Chapter eleven
A loud bang startled me awake. My heartbeat accelerated alarmingly and for a moment I had no idea where I was. My eyes flew open but I saw nothing but blurred lines around me. Something moved next to me, making me sit upright. Breathing had become impossible, the air too thick to swallow.
“Amir?” I heard my name being said, the voice familiar. Comforting.
Safe.
I blinked a few times and the room around me came into focus. Jay’s room. I was in Jay’s room and he was lying next to me, looking at me with a slight frown.
Willing myself to calm the fuck down, I managed to get a few gulps of air and kick-start my brain into working again. Awareness of the situation and my surroundings flooded my consciousness, instantly relaxing me.
I was in Jay’s house and the bang I’d heard must have been a door slamming somewhere nearby. Not gunshots.
“You alright?” Jay asked, propping himself up on his elbow. His hair fell into his eyes as he studied me intently.
“Yeah,” I replied, rubbing a hand over my face. “Something startled me awake.”
Jay’s frown deepened but he didn’t say anything. I lay back down and gathered him in my arms. He didn’t protest or push me with any more questions. Resting his head on my chest he started drawing lazy circles on my ribs, lulling me back to sleep.
******
“How do you like your eggs?” I asked, counting the eggs in the fridge. There were six, more than enough for us both.
“Scrambled. And well-done. You know, not slimy.” Jay made a disgusted face and shivered theatrically.
“Three scrambled, non-slimy eggs coming up.”
I glanced at Jay as I pushed the fridge door shut, cradling the egg carton, some butter, and cheese in my arms. He looked so much better today, the pale, yellowish hue on his skin nearly gone. We’d showered together this morning, Jay helping me as their bathroom wasn’t equipped for me to take a shower alone. Shockingly, his helping hand had found my cock and the shower had taken more time than we’d anticipated.
Jay saw me looking at him and winked at me, probably reading correctly what I was thinking about. Sitting cross-legged on a chair, wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats, his wet hair tugged behind his ears, Jay was irresistible. I left everything on the counter and took the few short steps separating us, and kissed him. A sweet, gentle kiss, just the faintest touch of tongue on his lips.
The door opening and closing with a bang made me jump back. Cedric was standing by the door looking at us as if we’d killed his kitten.
“Hey, Ced,” Jay said cheerfully, extending his arm to me. I clasped his hand in mine, then kissed the top of his head before going back to making breakfast. “Could you not bang every door in the house from the early morning?” Jay’s voice was still nice and cheerful, but nobody could miss the underlying stern note.
I didn’t hear Cedric reply before he brushed past me to get to the coffee machine. He started making his coffee with a bit more vigour than necessary. I cast a look at Jay over my shoulder and he rolled his eyes at me, biting his lip against a laugh.
The eggs were sizzling nicely in the pan when Freddie walked in, a smile on his face.
“I thought I smelled breakfast cooking,” I said, coming closer to me and peering over my shoulder in the pan. “Mmmm, scrambled eggs.” He said it as if it was the most delicious thing in the world.
“Would you like some?” I offered. “We’ve got six eggs, more than enough for both of us. I’m going to make toast as well.”
“I’d love some! Hang on, I may have an egg or two.” He opened the fridge and produced two more eggs plus a packet of bacon rashers. “Here,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder.
I know the polite thing to do would be to offer Cedric some breakfast as well. But I didn’t give a single fuck about being polite when he was behaving like an asshole. What I found interesting was that neither Jay nor Freddie offered him anything to eat, either.
He stood there, long fingers wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, hip leaning against the counter, watching us warily as we went about our breakfast. Jay and Freddie didn’t seem bothered by him, so I decided to ignore him as well.
Soon, the table was filled with eggs, bacon, cheesy toast, and mugs of coffee and tea.
“This is amazing,” Freddie said as he stuffed his mouth with food. “Nobody cooks breakfast here. How do you feel about moving in, Amir?”
