Endless, Forever (12 page)

Chapter Thirteen

“What the hell are you doing?” came a vaguely annoyed voice from behind him.

Oliver looked over at his shoulder to where Leo was looming.  His brother was dressed to go out, wearing a calf-length black skirt and a flowing tunic-like shirt with a silver heart emblazoned across the chest.  He was leaning over the counter, looking in a hand mirror as he spread thick, liquid eyeliner across his top lid.

“Going out?” Oliver asked in response to his brother’s question.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.  Now answer mine, because that looks like you’re pricing flights to London.”

“I am.  I want to surprise Gabe with a trip.  It’s almost our anniversary and he’s never been.”

“Have you even asked if he’s got time to go?” Leo asked, reaching into his makeup bag for a small tube of reddish lip gloss.

“Not yet.  I’m not buying tickets until I talk to him first, I just wanted to price them out.  Why are you so interested?  You want to come along as well?”  Oliver gave his brother a wolfish grin.

With a grimace, Leo swiped his finger under his bottom lip to tidy up a few smears.  “Not even a little bit.”

“Really?” Oliver spun in his chair, quirking a brow up.  “Why not?  You
like
London.”

“Yes, but that old bitch is still alive, and I’ve no intention of setting foot in that city until she’s dead and buried.”

Oliver felt something funny twist in his gut at the thought of his mother being actually and truly dead, but he wasn’t about to examine that now.  “Fine.  Suit yourself.  I’ll bring you some proper chocolate when we get back.”

Leo rolled his eyes as he adjusted the hem of his skirt, then grabbed a bottle of hairspray to set his fringe over one eye.  That finished, he preened a bit, his head high, chin out.  “Don’t wait up.”

“When do I ever?” Oliver muttered.  His brother was just reaching the door when Oliver’s phone rang, and the number on the screen startled him.  “Hang on a second, Leo. It’s dad.”

At that, Leo froze, and a faint color rose along his cheekbones.  He leaned on the back of the armchair as Oliver swiped the answer button, and pushed the phone up against his ear harder than was necessary.

“Hello?”

“Oliver?”

“Yeah, er…dad.”  It had always felt awkward addressing him by any familiar terms, but Oliver was far past calling the man, ‘father’.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I just got word your mother passed.  About fifteen minutes ago.  The nurses phoned.  She went in her sleep.”  Ren’s voice was devoid of emotion, almost clinical, like he was speaking about a stranger.

Oliver said nothing for a long moment, shocked into a silence between them.  It wasn’t as though he didn’t expect this.  He’d been waiting to hear the news of her passing for months now.  But hearing it was official, that she was gone, thought there would be some reaction.  Maybe rage or repressed grief, but there was just… nothing.  Just a faint numbness settling over is limbs.

“Right.  So…right,” he said eventually, clearing his throat.

“I will, of course, be making the arrangements, and I expect both you and your brother to turn up at the funeral.”  Ren paused, and when Oliver didn’t respond, he went on.  “We can discuss travel plans soon, but I won’t keep you.  I am sorry you never got to say goodbye.”

“Yes well…”  Oliver swallowed, not sure what to say, because he’d done it on purpose, and
surely
his father knew that.  “Thanks for letting us know.  Be in touch soon.”  He didn’t wait for a goodbye before hanging up.

It was clear by the look on Leo’s face, he knew.  “When?”

“Fifteen minutes ago.”  Oliver set his phone down on the computer desk with a loud
thunk
.  He startled from it, then cleared his throat again.  “We’re expected at the funeral.”

“Fuck that.  Fuck her,” Leo spat.

“And yet, we will be going,” Oliver said.  “You said yourself you’d set foot there when she’s buried in the ground, and that’s going to happen.”

Leo’s jaw was tense and he clenched his fists.  “I’m not going to deal with this right now, Ollie.  I’m going out.  Don’t call me back home, alright?”

Oliver waved him off.  “Wouldn’t dream of it, dear brother.  Have a good night.”

Without another word, Leo spun and slammed the door on his way out.  The silence was almost physical, pressing against him on all sides.  The website was blinking at him, asking him if he wanted to pick a flight.  It felt mocking, in a way.  His mother had robbed him, yet again, of comfort and happiness.  Any trip he made there with Gabriel would be tainted with her death.

Slamming the top of his laptop down, Oliver picked up his phone and went up the stairs.  His room was dark, his window open to let in the cool breeze coming off the nearby water.  He found himself thumbing through his messages, pausing over Gabriel’s name, and a text was at the tip of his fingers.

He had several options.  Have Gabe come over and talk him through it.  Put on Netflix, order some food that had the potential to clog two or three arteries, and deal with his emotions alone.  Or he could say nothing and beg Gabe to join him out for a drink to forget.

The latter sounded better.  Because he was not feeling equipped to let the news hit him just yet.

