27. FightFlight
27
FIGHT OR FLIGHT
C lément stuck the joint between Mathias’s lips, chuckling as he did. “Let me light you up,” he said, forcing a smile out of him. After he did, Mathias took a long drag to steady his heart.
“So you weren’t afraid of me this whole time?”
“Afraid? If you’re asking if I ever feared you’d hit me, the answer is no. The only times you ever put your hands on me was when you peeled me off the floor every time I fell during P.E. Trust me, I know. I counted those times.”
Relief flooded Mathias to the point where he almost felt euphoric. He clutched Clément’s hands, who turned scarlet. “You were counting?”
“The only person I’ve ever seen you touch was Daphnée, so it made me feel special. Even when your mother got sick and you were… distracted… you always had a kind gesture for me.” Clément took his joint back, his other hand still clutching Mathias’s. After a hefty puff, he carefully blew the smoke to the side. “When you punched that idiot because he insulted me, the only thing I was afraid of was you getting kicked out. But, hang on! Didn’t you punch the same guy last year?”
“No!” Mathias chortled, and Clément’s gaze fell on his lips. “No, it was Mathieu, Sylvain’s friend.”
“Oh, that guy is so very punchable. What was it, then? What did he say? ”
“Something not worth repeating.”
“Oh, come on.”
Clément returned the joint to Mathias.
“Okay,” he said after a couple of drags. “So when I punched the guy who insulted you, his nose bled, so his girlfriend stuck a tampon up his nose.”
“Not bad.”
“Thanks. Because of that, people started calling me?—”
“Period Master!” Clément bounced on his seat. “So that’s why!”
“Right. Then last year, Mathieu started spreading the rumor that that stupid name was actually because of Daphnée. Because I made her bleed or some shit, you know, because I was her first.”
At that, Clément erupted in laughter. “Besides how vulgar that guy is, he’s stupid, too. Does he even know what periods are?” Still laughing, he laid his forehead on Mathias’s shoulder.
“I didn’t think to ask,” Mathias said. Clément’s hair was tickling the side of his face. “Damn, I think I’d been wanting to punch him for a while, and he gave me the perfect reason. I really don’t like people going on about Daphnée.”
“What about me?” Clément drew back and took Mathias’s hand again. After a hesitation, he interlocked their fingers.
“You what?”
“I’d love to ask you about her. Can I?” His palm felt hot against Mathias’s.
“Why?”
“Because it’s been torturing me for years. I’ve been asking myself, ‘Why, why on earth would he date her?’”
Mathias let him swing their joined hands while he thought about it. He was relieved that Clément had never feared him. More than relieved: set free. And maybe that feeling, coupled with the joint and the amount of whisky he’d drank, turned him mellow enough to overshare.
“Daphnée was my best friend. For a very long time.”
“So?”
“So I loved her.”
Clément cocked his head. “I love my best friend too, but I’m not interested in fucking her.” After a careful look at Mathias, understanding dawned on his face. “Neither were you, evidently.”
“I loved her.” Mathias rolled the joint between his fingers. “I sort of noticed a change of behavior, but I thought it was because she was getting older, you know, turning into a woman or something. I thought it was logical that she would go through stuff I’d never get. So I just kept doing what I always did, going with the flow. She was Daphnée . I knew she trusted me enough to tell me if something was wrong. And she did, one day.” Mathias drew on the joint until his throat burned and he gave a light cough. “She showed up at my place and said she was in love with me. ‘I can’t be around you if we’re not dating,’ she said. ‘You understand.’ I understood jack shit. Anyway, you know what happened. If I’d said no, she’d have left me.” Mathias found saying the words aloud for the first time was as painful as it was liberating. “You know, when my mom noticed something different about Daphnée and me, she asked me about it, but I was too awkward, too stubborn. I didn’t want to tell my fucking mom about this stuff. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ she said. But I knew her: she would have done anything for a friend.”
“But that must have been awful!” Clément said, the corners of his eyes reddening. “For you I mean.”
