Mint and apricots

27. Just a slap

Sam held his breath starting from the base of the stairs to the moment he could close the door to Gabriel's room behind himself. It was a desperate strategy, improvised in an attempt to keep from turning and running away, but, incredibly, it worked.

Sam followed Luc without a word of protest, repeating to himself who knows what distracting mantra – just do it, just do it, just do it – to avoid asking himself useless questions. He had agreed to do it, he was already there. He couldn't afford to let Luc down, not again.

Once inside, he took a few seconds to catch his breath and take a look around. That surely would have helped with the panic he felt rising in his chest, he told himself, it would have worked as a distraction from the doubts that were making the soles of his feet so itchy.

With a single glance he embraced the whole bedroom, from the window with the white curtains on the left to the chest of drawers made of tanned, antique wood, which Sam found on his right. In the middle, a room which had obviously been tidied up for guests: a white wardrobe and the double bed that had been made without letting a single crease on the sheets, with a blanket with autumn patterns and colors on it.

Above the mattress, not too high, were three shelves holding some more books, an aloe plant, a box covered with unlabeled fabric and some photo frames – from a distance, Sam was able to recognize some bright smiling faces: Gabriel's, a man's and woman's who might have been his parents, and an older picture of an enthusiastic teenage Gabriel, dressed in mountain gear and with a little girl – she might have been one year old at most – peeking out of his backpack.

Sam ignored Luc and the hasty gesture with which he got rid of his cashmere sweater and instead took a few steps towards the opposite side of the room, ending up stopping in front of the only painting decorating the space: it was the portrait of a woman with big and fleeting eyes, with her face half hidden by a veil that seemed destined to get lost in the wind and her hair dyed a thousand different colors. Sam was so engrossed in the contemplation that, when Luc came to his back to wrap his arms around his waist and kiss his neck, the younger boy almost escaped his touch. His gasp, however, was not lucky enough to go unnoticed and Luc just raised his head, confused and indignant.

"Well, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Sam closed his eyes and asked himself the same question as his folded arms stiffened even more – it was just so cold in that room.

What was happening to him? He actually knew. He knew he was still uneasy about that deal which was not a solution, but he knew even better that what really had given a decisive boost to his rampant feeling of unease was the way in which Luc had approached him downstairs. And Gabriel's stunned eyes.

God, he had felt so ashamed. But he certainly could not tell Luc that, because his boyfriend would have misread everything, he would have recognized tragedies where there were none – or perhaps he would have simply got furious, seeing his right to do as he preferred violated. And Sam would have done anything to avoid another fight with Luc, but his partner was waiting for an answer and he had used up all the time available to stop and think.

"You arrived late," he then instinctively pulled out, reopening his eyes but refusing to turn around to meet Luc's gaze.

If he had, Luc would have recognized the lie just by looking into his eyes. It was better to just continue observing the infinite brush strokes of the painting that covered most of the wall, until he eventually would have got lost in it, if necessary. Behind him, Sam felt Luc take a step backward and braced himself for what was to come.

"So what?" Luc retorted, piqued, and Sam squeezed his own arms with more conviction than necessary.

It was certainly not the first time he happened to look for a distraction in physical pain and it wouldn't be the last.