The Dream and the Dreamer

Amir's fervent admiration for Jake was well known, documented sufficiently with the weekly episodes featuring the pair and their rather unhealthy relationship. His love was devoted at best, extremely dangerous and irresponsible at most, but generally thought as misguided and ignorant due to his past. Certainly it didn't excuse the obsession, stalking and veiled abuse. Strangely, for the most part, Jake seemed to forgive and forget, to the point of fixing things to keep Amir around. That's what stopped their Co-workers from helping, because it became utterly useless when Jake would resist. This only earns sideways glances and faint smiles now. The hypocrisy of Jake only made their eyes roll; he could yell and whine all he wanted but the problem of Amir would never be fixed by him. God knows how many doors were opened to that opportunity, to riding himself of Amir for good. Somehow, that man changed Jake over the years, to the point that their characteristics sometimes flipped and it seemed more apparent that Jake needed him. It was sad, the isolation that continued to grow between the pair and everyone else. They became more stuck in their bubble of strangeness, refusing to escape. Amir may have had a childish naivety to him, but Jake was so aware it hurt.

Today was a normal day, the weather fair and the traffic loud enough to reach the office as a soft rush. Jake sat at his desk, reading over some sketches. He listlessly sipped from a bottle of sprite. Amir was late, as per usual. In a way, he didn't mind because the silence was rare and wonderful, but it also annoyed him and in a small way, made him anxious and fidgety. He pushed this out of his mind, concentrating on the words on the screen. It was still morning; he assured himself and immediately scorned himself for actually caring.

It was well past noon and the desk in front of him was still empty. Jake, taking advantage of the peaceful silence, finished his work about forty minutes ago and he was now bored and scribbling ideas down in a spiral notebook. He kept glancing up, embarrassing himself when he realized. Streeter walked by to his desk, pausing, tapping Amir's chair, "where's he?" Streeter questioned, glancing at Jake, who made a disgusted face, "hell if I know," he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Streeter subtly rolled his eyes, "it was an innocent quest- never mind, here he is," gesturing behind Jake. He started to turn, but stopped, returning to facing his desk, a light red flushing over his features as he dipped his head down towards his work. He heard running footsteps and labored breath behind him. Amir threw his bag onto the table, and flopped into his chair. Jake perked up slightly.
"Hey man, where have you been?" He asked, rubbing his chin. Amir stared at him over his glasses, a strange anecdote on his tongue. Jake waited patiently, but as he stared, noticed strange bruises on his neck and face, faded as if with makeup, but still faintly visible. Amir had started talking, animated and loud, but his voice seemed muffled.
"Amir, what happened?" He asked softly. Amir stopped, his eyes flickered, a slight wince. "I have no idea what you mean Jakey," he muttered, demeanor changing slightly. The former sighed, ignoring the nickname he hated, and tried again. Amir shrugged and stayed silent, completely odd for him. He sighed again, "dinner tonight?" He asked, chewing on the end of his pen, feigning a grin though he was quite concerned. The older man cracked a faint grin, nodding. still silent he turned to his work, another odd thing.
It was eight by the time they left, Amir having to stay late (as long as Jake waited). They walked to the elevator, laughing at something Cassel’s did earlier. Inside the lift, Jake fell silent and carefully looked at the bruises on Amir's face. They were still noticeable, if only slightly, and it appeared as though he applied makeup throughout the day, a thick loose powder. It made his skin blotchy around his neck. He pursed his lips, forcing a smile, a meek one at that. He wrapped his arm over Amir's shoulders.
"You know you're my best friend, right?" Amir squealed, "ah doi!" He exclaimed, "Good, and you also know you can tell me anything?" His voice was soft and he stared at the floor as if speaking to the tiles. He felt Amir nod slowly, but a thick and tense silence filled the space, swallowed by the humming of the lift. Jakes fingers curled into Amir's shirt.
"Do you want to sleepover at my house?" He offered with bright optimism. "we can go after dinner" he watched Amir, who's chocolate eyes stared at the elevator buttons, brows furrowed, a bit of his bottom lip taken between his teeth. The lift finally reached the ground floor, Amir finally answered with a quiet "yes, please” followed by his signature gritted smile.
Jake pushed open the door, holding it open for Amir, who was going into one of his sorties again, dropping failed metaphors as he stuffed chicken nuggets in his mouth. The latter ran in and fell into the couch as Jake closed the door and took off his jacket, Amir throwing corny jokes out, laughing at himself.
Amir lay down, stretching out, placing the box of nuggets on his chest.
"Are we going to talk about this, Amir?" Jake said softly as he sat in the chair next to the sofa. The former fell silent yet again, his features stern. Jake persisted, leaning closer to the other man, "you know it’s okay" he whispered.
Amir looked up at him and sat up straight against the back of the sofa, glaring over his frames at no one in particular, "I saw my dad," he mumbled, hands fidgeting. Jake sighed and looked down at his legs, trying to manage his voice, "did he do this to you?" he asked, cutting the tense silence. His words seemed to bite at him, he winced as he heard his own shaky voice. Amir nodded his head once, uttering a hushed "yes", his eyes downcast, and his bottom lip trembling. Jake placed a comforting hand on Amir’s knee, but the latter flinched and Jake withdrew, ushering a muffled apology. He leaned back in the chair, grabbing at the fabric on the end of the armrests as Amir sat still and straight. Agonizing minutes passed with the illusion of elapsed time, and Jake dared not speak or move or look up out of a strange sense of fear and remorse that plagued him. But Amir started to whimper, stifled sobs out of humiliation, gutted and thick with immense frustration. With just a moment of hesitation that he quickly threw aside, Jake rushed over, cradling Amir tightly, wiping the tears from his face and rubbing his back with soft shushes and coos. Amir released his cries, shaking. This went on for quite a while, until his crying was just sniffles and soft whines, but Jake still held on, resting his head on Amir’s shoulder.
"I don't know what's so wrong with me,” he mumbled, inhaling deeply. Jake shook his head, "nothing, absolutely nothing,"

