustices of life were unfair, so too were the blessings. You simply had to take what you were given and be grateful for it, because to do anything less would be reprehensible.

Kate came in to check on him and mentioned that it might be another hour before the MRI was available.

“You have some visitors who’ve been waiting to see you. Would you like me to bring them in now?” Kate asked.

Benji hesitated for just a moment, remembering the way Lake had chased after him the night before, trying desperately to stop him from doing something as incredibly reckless and stupid as what he’d ended up doing. And he remembered how Felix had seen him that night at the Christmas party, when Benji had just run off after drinking too much and injuring himself. Now both of them would see him here, laid out in a hospital bed, victim to his own idiocy.

And Victor. Victor unable to look at him in the back room of Brasstown when Benji explained that he needed space, that they couldn’t see each other anymore. Victor begging him not to give up on them, Victor trying so hard to convince Benji that what they had together was something worth fighting for. Victor telling Benji that he was falling in love with him. Victor claiming (correctly) that Benji felt the same way, that Benji was happy when he was with Victor, just as happy as Victor was with him. Victor walking away from him silently when all of his arguments failed and Benji had ended things without ever truly giving them a chance.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready to see anyone yet,” Ruth said cautiously, reaching out to lay her hand on top of Benji’s. “But just remember that your friends care about you. They’ve been sitting in that waiting room since about one in the morning last night, and they were the ones who got in touch with us on Facebook to let us know what had happened because they were so worried when you drove off like that. So maybe it would be good for you to see them, at least for a little bit.”

“Yeah,” Benji agreed, struggling to push down his fear. He knew his mother was right but it was so hard not to be afraid of their potential anger and judgment, not to want to hide away when he was feeling so vulnerable. But they had waited all night for him. This was the least he could do. He looked to Kate and said, “Okay. You can bring them in now.”

About five minutes later Kate returned with Lake and Felix in tow. As soon as Lake was through the doorway she was tearing up and racing toward him, very nearly flinging herself on top of him before she seemed to realize at the last moment that he was injured. She hugged him carefully then instead, whispering, “I’m so happy that you’re okay, Benji. God, I was so scared for you…”

When she pulled back she very lightly smacked his arm. “If you ever do anything like that again, you will officially lose your status as my number one favorite guy.”

Felix looked wounded. “I thought I was your number one guy!”

Lake said, “Sure, honey, of course you are,” while leaning back down to hug Benji one more time.

Felix didn’t hug him but he did rest a warm hand on Benji’s shoulder for a moment. “I’m really glad you’re doing better now. I hope they get you fixed up so you can go home soon.”

“Thanks,” Benji said warmly, and then paused for just a second before asking, “Where’s, uh… where’s Victor? I heard he was here, too.”

“He, um… he thought it would be better to stay in the waiting room. He didn’t want to come in unless it was okay with you,” Lake explained.

That left Benji aching, knowing that even now Victor was trying to keep to the promise he’d made to stay out of Benji’s way. He’d spent the entire night waiting in the hospital for news about Benji, just to make sure that he was okay, and now Victor wasn’t even sure of his welcome. Benji’s shame turned his stomach.

“I want to see him,” Benji told her. “But first, uh… Lake, could I talk to you privately for a few minutes?”

Ruth and Asa got up from their chairs, and Felix followed them out. “We’ll be right outside if you need us,” Ruth said.

Once they were alone, Benji made himself meet Lake’s eyes and say, “I owe you an apology.”

“Benji, I didn’t come here for that-” Lake tried to interject, but he cut her off.

“No, I know that, but I have to say this. You’ve always been such a good friend to me, and when you tried to reach out I just shut you down over and over again and ignored you. I should have trusted you more. I should have listened to you, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t.”

“It’s okay,” Lake said, “I know that you’ve been sick, and all I wanted to do was encourage you to get some help.” She swallowed thickly, her lower lip trembling a little as she admitted, “I think I owe you an apology, too. Last night I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. You weren’t thinking clearly and I scared you, and maybe none of this would’ve happened if-”

“Lake, stop,” Benji commanded. “You absolutely cannot blame yourself for what happened. I’ve been doing crazy, stupid sh*t like that for a long time, always thinking that I had everything under control, that I wasn’t as messed up as I really was. Me taking off like that last night is something that I have to bear the responsibility for. The truth is that an accident like that could’ve happened on a lot of other occasions, and it was only chance that made it happen yesterday rather than any other day.”

Lake bit her lip, looking a little unsure at first, but Benji stared back at her steadily until she finally nodded in acceptance of what he’d said.

“There’s something else,” he continued nervously, “something I should’ve told you a long time ago-”

“Benji, if this is about you and Victor, then I already know.”

“What?”

Lake let out a sigh. “It was an accident. Felix and I came into the room right after Victor had gotten out of the shower last week and I saw his name. Victor wouldn’t tell me anything about you guys, so I don’t really know what’s going on, but I thought about how Victor’s been acting like he just got dumped lately, and how you never date anyone, and how Mia got upset with you and wouldn’t explain why at the party… So anyway, it seems like something definitely happened with you guys. Right?”

“Yeah. It’s really complicated and we’re not, like… we’re not together, but – I care about him. A lot. And I know he feels the same way about me.” Benji set aside the question of his relationship with Victor for the moment, since it was too hard to explain with a simple answer. “But that’s not really what I wanted to tell you. Lake, I’m… I’m gay. I’m so sorry I never-”

“Really?” Lake interrupted loudly. “There have just been so many women, though! It’s, like, every time I went out with you you’d be hooking up with some new girl. When I saw Victor’ s name I just sort of came to the conclusion that you must be bisexual like me.” Benji blinked at her in shock, and Lake let out a laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m bi, actually. So yeah, you’re not the only one who should be saying sorry for keeping secrets. I do get that coming out is scary and difficult. And since we’re just laying everything out there today, you should also know that I… I have a second name. A woman’s name. It’s not requited, and I don’t really like to talk about it much, but I’m not ashamed of it. Not anymore. It’s taken me a while but lately I’ve been starting to come out to some people, and learning how to be proud of who I am…”

“I want that, too,” Benji whispered, scared to admit it out loud. “But I have no idea how to get there. I’ve hated myself for so long, I even tried to hide my name behind a tattoo… I’m just a total disaster. My whole life is a disaster, really, and I don’t know how I’m going to move forward from all of this-”

To his embarrassment he felt tears begin to well up again, spilling down his cheeks too fast to stop, but Lake didn’t hesitate for even a second before stepping forward to wrap him in a hug again.

“You’ll figure it out, Benji. It’s gonna be hard at first, but I have faith in you, and you have so many people here that can help you along the way. You have your mom and your brother, who both seem really sweet, and you have me and Felix, and I’m pretty sure that you have Victor, too, even if things are ‘complicated’ with you guys,” she laughed a little as she pulled back to smile at him, her own eyes shining. “We all love you. You’re too beautiful a man not to love, Benjamin Campbell. All you have to do is learn how to let us in.”

“I’m going to try,” Benji promised. “I came so close to losing everything. I don’t want to waste any more time living in a way that just hurts myself and everyone else around me.” He gave Lake a smile, and was startled to realize that he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d smiled at someone. It had been days, probably. “I love you, too, Lake. Thank you so much for always being there for me.”

“Of course,” Lake said easily, like it had been no trouble at all, even though they both knew differently. “What are friends for? I wish I’d known that you were gay sooner, though. Now I’m going to have to find myself a new back-up hottie in case things with Felix ever go south.”

Benji rolled his eyes. “Like that would ever happen.”

“Okay, fine, a back-up hottie for when I eventually get Felix to agree to being monogamish,” Lake corrected herself, making Benji shake his head at her in amusem*nt. “It’s a thing, look it up. But speaking of hotties, there’s one out in the waiting room who I think would really like to see you.” She paused for a moment, then asked cautiously, “Want me to go get him for you?”

There was so much he needed to say to Victor, and most of it would be even more difficult than what he’d already managed to tell his family and Lake. He didn’t know if he had the strength for it. But last night he had nearly died, and if he had, his last moments with Victor would have been spent pushing him away and breaking his heart.

This couldn’t wait. Not another day, not another hour. Victor deserved the truth, perhaps more than anyone else, because Benji had betrayed and hurt him the most.

“Yeah,” Benji told Lake. “Could you please ask him if he wants to see me? It’s okay if he doesn’t, but I’d really like to talk to him.”

“Of course. I’ll be back to see you again later, okay? Take care of yourself, Benji.”

She’d barely been gone five minutes before Benji heard the sound of footsteps, and when he glanced up, Victor was there, standing by the door, limned in light. He looked back at Benji with those bright eyes, eyes a rich brown, the color of the earth, and Benji felt something deep inside of him – maybe his heart, maybe his soul – reaching out to a corresponding thing in Victor’s gaze.

As they stared at each other for a long, hopeful moment, from somewhere in the back of Benji’s mind came the memory of a man’s voice, singing sweetly, singing like Victor did when they were alone in the cafe and there was no one but Benji to hear him.

Chapter 18: Between the Shadow and the Soul

Chapter Text

One hot summer’s day when Benji was fifteen Ryan invited him over to his house to go swimming. A couple other guys they were friends with had been invited, too, but for reasons Benji couldn’t remember anymore they hadn’t been able to make it, so in the end it had just been the two of them. They spent all afternoon next to the pool, tossing a Frisbee around in the water, lounging on deck chairs in the shade, listening to music. Benji had secretly been glad it was only them because whenever the other guys were around Ryan was different. He’d talk louder, act co*ckier, join in with them when they joked around about girls. He seemed so artificial, nothing like the boy Benji had known since third grade. Benji preferred the current Ryan to that one. This Ryan, the one that only seemed to exist when they were alone, was more soft-spoken, more humble, more charming. This Ryan would talk for hours with Benji about their favorite bands or books they both liked or almost any topic, really, and it always felt so genuine. This Ryan was honest and funny and kind. This was the Ryan that Benji had been in love with for years.

Even though Benji spent practically all of his time with Ryan, it was often difficult to be around him. It hurt so much to see him flirting with girls at school and to hear in painstaking detail about the dates he went on. They’d gone to Homecoming last year as freshman, Ryan with some girl named Callie and Benji on his own. Only an hour in, Benji had left early claiming to be sick since the sight of Ryan slow-dancing with Callie’s arms around his neck had made Benji want to throw up. As bad as that had been sometimes being alone with him like this was even worse, because there were moments when they felt so close to each other, when Ryan’s eyes caught his and Benji almost allowed himself to believe that maybe it would be possible to lean forward just a little and kiss Ryan again, like he had when they were eleven. Like maybe it would be okay to just reach out and touch, like maybe Ryan might want it, too. But if there was one thing he knew after the awkward months following their camping trip, it was that it wouldn’t really be okay, that Ryan would never actually want him like that, and so Benji was always the first to look away.

By age fifteen Benji was well-practiced in the art of never looking too directly at guys he found attractive. In the locker room or at times like this at the pool he kept his eyes carefully trained on Ryan’s face, on the sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water, on the bright sunflowers edging the yard, on anything but Ryan’s exposed skin.

But on that particular day Benji slipped up.

Ryan had been floating around lazily on his back while Benji sat on the end of a deck chair, sipping a glass of lemonade. Ryan’s eyes were closed, his face as smooth and peaceful as it was in sleep, and for just a moment Benji let himself look. The beat of his heart sped up as he traced over the planes of Ryan’s bare upper body, his strong arms and legs, the muscles that were slowly becoming more defined ever since Ryan had joined the swim team last year. He looked so perfect it left Benji feeling a little light-headed, a little breathless.

It was at that moment, that one brief moment of weakness, when Ryan’s eyes had opened and caught Benji’s gaze running over him. For just a fraction of a second Benji stared back at him in horror, terrified of what Ryan might do or say in response.

But then Ryan had let himself sink beneath the surface and a few moments later popped up a yard or two away, shaking water out of his hair. He’d climbed out of the pool, dried himself off, plopped down on the chair beside Benji. He never said anything about it. Hours went by as Benji hovered on the edge of panic, but they just went back to talking and eating the snacks Ryan’s mom provided and still Ryan never gave any indication that anything was wrong. Eventually Ryan’s dad called them in for dinner, and after that they played video games in Ryan’s room, and still nothing. Ryan just continued to act like everything was normal, and finally Benji began to relax as he convinced himself that he’d probably just imagined the entire thing.

Later that night Benji called his mom to let her know he’d be sleeping at Ryan’s. It was a common enough occurrence that there was a sleeping bag and pillow ready for him in Ryan’s closet and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. They brushed their teeth just like always, changed into t-shirts and boxers, sat around on the bed talking for a while and listening to music. And then, out of nowhere, Ryan had asked, “Why’d you cover up your name?”