He tapped out the text.

Need you.  Wanna go out for a drink tonight?

Gabe responded five minutes later, telling Oliver to meet him at their usual spot at eight.  No arguments, no questions.  With any luck, Gabriel’s day in retail would have been so terrible, his mood would eclipse Oliver’s, and he wouldn’t notice anything was wrong.

But there were still two hours before Gabe was done, so Oliver decided to dress and get there a little early.  A few extra drinks to get started never hurt anything.

Chapter Fourteen

He was far gone by the time Gabe arrived at the club.  It hadn’t been intentional, and he was doing his best to keep it together, but he’d never been the best with subtlety.  His unfocused eyes spotted Gabe walking through the door, wearing jeans and a slightly baggy sweater which seemed hot for the evening, but it still sent shivers of want coursing up and down Oliver’s spine.

Divesting himself of his current dance partner, Oliver followed Gabe to the bar, sliding his arms around Gabriel’s waist and propping his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder.  “Hey there, sexy beast.  You come here often?”

“Only when my sexy British boyfriend invites me out.  He’s the jealous type too,” Gabriel said with a grin, “so you should probably run before he sees you.”

“Mm, I bet I could take him,” Oliver said, pressing a wet kiss under Gabe’s ear.  Sliding to the side, but not totally taking his hands away from Gabe’s waist, he looked him up and down.  “You don’t think it’s a bit warm for that?”

“It’s fucking sweltering,” Gabe said with a shrug, shoving the sleeves up higher.  “But my back was aching and I had to take my binder off.”

Oliver’s face fell.  “Ah.  Well…”  He stopped, letting his hand slip up the back of Gabe’s sweater, and he drew his fingers up and down his spine.  “How about we only stay for a few drinks, yeah?  Then we can take this party elsewhere.  A naked-friendly elsewhere.”

Gabe quirked an eyebrow up at Oliver.  “You seem like you might have already had a few.”

Oliver’s cheeks pinked a bit.  “Well…maybe a few.  Just a few.  Couple.  Few.”

Gabe tried to look stern, but his giggle left something to be desired.  “Right.  Is there a reason you’re getting trashed on a Wednesday?”

“Not really,” Oliver said, pulling a face.  He wasn’t drunk enough to ramble about his mother yet, which he considered a win.  Especially since it felt like something was currently trying to claw its way out of his chest.  “Maybe just feeling a bit reckless.  And I want to dance.”

“I might have heat stroke if I go out there like this,” Gabriel said with a small sigh.  His drink was delivered, and he took a long sip of the icy cocktail.  “I don’t mind waiting if you want to dance a bit more, though.”

Oliver pouted a little, but tugged Gabriel closer.  “I want you more than I want dancing.  Just finish that and we can go.”

Gabriel hesitated, but put his hand on Oliver’s cheek and stroked it with his thumb.  “Maybe then you’ll tell me what has you upset?”  When Oliver looked a little surprised, Gabriel laughed.  “You’re a shitty liar, Ollie.”

Oliver’s pout increased, though was replaced with a quick grin when Gabriel leaned over to kiss him.  “It’s nothing, really.  Just…family shit.  Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Gabriel’s face darkened a little at that.  “Leo?”

“Nah.  He’s off getting wankered with his new boyfriend.  Just…I’d rather not talk about it, okay?  I just want to get a little pissed and make out with my hot boyfriend.”

“
Boyfriend
,” came a scoff from right behind Gabriel, and Oliver’s eyes snapped up to a couple of guys he’d seen around on campus.  The fraternity types, bleached hair, collared shirts, identical grins showing they were both mean and plastered.

“Are you two going to fuck off, or are we about to have a problem?” Oliver replied, ignoring Gabe’s sharp head-shake.

The taller one laughed, pushing forward against Gabe a little.  “Just think it’s funny that you’d call a dyke your boyfriend.  I mean, look at those tits.”

Oliver felt rage well up in him, mingled with the swirling emotions of his mother’s death, and his mouth moved before he could even properly think.  “I will fucking destroy you!” he screamed, launching himself at the two men.  Gabe caught him by the shoulder, holding him back.  “You transphobic pieces of hetero shit!”

They were laughing, and Gabe looked furious.  “Don’t do this,” Gabe hissed in his ear.  “Let it go.”

“
Let it go
?” Oliver shouted, pushing Gabe back.  “Didn’t you hear what they said?  Jesus Christ, Gabriel…”

“I’m not going to make a fucking scene here in a bar,” Gabe said, his tone furious.  “And I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.  I just wanted a drink and a chance to unwind.  I’m not fucking
fighting
people.”

Oliver was still breathing heavy, but the two men had moved on to the end of the bar, leaning over to talk to one of the bartenders.  He was trying to catch his breath, but he was too drunk and too close to the edge to just let it go.

“You want to go home?”

