Gene's on the phone, when Lora storms through the gate. Sitting on the back porch, telephone wire strung through the open screen door. A careful balance of the phone on his shoulder and the papers stacked on his lap.
"...Yeah. --Oh, hang on, Lora's here. Looks pissed. Better go. I'll call you back later. --Uh-huh. Love you." He hangs up. Waves at her, like he hasn't done a damn thing wrong in his whole life. "Hi."
"What the hell are you doing?"
Gene blinks at her, the very model of confusion. Infuriating. "Checking the kids' math homework. Just about done. Was talking to my mom. Aren't you supposed to be at work?"
"Day off for lab cleaning. But that's not what I mean, and you know it," Lora hisses. She drops down to the porch in front of him. Freshly redone. Still smells like the stain and sealant. "Who gave you the right to give my boyfriend the break her heart and I break your wrists talk?"
"Oh, that's what this is about?" He shrugs. "He took it alright."
"That is not your job."
"Look, if your dad does it, he's gonna go overboard and scare the poor guy. And you don't have any older brothers to do it, so... Oldest cousin. Absolutely is my job."
"Both wrists."
"Well, yeah. He can still play video games if it's his knees. It's gotta have consequences. And anyway, that was, I dunno, how long have you been dating him? Six months ago? So I mean, if you're just finding out about it now..."
"You didn't think maybe that was a little excessive?"
"Not really." He circles something on the last of the papers, sets it aside. "I've heard things about Flynn's track record."
"Unbelievable." Deep breath. He's got a point, about how long it took for her to find out. "Where would you have heard that?"
"We've got some mutual friends. And Lucy knows a couple of his exes. One of 'em in the computer club..."
"Okay, okay, I get it. But we're not even that serious. --Both wrists!"
"I'm nothing if not thorough."
"And a pain in the ass."
"That's me." He grins, collects the papers, stands up. "You want coffee?"
"Yeah. Sure." 5:30 in the afternoon. "So what, your sixth of the day?"
"Fourth. I've only been home for half an hour. Jason's practice ran long." He collects the papers up into two folders, one green and one blue. Picks up the handset, one-handed and precarious. "Kitchen's a mess, but... y'know."
Sure enough. Not an inch of counter space in sight as Lora closes the screen door behind her -- not that there's a whole lot to go around. Unwashed dishes and juice glasses stacked in the sink. The kids have, evidently, been making snacks. Peanut butter and strawberry jam, half a loaf of bread.
"...Hellions. Well, hellion." Gene sets down the phone on its side table, glances around to look for the offender. "Henry, how many times do I gotta tell you to at least tie off the bread when you're done?"
The recliner in the living room creaks; a quiet thud and some giggling. A few seconds later, the culprit appears, book in hand. "Sorry. I forgot."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
"I did, honest." Henry grins, hastily tying off the bag and scooping up the jars in the opposite arm. "Hi, Lora. What are you doing here?"
"Day off, thought I'd drop by. Got those?"
"Yeah, it's fine." Kid's got this down to a science, apparently -- sliding the bread bag off one elbow into the pull-out drawers. Opens the cabinet, closes it, opens the one beside it for the peanut butter. "It's fine."
"Four years in this house," Gene says solemnly.
"You've never been any better." Lora's watched him mix up left and right more times than she can count. "She comes by it honestly."
"Uh-huh." He pulls down two mugs from the shelf, and then, to Henry-- "Can you take Jason's homework upstairs? I'll make your coffee. Couple things on yours we've gotta look over."
"Alright." Henry picks up the green folder and sprints up the stairs, practically kicking the door open, from the sounds of it. Jason yells something indistinct; she must have tackled him.
Lora watches Gene pour the coffee, squinting at the second mug in amusement. "Since when does Henry drink coffee, anyway?"
"Recent. A month ago, maybe? Helps her concentrate."
"Huh." Lora hasn't been around as much as she'd like, lately. "Fourteen in a couple weeks."
"Yeah, don't remind me." A single scoop of sugar in one, two in the other. About equal amounts of milk. Passes Lora the first mug with a grin as the human tornado returns down the stairs. "Another five years and the kid's gonna take over the world."
