Endless, Forever (14 page)

He desperately wished the pill would kick in soon, before anyone arrived.

“…fine on our own.  If you’d like to give us a few moments,” Leo was saying.

Oliver almost laughed when he realized his baby brother was filling his role.  He was taking charge and commanding the situation, and he felt like a complete failure.  Hadn’t his job always been to protect Leo from these things?  To shield him from unnecessary unpleasantness?

His hands were trembling now, but his father and the Vicar actually agreed and moments later, they were in the room alone.  Their mother’s dead body was still there, in the casket like a dare, begging Oliver to defile her in some way—as she had done to him so many years ago.

Leo dragged him to a chair and sat him down, holding him tight by the shoulder.  “Don’t.”

“I didn’t
do
anything,” Oliver replied, his tone sharp but shaking.

“It’s written all over your face.  You’re lucky our father doesn’t know you better.  Just let it be.  She’s not there.  That’s a fucking corpse, Ollie.”

His throat went tight again, and he cleared it, daring to look over at the casket.  “I know.  I hate myself for not coming earlier.  Even if she hadn’t been able to recognize me, at least she would have been alive.”

“And you would have what?” Leo asked with a scoff.  “Hit her?  Burned her?  Attempted to exorcize the demons of old age and bigotry from her bones?  Even if she was alive and coherent right now, it wouldn’t have made a difference.”

Oliver glanced up at his brother, staring at the pale smear of gold shadow across his eyelids, at the soft pink gloss along his bottom lip.  He had moved on, embraced who he was with a fullness Oliver knew he could never achieve, and it made him feel proud.  But left a taste as bitter as the pill he’d swallowed.

“I don’t want to be here,” he said, acutely aware he sounded like a petulant child.  “I want to get the fuck out of here and go home.  This isn’t home.”

“I know.”  Leo finally moved his hand away, grabbing one of the nearby chairs and pulling it close to his brother.  “I’m going straight back after this.  Dad’s out of his fucking mind if he thinks I’m going to stay on for
any
reason.”

Oliver looked over at him sharply.  “Did he ask you to?”

“He hinted at it.”  Leo rubbed his face carefully, not disturbing his make-up.  “He’s not thrilled with my marks, thinks I ought to come back here for a proper education.  Funny how he wants to blame the American Universities for it instead of me.”

“He’s never paid any real attention,” Oliver said with a shrug.  He glanced down at his hands clasped between his knees, and he noticed they weren’t trembling anymore.  His head started to feel a little floaty, and a smile flickered across his mouth.  “I think that pill is kicking in.”

Leo looked at him sideways, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips.  “Good.  Just… don’t start giggling during the funeral.”

Oliver snorted, shaking his head.  “Fuck you, Leo.”  Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and it was easier now to pretend they weren’t in the room with her dead body.  “I fucked up with Gabriel, you know.  Probably worse than I ever have.”

“How?”

Oliver cracked open one eye.  “Some fucking twats at the pub were calling him a dyke.  He came out without his binder, and he was pretty uncomfortable.  I lost it.  He asked me to let it go, but I didn’t.  I made a scene and got kicked out.  Then I shouted at him for not standing up for himself.”

“Did he punch you?”

Oliver snorted.  “No, he didn’t.”

There was a long pause before Leo answered.  “I’d have punched you in the face, but that’s just me.”

“I think I was too pissed for him to feel comfortable getting violent.  I vomited all over my shoes straight after,” Oliver said with a laugh.  “He walked me home and told me he didn’t want to see me until after the funeral.  He thinks I can’t keep it together, and he thinks I’m going to spiral now that the bitch is dead.”  He ran his hand down his face hard enough to make his nose sting and eyes water.  “He’s probably right, you know.”

Leo gave him a long, hard stare.  “I know,” he eventually admitted.  “You only know it because you’re fucking high.  Tomorrow you’ll sober up and all your repressing shit will happen again.  You need a goddamn therapist.”

