Bruises
The cab ride back the apartment felt like it took hours, even though it was only a matter of minutes. They could have walked it had they been in any better condition. Zac couldn’t possible think of a worse condition right then.
He kept a safe distance from Taylor, letting him walk on ahead of him to the apartment. Zac did not know what to say or do now that his fears had been confirmed. Yet, he knew he had no right to feel the way he did. He couldn’t let Taylor see his anger or his jealousy. He couldn’t show that weakness. If there were any hope left of getting back any semblance of the relationship they had had before… he couldn’t let any of those feelings show.
It was all so much easier said than done.
As he walked up the stairs behind Taylor, it was like walking onto a rocking boat. He could feel every motion all the way through his body and he thought he might be sick. Deep down, he knew it was more because of what had happened than because of the alcohol he had consumed; he had only had a few shots and didn’t even feel drunk anymore, not really.
Once inside the apartment, Taylor went straight for the coffee pot. Zac stood in the doorway and watched him for a moment, wishing the right thing to say would magically come to him. When he accepted that it wouldn’t, he said the only thing that came to mind.
“You’ll be up all night if you drink that.”
“I really doubt that,” Taylor replied. “But in spite of how nice it would be to still be drunk while you and I fight about this, it’s probably best if I’m sober. So—coffee, it is.”
Zac wanted to say something else, but before any words would form, Taylor spun and stared at him. There was a curious look on his face, but before Zac could interpret that, Taylor ran from the kitchen… straight to the bathroom.
Zac winced, but followed after him, knowing it was the right thing to do.
When he arrived, Taylor was already face first in the toilet, his entire body shaking as it expelled all the alcohol he’d had to drink that night—apparently, it was more than Zac had had or his tolerance was lower. Zac was inclined to suspect the former, but it wasn’t the time to judge him for that.
Instead, he just grabbed a washcloth from the linen closet and ran it under the faucet, saturating it with ice cold water. He sat down on the edge of the tub and brushed Taylor’s hair back. Carefully, he positioned the washcloth so that it covered the bruise as well as—he hoped—soothing Taylor’s forehead. It was a hangover, not a fever, but Zac knew that hurling that violently would leave a person feeling like shit no matter what the cause.
As he waited patiently for Taylor to finish, he was reminded of a time when they were in almost the same position, but in reverse. He had come home from a field trip in the fifth grade with a stomach bug; it had spread through the students on the trip so fast that the bus trip home was miserable, the driver refusing to stop in spite of all the students’ protests. Zac got a particularly bad case of it, and barely left the bathroom for the entire weekend. Taylor was by his side the whole time, keeping him stocked up on saltines and ginger ale when he felt like eating, and otherwise sitting in the tub reading The Outsiders to him loudly enough to drown out the horrible sounds coming out of his own body.
When Taylor finally sat back, still panting but not as shaky, Zac offered him a weak smile. He wondered if Taylor was recalling the same memory as him. Somehow, he had a feeling that Taylor wasn’t—those moments of nurturing were so numerous and natural to him that they probably didn’t seem like anything special. But they were special to Zac.
“I’m going to get in the shower,” Taylor said, his voice hoarse and weak. He nudged the washcloth away. “I need to wash… all of this… off.”
Zac nodded. “Do you think you’ll still want that coffee when you’re done?”
“I think I’ll still need it, and that’s close enough.” Taylor smiled weakly, but it looked more painful than anything else.
“Okay,” Zac said. “I’ll start the pot. Yell or make some noise or something if you need me.”
Taylor nodded, then braced himself as though the motion might set off another round. When it seemed he was in the clear, he gave Zac another small smile.
Zac returned the smile, then pulled himself from his perch on the side of the tub and walked out of the room. A part of him didn’t want to leave Taylor alone right then, but he also knew that it was important to do whatever Taylor asked of him. He could not push their limits, not right then. Not when Taylor was so fragile.
And why was he so fragile, anyway?
Zac still did not understand what had happened or who had been responsible. Even when they were in high school, even when the rumors about Taylor started to spread… he seemed impervious. Zac knew it was practically a miracle that Taylor never faced any violence or harm because of his sexuality. How could he have come so far, become so comfortable and proud in his own skin, only for someone to mar that beautiful surface with their hands?
The more he thought about it, the more his anger grew. Zac knew that was no good; he focused on finding something to do with his hands, something productive to channel that anger in to. He turned on the coffee pot, then searched through their cabinets in search of saltine crackers. He finally located half a sleeve and taste tested one just to be sure they weren’t stale. He couldn’t remember purchasing them, but to his pleasant surprise, they were still crisp. While he waited for the coffee to percolate, he dug through the freezer. No frozen peas and no steaks; a bag of frozen teriyaki rice would have to do. At least it was cold, frozen into a hard lump.
Just as the coffee finished brewing, Zac heard the shower turn off. He filled a cup and sat it on the table next to the crackers at the seat Taylor seemed to have claimed as his own. He pulled his own chair a few inches closer, and waited.