"You can't just tell people that, Dad." Henry's glasses immediately go opaque as she takes her mug from the counter. She frowns, wipes them on her shirt. Probably hasn't cleaned her glasses in a week anyway. "It won't work if it's not a secret."
"Y'know, we'll be better off for it when it happens, but you'd better still call once in a while. --Can't tell anyone, huh? Not even Lora? She's got a laser."
Lora rolls her eyes. "It's not that kind of laser."
"But it could be. If you really wanted it to be."
"I don't."
"You've never thought about it? Not once?"
"Oh my God. I am not helping her with her plan for world domination." He's ridiculous. "Sorry, kiddo. Won't get in your way, though."
"That's okay." She follows Lora to the table, taking the chair next to her. "Gotta get through eighth grade first, anyway."
"Now that's a supervillain backstory if I've ever heard one."
There was only ever one reason why Mateo went to the gym- life as a vampire had awarded him with a great measure of strength and speed, without either being enormously taxing; but he still found himself lazily doing miles on the treadmill, hazel eyes fixed on the mirrors that lined the room. Some of the clientele was beginning to thin out, a side effect of his desire for a post workout treat. Today however, as he chatted idly with a woman who had taken the machine next to him, it was a man with a dark crown of curls that caught his attention.
Henry. He’d made sure to wipe the other man’s memory of him from the party, but that also meant he had to start fresh again. He ended the cycle of his run and hopped off, making his way to the weights where the human had taken up station. “Hey stranger,” Mateo greeted him- “I didn’t know that you came here too.” He gestured to Henry’s biceps, "I guess those don’t come for free, huh?”
"So when I talk about you to new people, what do you want me to say?"
They're sitting on the floor of Henry's bedroom, sorting out all the tapes and records he'd unpacked too fast and thrown on the shelf. Henry looks up from the pile, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Well, on Sunday, after church, I'm gonna have to introduce you to a bunch of people." Gene shrugs. "So am I saying, 'this is my son, Henry', or am I being nonspecific, like, 'my oldest', or something else?"
"Well, what have you been doing?"
"Hasn't come up yet."
"Oh. Yeah." Henry's eyes dart around the room. All the half-unpacked boxes; the posters they'd carefully taken down from his room in the old house; the new desk. Avoiding the one box in the corner. "I didn't know it was gonna be a big deal."
"It's not." An immediate answer. Suddenly and painfully aware of the sorting Henry and Lucy will be doing later, all the clothes he outgrew last year. Things they're going to keep for Jason, down the line, and things they'll donate to the church, come Sunday afternoon. "Your mom and I just don't want to do it wrong. That's all."
"Uh... I don't know."
"That's okay. You can think about it. We've still got a few days. --When we're done with this, we should probably make sure your dress clothes are unpacked. Probably need to wash them."
"Ugh. I hate those pants."
"You can wear jeans if you want. I am. Just, y'know, something without garage vomit on them."
Henry turns a tape over in his hands, putting it in the pile to his left. So that's where Gene's missing Clash tapes went. "...Is it okay if I change my mind about it, later?"
"Yeah. What's not okay is that you stole my tape. Give it here." Sure enough. "I'll make you a copy of it tonight."
"Sorry, I forgot I had it."
"Yeah, yeah. I knew that box felt light. How many more are we gonna find?"
Henry's grin answers that question on its own.
"But I mean that, y'know. You're not gonna figure everything out in two months. Takes digging. That's not a bad thing."
"It's not?"
"Nah. Nobody figures themselves out in two months. I'm pushing forty and still working on that, are you kidding?"
"Huh." Henry gets that look -- processing, accepting. "--Is it weird? This whole thing, I mean."
Oh. Well.
"It's got a learning curve," Gene admits. "But you don't need to worry about it."
"Well, I just..."
"I know. But that's on me and your mom. Not you. You just keep doing what you're doing." He reaches over and ruffles Henry's hair. Can't make it worse. "You need a haircut. You wanna go do that tomorrow?"
"...Yeah." Not exactly convincing, but he gets points for trying. "It's not that bad."
"You look like an unshaved yak, kid."
"I do not." Henry pauses, blinks. "...Do yaks get shaved?"
"When you're avoiding other things. Like laundry, or calling your grandma..."
He means your mom's parents, and they both know it.