They had been talking about something completely unrelated, so it took Benji’s brain a second to catch up. “What?” he’d blurted out dumbly, before protesting, “I didn’t. I told you before, I’m nameless-”

“I know that’s bullsh*t, Benji. Come on, I’m your best friend. Can’t you at least tell me the truth?”

Heart-pounding, rapid breathing, cold sweat fear. That was what Ryan’s question had induced in him. All Benji had been able to do in response was lie. “I did tell you the truth. I’m nameless. You really think I’d make something like that up?”

Ryan had stared him down pointedly. He’d looked so handsome in the half-light, hair shining golden, eyes as green as growing things and glittering brightly. So handsome and so untouchable. He whispered, “I know that you hid your name behind your tattoo. It’s obvious. And I think I know why you did it, too.”

“Jesus,” Benji bit out, his fear evolving into angry defensiveness, “fine, if you’re not going to listen to me then just believe whatever the f*ck you want-”

Before Benji’s protests could continue any further, he’d been suddenly interrupted by the one thing he never could have dreamed would happen again: Ryan’s lips on his, kissing him hard, like the force of that gesture was Ryan’s closing argument, leaving no more room for debate.

Benji hadn’t thought then, he’d simply reacted. As Ryan began to pull away from him Benji’s hand flew up to the back of his head, dragging him back in and keeping him close. Their mouths met once more and it was unlike anything Benji had ever felt before. This was what kissing was supposed to feel like, like one of those too-strong mixed drinks someone might hand him at a party, tasting more of booze than soda, going straight to his blood. He’d never realized just how sober his kisses with girls had left him feeling until that moment.

That initial kiss had led to another and another, and when Ryan slowly moved to lie on his back on the mattress it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Benji to follow him down. A heated make out session followed, ending in the exchange of inexperienced but still pretty mind-blowing hand-jobs. It had felt incredible, but even better in some ways than the rush of sex had been the minutes they’d spent just lying there together in the afterglow, one of Ryan’s arms curled around Benji’s shoulders, Benji’s head on his chest. The sound of Ryan’s heartbeat gradually slowing had been the first ever countdown to the end, to the moment someone pushed someone else away, but Benji hadn’t recognized it yet for what it was. He would learn about that later; learn about what to expect and what to allow others to expect from him.

In that moment he was simply happy, and all he’d heard in the sound of that steady rhythm was a whisper of what might have been returned affection; a sense of finally being as close to Ryan as he’d always longed to be.

He had wanted Ryan for so long and never believed that he could have him. Those minutes he spent lying wrapped in Ryan’s arms were some of the best of his life. He’d never felt so good; he’d never felt so free.

(Until he met Victor.)

And then Ryan had said, “Hey, uh, I’m gonna go to sleep now. You should probably get back in the sleeping bag.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Okay.” The sudden loss of Ryan’s warmth when he pulled away left Benji so cold despite the heat of the summer night. Aching, he swallowed down his pain, forced himself not to let it show as he climbed off the bed.

“It’s too hot to share,” Ryan had said, and then added quietly, “besides, someone might walk in on us.”

“It’s fine,” Benji reassured him, even though sliding into the sleeping bag by himself, being so close to what he’d always longed for and a million miles away all at once had hurt like a physical wound. Ryan was near enough that Benji could hear the sound of his breathing; he was far enough that those two or three feet might as well have contained oceans.

The next morning Ryan was acting strange around him, keeping his distance, making sure they never came into physical contact. He wouldn’t meet Benji’s eyes when he spoke to him. Usually after staying the night Benji would hang around for a while, maybe play more video games or watch some TV, but that day he left right after breakfast. Ryan had smiled and said he’d call Benji the next day, but he didn’t, and in the end nearly a week passed before they saw each other again.

When they did it was with all of the other guys around, loud, competitive, fake. All the usual jokes about girls and sex, Josh teasing Benji about when he would finally get another girlfriend, Ryan staring down hard at the floor like he was ashamed to know Benji’s secret. It had been at that moment that Benji had realized nothing would ever happen with them again. That Ryan already regretted it, that it had just been some kind of experiment to him, that he’d never love Benji back the way Benji loved him. So Benji had had to smile through the heartbreak and laugh at the teasing and tell the other guys that he was going to ask Sarah Adams out the next time he saw her. He didn’t miss the flash of relief in Ryan’s eyes when he’d said it.

He and Ryan were never quite the same after that. Benji dated one girl after another in an attempt to feel even a fraction of what he’d felt that night with Ryan, and watched as Ryan got back together with Callie, the two of them lasting an entire school year. At some point that year Benji secretly started hooking up with a guy from his English class and getting drunk as often as he could, but none of it ever quite succeeded in making him forget about Ryan.

He’d thought to himself so often back then, whenever the loneliness and the heartache got to be too much: It’s not fair. I never chose this. I don’t want to be this way.

But what he wanted had never mattered. He was the way he was and that would never change, no matter who he slept with or how drunk he got. His dad had been right about love after all: it happened to you, whether you liked it or not. The problem was that Benji couldn’t see how something which hurt so much could ever be the blessing Paul had promised it would be. All he’d gained from loving Ryan was an understanding that, once the countdown had begun, it was better to be the one who pulled away first.

Victor was still just standing there, hovering in the doorway, like he thought he was unwelcome. Benji had asked him to come, and yet he was still so hesitant.

“Come sit down,” Benji told him, breaking the spell. Victor stepped forward almost reflexively, as if that one assurance was all he’d been waiting for, and walked over to take a seat in the chair beside Benji’s bed. His eyes were immediately drawn to Benji’s temple, probably taking in the small, dark lump there, and then running over the rest of him, looking for further evidence of the damage Benji’s stupidity had left him with.

Although part of Benji wanted to turn away in embarrassment, he couldn’t help looking Victor over as well. Victor’s hair was a little longer now, the ends wavy and curling slightly against his forehead since he hadn’t put any product in it the night before. Benji liked it when it was loose and a little messy like this, looking like it did when Victor first woke up in the morning, when he was soft and relaxed, when his guard was down. There were shadows under his eyes though that hurt to see, no doubt the result of spending a night in a hospital waiting room and maybe giving hint to other sleepless nights before that. He was wearing a pair of maroon sweatpants and a Creekwood hoodie, along with the Nike Cortezes that Benji knew were his favorite sneakers. He’d told Benji once back when he’d first started working at Brasstown that his mother had gotten them for him while he was still in high school. Despite being so old they were in perfect condition, the white leather unmarked by dirt or scuffs, a testament to how well Victor had taken care of them over the years. Benji couldn’t stop staring at those shoes, realizing that that was Victor in a nutshell: so good at caring for things – caring for others – and so grateful for whatever love he was shown in return.

It had been over a week since they’d last seen each other and the full extent to which Benji had missed him was hitting him now all at once. Had a single hour, a single minute, gone by that Benji hadn’t spent missing him? How had he ever managed to convince himself that he’d be better off without Victor? He wanted to drink in the sight of him, to memorize every last detail, just in case this would be the last time he’d ever get the chance to.

“How are you?” Victor finally asked. Their eyes met again now that they’d both taken stock of the other, of all the ways their separation had left them both tired and hurting. He couldn’t help but wonder if Victor had missed him just as much, just as often. The way he was looking at Benji now made Benji believe that maybe he had.

“I’ve been better,” Benji said dryly, giving Victor a tiny, self-deprecating smile. “Mild concussion, swollen knee, maybe a slipped disc in my lower back. Oh, and then there’s gonna be the legal consequences of the DUI and the medical fees and the – and the withdrawals. I, um. I’m… an alcoholic. I have been for a long time.”

Jesus, that had been hard to say out loud. Benji paused, waiting nervously for Victor to flinch, to look away, to be embarrassed by all that Benji had just revealed to him. But Victor stared back at him steadily, accepting all of it with an easy grace that Benji was honestly a little bit jealous of. He wished it could be as easy for him to come to terms with everything he’d just admitted about himself. It took Benji a moment to realize that in addition to acceptance there was a deep compassion in Victor’s gaze, a compassion he knew he didn’t deserve. “I’m really f*cked up, Victor. I was scared to let you see that before so I tried my best to hide it from you, but it’s the truth. I’m – I’m just really, really f*cked up.”

“It’s okay,” Victor said softly, a tiny smile curling up the corner of his mouth. “I’m actually kinda f*cked up, too.”

Benji shook his head. “Not like this.”

“Maybe not,” Victor conceded, “but I’m not perfect, either. I have anxiety. I get panic attacks sometimes, and I’ve been seeing a therapist ever since I enrolled at Creekwood in September. She thinks I have PTSD from some of the stuff I went through growing up. So, yeah… I’m kinda f*cked up, too, Benji. I get it.”

“I’m sorry. That sounds really rough,” Benji said, not all that surprised by what Victor had just told him since it fit with some of the things Benji had noticed about him so far. “But you – you’re getting better. I can see how strong you are and sometimes I wish I could be like that. I want to be confident and proud of who I am, brave enough not to worry about what others think. The truth is I worry about it all the time. I’m so scared of disappointing people, of seeing the way they’d look at me if they knew all that I really am. That I’m gay, and I’m an addict, and I’m a liar. I’ve been lying about so many things to so many people for pretty much my entire life. I’ve lied to my family, my friends, my coworkers… I’ve lied to you.”

Victor’s jaw tightened slightly as he nodded. “I know.”

“You were right,” Benji admitted. “When you said that you make me happy. When you said that I feel the same way about you that you feel about me. You were right.”

“Benji-”

“There’s something I have to show you,” Benji cut in. Fear was coursing through every part of him, fear that once this final lie was exposed it would be the end of everything. That it would be enough to finally drive Victor away for good, to make him realize that Benji wasn’t worth fighting for after all, that Benji wasn’t worthy of Victor’s love. But giving Victor the truth was the only way Benji could ever have even the smallest chance of actually being worthy of his love, and he knew now that he wanted it. He wanted Victor more than he’d ever wanted anyone or anything else in all his life, and he would do whatever it took to try and make things right between them.

And if it was too late – if this lie, the greatest lie of all, was too much – then Benji would accept that. He would accept whatever Victor chose, because Benji had finally made his own choice.

He didn’t care anymore if it meant surrendering to fate or whatever higher power it was that governed the names written on their skin. He didn’t care if it made him a puppet or a pawn. He wanted Victor too much to care about that now.

He wanted Victor too much not to choose him.

His hand moved slowly, trembling a little, to the hem of the hospital gown. He had only just barely begun to lift it when Victor’s eyes went wide, flying up to lock on Benji’s, drawing in a sharp breath as though Benji had just sucker punched him.

Benji pulled the material up inch by inch, exposing his lower abdomen and side. Somehow Benji knew exactly what he’d see when he looked down at his own ribs, and he was right: there was only a name now, unmarred by ink, unpierced by arrows or thorns, beautiful and undamaged, as bold as the day it had first appeared.

“Your tattoo,” Victor breathed.

“It’s gone,” Benji finished for him. “I have no idea why, but it’s been slowly disappearing ever since I met you. Because the truth is that I’m not nameless. I wanted to be – I tried so hard to be – but I’m not. I’m so sorry, Victor. I can’t take back what I did but I want you to know that I regret it more than anything else I’ve ever done, even more than I regret getting into the car last night. I know that I hurt you so much by lying to you. I know that I betrayed you, and I’m just so incredibly sorry.”

“I think I’ve known for a while now,” Victor said softly, his eyes still trained on the letters of his own name penned across Benji’s skin. “Ever since that night at the motel. I didn’t want to believe it, but I could tell that you were falling in love with me, too, and the tattoo shifting like that – even though it was strange and impossible, your name being hidden underneath was the only thing that might explain it. I just didn’t want to believe that you’d lie to me like that. I know that you were scared, I know you feel-” Victor stopped, swallowing down the pain that was making it difficult for him to speak now, “I know that you feel trapped by me. But what you did… When I first found out that you were nameless, I almost lost all hope that I could ever find a way to be happy. I almost went back to believing that being gay was a death sentence after all. That all that lay ahead of me in life was loneliness. And even though you must have seen how much I was hurting, you still let me go on believing that my name was unrequited.”

And there it was, the judgment, the accusation in Victor’s voice that Benji had been so terrified of. His shoulders drooped. He hung his head, let the material of his hospital gown fall back into place, covering up the name once more. Tears stung his eyes but he didn’t dare let them fall. He wasn’t the victim here. He had no right crying in front of Victor now.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, the words falling flat between them. They would never be enough. He could say it a thousand times and it would never even come close to being enough. “I won’t ask you to forgive me because I know I don’t deserve it. I won’t ask anything from you, but if there’s anything you want to ask of me, you can. If you want me to tell you everything, I will. If you want me to – to stay away from you, I’ll do it. If you never want to see me again-”

“Just – just stop,” Victor interrupted, his voice rough. Benji chanced a quick look up at him and found that Victor had covered his face with his hand, to hide the tears that were making his shoulders shake and his breath come in loud, ragged bursts. “Please just stop. I can’t-”

“Okay,” Benji agreed, not even really knowing what he was agreeing to, just desperate to do whatever he could to make things better. “Okay.”

