The silence was heavy in the small apartment but the voices were shouting at Trist. Val stood, as silent as reality, still clutching the book tightly in his hands. The expression on his face wasn’t one of pain or grief, or shock but a sick, twisted mix of them all coated over with stunned disbelief and raw acceptance. When he finally could move, he turned and set the book carefully down onto it’s proper stack.

The sound of the heavy, bound book settling gently on top of another solid book, made Trist flinch. He’d expected the book to sore through the air, smash into the wall. He expected Val to shout or curse or something. In his entire life, he’d never felt such coarse and raw emotions that some how managed to simply redirect and disappear before reaching the surface. Trist knew his eyes had grown wide as he watched the purely internal train wreck of Val’s heart.

“Well,” He started softly, oddly afraid if he spoke at a normal tone that Val would just snap. “It might be for the best. She’s going to get an awful case of crabs from some dude named Javier.”

Val held his hand up and he swallowed a couple of times before he could get his voice to work. “Trist?” He was barely able to force out a whisper. “Excuse me a moment.”
“Val..” but whatever he might have said went unspoken and would have been unheard. Val brushed past the stacks of books, knocking one over. His head was bowed and he disappeared behind his closed bedroom door.

Trist sat and sipped his coffee. He let his eyes fall half closed and tried to indirectly listen to the noise around him. None of it seemed relevant so it was odd that the moment Val had grown upset, the volume had gone way up. He gave himself a moment to settle down, to let the noise drop down or maybe just to adjust before he set the mug down and went to follow Val.

“Huh.” He muttered as he found his feet unwilling to walk past the fallen stack of books. He tried again but his feet simply refused to move. “Well, this sucks.” He closed his eyes and tried to picture his feet taking another step forward but his body refused to move. He took two steps back and everything functioned to do that but again, when he reached the spilled line of books, his body simply wouldn’t step over them.

“Fine.” He knelt down and started to roughly gather the books up.

Only, his angry gathering of the spilled volumes slowed. His fingers traced the oddly warm covers and that warmth spread up his arm and filled him. Trist knelt, turning the books over in his hands, tracing their lines, filled with wonder at the deep emotions embedded in them.

With reverent hands, he restacked them. Each volume held memory, yes, but he wasn’t seeing specifics. The entire collection was so imbibed with safety and warmth, they oozed out a feeling of contentment and security. It was peaceful, just handling them spread the peace into Trist and he found himself smiling as understanding dawned. These volumes, these books, were Val’s friends. Likely the only ones that had ever stood by him, the only ones he allowed himself to feel safe with. He’d poured so much of himself into the reading and rereading of their lines that the characters inside the stories would step from the page and comfort him if they’d been given the option.

“I understand.” Trist smiled and patted the stack. “I do, thank you.” They couldn’t return Val’s trust and friendship, but they could entrust Trist to do it for him. “Now, may I pass?”

This time, when he tried to step forward, his feet actually moved. It was yet another wonderful side of his birthright, being accosted by books, but a fairly harmless one for a change. He managed to reach Val’s bedroom door with no further troubles and listened outside the door with all his senses.

He heard nothing so he knocked lightly. “Val?” He whispered, knowing the man wasn’t able to hear and not wanting him to hear. “I’m coming in, tell me to piss off now or hold your peace?” He waited, knowing Val wasn’t going to answer. “Good enough.”

The door swung open freely and he crinkled his nose at the disorder. The bed wasn’t made and didn’t look like it got made, ever. One of the dresser drawers stood open, the socks inside weren’t paired. Dirty clothes piled into a corner, apparently where they’d been thrown from across the room. It made him want to straighten and tidy and the idea of seeing what chaos may be lurking in the closet made him shudder.

“Val?” The light under the mostly shut bathroom door was shining out into the darker bedroom. He heard water running as he got closer. “Val?” The emotions churned out with the spilling light, too mixed to pin down and identify.

Trist pushed on the bathroom door lightly and it swung in. Val was leaning over the sink, splashing water on his face, letting it drip away forgotten. The sight of Val curled over the sink, wet, the smell of Val in the small space, the man’s emotional unease and vulnerability, it was an intoxicating blend. It shot across Trist’s nerves and settled in the pit of his stomach, the ember of a desire waiting to be fanned into a fire.

“Hey?”

Val let the cold water roll from his face one more time before shutting the water off and snagging a towel. The soft cotton felt good against his skin, the darkness it provided felt safe. He had a crazy image of pulling the towel over his head and pretending he didn’t exist.