"Have you and Mom told Grandma and Grandpa yet?"
"No. Not until you tell us to."
"Okay." Nods slowly. "How do you think they're gonna take it?"
"I don't know."
Half true, but only in the same sense that he doesn't know exactly where Lucy or Jason or Katie are, right now. Just that they're in the house. No specifics. Just the general vicinity.
And Henry knows that well enough. Trying to keep it off his face, but... well, he's fifteen. It's a work in progress. "At least we're not going to their church."
"Yeah. That's, uh... That's why we're not doing that."
One reason of many.
"Have you told your parents yet?"
"Nope. Not them, either." That, at least, will go a lot better. "Your mom and I aren't telling anybody until you're ready."
"Has that been weird?"
"You get used to it. It's all about context, right?" Gene shrugs. "If I can figure out how to use a text editor, I can figure out how to change how I talk about you when we're not at home. Command mode or insert mode. Son mode or daughter mode. Same thing."
Henry gets that grin -- the one that's a little too big for his face, like he's never quite going to grow into it. "That's so dumb."
"Maybe. But it's true."
"I should probably tell them before Sunday."
"I'll talk to them."
"No, I think I wanna do it."
"Really?" It makes some amount of sense, now that he's said it -- Henry's always been closer to Gene's parents than to Lucy's -- but Gene had been assuming he'd have some "here's what's going on; this is what these words mean" conversations first, just like last time around. "Alright. Well, we're going over there tomorrow night, and I think it's just gonna be us. I'll call and make sure. Let them know we've got good news."
"...Good news?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"
After all, this is the happiest Gene's ever seen him. Hell of a lot better than he was doing a year ago.
Been working really hard on the second installment of Henry’s story, and I wanted to share a bit of dialogue that I’ve been grinding through. It’s a conversation between Henry and Carter. No prose, only dialogue, which is strange for me, and I’m not giving you anymore than that to go on! Enjoy!
The scientific name for house cat that is the title makes sense, I promise. Just hang with me and my lame attempts at being clever.
“You’ve been… focused lately, on what truth means for you. If someone is being honest with you, if you can believe a story you can’t remember… if someone can be a liar if they believed wholeheartedly something that turned out to be wrong/untrue. You’re still there, I think. In a different way.”
“Sounds about right...”
“You’re doing well with it.”
“I’m not. I feel like a goldfish in a plastic bag. I’m stuck in my own fucking head... everyone’s just been really kind. I don’t remember much, but. But my gut trusts them.”
“Like I said. You’re doing really well with it all.”
“You’re all waiting for me to snap aren’t you?”
“Waiting for it, expecting it, preparing for it when it does happen however it does. It’s all the same to us. We’re just happy you’re awake.”
“...I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I. I feel like I’ve been a lot to handle.”
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you deserved the time and space. It’s been a lot to come to terms with. You’re in school. You needed to do some thinking. I can’t tell you I love you and not give you that.”
“Not for nothing, but... You said we broke up. A few years ago. Because of me.”
“We did. That… that was different, Hen- Aiden.”
“It doesn’t sound all that different.”
“It was. Really. We were immature, first thing. Second thing. You were struggling and hurting, and I didn’t have it in me to understand the way you needed me to. I tried to help in all the wrong ways and ended up hurting the both of us when it was too much. You didn’t want help until you realized just how far gone you were.”
“No one’s told me what was wrong with me.”
“It’s not something we — or you — like to revisit.”
“Tell me?”
“Hen-, Aiden, I shouldn’t-.”
“You don’t know how to call me anything else, do you?”
“You’ve only ever been…”
“Been what?”
“You’ve only ever been Henry to me. I’ve never known you any other way.”
“Just Henry?”
“Just Henry… Henry, Hen, H. Haz once, but it you hated it and laughed. Fritz, Fitz, Fitzy, honey, baby, babe… Gorgeous, sexy… Mine… Yours… Sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright. You’re… you really love Henry, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I love you.”
“I’m not Henry.”
“Not by name, no. But… I wish you remembered this, but I’ll say it again for you. Whoever you are, whatever you call yourself, whatever you end up doing, I love you. And… Aiden, I’m alright if you don’t love me back.”
“Are you really?”
“Not really, but I’m better at understanding someone where they’re at than I used to be. Because of you.”