Victor was quiet for a long time, the only sounds in the room the hums and beeps of the medical equipment and the rasp of Victor’s breath. Lying there beside him, watching him cry, wanting more than anything to reach out and offer comfort but knowing that it wasn’t his place – it was hard to remember a time when Benji had hurt as much as he did in that moment.

Eventually, a long while later, Victor calmed. He dragged his palm over his wet face, wiping it dry, and lifted red, swollen eyes up to meet Benji’s. When he spoke next his voice was so quiet, the words so unexpected, that Benji almost thought he’d imagined them.

“I forgive you,” Victor whispered.

Benji’s jaw dropped. All he could do then was stare back dumbly, unable to respond. It made no sense. He didn’t deserve it.

It had to be a mistake.

Abruptly, Victor jumped to his feet. He didn’t look at Benji as he said, “I have to go.”

He strode quickly over to the door, his departure so fast and sudden that Benji was struck by a sharp spike of fear that this was it – that Victor would leave now and Benji might never see him again, that these would be their final moments together – but then he came to a stop just on the threshold.

“I have to go now,” Victor repeated, face half-turned toward Benji, half-turned away, unable to fully look back at him. “But – uh, but would it be all right if I came back? Tomorrow maybe?”

Benji swallowed past his shock and made himself say, “Yeah. Of course. You can come back anytime you want to.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

And then just like that Victor walked through the doorway and was gone.

The rest of the day was long and exhausting. The MRI revealed that he did in fact have a slipped disc and the doctor returned to speak with him in more detail about the treatment plan. His knee continued to throb in between doses of pain medication and it seemed like the swelling had gotten worse rather than better as the day had gone on. By the evening it resembled an especially ugly balloon, the discolored skin puffy and round. His nurse kept bringing him fresh cold packs and reminding him to keep it still, which wasn’t a problem since his injured back sent jolts of pain down his legs whenever he moved anyway. Around dinner time a public defender spoke with him about his legal options in a very brief, very disorienting phone call that couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen minutes. Her advice had been to take a plea deal in order to get a lighter sentence, and to start getting together whatever money that he could to cover the fees. Prison time was a possibility (one that completely terrified him) but not very likely according to her, at least as long as he pleaded guilty to the charges. Since he hadn’t injured anyone other than himself or caused any major property damage, there was a good chance he’d just receive some probation time in addition to the usual consequences of a DUI: suspended license for up to one year, mandatory addiction counseling, mandatory rehabilitation, up to forty hours of community service…

It was a lot to take in, but in the end, Benji knew that he was guilty, and he would accept whatever sentence he received. In his mind he heard over and over again an endless mantra, a constant, necessary reminder: You could have died. You could have killed someone else.

He would take all of it without complaint.

The next day was a Saturday, and early that morning his doctor stopped by to inform him that he was being discharged and transferred to a rehabilitation clinic. His case wouldn’t be processed until Monday, so he hadn’t been officially mandated to begin rehab yet, but Benji agreed to the transfer voluntarily. There was no point in delaying it and as humiliating as it was he could recognize now that it was for the best. Ruth and Asa arrived to pick him up, Asa helping him out of bed and into some real clothes again (they’d brought him a pair of sweatpants that were baggy enough to slide over his swollen knee) and then he was taken out to the car in a wheelchair.

The drive to the clinic was awkward. Just being in a car again for the first time since the accident was already so difficult. From the first moment he’d sat down in the passenger seat a cold sweat had begun to break out across his skin, and a fine tremor ran through his body. He had to press his palms down hard against his thighs to feel grounded, breathing deeply through his nose to keep himself from panicking. His mom and brother kept talking in loud, overly cheerful voices about whatever they could think of (when Asa might be receiving college acceptance letters, what Dan was up to that weekend, Ruth’s new coworker who didn’t seem to be as qualified as she was supposed to be for the position, and so on). They were trying so hard to be normal and to avoid any mention of the purpose of their trip, and even though he knew they meant well, Benji still felt like he himself had become the elephant in the car.

It was all out there now. Every ugly, uncomfortable, difficult truth about him. That he was an addict, that he’d recklessly endangered his own life and others not just on the night of his accident but on countless occasions before that, that he’d been lying to everyone about who he was for years. That he was gay and had a man’s name written on his ribs.

They had accepted him when he’d told them everything the day before, which was more than he’d ever expected to get, and they were here now, doing their best to be supportive of him despite how badly he’d f*cked up. Even so he didn’t want to allow things to go back to the way they had been before, when none of them had been able to talk about the things that really mattered, when everything to do with Benji and his name had been taboo.

“Do you know if the clinic allows visitors?” Benji asked Ruth before she could launch into another story about a troublesome coworker. He swallowed nervously and added, “It’s just that Victor said he might come see me again today.”

“Oh,” Ruth said, no doubt startled by the fact that Benji had brought up the topic of Victor on his own. “Um, yeah, I think this one does allow visitors during certain hours. We can check with them when we arrive.”

“I thought you guys weren’t together,” Asa said a little cautiously.

“We’re not but we… we might be friends, at least. I don’t know. It’s still pretty complicated.”

“But do you want to be with him?”

He could sense them both watching him, trying to gauge whether they’d pushed him too far, whether he’d get scared and try to shut down again. Benji forced himself to remain calm and nodded. It was still so strange to be this honest, but in a way it actually felt good. Despite how terrifying it was, it felt liberating.

“Yeah,” Benji admitted. “Yeah, I do. But I, uh… I messed things up with him really badly. I don’t know if he’ll ever want to be with me.”

Ruth caught his eyes, her own full of sympathy. She reached over to squeeze his hand. “Just give it a little time, honey. Things are messy right now but they’re going to get better, as long as you’re willing to do the work to make them better. I saw Victor the other night when he showed up at the hospital, and it was obvious that he cares about you a lot. So just give it time. I think there’s a lot for you to be hopeful about right now.”

Benji desperately wanted to believe that, but he had seen how hurt Victor had been the day before, he had heard the accusation in Victor’s voice, and even though Victor had forgiven him some part of Benji still couldn’t quite accept that it was real.

It was a relief to get out of the car when they finally arrived, but difficult checking into the rehab center. Asa ran in ahead of them and came out with another wheelchair, carefully helping Benji out of the car and into it before pushing him inside. The lobby was bright and airy, large windows filling the room with sunlight, potted plants and tacky inspirational photos of smiling people decorating every surface. On the front desk small, framed posters offered promises of a better future and guarantees of discretion. Everything about being in this place and seeing the word “addiction” again and again was humiliating. He hated that his mom and Asa had to be here because of him. He hated how exposed and vulnerable all of it made him feel.

But he knew that this was where he belonged, so he gritted his teeth and ignored his discomfort. He had to do this. It was the only way forward.

Benji signed a bunch of forms and filled out the necessary paperwork, and then he was given a few minutes to say goodbye to his family. Visiting hours were between three and six p. m. each day, a brief window that he knew they wouldn’t be able to attend often because of work and after school commitments. Benji might only stay at the clinic for a few days, or he might be there longer – according to the receptionist that mainly depended on him and his own progress. Since he was young and in reasonably good health, he wasn’t likely to experience many withdrawal symptoms. His doctor had mentioned the possibility of headaches, nausea, and tremors, but as he was already on pain medication he might not feel much of it anyway.

“Take care of yourself and get better soon, okay?” Asa said as he hugged Benji. “We should hang out once you get out of here. You and me haven’t really done anything together in a long time.”

The fact that Asa still wanted anything to do with him after all of this left Benji a little overwhelmed. He tried to hide the emotional tremble in his voice as he said, “Yeah, that’d be really cool. Let’s make it happen.”

“Maybe you could invite Victor sometime, too,” Asa suggested, his eyes going bright with amusem*nt when Benji’s cheeks heated up. “I’d like to get to know him better.”

“I, uh… I don’t know-”

“Yeah, I know, it’s ‘complicated’. But Mom’s right, B, that guy definitely cares a lot about you. I don’t think it’s gonna stay complicated for much longer.”

Ruth asked Asa to wait for her in the car before she said her own goodbye, making Benji’s heart pound with nerves about what she would say next.

“I know this is going to be hard for you,” Ruth began, nodding her head toward the hallway that led deeper into the clinic. “But I’m so proud of you for coming here today. I really wish that I’d tried harder with your dad to get him to do something like this. Maybe if I had, maybe if I’d pushed a little more-”

“I don’t think it works like that, Mom. Either you’re ready to admit there’s a problem or you’re not, but until you are no amount of persuasion can force you to change if you aren’t ready to. I had you and Lake and Derek all pushing me to get help, but until the accident I couldn’t see how bad things were. The more you guys reached out to me the more I just ran away from all of you. You can’t blame yourself for that, with me or with Dad.”

Ruth sighed wearily. “I know. I know, and I’ve told myself that a million times over the years, but sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder whether he’d still be here if I’d just tried a little harder to make him get help.”

Benji frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You boys were young when Paul died, so I never said anything then, but…” Ruth drew in a deep breath, meeting Benji’s eyes steadily as she admitted, “Benji, your dad’s alcoholism was definitely a contributing factor to his stroke. He was young and relatively healthy otherwise, but he’d been drinking heavily ever since he was a teenager. There’s a history of both strokes and alcoholism in his family, and I knew that, and I’ve felt so guilty at times for not doing more to try and make him change. I know that you’re right, that ultimately change is the responsibility of the individual, but… but he was sick. He couldn’t fully see how much he was hurting himself and all of us. And I just wish…”

She trailed off, reaching up with an unsteady hand to brush away the tears that had accumulated at the corners of her eyes. When she looked up at him again, the pain and the determination in her gaze took his breath away.

“I don’t want to lose you the same way I lost him. So please, please do your best to make this stick. To change for real. And remember that you don’t have to do this on your own. Get all the help and support that you need so that you can start living a life that makes you happy. I meant what I said the other day, that that’s all I want for you. It’s okay that you’re not perfect, it’s okay that you’ve messed up, as long as you’re willing to start doing better now. I should have said this a very long time ago, and I am so sorry that I didn’t, but Benji, it’s okay that you’re gay, too. I love you so much just the way you are. All that I ask is that you don’t shut me out anymore. If you need my help, ask for it. If you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I promise I will always be there for you.”

Benji’s tears had begun to flow halfway through his mother’s speech and by the end he was crying too hard to respond. Instead he just nodded in agreement and let her wrap him up in a hug, her embrace warm and strong and everything he needed just then. He still didn’t feel worthy of all of the acceptance and love and forgiveness he’d been shown by everyone around him, but god he needed it all the same, and he was so incredibly grateful for it.

“Thank you,” Benji whispered, when he found his voice again. Ruth pulled back at last, her own eyes red and wet, but her smile as bright as the sunlight pouring in through the windows.

After checking in, Benji was shown to a private room where he left the small bag of personal items he’d brought with him, and then he had his first meeting with the counselor who’d be working with him while he stayed at the clinic. Her name was Danielle and she told him right away that she was a recovered alcoholic herself, now ten years sober. She was patient and friendly, easy to talk to, and the fact that she had been through this process herself did a lot to relieve Benji’s feelings of shame when he described his drinking habits and what types of stressors usually triggered them.

That first meeting was difficult but it went better than he’d expected, and by the end of it he was optimistic that Danielle would be someone he could work well with. He’d even told her up front that he was gay because he was done lying and hiding about himself now, and she’d taken the information in stride. Being so honest about something he’d done everything in his power to conceal for most of his life still left Benji’s stomach in knots, but he was proud of himself for saying it. Every time he did it felt like another step toward becoming the kind of person he desperately wanted to be. The kind of person that might truly be able to make his family proud. The kind of person that might even be worthy of Victor’s love.

Before his first therapy session that morning Benji had sent Victor a text to let him know that Benji had transferred to the clinic, including the visiting hours and address. By the time the session was finished he’d received a brief “thanks” in reply, with no mention of whether Victor was still planning to come visit him that day. But later that afternoon, when Benji was in his room reading during his free time, he got a call from the receptionist to let him know that a visitor was waiting for him.

And then there he was, sitting in an armchair by the window in one of the small, private rooms where patients were allowed to meet with people from outside the clinic. He was wearing his favorite sneakers again, with a pair of black jeans and a red and black flannel shirt. The sunshine from earlier in the day had given way to clouds and occasional rain showers, and Victor looked as though he’d gotten caught in one on his way inside. His hair was damp and curling slightly, making Benji’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch. A small smile curved his lips upward when Benji came in, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was so handsome it made Benji’s heart skip a beat just looking at him.

