Silent

37. He's a monster.

Michael hadn't heard a word from Sam for three whole days, and though he knew he shouldn't be surprised, it still hurt. Jean seemed all too pleased; Michael knew how feverishly the man wanted to gloat: I told you so!

Michael didn't feel comfortable at home with Jean. It was of course long since he had last felt that comfort, but now he found no escape from the pressuring feeling in his mind. 

Work was his getaway. He was calm at work, and he got his thoughts focused on other things.

It was more and more often that he thought about leaving Jean; could he really do it? Walk away and start over? Would Eric help him even if the man was Jean's friend? – Michael wasn't sure. He hesitated but longed to feel the freedom he had desired since Ricky first took it.

Could he live alone? Would he make it alone? What if Ricky came back?

More than anything, he hoped he could return home. He wished he dared to call his parents, but fear stopped him every time he even considered it. Fear of what they might say and, more than anything, the fear of Ricky.

Sam was also constantly on his mind. He missed him and Kitty. Missed the time in their company where he had been able to pretend, even to himself, that he was just like any other. A young man in a foreign city desiring to become a chef one day. A young man whose past was much prettier than the horrors of the reality.

He didn't think Sam would return. Therefore, while working that rainy afternoon, Michael nearly dropped the tray he was carrying when he saw Sam outside the restaurant. The blond man was looking inside, searching, it seemed. And when their eyes met, Sam smiled softly, embarrassed almost, before heading towards the front entrance.

Michael felt his heart pound and continued his way behind the bar to serve a customer who was waiting. He heard the bells as Sam entered and at a quick glance saw him there. He diverted his attention back at the grey haired, elderly man who ordered a beer and smiled at him, only because his role was to be polite. He could sense Sam's approaching even though he tried not to look, because it made him too nervous to do so now when he needed to focus on the customer before him.

Michael handed the man his beer, charged him, and kept the polite smile. Inside his heart was still pounding, Sam was there, he felt him there... And... He hoped and he feared at the same time. Perhaps Sam had come, only for the final talk, final goodbye... or maybe... 

The customer left and Michael looked back at Sam. He saw the sadness in those blue eyes and wasn't entirely sure of the reason. His heart pounded. 

"What can I get you?" He asked, because that was his role here, serving customers. But his voice betrayed him and revealed how nervous he was, because Sam wasn't just any customer. Sam was his dream, who was all too real and unreachable at the same time to his dark reality. 

"A pint of lager, thank you," Sam then answered and took a seat.

Michael nodded, his heart still pounded, he could feel himself shivering and wondered if it was visible. Why was he this nervous?  Silently he poured the drink for Sam, settling the glass in front of him before cashing him. "When will your shift end? We need to talk," Sam said looking at him intently.

Michael hesitated. "I'll get off in an hour," he finally replied. Their gazes met, and to Michael's surprise, Sam smiled fondly.

"Would you come over to my place so we can talk in peace?"

Michael gave him an almost startled look. He hadn't visited Sam before; they had always met elsewhere and now... Did Sam invite him because he knew he was a whore and maybe now imagined that...? But Michael dreamt of being someone more important. He was done with that role.