Authors: E.M. Lindsey
“Mm, I suppose he is,” Gabe said, taking those aforementioned elegant fingers and cupped them around Oliver’s cheek. “Good thing I love him, you know?”
“
Do
you now?” Oliver’s tone was full of reverence. They had said their I love yous before, but they kept them few and far between, so every time he heard it, it sent a thrill up and down his spine.
“I do. Very much.” Gabe turned his face to the side so their lips met, pushing together gently, carefully, and Oliver breathed out hard through his nose.
“Good thing I love you just the same.” Oliver cupped his hand around Gabe’s hip and held him tight. “This has been a damn good day, you know.”
“Well, I think so,” Gabe said from behind a small laugh. He pressed his forehead against Oliver’s and basked for several, long minutes. “In three years,” Gabe said very quietly, his voice heard just above the waves, “we’re both going to be boring old career men. And after our traditional May trip to the beach, you’re going to take me on some nerdy, professor-y vacation to London. And we’ll do all sorts of things boring old couples do. Like museums and galleries.”
“And we’ll have tea at outdoor cafés and laugh at all the punk kids on the street and completely forget when we were exactly like them.”
Gabe chuckled and pulled Oliver in for another kiss. “So, about that shag you mentioned.”
“The one a year from now?”
“Yes, that one.” Gabe paused to kiss him again. “I think we should probably head back to the apartment and practice.”
Oliver groaned, pulling Gabe down and slipped his tongue into his boyfriend’s mouth, drawing out a kiss, long and slow. “And maybe a shower?”
“Yeah,” Gabe breathed. “A shower sounds nice.”
Scrambling to his feet, Oliver shoved Gabe onto the sand as he hurried to fold the towel while his boyfriend giggled. Brushing himself off, Gabe finally rose to help clean up, and before long, they had supplies in the beach basket, the umbrella and chairs folded back into their carrying cases, and t-shirts wrapped around the backs of their necks.
They were just reaching the tide wall when Oliver’s phone began to buzz in his pocket, and he grumbled, shifting the basket to his other arm as he reached for it. Glancing at the screen, he saw his brother’s name flashing, and he sighed as he answered.
“This had better be good. I’m in the middle of a beach day and I’m about to get a shag so…”
“You need to come home.” There was something in Leo’s tone that was dark, almost terrified, and Oliver froze. “Right now. Ten minutes ago, actually.”
“What’s going on? What happened?”
“Oliver, I’m not joking. Get home.” Leo paused for a long moment, then said, “Dad’s here. I can’t do this on my own. Please.”
There was a funny buzzing noise in his head, and it took several moments for Oliver to realize he’d dropped the basket. Gabe was grabbing his arm, trying to get his attention after picking their things back up. “Yeah I…okay. Yes. I’ll be there quick as I can.”
“Good.” And with that, Leo disconnected the call.
Feeling numb and confused, Oliver blinked up at Gabe. “I…have to go. I have to go home.”
“What happened?” Gabe asked. He reached for the back of Oliver’s neck, and not thinking, Oliver wrenched away from his grasp. Reeling back like he’d been slapped, Gabe’s eyes went hard. “What’s happening?”
Oliver swallowed thickly. “I…my dad. My dad’s at mine. I need to…something must be wrong.” He was desperate to cling onto a coherent thought, desperate to keep his head straight.
“Alright,” Gabe said carefully. “Let’s get a cab, yeah? It’ll be faster than the bus, and there’s a bunch out on the main road right now.”
Oliver nodded, saying nothing as he followed Gabe past the tide wall. They pushed through the crowd walking along the boardwalk, out to the main road where there was a string of yellow cabs waiting for passengers all along the curb. Gabe hailed the first one, and they managed to squeeze themselves and their supplies into the back.
Oliver sat, mute and terrified as Gabe gave directions to the apartment, then handed over his card ten minutes later when they arrived. Oliver let his boyfriend take his hand, pulling him out, and they made their way up to the too-quiet living room where Oliver started to tremble.
Hesitant, Gabe reached out. This time when he touched Oliver’s neck, the other man crumbled. “I don’t know what it could be,” Oliver said through a chattering jaw, “but I can count the number of times he’s come to see me on two hands. So…so something must be wrong.”
“Or maybe,” Gabe said carefully, holding Oliver tight, “he’s just decided it’s time to see his children. Don’t jump to conclusions before you know. You’ll only hurt yourself.” Gabe touched his cheek lightly. “I love you, Ollie. Go take a quick shower, get dressed, then get in the car and go see what it’s about.”
Oliver swallowed, then nodded and pulled himself away. He wanted to kiss Gabe hard, to drag him to the bedroom and make love to him slowly because right now, he was craving the most intimate of contact. But he couldn’t let himself fall apart, he couldn’t let himself be weak. Not now.