Benji wheeled himself over, trying as hard as he could not to feel embarrassed by the circ*mstances but failing miserably. It was impossible not to be ashamed of each new low that Victor witnessed, and this one in particular was awful. As glad as he was to see Victor again, he couldn’t ignore the fact that they were currently meeting in a rehab center, where Benji was being treated for addiction, and he knew that he still looked like a total disaster. His hair was messy and unwashed, he had a large, mottled blue and red bruise above his right eye, he was wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a faded blue hoodie, and worst of all he couldn’t even walk at the moment due to his injuries.

“Hey,” Benji said, meeting Victor’s eyes for only a second before he stared down at his own hands. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

“How are you feeling?”

“A little better. The swelling around my knee is finally starting to go down now.”

“That’s good. Do you, um… do you know how long you’ll be staying here?”

Benji shook his head. “It depends on my progress, apparently. It could just be a few days, or it could take weeks. But I’m willing to stay as long as I need to to get better.”

That brought a more genuine smile to Victor’s face. He reached out a little hesitantly, resting his hand on top of Benji’s. “I really hope it goes well. You’re a strong person, Benji. I know you can get through this.”

Benji wasn’t as confident in himself, but he said, “Thanks. I hope so.”

Victor pulled his hand away, and Benji found himself immediately missing the warmth of his touch. That same hand began nervously twisting the hem of Victor’s shirt as he asked, “Could you, uh… could you tell me about your tattoo? Like, how old were you when you got it, and why you decided to do that? It’s just that, uh – yesterday you said that you would tell me everything if I wanted to know, and – and I think I need to understand this. I’ve been having a really hard time processing everything that’s happened with us, and I just… I just really need to know in order to try and make sense of it all.”

It went against all of Benji’s instincts for self-preservation to be so honest and vulnerable, especially with someone that he was in love with, because in his experience vulnerability just led to heartbreak and rejection. He didn’t really know how to trust someone the way Victor needed him to, but it was time for Benji to learn. It was time for him to start trying.

So he drew in a deep breath and he said, “I didn’t get my name until I was fourteen. At first I didn’t even realize what it was, I just assumed it was a bruise or something, but after a couple of weeks the letters started getting clearer, and then one day I was able to read them…”

They sat there for a long time, Benji talking and Victor listening, while the skies grew darker outside the window and Benji’s voice eventually became dry and rough. He left out no details, no matter how incriminating or embarrassing. He told Victor about the tattoo, and about how he’d already suspected that he was gay at that point because of his feelings for Ryan, and how he’d always assumed that his family would never accept him. He told him about the years that had followed as well, about hooking up with Ryan one night and getting his heart broken, about the meaningless encounters with other guys after that and the girls he’d dated just to try and fit in, and about the constant drinking just to numb the pain of it all.

It was probably more than Victor had wanted to know, probably too much to dump on him all at once, but now that Benji had gotten started he didn’t know how to stop. He wanted to just lay it all out there, to lay his heart in Victor’s hands and let Victor do with it what he would. If Victor decided at the end of all this that he couldn’t love someone like Benji after all, and chose to toss it aside, it was no more than Benji deserved.

But Victor stayed, and he nodded along, and at times he even reached out to give Benji’s arm a comforting squeeze. Sometimes he asked questions or expressed his sympathy, or just gave a quiet “mm” of acknowledgment to show that Benji was heard. But most of all he listened to everything, and he accepted every ugly truth, and he stayed.

They were both startled when there was a knock on the door and a staff member popped her head in to let them know that it was six o’clock so Victor would have to leave.

“Thank you for coming here today, and for listening,” Benji said at last. He couldn’t make himself look at Victor, feeling awkward about all that he’d confessed. Victor now knew more about him than anyone else in the world, more than Benji had ever thought he’d be able to share with anyone.

“Thanks for telling me,” Victor said in return. He hesitated for a second on the edge of his chair, and then to Benji’s surprise Victor’s arms were wrapping warm and tight around his shoulders, holding him close. The familiar smell of him, the feeling of his body pressed against Benji’s, chest to chest, their cheeks lightly touching… it was everything Benji had missed so badly in the days they’d spent apart. It was everything that he’d feared he might have lost forever when he’d bared the name to Victor at the hospital the day before.

Victor drew back after a long moment, and promised, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Benji.”

When Benji slept that night, he dreamed of ink blossoming everywhere across his skin, everywhere Victor’s lips and hands had touched, spelling out Victor’s name again and again and again, each time a blessing.

Chapter 19: I Wanna Hold the Hand Inside You

Chapter Text

“When did you start playing basketball?”

“I have no idea. No, really-” Victor protested when Benji laughed at his response, an easy smile spreading across his face, “I’m serious, I was so little when I started I don’t even remember anymore. I think maybe I was, like, five or six years old when my parents signed me up for lessons? My dad tried to get me into soccer but I never liked it that much, and then one day I was at a family party on my mom’s side and everyone was watching a replay of the Puerto Rico vs USA game from the 2004 Olympics. Seeing players like Arroyo and Ortiz go up against some of the best guys in the NBA and win… I was just totally obsessed after that. Carlos Arroyo was my hero when I was a kid. I wanted to be just like him.”

“He’s a Puerto Rican player?” Benji asked.

Victor shook his head, smile broadening into a grin. “He’s the Puerto Rican player. He’s a legend down there. I still have a poster of him in my room, it’s that one of the guy in the white Puerto Rico uniform, holding the jersey out to show off the flag.”

“Oh, yeah,” Benji said vaguely, and Victor rolled his eyes.

“You totally don’t remember it, do you?”

“Nope. Sorry,” Benji admitted with a guilty laugh. “Sports really aren’t my thing. Also in my defense I’ve been pretty distracted by other stuff every time I’ve come over to your dorm room. And by ‘other stuff’ obviously I mean you.”

Victor’s cheeks went a little pink at that and he ducked his head as if to hide them. Benji’s heart chose that moment to skip a beat. “Oh, um, okay… I guess that’s a pretty good excuse.”

It had been eight days since Benji transferred to the rehab clinic, and Victor had come to visit him on all but two of them. There had been more emotionally intense conversations about difficult topics, everything from the bullying Victor had experienced in Texas to Paul’s death to their mutual struggles with shame related to being gay. They had also talked a little bit about their own relationship, acknowledging some of the ways it had been unhealthy and why they had both allowed things to continue that way for so long. Benji had apologized again and again for having hurt Victor, through his lies and his silence and his fear, until finally the previous day Victor had forced him to recognize that Victor wasn’t entirely blameless either.

“You’re not the only one who was afraid,” Victor had pointed out, voice quiet but firm. “There were things I wanted to tell you, questions I wanted to ask, but I kept holding myself back all the time. I was so scared that talking about it would make you run away again, and honestly, there were things that I just wasn’t ready to share yet anyway. We both should have been more honest about what we were feeling, about what we wanted. You can’t put all the blame on yourself, Benji.”

Benji had wanted to respond to that by saying that he was ready to try now. That he would do his best to learn how to communicate in healthier ways and to listen to what Victor needed in return. Benji had wanted so badly to tell him that he would do better this time around.

But he still didn’t know if there was going to be a “this time around”. He didn’t know if Victor coming to visit him everyday meant that they were friends, or if Victor’s hand sometimes reaching out to hold his meant that they were more than that, or if the way Victor looked at him sometimes, so soft and open, meant that Victor might still be in love with him after all.

Moments like the one they were in right now, with Victor’s face shyly down turned, a pleased smile curling up the corners of his lips, the air between them thick with tension… it made the urge to reach out and touch him almost overpowering.

If they really were headed toward giving this thing a second chance, Benji knew that he couldn’t be the one to make the first move this time. He’d betrayed Victor and hurt him so badly, and Benji knew that it would take time for a wound like that to heal, even if Victor had somehow already managed to forgive him for it. It would take time for Victor to learn to trust him again, if he ever did, but the reality was that Victor was here, and they were talking about almost everything, and that at least made Benji believe that maybe not all trust was lost. The best he could do for now was show Victor that he was open and ready, that if Victor chose to reach out to him again at some point, if he chose to give them a second chance, Benji would reciprocate wholeheartedly, with everything he had in him to give.

Which was why Benji forced himself to push away his own desire to reach out and touch, allowing the moment to pass as he said, “So… tell me more about this Carlos Rojo guy.”

Victor’s gaze lifted to meet his, brown eyes warm with amusem*nt and an affection that left Benji’s heart swelling with hope.

“Arroyo,” Victor corrected him, rolling the ‘r’ in a way that Benji found incredibly hot.

“What?” Benji asked, mostly just to hear him say it again.

“Carlos Arroyo,” Victor repeated with a fond smile, and then he began to talk about his childhood hero, which eventually led to stories about his own years of playing basketball. “I played point guard at the Catholic high school I went to, and being the leader of the team, being part of something bigger than myself… it was one of the only times growing up that I truly felt like I fit in somewhere. A lot of my teammates were like us, you know? Most of them had a boy’s name written on their skin, too. That’s why their families sent them to that school, to get them on the seminary track. So sometimes when we played against other schools in the area we’d get sh*t from the other teams. Guys calling us names, getting away with pushing us around, stuff like that. Every time we beat one of those teams it felt like it was bigger than just a basketball game. Like Puerto Rico beating the US dream team at the Olympics. No one ever expected us to be the ones to win, but we did. We worked harder than everyone else because we had more to prove, and we won again and again. My senior year we even made it to the state championship. My, uh-” Victor stopped to draw in a breath, his voice a little shaky, “my family was so proud of me that year.”

Benji hesitated for just a second, a little unsure of himself, before asking, “Victor… what happened with them? With your family?”

It was a cool day, a gentle rain falling off and on ever since the early morning, the gray light washing out all the color in the little visiting room. The stupid inspirational photographs on the walls, the potted plants, the sage green upholstery lining the chairs – they all appeared faded and worn-out. Yet somehow the afternoon gloom did nothing to make Victor look any less handsome, the hue of his skin and hair and eyes as warm and vibrant as it ever was. He was the brightest thing in the room; he was all that Benji could see. Benji’s fingers itched with the urge to draw him.

“After, uh… after everyone found out about me and Michael, they were so disappointed in me,” Victor admitted. His hands were anxiously twisting the hem of his shirt back and forth, tugging the material one way and then another. Benji wanted nothing more than to reach out and soothe him, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed, and so he kept his hands pressed flat against his own legs and watched Victor struggle and ached alongside him. “My mom especially. Me being gay was harder for her to accept than anyone else because she had always been really involved in the church. She never worked, aside from giving piano lessons part-time, so church and our family were basically her whole life. She was in the choir, and the women’s group, and she did a lot of volunteering… So when they found out about my name, she was the one who was the most upset about it. She cried for days, and she could barely look at me, and she told me once years later that in those first few weeks she felt like I had died. Like she’d been mourning for me then. I never knew what to say to that, because even though her feeling like that hurt me a lot, I can see how maybe in a f*cked up way she was kind of right. The future my parents had imagined for me – the son they’d expected to grow up and get married and live a normal life – that son died the day my name appeared.

“But when the priest came and explained to her about the seminary option, it gave her hope. It wasn’t the future she’d dreamed of, but it was a future, and it was better than nothing. So she put all of her energy into making that work because she believed that it was the only way to save me. The only way to protect me from myself. And then when everything with Michael happened, to her that was the greatest betrayal of all. It was like I’d taken everything she’d done for me and thrown it all away. She couldn’t understand that I hadn’t wanted any of it in the first place, that I’d never believed in any of it the way she had. She couldn’t understand that I’d been in love with him, or that Michael had been good to me, or that we’d been happy together. My dad was never as religious as she was, so he didn’t take it quite as hard when I dropped out of the seminary. I think he was mostly just embarrassed by it, but my mom… She hasn’t spoken to me even once since the day I told her I didn’t want to be a priest. So…” Victor trailed off, drawing in a deep breath to try and hold everything back; in order to hold it all in. His voice broke when he murmured the words, “So that’s why I can’t go back there anymore. That’s why Pilar and Adrian are all I have left.”

Benji had been trying his hardest to keep his distance out of respect for Victor’s boundaries, but as the tears in Victor’s eyes threatened to spill over, he couldn’t stop himself from placing a cautious hand on top of Victor’s in a gesture of support. Victor drew in another shuddering breath, and as he let it out everything he’d been trying so hard to keep inside seemed to burst forth with it.

“I never asked to be this way, either,” Victor forced out, voice rough as a sob shook through him. Benji slid forward in his chair, injured back aching a little with the movement, but he ignored it as he wrapped his arms around Victor and pulled him into an embrace. Victor held him just as tightly, his body trembling and every word he spoke sounded as though it had been ripped from him. “I never wanted my life to be this hard, but this is who I am, and I don’t want to be ashamed of it or scared of it anymore. I just don’t understand why they can’t accept me. I don’t understand how they could stop loving me.”