Trist chuckled at that image. “I don’t think it would work.”

“Please, stay out of my head.”

“Then don’t fucking project it to me!” He snapped back, angry because of the undertow of Val’s never expressed anger. He bite a little on his lip and shook his head. “Sorry.”

“I,” Val dropped the towel onto the counter. “I forgot to ask Gavan what you two normally have for dinner.”

Trist pushed forward, snatched up the towel and folded it into a neat lines. “Fuck’s sake Val! Dinner should be the last thing you’re worried about!”

He shook his head. “I don’t get to cook for two very often, I can’t manage to cook for one.”

“Val! Are you okay?” Trist was starting to wonder if he’d had another episode. Maybe he was in a padded room somewhere and this was all in his head. That made a hell of a lot more sense then the walking iceberg across from him.

“I’m fine.”

“Like hell you are.” He dropped the neatly folded towel back on the counter top. “No point in lying, I know better.”

Val’s mouth tried to work but no sound came out. His face twisted up in pain but no tears fell. Trist raised his eyebrows, waiting for the steady man to give in. Val shook his head and his knees buckled.

“Whoa!” Trist sprang forward and caught an arm around the taller man’s ribs and eased them both to the cool tile floor. Val sprawled around Trist like a puppet who’s strings had been cut.

“Say it.” Trist demanded.

“What?” Val managed to force out.

“I know what you’re feeling but you need to say it.”

Val shook his head and couldn’t meet those intense eyes. “Who’s supposed to be the nut case here?”
“We’re all nutcases, baby doll. Some of us are just a little more honest about it.” He smiled softly and dared to brush the soft brown hair back. “Say it.”

“I…”

Trist waited but Val didn’t continue. “Come on, you?”

Val drew a slow breath. It felt insanely good to have those slender fingers sliding across his hair. “I can’t take much more.” The words spiked a sharp pain into his chest.

Trist watched as Val shut his eyes and how he drew a slow, shuddering breath but it was how he leaned into the comforting tease of Trist’s hand in his hair that sent shivers of delight across his body. He wanted to lean forward and kiss the tight, unhappy mouth across from him. If he was anyone else, he might have, but every sight and sense Trist had screamed not to. He’d gain a bigger foothold by not taking advantage of the other man’s vulnerability.

He behaved, but just barely. There was no doubt that speaking such a simple line had taken a tremendous amount for Val, that it was horribly vulnerable to him and Trist respected that and stopped pushing. He stroked across the hair one more time before forcing his hand to retreat.

“I’m not fussy, so long as I don’t have to cook it, I’ll eat anything.” And his mind provided the dirty joke to go along with that.

Val nodded and straightened up a little. The broken look started to fade. “Okay.” He drew a breath and then another and bit by bit backed away from the edge of a breakdown.

“You know, we’ve the fixings for really good soft tacos, sound good to you?”

“Suits.” Val nodded, starting to pull his legs under him. “About Kelly?”
“Hmmm?”

“How bad of a case of crabs?” He pulled himself to his feet and offered a hand to help Trist up.

The slender man was grinning again. “Bad. Real bad.” He let his fingers slid from Val’s hand.

“Almost makes me feel better.”

 

Out in the living room, Val stood and stared at the task he’d undertaken and just couldn’t summon the energy to finish. He hated leaving the books sitting about in stacks but he’d rather that then handle them in the mood he was in. Taking the time to bring them to was a pleasure, not a burden and he wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it.

“So,” Trist started behind him. “Guess ya like to read, huh?” It was really lame but he wasn’t used to being the one putting someone else back together, he was far more used to being the one that had fallen apart.

Val nodded. “A good number of these were my uncles. It’s the only thing we ever had in common.”

“Huh.” Trist nodded and refused to see the shadow of the grumpy, self centered uncle that lurked in a corner near Val. He refused to focus and give the vision form and shape. His eyes fell on a distraction when they landed on the diamond ring left sitting on the counter. “You should put this someplace safe.” Trist reached over and picked the circle of cold metal and stone up.

“Oh!” His eyes went wide. “Oh fuck, no, oh, no, oh fucking hell!”

Val turned at the cursing to see Trist stumble backward. The slender man fell hard against the counter top, the edge ramming into his spine but he showed no reaction to it. His odd eyes were wide and unseeing, scanning around but not watching anything in the physical world. The string of swearing died off into choking, gagging gasps. With each moment, it became more and more clear that Trist was having greater difficulty breathing.