Oliver laughed, this time the sound booming off the walls and he realized he just didn’t give a shit who heard him.  “You’re probably right, but I’m a bloody coward.  I don’t want to relive all of that.”

“Who would?” Leo asked.  “And there’s no guarantee it won’t make it worse.  But if you don’t try, Gabe’s never going to forgive you.”

“It’s probably already too late for us anyway,” Oliver said.  “Which is the worst, you know?  Because I fucking love him like I have
never
loved anything before.  When it’s officially over, he’s gonna rip my bloody heart out and leave me with nothing more than a gaping cavity in the middle of my chest.”

Leo lifted his brow, then shook his head.  “Your heart is on your left, under your ribs.  Not the center of your chest.”

“Thank you for that, Doctor-Professor Sasaki,” Oliver said, but he was smiling now.  With a sigh, he looked at the clock and realized their relatives would be arriving any minute.  He rose, feeling a little floaty and his limbs heavy, but he knew he’d be able to manage it now.  Offering a hand to his brother, Leo hoisted himself up and they took turns making sure their suits were righted and hair in place.

“You ready for this?” Leo asked.  “All the cheek kissing and I’m so sorry for your loss?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.  I’ll pretend it was about that goldfish you fed Oreos and beer to last year,” Oliver said, smirking just a little.  “I was pretty sad about that damned fish.”

Leo chuckled.  “Bloody good funeral, that.  I never meant to be a fish-killer, you know.”

“It’s what happens when you get stoned and try to take care of pets, you stupid fuck.”  Oliver reached out, grabbing his brother by the back of the neck, and yanked him close.  He pressed their foreheads together, and he took in a huge breath.  “I fucking love you, Leo.  And not just because I’m wankered on that pill you gave me.  I couldn’t do this without you.  Not this, not the last three years.”

Leo let Oliver hold him in place for a moment, then carefully pulled away, but kept a tight grip on his brother’s wrist.  “I love you too.  I don’t know why sometimes.  But I do, and it’ll be over soon.”

Oliver sighed as the door opened, and a pale face of a random cousin poked in.  He put on his best mourning expression, nodding for her, and the brothers took their spot a few feet from the casket.  More family arrived shortly after, and the tears began.  Dry lips pressed to their cheeks, insincere hugs, and they bore it with the weight as only the children of an abuser could do.

A careful smile, a nod of the head, and a quiet, “Thank you,” whispered into the void.

Chapter Sixteen

“Could have gone worse,” Leo said, his voice only a little slurred.  They managed to escape the suite the next afternoon, finding a quiet local where only a handful of people were drinking and watching a recorded Rugby match on the muted TV above the bar.

Oliver had his hands wrapped around a glass of whiskey, a couple of black straws jammed into the pulp of a lime, and he was watching the amber liquid go hazy with the fruit juice.  “Mm?  What did you say?”

Leo laughed, taking a pull from his gin and tonic.  “I said it could have gone worse, the funeral.  Weird to see people from school though.”

Oliver snorted, his head shaking back and forth.  He was still a little off from the pill Leo had given him the day before, but not nearly as giddy and numb as he had been.  The viewing had gone as planned, Oliver occupied enough with family members he hadn’t seen in decades, so he wasn’t thinking much about his mother’s body.

The funeral itself lasted as long as any proper Anglican funeral did.  The Vicar did a decent job of making his mother sound like she had once been a decent human being.  Oliver was spared from making any big speeches by his father reading a passage from the Bible—nothing Oliver recognized, but then again he’d spent years blocking out those lessons.

The drive to the cemetery was long, but they had an escort through the streets, and in a haze, Oliver watched his mother’s casket lowered into the ground.  He expected some great storm to unleash itself on everyone who stood around, watching the morbid procession of events, but the most they got was a gentle summer mist, and a heavy fog settling around the area.

By the time it was all over, Oliver was too tired, too sober, and inches away from punching the next person who gave insincere condolences.

