At the End of the Day (Zeke)

[Christian Hart]

Christian trudged slowly, purposelessly through the park, on the receiving end of looks from smokers and hustlers, but paid no attention to anyone or the direction he was heading - nothing but his own breath, visible in small puffs. The bite of November made his skin ache in the places it was exposed; his thin fingers were nearly numb and his cheeks lost their flush, the blood rushing to his vitals. He had been outside quite a while, but despite the windy chill of November, he felt the coldest inside, in his heart.

He didn't know what to do. He’d fucked up big time.

"I have to go talk to her, don't I? Are you... Jesus, Christian, I'm so sorry!"

Noah had went after his mother, struggling into his clothes as he went, and all Christian could do was sit, dumbfounded, with half a dying erection and his hands fisted in the downy comforter. His heart throbbed painfully as he realized, with shaking lips, what had just happened. The tremor of familiarity rippled through him; unintentionally, he flashed back to a night not long ago when he’d been caught in the act, when his life, so comfortingly secure, was unceremoniously turned on its side. It’d just happened again, and history was now destined to repeat itself.

Sliding to the edge of the bed, Christian touched his feet to the ground, feeling the coarseness of his shirt underneath his toes. He leaned forward and grabbed the garment, as well as a hoodie that had been partially hidden under the bed. Setting aside his own shirt, he took the worn fabric in his hands, stroking the soft texture with a pained look on his face. As he brought it to his nose and inhaled the subtle scent of body wash, deodorant, and Noah, a sharp sensation tore through his chest. He was probably never going to be as close to Noah as he had been mere moments ago, would never smell his light scent again, would never hold his lithe body in his arms.

The thought broke his heart.

Muffled footsteps reminded him of where he was, and what was to come, so Christian set aside the jacket carefully, looking longingly about the room as he stood and put on his shirt. As he did so, he spotted all of his items, making a note of where they were so he could pack quickly later. Noah had once been forgiving of his actions, but he knew Mrs. MalachI would not be as merciful. He was going to leave for good.

Christian secured the last of the pearly buttons, hands still trembling unmercifully, and crossed the room to the hallway, spared the luxury of having a doorknob to turn and another handful of seconds to delay the imminent confrontation. Voices echoed up the staircase, stern and angry and desperate, and for a brief moment, Christian considered breaking into a run, anything to escape from the painful humiliation and the inevitable destruction of everything they’d known to be safe and familiar. But he remembered the last time this had happened, and how difficult it was to explain to his parents his feelings and actions, to justify his love to their intolerant ears all on his own. He couldn’t abandon Noah. No, he and Zeke didn’t stand a chance, too inexperienced to know important it was to stay together. But maybe there was hope for them. Maybe there was nothing for them. The harsh gaze of reality looked at him, and he gathered himself enough to look defiantly back. He dutifully made his way down the stairs.

Unaware that he had slowed to a stop, Christian blinked the blank stare from his eyes and looked across the lake, particularly calm and still. The frosty grass crunched under his feet as he walked towards the edge, and he confronted the reflection in front of him.

“Who can I turn to now?“ he asked himself, expecting an answer from the dark doppelganger who looked confused at the inquiry. A hollow wind passed through him and he shivered, the involuntary motion finally bringing him back, the reality of his situation apparent once again. He needed to find somewhere to go and couldn’t rely on his reflection to tell him where. The sun had long set, the lightest clouds on the horizon a voluminous purple, and it was getting harder and harder to see. His fingers burned from the cold and his nose felt non-existent.

Eyes skimming across the surface, he looked across the lake to a patch of shady trees and saw through them, a mile away, what was once his home. It was the answer. The time to go home had arrived, though he felt it had come too early. Christian cracked his knuckles, preparing to do the hard work of returning to a place he wasn’t welcome and trying to fit into a life he had outgrown.


---


Christian walked the brick footpath outside of his house slowly, taking in the expansive, white facade. He didn't want to go home. He missed home. He wanted a hug from his mother. He wanted to turn around and never look back. There were so many bad and good feelings associated with the building in front of him that he physically needed to stop and decide whether or not he was really going to return.

And then another breeze rolled swiftly by, reminding him that he didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter.

He approached the door on numb toes and tugged on the doorknob, unsurprised to find it locked. Neither of his parents' cars were in the driveway and the house was silent, spare the audible buzz of the porch light. Setting down his duffel bag, he dug through his jeans pockets, pulling out his house key along with lint and a movie ticket stub. Drive Me Crazy. A terrible movie, but he and Noah saw it on a whim anyway, daring to hold hands through the previews until a group of kids from school walked into the theater. Later, when Christian had laid beside him under the sanctuary of his duvet, he had confessed to Noah that he had wanted to kiss him right then and there so they all could see. Noah had laughed quietly and smiled at the possibility. But the death of that possibility was the last thing he needed to think about. Christian was going to have plenty of time obsessing over how he practically tore Noah's life apart.

He slid the key in the lock and turned the handle -

But it didn't move.

Christian, who had leaned his weight into the door, fell against it abruptly as he scrutinized the door knob. He jiggled the key, tried the reverse direction, wrenched the knob and-

They had changed the locks.

They had changed the fucking locks. They had locked him out of the home he had been raised in four eighteen years, out of the prison that had held him in, out of the picture perfect life he had tried so hard to maintain. Christian stared at the door, slid his hands down the prim design, and pushed slightly, as if the gentle action would seduce the door to open. Staring in disbelief, cold stinging his cheeks, he felt something inside himself break. It couldn’t have been his heart - that had already been done for him; rather it was a control he had mustered through the confrontation with Mrs. MalachI, the calm demeanor that kept his eyes dry and his lips from quaking. Christian ground his teeth in utter frustration and banged his fists violently against the door, one after the other, until his legs couldn’t endure the stress running through his body and gave out from underneath him. Tears sprung from his eyes without hesitation or pause, and he held himself as he fell to the ground, sobs shaking him inside out.