Val moved on instinct, his eyes fell to where Trist held his mother’s ring between an index finger and thumb. He swatted out one hand and knocked the ring from Trist’s fingers. As soon as the contact was broken, Trist lurched forward, falling against Val’s chest. He clung there, gasping, gagging, choking for air and managing to get only a few raspy breaths down his throat.

His arms wrapped around the slender man without being forced. Val held on as, slowly, the coughing and retching eased and Trist started to breath easier. “If you’re going to puke, let me know. I’d rather not have you do it down my shirt.”

Trist shook his head and nuzzled in a little tighter to the warm chest. It had almost been worth it to end up where he was now, almost. “I’m okay.” He croaked out.
“Can I get you something?”

“Water? All I can taste is dirt.” His voice wheezed and he let Val nudge him into a chair. When the glass of cold water appeared, he wrapped his hands around it and drank thirstily. “Fuck me.”

Val moved carefully, found the ring and picked it up. “Should I ask what just happened?” He set the ring down in front of the pictures on the one shelf that didn’t hold books.

Trist refused to look at that shelf, there were far too many shadowy half formed visions waiting over there and he wasn’t in the mood. “That was your mother’s ring.” He stated again.

It wasn’t a question but Val nodded. “Yes.”
“She was wearing it when she died.”

“Yes.”

“God damn, Val, she died in a fucking cave in!” His face twisted up as those last moments of panic and pain floated across his mind again. “Fucking buried alive!”

“She was an anthropologist, my father was an archeologist, they worked as a team. The summer when I was eleven, Violet and I were sent to summer camp so they could go help a dig for six weeks.” It was so easy to say the words so long as he didn’t think about it. “A week and a half into their stay, they were down in one of the tunnels, the support beam wasn’t properly braced, it collapsed and killed them and five others. They told me that it was quick, that they’d been crushed.”

“Yeah, quick, and the tooth fairy, Easter bunny and Santa Claus get together for tea every Tuesday. Quick my ass.” He muttered into his water before he remembered who it was that was listening. “Oh, Jesus, Val, I’m sorry.”

Val waved it off. “I’ve always suspected the truth. You okay?”

The words were neutral but Trist felt the cold grief behind them. He nodded. “Yeah.”

As much of a shock as it was for him, Val figured it had been far worse for Trist. The slender man hunched over the glass of water, his eyes looked sunken in. What little color he’d had was faded and gone. His breath still caught in his throat in a wheezing gasp and all the previous, if somewhat annoying, life had drained from him.

“This happen often?”

“Often enough.”

Val stood in helpless uncertainty before he settled on the only thing he really knew how to do. He pulled the unfolded blanket from the back of the sofa and tossed it around Trist’s hunched shoulders. “Come on, you’ll be more comfortable on the sofa.”

He gave in to the gentle tugging mostly because he was too shaken to protest. Val was right though, his sofa was old and soft and accepted his weight like falling onto a cloud. The sofa and blanket both smelled like Val, which he found oddly comforting, as he watched the man in question move to one of the stacks of books.

One of his fingers slid down the spines until he found the book he’d been looking for. He gently eased it out and settled on the sofa, squirming a little to reach a comfortable position. Without explaining, Val opened the book and thumbed through the pages until he settled on the story he’d been looking for.

“The Purloined Letter, by Edgar Allen Poe.”

“You’re going to read to me?” He wasn’t sure if the idea pleased him, amused him, or offended him.

“Yes, now, hush.”

“You’re going to read me Poe?”

“Yes.” Val sighed and started to question the idea.

“Like I don’t have enough nightmares.”

He looked across to the other end of the sofa. “If you don’t want me to, say so.”

Trist shook his head so hard it hurt. “No! I’m sorry.” No one had read to him since he’d been a small child. He’d fallen asleep, then, to the sound of his great aunt reading children’s tales to him and Gavan, it was a memory he hadn’t even recalled in years. “Please, I’ve never read that story.” Truth was, he wasn’t a reader, his mind was too scattered for it.

“Okay but if it bores you, tell me and I’ll stop.”

“It won’t.”

“At Paris, just after dark one gusty evening in autumn…” Val started.

Trist leaned back and shut his eyes and focused only on the sound of Val’s voice. It blocked out the noise, shut off the looping image of dirt and death and he surrendered to it. Before the story was half way read, Trist had slid across the sofa, drawn to the soothing voice and the steady pattern of Poe’s words. Before the end was reached, he was almost curled up against Val, his head lolling gently against the other man’s shoulder and all of the earlier panic and fear was completely gone.