A few people had attempted to make small talk.  Mostly people he barely recognized from school, and a handful of people from University whom he figured had only come to see how the Sasaki siblings had fared all these years in the States.

The worst was Mitchel Teague, one of the boys from school he’d had a little tryst with on the football pitch.  He could very clearly remember the feeling of Mitchel’s cock down his throat, and seeing him there with a glint in his eyes, his wife on his arm, Oliver nearly lost it.  It had taken everything in his power not to laugh until he cried, and then cry because God did he miss Gabriel right then.

He knew coming back to London was going to be ugly for him, but he had no idea how bad it would feel until that moment when Mitchel met his eyes and gave him a wink.

“I just can’t believe we ever hung round with stupid fucks like that,” Oliver said after a little while.  He drank half the contents of his glass in one go, then swiped the back of his hand across his mouth.  His phone was in his pocket, pressing hard against his thigh, almost begging him to send a text to Gabriel.  He was trying though, to give Gabriel and himself space, to work things out on his own so he could be better.  He
wanted
to be better, to stay in love and deserve to be loved back.

“That Mitchel though,” Leo said, waggling his eyebrows, “he looked like he was gagging for it.  I bet he’d have let you have another go at him.”

Oliver pulled a face, smacking his brother on the arm.  “That’s disgusting.  It was disgusting the first time round, you’d think I’d go again?”

“Nah,” Leo said, giving him a sharp grin.  “Just thought it was funny.  Bet he’s thought of you with every wank since the night you sucked him off.”

“I didn’t need to know that.  I didn’t need to ever
think
about that.”  Oliver downed the rest of his drink and slid off the stool.  “I’m going out for a smoke.  Order me another, yeah?”

Leo merely tipped his glass at his brother as Oliver made a semi-steady path through the pub tables and out the door.  He walked a few paces away from the front of the pub, slipping against the bricks behind a massive bin, and fumbled in his pocket for his smokes.  He lit one, taking a huge drag, and relished in the burn.  His lungs were aching, and all he really wanted was a warm bed. 
His
warm bed.

When he reached into his pocket for his phone, he knew it was a bad idea.  It was probably too late to call Gabriel, but he was thumbing through his contacts anyway, and he was pushing the button even though his brain was screaming for him to stop.

It rang and rang.  Just when he thought he might luck out, that the Universe was saving him from embarrassing himself, a sleep-thick voice picked up.  “Ollie?”

Just the sound of his boyfriend made him go weak in the knees, and he had to push himself against the wall for support.  “Hey.  Sorry, it’s probably really late there, yeah?”

“Yeah but…you alright?”

Oliver let out a laugh far more bitter than he intended, and pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead.  “If I said yes, would you believe me?”

“No,” Gabe said, sounding a little more awake now.  He snorted a laugh and sighed.  “
Are
you, though?”

“No, but I’m not as bad as I could be.”  He leaned his head back against the wall and took another long drag, speaking through the thick smoke in his lungs.  “Some bloke I sucked off at my old school showed up to the funeral.  With his wife, no less, to pay his respects to the bitch.”

Gabe was silent for a long moment.  “Ah.  Must have been awkward.”

“It was.  A two glasses of whiskey kind of awkward.  Leo’s ordering me a third right now.  We’re at some shite pub in fucking Chelsea surrounded by drunk men watching a rugby match, and I haven’t eaten since yesterday before the funeral.  It’s my own, personal little hell.  And I fucking miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

The admission startled Oliver, who hadn’t expected Gabriel to say anything along those lines.  “Fuck, Gabe.  I can’t wait to come home.  This place is a nightmare, you know.  My family’s all here, none of them know anything, and they expect us to be sad and I just…I don’t have it in me to wear that face.”

