Silent

34. Few things in life are fair.

Michael opened his eyes slowly. The sunlight warmed his face and the sounds of traffic echoed from the street; the noise seeming to grow louder with each minute. He felt exhausted. There had been another fight and the bedside next to him was empty. Jean was sleeping on the couch, probably suffering from a hangover.

Michael had barely slept, his head ached, and he didn't even have the strength to cry. "Get up," he whispered to himself and thought about the dinner with Sam to gather the strength to move.

Jean hadn't hit him this time, but it had been close. Michael had told him about Samuel. Told about his new friend, and for an infinitesimal moment, he had felt the deceiving hope that Jean could be happy for him after all. But no, Jean wasn't happy. He had been furious.

 Sam couldn't be good because he had made Michael late for what he had promised. Michael knew Jean intended to forbid him from seeing Sam again; Jean would forbid life from him.

Michael sat up on the edge of the bed and gazed out from the window. He didn't want to let go. 

Ricky had already stolen so many years from his youth and Michael didn't want to give up on the chance of being happy now, living the life a young person his age should. He wanted to keep his newfound friendship; Jean couldn't take that from him. With this thought firmly on his mind Michael rose to his feet, got dressed, and slowly walked towards the kitchen. On his way, he glanced at his partner who lay on the couch, an almost empty bottle of whiskey on the table next to him, an empty glass next to it. Michael shook his head in contempt and continued his way

"Chéri," the hoarse voice called from the couch. Michael poured water into the heather. He gritted his teeth but didn't reply and so the man called a second time.

"What?" His tone was tired and fed up. He heard a knock from the living room, Jean cursed and Michael felt himself tensing up.

"Can you make me a cup of coffee?" Jean asked. Michael pressed the water heater on and looked for the coffee grounds from the cupboard. He didn't even have the strength to answer, he could feel his anxiety growing, tears rose to his eyes. This was one of those mornings when everything felt so incredibly hard. 

Last night when he had been dining out with Sam, it had felt like he had been given a taste of something he could never fully have anymore and it only left him thirsty for another taste of it. He yearned to be normal, yearned to be like most people.

Michael heard the steps approaching the kitchen and quickly wiped his eyes trying to pull himself together. He took two mugs from the cupboard above the sink and placed them on the table. Then he walked to the fridge and started taking out ingredients to make breakfast. He could feel Jean staring at him from the doorway.

"Chéri," Jean whispered, his voice filled with worry and regret. "Please talk to me," he asked, sounding almost like a regretful child. "I shouldn't have shouted at you." Michael stopped for a second and drew a deep breath, his shoulders felt heavy. He heard as Jean drew closer to him and turned his head to the side taking a sideways glance at his lover.

"No, you shouldn't have." He whispered. "I did nothing to deserve it," he added with sudden courage. Jean stood behind him, hesitated and Michael could feel how badly Jean wanted to touch him. "You need to give me space to live my own life too, you need to allow me to have friends of my own. You promised me, you promised that I could be free with you. Did that promise already escape your mind?" He asked quietly. Jean sighed, stepped closer, and lowered his hand on his shoulder.

"Chéri... I love you, I'm concerned and that's why I yell sometimes," Jean replied. Only it wasn't just sometimes it was too often, Michael thought. Jean kissed his neck and brought his hands to Michael's stomach.