3. A Certain Beauty to Brokenness
3
A Certain Beauty to Brokenness
As I pulled into my driveway, I checked my rear-view mirror and watched Ben park his Impala across the street, his lights blinking out. My dad’s SUV was in the garage, and the lights from the living room glowed through the shut blinds, casting stripes of light across the icy driveway.
Crap, I hadn’t thought about Dad. Not that I didn’t want Ben and my dad meeting, but it would only bring up uncomfortable questions I didn’t know the answers to. And while Dad had never treated me badly for being gay, he hadn’t voiced his support either. It was simply another thing we didn’t talk about.
Inviting Ben inside would only complicate things.
When knuckles rapped on my window, I jumped out of my skin, releasing an embarrassing yelp. Ben’s laugh was muffled, but I heard it.
Glaring at him, I shoved open my door and climbed out of my truck. The cold was sharp, burrowing past Ben’s California hoodie I wore and settling in my bones. I rubbed at my arms, wishing my winter coat wasn’t stuffed in my duffel bag, soaked and useless.
“Cold?” Ben reached for me, and I stuttered out a denial as he grabbed my arms and guided me closer. “I might have an extra coat in my trunk.”
As he rubbed my arms to warm me, I couldn’t think of a single word to say, so I settled for a nonsensical grunt. His eyes twinkled as they dragged down my body, settling on the California logo splayed across my chest.
“You look good in my hoodie,” he said as snow drifted lazily around us.
My neck heated. “You shouldn’t be so nice to me.”
“You want me to be mean to you?” he asked around a confused chuckle. “That seems like something you should discuss with a therapist.”
“There’s probably a lot I should discuss with a therapist,” I muttered, and his amused expression sobered.
“Then do it. Therapy’s a good thing.”
Uncomfortable with the topic, I studied the snowflakes collecting on the top of my boots. “You say that like you know from experience.”
“I do,” he admitted, entirely unashamed. “I’ve been seeing a therapist since my mom... died.”
I peeked up at him. “Really?”
He shrugged, smiling sadly. “It messed me up for a while, and I got into a bit of trouble. Therapy helped. Still does.”
“Oh,” I said because I didn’t know what else I should have said.
Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he squeezed my arms. “Anyway, what do you mean I should be mean to you?”
To be honest, I wasn’t even sure myself. All I knew was that I could live my whole life trying to be good enough for him, but I’d never accomplish it. We weren’t even dating, yet I still didn’t deserve him. Even as a friend, he was out of my league.
“You’re just a really good person, and I’m... not,” I finished stupidly.
At that, he frowned. “I’m not good. No one ever is. We’re just us, just human. We are who we are, and we try to be better. And if we’re lucky, we find people who help us.” His hand slid up my arm, to my neck, and further to my jaw where his thumb grazed over the corner of my mouth. “I like to think you make me better.”
Which was the nicest, most ridiculous thing he could have said.
“I break things, Ben,” I confessed. “It’s all I know how to do.”
He looked inexplicably sad as he said, “I don’t believe that, and I think the only person who does is you.”
It was too much, whatever this was between us. The truth, the vulnerability, it was stifling. I was suffocating, drowning in a toxic sea of emotion I was in no way equipped to deal with.
The porch light flickered to life, and we both startled. I stepped away from Ben, and he dropped his hands to his sides as we both turned toward the house.
“Shit. My dad’s home.”
“Is that a bad thing?” he asked, and I nodded, then shook my head.
“I dunno. I just—oh my God.” I grabbed Ben’s arm and dragged him to hide behind Mabel as a dark silhouette filled one of the windows. The blinds parted, like Dad was peeking out, and I ducked down.
“What are we doing?” Ben whisper-laughed as we cowered behind my truck.
“We’re hiding from my dad’s nosiness,” I said, tugging on his hand. “Come on. Follow me.”
We shuffled down the driveway, bent at the waists to remain hidden for as long as possible before I broke into a run. Giggling like a little kid about to get caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Ben followed. We sprinted down the sidewalk away from my house, the icy air freezing in my lungs as my exhales clouded around my mouth.
