After the Last Midtown Show

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, streaking in slivers across the bed, contrasting greatly with the dark blue quilt. Dust shimmered in the light, rising and dipping as Vic watched with heavy lidded eyes. He sighed and rolled over to his side, following that line of sunshine where it crossed over a bundle of blankets, tangled over the sleeping being next to him. He watched for a moment, heart swelling and a fragmented smile making its way onto his features. Gradually and hesitantly, he reached over to the mound of coverlets, wanting so desperately to touch, but stopped short out of dread. He noticed a bit of hair sticking out from under the sheets. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to quell that persistent smile because it made his jaw ache an awful lot. He hoped that this morning would be different from all the other morning’s when he woke up next to Jaime.
He thought back to the previous night, of their fervent kisses as they stumbled upstairs to Vic’s room. Jaime tasted faintly of beer, but he wasn’t that drunk and if he was, it was on his neediness. Vic didn’t mind his constant coming over, he knew he was being used, but he was entirely acceptable with it because it was Jaime and he would take any part of him that he could. But every night was like that, with the younger man calling and coming over, harshly kissing Vic, leading him upstairs as he started pulling off their clothing. Every night ended with Jaime pulling away from him, wrapping himself in whatever blankets were on the bed and falling asleep sometime later as Vic stayed still, only half-way gratified and feeling vacant. Every following morning was the same, too. Vic learned to wake up before the other man did, so that he could at least say goodbye as Jaime picked up his clothes and left in a haste, with just a hurried farewell. The last two times, he begged Jaime to stay, to come back to bed and just stay for a few more hours. It didn’t work, but hope still persevered within Vic.
He waited, staring up at the white ceiling, listening for the shuffle of sheets. It took several minutes for Jaime to finally awake and sit up, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands. He didn’t acknowledge Vic, who also sat up in the bed. He watched, a cold pain filling his chest, as Jaime began pulling on his clothes. He had buckled his belt before Vic finally built up enough nerve to speak, his voice higher than usual, drenched with desperation, “Stay, please,” he pleaded, clenching his fists to ward of the tears he could feel brimming his eyes. Jaime paused for a moment, as if he was going to acknowledge that plea, but continued on, pulling on his shirt. Vic leapt to his feet, pushing the blankets back on the bed. He grabbed Jaime’s hand, which made the man turn and face him.
“Don’t go,” he whispered, begging with every emotion he had. He closed his eyes, straining for a real reason to keep the man there for just a while longer. He opened his eyes to see Jaime looking at the ground. “Please don’t do this again,” his voice broke slightly, he looked around the room before speaking again, “Don’t do this to me again,” with saying that, he couldn’t keep back his tears. His throat clenched painfully as he tried to his sobs back, tears trickled down his face. He thought, for a moment, back to all those times where Jaime was so close to him, and their first kiss, rushed and hesitant backstage summers ago. They were all little hints that just proved that Jaime had to feel something more than just friendship and lust, something in between all of that. He looked at the man, searching for a sign of what he was going to do, or hopefully say, next.
Jaime slowly pulled out of his grasp and took two steps back, still gazing at the floor. It felt like Vic’s heart fell through his body. His legs suddenly felt dense, he wanted to throw up. He stared ahead, vacuously, blinking slowly as tears streaked down his face. He didn’t try to stop them. He heard Jaime’s footsteps echo on the wood floor, and into the carpeted hallway, and that was it. Vic slumped to a heap after several extensive minutes, and cried into his legs.
It took two and a half weeks for Jaime to call him up again, asking Vic if he could come over. His head hurt with the thought, and his tongue singed with the answer, a yes that he knew he shouldn’t confess to. He was silent for a moment, a long instant, before answering with a very lenient, “sure”.
Jaime tasted like cheap peach wine and cherry chapstick. His lips burned just slightly when he kissed Vic on the mouth. He was unforgiving and rushing, his teeth scraping against Vic’s skin. His fingers were calloused and coarse, but soft and tender at the same time. He smelled of burned charcoal and cinnamon. He pulled Vic’s hair as he kissed him intensely. And the next morning he woke up without a word, and left Vic as a hallow shell.
All Vic could think about was three summers ago, when he first fell for Jaime. The man laughed sharply, his grin nauseatingly adorable and contagious. Vic couldn’t help but stare. His stomach turned in knots. They ended up flopping down in a patch of grass sometime during that day, laughing so hard it hurt their sides. Vic turned his head while lying on his back and watched in that fleeting moment, absolute happiness on Jaime’s features. The man looked back, still smiling and it was so genuine, it reached his eyes and he stared at Vic like that, his body still shaking from laughter. It was a slow, rather forgettable moment, but that’s when Vic first realized how he felt. He had that butterfly feeling in his stomach, something he hadn’t felt for a long time. He felt like he was a teenager again when he looked at Jaime. The feelings only grew stronger from there, built up with plenty of close encounters and brazenly happy memories. There were so many times that Jaime was so close that Vic could take his hand, or kiss him square on the mouth. There were so many little hints scattered throughout the years that just proved Vic’s feelings were not one-sided, but now he just felt like he fooled himself with terrible, bitter false hope.
He stayed in bed all that day, and the following one, caught up in his own dismal thoughts and agonizing self-pity. Every now and then he acted like a real human being, and he even jotted down a few bitter thoughts that crossed his mind for later, but for the most part he just laid there on his back, still as a board, staring up at his blank ceiling.
