Page 56 of For Your Heart
We sit on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, and eat our Cocoa Puffs while we watch something that’s really not at all interesting. It’s too bad manga wasn’t popular in the US and available on popular networking. They actually have gay kids in those. God forbid we let gay kids feel normal by seeing ourselves in cartoons or books or some shit.
My skin feels itchy this morning. That familiar feeling that tells me my brother is too far away, which is stupid since he’s literally like two feet to my right on Simon’s other side. I glance around Simon, and Declan meets my eyes. I can feel the way he’s uncomfortable in his skin too.
Maybe it’s growing pains.
Sighing, I face the screen again and continue to munch on my getting-soggy cereal until there’s nothing left but the chocolate milk. I bring my bowl to my lips at the same time my brother does, making Simon laugh.
My lips curl, and my stomach flips at the sound. I love his laugh. I love the way it makes me feel. And the amusement that glitters in his eyes as he looks between us.
You’d think that’s maybe why we’re so in sync. Because we like Simon to smile. But it just feels off when we’re not. If we’re on different pages or in a different book altogether, everything feels chaotic and unmanageable. It’s hell.
We pile our bowls on the table and then sit back, moving a little closer. Squishing Simon uncomfortably between us to close the gap a little more. He never complains. Never. In fact, a smile touches his lips as he loses himself in the mindless television.
I try to pay attention to the cartoons, but this morning, something inside me just feels unsettled. Everything feels twitchy and out of place.
Mom comes through the living room and looks at us. I half expect her to say, “Let him breathe, boys,” but she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “Take care of your bowls,” before disappearing around the corner with a basket of bedding.
We don’t move as we stare absently at the television. Eventually, I get up and take our bowls into the kitchen, depositing them in the dishwasher. Then I stand there, trying to figure out why my body feels unbalanced. Declan is fine. He’s right there! Simon is right there too. Why do I feel so… itchy?!
Sighing, I return to the living room and stare at them for a minute. I need something, but I don’t know what it is. Declan meets my eyes. Even if I couldn’t hear his thoughts, I can read it in his face. It’s making his hands fist and his jaw tight.
“Growing pains?”
My brother snorts in my mind.No. Well, maybe.
I don’t know what I’m doing when I get back to the couch and pull Simon to his feet; my brother following. Simon rarely questions anything. He just does what I want him to and then waits for us to rearrange. I lay down on my back and then pull him toward me.
Simon laughs, but falls to his knees on the cushion. I pull him further and he drops with an ‘oomph’ on top of me. That’s a little better. I look beyond him at Declan and he nods. Hovering over us, he shifts Simon, so he’s fully on top of me, our legs tangled together, and then Declan piles on top of him.
Laughing, Simon buries his face in my chest for a second, and my heart skips. His hands curl under me and he sighs, looking back at the television.
I grip my brother’s side above Simon and instantly feel better. Right here, with Simon still between us and I can physically feel Declan. My weird turmoil inside calms the hell down.
Leaving my hand on Declan, I tangle the other into Simon’s hair. As expected, I feel him practically purr. Declan’s hand joins mine and we’re connected in two places now. This is how it’s always supposed to be. The three of us. It’s like a current that’s finally been closed. Completed.
Declan meets my eyes, amused at my thoughts, but doesn’t argue otherwise. Not verbally and not internally.
I kiss Simon’s head and then turn to watch the cartoons, once more at peace.
* * *
We decidedthat Friday nights and most of the day on Saturdays belong to the three of us. Without Stommer. So Simon comes over and at first, it feels almost weird. Like we don’t know how to act around each other. There’s a brief hug and an awkward kiss when he walks in and I’m not sure if this is still supposed to be his home too, or if he’s now a guest here.
It remains weird as we eat and then sit on the couch. Separately. Declan and I are still nearly right on top of each other because how else are two men supposed to sit? Don’t answer that. But Simon is in a chair.
He glances at us a few times and then sighs. Getting to his feet, he leaves the room for a minute and I’m chewing the inside of my lip.
Why is this weird?
“Fucked if I know.”
Because despite our reconciliation and best fucking sleep of my damn life, and that he’s talking to us all the time again, there’s still a lot that we haven’t said. For all of us. I’m afraid that’s all having to do with his professor, and he doesn’t want to bring it up since it’s a sore subject and we don’t want to bring it up in case we slip and become assholes again.
“We can’t lose him.”
Declan’s thought is so desperate that my chest aches and I rub it. Simon returns with a bottle of water that he sips on. His dark eyes are on us, flitting between us. When he pulls the bottle away and caps it, his usual amused smile is on his pretty, perfect lips.
“You’ve gotten closer,” he says.
