TWENTY-TWO
Leo didn’t know what to think, what to feel. He looked down at Roman and ran his fingers through his hair as the man continued to lie on him. Time passed, he didn’t know how much. He should probably say something. They should probably talk. But as Leo stared down at him, Roman almost looked…peaceful. Maybe peaceful in a way he never looked before, not even when they were kids.
So he just sat there and watched him, a million questions slamming around in his brain. Had Roman really been in denial all these years? Made himself believe he wasn’t gay? From the moment he’d fallen in love with Roman, Leo had never lied to himself about who he was. From the moment he lost Roman, he’d never lied to anyone else about who he was either. He was a gay man and proud. Anyone who had a problem with it could go to hell.
Roman had spent another twelve years in denial. He couldn’t imagine what something like that did to your insides, the damage and scars, the scar tissue it made.
It wasn’t long before Roman’s eyes closed. The position couldn’t be comfortable, but part of Leo was scared to wake him, scared that reality would hit Roman and he’d run.
So he let him rest for a little while. When Roman began to stir not long after, Leo whispered, “Wake up. We’re not sleeping in the living room this time.”
Roman shifted, looked up at him, and in that moment, he almost looked young again. There had never been anything innocent about Roman, not really, but right now, he could almost pass for it.
“Let’s go to bed,” Leo told him. There was a pause from Roman, and Leo wondered if he would deny this, insist on leaving, but he didn’t. He gave a simple nod and then pulled back.
When he stood, Leo did the same. He took care of the lights and then led Roman to his bedroom. It was a small room, with hardly any space around the queen-size bed. His blankets were a mess, hanging off the mattress, and one of his pillows was on the floor.
Roman chuckled behind him. “You kept your room a lot cleaner when you were a teenager.”
Leo turned and winked at him. “That’s because I didn’t have a choice. The other bathroom’s right there if you need it.” He pointed to the door inside the bedroom.
“I’m okay. Thanks.”
When Roman didn’t move, Leo told him, “Take your clothes off and get into bed. Or keep your clothes on if you want. It’s up to you, but you need to relax.”
There was a pause, a moment where Leo tried to fit Past Roman and Current Roman together. “It’s so strange…seeing the person you are now and comparing him to the kid I used to know.”
“You don’t think I feel the same way about you?”
Leo nodded. He could see that. Their pasts had changed them both—Roman in more complex ways than Leo.
When Roman didn’t undress, Leo took his own shirt off. His jeans and underwear were still in the living room on the floor, so he climbed into bed naked and waited.
He didn’t have to wait very long. Roman pulled off his own shirt, then his pants. He didn’t remove his black briefs before he got into bed beside him.
He probably shouldn’t have woken Roman. The tension was there again, thick, filling the room. Leo wasn’t having it. He rolled over, facing Roman. He threw a leg on top of him, wrapped an arm over him, and gave Roman some of his weight. “I wanted to become anything other than the Leo my parents wanted me to be. I wanted to go as far as I could, be as different as I could. I wanted to find me.”
He felt Roman move as he nodded. “That makes sense.”
When Roman didn’t offer anything of himself, Leo asked, “What about you? How did you become this Roman?”
Roman’s chest didn’t move beneath him. He could tell the man was holding his breath. “Tell me. I deserve to know.”
He felt Roman tremble, then go rigid, and for a second, Leo almost took the question back. But then, to have a chance at any kind of friendship, they had to get over the past. Hell, the way he saw it, if Roman wanted an honest life, he needed to deal with what happened.
“You remember what happened? That last time I was at your house?”
They’d tried to have sex. They were locked in his room, his family gone the way they always were. They were kissing and touching the way they so often did, when Roman had whispered to him, “I want you…want you to put it in me…your dick…”
Roman’s cheeks had turned pink, and Leo had known he was embarrassed. Leo himself had been shocked. At the time, he had no clue what his preference would be, but he’d assumed that if they did have sex, it would be Roman doing him.
“Never mind,” Roman had told him and tried to get up, but Leo had pulled him back down. They hadn’t had condoms or lube, so they’d tried raw and with lotion. He hadn’t known what the fuck he was doing back then, and it hurt Roman too much, so they’d stopped.
He’d spent twelve years wondering if that’s what spooked Roman. If that’s what changed things. “Go on,” Leo told him. “Tell me, Ro.”
He nodded before he continued. “I was freaked out. I went home, and Dad and Anthony were there. He’d seen us…Anthony had. Remember when we’d gone to Baldwin Park? He’d seen us. When we were walking, when we let our fingers latch together. He didn’t recognize you, but they…they knew what you were to me.”
