To You and Back

Chapter 12: Rain and Two Confessions

Rain fell from a heavy gray sky, its low clouds lit intermittently by flashes of lightening, followed by low rumbles of thunder. On the upper floor of an apartment building, behind one of the yellow rectangles of light, pass blue-grey curtains parted in the middle, red wine flowed smoothly into a glass on top of a table.

Charlie sat with one palm propping up his face, lightly gripped the rim of his wine glass with the tips of his fingers and swirling the splash of liquid around the bowl atop the stem. His mind was far away, occupied with many thoughts that made his head feel as heavy as the clouds outside. But unlike the clouds releasing their rain, he could not release his burden so easily.

"...arlie." A sound from far away, muffled, and dull. "..harlie. Charlie!"

The dullness sharpening into the sound of rain splashing intermittently on the glass of the window and the low notes of smooth jazz, Charlie looked up into green eyes and a handsome face with a neatly trimmed scruff. He and Keenan were sitting opposite each other in a dark wooden alcove, on benches with grey and white checkered seat cushions, and a nautical style table in the middle. The intimate space was lit only by two bronze scones, one above each of their heads, throwing dim yellow light. Sitting opposite him across the dark wooden table, Keenan rose thick brown brows as he held up a bottle of wine.

"What?" Charlie asked. "Sorry."

"I asked if you wanted to finish the bottle," Keenan said.

"Oh. No. I'm driving."

"In this rain?" Keenan asked. Charlie didn't respond, his gaze once more drifting down to his glass. Keenan set the bottle down to the side. Charlie had been this way all through dinner—which Keenan had cooked—and through clean-up, and it was time to address it. "Something wrong?" Keenan asked. "You've been preoccupied all night."

"Sorry," Charlie said. "I know." He offered no explanation.

Keenan sipped his wine. "Does this have anything to do with the other person you're seeing?"

Blue eyes looked up at him, not surprised, only tired. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because," Keenan said, sitting forward and crossing his arms on the table, "if it was about work or family, you'd tell me. If it was something more serious, like your health, or finances, you wouldn't have come over. So, it can only be romantic."

Charlie could not help the scoff that escaped him. "I'd hardly call it romantic," he muttered.

"What would you call it?"

Charlie looked down at his glass. "Confusing."

Keenan looked at him, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as his mind worked on what that meant for him. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

"It wouldn't be weird. I am your friend, too."

"I know." Charlie gave a brief smile. "It's just...I can't."

Keenan smiled and nodded. "I understand," he said. Sitting back, he brought his glass up to his lips, thinking. He'd known Charlie was seeing someone else, but it never seemed serious; Charlie was always available when he asked for a date, and there was nothing in his apartment that gave away the presence of another having been there. Keenan had taken them as good signs, but this preoccupation was not. It meant this other person was on Charlie's mind, and that was far from good.

Keenan set his glass down without taking a drink and sat forward once more. "Charlie," he said, because the other man was drifting away once more. When blue eyes looked up, he held them with an earnest gaze. "The truth is, I wanted to see you tonight because I wanted to talk about us."