“For me ? What about Daphnée?” Mathias let out a dry laugh. “I let her live this lie. Anyway, she’s gone now, and good for her; she’s free, and she’s dating Sylvain.”
“But as I recall, you were dating a long time.”
“Because a few weeks after we started this charade, my mother was diagnosed. I had a good excuse to be a shitty boyfriend, and it worked most of the time. And Daphnée couldn’t break up with me while my mother was sick—or worse, after she died. She would have felt bad.”
“It would have looked bad, mostly.” Clément’s grip tightened around Mathias’s fingers. “I think she shouldn’t have given you this ultimatum in the first place.”
Mathias shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said yes. If I’d understood what it really meant… I had no clue what I was getting into, and I really shouldn’t have done that, I know that. But what the hell did I know? I was fourteen, and she was my best friend. And most of the time, it was fine between us; it really was. We were just hanging out, doing the same things we’d always done. It’s just from time to time I had to, you know, do real boyfriend stuff.”
Clément shuddered. “That’s what I said: it must have been awful.”
Mathias let him cling onto his fingers with a thin smile. “It wasn’t that awful.”
“But she’s a girl! And you?—”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell the difference at that point. ”
“Whatever you say.” Clément’s free hand came to rest above Mathias’s heart. “You’ve always defended her, even when she left you. Even when she started dating your best friend.”
“ She was my best friend. Not fucking Sylvain.”
“And now, what is she?”
“I don’t know.” Mathias pulled on the joint one last time and returned it to Clément’s lips, who maintained eye contact as he smoked. He thought of Alberto doing the same thing with Xavier. “Another bad memory.”
With a sigh, Clément drew him closer until their foreheads were an inch apart. “You always did so much for other people, and for what? You know Daphnée still speaks of you like you betrayed her because you weren’t a good boyfriend? No wonder why your sister couldn’t stand the sight of her.”
“That’s why?” Mathias’s eyebrows rose. “I always thought Ella didn’t like Daphnée because she hated Naruto.” He laughed. “ Mi ni?a preciosa .? 1 ”
The thing was, Daphnée was right: he was a bad boyfriend. Took forever to return her calls and took even longer to… Anyway. She was right. He was about to tell Clément, but the latter reached up to stroke his scalp, and Mathias grew still under his touch.
“And your hair?” Clément asked. “When the time came, you shaved your head alongside your mother. She’s been gone for years now. Don’t you want to?—”
Mathias jerked his head to the side. “I can choose to shave my head. It’s none of your business.” He gritted his teeth, cursing his bad temper. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” Clément’s voice fell to a whisper. “All I’m saying is… you don’t seem very happy, that’s all.”
Mathias hung his head. “I don’t know how to be happy.” He didn’t deserve to be happy in the first place.
His words hung in the air long enough to make him feel embarrassed. He could feel the temperature in the back of his neck rise up, and he was about to find an excuse to piss off when Clément blurted out, “What if I could help you?”
Mathias gave no answer besides a confused look. Clément cupped his face between his hands. “I could kiss you now. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I was twelve. ”
Mathias grimaced. “I had glasses at the time.”
“So? I liked you.”
“Okay.”
“I still like you.”
“Okay.” Mathias looked away.
“Mathias, you’re so sexy, even in that crappy hoodie. I’d really like to?—”
Sexy, huh? Mathias gave a faint burst of laughter. That was so nice of him. Alberto also used to call him sexy. Hot . He was often acting completely manic when they were fucking, like he was a different person, able to let go entirely. It was amazing. Alberto could burn with desire for a few precious minutes, then turn as cold as the dead as soon as he was done.
His freak. His demon. His… Thinking that word tore at his chest, and he gave a pained grunt.
“What?” Clément brushed his fingertips against his cheek. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“No, you can tell me. You can tell me anything.”
With a certain sadness, Mathias realized he didn’t want to. That despite this sweet reunion, Clément was actually more of a stranger to him than Alberto ever was. But they were alone in this room, and he was so sweet, and he wanted him so much that Mathias had the feeling he could make him come just by zipping his pants open. Give him what he wants , he thought. Such a good idea, the best .