Jay and I knew he was joking so we just laughed, but Cedric seemed to find the joke tasteless. From the corner of my eye I saw him scrunch his nose disapprovingly before stomping to the door and walking out without a word.
“Wow,” Freddie murmured, but didn't seem too put out by Cedric as he continued to eat with gusto.
Even though Cedric’s behaviour grated on my nerves, I decided the best way to deal with him was to ignore him. So I did, and we ended up having a great time at breakfast, chatting about the upcoming Game of Thrones season which had all of us really excited.
******
“Which one is your favourite?” I asked jerking my chin towards the guitar on the wall.
“They both are,” Jay said with a fond smile. “I’ve got three more acoustic guitars back home, and a couple of electric. But I had to have these two with me here.”
He went to the guitars and took one off its hook. I watched him as he sat on the sofa underneath, fiddling with the guitar, tightening the strings one by one as he tuned it. I settled comfortably on the bed propped on a couple of pillows against the headboard and waited.
Jay’s eyes were dark with concentration as he tuned his guitar. I could have walked out of the room and he probably wouldn't have noticed.
“Alright,” he said in a long while, looking at me with a smile. “Any requests?” He quirked an eyebrow, waiting.
“Green Day,” I said, hoping to present him with a challenge. Something told me Jay could pretty much play anything he wanted, and play it well.
When the first notes of Time of Your Life came from underneath his fingers, I felt chills running down my body. The guitar sounded beautiful, every note clear and crisp, even if the acoustics weren’t perfect in Jay’s room.
And then Jay started singing. His voice was a little rough from his cold, but it reminded me so much of Billie Joe that I gasped. His eyes never left mine as he sang, the smooth rasp of his voice making the song even more perfect in its imperfection.
My heart stuttered in my chest, swelled then exploded, making me feel uncomfortable in my own skin. In that moment I realised I’d fallen for Jay, fast and hard, and there was no turning back. As I watched him play, I sent a silent prayer into the universe that he’d catch my heart when it landed in his hands.
The emotion in Jay’s wide, blue eyes told me that he was praying for the same thing.
Jay sang a few more songs, happier, upbeat ones. The intensity of the moment we’d shared must have caught up to him, too, because he didn’t ask me for any more requests. We laughed as Jay sang a dirty version of a popular children’s song he’d made up when he was twelve, and then a heavy metal version of Britney Spears’ Toxic. I sang along – badly – to Oasis’ Wonderwall and Jay made fun of my lack of musical talent.
All the singing took a toll on his voice though, and by the last song I could see him wincing with every note he sang.
“Come to bed,” I said, patting the covers next to me.
Jay nodded, placed the guitar back on its hook and lay down next to me. It was late afternoon by now, and soon I’d have to get back home. Jay looked much better – he was still a little pale, but he wasn’t feverish anymore and his spirits had definitely lifted.
“You going to school tomorrow?” I asked, pulling him closer to me. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and sighed.
“Yeah. I have to hand in my assignment, and I have an important lecture I need to attend. I also wanted to spend a couple of hours in the library. I’m nearly done with the first draft of my George N Whelan paper, and I’m impatient to get it over with already.”
“I thought you sneaked in a camera and photographed everything you’d need?”
“Yeah, I thought so, too, but there’s a few pages I’m missing. Besides, looking at the real thing is my inspiration to keep writing.” Jay propped himself on his elbow and met my eyes. “I’m at that point of the project where I think it’s complete rubbish and I should just scrap it and do something else entirely.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said, pushing his hair out of his face. “Don’t throw all your hard work away, Jay. Finish it and then decide if it’s good enough. If it still sucks after editing and polishing it, then try something else.”
Jay seemed uncertain when he glanced away and asked,
“Would you read it when I’m done? Tell me, honestly, if it’s any good?”
“Of course I will.” I grinned at him and pulled him down for a kiss.
I pulled away before the kiss became too heated, and stroked the soft skin on Jay’s cheekbone. I could feel the air between us charging with electricity, with the need to share what we’d both felt during that song, and yet neither of us was ready for it yet. Jay stared at me, his mouth opening and closing as if not finding the words he so desperately wanted to say.