“What did I do, Carter?”
“You… you were coping, by drinking. You hid it well. None of us knew. You were basically functioning until you, you suddenly weren’t. I, I bought you a lot of what you had hidden in your bedroom, and the guilt about killed me. I didn’t know what I’d been doing. You started therapy, you were getting better…”
“But?”
“You gave up. You quit going and didn’t tell anyone. Then, then you got me to take you to a party, at school, and you were drunk… And I couldn’t do it anymore…”
“You broke up with me.”
“Yeah.”
“Am. Am I better now?”
“You are. You’ve been sober for… four years. You’re doing really, really well.”
“But I don’t remember any of that… Is that why I’m not going home with you?”
“Yeah. June and Caleb, they know your warning signs and how to look for them better than I do. They don’t want the stress of this to send you back to that mental place.”
“Makes sense.”
“They should have told you that.”
“They’re doing their best… You can’t take care of me that way, I take it?”
“I know my limits. But I’m not pushing you off. I’m going to be there, I’m going to help. I’ll bring over photos, your clothes, Pixie if I can get her in the cat carrier. She misses you. You have some journals, in your desk, that you wrote during all of it. You still keep one, but I don’t know where that is. I’ll try to find them all. I’ve never read them, don’t worry, but. It might give you an idea on what you’ve been through.”
“I have a cat?”
“Yeah, Pixie. She’s an absolute menace, just like you. You feed her turkey bacon and act like you don’t know why she starts yelling when you turn the stove top on.”
“Wait… is she fluffy? And white-ish?”
“Mhmm.”
“Blue eyes?”
“Yup.”
“I remember that. Her. I remember my cat, but… but didn’t know she was my cat.”
“She’s deaf too. That’s harder to remember.”
“Do I… Do I knock on the floor to get her attention?”
Henry Fitzgerald, making a brief reappearance in my brain as I try very hard to finish the sequel to the runaway. I know I haven’t posted in a long time, and I’m still not 100% about being back posting. But I really wanted to post this excerpt.
It’s the first time in a minute that I actually wrote something down without giving myself a migraine that I liked in the end. Also, I have a cold and I’m a little bored rn, so enjoy :)
warnings | bbu, bbu backstory, extended family, family reveal;
~*~
The waiting was getting to Kieran.
Henry could tell.
The nervous picking at the skin of his hand. The overly-measured inhales and exhales, as if was hooked up to a precisely timed machine. The glasses on top of his head, glinting bronze in the spring sunshine.
Eli had had to clue him into that one; how sometimes Kieran found it easier to talk when the world was watery and he couldn’t make out so much as the hand in front of his face. He could be honest when he couldn’t instantly course correct for someone’s reaction. It was easier than hoping someone would keep their facial features completely neutral for the duration.
The longer this went on, the more wound up Kieran would get. The longer Henry went without saying anything, the worse his nerves would fray.
Cause and effect.
Not that Henry wanted that.
He’d seen Kieran flare out only once before — the moment he’d come to full consciousness and realized he was in a hospital bed. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t something he’d force a repeat performance of.
Leaning up against the Mar Y Cielo’s faded brick, Henry couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He couldn’t pin down a single thing to feel. Thoughts consumed the inside of his skull in a vicious storm. Words bubbled up, jammed up behind his teeth before vanishing, leaving empty confusion behind. He tilted his chin up to stare at the sky — a delicate blue shot through with coral pink, thin high clouds drifting through. The day moved forward. The turmoil was in his head, in Kieran’s head.
Henry took a deep breath, then another, then another. “I. Um… I don’t know what you’re expecting, Kier.”
“I’m not expecting anything.” Kieran pounced. He’d been waiting, words building up in his throat too, for Henry to speak. “I’m really not. You don’t have to do anything, I don’t want anything from you, this isn’t transactional, Henry, I swear it. Keeping it hidden didn’t seem fair, but I wanted to wait until you were back on surer footing to —.”
“How long?”
“Oh, right. A-about…” An embarrassed flush covered Kieran’s neck and cheeks. “Since the November—. The November after you got back.”
Henry turned to look at him. Fury held his jaw tight. Stubborn training kept his tongue still. Sadness and something he suspected was real fear pounded in his skin alongside his pulse. “Two years then.”