What about what he wanted? Right. If that ever mattered, he wouldn’t have come here in the first place. He would be… No . Mathias swallowed the words, wrapped his arms around Clément’s waist, and kissed him.
It felt different, of course. Unfamiliar. Not unpleasant, not mind-blowing; just as it was before, with the others. But ultimately,uninteresting. Mathias broke the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” Clément panted.
Mathias cast his eyes down. “There’s…” Go on, then, say it . “There’s a guy.”
“Oh, no…” Clément released him. “You do have a boyfriend.”
“No. It’s not like that.”
Hope returned to his eyes. “Are you or are you not with this guy?”
“I’m not,” Mathias said, and his jaw clenched alongside his stomach .
“So don’t feel bad! I can be your rebound guy, or whatever you need.” Clément scooted to the edge of the desk. “That’s all right, really. I won’t ask for much. One night, that’s fine.” He took Mathias’s hands again. “What do you say? I really want to be used by you.”
Not a bad offer; not a bad offer at all. All Mathias had to do was let go. But then he recalled the time Alberto said You can have my body, everybody else does, in his bored, languid voice. A wave a self-loathing overpowered him, and he shut his eyes, his fingers closing around Clément’s.
The gesture might have looked like he was taking the offer, because Clément leaned in and joined their lips together again, and Mathias responded aggressively, desperate for that kiss to blow away his unwanted thoughts. Surprisingly, Clément was nowhere near as shy as his frail appearance suggested. Within a few seconds, his hands were already trying to sneak into Mathias’s pants.
Breath against breath, jeans buttons popping, and the memory of a smile he never got to see… In the end, all of this felt too familiar: a played-out song he couldn’t bear to listen to anymore. Mathias stopped him before it went too far.
“I can’t, I’m sorry.”
Clément’s fingers froze down below, and he took a breath before leaning away. “Do you love him?”
Mathias said nothing. There was nothing to say.
“Oh, Mathias…” Clément sighed, shaking his head.
“What? Why does it matter anyway?”
“It matters, Mathias! What the hell are you doing here if you love this guy? You should tell him, because there’s no way he wouldn’t—” He stopped himself, his teeth digging into his lip again. “You should tell him.”
Mathias had no intention of getting into this with Clément. Stepping away from him, he stuck his hands in his pockets and felt the comforting weight of the lock between his fingers. “Don’t you think I’m a bad person?”
Clément slid off the desk with a snort. “What are you talking about? What have you ever done that was so bad?”
“I don’t know.”
But he knew.
You let Alberto believe… His conscience nagged him in the back of his head. You encouraged him to believe he was nothing to you. Because the thing you were most afraid of was looming over you, and you only know fight or flight .
You couldn’t fight him… So you fled.
Coward .
Mathias closed his fist around the lock. “The last time we were together”—he gave Clément a pointed look—“something happened.” It hurts, he said. Mathias had hurt him . “He was in such a state… Anyway. I tried checking on him since, but he seems to have blocked my number.”
Clément leaned back against his desk with a frown. “What did you do to him?”
“I…” Where would he even start? “What if he’s afraid of me?”
“Because you’re a bad person?”
“Yes.”
“Hm.” Clément gave a slow nod. “I should tell you he probably blocked you and you should move on. I really should.” He swiped his tongue over his lip with a grim expression. “Go talk to him. Chances are, he’s as afraid of you as I am.” He gestured toward the door. “Now let me lick my wounds, please.”
Mathias shuffled toward the door, but he turned around instead. “Clément,” he said, his chest heavy. “You deserve better than to be a rebound guy.”
Though his eyes were now red and glistening, Clément still had it in him to smile. “Since you kissed me after years of pining, I forgive you.” He paused, his forehead creasing. “I hope I was helpful at least.”
He was turning away; Mathias stopped him, and, slowly and carefully, he kissed his parted lips. Clément returned his kiss tentatively at first, but then his arms moved on their own. He pressed Mathias against him for two heated seconds before pushing him away.
