"Scream at the sky but no sound, is leavin' my lips
It's like I can't even feel, after the way you touched me
I'm not asleep but I'm not awake, after the way you loved me
I can't turn this around, I keep running into walls
I can't break down."
= Sleepwalker, ADAM LAMBERT
The pack landed with a heavy thump in the back of the pickup as Nate jerked it off his shoulders and threw it over the wall of the bed. On the passenger side of the truck, Kyle slowly removed his pack and Nate could feel his eyes on him. He refused to look at the guy. At all.
Dragging off his thick jacket, Nate stuff it behind the back of the bench seat in the cab of the pickup then climbed in behind the wheel. He dug out his keys and rammed the ignition key in so hard he half expected it to snap off. A slow, throbbing ache crawled up his forearms as he gripped the steering wheel until the skin of his knuckles began to whiten. Another ache coiled in the crook of his jaw and slithered up through his cheekbones, into his temples and upward to settle in the front of his skull. He tried to breathe, sucked at the brittle morning air, but his lungs labored to draw it in, causing his chest to squeeze until it seemed it would cave in and crush his heart.
Kyle's pack thunked in the back of the truck then the passenger door opened. Nate's fingers tightened around the steering wheel as the guy climbed up on the seat and closed his door. The weight of Kyle's stare was a pressure pushing on him, nearly crumpling him against the driver door. His face crystallized and a cold heat rushed up through his face, prickling his hair line.
Fuck! He cranked the key hard. The engine growled and refused to turn over. "Fucker!" He hissed between clenched teeth. He cranked the key again and stomped on the gas, but the pickup simply growled at him again then died. Nate slammed his fists against the steering wheel "Motherfucker!"
"It's just cold." Kyle spoke suddenly, quiet. "If you keep stomping on the gas, you're just gonna flood it."
"Did I ask you?" Nate snapped viciously, still refusing to look at him.
"I'm just saying..."
"Well don't." Nate bit tightly. "Just keep your fucking mouth shut for once in your life."
What Kyle said about the truck was right, and it just pissed Nate off even more. He worked with the truck rather than against it, and it finally caught and started. He nursed the gas pedal until the engine warmed up a bit, then switched on the defrost and waited for the ice and snow to begin to slid down the windshield. He twisted the wipers knob and they stuck for a moment, then broke through the snow packed down on top of them. Nate clenched his teeth and watched the wipers shove the melting snow to the edges of the windshield.
He stomped on the clutch and dropped the truck into gear, being careful to switch from clutch to gas so the truck wouldn't stall, then turned it around and pulled out onto the gravel road. The tension clutching his body and mind urged him to grind the gas pedal into the floor and get them the fuck off the mountain as fast as possible, But he wouldn't take the chance of sending them over a cliff just because he was pissed off at Kyle.
Or maybe he was really pissed at himself – for being so fucking gullible. He'd known Kyle was keeping something from him, not telling him the truth about what was going on. And still he let himself get sucked in.
Literally.
He groaned inwardly at the unbidden thought that sent images from the previous night snapping through his head. His body responded instantly and the crotch of his jeans tightened. What the fuck is wrong with you? He screamed silently. The bastard used you and you still want to fuck him?!
Nate grew more pissed off and squeezed the steering wheel harder. His lips were a thin, hard line etched across his mouth. The muscles in his face flexed and popped as his eyes began to sting then burn. He blinked quickly and forced back the unwelcome, annoying tears. Fuck it if he'd let the little prick see how much his little stunt was ripping him apart.
"I'm sorry." Kyle's sudden apology made Nate jump a little. "About last night."
Nate's tight brow hardened and furrowed. He was sorry? Was he fucking serious?
Ignoring him, refusing to acknowledge his incredulous apology, Nate stared straight ahead. He had nothing to say to the man. What was Kyle expecting him to say? Oh no big deal, it was fun while it lasted. Fuck him. Fuck Him!
"I don't know what I did." Kyle added quietly. "But as pissed as you are...I must've been a major dick. I shouldn't have started drinking. That shit fucks me up royally."
Did he really expect Nate to buy this bullshit? If the guy really hadn't remembered...he'd have been asking why he was naked when he woke up. The Kyle he knew would've ribbed him mercilessly, insinuating Nate had molested him during his drunken stupor, needled him about grabbing a piece of ass while Kyle was 'vulnerable'. But this? This wasn't the old Kyle.
"Shut up." The words ground like gravel in Nate's teeth as he spit them at Kyle.
"Look, I said I was sorry." Kyle's voice strained. "What else am I supposed to say? Just tell me and I'll say it."
The corners of Nate's jaw tightened and squeezed. His throat began to knot up and close, the burning in his eyes swelling into a sheen of tears. "You can shut up. How about that?"
