Chapter 14 #2
"We had people asking the neighbors and families of the victims if they recognized either of the men in the drawings, and one woman said his name was Sam and that he worked at Bixler Auto Repairs."
The microwave pinged again, and Frode grabbed the plate and held it out to Nikolai.
"Why do I get a green plate and you a white?"
"Only I touch the white ones."
Nikolai held onto his gaze a little too long, then he nodded. "And only you touch the remote and the light switches."
"As much as possible, yes."
"But you're always wearing gloves." Nikolai aimed a look at his hands.
"Not always. I don't sleep with gloves, and sometimes..." He grimaced.
"Sometimes what?"
"Sometimes I don't want to wear gloves. People have touched things in this house, but by keeping them to a minimum, I don't knock myself out should I happen to accidentally touch something."
Nikolai studied him. It was a little unnerving, but Frode didn't move.
"You can touch people, right? And be touched by people."
"You've touched me." He could still feel the warmth of his hand on his shoulder from earlier today.
All Nikolai did was nod. "But you shy away from contact."
"Ehh...yeah, I'm not good with touch." Why were they having this conversation? "Want to see if there's a game on?" He opened the drawer with the cutlery and grabbed two forks and two knives from the guest drawer.
"Sure." Nikolai followed him into the TV room. "Why aren't you good with touch? It doesn't hurt you, right?"
Frode grimaced. "Salad? It's a little sad looking but still edible." He escaped into the kitchen. "Would you like a beer?" He raised his voice to make sure Nikolai heard him.
"Sure." The voice came from nearby and made Frode jump. Nikolai was behind him, not close enough to touch, but one step would change that.
"What are you doing?" Damn, his voice was too breathy for his liking.
"What?"
"Why are you following me?"
"To see if you need help."
Frode didn't buy it, and he did his best to convey his suspicions in a glare.
Nikolai held his hands up. "Honey, I'm not here to hurt you."
Frode snorted. "Right. I haven't forgotten what you were like when we were in school. I haven't forgotten what you were like a few days ago, either. You can honey and sweetheart me all you want, but it changes nothing."
Nikolai stepped closer, and Frode would've backed up if it hadn't meant he'd collide with the refrigerator. "Stop."
Nikolai did. He stood close enough for Frode to feel the heat of him, but he didn't touch.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
A deep breath. "In school when the team...eh...saw us."
Anger and shame warred in Frode's chest, but he hoped only the anger was noticeable. "Saw us?"
Nikolai's lips had been a hair's breadth away from his.
He'd been warm all over, buzzing with want and excitement.
Then he'd been humiliated, and the insults had hailed over him until he left for college.
Hjalmar never knew, no one said anything when he was around, and Frode never told him, but he suspected Nikolai had known.
And Frode hadn't known it then, but it had been one of the last times he could've kissed someone and have had the same experience as anyone else.
His powers had started to manifest shortly after.
At first, he hadn't understood it, and it hadn't been reliable, but he'd been scared to touch anything and anyone, but not then.
In that moment, he'd wanted to touch Nikolai.
"I didn't know they'd be there, Frode. I had no idea."
Frode snorted and stepped away, knocking Nikolai on his shoulder as he moved.
"I didn't."
"Right."
Something hard came over Nikolai's eyes. "I didn't."
He sounded sincere, and why would he lie about it this long after?
It was twenty fucking years ago, a different lifetime.
They'd both been different people back then.
It didn't mean it didn't still hurt, and as much as Frode wanted to deny it, it had shaped him.
Not solely. His aversion to touch and closeness didn't come from Nikolai painting a target on him in school, but it had contributed to how he saw the world and the expectations he had of people.
"Fine, you didn't. But you did nothing to shield me from the outcome. You stood there and watched them, laughed with them."
Nikolai winced and looked away.
"And then I had to live with the consequences until I could move away for college whereas you waltzed away and laughed with your mates at the pathetic faggot who lusted over you."
"It's not--"
"I was there, Nesterova. You can lie to yourself all you want, but I was there, I know what happened."
Nikolai opened his mouth, then he closed it. "I'm sorry. I wasn't ready to come out. My family never would've--"
"But I was?"
Nikolai scowled. "Everyone already knew--"
"How could they when I didn't? Before you, I had never considered kissing a boy. I liked looking at you, but it hadn't clicked in my brain, so how could everyone have known when I didn't?"
Nikolai stared at him. "Eh...I...don't know. I...You looked at me and I--"
"Right, so you assumed the entire school was aware, and throwing me under the bus was okay because you weren't ready to come out to your family, but I stood there with the entire football team laughing at me, and I had no idea what had happened."
He took a rapid step forward and was pleased when Nikolai took one back. Then he yanked open the refrigerator, pushed a beer at Nikolai, grabbed one for himself in one hand and the bowl with salad in the other. Stomping into the TV room was liberating, but it solved nothing.
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