It Takes Two | ✓

Chapter 15

Gabe reached the door and wasn't sure where to go from there. He knocked, but there was no response. Well, it was his room too. He opened the door and walked in.

Trist looked over from where he was laying on the top bunk. He hadn't been doing anything; just staring at the ceiling.

He'd taken his shirt off, and Gabe took the opportunity to unselfconsciously appreciate the gentle curves of his muscles for the first time. "Your family loves you and is proud of you."

Trist stared back at him, expression unshifting. "Cool."

"And me, apparently. Love seemed like a strong word, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"You don't think they really love you?"

Gabe shut the door and leant back against it. "Well, they haven't known me that long. But hey, what is love, right?"

Trist turned his head to stare back up at the ceiling. "Mm."

"Trist?"

He kept staring at the ceiling. "Yeah?"

"Do you want me to leave you alone?"

He shook his head.

Gabe hesitated, knuckles tapping a nervous rhythm against the door. "Do you want to come and lay on the bottom bunk with me?"

Trist turned and looked at Gabe now, watching him in silence for a long moment. "Okay."

Trist climbed down from the top bunk and then he was there in front of Gabe, and shirtless. Gabe didn't know where to point his eyes — not at Trist's body, probably, but he couldn't meet his gaze, either — so he went and laid down on his bunk instead and patted the spot beside him. Trist climbed in next to him and then he was still shirtless but now very, very close as well.

Trist lay down on his back and lifted his arm so that Gabe could settle in with his head on his chest. He was warm and solid. His fingers stroked slow lines up and down Gabe's arm. It felt comfortable in an entirely novel way, or perhaps just comforting.

When Trist turned his face towards Gabe, Gabe leveraged himself on an elbow so that their lips could meet. He shifted so that he was half on top of Trist to give them a better angle as they kissed and then Trist's hand was on his ass and that sure was something. His hand buried itself in Trist's hair, wild and unruly, but softer than it appeared. Trist's tongue slipped into his mouth and he felt out the shape of it with his own as Trist's hand squeezed his ass.

And then Trist's hand slipped under the side of Gabe's shirt, took hold of it, started tugging up.

Gabe turned his head out of the kiss and pulled back as far as he could with a wall practically at his back.

"Sorry," Trist said. "Did I hurt you again?"

"No, I just—" Gabe pushed the bottom of his shirt back down. "I've just never done anything like this before."

"Anything like...?"

Gabe stared down at his hand as it twisted in the bottom of his shirt. "Like, anything. At all. With anyone."

"Oh, shit, sorry. I didn't mean to be pushy. Do you want me to give you some space?"

"No, I just— No."

Trist lifted his arm up in invitation. "Do you want to start over and just talk instead? I know how much you love talking."

Gabe shuffled closer and laid his head on Trist's chest again. "Yeah."

Trist combed his fingers through Gabe's hair, setting it back into order in a way his own hair would never allow for. "I have fooled around with other guys before. Not since before I moved up here and became a cynical, anti-social asshole, and I haven't done everything, but there were a few guys at my school who were gay or at least curious enough to have a bit of fun."

"I guess there are probably other gay guys at my school too. I mean, statistically speaking. Or maybe they all managed to convince their parents to send them somewhere else when they realised how toxic the culture there was."

"Why didn't you?"

"I just... I don't know. I have trouble trusting people to help me."

"Mm?"

"Sally would have. I'm sure of it. If I'd made it clear that some of the other guys were actually for real hurting me."

"She seems to care about you."

"She does. I know she does. But the one time I actually did try to talk to her about it, I wasn't clear. I made it sound like it was just people occasionally calling me names. She was sympathetic, but that'll happen anywhere and there's not much you can do about it, right? And Adam was having some major problems and she had a lot to deal with at the time so I just... let it go. And I never brought it up again."

Trist brushed Gabe's hair away from his face. "You matter. You know that, right?"

"I guess? Yeah. I think it's just... You remember what I told you about my mum?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"Well, her mental health was garbage. I mean I guess that's why she— well, yeah. But before that, for as long as I can remember, which isn't very long because I was like five when she died, she wasn't really taking care of me. Like, at all. She didn't make food for me, she didn't wash me or help me brush my teeth, she sure as hell didn't tuck me in or read me bedtime stories. And I had no idea those were things that were supposed to be happening. I thought, at five, I was just old enough to take care of myself. So when I moved in with Sally I kept doing that in a lot of ways, and with Adam being so much work it was just easier to let me most of the time.."

"My dad never tucked me in or read me a bedtime story. Is that a real thing parents do?"

"Sally did, when we were little. It was nice."

"He did cook for us at least, but it was always extremely healthy but gross stuff. Like liver. And if you made a fuss you could stand in the corner for an hour and then eat it cold."

"He was strict?"

"Yeah, in his way. I mean, he never hit us and he didn't even really raise his voice. But we knew not to cross him. He just had a scary vibe about him because it always felt like, you know, this isn't a man who loves me. If I'm too annoying or don't do good enough at school or whatever, he won't want me anymore. And I guess I was right because it turns out being gay was a deal breaker for him."

"I'm sorry. He doesn't deserve you."

"It's fine. I'm pretty sure he and my brother are both way more unhappy than I am right now. Not that I even really want them to be unhappy, but I don't know. I guess it makes it easier to let go of the anger."

"I think my dad tries," Gabe says. "I mean, tries to do what exactly I'm never quite sure, but I think he wants to protect me in his own way. I don't even really know if he loves me or not. I almost feel like not applicable is a more accurate answer to that question than yes or no. It's not like he knows me."

"Do I know you?"

"I don't know, I guess? Yeah, pretty well at this point."

"Mm. Okay."

"Why?"

"No reason."