When we were far enough away that I was confident Dad couldn’t see us, I slowed, rubbing at a stitch in my side. Ben was laughing so hard he could barely stand up straight, and I grinned.
“Why are we hiding from your dad?”
“I don’t know! He was spying like a weirdo. Didn’t you see him?”
Wiping at his eyes, Ben said, tone overflowing with fondness, “You’re the weirdo.”
As he fell into step beside me, his elbow brushed mine at even intervals, and a comfortable quiet settled over us. A lot could be said with silence, and Ben spoke the most when he wasn’t saying anything at all. I liked hearing what he wanted to say when he had no words to say it.
It didn’t take long for us to reach the park at the end of the block where Will had told me about my mom, where we’d played together as kids, where I’d told my mom I liked boys. My feet faltered, and Ben slowed, sensing my hesitation.
“What’s this?” he asked, and I shrugged.
“Will and I played here when we were little.” I pointed to the castle. “Dragons and Knights was our favorite.”
“Were you the damsel in distress?” he teased, and Ithrew my head back, laughing into the dark sky.
“I was the dragon, I’ll have you know,” I said, mist swirling around my face.
Ben grinned. “Figures.”
Wood chips crunched underfoot as I backed away, a mischievous smile curving over my face. “Catch me if you can.”
Turning on my heels, I sprinted away, releasing a cry of alarm when Ben gave chase. I headed to the castle to take refuge under its roof as he quickly gained on me. He was naturally faster, but he took his time catching me. A part of me couldn’t wait to see what happened when he finally did.
Weaving and ducking through the castle, I laughed and laughed until my chest ached from it. I felt carefree and wild, like I was twelve years old again. And Ben, laughing right along with me as he reached for me again and again, fingers just shy of touching.
When I was out of breath, I climbed to the farthest tower and stumbled inside. I backed away from the doorway, trying to look alluring as I leaned back on the windowsill, elbows propped on the ledge.
Ben stopped on the threshold, watching me with a dark heat in his eyes that made my stomach tremble. “Now that I’ve caught you, what’s my prize?”
“What do you want?” I said, hating how weak my voice sounded.
“That’s a dangerous question,” he said in lieu of an answer. “I happen to want a lot of things.”
“Sometimes,” I whispered as he crossed the tower, “all you have to do is ask.”
As he came to a stop in front of me, he studied me with an unfathomable expression. “Asking is the scariest part.”
My courage wavered under his intensity, and I turned toward the window, exhaling to release the tension. I leaned my elbows on the windowsill and said, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Ben mirrored me, his elbow touching mine as he leaned into the window and gazed out over the park. We didn’t speak at first, and I studied my clasped hands, searching for something to say. I wasn’t good with words, with feelings, but I wanted to bridge the distance. More than anything, I wanted him to know me.
So I said, “I told my mom in this tower—that I didn’t think I liked girls, I mean. It was before she left. She seemed okay with it, like it didn’t change anything, but then she picked up and left a couple weeks later.
“It was her choice to go, but sometimes, I wonder if I’d been, I don’t know, normal, then maybe she would’ve stayed, you know?” I blinked away the emotion threatening to choke me. “It sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”
“It’s not stupid.” Ben touched his shoulder to mine, sharing the warmth and strength of his body as I fought to keep control of my emotions. “Parents aren’t always who they’re supposed to be.”
The words ringed with familiarity, even though I couldn’t name why, but it was the raw pain in his voice that made me ache. His mom was dead and his dad, from what little I’d gathered, hadn’t been top-notch. I wanted to know the full story, especially now that I felt so exposed, but I wasn’t sure if I could ask.
We stood on unstable ground, and if we pushed too hard, it might crack and crumble beneath us.
I took the chance anyway. “Were your parents who they were supposed to be?”
He didn’t respond at first. I waited. He’d tell me when he was ready. If tonight wasn’t the night, that was fine.
“No. No, they weren’t,” he said after a long, tense moment. “My father was mean, and my mother… I loved her more than anything, but she was weak. She didn’t protect us.”
