Chapter 17 #3
Oscar had racked up many awards on his home screen, a shelf of virtual trophies in platinum, gold, silver, and bronze that bore witness to his dedication as a game tester—a monument to his laziness, his disinclination to move anything except his fingers and his thumbs.
But maybe none of these were as deserved as the one he was owed for repeating his mother’s words to Aaron while he looked into his eyes, voice trembling, heart unflinching.
Aaron’s foot climbed over Oscar’s, and it was this, in the end, that sent another wave of emotion through him, his sobs crashing against the rocks that made up a body accustomed to hate.
Aaron rolled onto his knees, sliding in between Oscar’s legs, leaning into him.
He wrapped his arms around Oscar’s neck, pressing their brows together.
His skin was cooler, maybe because Oscar was still hungover or because he was emotional or because he was Papa’s boy, so he would always have the inheritance of a furnace burning away inside him.
“You’re beautiful,” Aaron whispered, his soft dry kisses feathering Oscar’s skin.
“Every soft, round thing about you makes me want to snuggle into you. Every scar reminds me that in all the suffering to get to who we are, there was the final reward of finding each other, and if that’s not the gift of my life, I don’t know what is. ”
Aaron’s hands smelled like fried rice when he cupped his face, thumbs rubbing Oscar’s cheeks.
“I shouldn’t have gone drinking. That text I started typing…I was going to ask you to come get me. I can show you. It’s still sitting there, half drafted.” Oscar looked for words, then his phone, scrambling around on the couch.
“Spike, I believe you.” Aaron’s eyes were the swirl of slush his father would buy him at the beach. “And next time, press send.”
“I didn’t want to be selfish. I had just fucked up the one thing I talked you into letting me do for you.
” Oscar sniffled. “Maybe it was more selfish to hide than it would have been to admit my failure and sit with your disappointment. I’m sorry I fucked everything up.
I’m sorry I went to the bar and had so much to drink.
I know it’s no excuse, but I thought it would be better than… ”
Aaron squeezed his eyes shut. His kiss was a balm.
If Oscar had been able to have one at the stall, it would have erased his mother and every ugly thing she’d said.
It would have washed her fingerprints from the buttons she’d pressed.
It cleaned Oscar of her influence now, and he melted into it, wrapped his arms around Aaron’s back, pulling him in.
“Thank you for telling me. About yesterday and about what used to happen when you were young. I’m glad you had Papa back then, to clean you up and kiss your cuts.
I’m sorry he only got to do that once, but I’m glad he taught you every day of your life that you deserve not to hurt.
” Aaron’s eyes blinked open, finding Oscar’s.
“You have me now. And I will show you what you deserve every day, like your father would have wanted. I will kiss your skin until you never want to touch it again.”
“I don’t. I promise I don’t. It was one moment.
I’m better now, and you don’t have to worry about me.
” Oscar leaned in, kissing Aaron on the neck.
It was a soft, deft thing that turned Aaron liquid in his arms, as though in the months they’d known each other, Oscar had memorized every special place.
“I have never been more desperate to live than I am now. I would steal every second left on the clock of the universe if it meant I could spend them all with you.”
“Oscar, are you a poet? Because you’re driving me Wilde.” Aaron pulled back, grinning. And it drew a different kind of sob from Oscar, one colored sweet, lined with a chuckle, wet and lovely.
“Good. I want to. I want to drive you wild with desire, not mad with every stupid thing I do.” Oscar loved how his hands spanned the width of Aaron’s waist, how much bigger they felt to be able to hold him entirely.
He loved how beautiful Aaron made him feel when his hands traveled up his shirt and touched his soft plumpness.
“Then drive me wild. Nobody else can.” Aaron shook his head.
“I’m that good, huh?” Oscar’s smirk felt new on his face, like he’d forgotten joy in the hours that had passed, but here he was now in the thick of it.
“You are,” Aaron replied, rolling his eyes. “But that’s not what I meant. It’s because I wouldn’t let anybody else.” Aaron’s nose bent as he pressed it against Oscar’s. “I’m yours, Oscar Peters. And get it out of your pretty head that I’m ever going anywhere.”
It scraped the bitter taste of an ugly yesterday off Oscar’s tongue, dripping strawberry sweetness in its stead. And Oscar dove into it, sweeping Aaron into a kiss for the ages, a tidal wave that washed away the staleness of their afternoon.
Aaron squealed as Oscar flipped him on his back, dropping soft as a feather to lie on top of him.
So what if he wasn’t stick thin like his mother and Lina?
It meant he could hold Aaron’s weight, that he could lift him, that when his body got even stronger from being surgically taken apart and put together again, he would be able to carry him without fear.
Oscar couldn’t run up the stairs to save his own life, but he could carry the man he loved, and in the end, this was the meaning of his life. Oscar would make it so.
He looked down at him, brushing his feathery bangs from his brow.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he murmured.
“Hello, baby,” Aaron murmured back, mouth crescenting into a smile.
Oscar shifted, resting his knee by Aaron’s hip. The light shifted with him, glinting off the flimsy foil Paulie had wrapped the baby sunflowers in. Oscar reached for one, pulling it out of the bunch, and broke off as much of the stem as he could, tucking it behind Aaron’s ear.
“I feel very beautiful right now,” Aaron said, grinning.
“Because you are.” Oscar brushed his cheek. “I’m sorry I upset you.” It was easier to say it now, easier to look into his eyes and apologize without crumbling. Aaron made it easy.
“I’m sorry I didn’t ask about the reason,” Aaron replied. “It’s in the past.”
“What will you do about work?” Oscar asked.
“That’s tomorrow’s question. Tonight, I want to know what you’re going to do to me,” Aaron said. His voice was a warm soft thing, a breath that blew onto Oscar’s cheeks. Loving him was like sitting in front of the fireplace with hot chocolate and marshmallows, like sitting in the sun after a swim.
Oscar leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Aaron’s jaw, nipping at his earlobe, and whispered, “Everything.”