Out of Nowhere (Middle of Somewhere 2)

I want to fight him with everything I have. Want to assure him that I can promise this, since it’s the thing he says he needs. But I know he’s right.

“But if I can’t promise, then… are you saying you don’t want to…?” I gesture between us, and Rafe catches my hand and kisses it.

“No, I’m not saying I don’t want this. I’m saying that’s one thing I need, and if you can promise me that you’re going to work on it, then thank you.”

I nod. I can do that. I can fight for that. “Okay, so what else?”

Rafe slumps back into the couch like he didn’t expect me to agree or something.

“I missed you,” he mutters. “I hated not being with you.”

“Yeah. I—look, I know I fucked up. I’m going to prove to you that you can trust me. That I can be your, um, your you.” He looks confused. “You know. Like when you said you were jealous of Luz because she had you.” Rafe’s expression softens and leans a little closer. “I know I’ve been a mess since you met me, okay? I do know that. But you can talk to me about the shitty stuff too. You don’t have to wait until it gets this bad.”

“I tried,” he says.

“Yeah, maybe. And I probably fucked it up. But there have been other times. When you’ve been upset about things or feeling shitty about stuff and you didn’t tell me. Like you thought I couldn’t handle it. But I can.”

“Yeah?”

I nod once. I think it’s even the truth.

“Er, and I have to tell you something. You might be mad.” Rafe tenses immediately but schools his expression. “I, um, I gave Anders my phone number that day that he came into the shop, and he gave it to the other kids and we’ve been texting. Especially me and Anders. Not in a creepy way, I don’t mean. Just, I’ve been thinking a lot about all the shit he’s going through. All of them are going through, really, and then we were texting, and anyway, I know it isn’t protocol or whatever. But there are records or something, I’m sure, so it’s not like anyone can accuse me of being inappropriate.”

I’ve said all this in basically one long sentence so Rafe can’t say anything, and now he groans and collapses onto me.

“Jesus Christ, Colin, I thought you were going to say… I don’t know. Don’t fucking scare me like that.”

His body against mine for the first time in so long feels exactly right. I breathe him in and he smells—well, he smells bad, honestly, but underneath the not-showered, hiding-in-my-apartment mustiness, he smells like Rafe. I put my fingers in his dirty hair.

“I told Brian and Sam that I’m gay,” I tell him quietly.

It feels like I’m peeling off my cards one by one and throwing them down on the table for Rafe. It’s shock and awe and I’ll be damned if I’m leaving here without getting Rafe on board. Something about seeing him this low, this down about everything, makes me finally feel like I have something to offer him.

“You what?”

He jerks away from me, and I start laughing at the look of total shock on his face. It may be slightly on the hysterical side because once I start, I can’t stop. He’s staring at me like I’m nuts, mouth hanging open ridiculously, which makes me laugh harder. He sputters.

“But… you… but, why?”

“Because of Anders’ stupid dad,” I get out through my laughter, “and because of Daniel, and because—because I fucking love you,” I cackle. “I think. Maybe. Probably.”

“What!”

He sounds so exasperated and looks so affronted that I laugh until I have to sit up so I don’t choke. “Well, I don’t know! I’ve never… you know.” I gesture between us.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, shaking his head, and starts laughing. Then he lunges at me and kisses me until I’m gasping for breath. He kisses my neck, and his hair falls in my face.

“You’re filthy,” I say. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “No, I mean, when’s the last time you took a damn shower, seriously?” I feel so light, so buoyant in the moment that I can’t put any heat behind it. And honestly, I don’t care.

“Mean,” he murmurs and pulls me off the couch and onto the mattress two steps away.

“Ow! God damn it!” I roll to the side to escape the stabbing spring that Rafe just threw me onto.

“Sorry,” he says, but he goes right back to attacking my neck.

“Jeez, no wonder you want to stay at my house all the time. All your shit is uncomfortable as hell.”

“Mmhmm.” He nods into my throat.

We kiss hotly, grinding together, and I roll us until I’m on top of him. I slide our pants down but that’s all I can do before we’re pressed together again, drinking the breath from each other’s mouths and losing where one of us ends and the other begins, all playfulness dissolved in desperation.