"Nate, man...I fucked up. I get it. I'm sorry-"
The truck slid to a sudden stop as Nate's foot stomped down hard on the break pedal, its ass end skidding sideways on the loose gravel. Kyle jerked forward, his hand snapping out on reflex, catching the dash. His fingertips dug into the vinyl as he looked at Nate, startled.
"What the fuck-"
"I'm not an idiot, Kyle!" Nate fumed, clenching the steering wheel so hard his arms ached. "Don't play me for a fucking fool!"
"Nate, what the hell are you-"
"Save it!" Nate was nearly screaming, his chest heaving. "Shut your fucking mouth or I swear to God I'll shut it for you!"
"Nate-"
A strangled cry burst out of Nate's throat as he lunged across the seat, grabbed the front of Kyle's jacket and slammed him against the passenger door. "I said shut the fuck up! Are you fucking deaf? Or just fucking stupid?"
His face hovered close to Kyle's, his eyes burning so hot he half expected Kyle's cheeks to blister. The guy's face swam before him as his jaw clenched and his teeth bared. Steaming breath hissed out his nostrils and between his teeth. Kyle's hazel eyes widened in shock. And in those eyes...Nate saw the truth.
Kyle remembered. He remembered everything. Every...fucking...detail.
"I want you gone." Nate whispered coldly. "When we get back, pack your shit, go to a hotel, somewhere. I don't care. " He jerked back suddenly, releasing Kyle's jacket and turning his face away. "Got to hell for all I care, just get the fuck out of my house." The knot in his throat was choking him as the tears filled up his eyes. "Get the fuck out of my life."
He shifted the truck into gear and stomped on the gas, driving faster than he should. But he couldn't be here with Kyle any longer, in such close quarters. He needed away from the man.
Kyle turned towards the passenger door and pressed his brow against the chilled window. His uneven breaths cut at Nate but he refused to take his words back. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kyle wipe at his eyes then bury his face in his arm against the door. The road in front of the truck swam and blurred, then the burning tears were streaking his face.
Why the fuck did Kyle do this to him? To them? Why hadn't he just told him the truth, instead of pulling this bullshit?
The answers didn't matter now. It was done. Over.
You wanted to end 'us'? Well, you got your wish.
His hand shaking, Nate swiped at his eyes, but the tears seemed an endless well. A sob swelled in his chest and he forced it down. He refused to break. Not here, not in front of Kyle.
* * *
The house was cold. Foreboding. It felt like a tomb as Nate unlocked the front door and stepped inside, carrying his pack. He threw the pack on the floor in the entry hall then walked down to the kitchen doorway.
Kyle entered the house slowly and set his pack down next to Nate's. He said nothing as Nate nodded towards the kitchen wall phone without looking at him. "There's the phone." His voice was brittle, cutting. "Call the hotel. Then call a cab."
His steps long and quick, Nate walked down the hall to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him. As soon as Kyle was out of sight, locked outside his room, Nate began to shake. The sobs he'd been suppressing during the drive home broke loose and erupted out of him. He went to his dresser, grabbed some clean clothes then went into the adjoining bathroom and turned on the shower.
He removed his clothes with trembling hands, tears rolling down his face and dripping off his chin, splattering against the tiled floor. He stepped beneath the hot spray and grabbed a bar of soap, scrubbing his body frantically as he began to choke on the sobs lodging in his throat. He could still smell Kyle on him and he needed that scent gone. He didn't want anything left behind to remind him of last night.
Please tell me you love me, Nate...I need to hear you say it out loud.
A strangled cry wrenched out of him and he smacked the tiled wall hard with his palm, pressing his forehead against the wet acrylic, crying openly. "Fuck." he choked out, coughing, trying to swallow his tears. "Fuck!"
The strength went out of him and he sank to his knees in the corner of the shower, his body shaking under the force of his sobs. He squeezed his eyes shut and shoved his head hard against the shower wall. "Damn you, Kyle." he cried thickly, choking on his cries. "God damn you!"
His fingers raked up through his wet hair then his arms slid up over his head as he tucked his chin to his chest, pulling his knees up. He hadn't known it was possible for a human being to hurt this much and still keep breathing...even if every breath was like swallowing flames, ingesting fire. His chest burned, and hurt, and squeezed so tight he could barely suck in a breath.
"God!" He cried against his arms. Please just kill me! It hurts so fucking bad!
Somehow his heart kept beating, though it had developed an erratic hitch and each beat was like the blade of a knife sliding deeper and deeper into his flesh. It hurt to think and he tried to turn his mind off, but couldn't find the switch. And the longer it remained on, the harder it became to hold the memory of last night at bay.
Kyle's touches, his kisses, the skillful way he brought Nate to the edge of insanity then rescued him at the last minute, the passion and ecstasy...how he held Nate afterwards, as if he couldn't bear to let him go.
Another wailing cry ripped out of Nate's throat. He clawed his hair, squeezing fistfuls, wrenching it, feeling the pain in his scalp and welcoming it; anything to distract his thoughts from the heaven Kyle carried him through – only to cast him into hell beneath.