My heart writhed at the agony etched on his face, and I slid my hand into his until we were palm to palm. I waited for him to jerk away or shake me off, but he didn’t.
“After she died, he got worse. She wasn’t there to stand in the way anymore, and I was too afraid to fight back.”
I wanted to say how sorry I was, but they were just empty words. So I twined our fingers together until they fit snugly. He didn’t look at me, but his muscles loosened. Sometimes, words weren’t needed. Maybe Ben was rubbing off on me after all.
“Then, one night, everything just blew up.” His eyes glazed over with memories, and I squeezed his hand to keep him grounded in the present. “I snuck out a lot, when he’d been drinking the most. I usually went to my neighbor Jackson’s house, but that night, Dad caught us. He saw us kissing at the fence, and he came after me with a liquor bottle. Said he didn’t want a cocksucker for a son. Jackson ran for it, but I…”
Ben released a shuddered breath, and I aligned my body with his until every inch of our sides touched. I forced myself not to overthink his revelation about kissing a boy. That wasn’t what this was about. Not right now.
My cheek met his shoulder, and he cleared his throat.
“Jackson’s parents called the cops, and they got there before he did too much damage. Cracked my jaw and busted a rib or two, but, uh, I lived to tell the tale.
“It’s why I was in foster care for a couple years. Aunt June was battling cancer, so the state deemed it better to keep me in the system. The moment I aged out, I came here.”
“Your dad?” I asked timidly, not wanting to make it worse but hoping the bastard got what he deserved.
“Jail. Still there as far as I know.” His tone hardened, and I squeezed his hand again.
I tried to communicate my feelings through the touch of our bodies. I hoped he understood. I sucked at the whole comforting thing, but maybe this was enough.
For the first time since he started his story, he looked at me, his glassy blue eyes filled with ghosts. I leaned in until my forehead touched his jaw. His hand in mine tightened as the other circled the back of my neck.
Why he was comforting me, I’d never know. I was trying to make him feel better.
“I want to say sorry, but I know it’s bullshit,” I said.
He angled my head so he could look down at me, and I inhaled sharply at his proximity. His thumb rubbed my cheek as he held my gaze. I was at his mercy, and he refused to set me free.
Did he feel this? Did he feel what I felt when he touched me? After sharing this, I hoped he did.
He admitted to kissing a guy, but that had been several years ago. Maybe it was just a phase or pure curiosity. Was I reading this all wrong? Was that real desire I saw splashing in the turbulent waves of his eyes?
“We’re both pretty fucked up, you know that, right?” I spouted to fill the expectant stillness between us.
“Yeah, I guess we are,” he said as I leaned into him, bringing our heads closer. He mimicked me, inching us nearer until his lips hovered a hair’s breadth from mine. “But there’s a certain beauty to brokenness, don’t you think?”
His words washed over me like fresh rain, and my brain shut down. All thought processes ceased as we shared one suspended moment.
Then it broke, and I moved.
I didn’t think. I didn’t question. I acted, unable to stop myself from closing the small distance between us. I pressed my lips against his.
They were soft and dry, and I barely stopped the groan of satisfaction from escaping my throat at the contact. I’d waited so long for this. I would’ve waited an eternity for him, but now that we were here, I was overcome with relief and want.
Unfortunately, Ben didn’t seem to share my feelings as he stiffened the moment our mouths met. Reality crashed over me, and I froze in horror.
I jerked away from him with wide eyes. “Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry.”
Here he was telling me about his psycho, abusive father, and I came on to him. He probably just wanted a friend to listen to him, to support him. And instead, I kissed him!
As if he was coming out of a daze, he shook his head and ensnared the hand that I attempted to reclaim from him. “Silas—”
“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have—”
Seizing my face, he cut me off as he tugged me back to his mouth. The kiss was surprisingly gentle given the tight coil of his muscles. It was feather-light, more of a teasing touch than an actual kiss, but it was enough to weaken my knees.