Leo’s gut sank as Roman’s whole body began to tremble. Roman eased out from under Leo’s leg. Leo tried to pull him close, to hold him, but Roman held a hand up to stop him. “They beat the shit out of me. Fuck, I really thought I was going to die. I can still feel it. I see it. The hate in their eyes, their fists and kicks raining down on me.” He started to rock back and forth. His eyes were lost, a million fucking miles away. And damned if Leo didn’t feel Roman’s pain, the ache in his chest that stole his damn breath, and he knew it was nothing compared to Roman having lived it.
“Roman—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I have to do this. They broke ribs, cut my eye open, bruised my kidneys. They beat me until I blacked out, called me every fucking name in the book. They wanted to beat the gay out of me, and they did. It was like my mind shut down. I put up walls to keep out every fucking thing I felt for you. I made myself believe it wasn’t real. That it wasn’t who I was because if I was gay, I was dead. They would have killed me, Leo.”
He’d heard about things like this. The mind was so fucking powerful that sometimes it did whatever it could to protect you. That’s what Roman’s mind had done by making Roman believe he wasn’t who he was. Protected him.
“I’m sorry,” Leo told him. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Because he hadn’t known. He’d tried to get ahold of Roman for days—had he been in the hospital? He must have been. One phone call and Leo could have figured that out. All he’d had to do was look, but when he wasn’t sure what was going on, he’d been afraid to risk coming into contact with Roman’s dad. Then, when Roman finally started answering Leo’s calls, he’d told Leo to fuck off, that he didn’t want him around, and Leo thought he had his answer. Still, he kept fucking pushing. Kept calling and texting, but that was it. He didn’t try anything else.
“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I should have known something was wrong. I should have told my dad or—”
“Or what? I would have denied it. There was no way I would have told anyone my dad and Anthony had been the ones to do that to me. I would have denied it, and then it would have been worse because it was you.”
But Leo had kept pushing, hadn’t he? He’d kept pushing until Roman had met him one last time, nearly three months after their last time together.
“Don’t do this, Ro. You’re the only person who gives a shit about me.”
“I don’t, though. Don’t you understand? I don’t want nothin’ to do with you! I fuckin’ hate you!”
Leo cried, fucking cried at those words. Roman was the only person in the world he meant something to, the only one who knew him, the real Leo. Roman was the boy he loved, and now Roman hated him?
“Is this because of what happened? When we tried to…you know. We don’t have to do it again, and if we do—”
Sharp pain pierced his cheek as Roman’s fist met his face. Leo stumbled back and fell to the gravel, rocks jabbed into his hands, but none of that pain compared to the devastation that went on in his heart.
His lip began to swell, pulse. Roman had punched him. He looked down at Leo, hands fisted, muscles tense, hate in his eyes. Hate. His Roman was looking at him with hate. “Stay away from me, or I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”
Roman turned and walked away, and part of Leo died.
As though he was remembering the same thing Leo was, Roman said, “I didn’t want to be me anymore. I didn’t want to care about you. I told myself it was your fault. You changed me. Tricked me. And I was pissed, so fucking pissed at me, at you, that I lost it. In that moment, I really think I lost my fucking mind.”
Leo didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the words. Were there even words in a situation like this? His hands shook. He looked away.
“I lost both Anthony and my dad when I was eighteen—Dad was shot, and Anthony went to prison two months later. I got loans, scholarships, financial aid. I went to college and pretended my past didn’t exist. That I had never been the boy who loved you, who sold drugs, who had been beaten by his own fucking family.”
Leo didn’t respond. He still couldn’t. They’d beaten Roman. Altered his whole fucking life…and then Roman had hit him. Done what he could to protect himself, even if it meant living a lie.
“I’m sorry,” Roman said. “For hitting you…for everything that happened.”
“I know. I’m sorry too.” He was so fucking sorry for all of it. Jesus, it was all so damn unfair. Both of their pasts were.
“I know,” Roman replied softly. “Can I use your shower? I need a minute.”
Leo had no doubt he needed a minute. They’d dealt with a lot tonight—were still dealing with it. He nodded. Roman paused, and when Leo didn’t speak, he got out of bed, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door.
As soon as Leo heard it click, he closed his eyes and tried to get his breathing under control. They’d beaten him, and Leo hadn’t known. He’d forced himself to hate Roman for years for something that hadn’t been his fault. Not really.
Nausea rolled through his gut as he thought about it—about Anthony and his father hitting Roman. Had he thought of Leo while they’d done it? Wished Leo could save him? Had Roman called for him…regretted him…? He wouldn’t blame Roman if he had. What Leo had been through was nothing compared to Roman.
Leo shook his head, forced his eyes open. Roman was back in his life now, and he had to figure out exactly what that meant. All he knew was that whatever it meant, he was so fucking glad Roman was here.
And he hoped it didn’t all come crashing down on them again.