Dragging himself down the hall, he slipped into the bathroom and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it. Stepping under the stream, he was only half aware as he lathered his hair, using a handful of soap to wash away sand and sea. He finished quickly and grabbed a towel, scrubbing the stray drops of water from his skin as he went to Gabe’s room.
Gabe was there, sitting on the bed up against the headboard, regarding Oliver with some caution. Neither of them said anything as Oliver began to rummage through the things he had there, growling after a moment when he realized all he had were casual jeans and shirts.
“Fuck. I don’t…he can’t…” He shoved his hands into his hair and tugged. “
Fuck
.”
“What’s the matter? He can’t what?” Gabe pressed.
Scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, Oliver let out a slow breath. “All I have are jeans. I need something proper.”
“He won’t mind. It’s an impromptu visit and you’re in college, Ollie. If he expects you to be dressed formally on a Saturday afternoon…”
Oliver let out a high, tense laugh. “I don’t know what he expects. I haven’t seen the bastard since I was bloody thirteen. The last time I saw him, he flew into London for four hours, took me and Leo to a lunch, and was gone. I don’t know…I don’t…”
Gabe shuffled from the bed to the floor, then went through Oliver’s things to pull out his nicest jeans, and a black, collared shirt. “This will do. You’ll be alright.”
With trembling fingers, Oliver took the clothes from his boyfriend and slipped them on. Forcing himself through a few, calming breaths, he ran his fingers into his hair, twisting it into a bun along the back of his head, and refused to look in the mirror.
“You want me to go with you?” Gabe offered as Oliver sat to tug on his socks.
Looking up at Gabe, Oliver shook his head. “Probably not a good idea. I mean…he knows what I am. He bloody well knows I’m a pouf and a degenerate, my mum made sure of
that
. But I’d rather not…I mean it’s best if I…” He was frustrated with his inability to finish a single sentence.
“Alright. Just text me when you can. And you can come back here when it’s over, you know?”
Oliver allowed Gabe to draw him into a soft embrace, pressing a kiss to Oliver’s temple. “I know,” Oliver whispered. “I’ll keep you posted when I can. I promise.”
Gabe drew away, then stood back as Oliver toed on his shoes, gathered his keys and phone, and together they walked to the door. It was like peeling a bandage stuck to stubborn hair, letting Gabe go, but Oliver forced himself to do it. Gabe was right. It could easily be nothing. It could be nothing more than his father deciding his adult children should know their father for once.
It could be some distant relative had passed.
It could be
anything
.
Pulling Gabe in for a quick kiss, he muttered, “I love you,” before turning away and heading to the street. Leo was waiting, Leo was counting on him and for the first time, he was ready to be an adult.
Chapter Ten
The drive back to his house was simultaneously the longest and shortest drive he’d ever made. He pulled into his usual spot, turning off the engine, and pocketed his keys. A sleek, black car was parked along the curb, up the street from the house, and Oliver had to assume that was his dad.
His back was aching from the tension, and he fought the very real urge to just jump back in the car and go, leaving every memory of his family behind. But he couldn’t just leave Leo on his own. Not like that.
Taking a breath, he straightened his shoulders and did his best not to slip into the terrified teenager he’d been the last time he’d seen his father face-to-face. He’d come too far to give back into that fear.
The click of his shoes on the pavement was almost deafening as he approached the door. He pushed his palm against the chilly wood and paused. He was his own man now. He was brave. He wouldn’t let anything destroy this.
Curling his fingers around the knob, he conjured the image of Gabe’s smile in his mind to remind himself of what he had to go back to, then pushed it open. Soft voices met his ears, and he breathed. No one was shouting, no one was crying. He slipped his shoes off next to a few pairs near the door, and in his socks, padded around the corner into the living room.
Seeing his dad was a little bit of a shock. Both Oliver and Leo had grown up with only one parent, one they didn’t resemble at all. Any family they’d ever seen had been on the English side, so they always felt like the odd ones out. They were the spitting image of him, really, aside from a sharper edge to their jaws. But their heritage had always been obvious, and they’d only had each other to relate to.
Now it was like staring in a mirror.
His dad was in a suit and tie, his hair much shorter than either of the brothers wore theirs, but it was their face on that man. Ren Sasaki smiled at his eldest son in person for the first time in ten years. Rising, Ren gave his son a short bow, which Oliver returned without really thinking.
Leo was sitting in the armchair, calm but incredibly tense, and he looked at Oliver with a small grimace.
“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” Oliver said swiftly.
Ren shook his head, reaching out to clasp his son’s shoulder. “Leo said you were out with your erm…boyfriend.”
Oliver felt his throat tighten as he sat down on the couch, a cushion of space between himself and his father. “Ah yes. I was. And I don’t mean to be rude, and not that I’m not pleased you’re here, but is there a reason you’re paying us a visit without even calling first?”
Ren let out a small laugh, his head shaking. “More blunt than you’ve ever been. How are you doing, Oliver?”
Oliver stared at him. “Well enough. Which you know, I’m sure.”