He tasted like spearmint, just like I knew he would.
With a sigh, he pressed his mouth to mine harder, kissing me in earnest. It was sweet and lazy, exactly the type of kiss I’d have expected from Ben. My hands fisted in his coat for a moment, but I couldn’t control them. They slid over his sides, then his chest, and he shuddered when I buried my fingers in his beautiful hair.
Far too soon for my taste, we separated, leaving me breathless even though it was the softest kiss I’d ever had. We remained nose-to-nose, breathing each other’s air. His eyes were dark. His chest rose and fell choppily as his forehead met mine.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for that,” he said.
I scowled, wrenching his hair viciously. “Then what the fuck took you so long?”
He smirked and brushed his nose against mine. “You’re kind of skittish, you know? I couldn’t take the chance of being impatient and scaring you off.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
He rolled his eyes. “You really know what to say to warm a boy’s heart.”
I laughed, and he smiled.
“Besides, I had to be sure you wanted me too.”
I raised an eyebrow and rubbed against him suggestively. “I think it’s safe to say I want you. Or do you need more encouragement?”
Wiggling my obvious want against his thigh, I nipped his bottom lip, and he gasped. “Do you always have to be such a smartass?”
I assumed the question was rhetorical when he smashed our mouths together before I could answer. There was hunger to this kiss, and I met his desperation with my own.
My hands delved into his hair, his strands sifting through my fingers soft as silk. My heart leapt as he moaned into my mouth. One of his hands slid down my spine to my lower back. He pulled me impossibly close as the other hand cupped the back of my neck. He was everywhere, surrounding me with the scent of his spring soap and the taste of spearmint on his lips.
When his grip dropped to my hips, he added just enough pressure to push me backward until my back met the wall. Pinned between his body and the wall, I groaned. His tongue dove into my mouth to tangle with my own.
Much too quickly, his lips left mine, and I whimpered at the loss.
He chuckled darkly and blazed a path down my neck. As he drove me crazy with his mouth, my head fell back against the wall to give him ample room to nibble my pulse point.
I felt him harden against me, and fire raced through my veins. I unzipped his coat, shoving aside the bulky material so I could slip my hands under his shirt. Hot skin met my fingers, and I nearly whimpered.
“Silas,” he panted my name against my neck, and whatever control I’d had until this point snapped.
I spun us, shoving Ben against the wall violently as I smothered his shocked grunt with my lips. My hands lowered to his jeans, my fingers working to unbutton them.
Before I could get his zipper down, his grip cinched around my wrists hard enough to hurt. “Silas, wait.”
I froze.
The air between our mouths fogged as we panted like we’d just run a marathon. Why were we stopping? Did he have any idea how long I’d wanted this, wanted him ?
“What’s wrong?” I gulped in oxygen to aid my brain in recovering from the lust racing through my nervous system. “Did I—”
“No.” Ben shook his head, but from the way he forced my hands away from his groin, I assumed he was lying.
I’d fucked this up already, hadn’t I?
“I’m sorry,” I said, and he shook his head again.
He lifted my hands and placed a kiss on each palm. “Stop apologizing so much. I just—not that I don’t appreciate you, um…”
“Trying to get in your pants?” I said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.
His already flushed face darkened further. “Yes, that. It’s just, I don’t want this to be some hook-up. We don’t need to rush, you know?”
“Right, okay.” I bit my tongue so as not to apologize again.
I was used to quick blowjobs in dark corners and hurried handjobs in secret. This was different. I was out of my element.
“Sorry—I mean, not sorry. It’s just… I’ve never not rushed. I’m not good at this.”
“I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.” His lips ghosted across my neck, then returned to my cheek, kissing once, twice. He nuzzled my nose with his, his lips tracing mine without making real contact. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
When he reunited our lips, I decided then and there I could spend eternity kissing him and I would never get bored.
Something shifted between us anew, rearranging the way we fit together to create something different. It was new and fragile, this thing between us; one small crack and it would break into a million pieces.
If it shattered, I’d break right along with it.
I’d never felt so scared in my life.