Gabe looked immensely relieved when Oliver slapped a couple of twenties on the bar, and started away.  Instead of going for the door, though, Oliver took what was left in his glass and flung it at the two men, catching them right in the face with the dredges of his cocktail.  Wearing a grin of self-satisfaction, he opened his arms as an invitation to fight.

“Yeah.  What the fuck you gonna do about it, mate?”

No one had a chance to find out.  Security arrived to escort Oliver out of the bar, and Gabe came out a moment later, looking furious and embarrassed.  He didn’t say anything, though he had Oliver by the wrist, and they were heading down the street in the opposite direction to Gabe’s.

“What the
fuck
,” Gabe asked as they rounded a corner and came to a stop, “were you thinking?  You just got thrown out of a bar.”

Oliver shoved him off, looking furious.  “You wanna just roll over and let those fucking cis douchebags misgender you, that’s your choice, Gabe.  But I’m not going to just sit there and…”

“You don’t get to decide when I’m offended,” Gabriel cut in, taking a step back from his boyfriend.  “
You
don’t get to decide when it’s too much.  I don’t enjoy it.  It doesn’t make me fucking feel good that my breasts invalidate my gender to garbage like that.  But it’s not your place.”

Oliver wanted to listen.  He truly did, but his mind was going too fast and the pain was racing up his spine, consuming him from the inside.  “Well fuck you then, Gabriel.  I try to stand up for you and
I’m
the bad guy?”

“Yes,” Gabriel said.  “You
are
.  You’re no better than they are if you’re not going to respect my choices.”

Oliver froze, blinking rapidly.  The stress of the evening, the adrenaline now plummeting, sent his stomach into a violent spin.  Before he could answer, he was grabbing the nearest wall, and his stomach unleashed a torrent of shots and beer onto the ground.

Oliver’s entire body trembled as his gut purged everything he’d had that night, the smell of partially digested alcohol making him feel even sicker.  He dry-heaved when his stomach was empty, and as he started to rise, he realized he was sobbing.  Refusing to turn, he gripped the wall, side-stepping the mess he’d made, and pressed his forehead to the cool bricks.

“You should get home,” Gabe said, his tone a little kinder than it had just been.  “Whatever’s happened…”

“My mum died,” Oliver blurted miserably.  He let out a choked laugh, still refusing to turn around, even when he felt a sudden, warm hand on the small of his back.  He pushed his head harder against the bricks until his skin started to sting and it felt like his skull would crack.  The pain brought him down a little, and his breath came out, shaking and thick with tears.  “My dad rang earlier, just before Leo went out.  She died.  I have to…I’m off to London for the funeral.”

“When?” Gabe asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“Dunno.  I’ll get the details soon, I expect.”  He took in another breath and grimaced at the taste of vomit still in his throat.  “I’m really fucking sorry, Gabriel.  I don’t know why I’m like this.  I don’t know why I can’t just be a fucking decent boyfriend.  Clearly you were right all along, you know.  Not to trust me.”

“Ollie,” Gabriel said, his tone almost heart-broken.  “You
know
I love you.”

Barking an angry laugh, Oliver finally turned his head, looking at Gabriel’s stricken expression.  “But love’s not quite enough.  You made that pretty clear.  Isn’t going to cure me, is it?  Not going to erase the scars or somehow turn back the clock and make that bitch not…not…”  He stopped when his stomach heaved again, but nothing came out.

Gabe stood there a moment, looking helpless before he reached out, pulling Oliver away from the wall.  “You need to shower, and brush your teeth, and get in bed.”

Oliver stumbled, but let himself lean on Gabe as they made the trek back to his house.  Luckily the night was cool, the breeze coming from the direction of the ocean soothing to his sweaty brow and aching limbs.

“You’re not going to stay with me, are you?” Oliver asked quietly, just as they reached his driveway.

There was a long pause before Gabriel answered.  “No.  I’m not.  I don’t want to see you until after you get back from London.”

Had words been able to cause physical wounds equal to the pain he felt from that, Oliver was sure he’d end up bleeding out right there on the pavement.  But it wasn’t like he didn’t understand.  It was only fair, it was only what he deserved.  He hadn’t been able to hold up his end of the bargain for more than a handful of days.  He’d promised Gabriel he’d never cross a line with him again, and then he’d done it.  He could count the hours of how long it had taken before he fucked up once more.

Swallowing, he didn’t reply, but allowed Gabriel to get him to his front door.  He fumbled for his keys, and didn’t look back as he stepped in.  He didn’t want a messy goodbye, he didn’t want to cry in front of Gabriel right then.  He didn’t have the stomach for it.

If he was going to survive the next few weeks of going back to the place which had only ever caused him pain, he couldn’t let himself give in to weakness.  Not while there was still hope.  Gabriel hadn’t said forever.  He just said for now.

For now.

That was something Oliver could live with.