Wes plays the piano, the sound seeping into every corner of the house and even though I'm tucked away in my room it's soothing. He's always had such a gift, pouring emotion into the simplest of melodies, giving the piano so much heart and soul, playing intricate lines with an effortless touch.
I've missed this.
Hearing him play, being close to Wes.
For as annoying as Wes has always found himself, I find him to be the complete opposite. He's a source of grounding for me, calm, patient, forgiving, and I need that in my life more than anything.
I fall back into my bed, my phone clutched in my hand as I hover it above me. I swore I wouldn't do it, I wouldn't torture myself but I'm a creature of bad habits, searching for James' social media so I can see if he's single.
His gray eyes pierce the photo of him on his profile picture, his mouth turned up in a big smile, smiles that I used to get all the time, smiles that still make everything in me go haywire. Maybe more so now, now that they're rare for me.
I haven't seen him in so long.
I've limited myself to photographs and short chaotic video clips that he posts on Instagram. Watching them on repeat to fill the hole he made in my soul. The hole I made actually. I did this.
There's a new video of him, some other guy's voice narrating the scene as James laughs. I can't tell what's going on, or who the other guy is, but if the jealousy that pricks my heart means anything I bet they're together. At least in some capacity.
I listen to the video, his laugh, more than I probably should but I'm just trying to commit it to memory. James has no reason to forgive me, again. I know that. I'm preparing myself for that. It's what I deserve honestly. This constant throbbing pain in my chest, loneliness that has crept into every crevice of my body.
Whoever this guy is, I already don't like him. Pure pettiness on my part. But I hate the way that James is smiling as he videos, the laugh that tumbles out of James. I hate that he's there with James, I hate the happiness I can hear in his voice as he laughs along with him. I hate that he's probably out, he's probably comfortable being himself, going out with James not as secret lovers but as lovers. As boyfriends.
Whoever this guy is, he's probably everything I want to be, but don't know how.
How do you rewrite what you've been taught? How do you snuff out phobias that have been pushed on you? How do you eradicate all the opinions and beliefs that you never were able to fully adopt on your own?
It's a shit place to be. Stuck between what I want, who I love and this acceptable lifestyle that domineered my childhood. A lifestyle that I don't actually want but I can't seem to gather enough strength to just stop.
I let the video play on a continuous loop, my heart lurching in my chest everytime it starts over and James' smile lights up the screen just before he laughs. It's a moment I love, a moment that makes me want to smile too, I want a laugh alongside him but I stifle it down because I'm not the guy videoing and I'm not there with James. I'm being a creep, stalking his Instagram because that's the closest I can get to him.
A knock raps against the door startling me so hard I drop my phone, hitting my glasses and I let out a curse word at the pain that blooms across the bridge of my nose.
"Yeah?" I call, shoving myself up as I inspect my glasses for damages.
"Sorry." Wes tics as he opens the door, a quiet one that I don't remember him having. The one side of his face making an exaggerated wink.
"No problem." I say, hoping to skip past any questions about what I was doing. "What's up?"
"Some friends from my..." he whistles, his same old tics that he's had for years coming out after. "..class wanted to meet up." There's a stiffening of his posture, tension that he holds in his face that means only one thing, he's surpressing tics. "Want to come?"
His question comes out rushed and as he finishes he blurts "hello cunt!".
We both stare at each other for a minute, Wes wringing his neck as he adds "that tic sucks."
And I can't help but laugh but he's absolutely right. A grin splits across Wes' face, that same old grin. The one that I fell in love with, the one that I've secretly loved for so long but there's something very comforting in it. The fact that I've been able to love it, that me being gay didn't bother Wes, that I can still love it, even if it's only me that ever knows the change in rhythm of my heart.
It's Wes. And if me coming home from Washington has proved anything, it's that Wes will always be Wes and I'll always be Brett and we'll always be the same. Which is a huge load off my shoulders.
"It's not the best." I agree with him. "Will I be crashing something?"
He stares at me, his brow knit slightly and I give him a minute to center his train of thought.
"No, you won't."
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Oh sweet Wes.
