19. Home
19
HOME
A lberto’s mouth fell open. “What are you doing here?” Mathias gave him a dark look, and Alberto pressed his lips shut.
Mathias withdrew one hand from his pockets to point a finger at Gin and Tonic— never mind that the former was still in high school, whereas the latter was in his thirties—and Alberto felt the guy’s arm tense around his shoulder.
“Let go of him.”
Gin and Tonic blinked at him. "He's your boyfriend?"
"I'm not his boyfriend," Alberto muttered.
"I don't need this shit," Mathias said.
Alberto's heart jumped in his throat and stayed up there. He was thankful to be under the influence, or the pain flaring throughout his chest might have consumed him on the spot.
Mathias’s eyes caught the light from the neon sign above the door and seemed to glow in the dark. “You can either let him go, or I will make you.”
Gin and Tonic didn't need this shit either, because he literally hurled Alberto at Mathias with a quick, “Sorry, man, I didn’t know he was yours!” and teleported back into the club.
“I’m not…” Alberto mumbled. No one heard him.
When Mathias seized his elbow, Alberto flinched away. He'd been pawed all over by different men tonight and didn't want to dirty him .
"Where's your coat now?" Mathias sounded really mad. “You’re freezing.”
Alberto realised he didn't feel hot or cold, just hazy and numb. He fumbled in his pockets and retrieved a crumpled piece of paper with a number on it.
"It's in there, I'll just..."
"You stay right here. Do not move."
Mathias took the ticket and walked up to the bouncer. "Can you let me in? I just want to get his coat back."
At the sight of his face, the burly man at the door lost his bored countenance and gave him an appreciative smile. "Come in, handsome."
An impatient soul who had been waiting in line saw that and lost his temper. “Seriously?”
The bouncer snorted. "Yeah, seriously. Is there a problem?"
Alberto felt the need to speak up. He needed to yell that there was, in fact, a problem. "Watch out!” he slurred, staggering toward the entrance. “He's a boxer. He’ll punch you right in the gut without warning.”
Unimpressed by his outburst, the bouncer held him up with one hand and advised him to calm down. "He's picking you up and getting your coat, but he’s not your boyfriend?"
"No," Alberto said, almost snarling.
The man gave a low chuckle. “Too bad for you, I guess.”
Fuck the lot of you . If Mathias wasn't gay for him, then he shouldn't be gay for anyone. Alberto would have gladly provoked this mountain into a fight he knew he'd lose over Mathias, but he tripped over his own foot and landed in the bouncer's arms, who gave a heavy sigh.
"Careful, kid, don’t push your luck."
Alberto found himself soothed by the man’s deep voice and his pleasant smell. He buried his face in his chest. "Where is home, Mister?"
The bouncer displayed a surprising amount of patience. "I don't know. Your not boyfriend will probably know."
"He thinks I'm a demon. Where do you think demons live?"
“In Hell, I guess.”
“Precisely,” Alberto mumbled, just as the bouncer, seeing Mathias, tossed him back into his arms.
"Take him home, he's barely lucid."
"All right. "
Mathias looked angry. And gorgeous. Ah, the longing, even now. The unhealthy cocktail of booze and pills swirling around in Alberto’s blood had every blood cell in his body marching to the chant of Mathias, Mathias, Mathias!
Mathias, I tripped up, I admit, I didn’t plan any of it. I feel so dirty. Take me back, I'll be good. Mathias, I’m so sorry. I only want to do it with you.
Pathetic. Mathias wouldn't care for such words. Alberto better forget about it and shut up altogether. And he did. Wrapped up in his coat, he eventually stopped shivering and was silent on the way back. As for Mathias, he only spoke once.
“I see you waste no time. Or effort. That guy was seriously ugly.”
Was he? Alberto had forgotten all about him already. He mumbled a few incoherent words that warranted no answer. They made it back to Mathias’s building in what felt both like two minutes and two hours.
Once in the lift, Mathias spoke again without meeting his eyes. “I thought you didn’t drink.”
I thought so, too. I guess I’ve changed my mind. Too tired to speak the words, he shrugged instead.
For some reason, it seemed to make Mathias even angrier. He withdrew his keys from his pocket with a dark expression. When he opened the front door, he lifted a finger in front of his mouth. Alberto got the message and nodded. They removed their shoes in silence, and as they tiptoed their way to the bedroom, Alberto saw Cyril passed out on the sofa, and his chest tightened with guilt.
What was he doing here, intruding on Mathias’s night like this? How did Mathias even find him, anyway? Was he a regular at that derelict club?
“What happened?” Alberto asked once sat on Mathias’s bed, suddenly aware none of this made any sense. “Why am I here?”
Mathias hung by the door with a frown. “Check your text messages.” He gave a quick sigh. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”
Alberto searched his pockets for his phone, and after some fumbling, he found the text. I’m awfully, awfully drunk at The Night Howl! Dancing, dancing, dancing around. You should come, too! Followed by half a dozen of little x’s like so many kisses.
Wasn’t he chirpy when he was out of it? What a disgusting human being he turned out to be. Alberto had no recollection of even typing this message. It must have happened when he was hallucinating on the dance floor. He could only assume everything his mother had told him about mixing pills and alcohol was true. Basically, a terrible idea. He had only one wish now: to sleep this night off. God, waking up tomorrow would suck . If only there was no tomorrow.
Mathias returned with a large glass of water, and Alberto grabbed it with both hands. “Can I have more?” he asked once he’d finished it.
“Go take a shower first. You reek.”
