chapter twenty-two:
“Cael? Cael, please get up. God, I knew I should've brought the suit! Cael! Cael, please!” His eyes rolled aimlessly, he slowly moved. His throat burned and he coughed roughly. His chest was aching and his lips felt sore as if he was punched. “Breathe, thank god, breathe Cael.” He did as he was told, looking at who was bearing down on him.
“P. . . Pe. . . Peter?” He rasped. Peter was staring at him, his eyes wide, tears glistening in them.
It was the strangest thing, his tears. His face was red and blotchy and the tears made visible lines down his cheeks. Caelum felt his stomach twist. “I thought. . . your dad, I. . .” he didn't finish the sentence. More tears moved down his face.
“My dad?” He croaked. His throat hurt so bad, he could hardly breathe.
Peter sniffed, rubbing his face. “After you two left, it had been a while and. . . I was looking for you and I. . . I found you here and you weren't breathing. You dad was gone. I. . . God, Cael. . .” His arms were shaking and his lip trembled. Caelum felt a strange that Peter was crying on his behalf. He felt strange that Peter was crying at all. “I thought you were dead, Cael.”
Caelum blinked and rubbed his throat. He winced, feeling the bruising easily. Peter kept talking, as if speaking to Caelum was a reminder that he was alive. “I just. . . I remembered what Mr. Collins said in health class and. . . you weren't breathing. . .”
Caelum a minute to process this. He vaguely remembered being in Ms. Collins’ health class in seventh grade. He remembered taking it with Peter ― and how annoying the experience was. He kept getting them in trouble.
“I just. . . I pinched your nose and breathed and―” Peter gave a helpless laugh. Caelum wasn't listening anymore. He sat up, gaping at Peter, his mouth ― which explained why it was so fucking sore ― gaping.
It took him awhile to process it. Peter saved his life. Peter gave him mouth to mouth.
Peter ― somewhat inadvertently ― kissed him.
The words made Caelum's world turn and tremble. What does he do now? What was he supposed to do?
Thank him? For what, though? Saving his life? Kissing him?
This was weird. This was wrong. Caelum was thinking too much into this. This was Peter. This was Peter. Peter didn't. . . He wouldn't. . .
No. No. No. Nuh-huh. Nope.
It felt wrong to Caelum. Peter didn't know he loved him. Peter saved his life ― he kissed him ― and had no clue that Caelum was helplessly in love with Peter.
Caelum realized that he had been sleeping and would never know what Peter’s lips felt like. A small, dark part of him wanted to go up to his father and punch him so he would strangle him again. That way, Peter would have a reason to kiss him again.
That was stupid, he chided. Stupid and self-destructive. He wouldn't do that. It probably wasn't worth getting killed over. And for a stupid reason like a kiss.
“Cael?” Peter was calling him. He looked at him, his eyes settling on the boy’s pinkish-red lips that seemed to pop against the shade of his tanned skin. He wasn't exactly pale but he wasn't burnt either. He was a creamy colour, like white chocolate or sugar cookies.
Did his lips taste sweet?
“Cael?” He was spiraling again.
“Sorry―” he began to talk, but Peter raised a hand.
“No, don't speak, you'll hurt your throat even more. We gotta get you back to Sarah and Dorri’s. We can go upstairs, alright?”
Caelum gave a unconcerned nod, before realizing that Peter had wrapped Caelum’s arm over his shoulder, supporting both of their weights as he began to move.
“I can―” he began, but Peter cut him off.
“No talking!” He said sharply. “Not until you've had tea and a ice pack for your neck.” Caelum reluctantly agreed. He needed to sleep.
Caelum leaned into Peter ― he still smelled like shea butter lotion ― as the boy helped him back to the Café. Most of the visitors had said their goodbyes and left, but a few were still mingling. Peter and Caelum were able to slip in nearly completely unnoticed. Except, Sarah blocked them on their way to the steps.