“More like sixteen months,” Kieran said quietly, then blanched. “But that doesn’t matter.”
“It really doesn’t.”
Kieran swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
Henry turned back to the sky and exhaled slowly.
“How are you feeling? About the possibility?”
“I’m not,” Henry said quietly. He stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, almost disappointed to not find a carton of cigarettes there. He’d quit months ago and had so far been successful at quelling the cravings when they crept up on him. Standing there, he almost wished he hadn’t. He bit into his tongue. “I mean, fuck. Kieran. Seriously?”
“Seriously what?”
“You’ve known something like this for that long?”
“I meant well—.”
“Did you? Did you really?”
Kieran’s hands curled into fists, his shoulders tensing hard. He closed his eyes as he spoke. Henry watched him carefully, knowing how close he was to jumping over a line. “I found out right after you got back. I only suspected, but I didn’t have any true ground work. By the time I had anything substantial, you weren’t doing well and didn’t need anything more on top of it. Eli and I both thought it was best if I waited, gave you time. No one else knows. Just me, you, and my wife. It will stay that way as long as you’d like it to, until you’d like that to change.”
“I don’t want it to change.” The words fell out of Henry’s mouth. “I don’t want change. I don’t want anything new. I don’t need anything else in my head, and I don’t fucking need this. Christ, Kieran.”
“Should I have just kept it to myself then?” Kieran relaxed a fraction, but kept his eyes shut. His voice was strained, thin and tense.
Henry pursed his lips. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I just.”
“Just what?”
“I don’t want this right now!” Henry burst. “I don’t want another thing that I have to think about and think about how I feel about. I don’t want something else I have to take to therapy because I can’t work it out in my head for myself. I don’t want to have to be anyone else, Kieran.”
So, I’ve been working on a sequel to Henry’s story for most of the year. I’ve decided I’m not going to do anything wild with it. So, there’s nothing stopping me from posting it here, is there? Tags at the bottom, I hope you enjoy!
Passover seemed like the best time and Eli had agreed with him. The big family holiday festivities, food, drinking, and distractions to cover if it all went poorly.
Henry was happy, had been back home and in classes for a year and a half now. According to June, it had been full of ups, downs, and a few hard left turns, but Henry had come out of it stronger. He believed he was part of a family, was worth going to therapy and doctor’s appointments; and, when he didn’t, his boyfriend was a welcome shoulder to lean on. Kieran was just happy their ice skating date had gone well.
The whole Garcia family had been packed into the Mar Y Cielo for most of the day. The bar was always closed the day before and day of to give Suzana Garcia all the room she needed to cook to her heart’s content. Henry, much to Kieran’s inexact disappointment, had spent that time with the Garcia matriarch and Eli helping cook, taking notes, and asking plenty of questions. June had said that fact of his training had become a true love.
Kieran had spent most of the holiday afternoon with June, entertaining the kids. Rosie, Gabi, and Sylvia were busy coloring and talking amongst themselves. Meanwhile, Esther sat on his lap, sleepily chewing the teething ring she refused to give up.
Kieran was glad his youngest still insisted on being held because he was vibrating with nerves. His stomach churned and he was half considering taking a pill to calm himself down. Instead, he held his littlest daughter close to his chest and carefully sipped a glass of wine.
“Alright there, Kieran?” June asked him.
“Sorta, kind of,” Kieran answered in an unsteady voice.
“Nerves?”
“Yeah, that obvious?”
“You’ve got tells, Kier,” June smiles gently. “What for? Gonna announce Cochran baby number three?”
Kieran laughed a little. “Oh no, no. Never, no more for us. Eli would kill me… Just, um…” He swallowed more wine, trying to stuff down the burning need to tell someone, anyone. “Just family stuff. New family stuff, I—.”
“New family, but not kids?” June leaned forward, interest writ large on her face. “C’mon, Kieran, gimme a little teaser. Please?”
“Well, um,” Kieran glanced around the room, then turned back to June. “You’re sworn to secrecy, okay?”
“Girl scout’s honor.”
“Okay… I found my dad,” Kieran said in a low voice. “My birth father, I mean. And I, I have siblings. Half-siblings, four of them.” He took a steadying breath. “I, well, I just found out and I don’t know how to feel yet.”