Until he heard a frantic knock on his door. At first, he ignored it, thinking it was the post, until the person at the door persisted for about five minutes. Annoyed, Vic slowly made his way downstairs in just a thin shirt and boxers. He flung open the door, grumbling to the visitor but stopped short as he slowly looked up. Jaime’s chest was heaving with labored breath, a thin glean of sweat on his forehead. Between his gasps, he smiled that brilliant smile at Vic, who felt a twist of pain and excitement in his chest. He stepped aside to allow Jaime in, staying silent. The man walked in and turned towards Vic, opening his mouth to say something. Vic closed the door, just staring, a bitter sneer curling his lips. The silence only worsened Vic’s anger.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he finally stammered, clenching his fists at his sides. Anger bubbled inside of him, warming his body. His neck flushed hot. Jaime looked slightly taken a back and raised his hands in defense.
“I needed to talk to you, I ran all the way over here,” he mumbled, stumbling over his words. Vic crossed his arms over his chest and gave him a quizzical look. Jaime sighed deeply.
“I’m in love with you,” he stated, voice rather soft. Vic’s heart started to race. Jaime stepped closer. “I really, really fucked up,” he whispered, eyes downcast. He looked up at Vic, eyes pleading. It’s the same look that the older man wore so many times before. He took a step back, grunting in anger and disgust. He clutched at his arms, digging his fingers into his flesh.
“You don’t get to do that!” he yelled, staring at the floor next to Jaime’s feet, “You don’t get to come in here after hurting me so many fucking times!” he spat those last four words with heart-wrenching venom. He couldn’t bring himself to look into Jaime’s eyes. He straightened up, breathe still flaring. “I was the one who was in love with you, and you just used that,” he voice was starting to break, “You knew I loved you and you used that,” and with that he finally looked up at Jaime’s face. The man was staring back at him, mouth slightly ajar, tears filling his eyes. He finally felt what Vic had been feeling for weeks. He inhaled sharply, trying to control his brimming emotions.
“You can’t just decide that quickly after doing that to me,” he paused, rubbing his lips together, “you can’t just come in here, telling me you love me, without trying to fix things. You can’t just step right in, thinking you can use me again. I’m not your pawn. I don’t just exist for you,” He stepped back against the wall and felt around for the door. He flung it open and looked back at the ground, this time next to his feet. Jaime didn’t budge, a small, broken sound emanating past his lips. He was about to bed, to plead. Vic screamed at him to leave, and so he did so quickly. He stumbled out the door and into the bright sunlight. Vic slammed the door behind him and slid against the wall, down to the floor.
When Vic stepped out to go buy some food, Jaime was there, sitting on his porch steps. He was stunned, and slowly closed the door. The click alerted the other man, who turned around and then quickly stood up, brushing off his legs. He stepped towards Vic carefully and just stared at him, his bottom lip trembling slightly.
“You were on your back when I first realized I felt something for you. We were waiting to go on stage, and you were lying down on a trunk, with your legs falling over the edge, kicking to the beat of the song the band before us was playing, and your hands were folded on your chest. You had this little smile. You looked calm and I looked at you and all I thought about was waking up to that,” he stammered, running a hand through his hair before continuing with a sharp intake of breath, “I would watch you tucked away in the corners of rooms all over the world, scribbling away in your notebook or typing on your computer. I watched you become a hero and stand at the face of a crowd, embracing every single one of your words screamed back at you. I watched you fall at your worst and get back up again,
“You sleep on your back, with one hand curled by your face and the other straight by your side. You roll around a lot, you kick a lot and you like to steal the covers. You make weird faces when you’re brushing your teeth, and you sort of cross your eyes when you’re day-dreaming. Sometimes you cry and your face doesn’t change at all, the tears just fall. You blush at dirty jokes, even when they’re your own and you read every single letter our fans hand you,” he stepped forward as Vic opened his mouth to speak, tears streaming down his face, but Jaime interrupted him, “I love the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and the silly faces you make. I love your hats and your terrible shirts and how you wear them so well. I adore every word that comes from your mind because you’re absolutely brilliant. You’re hilarious and kind, you’re the best person I know and you deserve the universe,” he paused, leaning back on his heels with laughter because he was starting to get over-emotional, “and I really fucked up. I hurt you when all I wanted was to feel you and be with you, but I did it in the wrong way. There’s no excuse for what I did to you. I know you won’t take me after how I hurt you, but I needed you to know that I love you and I’ve loved you for a while, because if I didn’t tell you, I’d probably explode or something.”
Vic stared up at him, and then closed his eyes, thinking of all those moments he kept locked away. He sighed, smiling into it.
“I swear,” he muttered, licking his lips, “if you don’t kiss me right now, I’m going to punch you in the stomach,”
And Jaime did kiss him, and that kiss was a thousand times different than all the others. It was soft and gentle. Jaime tasted sweet, unlike anything else he’s ever tasted before. He pressed into the kiss, but not aggressively, and he kept his hands at his sides instead of pulling at Vic’s clothes. It was the kiss that Vic had been thinking of, hell, dreaming of for years. It was that teenage kiss filled with silly teenage feelings, but he loved it anyway. They pulled away, smiling.
“Is there any way I can fix things?” Jaime asked, softly, dizzy with happiness. Vic thought for a moment, and then nodded.
“You can start by buying me a burrito because I’m starving, “he suggested, laughing softly. Jaime nodded, biting down on his smile. He started to turn to walk down the stairs, but lunged at Kellin instead, gently but sternly grabbing the sides of his face, kissing him stronger than before. The kiss left Vic breathless as Jaime pulled away.
“What was that for?” he asked, barely audible. Jaime shrugged, smiling.
“I was hoping to make up for lost time,” he muttered, shuffling his feet. He looked up at Vic and flashed another toothy grin before making his way down the stairs.