“Where have you two been?” She demanded in her false-hickory accent. One of these days, Caelum was going to ask her where she was from.
“We were sitting down, then Cael's―ouch!” Caelum had pinched him and gave him an angry look. “Caelum was. . . jumped. They, ah, strangled him. He needs some serious tea and to lie down.”
“Oh, my god,” Sarah said, her eyes going wide at the lie. “I'll put on some tea and soup, alright ― I know you're a vegetarian, I'll make pea soup. Go upstairs.” Caelum wanted to protest, she didn't have to do all that, but Peter was already tugging him along, helping him up then stairs and unto the couch.
Caelum heard the boys sleeping in the guest bedroom ― it used to be his bedroom, but he's been on the couch for the past few days. They usually snored and Caelum moved from Peter to go check on them. He opened the handle and peeked inside. Sure enough, they were dozing, wrapped around each other like pretzels. Pollux was quietly sleeping, but Castor's mouth was open and loud snoring came from him.
Caelum smiled and closed the door again. Peter was pulling the pillows off the couch and setting up the futon. “You don't―” Caelum began to say, but Peter cut him off.
“Ah! Ah! Ah! No talking!” He said, sending a warning look his way, which Caelum assumed was supposed to mean that he meant business. “It's almost done.” He said, then set the pillows he took off on the backside so that they could lean on it. Then, he pulled a few blankets out and laid them across. “There!” He grinned at Caelum.
The grin full of sunshine. Caelum remembered what they had done that day, who they buried, who he said hello and goodbye to, who he fought with. Who had kissed and not-kissed him, and how he utterly scared, exhilarated, disappointed, and happy he was.
The grin of sunshine reminded him that it had been a dark day. It also reminded him that everything was going to be okay ― that it will get better.
Caelum loved that, and he loved the person who wore it even more.
He gave a small smile back ― he could never compete with the grin of sunshine, but he was making an effort. “We can watch TV?” Caelum shook his head. “Do you want to play a board game?” He thought for a minute, but nodded. “What game?” Caelum shrugged. “Do you know how to play Battleship?” Caelum rose an eyebrow, he vaguely recognized the name, but had no clue how to play.
Peter jumped to his feet, going to the closet. “Dorri and Sarah bought a bunch of board games for the Café, and they keep the best ones up here―ah!” The shout of alarm and the crash of game pieces being dropped made Caelum jump. “Sorry,” Peter said, sheepishly. “There was a spider. I got it.” Caelum shook his head, this boy. . .
Peter insisted on getting the pieces up himself, and he did. Then, he brought the game to the couch and began to set up. He handed Caelum what looked like gray lunch box.
He opened it and saw the designs inside. They there were miniature battleships with circles for pegs on it's top. On the sides were red and white pegs, which he assumed went in the holes on the top and the matching set on the bottom. The battleships were small and different sizes, some had six pegs and some had two.
“So this is how it works,” Peter began then he explained the game. Basically, he had to set up his ships in a particular fashion that Peter couldn't see. Then, when they were both ready, they would call out coordinates and see if they hit the ships or missed them. They used the top of the gray box to make notations so they knew where the opponent’s ships were and where they weren't. The player who sunk the enemies ships first won.
Caelum had half a mind not to possess Peter and see what his board was, but he was looking out for facial expressions. Peter made funny faces whenever Caelum suggested a point, and Caelum raised a thumbs up or thumbs down if he got it. Caelum wrote on a sheet of paper his guesses, A1-B3, D6-C4, and so on.
Eventually, Sarah came back donning a tray with a steaming tea, an ice pack, and a bowl of soup. Caelum took it, croaked out, “Thank you,” and sipped his tea.
Sarah smiled, “No problem sweetie! Dorri and I are just about to pack everything up, don't you worry. You two get some sleep ― Peter, it's getting dark, you want me to call May? You can stay the night if you like.”
