Mew should have had a better plan. Preferably one that didn't include ambushing Korn out of the blue. He might not have agreed with what Korn was saying when he was saying it, but he hadn't reacted. He hadn't said anything to indicate how he felt. That's what he wanted to tell Korn now. Tell him that he disagreed—vehemently.
But he probably should have called first.
At least then he would have known for sure if Korn was home. Mew was standing outside Korn's door wondering if it was late to do something about it. He could go back to his car and call from there. Wait until he saw Korn come home (or leave home?) or something to assure him that he hadn't made a wasted trip.
There was no way to backtrack without looking strange. He'd bumped into people walking up the stairs. He'd greeted the guard at the gate with the familiarity of someone who knew what he was doing; where he was going. Mew had to keep pressing forward. If he faked it long enough, maybe it would pay off.
Mew knocked tentatively and waited. Realizing that wasn't how he wanted to proceed, he knocked again; louder. He was shocked when the door opened before he was done rapping his knuckles against the door for the third time.
Korn was home—on a Saturday afternoon.
"Hello, Korn."
"What are you doing here?" Korn asks looking up and down the hallway like he was expecting someone else to explain what he was seeing.
Not the auspicious start Mew had hoped for. But on the bright side, Korn was in shorts and a t-shirt and he was eating pizza. He didn't look like someone with plans to be anywhere else. Other than the initial surprise, he didn't look upset that Mew was there. His feelings were more obvious when he moved aside to let Mew into his apartment.
"I thought you were the delivery guy," Korn said by way of an explanation.
It didn't explain much to Mew. Was he or wasn't he upset that he'd shown up without warning? Then Mew looked around. There was an open pizza box on the coffee table with a missing slice. Presumably, the one Korn had scoffed down as he answered the door.
"What were you getting if you already have that?" Mew pointed out.
"Soda," Korn said sitting down in front of the box, "You want some?"
"Uhmm...yeah?" The conversation wasn't going the way he thought but there was nothing wrong with Korn being friendly. If they could manage to be civil to each other, that would be a great way to find footing for the argument he'd prepared. He situated himself next to Korn and picked up a slice, "I haven't eaten yet."
He didn't realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite. Korn was of the same mind and they didn't speak again until they had both finished off a couple of slices each. They might have continued if the soda delivery hadn't interrupted them, forcing them to slow down.
"What brings you here?" Korn finally asked.
Mew had convinced himself he was ready for this conversation. But when it finally came down to it, it took him a minute to order his thoughts.
"I don't understand what you're doing," he finally said.
"What do you mean?"
"Why would you tell me I deserve better?" He asked, hoping he wasn't making things unclear with his ambiguity.
He wanted this conversation to be one that helped them not one that made things more complicated. The trouble was, he could remember the last conversation he'd had with Korn about this very thing. It hadn't gone very well. But the circumstances were different. Korn was no longer with Knock and Mew wasn't about to run into the arms of the first guy who paid him any mind.
Everything ounce of common sense in him was telling him to stop wasting his time. But he'd learnt some valuable lessons. Nothing happened if he didn't try, regret could consume a human being from the inside out without leaving a mark and Mew knew Korn would tell him to get lost if he really didn't want anything to do with him.
Telling him he deserved better was a cop-out. But a cop-out of what?
That's what he wanted to find out.
~
Korn was torn between feeling ambushed and feeling grateful. Mew showing up unannounced wasn't on his list of possibilities. Yet, once he was standing right in front of him, Korn was glad he didn't have to be alone.
These and a thousand other thoughts were rushing through his head. They were all stopped in their tracks when he noticed the silver medallion dangling from the chain around Mew's neck. He was trying not to let that small thing hook into his heart. It brought back a rush of memories—good and bad—shaking him.
Korn could remember giving Mew the medallion as a gift. The thank-you that had followed had cemented their growing feelings and what they had meant to each other. Later, when they'd met again, seeing it had proven it still had that power over him.
He'd been able to walk away only because of Knock. Their past had seemed like a long time ago. Yet here they were, together again. And Knock had moved on.
Korn knew he was vulnerable. It was not the time to have a case of transference. But the medallion made it easy to remember that they'd had some good times. They weren't that far in the past that he couldn't remember the ease of sleeping next to Mew and having it mean nothing more than the need to rest. (Not when he'd reaffirmed the memory so recently despite his every intention not to.)
"Why wouldn't I deserve someone like you?" Mew asked him pulling him out of his thoughts.
Korn wasn't sure how to answer that question. His perspective had shifted enough that he wasn't sure where he stood. It still made sense. Mew could—and would—find someone who loved him wholeheartedly. But there were consequences of that and Korn was only beginning to understand what they might feel like.
"Are you telling me that you can't love me wholeheartedly or that you aren't willing to try? Those aren't the same thing," he said calmly.
Korn was tempted to throw his hands up in the air in defeat. "We've already fucked up twice."
"Then we can finally get it right the third time," Mew said flippantly.