Alberto did as he was told. Scalding water and Mathias’s soap flushed away the grime and some of the shame, at least for now. His hair damp and his face flushed by steam, Alberto returned to the bedroom ten minutes later and sat by Mathias’s side on the bed. A bottle of water lay on the nightstand, obscuring the picture of his mother. Alberto averted his eyes and glanced at the pillows with longing. “Mathias…” he began, not knowing what would come next.
Mathias seized his chin with rough fingers and looked into his eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I think so. I’m just sleepy now.”
They gazed at each other. Alberto was close, so close to open up, lean his head on his shoulder, let it all out. It went overboard, he wanted to say. The way I miss you. Want you. Your body. No, not just your body. All of it. All of you.
Mathias was also staring at him like he wanted to say something, so Alberto waited, his heart thumping in his chest. After a harrowing length of time, he said, “Your mother called three times.”
Alberto gasped. “Did you pick up?”
“No. You better tell her something.”
Mathias watched as Alberto struggled to write a decent text to reassure his mother — knowing he’d get another earful tomorrow. “Why did you text me tonight?” he asked.
“I… uh…”
His jaw clenched as Alberto blinked cluelessly at him. “I told you we were done.”
Alberto considered telling him how hurtful those words were, but he decided against it. He wouldn’t grovel. At home, Stasia might be able to make him kneel, but free from her clutches, he would still cling to the remnants of his dignity.
“Listen,” he murmured, finding Mathias’s eyes. “I want to tell you something…”
“What?”
“You’re… you’re an… asshole.”
The light flickered in Mathias’s eyes, and his lip twitched. “Thanks. ”
“You’re welcome.”
Mathias said something, his brows knitting with each word. Alberto didn’t listen, losing himself in the sight. He wished he could just… rest his face on his chest for like… one second… maybe two… Listen to his heart beat against his ear… Tell him, maybe… What about me? I never said I was done with you .
“Hey,” Mathias said when he noticed Alberto had spaced out. “Hey! Look at me.”
Alberto obeyed with difficulty, his eyelids heavy with sleep. “What…?”
“Did you get what I just said?” Mathias sounded serious. “Don’t text me the next time you…”
“Huh…”
“… you see how close I was…”
“‘Kay.”
“… bastard…”
“Uh-huh…”
“… or I’ll fucking kill you.”
Alberto started. “Okay, yes, okay.” His chest tightened.
Mathias had been consistently strange over the past few months, but he’d never threatened him before. Alberto had really done it this time. He sat stiffly at the edge of the bed, wondering how it was that he could make everyone around him so angry they wanted to hurt him.
“Okay,” Mathias repeated. “Good.”
As if he hadn’t just threatened him, Mathias then obligingly helped Alberto into a long sleeve T-shirt and a pair of pyjama trousers, and, without a word, opened the comforter for him. Alberto almost whimpered when his head fell onto the cool pillow.
“I’m sorry…” were his last words. Then, the events of the night and the rest caught up with him, and he all but passed out.
That night, Alberto dreamt again. He was revisited by the stubborn old nightmare that used to plague him years ago. Mamma wept and coffins rattled, and soon enough, he fell into a deeper sleep and got sucked into a darker dream. He was being tortured in the fires of Hell, and his tormentor wore the face of Mathias. Three monstrous imps were handing him the weapons, cackling gleefully as they did. It didn’t matter how much Alberto begged, Mathias’s figure in the dream was unmoved. It said, This is your home, this is where you belong .
Alberto jolted awake, drenched in sweat. At once, terror struck him. The three imps were here, hunched over his bed, their talons scraping the frame. One had blond hair, one had black hair, and one had no hair at all. They were all watching him, their evil faces split into malevolent grins. Alberto screamed, or so he thought. His eyes opened to a different bed, in a different room. It had only been another dream.
He rose, shaking like a leaf. Though their bodies weren’t touching, he could feel the heat off Mathias’s skin, as though they were a mere inch apart. His presence by his side flooded him with relief.
“Are you all right?” Mathias asked.
“Yes.” Alberto forced out a laugh. He felt drowsy and feverish at the same time. “It’s just… for a second, I didn’t know where I was…”
Willing himself to stop shaking before Mathias noticed anything, he seized the bottle of water on the nightstand. Only after he’d drank deeply from it did he exhale a slow breath. Afterwards, he lay back down and curled into a ball.
At no point had he dared to turn around and face Mathias. When he had settled at last, Alberto heard his voice again, low and quiet in the dark.
“Now, I know what you do at night.” He sounded almost accusatory. “Why you’re so tired all the time.”
Alberto was too flustered to understand his meaning, so he glanced over his shoulder. Mathias was lying on his side, looking at him. “What? What do you think I do at night?”
Mathias arched his eyebrow meaningfully.
“Oh…” Alberto finally understood. “You mean my other lovers ?”
Mathias gave a small nod. Alberto’s brow furrowed. Why was he bringing that up again now? He was better placed than anyone to know the reason why he had no energy. But if there was a chance of making him jealous, then perhaps… Alberto rolled over and faced him, even managing a taunting smile.
“Does it turn you on, to think of me with other men?”
Mathias took the longest time to answer. He stared at him in silence while Alberto waited for him to break it, his anticipation slowly morphing into dread.
“Yes,” he said at last. His tone was neither mocking nor upset. Like the thought of Alberto being a slut was just fact, and nothing to trouble himself over.
Here it was; Mathias had finally admitted it. And when he did, Alberto didn’t find the resolve to tell him there never was anyone else.