Peter & Austin (Chapter 7)

Peter

I wasn't at all prepared for the horrifying words Austin had just spoken.  I was silent, my mind marathoning through a spectrum of emotion, as he sat back clutching his stomach with a disgusted grimace on his reddened face.  I rubbed his back, instinctively trying to comfort his trembling body.  My mind played this backwards film reel of Austin and my encounters, embedding them with gory scenes of the violence, with unspoken shame, the compounded grief, and the unforgiving hurt that he surely was experiencing during all of it.  During the euphoric moments, the quiet moments, and those seemingly carefree moments, how could he possibly forget?  All the magazine pages, the advertising campaigns, the catwalks selling sex and lust...how could he tolerate the memories then?  I couldn't think of anything more consoling than just the act of being there, actively listening, and giving him stability and reassurance.

"Austin. I'm so sorry.  I had no idea,"  I started cautiously--gently, and his beautiful eyes looked back at me; resonating with shame, "but I'm glad you're telling me."

His levy of calm broke once more and he wrapped himself around me.
"God...Peter I didn't want to say it--" he said through tears.  I could feel his body hot with distress, "I shouldn't have--it just came out so fast.  I hate it.  I hate it about me.  I don't want it."

"Austin.  It's not your fault.  Hey,"  I pulled back looking at him with assurance, "You needed to get this out, and we're going to get through it.  I'm here for you and I'm not going anywhere."

We sat listening to Otis' soulful words float over the realizations.  Austin's breathing became less erratic.  The quiet melody seemed to be soothing, and his cheek was pressed against my chest as he spoke quietly.

"He said he wanted me to feel special and that it was okay to be confused.  He said he loved me and he'd never hurt me, but that it was our secret.  I couldn't tell my mom...I felt like I'd ruin our family.  It didn't feel right, but he was my dad and I was supposed to love and respect him...I was supposed to trust him.  He was always there for us, you know?  He was a good dad..."

Austin trailed off unconvincingly as he paused.  My lips were drawn in a frown, and the last part made me cringe in disgust.  His dad was mentally ill, thieving, and fucking perverse, I thought.  It was unfair that he was dead...Austin didn't get the satisfaction of seeing him held accountable for what he'd done.  He'd left everyone here to feel his pain instead.  He'd left my love, my mate to suffer in excruciating silence.  Anger and then sadness clogged up in my throat and I had to watch my tone.

"Austin, he had no right.  None.  He may have told you those things, but he was manipulating you.  What he did was so wrong."  I kept my anger in check...that was the last thing Austin needed to hear right now.  Austin sat up and nodded, drawing his knees to his chest defensively.

"I know,"  He hugged his knees looking at me worriedly, and then shook his head, "Peter what do I do with this?  My mom is--she's in a fucking wheelchair because of him.  She doesn't need that hurt too...I couldn't ever tell her.  My sister wouldn't believe me...she had no idea.  I was so scared and I didn't want her to be scared, too...but if he--if he touched her..."

I held on to him...the anger in his voice was made apparent with his clenched jaws as he cringed with the realization.  He knew what he had to do.  I wondered how he'd kept it in for so long...and I wished he'd told me sooner.

"You're so strong, Austin...you know what you need to do."  I said after a while, and I took his hand, "And I'm right here whenever you need me.  We're going to work through this, okay?  Your sister needs to know...and your mom deserves the truth.  Then we'll do whatever...go to Canada, or relax in Hawaii...hell, we'll go to India and eat real naan," I reassured him,  "You're doing the right thing."

"Peter,"  he said, smiling a little and wiping at his eyes, "...thank you for not running away."

"Austin!"  His assumption was ludicrous, and I was surprised he'd even said it out loud, "Of course not.  I'll always be here for you."


Austin

I turned all night with emotion as fear, anger, shame, guilt, and relief washed over me like watercolors mixing to nauseating shades of brown and puke green.  I'd just told Peter, the person I love the most, something so disgusting...let loose with the blackest, rotting tangle of shit festering inside of me...and here he was contentedly sleeping right beside me.  I was afraid he would think he shouldn't sleep with me, and I was relieved when he laid next to me and turned the lights off like always.  He was okay with me just holding his hand, and he still kissed my lips and played with my hair.  He was concerned, I could see it in his eyes, but he didn't ask a lot of questions and he didn't make our being together awkward.