“I know.  I…”  Gabriel cleared his throat.  “I feel like a serious asshole for letting you go off to London like that.  I knew what you were going to be facing, and I’m not happy about what happened between us, but I
do
love you.  I shouldn’t have…”

“No,” Oliver said quickly, standing forward a little too fast.  His head swam, and he clenched his eyes shut.  “No, you had every right.  I was a fucking twat about everything and you deserved so much better.  Nothing you said about me was
wrong,
love.  I haven’t dealt with it.  I’m still not dealing with it, and I don’t know how to even begin.”

Gabriel let out a very small sigh.  “Ollie, let’s not do this now.  We can talk about this when you get back, alright?  Just know that I love you, and I miss you so much.  I can’t wait to see you when you get home.”

He hadn’t cried before this.  Not for Gabriel, not for his mother.  Nothing more than a handful of tears—if that.  But it was all over now.  The floodgates burst and he turned toward the wall, his chest heaving with sobs.  He pressed the phone to his ear so hard it hurt, and he tried to speak, but he couldn’t get his throat to work.  His knees felt suspiciously weak, and before he realized it, he was kneeling down with one hand pressed hard against the brick to anchor himself.

His eyes were burning with the tears, his cheeks aching, throat so tense he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to speak again.  Gabriel was still on the line, murmuring comforting words, and every part of Oliver’s body begged to be home, in his bed, with Gabe’s arms around him.

He couldn’t carry on like this though, and he knew it.  He attempted to compose himself, taking in a few breaths, willing the tears to just hold on a few more days.  He swiped under his nose with the back of his hand, sniffing loudly into the alley.  After a second, he let out a choked laugh and shook his head.

“Lost it a bit there, didn’t I?”

“Have you cried at all before now?” Gabriel asked.

Oliver snorted.  “For that bitch?  No.  Didn’t seem worth it.  That wasn’t really for her, anyway.”  His voice was thick with tears, but he eased himself back to his feet and tried to shove away the feeling that he was still suffocating under his grief.  “I don’t want to fuck up, anymore, but I don’t know how to stop.”

“You’ll work it out,” Gabriel said, his voice far off and a bit sleepy now.  “You will.  You’re a good person, Oliver.  You’re worthy of love, you just have to figure yourself out.”

Closing his eyes, he tried not to let the words hurt so much.  “I know,” he breathed.  “Anyway I’m being a selfish git here, keeping you on and I know it’s bloody late.  So…can I text you later?”

Gabriel yawned for a second, and there was a slight smile in his voice when he spoke.  “Of course you can.  How about call me tomorrow at some reasonable hour.  We’ll talk.  I’ll tell you what kind of awesome British souvenir I want you to bring home for me.”

In spite of the raging ache in his chest, Oliver let out a small giggle.  “Yeah, alright.  It’ll be something brilliant and super British, I promise.”

“You’re a dream.  Anyway, I’m falling asleep on you, so I’m going to go.  But if you need me, just call, okay?  No hesitations.”

“I promise,” Oliver said, but knew deep down he wouldn’t do this again.  Not until he’d worked himself out a little more, got himself closer to the man Gabriel deserved.  “Sleep well, love.”

“Mm, I will.  Goodnight.”

The line went dead, and Oliver spent another few minutes mopping up his face and ignoring passers-by giving him curious looks.  When he felt like he could stand on his own two feet again, he strolled back into the pub, and didn’t quite meet Leo’s gaze.

He noticed there was no fresh drink on the bar, however, and glared.  “Where’s my whiskey?”

“Dad rang.  He’s sending a car, so I closed out the tab.”  Leo grabbed Oliver by the chin, forcing him to look up.  “Did Gabriel break up with you?”

“No.”  Oliver took a long breath.  “Told me he loved me and missed me and…”  His throat went tight again and he cleared it, yanking his chin away from his brother’s fingers.  “Anyway, so what are we doing?”

Leo stared for a while before answering.  “Lunch.  He’s having us brought to lunch with the lawyers.  Talking about the estate.  I want to go fucking home, Ollie.”

“I know.”  He felt as miserable as his brother sounded, but what else could he do?  They had to be adults about this whole thing.  No more running from their problems.