I found a place where the past was forgiven
Where my mistakes met a grace I couldn’t earn
And so I piled up my excuses and defenses in the night
Then I lit a match, stepped back and watched them burn
There was no Jesus in my Sunday this week. Schuyler covering my mouth with his hand seemed to be the theme of the night, as at one point it was covering my nose too and I had my eyes squeezed shut, fingers cutting into my palm through the sheets, other broken hand held tight against my chest, head tucked down against his onslaught, his breath hot and ragged against my skull, his skin warm and hardly marked against my graphic novel of a body. We watched a movie (don't remember), devoured each other and then he took me out for breakfast. Always eggs Benedict and lots of fresh coffee and an amused smile over an-almost awkward (but not quite) breakfast. I spent the night pressed hard into his bed and he's making small talk over bacon. He fought himself so hard for control (Daniel is six-two, a hundred and sixty pounds and strong like a maniac) and maybe he's celebrating the victory. Maybe he regrets every minute. I don't know.
I had fun though. Not going to lie. And I'm not going to lie that I love the attention. I love having him all to myself. I love the way he looks at me, as if I am such a delicate creature that fascinates him. That's my kryptonite, always.
Lochlan came back with the first group. Dropped his gear in the driveway, came right to me. He had cell service before they hit the end of the forest road, on foot, and after making sure he hadn't got eaten by a bear on the trip I told him everything. He said we'd talk about it at home. That everything was okay, just sit tight and he would be home in four hours or so and here he is now, pulling me roughly up into his arms, holding me tight, his hand around the back of my head. A kiss and he looks into my eyes and I suddenly feel all the shame rushing in to block the sun but he shakes his head.
We'll talk about it. It's okay, Peanut.
I can tell from his voice that he's trying to talk himself into it but I'm also comforted by his lack of removal, his lack of anger. I don't do it to make him angry or to push him away. I do it because not I can't help it but because he told me I could.
I help him bring his stuff in. I can't take my eyes off him. Four days without Lochlan isn't fixed by one night with Schuyler, and I missed him so badly I was easily swayed into total destruction but he needs the strength of the army to soldier on and he needs to know he is not the bad guy or weak for letting me do the things I do. The other guys build him up, assuage the guilt and keep him moving forward. They remind him of what has been tried and what works and doesn't work and he keeps a perfect balance. I don't need to explain it. They will.
(To you, I mean. Dear reader you'll never understand the depth of most of this. Half the time I don't either. It's okay though, we're all okay.)
He's about to come back in for another long hug when we see we're not alone. Schuyler's in the door. He looks serious and grim and businesslike. He looks friendly, like the big brother Lochlan always thought he had in Caleb but never did. He crosses the room to welcome Lochlan back with a long embrace and he says it was him or Jake and he's not going to let Jake touch me if he can help it. That I'm safe. That Schuyler won't pass up some excitement but also isn't going to try and muscle in on what we have so he's not a threat. That he definitely prefers men because they are a lot stronger and he felt like he was holding a wounded bird the entire time.
You were. Lochlan gestures to my cast. But then he changes the subject and I leave as all the air is being sucked out of the room. I'm more than a lot annoyed that Schuyler's turning the whole thing into a sacrifice that he made for the greater good, as if he was put out by it or did it only as a favour when in reality at least I had the courage to explain myself without excuses. Makes me wonder if he lies to me or to Lochlan. Maybe I should ask but he's already vanished and Lochlan looks a million times more at peace with the whole discussion so I leave it. I'll kick it under the rug and the next time Schuyler comes over I'll trip him with it before pointing out that if given a choice I would pick Schuy over New Jake any day and if Schuy told me to stay put I fucking would so this whole excuse is bullshit.
It's ironic that the most dramatic boy on the point is also the least dramatic.