---

Christian was finally warm - that was, warmer than he had been. His body had shook itself hot, and the amount of walking he was doing made a slight, clammy sweat cling to the back of his neck. It wasn’t much, and it was damn uncomfortable, but he felt obligated to be grateful for it. At least he wasn’t going to die from hypothermia, although with the way things were turning out, a dark place in himself told him that it wouldn’t be such a bad alternative to what life he had left. Wondering exactly when he had started harboring such a dramatic outlook on life, he didn’t have much time to become preoccupied with the reasons as he had arrived at his destination.

He hadn't been to Zeke's house many times when they were together; they had spent the majority of their time out on dates and as far away from their homes as possible, spare the few hot sessions that required a more intimate environment. Even then they usually took over Christian's room, as his parents were often out and they could feel free to fool around as they pleased. So it wasn't much of a surprise when he had to study the block of houses before him, recalling the exterior that felt the most familiar. Taking slow, decisive strides down the broken pavement, he squinted, shifting his eyes from house to house, and recognized the third house down as his ex-lover’s.

Christian hesitated a moment before knocking. He remembered how nervous he had been to see Zeke nearly months ago, how bittersweet their last meeting was, what his father did to him. The last thought almost made him turn on his heels and walk away, ashamed for causing him so much grief, but Christian had already been let down by his family - being rejected by his ex-boyfriend couldn’t do much more harm.

Adjusting the heavy duffel on his shoulder, he rapped his knuckles, which ached painfully, against the door. He felt he exhaustion tug at his eyes, the weight of his decisions on his heart, and hoped for some relief. Christian wasn’t sure if he really deserved it, but he was just so done with feeling guilty for the night that he didn’t harbor enough humility to think he didn’t.

[Zeke Nayakan]

Zeke had just gone through a very long day. There had been nothing specific to make it a long day. He hadn’t woken up any earlier than usual. He had gotten a decent night’s sleep. But there was just something about the day that made it seem to drag on forever. Once he woke up it felt like an eternity until it was lunch time, and then another eternity until it was time for dinner. He had cooked dinner for his family that night, trying out a new chicken recipe he had gotten off of the internet a few days before. The meal had been delicious, which was good. When Zeke tried new things out it was always one of two things: amazing or terrible. There was never an in between.

Full from dinner, Zeke had set about doing some mindless tasks around the house, starting with the dishes. His family had eaten late tonight since his dad had to work late that night, and it wasn’t until 6:30 that they had actually sat down to eat dinner. By the time the chatter was done and the food was eaten it had been closer to 7:30, and so by the time he had started the dishes it was practically a quarter to eight. The fact that he was doing these chores so late was not helping to make the day feel any shorter. He still had studying to do, and his room looked like a hurricane had hit it… why did life always seem like it was so busy, even when he really didn’t have a whole lot to do?

Zeke was elbow-deep in the dishwater when he thought he heard a knock at the door. It was pretty late, too late for it to be some random solicitor. He knew that he wasn’t expecting anyone, and the lack of response by his parents was a sign that they hadn’t been, either. He always knew when his mother planned on having someone stop by, even if it was just to pick up a piece of paper, because she would clean anything visible from the front door and spray the air until you were choking on a terrible vanilla scent.

“MOM! DOOR!” Zeke called, using the metal scrubber on the pan from earlier. They really needed to invest in some better cookware, because this was just ridiculous. His mother didn’t respond, though, and Zeke looked around. He heard footsteps walking towards the door and assumed his mother was going to answer it. Instead, his father poked his head into the kitchen with a curious and mildly concerned expression. “You may want to answer that, Zeke. I believe it’s for you.”

Now confused and curious himself, Zeke took a moment to wipe his hands and arms with the nearest dry towel before making his way to the front door. He looked through the peep hole first, and nearly did a double take. It was Christian. Christian Hart was standing on his doorstep with a duffel bag on his shoulder. And he didn’t look as if he had an easy day. Without any more hesitation Zeke hurried to unlock the door and open it.

“Christian.” The name escaped his lips before he had time to think about it, sounding astonished and unbelieving. “I mean, hey. Are you okay?” Zeke had been about to jump right into the formalities of something like this when he noticed the sadness in Christian’s eyes. And now that he was looking at his eyes he could see that they had a certain sheen to them, as if tears were about to well over at any second. No matter what had happened between them, he knew Christian well enough to tell that something was terribly wrong.

“Of course you’re not, that’s a ridiculous question. Come in,” he said, realizing that in the unexpectedness of it all he was losing every bit of common courtesy and common sense. Christian was cold, it was freezing out, and here he was questioning him on the porch! “Here’s a blanket,” he said, grabbing it from the sofa in the adjoining living room but not going in. His dad was in there watching the television and he was pretty sure Christian didn’t want an audience right now. “Come into the kitchen, I can make you something.” How long had he been outside? His nose was so red… “Something warm. Have you had dinner? Do you want tea or hot chocolate?”

Zeke stopped walking around the kitchen and looked back over at Christian, hoping he wasn’t already scaring him away. Just the sight of Christian showing up on his doorstep like that had sent his brain into overload. He was sure that he wouldn’t have come unless he really needed help, even if it was just someone to talk to. Zeke’s instinct was to try and do everything at once, which was obviously too much. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do in this situation. They hadn’t ended things on bad terms, but he hadn’t seen him in months. He had no clue what to say, what to ask. He just wanted to go over and give him a giant reassuring hug, but he wasn’t sure if that would make Christian uncomfortable.