“All right, all right, no need to overdo it. I’m that close to kidnapping you already.”
Mathias brushed his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye.”
Mathias was already halfway through the door when Clément spoke in a mournful tone, “I envy him. Truly. He must be something.”
He’s a demon , Mathias thought, though his heart wasn’t in it.
“I used to envy him too,” he said, not looking back. “Then I got to know him.”
Mathias returned to the living room, where Eric was signing autographs and distributing them to the others, the tips of his ears all flushed. “What are you doing?”
Eric winked. “Your friends said that if I ever became a famous footballer, they could sell them on eBay.” While Mathias gave the group a reproachful look,he went as far as drawing a tiny heart next to his signature. “I like to be of service!”
“I can see that. Come on, let’s go home.”
Sylvain overheard him and let out a sound of protest. “Already? But I haven’t even talked to you—” Mathias ignored him, pulling Eric toward the exit. “See you around, then?” Sylvain called after them.
“I don’t think so,” Mathias grumbled, slamming the door behind him. He pressed the button to call the elevator and exhaled a breath of relief. As they waited, Eric stuck a stick of gum into his mouth— Tutti-Frutti —and pulled out his phone.
“I have to try to get into those pajamas,” he said as he typed, switching back to English.“Unless you still need me for something.”
“Sure, sure,” Mathias replied absently.
Eric looked up from his phone. “Everything all right? You seem…”
“Everything’s fine.”
“How come your jeans are open?”
“…”
Shit! His cheeks burning, Mathias buttoned himself up, but it was too late: Eric laughed all the way down, and he was still smirking when he pushed a confused Mathias into a taxi a few minutes later.
“Hang on,” Mathias said. “Aren’t we taking the train back?”
Eric gave him a pointed look. “You were in there a long time doing God-knows-what with your pants open, and there are no more trains back to Paris.”
“There’s a night bus.”
“Aww, buddy!” Eric’s laughter returned. “A night bus .”
“Sometimes I forget you’re rich,” Mathias said, scowling.
“You’re very forgetful, that’s for sure.”
The driver reversed onto the road, and the two friends were silent for a while. Mathias was grateful for the quiet, but of course, Eric couldn’t endure it for more than five minutes.
“Are we going to talk about what happened in there or?—”
“Nope.”
“Okay. But also, who’s Clément ? ”
“N-o-p-e.”
Eric pouted. “I’ll ignore you then and talk to Zak instead. ”
“Fine by me.”
Leaning as far from Mathias as possible for good measure, Eric resumed his text conversation with Zak. At this time of night, the roads were deserted. It would take no time to return home. Mathias felt strange, like he was floating; perhaps that’s what it felt like to be numb. In his pocket, the lock had turned hot from his touch.
Minutes later, Eric put his phone away with a cry of triumph. “ A moi les pyjamas ?!? 2 God, that was almost too easy. I thought he’d give me trouble, but me thinks he can’t get enough of this .”
Mathias rolled his eyes, but Eric’s laughter had him stretching his lips despite himself. “You’re so cocky.”
Eric popped his gum. “You like cocky. It makes you laugh.”
“Bull…” Mathias shook his head, still smiling. “Fine.”
Outside, there was only darkness, briefly interrupted by flashes of light. It was like Eric and he were on a train to nowhere. A train to nowhere . Someone would have liked that.
Alberto . His dad chose his name.
“My mother wanted to call me something else. Something French.”
Gabriel.
Mathias turned away from the window. “Are you in love?” he asked. “With… the pajamas ?”
An eyebrow quirked, Eric popped another bubble. “Huh? I thought it was obvious.” He met Mathias’s eyes. “Yeah, I am.”
“How does it feel, then? To be in love?” Mathias tried his best to ignore the frantic beating of his heart. “You’re just… happy all the time? Is that it?”