A few moments later, Taylor walked into the room. His hair was still damp and he wore what Zac was sure were his own boxers and t-shirt. With his makeup rinsed off, the bruise was even more noticeable, already blooming into a deep blue-ish purple. At least the split in his lip didn’t look so bad with the blood rinsed off.
“Thank you,” Taylor said softly, his voice nearly above a whisper as he carefully sat down in the chair.
“You’re welcome,” Zac replied, pulling his chair closer. He picked up the bag of rice and held it out dubiously. “You want to do this or do you want me to?”
“I’m not really hungry,” Taylor murmured, and it took Zac a moment to realize it was a joke.
The split lip made Taylor’s smirk look almost dangerous, and Zac found himself weirdly attracted to it. He tried to push those feelings aside as he inched the bag closer to Taylor’s face.
“Seriously, I don’t want to hurt you even worse. So if you want to do this instead, be my guest.”
“You’ll do fine,” Taylor replied. “I trust you.”
Those three words meant more to Zac than he knew how to express. His hand shook as he raised it the rest of the way to Taylor’s face. He placed the right on Taylor’s neck, half to steady Taylor and half to steady himself. Taylor only winced slightly when the bag came into contact with his skin, a hissing sound almost akin to a whistle leaving his mouth.
“Is that okay?” Zac asked.
“No,” Taylor managed to say, “but that’s fine. I don’t think it’s supposed to feel good—not at first, anyway.”
“That’s what she said?”
Zac bit his lip as soon as he said it, bracing himself for Taylor to be completely unamused that he could make a joke in such a moment. Instead, Taylor laughed loudly, nearly knocking the stupid bag of rice off his face entirely. Zac struggled to hold it steady as his own body was rocked by infectious laughter.
“You are terrible,” Taylor finally managed to say.
“I know,” Zac replied.
“But I love you anyway, do you know that?”
Zac stared blankly. He wanted Taylor to clarify in which way that he meant. He did not. But his eyes said it all. Zac nodded. “I love you, too.”
“And I’m really sorry,” Taylor said. “I know I said that the other day, but I mean it. I really do mean it. This has been—so difficult. But I know it is for you too and it’s not fair for me to act like I’m suffering so much when you are, too.”
“Someone tried to beat you up tonight, Taylor. I don’t know what you consider suffering, but I think you’re allowed to feel a little sorry for yourself right now.”
Taylor rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I brought this on myself.”
Zac eyed him. He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t find the words. If Taylor wanted him to know the full truth of what had happened, Taylor would tell him. He had to trust that. He had to trust that Taylor had his reasons for still hiding it. Appearing petty and jealous would not do either of them any good right then.
“I don’t know why you still put up with me,” Taylor said, wincing a little as Zac shifted the bag of rice. “Sorry, I know. Feeling sorry for myself again.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Zac said plainly.
Taylor pulled back, brushing his hand aside. “That’s awful. Why would you say that?”
“No,” Zac said, shaking his head. “It’s not. It’s wonderful. I said I love you, and I mean it. I love you; you’re a part of me. In every way. I put up with you because of that. Because I haven’t been fully me since I lost you, and I won’t be fully me if I lose you again. I know I suggested the break, but I haven’t been me since I did. I need you back, Taylor.”
“I need you, too,” Taylor replied, a few small tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He forced a smirk and motioned toward his face. “Clearly I’m a mess without you. I may be the older brother, but I think you’re the one holding me together now, not the other way around.”
Zac shook his head again. “We’re holding each other together. That’s the point.”
“When did you get to be so smart?” Taylor asked, nudging the bag of rice out of Zac’s hand and entwining their fingers. “And how did I get so lucky to have you in my life?”
“I can’t answer that.” Zac shrugged. “I mean—I think the answer to the second question is genetics, but that’s probably not what you want to hear.”
Taylor let out a hoarse laugh. “Well, it may not sound right, but I guess it is true. And in a way, it just proves what I mean. We were both lucky. We may have lost each other for a while, but—the right person was there all along. From the start. Some people look forever and don’t find what we had… naturally.”
“You’re way too smart for this late and… everything else that happened tonight,” Zac said. He picked up the bag of rice. “Let’s try to some sleep, okay?”
“Will you tuck me in?” Taylor teased.
Zac rolled his eyes. “You know I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”
“I know,” Taylor replied. “And I promise I’ll try not to ask too much.”
“You know I would do it anyway. But… I promise you the same.”
Zac wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he knew it was true.
He slowly pulled his hand from Taylor’s and stood. The rice was expired anyway, so he tossed it into the trash. He left Taylor at the table, sipping his coffee, and headed to the bathroom, where he picked up Taylor’s discarded clothes and dumped them in the laundry basket, being sure to remove his wallet, keys and cell phone first.
By the time he made it to the bedroom and stripped out of his own clothes, he felt Taylor’s eyes on him. He spun around and gave him a genuine smile, which Taylor returned. No hesitance, no other emotions lurking beneath the surface.
Zac didn’t want to jinx anything, but he thought that somehow, they might be okay after all.