Comfortable Silence |Virgato|

Chapter 17

All it takes for them to be completely alone is a ten-minute walk to the edge of the lake. It's just cold enough and just dark enough that the lakefront is completely empty, distant neighbors tucked warm and safe inside. There's a lingering scent of fading embers drifting through the air, remnants of a bonfire or cookout that probably only ended a few minutes ago, but there's no other sign humans have been anywhere near the lake in hours, days, decades.

Chris spreads a blanket in the sandy brush and plops down, reaching one hand eagerly toward Joel. There's no ice in the cooler, but the beer bottles feel frozen against Joel's palm as he reaches in and grabs one, holding it out to Chris.

Smiling, Chris takes it, but grabs Joel's empty hand before he can pull it away and tugs Joel down next to him, the cooler bumping awkwardly against Joel's knees. "That's what I actually wanted, but thanks for the drink," he says, deftly popping the beer open on the edge of the cooler and then shoving it out of the way with his foot so he can scoot closer to Joel. "So, I was thinking." He takes a drink, then hands the bottle to Joel, leaning in like he's going to tell a secret.

He's looking at Joel expectantly, so Joel takes a drink, too. "You were thinking?" In the darkness, it's hard to see what's happening behind Chris's eyes.

"If you ever want to, I'd-" Chris pauses, studying his hands, thumb rubbing over chipped nail polish on the pointer finger of his opposite hand. Nail polish Joel had painted on for him two weekends ago. Still clinging to Chris's fingernail despite the scratches and scrapes from wear and tear. "You can talk to me. About your ex. If you want. It won't make me uncomfortable."

Ah, so Chris noticed the blowjob conversation made Joel a little tense. It's not something Joel's used to - someone paying attention to him, being aware of what's going on in his head, actively trying to make him more comfortable.

It wasn't this way with The Ex. Because even though he knew all of Joel's insecurities, all of the things Joel was sensitive about, he didn't make an effort to make it any easier on Joel. Instead, he would use that knowledge to tease Joel, or to make "funny" conversation with friends, not realizing that every time he did it, he chipped away a piece of Joel's confidence and pushed him further into his shell.

For The Ex, it was a misguided attempt at showing how well they knew each other, and the strength of their relationship - it didn't matter what he said, because he loved Joel! - and if Joel called him on it, it became A Thing. A big conversation. An emotional effort. And then nothing changed. So, after a while, Joel stopped trying. He just tolerated it.

Chris's mere acknowledgement of Joel's feelings is such an unexpected thing, it makes Joel lose his breath, catching in his throat like a sob. Swallowing, he pushes it back down, but now his chest feels lighter, and his voice is surprisingly steady when he says, "I don't really have a lot to say about him, I guess."

Lots of thoughts, but he's not convinced he can organize them in a way that will make any sense. Especially not while he's also dealing with this overwhelming emotional reaction to someone actively caring about his comfort. Yikes.

"After all that time together?" It's a careful prompt, an attempt to entice Joel to feel comfortable saying more. I want to hear what you have to say, but I understand if you don't want to talk about it. Joel can hear all of it.

He sets the beer bottle in the sand behind them, twisting it into a sandy trench for safekeeping. He shrugs, and he tries. Because he does want to talk about it, in theory, if only he could find the right words. "Towards the end it got hard to remember the good things." He looks at Chris, who shivers in the breeze, tucking his hands into his sleeves. "But it wasn't bad bad. It just wasn't good. Lots of little things. Nothing that mattered on its own."