A sudden bout of nausea hit him full force. He scrambled out of the shower and dropped to his knees hard before the toilet, vomiting into the bowl. He puked until there was nothing left, then began to dry heave, his stomach clenching and tearing him apart inside. His sobs mingled with his retching and tears poured down his face, dripping free and splashing into the stinking mess in the toilet bowl.
He forced his stomach to calm, resisting the urge to heave, then flushed the toilet and grabbed a wad of toilet tissue, wiping his mouth. He sat back hard against the shower door and hugged his aching stomach.
"I wish you'd never come here, Kyle." His voice was ragged and his throat burned. "Why didn't you just stay the fuck away?"
By the time he crawled to his feet and stepped back in the shower, the water was cold. Still he let it rush down over him, cooling his fevered mind as well as his fevered body.
He left the shower, dressed and walked to the bedroom door. His hand hesitated, gripping the door handle. Had Kyle left yet? Had enough time passed for a cab to get here? He didn't want to face Kyle, didn't want to speak to him. As pissed as he was, Nate wasn't so stupid as to think he would be unaffected by anything Kyle said. In truth, he was probably more vulnerable than he'd ever been, a part of him wanting to beg Kyle for a reasonable explanation that could somehow salvage their friendship...everything.
But he wouldn't go begging. And he didn't wish to listen to any lame-ass excuses. Kyle had deceived him for his own selfish purposes. He had betrayed their friendship...and Nate's trust. Because, God knows, he would've never expected this of Kyle. Would have bet his life on Kyle's loyalty to him.
His hand started to withdraw from the door, then his jaw tightened with determination and anger. He'd be damned if he would hide out in his own house like some kind of fucking coward afraid of his own shadow.
He jerked the door open and stepped out into the hall.
* * *
The first thing he registered was Kyle's black sports bag sitting on the floor against the wall just outside the living room doorway. He was still here. Suddenly Nate didn't feel so brave as his determination from a moment ago began to wane and waver. Maybe he should have just stayed in the bedroom till the guy left.
First you just serve yourself up to him, and now you want to run away crying like a little girl? Grow a fucking pair already!
Nate's fists flexed at his sides. He approached the living room doorway slowly, quietly. Kyle stood by the brick fireplace, his elbows resting on the mahogany mantle as he stared at the framed photos propped up in a line. There were only a few, and most of them of Kyle and Nate. Kyle picked up one of the photos. He didn't have to see it up close for Nate to know which one it was. It had always been his favorite; taken just last year when he'd dragged Kyle on white water rafting trip. In the photo, they had just made it down the river. Nate had been razzing Kyle because he hadn't taken it so well, freaking out on the rough parts of the river. They had gotten into a wrestling match then broke apart, laughing. Kyle had grabbed his camera, slung his arm around Nate's shoulder and held the camera out at arm's length and took the picture.
The tears were coursing down his face before Nate was even aware of them. He had been so fucking in love with Kyle at that moment. It had never crossed his mind then that in just a little over a year...their friendship would be in ashes.
Licking his lips and swallowing hard past the knot in his throat, Nate wiped quickly at his face. Kyle held the picture in one hand and traced Nate's face with his fingertips. Nate closed his eyes and shook his head.
Don't pretend like you fucking care, Kyle. Don't you dare.
The pain coiled around Nate's heart and squeezed hard, unrelenting. His only defense was getting pissed and staying pissed. If he let the anger go...that pain would take over full force. And he wasn't ready to deal with that. Wasn't able to deal with it yet.
He cleared his throat, and Kyle turned then replaced the photo on the mantle. "I was just..." A smile tried to claim Kyle's lips but they pressed together instead as his throat worked rapidly. "I was just remembering that trip." He looked at Nate with so much hurt in his eyes that Nate wanted to scream. "I nearly shit my pants." A short, strained laugh fell from his lips. "I thought for sure we were gonna eat it on that river." His facial muscles flexed as he struggled with his emotions. "It was a fucking blast."
Nate just stared at him. The room blurred, but he knew if he blinked, the tears would spill over rather than recede. "I told you to call a cab." Nate forced the thick, tight words up his throat.
Kyle licked his lips then pinched them together. His eyes were glassy as he gazed at Nate. "I did." he whispered unsteadily. "It's on the way." He swallowed hard then went to the sofa and sat down.
Turning quickly from the doorway, Nate returned to his room, sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on his boots. His jaw clenched until his head began to throb. How dare that little shit act as if he was hurting too? Was Nate supposed to feel sorry for him? Really?
After tying up the laces, Nate rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. "Fuck." he choked on a sob then swallowed through a tight throat. He squeezed his hair in his fists again and once more felt the ripping pain in his scalp.
I fucking loved you so much.
How could you do this to me?
How?!