"Third time lucky?" He said with a wry smile.
"Something like that. But this is about more than taking a chance. If you don't want it, it doesn't matter what I do. You'll find a reason to walk away," he said and Korn couldn't fault his logic. "I think that has more to do with how you see yourself. The poison you've been feeding yourself over what happened in the last year.
"That doesn't have anything to do with who we are to each other right now, who we were in the past or what we can be in the future."
There was a heavy silence around them as Korn absorbed what Mew had said. Korn hadn't believed his feelings of shame and guilt could get the better of him. He didn't think he would behave so badly because of it. But he'd failed at the one thing he'd been so sure he could never fuck up; how could he succeed when he wasn't even sure of what he felt for Mew?
"I thought I was stronger," Korn said softly.
He didn't have to speak any louder. Mew turned to face him, staying just out of reach but giving him all his attention.
"I thought I would never be tempted or even look at someone else. I remember being so mad at you and thinking I would never put someone through that, no matter how much I hated them. But I went and did it anyway—to someone I loved. What does that say about me?"
"It says you're imperfect..."
"That isn't exactly a good thing. It just means I can't be trusted."
"It means you made a mistake. And I hope you learned from it."
"I don't know if I did."
Korn didn't know why he was telling Mew all this. It wasn't the kind of information he wanted anyone to have, no matter their relationship status. He needed Mew to understand that he was a bad deal and he could bet on something a little surer. Mew was being pig-headed and Korn couldn't bring himself to tell him to stop.
Maybe his mind had finally fractured under the strain of too many conflicting desires.
"Do you remember how it was in high school?" Mew asked completely overriding Korn's thought process.
"Yeah?" Not sure where the line of questioning was going. Korn didn't want to remember but he still asked, "When you told me you couldn't see me anymore?"
"Yeah."
Mew looked away, embarrassed for a moment, then turned to look straight at Korn with squared shoulders and his chin tilted upwards. His deep sigh came just before he continued.
"I was drowning. I was struggling to make sense of everything happening to me and I was doing a shitty job. I thought if I removed every distraction, everything that wasn't necessary, I would finally be able to figure things out and get my head above water. Do you know what happened?"
Korn tried to remember but the only recollection he had was of how miserable he'd been. How hurt and confused he'd felt even though he hadn't been able to give Mew everything he asked for. "I don't remember."
"I drowned!" He said blankly. "I pushed you away thinking I had to do it alone, when the truth is, you weren't the problem. You were the solution."
"I don't understand."
"I should have trusted you with my problems. I should have allowed you to help."
"We weren't very good at talking," Korn said offhand.
"You aren't that much better now," Mew said and Korn got the sense he was laughing at him.
"Huh!?"
"You do a lot of your communicating in bed."
That last bit was new. He'd never heard that said of him before. Perhaps it was a truth nobody had ever acknowledged. Nobody had ever suggested it could define him.
Knock had never grown accustomed to his displays of affection, truncating his vocabulary. P'Pete had played on his need for that kind of physical connection and pretended to listen in a way Korn found irresistible. He didn't even have to think of what his relationship with Mew said about him.
"It doesn't absolve me from what I did?"
"Is that what you're looking for? The only person who can give you the kind of forgiveness you want is Knock."
He had that. Or the closest thing he would ever get to it.
What was holding him back?
"I still think you deserve to be happy. Find someone who will make you feel safe even when I couldn't."
"That's what you don't seem to understand; I'm happy now," Mew said turning Korn's face towards him and as much as Korn wanted to turn away, he didn't. "I didn't think this was even remotely possible but now that I'm here, I don't want to be anywhere else."
Korn didn't know why that statement seared a path right through him. There was a time when Mew had said the exact opposite. That he couldn't be with Korn no matter what. Perhaps this wasn't about his personal doubts. Maybe it was his doubts about Mew clouding his judgement and keeping him from crossing the barrier he'd erected to protect himself into whatever lay beyond it.
It still wasn't easy. Not when he'd been wrong about so many things. There had been so many revelations and each of them changed the landscape around him enough that his sense of certainty was now as flimsy as wet tissue paper.
It was as though Mew could read his mind because let go of him and shifted in his seat, "Let's just make a plan. Date. Hang out. Get to know each other again—without sex getting in the way."
Was he saying that because he thought it was what Korn wanted or because it was what he wanted? Korn had to admit it didn't matter. They had spent an inordinate amount of time in bed together and it hadn't amounted to much. Maybe Mew was on to something. If he couldn't talk with his body, he might finally learn to use his words.
"Let's give it a try. What's the worst that could happen?"
"You can't jinx us like that," Korn said with a flick to Mew's head.
"That would imply there was something to jinx."
Korn was sceptical but he didn't have any more reasons or excuses. "If I say yes, how is this even going to work? It's not like our schedules are the easiest to work around."
"I just want us to try."
"To try...huh!?
"Yeah..."
"Okay. Let's try."