Sunshine streaked across the bed, the pale yellow contrasting against the dark blue of the quilt. Jakes eyes followed the hovering lines, his gaze resting on the sleeping man beside him. His jaw slack, his hands cradled under his face, fingers curled towards the palms, his snores were soft and barely audible. Jake watched the blanket rise and fall. His fingers twitched with a desire to touch his soft face, trace hearts into his skin, and play with the small curls of his hair. He trembled at the thought of being so close, yet so far and those bruises were so obvious now and good God, he just wanted to press soft kisses all over him. He turned on his side, head propped by his elbow. He closed his eyes, as if in pain, imagining pressing against Amir, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. Slowly and hesitantly he reached over, his fingers barely touching Amir, he ached to touch him, but instead he withdrew. Whispering, “I’ll always protect you" he said, clenching his fists, "always," and he laid back down, trying to fall back asleep for just one more hour before they had to get to work. He prayed for dreams of the sleeping man, but little did he know that Amir was very awake.

Work went by slowly, but all was well. It was almost too good, with no arguments or yelling, violence or strangeness, nothing. The day was fluid and peaceful. In an ordinary work setting, this would be normal, but for college humor, it was absolutely out of place. Jake received strange looks all day and concerned questions when he left his desk. Pat even stopped him in the restroom, and even Ricky called him into his office to see if things were okay. They begged for insight of Amir, for some sort of reason as if he was the calm before the storm and Jake was a damn meteorologist. Despite that, things were fine. Amir seemed to be productive, but still joked and sang and everything, but his violent wildness was certainly absent. Jake watched him carefully, admiring the persistent smile he wore, the bruises hidden well. Jake helped him apply the powder, softly brushing his face, his breath held tightly as he was so close. He shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. Amir was wearing his shirt, he kept tugging at the hem with anxiety, and pulling up the collar, hiding that glorious smile but it was still present in his eyes. Jake attempted to concentrate on the scripts he was finalizing. But really, he was thinking of ways to casually ask Amir to stay the night again.
He left alone, bag slung over his shoulder, almost as if in defeat. The night air was chilly, but the sky was clear and the rushing tire on asphalt was slightly soothing. His attempts to persuade Amir over were in vain, and he had only made a fool of himself when Amir questioned his sudden neediness when he had always pushed him away. He regretted his years of abuse, the names and humiliation. Amir was just a plague; he assured himself, nothing more than a fucking virus he's now infected with.