The pace of Victor’s breathing grew rapid and uneven, the tremors running through him more violent, making Benji’s heart pound with fear. He didn’t know what to do for Victor aside from continuing to hold him and speaking soft, soothing words of comfort, running his hands through Victor’s hair and over his back gently. It was hard to tell if anything he was doing was even getting through to Victor, who was so lost now Benji didn’t think he could even hear what Benji was saying to him. He felt so helpless. If there were any way, any way at all, to take this pain away from Victor and carry the burden himself, Benji would have done it. He would have done anything to make it even a little bit better.

But in the end holding him and whispering to him quietly was enough. Eventually Victor began to calm, his breathing slowing into a steadier rhythm, and he became responsive again.

“Sorry,” Victor mumbled. He pulled back, running his hands over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen. It’s been a while since I had a panic attack. It just kinda hit me out of nowhere…”

“You don’t need to apologize, Victor. I’m just so sorry you had to go through that. I wish there was something I could’ve done.”

Victor’s hand, a little shaky and a little damp with tears, settled on top of Benji’s. “Just being there and staying calm was good. Thank you.”

They were quiet for a moment, Benji considering everything Victor had told him as Victor continued to hold his hand.

“I hate that all of that happened to you. I hate that your family put you through so much and then when you couldn’t be the person they wanted you to be they rejected you.” Benji’s guilt tasted bitter on his tongue. “It’s not fair. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known, and if anyone deserves to be loved and accepted for who they are, it’s you.”

Victor caught his gaze then, eyes a little red but looking into Benji’s with a strength that Benji envied. Had he ever met anyone as strong as Victor? Anyone as brave or as kind as he was?

“You do, too, Benji. Not just me. You deserve that, too.”

Benji wished that he could believe that but he still felt so unworthy of all the kindness and acceptance he’d received. However, the way Victor was looking at him just then made him feel like someday, somehow, it might be possible for him to actually believe it.

For a brief second, Victor’s eyes flicked down to Benji’s mouth and then up again. Benji couldn’t breathe. The room around them was so quiet, silent except for the soft, muffled sound of rain against the window. Benji wanted to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted anything.

There was a knock on the door, loud and obtrusive, making them both jump. They turned to stare as it swung open, revealing the receptionist standing on the other side. Benji was surprised to see him since a quick glance at the clock nearby showed that it was only ten past five.

“Another visitor just arrived for you, Mr. Campbell,” the man said. “His name’s Derek. Would you like me to bring him in?”

“Oh, uh-” Benji glanced uncertainly toward Victor.

“It’s fine,” Victor reassured him, not quite meeting his eyes now. “I should probably get going anyway. It’s getting late.”

“You don’t have to go-”

“Really, it’s okay. I’ll, uh – I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Victor was pulling his jacket on and heading for the door just as the receptionist returned a moment later with Derek. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, Derek’s eyes narrowing as he tried to place Victor. Benji grabbed the cane he was using for support now that he no longer needed a wheelchair and walked over to join them.

“Have we met before?” Derek blurted out. “You look really familiar.”

“I don’t think so,” Victor responded, so Benji clarified, “This is Victor. I met him at one of our gigs back in November. Victor, this is Derek, my band mate.”

Recognition flashed across Derek’s face. “Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Victor.”

Derek extended a hand and Victor shook it. The sight of the two of them interacting felt somewhat surreal to Benji.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, too,” Victor said. “Sorry, to leave right away but I should really get going now.” He glanced back at Benji a little shyly. “I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”

“I actually might be headed home tomorrow or the day after. Danielle says I’m just about ready now. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Okay. Have a good night.”

Benji gave him a warm smile, doing his best to ignore the way Derek was glancing between them with amusem*nt. “You too. Bye, Victor.”

Once Victor had left, the two of them stood there awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, Benji unsure how to greet Derek, but before he could figure it out Derek stepped forward and carefully wrapped him up in a hug.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek muttered. “You’re one of my best friends and I love you, but you’re an idiot. When I got your voicemail about the accident, I, uh… I – look, just don’t ever do anything that dumb again, okay? Promise?”

Derek pulled back, staring Benji down until he said solemnly, “I promise. And I’m really sorry I worried you. I’m sorry that I ignored you when you told me I needed to slow down, and when you suggested that I get help. I’m sorry that I took advantage of your friendship. I’m really sorry for a lot of things that went down between us-”

“I know, and I appreciate you saying that, but you can stop with all the apologies now. Just get better, all right? That’s all I’ve wanted for you this entire time. And as soon as you do come back to the band, Justin and Alex have been missing you, too.” Derek laughed a little at Benji’s skeptical look and admitted, “Okay, maybe Alex doesn’t miss you so much as he misses having a guitarist and lead singer around, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I’m actually really looking forward to getting back to practice soon.” They were still standing near the door so Benji nodded toward the set of chairs below the window. “Wanna go sit down?”

Hobbling across the room with the support of the cane was embarrassing, especially when he could feel Derek’s eyes on him the entire way. As soon as they were both seated Derek asked, “How are you? Did you get hurt badly in the accident? Your voicemail didn’t exactly include a lot of details.”

“I’m doing better now. I had some bruising and swelling around my knee but that’s mostly gone at this point, and I have a slipped disc in my lower back that’s going to take longer to heal. I’ve been doing physical therapy to help with that, but I still get pain in my legs sometimes which is why I’m using this thing.” Benji gestured toward the cane which was resting on the arm of his chair. “Hopefully after a few weeks of therapy I’ll be back to normal. It’s all the other stuff that’s harder to deal with…”

Derek nodded. “You mean the addiction? Or the DUI?”

Benji stared down hard at the floor, shame curling in his belly the way it always did when those topics were brought up. “Both. My license is suspended for a year and I have to do addiction counseling for six months, plus forty hours of community service. I got lucky just receiving three months probation, but it’s going to make life complicated for a while. I’m supposed to avoid bars and any other places where people are drinking heavily during that time so it might mean that I can’t play any gigs for a while. I’ll have to talk to my probation officer about it and find out more about what’s acceptable. I’ll let you guys know.”

“It’s fine, Benji. We’ll figure it out. Maybe if we take a break from performing while you’re dealing with all of this it’ll give us a chance to work on some new material.”

“Yeah, that’d be really cool. I’ve actually started writing some new stuff while I’ve been in here, as part of the recovery process. I think some of it might be good enough to share with you guys soon.” Benji shot him a grateful look. “Thanks for being so understanding about everything.”

“So… what about the other stuff? Is the counseling helping?”

“It’s hard, but it’s been really helpful so far. My therapist here, Danielle, is amazing, and I might be able to continue seeing her after I leave. There’s so much I’ve been just ignoring for years, a lot of issues that have been fueling my drinking which I have to try to work on now, and she’s really good at getting me to face that stuff.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume that being gay is at least one of them,” Derek said, a little dryly. Benji gave him a small smile in response.

“Yeah, that’s definitely one of the biggest things I’m trying to come to terms with, but I’m getting better. I came out to my family last week, and to Lake. The next time I make it to band practice I’m planning on telling Justin and Alex as well, even though Justin pretty much already knows. I, uh… I don’t want to hide anymore.”

A wide smile spread across Derek’s face and he reached out to squeeze Benji’s shoulder. “That’s amazing, Benji. And don’t think we’re not going to talk about the fact that Victor was here. Has he been coming to see you a lot lately?”

For some crazy reason Benji could feel his cheeks going warm. He wasn’t a teenager, there was no reason to be embarrassed about this, but something about his relationship with Victor still left him feeling shy at times.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Benji admitted.

Derek’s brows went up pointedly. “And?”

“And what?”

“And what’s going on with you guys? C’mon, I think as a fellow gay and one of your best friends I deserve some of the juicy details.”

Benji shrugged uncomfortably. “There’s not much to tell at the moment.” Derek stared at him so Benji protested, “Seriously, there isn’t. The whole thing is really complicated and hard to explain, but, uh… Derek, you were right about my tattoo. I did have a name hidden underneath it.”

Derek’s eyes went wide with shock. “Oh my god. It’s him, isn’t it? He’s your soulmate.”

Benji nodded.

“Holy sh*t. No wonder you two looked like you were about to make a sudden leap at each other right in the middle of that gig last fall.” Derek went quiet for a moment as he processed that information, and for just a second Benji could see a sadness in his eyes that hurt to look at. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and Derek smiled again, warm and genuine as he said, “I’m so glad you guys found each other. I’m really happy for you, Benji.”

“Can I ask you something?” Derek nodded in response, so Benji continued with, “How, uh… how did you get to be so proud of who you are? For as long as I’ve known you you’ve been so confident in your identity and so brave about showing it to the whole world… It’s something I’m trying to work on now but I’ve spent my entire life being terrified and ashamed of this, and I don’t really know what I’m doing…”

Derek let out a sigh that sounded heavy with all the years of difficulty behind it. “It wasn’t easy for me, either. I was just a kid when my parents kicked me out and I was homeless for nearly three months before Annie and Fiona took me in. I think I might have mentioned them to you-”

“They’re the lesbian couple that you’re friends with, right?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if they hadn’t helped me out. I try not to think about it, honestly, because things were so bad back then and I might not have survived it without them. They gave me a home, and a place where it was safe to be myself, and – well, they’re my real family now. I owe them everything. But for a long time, all I could feel was anger. Not pride, not self-acceptance… just a bottomless pit of anger directed at the whole world. I hated my parents so much for what they did to me, and I hated the name on my skin, and I hated everyone who had ever hurt me because of it. But Annie and Fiona taught me to take that anger and channel it into something constructive. They got me involved in activism, and they were the ones who showed me what it meant to be different and proud of it.”

Derek reached a hand out and laid it gently across Benji’s forearm. “It’s not something that most of us can learn overnight. It takes time. It takes practice. There’s a lot that you have to unlearn first.” Derek paused for a moment consideringly, and then asked, “Hey, I know this isn’t the best time or place to ask, but have you ever been out to a gay bar before?”

Benji shook his head. “No. I was always too worried about somehow getting outed, and honestly I was just too scared. That’s why I always said no whenever you suggested going out to one.”

“Well, maybe it’s finally time to try. What do you think? You can even bring that cute new boyfriend of yours,” Derek said with a grin. “It won’t even be awkward because I kinda started seeing someone recently, too.”

“Oh, that’s great, Derek. Victor’s not my boyfriend, though, like I said, it’s-”

“Yeah, it’s messy or whatever, I heard you. But I also have eyes and I saw the way you two were staring at each other earlier-”

Benji shook his head. “I don’t know if Victor would be up for joining us or not, but I’d like to go with you at some point when going out to a bar is something I can do again.”

“Excellent. And in the meantime, you can come meet some of my queer friends in situations that don’t involve drinking. The point is, there’s a whole community out there just waiting for you to come and join it. Society teaches people like us to hide and to lie, to live lives of isolation, but it doesn’t have to be that way. You can have friends who are like you and you can find spaces where being queer is the norm rather than the exception. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Benji,” Derek said, with another light squeeze to Benji’s arm. “If you want to learn how to be proud, the community is the place to start.”

The day after Derek’s visit, Benji met with Danielle in the morning and was informed that he was being discharged that day. Benji texted his mom to let her know and then he and Danielle had their final inpatient session.

“I am so proud of the progress that you’ve made here, Benji,” Danielle told him at the end of it. She was seated in an armchair across from him in her office just like always, and her eyes were lit up by both the morning light streaming in from the window next to them and their own natural warmth. That morning they seemed brighter than ever as she looked back at Benji and smiled. “You’ve had so much to overcome, and there’s still a long way to go toward full recovery, but I can see how dedicated you are not just to getting better but also to becoming a happier, stronger person. I can’t wait to see how far you can go.”

“I, uh… I don’t know if I could’ve gotten this far without you,” Benji admitted softly, thinking of all the sessions they’d had together in the past week and the way Danielle had always known how to push him just that little bit further, how to ask just the right question to make him see everything in a new light. “Thank you so much for everything.”

“This isn’t goodbye,” Danielle pointed out, “I’ll be seeing you next Tuesday, remember? Take care and enjoy your time at home with your family.”

Danielle stood up and went to open the door, waiting patiently as Benji pushed himself up to his feet slowly with support from the cane. His back injury sent shooting pains down his legs at the movement, not as bad as they had been before but still enough to make him wince slightly as he crossed the room and followed Danielle down the hallway to the reception area. Ruth was already waiting there for him, her eyes a little watery as she rushed over to give him a hug.

On the way home, Benji sent Victor a text.

Just got out today. Going to stay with my family for a bit, the address is below in case you wanna stop by sometime

Victor’s reply came a minute later.

I don’t think I’ll have time today. Sarah asked me to pick up an extra shift this afternoon, but I can probably see you tomorrow

Sounds good. See you tomorrow then :)

When they arrived at the house, Benji paused for a moment in the passenger seat of the car just to look at it. Those walls had always felt haunted to him, oppressed by memories of loss, grief, depression, self-loathing… His heart sped up a little as he stared at the front door and wondered whether he would be strong enough to go back in there. When was the last time he’d managed to walk through that door and remain sober?

