Page 70 of Open Water

“You might, and then, your Dad will get pissed off with me being here all the time and leaving my shit around the house. Tilda’s Dad said…”

“You have met my Dad, haven’t you?” I interrupt him. “The dude who thinks the sun shines out of your arse? He adores you, and there are not many people he likes. He’s a bit like me. People kind of scare him, but when he likes someone, he smothers them with love until they run away screaming for mercy.”

I’m exaggerating a little, of course, but he needs to hear it. And it’s true. My Dad is, like, in awe of Matteo, going all gooey-eyed, when he’s in the room. He would never chuck Matteo out, unless he did something super shitty. Which he never would. So, everything is chill.

“I love you,” I say again, and it’s true. I do. I don’t mind saying it out loud. “Which means my Dad has to love you, too, because otherwise I’ll kick his skinny arse. Simple. You already have two people in your family. And then, there is Lukas, and if they have another kid… shit Matteo, I didn’t even realise they had a thing going on, and more kids? That scares me more than anything. How the hell will that work?”

“Don’t stress about it, Pumpkin,” He laughs, looking a little more like himself. His eyes glittering in the soft light from the bedside lamp. “Anyway, Lukas is a nice guy, he has been good to me. He kind of helped me out last year when I was feeling really shitty and needed to vent to someone who would kind of understand. I had no one to talk to about stuff, and I knew Lukas was gay, so I kind of turned up before class one day and word vomited shit all over him, and kind of cried into his bottle of orange juice. It wasn’t my finest moment, but he has never said a word about it, or brought it up again, apart from that, he started the Queer group a week later, and told me we would make surenobodywould feel there was no one to talk to about things like that.”

“You came out to Lukas? To a teacher.” I say that more like a statement, because I’m kind of mortified that I didn’t know. That I spent all that time crushing on him and not knowing anything important about him. I should have tried harder. Asked around. I should have fucking talked to him. Gotten to know him.

“Yeah. Normal kids come out to their parents I suppose, but I didn’t have anyone who cared what the hell I did, and sometimes you kind of need someone to listen, if you see what I mean?”

I just nod. There is so much I don’t know about him. So many questions.

“Do you think we will be together forever? Like grow wrinkly and old together?” Another stupid question, but right now, I need to know. I want to. What’s the point otherwise? I don’t want to go crushing on anyone else and go through the horrible heartbreak of not knowing if the person you want even knows that you exist. No, this is it for me. I’m done. I’ve got Matteo, and I can’t even imagine not growing old with him.

“Yeah. We will. You and I. I mean, how many people are as lucky as us? That we actually found each other and were both kind of gone for each other before we even knew that we were a thing?”

I don’t think that bit makes sense, but I kind of laugh anyway. I know what he means.

“Do you think people meet, like, at our age and actually make it? I mean, we have another year of school, then Uni, and we need to get jobs, and start a family. The whole forever thing seems just so infinite right now?”

“You forgot getting married and buying our first home and all that stuff, Pumpkin. There is so much we have to do, but yeah. We will make it. My parents met when they were fifteen, and they made it. They loved each other. Well, from what I remember.”

He falls quiet again. I don’t ask.

“One day, when you are ready, talk to me,” I whisper. “I will listen. I will always listen.”

He nods into my chest, curling into me until he’s where he needs to be, and I fold the duvet around us both.

“Love you,” I whisper into his hair.

His arms just squeeze me tighter.

“What was that thing you said about Simon Vasquez?” I half mumble into his hair.

“Oh, his exam play?” Matteo giggles softly. “He wrote a whole play about pussy. And how to go down on girls. I read it, it’s so disgusting. It’s all about this dude who lives in a vagina and licks it. He was top of his class that year. Graduated with honours… whatever that means. Fuck knows why.”

“Urgh,” I blurt out. I might give that a miss.

“Yeah,” Matteo slurs. “Put me right off girls. Not for me. Cock all the way for me, I think. Your cock.”

He snuggles into my skin. My nakedness against his clothes. Well, except my legs are twirled around his hairy legs. My toes against his socked feet.

Just the two of us. Right here. Right now.

It’s pretty much perfect.

TOM

He’s hardly slept. Well he has, but it’s been broken. His bed feeling empty and strange, which it shouldn’t since Tom sleeps in his bed all the time, on his own, but he knows Lukas was there, and now, he just can’t kick him out. Like the ghost of him is still lingering between the sheets. He can still feel the weight of him against his back. Like some phantom limb that he’s somehow lost. He aches for him. Which is crazy, but then Tom has never been sane. He’s always been a mess of thoughts and ideas and surges of creativity that fall into the depths of lows where he can barely get out of bed.

He’s still up too early, sitting on the damn box outside with his second coffee of the day, coupled with his third cigarette nervously glowing between his fingers.

It’s going to be a beautiful day, the sky clear and the sun already high in the sky, bathing the world in light and warmth. Perfect spring weather. Tom should be happy, yet he is nervous and twitchy and feeling strangely down.

“Hi.”

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