Shooting Clouds

Chapter 20 (Lance)

I heard  Aiden turn the water on and after a couple seconds, when I was sure enough he couldn't hear me, I let my anger flow down my face but restrained from letting it resonate through my bedroom walls. Instead I grabbed my football bag and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud boom then fell to the floor in defeat.  I ripped my new brown dresser open and furiously scrumaged through it. I pulled out one of my old football shirts and some blue plaid pajama pants. When I pick up a pair of underwear I hesitate. He was going to be wearing my underwear. It wasn't a particularly unpleasant thought but it made me feel awkward. I wondered if he'd react the same way as me. I grabbed the clothes and headed to the bathroom. The water was still running so I quietly snuck in and laid the clothes on the counter. It was surprisingly hot in the bathroom. The mirror was heavily fogged and the counters were wet. My eyes glided over to the blue shut curtains. My breath caught when I could see the outline of his body. That lovely thin frame of his. Without a second thought my hand was on the cold damp knob and I was making my escape.

I sat on my bed trying to keep my thoughts from scurrying back to a couple of minutes ago. The water stopped running and my eyes were glued to the mahogany polished door, waiting for his arrival. It took him an unusually long time to finally open the door. He stood their, slightly drowning in my clothes. A faint blush painted his cheeks as he saw me staring at him. His damp hair partially obscured his eyes and his naked shoulder glistened in the bedroom light as my shirt sagged on his thin frame.

"Is something wrong?"

Clearing my throat, I answered with a stammer that would rival Porky Pig himself. "Of course not, it's just I've never seen you wet before." As soon as the words left my lips I wanted to punch myself for not stopping there idiotic implications. "I mean, you know. Like in the shower. I mean out of the shower. Wet with water of course. What else would I mean?" By this time my countenance was almost as flushed as his. "I'm just gonna stop talking." I said, taking my seat.

"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here?"

"Yeah. My mom wouldn't have a problem with it. Make yourself at home." The thought of his home crossed my mind and again I felt like an idiot. "What I meant was-"

"Don't worry about it. I know what you meant. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me y'know? The worst thing about someone knowing is that it changes everything. I'm not any different than I was before so please treat me the way you did when you didn't know."

"Sorry. It's not easy.....knowing."

"If it were up to me, you never would've found out."

"Why? I'm your boyfriend, don't you think that's something I need to know."

He took a seat next to me and I could see the anguish in his eyes. "No. What difference would it make anyways? Whether you know or not there's nothing either one of us can do about it. Nothings going to change." His eyes fell to his writhing hands.

I took his hands in mine and the pain in my chest returned with vengeance. "Don't say that. I'm not just gonna idly stand by while my boyfriend is suffering at the hands of that perverted asshole!" I felt my voice tremble, reflecting what was going throughout my body. I shook with anger at the thought of Aiden being hurt again. "We'll figure something out." With that, I kissed him on the forehead and rose to prepare for my own shower.

As I gathered my clothes, I noticed his eyes remained fixated on his restless hands. He was scared and he had every reason to be. After putting my clothes in the bathroom I returned to offer him the only peace I could. Kneeling down in front of him, I cupped his face in my hands, willing his eyes to meet mine and after a brief moment they did. They were wet with reluctant tears that softened my heart to the point of ruin. What could I possibly say to him? "It will be okay. Alright?" He stared with no intention of replying. "Alright?" I repeated in an attempt to coax an answer out of him.

"Yeah. Sure."

His response was empty of thought and belief. Was I expecting anything else? How can I expect him to believe that when I myself was bursting with doubt. I gave him a brief kiss then made my way to the bathroom. I put all unwanted thoughts to the back of my mind so that there is a nick of a chance that I might pull through this night with a decent amount of sleep and comfort.

As the water flooded down my bare back, the emotions from earlier came flooding with it. All the anger and frustration filled me. I tried to calm myself by regulating my breathing but it did nothing to abate my anger. I let the water pour over my face yet the fury continued to swell to an uncontrollable magnitude. I felt numb with it spreading to every fragment of my being.  Before I knew it, crimson spilled down the knuckles of my right hand and chunks of the once white tiles in front of me were now at my feet.

After letting out a deep sigh, I turned the water off, grabbed my towel, and sat on the edge of the tub staring at my hand. I was shaking. Unaware of time, I sat and pondered on the events of the day. A stinging pain woke me from my thoughts and reminded me of the scrapes and cuts I would have to explain. I got up and walked to the sink, still with nothing on but my towel firmly wrapped around my waist. The pain intensified as cold water roughly washed away the blood. The wound looked ragged and unsightly. I rummaged through the mirror cabinet and pulled out some first-aid supplies: bandages, alcohol, tweezers, cotton balls and gauze.

Unfortunately enough for me, some shards of the tile were embedded in my hand. I took the tweezers and gently and carefully extracted them then deposited them in the trash can underneath the sink. The next part I loathed because it was by far the worst. Hesitantly I grabbed a cotton ball from its plastic home and popped the cap on the alcohol. With a snakes hiss, I pressed the alcohol soaked cotton ball onto my wound and dabbed it across my damaged flesh. It seemed futile to proceed in this way so I decided to rip the band aid off and pour alcohol straight from the bottle onto my knuckles. I groaned at the searing pain that erupted through my hand and let out a sigh of relief when it finally subsided. I took the bandages and carefully wrapped my hand then put on plaid pajama pants.

After I took care of all my bathroom duties I opened the door to find Aiden asleep in the same spot I left him. I walked over taking in how peaceful he looked. Not wanting to disturb him, I wrapped him in the bed cover on top of the blue sheet  Aiden was lying on, gently grabbed his waist and slowly pulled him away from the edge of the bed. I could've died from the proximity of his person and the little space I let flow between us. I took in his scent, steady heartbeat, rhythmic breaths. I tucked in beside him. My arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him into me. His body fit into mine perfectly.