But Ruth was standing there on the driveway waiting for him, ready to help him out of the car, and Asa would be home from school in a few hours, and it was time for Benji to start focusing on all the good this house harbored, on the living people here who loved him, rather than on the ghosts of the past.

Benji reached out and took his mother’s hand, let her pull him up to his feet.

That evening Dan stopped by to drop off some boxes of donuts and a couple bags of bagels from the same deli that Ruth always went to. She invited him to come in and join them for dinner, but Dan shook his head.

“Thank you, but I just wanted to bring you guys some snacks for your family time this weekend.” He caught Benji’s eye over Ruth’s shoulder, giving him a friendly smile. Benji reached for his cane, ready to get out of the armchair and come say hi, but Dan waved him off. “Don’t get up just for me. It’s good to see you home and looking better, Benji. I know you’ll be in good hands here.”

Ruth thanked him and disappeared outside to speak with him privately for a few minutes. When she came back a short while later, her face was glowing in a way Benji hadn’t see in years.

After dinner, Ruth popped open the box of donuts while the three of them watched meaningless TV. There was the usual assortment that his mom liked to buy, but to Benji’s surprise it also included no less than five chocolate old-fashioned’s.

Ruth noticed him staring at them and laughed. “I might’ve mentioned to Dan once that they’re your favorite. He’s got a memory like a steel trap, that man.”

Benji had been nothing but distant and rude to Dan at Christmas, and yet Dan had still gone out of his way to do something kind for Benji. He had to breathe for a few seconds past the lump in his throat before he could reach for one of the chocolate donuts and take a bite. He was halfway through eating his second one when Asa’s new girlfriend called and he slipped out of the room to talk with her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give Dan much of a chance before,” Benji said, into the comfortable quiet of the living room. “I guess that at first I couldn’t see what was special about him, but honestly I didn’t even try to. I was so wrapped up in comparing him with Dad that I completely lost sight of what matters the most, and that’s the fact that you look happier now than you have in years. If Dan is the one responsible for doing that, then he must be a pretty special guy after all.”

Ruth just stared at him for a moment, a little stunned, and then she suddenly reached up to brush a tear from her eye.

“Sorry,” she said, with a small, embarrassed laugh. “There must be something in these donuts, we’re not usually so sentimental around here.” She was quiet for a few seconds and then said, “You look happier these days, too. I heard from Richie – you know, the receptionist at the clinic – that Victor came to visit you pretty much every day you were there, and I’m guessing he might have had something to do with that. Have you two worked things out?”

“Not exactly… We’ve been talking a lot, but I hurt him really badly,” Benji admitted guiltily. “I lied to him, told him I was nameless, betrayed his trust. I don’t know if he’ll ever want to give me a second chance, and the truth is I don’t really deserve one.” Benji stared over at the empty armchair across the room. “You know, Dad once told me that love was a phenomenon. Something that happened to you rather than something you chose. And honestly, that’s how I’ve seen it all my life, like my soulmate was this catastrophe to be avoided. Something to fight against just to prove that I’m the one in control of my own fate.”

Ruth considered this for a moment before conceding, “Well, I guess your dad was right in a way. We can’t control things like our sexuality and who we’re attracted to, or what name will be written on our skin. But even so, if you really want to resist it, you can. You don’t have to be with that person. If you don’t want them, if you fall in love with someone else, if you don’t want a relationship at all… No one’s going to force you to be with your soulmate. You won’t be struck down by lightning or whatever. So ultimately it is a choice.”

“If it’s a choice, then what’s the point of soulmates at all? What makes them different than anyone else we might choose?”

There was a long pause while Ruth gave that question some thought. Finally she said, “I think that names are more about potential than they are about destiny. You’re not guaranteed to be happy with your named partner because relationships require work, no matter who’s involved, and they’re just as complicated as the people in them. Plenty of people find that they’re miserable with their named partner, or much happier with someone who isn’t a soulmate, or perhaps, like me, they are lucky enough to get to experience love with more than one person in their lifetime. The thing that makes that named person different, though, is that they have the potential to be something so good, a connection so deep, that it changes you forever. Maybe it’s God that brings souls together, or maybe it’s a force of nature. My grandmother always said that it’s the souls themselves that make the connection, that they recognize their kindred spirit first and then our hearts and minds are left to catch up. But in the end no matter how it happens or why it’s still a choice, Benji. You choose to open yourself up to that person. You choose to work through the hard times in order to have more of the good ones. You choose to be honest and loyal and vulnerable. And if you do, you’ll be rewarded with the greatest love you’ll ever know.”

They sat in silence for a while as Benji contemplated that. It felt as though Ruth had just taken everything he’d grown up believing about names and flipped it suddenly on its head. If it was a choice, then maybe that changed everything, because Benji was ready now to make it. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for Victor; if Victor would ever want to choose him in return after all he’d done.

Ruth must have caught the anxiety in his expression because she said gently, “No one’s perfect, and yet, so many of us expect our soulmate to be. We want them to be everything to us, fulfilling in all possible ways. To never hurt us or lie to us, to never betray us. But we’re all just human, Benji. All we can do for each other is our best, and have the grace to accept one another’s imperfections.”

They didn’t speak more about it after that because Asa returned to the room, but as they sat there with the TV playing Benji thought about all that Ruth had said, and all that had happened recently, and the way that Victor had been coming back each day, again and again, to talk with Benji, to share things with him that were difficult and painful, to open up to him in ways that no one ever had before. Despite his many doubts, he felt the fragile beginning of hope blossoming quietly within him.

Around eleven, as Benji was sitting up in bed reading, he heard the doorbell ring followed by soft voices speaking in the living room. To his surprise a few minutes later there was a knock on his bedroom door, and when he shuffled over to open it Ruth was there on the other side with Victor standing next to her.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late and this is weird, but can we talk?” Victor said in a rush.

“Uh,” Benji stammered, stepping back to let Victor in, “I mean, yeah, of course.”

Ruth gave them both a warm, knowing look. “Goodnight, B. Nice to see you again, Victor.”

“Thanks, Ruth,” Victor said a little shyly. Ruth wandered off down the hallway as Victor entered the room, and Benji closed the door behind him. For a second the two of them just stood there, staring at each other awkwardly, and then Victor apologized again. “Sorry, you probably think this is really crazy, but – uh, but I really needed to see you tonight.”

Benji was starting to feel a little worried. “Victor, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Victor stared back at him for a long moment and then blurted out, “I want to be with you.”

“What?” Benji said dumbly. Part of him was starting to wonder if he’d fallen asleep, if this was all part of some dream he was having. But there was Victor standing in front of him, cheeks slightly flushed, eyes dark and locked on Benji’s. He was really here, in Benji’s childhood room, and this was real.

“I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want to waste any more time.” Victor swallowed hard, looking nervous but more determined than Benji had ever seen him before. “I want to be with you, Benji. I almost lost you last week, and if I had I – I don’t know. I don’t know how I would’ve moved on from that. All my life I’ve been losing people, and I don’t want to lose you, too, before I’ve ever even really had the chance to have you. I don’t want to wait for everything to be perfect in order to be happy. I want to be happy now, and you’re the one that makes me happy. You’re the one that I-”

Whatever Victor had been about to say next, Benji would never know, because he couldn’t stand to waste any more time either. He grabbed a handful of Victor’s hoodie and pulled him down into a kiss that was a little too hard at first, a little desperate maybe, but it didn’t matter because it was Victor, it was Victor’s arms coming around his waist to hold him so tightly, it was Victor’s mouth pressed against his, warm and soft and wonderful, it was the taste and the smell and the touch of him that Benji had missed and craved and dreamt of for so long.

“You had me all this time,” Benji confessed. “From the very beginning, from the first time I saw you, you’ve had me. I was just too scared to let you see it.”

Victor cupped Benji’s face in his palms and kissed him again. They worked their way slowly to the bed, Victor supporting Benji those few feet, and ended up laid out on top of the blankets fully dressed, exchanging kisses that slowed from needy and frantic to lingering and soft, kisses that went on for what felt like hours, kisses that made Benji’s soul feel as though it were resounding with music.

“Can we just lie like this for the rest of the night?” Victor asked sometime later, face to face with Benji in his bed.

“That sounds perfect,” Benji answered. He’d never done this before, never just gone to sleep with another man without something more in between. It was nice. It was more than nice, really, it was everything he’d pushed away for so long, everything he’d been so scared of; everything he’d needed and hadn’t allowed himself to have. It was Victor, teaching him once again how to let go, how to let his guards down. It was Victor: the warmth of Victor’s hand reaching to take hold of his own, Victor’s face the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes, the sound of Victor’s breathing the last thing he heard before he drifted off. It was Victor and it was Benji; for once it was just as simple as that.

Chapter 20: Let the Mystery Be

Chapter Text

“Are you really sure you want to do this?” Victor asked. He took a step closer to Benji on the sidewalk outside Brasstown, giving a couple that were passing by a little more room to get around them. Anxiety automatically caused Benji’s pulse to speed at their proximity and he had to fight the urge to step back and put more space between them while they were in public. In defiance of his own fear, Benji drew in a deep, calming breath and reached out to intertwine his fingers with Victor’s. When he looked up at his boyfriend, Victor’s mouth was hanging open in such a dumbfounded way that it made Benji smile despite his nerves.

“Yes. This is really what I want to do,” Benji reassured him. He gave Victor’s hand a gentle tug, impatient to get into the cafe and out of the cold, but Victor hesitated.

He snapped his mouth shut at last and said, “You don’t have to tell her if you don’t want to. I know you’re working hard to be out and proud now, and I am so impressed by that, but that doesn’t mean you have to put absolutely everything on the line. If this goes badly, both of us could end up losing our jobs, and I know how much working here has meant to you…”

“Victor, have you changed your mind?”

“Well, no… I mean, I want to do this if you want to…”

Benji smiled up at him and gave his hand another tug. “I want to. So let’s get in there and get this over with.”

This time Victor allowed himself to be pulled along as Benji opened the door and stepped inside. It still felt a little strange walking without his cane, but after three weeks of physical therapy Benji’s back injury had improved a lot. He still had trouble if he stayed on his feet for too long, which meant that he’d been picking up shorter shifts since going back to work, but that was slowly getting better as well as time went on.

It was the quietest part of the afternoon and there was hardly anyone in the cafe, just a smattering of students hunched over laptops here and there across the room. Dave was behind the counter when they walked up, and his smile broadened as he took in their linked hands.

Rather than mentioning it, Dave spoke to Victor casually, as though nothing out of the ordinary were happening. “I didn’t think you were working today.”

“I’m not,” Victor confirmed. “We just wanted to talk with Sarah about something. Is she here?”

“Back in the office,” Dave answered. He nodded at Benji in greeting. “It’s good to see you, man. We missed you around here.” He gave them a knowing grin. “Some of us missed you more than others, though.”

Benji cut his gaze over to Victor just in time to catch the flush that darkened his cheeks. “It’s good to see you, too,” Benji told Dave. “Hey, um, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for snapping at you the last time we ran into each other. I was going through some heavy stuff at the time but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that.”

“No worries. I’m sorry, too, for sticking my foot in my mouth. I, uh, have a tendency to do that sometimes… But hey, I hope you’re here to talk to Sarah about what I think you’re here for, and I hope it goes well. This place isn’t the same without you, dude.”

“Thanks, Dave.”

Benji had just released Victor’s hand and raised his fist to knock on the door to the manager’s office when it swung open unexpectedly to reveal Sarah.

“Benji,” she exclaimed in surprise, “what are you doing back here?”

Benji rolled his eyes. “Nice to see you, too, Sarah.”

“Are you doing better now? Come on, come inside.” She waved them into the small space, where they stood awkwardly in front of the cluttered desk since there weren’t enough chairs for all three of them. “How have things been since the accident?”

Benji had told Adam, the manager at the new location he was working at, about his accident without sparing any details since the truth was going to come out sooner rather than later anyway. Benji’s probation officer had to check in with his employer from time to time during his three month probation period so there was no point trying to hide anything, and Benji himself had called Sarah to let her know what had happened as well. It was so hard being open about these things but Benji knew that honesty was the only way he’d be able to truly move forward.

“I’m doing really well now, thanks,” Benji told her. “My injury is much better and I’ve been slowly picking up longer shifts at work. I think I’ll be able to go back to a full-time schedule in about another week or so.”

“That’s great. I’m so glad to hear that.”

Victor glanced nervously at Benji, who looked back at him with all the confidence he could muster. This was it. Their moment of truth.

“There’s, uh, something we wanted to talk to you about,” Victor began.

