Chapter 8 #2
He was good at this. He had been good at this the way a man gets good at carrying a stone he's never allowed to set down.
He'd watched Jude grow from the kid singing too big in his mother's church into this, and the whole time he'd kept the wanting in the same drawer he kept the dead: shut, labeled, never opened on bright days.
The drawer had stayed shut because two men sat on the lid.
Rand, who had Jude. And Easton, who was Jude's brother and Nate's oldest friend and the one person who had ever needed Nate clean, no want tangled in it, nothing for Nate to be ashamed of in the small hours.
Nate had spent years not jeopardizing that.
He had been so careful. He had been careful the way you're careful with a wound you've decided to keep.
The lid had gotten heavier lately.
He didn't know exactly when he'd understood that Jude was free of Rand. Logically, since the alley. In his body, sometime in the last four days. The difference was load-bearing, and he'd been trying not to let it be.
"Nate."
Jude's voice was different. Not the careful register the ribs had given him.
Nate looked at him.
The plate was on the nightstand. Jude was sitting very still on the edge of the bed, his right hand loose on his knee, Benny between them with his chin on the mattress and his eyes closed. The hall light fell across the bruised left of his face, and his right eye was on Nate.
"I know I keep saying I don't need-" Jude stopped. Tried again. "I know you don't have to be up here."
"I know," Nate said, which he'd said before, and it hadn't been the right word that time either. Everything that neither of them were saying was like a scream in the silent room. Both of them with an ocean of words they just couldn’t seem to make themselves speak.
Jude's jaw moved. He was working out what to say, the way he sometimes worked out words when the stutter was close to the surface but hadn't arrived yet, the micro-pause before a sentence he meant.
"I don't know what this is," he said finally.
"I don't know what you-" Another stop. "I'm trying to figure out what you're doing. "
"So am I," Nate said.
He hadn't meant to say it. It landed in the room and stayed, and Jude was looking at him, and Nate felt his own grip on the lid start to go the way his hand had gone the one time he'd held a retractor too long in a surgery he hadn't been trained for: the slow involuntary give, the shake he could not will out of it.
He stood up. He meant it as an exit: chair back, door, the hall, the downstairs, Trip's empty crossword on the table.
He crossed the two feet to the bed instead.
His hand moved on its own accord, drawn by a force stronger than his own will, and as it made contact with the untouched side of Jude's face, a wave of intense emotion flooded through Nate.
Jude remained motionless beneath his touch, not a hint of flinching, but rather a profound stillness that spoke volumes.
It was the kind of stillness born from a lifetime of learned restraint, a silence that spoke of unspoken desires and hidden vulnerabilities.
And as Nate felt this unspoken truth reverberate under his palm, something within him that had long been clenched tight finally unraveled.
Meeting Jude's gaze, Nate was struck by the depth in those gray-green eyes, void of fear or reservation, just pure vulnerability and acceptance.
Without hesitation, Nate leaned in and kissed him gently, mindful of the bruises, the memories, and the unspoken name that lingered between them.
But beyond all caution, what consumed Nate was the sheer beauty of Jude's response – the softness of his lips, the certainty in his movements, and the undeniable connection that pulsed between them.
Despite the trembling in his hands, Nate allowed himself to be fully present in this moment, letting go of all constraints and self-imposed restrictions.
With their breath intermingling, neither of them dared to break the silence, for words would only diminish the intensity of what transpired.
In that shared space of raw emotion and unspoken truths, Nate felt a floodgate of emotions rush through him, overpowering any doubts or hesitations that once held him back.
As they lingered in that charged moment, on the brink of something profound and ineffable, Nate realized that in opening up to this unexpected connection, he had released a long-held burden that weighed heavy on his heart.
The relief that washed over him was chilling yet liberating, a tumultuous mix of longing, tenderness, and unspoken desires finally set free.
Nate rose, his body heavy with the weight of the moment they had just shared.
His heart pounded in his chest, a rhythm that echoed the intensity of his emotions.
He moved slowly, each step towards the doorway a testament to the force of will it took to pull himself away from Jude.
The wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet, a mournful symphony that echoed his reluctance.
He paused at the threshold, his hand resting on the cool metal of the doorknob. The room behind him was steeped in a silence that was both comforting and unnerving. It was a silence filled with unspoken words and lingering glances, a silence that held the promise of something more.
Unable to resist, he turned back for one last look at Jude.
The dim light from the single lamp in the corner of the room cast long shadows across Jude's face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the soft curve of his lips.
Those lips, still swollen from their kiss, were pulled into a half-grin that was both teasing and tender.
Jude's eyes, those deep pools of gray-green, watched him with an intensity that sent a shiver down Nate's spine. There was no fear in those eyes, no reservation. Only a daring challenge that seemed to say, 'Stay if you dare.'
The air between them crackled with tension, a tangible force that tugged at Nate's heartstrings. He could still taste Jude on his lips, could still feel the warmth of his body against his own. The memory was so vivid, so real, that it made his breath hitch in his throat.
Jude didn't speak. He didn't need to. His gaze said it all. There was no plea for him to stay this time, no whispered reassurances. Just a silent acceptance of whatever decision Nate would make.
And so, with a final lingering glance, Nate turned away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the quiet room. But even as he stepped out into the cool night air, the image of Jude's half-grin and those daring eyes remained etched in his mind, a haunting reminder of the connection between them.