“When did you learn how to play?” I asked, feeling Jay’s tension bleed away at my question.
“I’m not sure exactly,” he said, laying his head on my chest. “I found a small acoustic guitar under the tree one Christmas, I think I was probably nine at the time. I was obsessed with it.” Jay chuckled fondly at the memory. “My parents were forced to get me some lessons to make the horrible noise stop. Neither of them knew how to play so they couldn't help. I remember my dad was not very enthusiastic about the whole thing, but Mum was adamant I needed to learn how to play properly. I think she snuck the guitar under the tree without Dad’s approval.”
I smiled, imagining nine-year-old Jay strumming on his guitar, his blue eyes too big for his small face as he concentrated on learning the chords. My fingers went to his hair on an instinct and raked through it, massaging his scalp. Jay moaned a little, then continued.
“They asked this girl to teach me the basics and she did, but as I grew up I wanted to know more. I wanted a proper guitar and I needed someone who could really push me, you know? So for my twelfth birthday my mum got me a beautiful adult-sized guitar and a voucher for ten lessons with a local musician.” Jay stirred, turning in my arms and propping his chin on my chest, looking at me. “I remember how at first the guitar felt too big in my hands, but I was determined to master it. I went to my first proper lesson with a knot in my stomach, I was so nervous.” Jay laughed softly, shaking his head. “Turned out, I knew pretty much nothing. All that time the girl had been showing me things and I’d been doing them incorrectly, but she hadn’t bothered to correct me. So I had to start pretty much from the beginning, and get rid of my annoying habits on top of that.”
“You must have really loved playing if you were so determined, at that age,” I said, stroking Jay’s jaw with a finger.
“Yeah, I was. But there was something else.” Jay’s mouth quirked into a devilish smirk. “The moment I set foot into the studio for my first lesson, I knew for sure I was gay.”
I snorted. “Was the teacher really hot?”
“My god, yes!” Jay exclaimed, excitement making his eyes sparkle. “He looked like a proper rock star – long hair, tattoos, a cigarette in his mouth. I had a huge crush on him for years.”
“For years?”
“Yeah. My mum paid for more lessons after the initial ten, but Josh and I had become good friends by then, and after about a year I stopped officially having lessons and we’d just get together as friends and hang out. I was only fourteen but he never treated me like some kid who didn’t know the first thing about music. We talked a lot and we played a lot, and he even gave me advice on my singing.” Jay’s eyes grew sad as he reached the end of his story. “He moved to America when I was sixteen, and I never saw him again.”
I cupped his cheek, hating the sad look in his eyes. Jay shook his head and closed his eyes as if to disperse the memories.
“Anyway. When Josh moved away something inside me snapped. I needed to come out, especially to my family. I knew they weren’t homophobes or anything, so I knew they’d take it in stride, but I was so nervous. For weeks I practised what I was going to say and imagined the perfect moment to say it, but it never came. And then one evening after dinner my mum asked me to play something for them. So I did. I played Queen’s Somebody to Love and when I was done everyone started at me, probably shocked by the emotion I put behind that performance, and I just said it. I told them I was gay.”
I felt a lump lodge in my throat. “What happened?” I rasped, my voice barely working.
Jay shrugged. “Not much. Will and Soph hugged me and said they already knew, and it didn't matter to them at all, and so did Mum. Dad was a bit more reserved, but he said he admired my courage to be myself at such a young age. Which, by the way, I find ironic when he spent the next few years drilling into me how music and art were a hobby and I should have a proper job.”
Jay sighed in annoyance, but didn't seem overly upset about it. He studied me, his brows furrowed when he saw the expression on my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. Jay inclined his head, waiting for me to continue. “I was just thinking how different my coming out experience was.”
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
I couldn't believe I was about to tell him this. I never planned on dragging Jay into my family’s dirty laundry, but the words just tumbled out of my mouth.
