Maven's eyes wandered across the room, his hands shaking slightly. He should have been at work hours ago. Iris left at 7 am. He was supposed to leave at 8. But he was at home, on his couch. His eyes were slightly wet, though he hadn't been crying. His mind was on Iris and Thomas and his father and Cal and his mother and everyone. He married Iris, then he met Thomas 2 years later. Iris was there first, laying next to him and kissing him and letting him lean on her shoulder. And then Thomas came along, just a friend, then a bit more, then something else entirely. Iris had become his other, even though that wasn't how it should have been. Thomas should have been the other. Thomas should have been nothing at all.
So Maven sat on his couch and let his eyes wander the room. He let his hands shake. And he told his wife that he was at work when she called. He told his boss he was sick, and he told himself that he was going to figure it out. He was never much of a liar, but that day, he lied to everyone. Even himself. But that was fine, all the lies he told would make up for all the truths he had told every other day of his life.
His feet somehow found their way to the bathroom, and his hands somehow had the sense to open the door. His fingers managed to turn the knob on the tub, and his hands had the idea to pull off his clothes. Maven sat on the floor of the tub, his face resting on his knees as the shower sprayed. It was hot to the touch, leaving his pale skin red and slightly irritated, but he let it run. The shower wasn't of need, he had taken one earlier that day, therefore he was considered clean. This shower was a shower of pity. The kind of shower one takes when he feels like theres no other choice. The kind of shower that one takes when he feels disgusting on the inside. Not the outside.
Maven always had a way of not letting people know his thoughts. No one, absolutely no one knew about Thomas, nor did they know about the feelings he's had for his entire life. His eyes gave away nothing, his face gave away nothing. He was a stone. Except for when he was with Thomas. When he was with Thomas, his values changed. He was happy. He was happy with Iris, too. Sometimes. Not nearly as much as he used to be. In his 28 years of life, Maven had never been happier with someone. He loved Thomas.
He loved Iris, too.
That was his problem, despite the mask, he was an emotional man. These emotions were made very clear when his eyes began to make a salty liquid that couldn't have been tears. Maven didn't cry. Maven never cried. But an ugly sound erupted out from underneath the stone he had been feeling in his throat. A sob shattered the stone and pushed its way up his throat and into his mouth, shoving past his teeth and bursting from his lips. Another one followed, his eyes burning with the poison leaking from them. His hands began to shake horribly, the previous tremors nothing compared to this, and his head lifted to face the water that came down, burning his face.
He stayed like that for a minute, or an hour, or a day. Then he got out of the tub and turned the water off and dried off his body. He examined his face in the mirror but soon looked away, deciding that he wasn't worth looking at. His phone buzzed. It was Thomas, texting him. Maven didn't know whether or not to answer the text, but decided to answer, because it was Thomas. He had to answer.
Thomas: I just got off, wanna come over?
Maven: I'll be there in 20
So in Maven's utter repugnance with himself, he combed his hair out, changed into a pair of black jeans and a red shirt, and left his house. His and his wife's house. He watched the road pass, and he saw Thomas's apartment building come into view. He pulled in, walked up the stairs, and used the spare key he had on his keychain to unlock his lover's door. He opened the door, and found Thomas lounging on his couch.