Caelum pressed his lips shut. He'd end up getting no sleep if he spent the night, but a part of him seriously wanted Peter's company.
“I'll stay,” Peter said, smiling at Sarah. “Don't worry about Aunt May, I'll call her too.”
Sarah seemed pleased with this, she nodded, “Well, then y'all better wrap it up. Petey’s got school in the morning.” Sarah patted Caelum's knee before seeing herself out.
Caelum was quiet for a few moments, a bit stunned that Peter actually agreed to stay. Peter tapped his leg with his foot, “Your turn,” he said, bringing him out of his thoughts.
Caelum nodded, taking a sip of his tea as he scraggly wrote down his next coordinate. A4-E6.
“Damn it!” Peter snapped and Caelum grinned, successfully sinking his biggest ship. He only had a few left and Peter had only gotten two of his. “Where are your ships!?”
Caelum laughed, picking up the soup and sipping a spoonful. “Look,” he said and smiled. They finished about ten minutes later, Caelum won and Peter was salty about it. He demanded that they had a rematch, but Caelum declined, it was getting late and he was planning on going to work in the morning, if he could.
Peter frowned, pouting against the couch. He grabbed Caelum’s spoon and tried a bit of his soup. He nearly choked, watching him, “Germs!” Caelum snapped, grabbing the soup from him. It was still very hot and a bit of it splashed on his hand. He hissed in pain, managing to put the soup down before grabbing his burned hand, bringing it to his face.
“You have to run it under hot water,” Peter said, grabbing Caelum’s wrist. He quickly snatched it away, not allowing the warm fingers of the other boy to steal his hand. Peter was relentless, grabbing his hand again and dragging him off the couch.
Caelum put up a half-hearted fight before giving in, allowing his hand to be drenched in cold water ― something common in Dorri and Sarah’s home.
Caelum watched as Peter carefully twisted his wrist, making sure all of his hand was drenched in water, making sure he was fine. Peter’s wrist was almost scalding against his freezing skin, and he couldn’t help noticing it. Peter was still touching his hand ― he was still holding him in place. His eyebrows drawn, his mouth forming a steady frown, concentrated in serious thought. He was like a freshly created painting, ready to be hung, forever frozen in time to display his beauty.
Jesus, Caelum was such a romantic, wasn’t he?
Suddenly Peter spoke, breaking the illusion. “Hey, do you think shellfish and crabs experience things like a shell-depression when they can’t find any more shells? Like, nobody has any extra shells and suddenly they begin to hoard them and everyone is suffers?”
Caelum looked at the boy, then he scoffed, shaking his head. “What?” Peter asked and Caelum let out a small laugh.
“You're so silly,” he said, pushing his arm. His throat still hurt, but the tea helped a lot. Peter grinned and Caelum couldn't help staring at his pink-ish lips again. He could imagine himself leaning in and kissing him. It would be so easy, they were alone, and he was right there and. . .
Caelum looked away, taking his hand out of the water and rubbing it on his shirt. “We should go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”
“Cael? What's wrong?” Peter asked, scrunching up his adorable eyebrows and looking at him.
“Nothing,” he snapped, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. To be so near someone he loved, so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of him, and not be able to tell him he loved him. Or, really being afraid to. He couldn't love Peter, he was straight and Caelum was gay. Peter would never be able to love him. He only loved senior girls with big butts and fair skin and of the female sex.
This was ridiculous. He couldn't live like this.
Caelum stepped out of the bathroom and back onto the pullout couch. He grabbed the covers and pulled them over him, turning his head away from Peter so he wouldn't have to see him.
He felt the bed shift as Peter came in beside him. There was a silent minute. “Cael?” Peter spoke.
“Yes, Parker?” He wasn't in the mood for midnight conversations.
“Did I say something wrong?” The doubt in his voice made Caelum's heart ache.
He bit his lip and inhaled, “No, Parker. You. . . you were fine.”
The only mess was in his head, after all.