“Your folks didn’t take it well?” Jay asked, his frown deepening.
“My mum was fine with it.” I looked away, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“And your dad?” Jay asked cautiously.
“He...” God, just thinking about it made me want to dig myself a deep hole and never come out. But Jay was looking at me with concern, and interest, and compassion – god, so much compassion – that I had no choice but to tell him the whole ugly truth. “He caught me making out with a guy in my room when we were supposed to be studying. He chased my friend out of the house, then beat the shit out of me.”
Jay took a sharp breath, his eyes widening. He was shocked beyond words, so I continued.
“He kept repeating what a disgrace to his family name I was, how his only son can’t be a filthy faggot.” I closed my eyes against the anguish on Jay’s face. He didn’t need any more details. I’d said too much already. “My mum came home right then and tried to stop him, but he attacked her, too. He totally lost it.”
“Dear god...” Jay whispered.
“The neighbours heard all the screaming and called the police. They knocked the door down and arrested my dad, effectively saving our lives. I don't think he’d have stopped.”
“Where is he now?” Jay asked.
“I have no idea.”
Jay raised his eyebrows in question.
“I haven’t seen him since that day. The first thing Mum did when we were released from hospital was file for divorce.”
“He didn’t go to prison?”
“No. My mum doesn’t want to talk about it, but I suspect Dad turned to his rich parents in Delhi and they hired lawyers, getting him off the hook. When his family sent their eldest son to study in Cambridge, they didn't expect him to marry an English girl. They never approved of the marriage, waited for the slightest bump in the road to get rid of Mum and claim their son back.” I shook my head, my anger bubbling to the surface. Jay stroked my chest as if to calm me down before I continued. “They paid Mum off not to press any charges, or, in any circumstances, contact Dad again.”
“And she agreed?”
I shrugged. “She did. She thought she was doing what was best for me. She put all the money into a savings account for me.”
“Where’s your mum now?” Jay asked, a cautious note creeping into his tone.
“She moved to Dorset shortly after I enlisted. Been living there since, still teaching. She loves kids.”
“She never remarried?”
“No. She’s in her fifties now, but still so beautiful. She used to really turn heads when she was younger. It’s not like she didn't have any admirers. But she couldn't find it in herself to trust a man again.”
Jay looked away, laying his head back on my chest, visibly shaken by my story. I threaded my fingers through his hair and we stayed like that for a while. He probably needed to process it all and I didn’t push him.
I could tell by the little glimpses Jay had shown me of his life and his family that he’d been safe – protected – all his life. He’d never been hurt like I had, never been through what I had, and his reality was as different to mine as it got.
I was glad.
I had a feeling his experience with other men had been far from perfect, and yet, not brutal in any way. The protective instinct I harboured towards Jay grew stronger, making me promise myself that I’d never hurt him. I wanted to keep him the way he was – innocent, and fragile, and so, so good. I wanted to keep his world as safe and beautiful as it could possibly be, keeping all the darkness out.
“Is that why you enlisted?” Jay asked quietly, his fingers caressing my side.
“Yeah,” I said with a heavy sigh. “I needed to prove to him I was as much of a man as he was. That he was wrong.” I had to pause, the memories of that time darkening my mind. It was really strange how we could forget the words, even the actions, but we always remembered exactly how we’d felt. “I hated being gay. It took me a long time to come to terms with my sexuality, with who I was as a person.”
I fell silent, a jumble of memories and emotions floating in my mind, pulling me back to a time I had no intention revisiting.
“Amir?” Jay said, without lifting his head off my chest. I hummed, enjoying the way his voice could drag me out of my thoughts and anchor me to the present. “Stay with me tonight?”
His fist clenched around my t-shirt as if trying to keep me close. It’d be a bitch to take a shower in his unequipped bathroom, and wake up at least an hour early to go home before work, and I’d probably have to borrow a pair of boxers...
Fuck it. The plea in Jay’s voice was enough to make all the mundane inconveniences melt away.
“Okay,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll stay.”