“Hmm…” Eric’s nose wrinkled as he turned thoughtful. “It’s a bit like a roller coaster at first. I’ve always been sort of happy-happy, but now I also feel… stronger? Like I’m not alone, you know? Zak really believes in me, and that’s just enough for me to want to be… everything.”
Mathias dropped his gaze down to his lap. “No one can be everything.”
“You can be everything to someone.” Eric smiled at the thought. “That’s it, really.”
Mathias didn’t think he could, actually. Be everything to someone. When he didn’t think he amounted to… anything .
“You in love with Clément?” Eric asked, not losing any opportunity to torture him.
“No.” Mathias felt his eyes on him and hurriedly changed the subject. “So the others, all these girls, you didn’t love them?”
Eric answered with a bright laugh.
Mathias insisted. “You dated them even though you didn’t love them?”
“It’s not like that! I liked each and every one of them. I just had no clue what real love was, that’s all.”
“But that’s what I’m asking!” Mathias said, frustrated. “How do you know the difference? How do you know if you love someone or if you just like them, then? How does it feel?”
Eric shrugged. “You don’t know what love is until it starts hurting. Really hurting.”
Mathias froze, dumbstruck. “Hurting to be around them?”
“No.” Eric looked like he was about to laugh, but he shook his head instead. “Hurting not to be around them. When Zak was with Alberto and I was watching from the side, knowing I’d lost him. That pain, that’s how I knew he wasn’t just a crush, that I really loved him. But in the end… it was all worth it.”
People kept saying that. Worth it, worth all the pain. Mathias’s father would say the same to anyone who’d listen. Knowing he would lose her, he would still do it all over again. What nonsense. Why would he inflict such torment on himself?
Mathias knew too much about pain. The force of it tore him in half when his mother died. He hadn’t been able to take a real breath ever since. He was standing in the dark, ready to snap. Losing someone you love. That’s pain. The day of the funeral was the day he promised himself he would never feel that agony again, because he would never allow himself to feel such love again.
Nothing was ever worse than this. Nothing. Never. Never again.
“Are you ready to talk, or what?” Eric’s voice startled him.
Mathias looked around him; they were standing on the front steps of his building, and the taxi was gone.
“… The hell?”
Eric didn’t notice his confusion. His eyes were full of concern. “Why won’t you let me help you, Mathias?”
Eager for the comfort of his bed, Mathias shivered in his jacket. “I don’t know. Maybe I think I don’t deserve you.”
Eric cackled. “Maybe you’re right. After all, I’m really awesome.” He waited for his friend to join in the laughter, but Mathias just looked embarrassed, his cheeks prickling, not from the cold.
“I…”
“What?”
Mathias gritted his teeth. “I love you too, you know.”
Eric’s eyebrows rose just as his jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s—that’s not what I—that’s…” He blinked several times. “Thank you? I mean… that’s nice to hear.”
Mathias scowled. “Like you didn’t already know.”
Eric opened his mouth, then changed his mind and pulled him into a hug instead. Mathias let himself be squeezed for half a dozen seconds before he felt he had to protest.
“No wonder why Kayvin hates you so much, if you were doing the same to him all the time.”
Eric laughed without releasing him. “I never felt like hugging him, unlike you; you smell nice. Stop rolling your eyes.”
“You can’t even see my face.”
“I can feel you rolling them anyway.” Eric released him, only to hug him again. “Hang on, little bit more.”
Mathias exhaled a sigh. He returned Eric’s hug, but only for five seconds.
“It’s not so bad, is it?” Eric asked, before they parted ways.
Mathias returned upstairs to a dark and empty apartment. He fixed his bed and then stood a while before his fridge. Starved, and yet without appetite. A familiar feeling of dread weighing on his stomach.
Never again , he reminded himself as he climbed into bed.
But what was it, then, that was keeping him awake in the night, the sheets crumpled in his fists, but a familiar old enemy? The specter of loneliness gripping him in the depth of night, its dark and smooth voice whispering to him tales of failure, of anguish, of loss. Laboriously kept at bay during those nights he’d held the one in his arms, it had finally crawled its way back with a new line…
This young man, you have lost him too.