Sarah stared hard at Benji. “Please, please tell me you’re here to ask me about transferring back. Kayla has been doing her best to fill in for you but it is just not the same. That girl can make a mean cappuccino but she can’t work a spreadsheet to save her life.”

“Well, actually…” Benji said, and was interrupted immediately by Sarah letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Oh thank god. Consider it done. I’ll get everything sorted out with Adam for you-”

“Uh, there’s something else you need to know first,” Benji cut in.

Sarah frowned. “If it’s about your, uh, personal stuff related to the accident, we will need to have a discussion about that, but from what I understand you’re doing everything you should be doing right now to deal with it, right?”

Benji nodded. “Yes, and I’m willing to answer any questions you have about it, but that’s not what I meant. It, uh, it’s actually about Victor. Me and Victor…”

In the face of Sarah’s expectant stare Benji faltered, but Victor stepped in to clear everything up by linking their hands together again. Victor’s voice was sure and strong as he said, “Benji and I are in a relationship now. We’re named partners.”

Sarah blinked a couple of times rapidly but other than that didn’t react beyond a simple, “Oh. Okay.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Benji asked hesitantly. “If I transfer back here, I mean.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.” Sarah’s mouth turned up in a smirk. “Wait, have you been worried about telling me all this time? How did you miss the fact that I’m gayer than a room full of pro golfers?”

“Wait, what?” Benji blurted out, at the exact same moment that Victor said, “Ohhhh…”

“Look, as long as you do your jobs and I don’t walk in on any unprofessional behavior in the back room then we’re good,” Sarah said, brushing past their surprise impatiently. She reached a hand out to him, her eyes warm as she said, “Welcome back, Benji.”

Adam took the news about Benji’s transfer well, and a few days later Benji had his first shift at his original Brasstown. Victor was working that morning, too, and when Benji looked up from cleaning off the counter to see him walk through the door, a smile on his face that was just for Benji… Nothing had ever felt more right. They had each other, and the cafe that had always felt like home to Benji was now a safe space for them, and everything was finally as it should be. No more hiding. No more lying. Just Victor’s soft smile in the morning light, his brown eyes shining with affection. Just Benji looking back at him and feeling his heart swell impossibly big, more in love with this man than he ever believed he could allow himself to be.

They still had the place to themselves so Victor rounded the counter, leaned in close, and greeted Benji with a kiss.

“So how are things going with you and Victor?” Ruth asked the following Sunday when Benji came home to visit. She’d clearly been waiting all afternoon for her chance to bring up the topic, and now that Asa and Dan were occupied in the kitchen making dinner she’d seized the moment.

Benji took a long sip of his coffee before answering. Even now, weeks after coming out to his family, he still sometimes found that talking about his relationship with Victor got his anxiety running high. As Derek had told him, Benji had a lot to unlearn, and it would take time to let go of all those years of shame. It got a little easier each time he opened up, but it still felt like he was just chipping away at an iceberg.

“It’s really good,” Benji admitted quietly, pushing past the instinctive urge to put his guards up. “We actually told Sarah about us recently, before I transferred back to the Creekwood location. She was completely fine with it.”

The corners of Ruth’s eyes crinkled a little with the width of her smile. “That’s wonderful, honey.”

“Yeah, we’ve been pretty lucky. What with you guys accepting us, and Sarah, and most of our friends… I never expected things to work out this well. I guess I always thought that if I ever came out, you’d, uh – well, I never expected it to be so easy.”

The air between them suddenly felt thick with tension, and Benji wanted to kick himself for taking what had been a nice moment and making it uncomfortable. All he’d meant to express was his gratitude for how well things had turned out, but now his mother’s good mood had grown abruptly somber.

“Benji… I’m so sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. I should’ve made it clear a long time ago when I first suspected what was going on with you that I’d be okay with it. But the truth is…” She trailed off, letting out a heavy sigh. “The truth is that I was scared for you. I didn’t want to know for sure that you were gay because from what I’ve seen the world is not very kind to people who are different.”

Part of Benji didn’t really want to know the answer to the question burning inside of him, because the thought of her being aware of what he’d been struggling with for all those years and never doing anything to support him hurt so much, but on the other hand… On the other hand, he felt like he had to ask. Like he might obsess over it forever if he didn’t.

“When did you first suspect that I might be gay? Was it that day you saw the tattoo?”

Ruth sucked in her lower lip, her hands tightening around the mug of coffee she was holding. Benji could hear the note of guilt in her voice as she said, “No, I think it started before that.” She set the cup down on the table before them and shifted a little on the sofa, so that she was facing him directly. “Benji, do you remember going to visit your dad at the hospital just after his first stroke? Do you remember how he was having trouble speaking then?”

“Yeah,” Benji said slowly, confused by what seemed to be a sudden change in topic. “He kept mixing up words for stuff, like calling a knife a fork, and forgetting the word he wanted to say because of the, uh, the speech impediment…”

“The aphasia,” Ruth supplied. “Well, that very first week after the stroke, he kept getting everyone’s name wrong. Do you remember that? He kept calling me by his name, and-”

Realization dawned, and with it a sudden chill ran down Benji’s spine.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “Oh god, I completely forgot about that. He – he called me-”

“He kept calling me ‘Paul’, and he called Asa ‘Olivia’,” Ruth continued, her eyes watching him so carefully. “And he called you ‘Victor’.”

Silence. Benji couldn’t speak. He could hardly breathe. Only the beating of his heart kept him anchored to the present moment.

“It was only for a few days or so, and once he was better he never talked about the mix up with everyone’s names, but I always wondered what it meant. Later, when Asa got his name and it turned out to be Olivia, I remembered what had happened with your dad. That’s when I made the connection. That’s when I felt pretty certain that you were gay, but – but I messed up. I didn’t want to accept it, I didn’t want our lives to be even harder than they already were. You were never the same after your dad died, and I just didn’t want you to suffer even more. But I can see now that by never talking about it all I did was make things worse. I am so, so sorry for that, Benji. I will spend the rest of my life regretting it.”

A strange kind of numbness had settled over Benji. He didn’t know what to think about what Ruth had just told him. He could tell that it was going to hurt later on, when the shock faded away. But for now he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

“Do you think he knew?” Benji whispered.

“I don’t know. I’ve wondered that, too, but I really don’t know. If he did, he never said anything to me about it.”

They were quiet for a long while as Benji attempted to process what his mother had just told him and failed abysmally. All he could do was sit there and hear the words over and over again in his head.

“…and he called you ‘Victor’.”

Finally, he found himself saying, “Lately I just keep thinking about Dad, I guess because the yahrzeit is coming up this week. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I’m out now to pretty much everyone who matters in my life, but – but I never got to tell him. And I never will. I’ll never get to find out if he would have accepted me or not. I’ll never get to introduce Victor to him.”

When Ruth spoke, after a long moment of hesitation, she chose her words slowly and with care. “I can’t say for sure whether your dad would have been okay with it. You know how he grew up, in a small town, with a deeply religious family. Some of that stuck with him all his life. But your dad also turned his back on a lot of that when he left it behind him and moved down here to Atlanta. He didn’t believe in God or fate or anything like that. He didn’t believe in an afterlife. Whenever we talked about it he used to say, ‘There are some questions in life that don’t have answers, so why not just let the mystery be?’ That always felt like such a cop out to me back then, but now… Now I think I can see the wisdom in it.”

She reached a hand out and settled it on top of Benji’s. “He loved you boys so much, you know? You two meant the world to him. Maybe he was right and this life is all we get, but if he is out there somewhere I think he’d be pretty pleased with the way things are going now. You’ve been working so hard to get better, and it’s obvious how much happier you are now that you can truly be yourself. Now that you have Victor. I think seeing you happy would have made him happy, too. I think it might have been just as simple as that.”

Benji let her pull him into a hug and didn’t try to stop the tears that streamed down his cheeks and dampened the shoulder of Ruth’s shirt. She held him and stroked his hair gently and Benji felt overcome with gratitude once again for all that he had. A home. A family who loved and accepted him fully. A boyfriend he would see later that night. And by some miracle a whole life laid out ahead of him, rich with possibility.

“Why don’t you invite Victor to the yahrzeit?” Ruth suggested when they eventually pulled apart.

“Really?”

“Of course. Victor’s family now, too. He should be there.” She smiled with her eyes, those hazel eyes that were the exact same blend of green and brown and gold as his own. “I know it’s not the kind of introduction you meant, but in a way, you can introduce Victor to your dad next week.”

In his mind he saw Victor standing there beside him at the synagogue with the rest of his family. Saw Victor becoming his family little by little over time with every yahrzeit and holiday and Sunday dinner. It was hard to believe it could be real. It was hard to believe Benji could somehow be this lucky.

“Okay,” Benji agreed. “I’ll ask him about it.” He returned his mom’s smile. “And maybe Dan should be there, too. Like you said, it doesn’t just have to be the three of us against the world anymore.”

Ruth pressed a kiss to his forehead and said, “No, we can be so much more than that now.”

“Does this look okay?” Victor asked as he anxiously smoothed his palms over the dark blazer he was wearing. “I tried to get all the wrinkles out, but I haven’t worn it in a long time, and-”

Benji cupped Victor’s face in his palm and silenced his nervous rambling with a kiss. “Relax, you look great.” Benji’s phone buzzed with a text message, which turned out to be from Asa. “They’re here. You ready to go?”

Victor nodded. As he was lacing up his dress shoes, Benji checked to make sure that the memorial candle he’d lit the night before was still burning. It stood there on top of a shelf, flickering brightly beside the portrait of Paul. It was the same one Victor had complimented once, which Benji knew was technically not very good even though it had a certain honesty to it that made the gaze linger. There was something about the flame and the painting, something about the energy in the brushstrokes… Victor had been right, the movement in the lines mirrored the movement of the flame; both felt somehow dynamic.

Both felt alive.

Down in the parking lot Benji’s family was waiting for them. Ruth and Dan were seated in the front of the car, so Victor and Benji had to squeeze into the back next to Asa.

“Morning,” Asa said as he looked them over. “You guys clean up pretty good. Maybe I should’ve gone for a blazer, too…”

“If you’re set on becoming a lawyer, you have a whole lifetime of suits ahead of you,” Benji pointed out. “I think Dad would’ve been okay with you living free and comfy while you can.”

Ruth nodded as she pulled out onto the road. “It’s true. There was nothing your dad hated more than being forced to wear a suit. If anything, you’re honoring his memory by not wearing a blazer today.”

“My dad’s the same way,” Victor told them, a little shyly. He was smiling, a small, tight smile, but Benji could see the hint of pain in his expression that was always there when Victor talked about his parents. “I think if he could get away with wearing nothing but plaid shirts his entire life he’d do it.”

“Nothing wrong with a nice plaid shirt,” Dan commented, tugging on the collar of the plaid button-up he was wearing beneath his jacket.

“Oh, of course, they’re a classic for a reason, right?” Victor laughed awkwardly, one of his feet rapidly tapping against the floor. “That color totally suits you by the way.”

Benji brushed a discrete hand against Victor’s leg in what he hoped was a soothing gesture and the tapping began to slow somewhat. Prior to this day, Victor had only met Benji’s family on a couple of occasions, and he still had a tendency to get very anxious and socially awkward whenever he did. Benji wasn’t sure if it was just general nerves or if it was connected to something deeper, to the loss of his own family maybe.

About halfway to their destination Ruth said, “So, Benji, I was thinking that maybe this year you might like to be the one to recite the kaddish.”

Benji caught her gaze in the rear view mirror and held it in shock. “You want me to do it? I don’t know if I even remember the correct pronunciation…”

“I can help you with it before the service,” Dan offered. “I lost my own father last year so I got plenty of practice.”

“Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that,” Benji said sympathetically. “May his memory be a blessing.”

“Thank you, and the same to you. I really don’t mind helping, if you think you’d like to recite the prayer.”

Now that they were only about ten minutes away from the temple and his mother had suggested that he be the one to speak, Benji found that it was his turn to be hit by a sudden wave of anxiety. “I don’t know if I can…”

“I really think that it would be good for you,” Ruth insisted.

The thought of standing up in front of everyone, even if it would probably be the bare minimum number of people there to form a minyan, had a cold sweat breaking out across his skin. Why him? Why choose the f*ck up of the family to represent them before god? Or at least before their community, since Benji wasn’t much of a believer in a higher power. He was a liar and an addict, a queer who would be showing up to this memorial service with a male lover… His mother had reassured him that all were welcome at the reform synagogue she had been attending the past year, but he still had his doubts about that.

“It’s not a long prayer,” Dan pointed out in an attempt to be helpful. “You won’t have to be in the spotlight for very long. But there is something really rewarding about saying it.”

Benji pushed his hand through his hair roughly, probably making a mess of it but too agitated to care. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Victor watching him in concern. “I just… I don’t know if I even believe in any of that stuff. Wouldn’t it be better for one of you guys to say it? Since it means more to you?”

