Con Brio: Todd and Ian's story

62

Todd has long since gone to sleep, and Ian lies still and tries not to wake him up. The high he felt just after he hung up on his dad has worn off now and suddenly the room seems full of ghosts. 
You fuckwit. Faggot. This is how you repay me? 
His dad's harsh words float around his brain, and try as he might he can't forget them. And no matter how weak he feels for even caring, he can't help it, the tears are coming, flowing down his cheeks already, his chest tense with the sobs he won't let out, because Todd is asleep, and should stay that way. And look, he shouldn't cry, anyway. Why would he cry? Shouldn't he have done this ages ago? That house... that house, so full of shouting, of neglect. Drunk people, strangers crashing on dirty sofas with makeshift tourniquets on their arms, high on some drug or other. That's what has always mattered to his parents. 
Not him. 
Then why cry now? 
But the tears flow anyway, and the ghosts come closer. Not even Todd, breathing deeply, sleeping peacefully, can keep them away. He knows, somewhere, what he promised, but what is he going to say? Hey, Todd, I'm feeling particularly weak right now, can you just fix my shit for me? Again? 
But...
Todd asked. And he meant it. In fact... he made him promise. So Ian takes a deep breath, and on a whim he puts his hand on Todd's shoulder and squeezes. He wakes up instantly. 
"Baby. You okay?"
Ian doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to.
"Oh, baby..."
Todd turns around and Ian is in his arms already, his face nestling in the nook of Todd's neck. He sobs quietly, but Todd's warm scent starts to calm him down. 
"Did it catch up with you?" Todd whispers. Ian nods. 
"It's so stupid." he hisses. 
"No, it's not. They're your parents. It's a huge step."
"It hurts, Toddy." Ian sobs. "Fuck, it hurts."
"I know, I know. I'm here."
It does hurt so bad. It's like it's physical, this pain pulling through his system, wrenching him, wringing him. He gasps for breath as the enormity of it all washes over him. 
"I never want to see him, ever again." he gulps. 
"Okay. That's okay. I'll be here."
"He called me a faggot."
"I know." Todd says calmly. "Anyone else who ever does that is going to get punched in the face by me."
Somehow that breaks it and a disbelieving giggle escapes Ian's lips as he pictures Todd taking on any adversary for him. 
And he would. He knows. 
So would he, for him. 
"Oh, Toddy." he sighs as the tears stop flowing. He grabs his stomach, that's taut with tension, but the worst pain is subsiding. Flowing away, to somewhere really gone, where he won't feel it anymore. "My belly hurts."
Todd is stroking his hair, down his neck, all the way to his lower back, and back up again. It's soothing. He moves now though, and his large, warm hand rests on Ian's naked belly. They never did get round to putting clothes on, last night. It feels like last night was ten years ago. 
"There?"
Ian nods. 
"It's getting better though."
Todd is rubbing softly, gentle circular motions, and Ian grunts and moves a little so Todd has easier access. 
"That helps." he whispers. 
"Good." 
Ian lies back with his eyes fixed on the ceiling and tries not to see the horrid images anymore, but they are insistant, coming up bit by bit like there's one of those old projectors in the room with them, hiding behind the bed, throwing the images onto shady white, as if they need to show themselves one more time before flying away at last. But Todd's hand keeps rubbing, and it's like he's rubbing his belly clean, rubbing the pain away, helping him get out of the memories he so desperately wants to forget and back into this precious moment. They are silent, now, and Ian takes a deep breath, that somehow seems to go deeper than he's used to, oxygen flowing into unchartered waters. He sighs again as an almost dreamlike state comes over him. It's just him, and Todd, and Todd's hand.
And that's when the mood changes.