Shattered

Communication Breakdown

Mayson, who was preparing dinner as promised, gasped and spun around at the blood-curdling scream, the knife in his hand cutting him in the process.  He ran fast as he could and burst through the open bedroom doorway and through the bathroom door. He pulled open the shower curtain to find Jonathan curled up in the corner, his hands and arms covering his head, as if expecting to come to blows by a terrifying force, his forehead pressed against his knees. He screamed again when he was exposed to Mayson's towering height. Jonathan was eight years old again, and Daddy had come.

"Jonny..." Mayson dare not touch him, he knew what this was. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fortifying his resolve. "Jonny, I'm gonna get you a towel, okay?"

Without waiting for a response Mayson stood and grabbed a towel from the closet before kneeling back down. He shut off the water, ignoring best he could the whimpers escaping Jonathan's cowering form.

"Jonny, it's me, Mayson. Come on, love, can you look at me? Just look up enough to take the towel so you can dry off...then I'll go get you some clothes, okay?" He spoke as softly as he could, keeping the panic from his voice; though he couldn't say how. Jonathan did eventually look up and tentatively take the towel.

Mayson smiled sadly. "I'll go get you some clothes." He turned exiting the room.

Jonathan watched him go making sure he was out of sight before he dried off, then wrapped the towel around his waist. He stepped out of the tub just as Mayson came back with fresh clothes. "Here. You look cold...so I, uh, b-brought you warm clothes and a pair of socks."

He placed them on the rim of the sink and took a deep breath before slowly releasing it. "I'll be right outside in case you need me."

When next Jonathan became fully aware of what was going on in the now instead of the then, it was well into the night. Mayson lay next to him, his eyes closed, a worried frown marring his brow. Jonathan reached out and touched Mayson's arm, softly whispering his name. Mayson's frown deepened but he didn't respond. He was asleep. Suddenly needing to feel Mayson in his arms, he shifted until he was completely wrapped around the younger man. Mayson whimpered before wrapping his arms around Jonathan. When Jonathan felt a small kiss to the top of his head, he knew Mayson had woken up.

He couldn't speak, and Mayson didn't ask him to. Visions of the day began slamming into his mind, pounding his emotions with an iron fist. He remembered the events that lead to right now, in the shower with Mayson, and he wanted suddenly to bolt from Mayson's embrace but wanted so badly to feel his protective hold.

Mayson turned so he lay facing Jonathan on his side. Gingerly he reached up and swiped away tears Jonathan didn't realize were falling. Almost hesitantly Mayson leaned forward, brushing his lips slightly against Jonathan's.

His lips trembled through the kiss, but he didn't pull away.

Mayson leaned his forehead gently against Jonathan's and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jonny."

Jonathan didn't answer. He couldn't. He just stared as Mayson's face contorted in a pain Jonathan was sure he'd never seen on the other man.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan. I didn't..." He trailed off and shook his head, his eyes slipping closed. It was as if his thoughts interrupted his apologies.

Your meaning is immaterial. Look at him. You did that to him. You did that because you're fucking selfish. You're just like your mother, Mayson. Just like his father...how can you expect him to love you after this?

Mayson departed all contact with Jonathan as his mind berated him in the worst ways. He sobbed once loudly, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. Tears ran down his face and clouded his vision. "I'm sorry. I kn-know y-you hate," his throat closed and he blinked, "h-hate m-me...I'm sorry, Jonny. God, I'm so sorry."