“If you really don’t want to do it, then I will,” Asa chimed in. “Although I don’t think I can pronounce the words right either…”

“That would be really lovely, honey, but I think that this year your brother might be the one who could benefit from doing this the most,” Ruth replied.

“You know, the thing about the Mourner’s Kaddish that makes it really interesting is that it never mentions death at all,” Dan said. “It’s all about praising God and expressing hope for a better future. It’s all about life.”

Benji really, really didn’t want to be the one to stand up there and stumble over the words, but he could see past Ruth’s casual demeanor, and he knew that for whatever reason, this meant a lot to her. And after all Benji had put his family through recently, maybe this was the least he could do in return.

“Okay, I’ll say it,” he finally agreed.

When they got to the temple, Victor touched his arm lightly just before they were about to step inside. Benji let the others go on ahead of them as he paused to speak with Victor.

“Are you okay?” Victor asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Benji told him, hoping that he might be able to somehow fake it until he made it. “Just a little nervous.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great. I mean, you can’t speak Spanish but you were able to sing that song for me beautifully, so I’m pretty sure you can handle a little Hebrew.”

“Aramaic, actually, which is a lot harder, but…” Benji let out a sigh. “But it’s fine. I’ll do my best.”

Victor stared down at Benji’s hand uncertainly, and then looked up to meet his gaze. There was a fear there that Benji recognized, that he himself felt as well. A doubt that it was really okay for them, as two men, to walk into a place of worship with linked hands. He knew that in some ways coming here was even harder for Victor than it was for him, despite the fact that this was a memorial service for Benji’s father. Victor had spent so much of his life trampled down and hurt by a religious institution, and the trauma of that experience was a wound he’d bear for years to come.

So Benji reached down deep within himself for some reserve of strength and slowly took Victor’s hand in his own.

Victor swallowed thickly. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“According to my mom, the Rabbi here is cool with gay people, and there are even some gay couples in the community, so yeah, I guess so,” Benji told him with more confidence than he truly felt. He gripped Victor’s hand a little tighter, in an effort to convince himself as well as Victor that it really would be okay.

And somehow, it actually was. When they stepped into the building, they found the rest of Benji’s family chatting in the lobby with a middle-aged woman who had shoulder length brown hair and dark-rimmed glasses. She caught sight of Victor and Benji and offered them a friendly smile. There wasn’t even a hint of discomfort or disapproval in her expression.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Rabbi Alison Frisch,” she said as she shook hands with them. She met Benji’s eyes and said, “I hear that you’ll be the one reciting the prayer today? Dan has said he’ll give you a little coaching, but I’m here to help as well if you need it. Just let me know when you’re ready to get started.”

“Thanks,” Benji said. He spent about five minutes with Dan going over the words of the prayer, which he hadn’t heard since the previous year’s service, and hadn’t been the one to speak out loud in even longer. But the phrases came back to him slowly the more they practiced, and finally he felt as ready as he’d ever be.

In the main part of the temple a small group of people was waiting for them, including Ruth, Asa, and Victor. When Benji had first stepped into the room he’d been struck by self-consciousness, by a sudden fear that everyone gathered there would take one look at him and judge him unworthy. But the sight of Victor standing there next to his mother and brother, looking a little anxious but otherwise fitting so well beside them, made nearly all of Benji’s fear melt away. Benji wasn’t doing this for god, or to impress these strangers, or out of obligation; he was doing this for his family. He was doing it out of love, out of respect. He was doing it for the living just as much as for the dead.

Benji took his place at the front and somehow made it through the entire prayer without horribly embarrassing himself by stuttering over the difficult words. Behind him he could hear the others giving the response, Victor’s voice among them, tripping a little over the unfamiliar sounds but doing his best to join them in honoring Paul’s memory.

And as Benji spoke the prayer he realized for the first time that Dan was right. There was something strangely uplifting about it, something he’d never noticed before. “May there be abundant peace from Heaven and life for us” the English translation read.

Abundant peace. Life. Benji didn’t think that he believed in god, but if god did exist and could somehow hear this prayer, Benji couldn’t think of a better request to make.

After the service, Rabbi Alison shook his hand again. “You did wonderfully. Take care, Benji, and may his memory be for a blessing.”

It was the same phrase Benji had been hearing for the last ten years, the same one he’d offered Dan earlier that morning, but this time it was different. The words no longer felt scripted, like some part of a ritual. They were old, yes, and traditional but when the rabbi spoke them to him with so much sincerity, shaking his hand as he stood there with Victor beside him like that was the most natural thing in the world, like the two of them belonged – this time the words were different. This time they truly felt like a blessing.

They drove to the cemetery next. The grave looked just as cold and impersonal as it always did to Benji, but he stepped up after his mom and Asa and left a stone to mark his presence just like he did every year. Dan placed one next, and when he had finished Ruth nodded at Victor.

“Your turn,” she said, causing Victor’s eyes to widen in surprise. Victor awkwardly looked around for a rock for far too long, rooting around in the grass nearby, and they all laughed when Asa eventually took pity and handed him one.

“Thanks,” Victor muttered shyly, and went to place his stone next to the one Benji had left behind.

“Paul always liked this tradition,” Ruth said as they all stood back and looked at the grave. “He used to come with me to visit my grandparents’ graves for their yahrzeit, and when he lost his own mom he started leaving stones for her, too. He said he liked the permanence of it. The rocks wouldn’t wilt away to nothing, and neither would the memories.”

“Do you guys remember that time Dad decided to build a rock wall in the backyard?” Asa asked. “Around the flowerbed?”

Ruth let out a laugh. “He dug up half the yard just looking for those damn rocks.”

“And then he dropped one of the big ones on his foot and broke his pinky toe,” Benji added, a fond, bittersweet amusem*nt bubbling up inside of him at the memory. “He made me and Asa bring him ice packs for it all day.”

“And the wall collapsed a week later, and he had to redo the whole thing,” Asa finished. “He was really terrible at building stuff, wasn’t he?”

Ruth nodded. “The worst. Be grateful you were too little to remember the time he attempted to put up a shed. But he never gave up on his projects once he got started, I’ll give him that.”

“I wish I could have met him,” Victor said when they fell quiet, the three Campbells lost in their memories of Paul. “He sounds like he was a really great guy.”

“He was,” Ruth agreed, with a surprisingly tender look at Victor. “And I think he would’ve liked to meet you, too.” She grinned. “He finally would have had someone to watch sports with in this family.”

They stood there for a while longer sharing stories of Paul’s life, each one an invocation. Benji almost began to feel like Paul was there with them, but in the end it wasn’t until he was back at his own apartment, him and Victor kicking off their shoes and removing their blazers that he finally felt it.

The candle before the portrait hadn’t burnt out yet. There wasn’t much wick left, but the flame was still there, giving off a bright vitality. As Benji stood there looking at it Victor walked up beside him, wrapping an arm around Benji’s waist and pulling him in against Victor’s side. Benji leaned into him, grateful for the warmth of his presence.

Into the quiet of the room he found himself whispering, “Dad, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Two and a half months later

“Hey everyone, we’re The Distant Ships, and we’re so excited to be here with you tonight,” Benji greeted the crowd. The small venue was packed with people, their faces a blur beneath lights nearly bright enough to blind him. He could only make out the faces in the front row clearly, but those were the only ones that mattered to him anyway: Lake and Felix, Mia and Andrew, Kayla, Dave and Becca. Victor. Asa with his new girlfriend, Felicia. Benji wasn’t sure how the two of them had gotten into the bar, but as long as they behaved themselves and he didn’t catch them drinking he wasn’t going to give Asa a hard time about it.

Benji adjusted the mic a little and continued, “This is our first gig in about three months, so we have a lot of new material for you tonight. We’re gonna open with one of my personal favorites, which I wrote for someone very important to me.” He caught Victor’s eyes and the rest of the crowd seemed to melt away into nothing. Just like the first night they’d met, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Benji smiled at him and said, “This one’s for you.”

It was their first show in so long, and Benji had been a little worried that he wouldn’t perform well. He’d always been drunk at gigs in the past and part of him was scared that he needed the alcohol in order to fully relax and let himself feel the music. But as he began to play, his fingers moved easily over the strings, and the words came to him effortlessly, because Victor was there looking back at him with so much love and faith, and that was all that Benji needed in order to let go.

“In the void of this blank page
Somewhere in the white
Somewhere in the nothing
Is there a way to say I’m sorry?
A way to say forgive me
A way to make things right.

Tell me love
Is there anything scarier
than truly being seen?
I’m spread out on this paper
Heart and soul
Asking you to bear witness
to who I am and who I’ve been.”

Benji had written and rewritten these words over and over again during the past months, trying to get them perfect. He’d spent hours obsessing over it, working on the melody, taking Derek’s edits into consideration, redoing whole sections of the song. And now, finally, he was here on stage performing it for Victor at last. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought of it. He kept his eyes on Victor as he sang and let everything else, every worry, every doubt, every instinct to put his guards up and keep his heart hidden… he let it all just disappear.

“And I won’t, I won’t, I won’t run anymore
I won’t, I won’t, I won’t run anymore
All that I am is all I can give
All that you are is all that I need
If love finds us worthy
It’s you that I choose
With your hand in mine
I’ve got nothing to lose.

And I thought I
could direct the course of love
And I thought I
could teach my heart not to feel
But in the end it’s love
that has directed my course
In the end it’s you
that my soul was waiting for.”

The music swelled up around him, flowing through him and out of him, into the dark. It reminded him of the album art on his guitar strap: the thin band of light hitting the prism and being transformed into an arc of many colors. It reminded him of the way Victor’s love had opened him up and changed him forever.

“So I won’t, I won’t, I won’t run anymore
I won’t, I won’t, I won’t run anymore
All that I am is all I can give
All that you are is all that I need
If love finds us worthy
It’s you that I choose
With your hand in mine
I’ve got nothing to lose

If love finds us worthy
It’s you that I choose
It’s you that I choose.”

When the notes faded away and Derek began to lead them into the next song, Benji felt like a part of himself was still stuck in the previous moment. The rest of the show passed by in a haze, the high of adrenaline and lights and applause and music, the high of Victor’s smile through the whole thing, the buzz of knowing that when it was all over it would be just the two of them again, him and Victor, in Benji’s bed. That it would be Victor’s face that he saw when he went to sleep that night, and Victor again in the morning when he opened his eyes.

And that’s exactly how it was – after the praise from his friends and Asa, after the goodbyes with the band, after the taxi ride home – it was just them again. It was Victor’s mouth on his, hungry, loving, reverent, and Benji’s hands stroking through his hair and over the smooth skin of his back, Victor’s eyes dark with need as they kissed again and again and found a rhythm together… It was just them, curving into each other, foreheads not quite close enough to touch, hands pressed palm to palm like a holy palmers’ kiss.

It was just them in the morning, Victor’s smile the first thing Benji saw. Victor whispering, “I love you,” the first thing that he heard.

“You don’t have to say it back, but-”

“I love you, too,” Benji returned, saying the words out loud for the first time. How many times had he already said them inside his head, inside his heart, before this? Too many too count. “Of course I do. I’m sorry I was too scared to say it before.”

“You said it now,” Victor told him, rolling suddenly to cover Benji’s body with his own. He leaned on his arms over Benji, grinning down at him, hair a mess, eyes bright with joy. “That’s all that matters.”

He kissed Benji’s neck and worked his way down his chest, teasing and playful, always so full of energy in the morning. Benji laid back and just let himself feel – desire and love and contentment, every good thing, all wrapped up in this one moment. But then Victor paused, hovering over Benji’s torso, staring down at his ribs, and Benji realized he was running a finger lightly over the lines of his name written across Benji’s skin.

“What do you think caused the tattoo to vanish?” Victor asked.

“I’ve thought about it a lot the past few months, and I think I finally understand it now,” Benji said. “It’s actually part of what I was trying to tell you in the song I wrote. I think it was choice that made the tattoo disappear. Every time I chose you, some part of it must have faded away, until that moment in the hospital when I was finally ready to, uh – to give myself to you. Fully. All the good and all the bad, everything. I was so scared when the tattoo started disappearing at first because it made me feel like everything was spiraling out of control, like my life was falling apart all around me and I could do nothing to stop it. At the motel I just assumed it was you making it happen and that’s why I ran away, but all along it was actually me causing the change. It was me choosing you, again and again. Maybe none of this was really fate after all.”

Benji placed a hand against the side of Victor’s face, guided him back up so that he could hold Victor’s gaze as he said this. He needed Victor to hear it, needed him to know what this relationship meant to him. It felt bigger even than saying “I love you,” because Victor must have known that already, there was no way he could have missed it. But this – it was possible that maybe Victor still didn’t know this, and it was what mattered most of all.

“You’re not my destiny, Victor,” Benji told him, more sure of this than he’d ever been of anything in his life. “You’re so much more than that. You’re my choice.”