Honestly, I was afraid Peter would think I wasn't really gay because I'd read some article online where some medical professional thought that gay men who'd been raped sometimes were just looking for a supportive male figure in their lives.  Maybe that was true...he was so unbelievably supportive, but there was no denying my physical attraction to him, either.  What did it matter if that was true?  I still loved him, and he'd shown that he loved me too.

I'd conjured up these scenarios of how anyone might react if I told them.  I could see my mother collapsing with grief, and overdosing on pain pills, or just giving in to her broken heart and reduced existence.  I could see Peter saying he was sorry, but he couldn't be with someone so ridiculous as to have been raped, and walk out the door with Sam in his arms.  I could see Amy accusing me of lying, and putting it out into industry circles so I never got a job again.  I could see Eric wrestle me to the ground and with every punch, he'd ask why I didn't do something, when he hadn't done anything, either.  We'd both be gridlocked; consumed with our guilt, and anger at not having helped ourselves or the other.  Every situation hurt my heart and made me sick and so I didn't tell him or anyone else.

My body was still recovering from a massive adrenaline rush, it seemed, as every part of me felt weak, exhausted, and heavy.  I describe it objectively like this because my brain was still a little bit in shock, I think.  I couldn't really feel or remember what happened straight away.  Upon opening my eyes, however, things started coming back...I remembered I wasn't alone.  He must have stayed there with me all night.  Was it night?  How long had I been sleeping?  I felt confused and struggled to clarify my surroundings.  The sheets felt prickly with dried blood on my exposed skin under the blankets wrapped around me, and daylight peeked through the blinds on the window in my room.  Peter sat next to me in his clothes from the day before with concern on his face and in his voice.
"Austin."
He was gentle, and reassuring.  I swallowed hard, and looked at him, squinting as tears hit my eyes.  My arm had been violently twisted, and the metallic taste in my mouth made me nauseous.  My head began throbbing with such force, I was sure it was visibly pulsating.
"Peter..."  I started, while my voice cracked hoarsly, swelling with tears. "Peter, I didn't...He just--"
My body felt bruised as I tried to sit up and and then I laid back down with the growing pain.
"Hey I know, I know...it's okay..."  He said quickly and calmingly, "Just relax, I'm here."
"Fuck, Pete...my head..."  I gingerly touched my face, remembering the blow to my jaw that must have put me out.
"I know, I've been putting ice on it...here..." He grabbed the ice wrapped in his shirt and put it in my hand.
"Thanks..."  I touched his shirt to my cheek, and the endorphins started kicking in.  I tried sitting up, successful this time. "Peter, I'm so sorry, I--"
"Austin, don't apologize...this isn't your fault." The sternness in his voice dissipated quickly, "I'm just glad I got here when I did."
I reached for him, and recoiled involuntarily, glancing towards the open door, then to him, worried and ashamed.  He wrapped his arms around me and gently pulled me in.
"Austin, hey, no...it's just us now, you're safe...we're okay."
In his arms was the only place I did feel safe.  I layed my head on his shoulder against his neck, and the pain came out of me in sobs.

I awoke from the terror with my head resting in between Peter's pillow and mine in our bedroom.  I was crying into the pillow with embarrassing, uninhibited sobs, and my heart was beating with great speed.  I now realized I'd been dreaming, and that Peter was holding on to me, and watching as I emptied my tear ducts, probably horrified.  I squinted over my shoulder at him self-consciously, trying to compose myself long enough to say good morning...anything to stop crying.

"Hey,"  I managed with a little smile, turning over to face him as I wiped at my eyes.  I felt I should apologize for probably waking him and then scaring him, "Sorry Pete."
He hugged me closer to him and I then noticed the tears in his eyes.
"It's okay," he said as he rubbed my arm, with a little smile, "...are you alright?"

I wiped his cheek, frowning.  Him crying over me made me want to cry all over again.  I nodded.
"You were crying,"  I stated; knowing I'd caused him to, and feeling hurt crawl through me, "Aw baby, please don't."

"Austin,"  He looked at me with furrowed brows, "You were calling out for me and then pushing me away.  I thought you were awake, and then I realized you were still asleep...I didn't know how to help you."

I paused in hesitation.  I often had dreams about it and woke up fighting no one but myself, but I couldn't tell him that.

"I'm sorry...you were there in my dream,"  I sniffed, blinking back tears of relief, "You came in to my old room, pushed him out of my bed and protected me saying everything was okay...and it was."
I held onto him under our covers, the weight I'd carried seemed to be dislodged and then almost vanish completely.