The Fog of Fame (Len x Oliver)

Chapter 18 - Love's Trust

I sat in the tub, laid back as I watched the rising puffs of steam form the different shapes. I waved my hand in the water, breathed in, then out... my mind felt at ease.

The mist had settled in the room, everything shrouded by its white tint, it felt...

Lonely

Yes... Lonely.

It was then the door slid open. And on there Oliver stood, naked, but hidden by the mist. He stepped closer, unhesitating, and as he slowly revealed himself, I could see his ginger smile—the care in his smile.

He sat himself by the tub, beside me, and with that he announced in a low, mellow tone, "I'm here."

He took the spot beside me, then connected our hands underwater. I could see him perfectly, all his alluring features. No more mist between us. Nothing to fog, nothing to hide between our love for each other.

"Len," Oliver started, breathed. His hand was on his eye bandage, and on his face was a smile. He knew I'd love him no matter what. And I smiled too. I knew then that he trusted me, trusted me to not judge him for whatever is under.

I nodded, and as he pulled a string, the whole thing unwound, dropped into the water below. And under his bangs, I saw: his uncovered eye only half intact, stitches and scars—all of which, when alone, were certainly most gruesome.... But somehow, to me, it made him all the more beautiful.

Like a fragile flower with a lost petal... sure, it's not perfect, but it just makes him all the more precious. All the more worth protecting—all the more worth caring for.

What's he gone through? And he's still so nice to other people.

"You..." he started to tear, "you're crying..."

I... I am?

He was right... tears were escaping my eyes, dropping down my chin.

"I—I'm ugly... aren't I?" He cried, returning to his insecurities, "do... do you still want someone like me?"

Yes! But my mouth stayed shut. I took him in my arms and hugged him tight, lightly rubbing his back as I gathered will to finally break the damned paralysis and whisper by his ear, "Of course, Ollie. I love you, that will never change."

He forfeited his stance to me, bawling. He hugged me back, and by then, our bodies were fully connected—there was nothing more between us.

"Le—hh... Le... Len..." He panted, hitched, held me tight, grasped me in arms in his catharsis, "I'm so happy... I... I feel so lucky... to have you, I... Leeeen..." he cried once more.

As his crotch ground against my upper thigh, I felt my own harden, pressing into his abdomen.

But he didn't mind. No. We didn't mind. We were together. We trust each other.

He pulled back to face me, and with his final tears, with his eyes half-lidded in his cry, he finally announced, "ai shiteiru," pressing his lips onto mine, pushing me back against the tub wall. It had been our most passionate kiss: his soft lips, pressed onto mine, our bodies, touching, our arms, embracing each other. We stayed there for a couple of minutes, in the warmth of the hot tub, in the warmth of our bodies, of our love.

When Oliver pulled away, I could see his face, with his signature meek smile, with his imperfect beauty, cuteness, charm. I took the chance to touch his left face with my hand, gently caressing the remains of his left eye. My heart urged for me to return his words, to show him I loved him too, "ai shiteiru."

Oliver sat back beside me, our hands still connected, his head laid on my shoulder. It was then he muttered in a whisper, "Len, I'll get you out of here," his hand reached over to hug me once more, "I promise. I'll get us out of this Fog."

I smiled. I felt safer. "What's your plan?" I whispered back.

"Tomorrow," he merely told. "You've done so much for me, Len... it's my turn to help you."