Ren sighed carefully, shaking his head. “Alright, we’ll skip the pleasantries. God only knows you don’t owe me any of them as I’ve never been the most attentive father.” Oliver winced, his gut clenching because the very last thing he wanted to do was open up a discussion about how his father was never much of one at all. “Your mother is ill.”
Oliver blinked as the words hit him. “How ill?”
“Incredibly. I’ve only just been informed.”
Oliver glanced over at Leo who was determinedly staring anywhere but at Oliver. Clearing his throat, the older brother nodded. “Alright. With what?”
“Early onset Alzheimer’s. It’s aggressive, advancing faster than most of the doctors expected it to. She’s got an in-home nurse with her, but she’ll either need to be sent to a hospice care center, or have someone home with her.” He gave his son a careful look, and it took Oliver a moment to realize what his father was saying.
“Hang on. Someone… as in
me
?” Oliver asked with a scoff. His scars began a violent, phantom itch and he squirmed a little.
“I’m only saying…”
“What?” Oliver barked, forgetting all sense of respect and propriety. “You’re saying
what
, exactly? That I should go back to that foul beast who tortured me for years? That I should forget what I went through because suddenly she’s ill and has no one?”
“Oliver,” Ren interrupted, his voice low and commanding. At the tone, Oliver went stone silent. “Sometimes we need to put the past behind us.”
“Easy for you to say,” Oliver said, his tone stiff. “You weren’t there to see what she’d done. You weren’t there to stop her. I’m not asking you to care after all this time, but I
am
telling you that I will not subject either of us to that woman ever again.” He looked at his brother as he finished his thought, and Leo’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
Ren let out a small sigh, shaking his head. “She’s not long for the world, you know. She’s not…she doesn’t know much anymore. I’ve been to see her. She didn’t recognize me.”
Oliver bit back a retort, the desire to tell his father that she might not have recognized him anyway, had it not been for the fact that his children looked just like him. Married for nearly thirty years and he spent less than five of them living with his spouse. It made them less than strangers, really.
“Surely she can get better help than the bitter sons she spent years abusing,” Oliver said quietly.
“She has no one,” Ren said.
Oliver swallowed, then looked away. “She has only
herself
to blame for that.”
Ren gave him a very careful look. “She also has me. Had I been there…” He stopped and shook his head. “Someday in the future, we’ll sit down and I’ll let you have at me for all my failings as a parent. For now, I thought…I thought you deserved to know about her, and to maybe decide for yourself what you felt is best.”
“And I expect you’re leaving after this? No chance
you
want to go and stay with your wife?” Oliver challenged.
“I can’t afford to take the time off,” Ren said, looking actually apologetic. “But I’m not far from here. You know you…you’re always welcome.”
“We’ll bear that in mind,” Oliver said with traces of bitterness. His insides were quaking, his mind desperate to have some space to process the fact that his mother—a woman he hated with every fiber of his being—was dying. And there was no stopping it.
“You’re not staying for tea?” Leo asked, speaking for the first time since Oliver had arrived.
Both Ren and Oliver stared at the younger brother, Oliver with wide eyes. “Ah, no. Not today. But I meant what I said. I’m only in San Francisco. I’d be more than happy to hire a car, or charter a flight for you. Just say the word.” Rising, Ren straightened his coat, then turned to Leo who had gotten up first.
The pair embraced lightly, a stiff, too-formal hug, but Ren looked happier than Oliver had ever seen him. It was enough to get him up from the sofa, and enough to step into his father’s waiting arms for his own.
“Will you?” Ren asked.
“Come and see you?” Oliver rubbed his face and sighed. “I suppose we might. If we can find the time.”
Leo offered to see Ren to the door, and the moment they were out of the room, Oliver sank back down. He rested his elbows on his knees, dropping his face into his palms, and didn’t move. Not even when he heard Leo come back into the room.
The couch dipped as Leo sat, and after a minute, he said, “I guess I didn’t have to call you back for that. Bit pointless, wasn’t it?”
“Nah,” Oliver said softly. “Wouldn’t want you to process that all on your own. I…maybe I was being a bit harsh with him.”
“No, Ollie. You were not. It was dead unfair of him to ask you to go back to that, you know,” Leo said firmly. “If you’d said yes, I would have stopped you.”
Oliver laughed. “I’m sure you would have.” He finally dropped his hands and looked at his brother. “You don’t want to go see her, do you?”
Leo’s face was drawn and tense. “I don’t…I don’t know. Everything in me says no. Says she doesn’t deserve it. But then I’m afraid I’ll regret it if she dies without me going to see her one last time.”
Oliver licked his lips in thought. “You know what we need right now?”
Leo looked at him, one perfectly sculpted brow lifted. “What?”
“A fucking drink.”
Leo laughed, then rose from his chair and held his hand out to his brother. “That is the best thing you’ve said to me in a long while.”