June grins widely at him. “That’s exciting! Have you reached out?”
Kieran shakes his head. “Not yet. I’m trying to figure out how to, you know? Eli’s helping me, but it’s still… it’s a lot.”
“I’m sure it is,” June says, nodding. “You’ve never met him, right?”
“Not that I remember. I don’t even know if he even stuck around…” Kieran presses his lips together. He didn’t think June would push him to say more, but he didn’t have to worry long. Sylvia started fussing about something — one of the crayon colors he guessed — dragging Kieran’s attention away.
June took Esther from him so he could scoop up Sylvia, who was now wailing for her mother. Kieran excused himself to the kitchen where Eli and her mother were doing the last of the cooking. More talking than cooking, really.
“Están más cerca de promocionarte?”
“Mamá, lleva mucho tiempo. Solo llevo tres años y estuve embarazada la mayor parte de uno.”
“Sí, pero eso no es excusa para ellos.”
“Mamá—.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Kieran said sheepishly, bouncing Sylvia in his arms. “Someone really wants her mami.”
“Would she happen to be four and cranky?” Eli smiled, wandering over with her hands out-stretched for their daughter.
“She would. Essie’s with June, perfectly happy.”
“I figured. She’s the easy one, even still.” Eli rolled her eyes good naturedly, cradling Sylvia and wandering back over to the small prep counter. She set the little girl down, wiping her tears, and murmuring sweet things in Spanish that Kieran still didn’t completely understand.
They’d been together for almost ten years now. Kieran had quickly learned to be content with his wife’s little mysteries and love her even more for them. Let himself turn sappy while watching her with their daughters. Let himself wonder what he did to earn her love and the two little girls he loved more than he thought possible.
“Kieran, come here. Try this.” Suzana waved him over, breaking his contented daze.
“Is it more wine?” Kieran teased, walking over anyway. It was either alcohol or food, he knew that much. His mother-in-law had been intent on feeding him from the moment they met.
Suzana shook her head and handed him a slice of something. “Go on. Sheifale made it.”
“Oh, Henry did?” Kieran smiled, finally seeing Henry perched on one of the countertops. He was on the phone — Kieran assumed with the boyfriend, who’s name he didn’t know yet. He was talking animatedly, wrapped up in the conversation.
Henry was smiling, laughing.
Kieran’s stomach flipped uncomfortably as he took a bite. He didn’t want to be the one to ruin that.
What he took a bite of was delicious - honey sweet and peachy. Lime cut through it, balancing out the sweetness, and a textured crust added another layer. Kieran swallowed and took another bite, making a noise at the taste,
“Good, isn’t it?” Suzana grinned up at him.
“Very,” Kieran said. “What is it, exactly?”
“Henry, mijito,” Suzana called over her shoulder. The boy looked up, dark hair flopping into his eyes. He smiled and waved a little at Kieran. “What did you make again?”
“It’s a tart thing. White peach and lime with cornmeal, graham cracker, and honey crust,” Henry answered quickly, hopping off the counter and walking over. He says goodbye to whoever it was and hangs up. “Is it any good?”
“You’re kidding right?” Kieran says before he can think not to. Henry’s face falls but only for a moment. Still, Kieran kicks himself on the inside. “Henry. It’s amazing.”
“Oh.” Henry beams. “Thank you! I’m just glad Suzana wanted to serve it, you know? She has a lot of rules for this whole thing.”
Suzana glances at him sidelong. “When you care about something, mijito, you make rules so it is always good. You care about the tart, so the tart turns out beautifully. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am,” Henry nods. He shoves his hands into his back pockets, chin tucked so he’s looking through his eyelashes.
“Don’t yes ma’am me. Makes me sound old,” Suzana smiled fondly at him. She then took a breath and clapped her hands together, looking between all three of them. “Alright, one last thing to do before dinner. Henry, you are relieved of duty. Go be with the family.”
“Yes, ma-.” Henry stops short, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. “Sorry. Thank you, Suzana.”
“Thank you. Now go.”
Henry nodded, not needing any more directive than that. He spun on his heel, walking out of the kitchen and back into the bar proper. Kieran stood, watching him go, stuck in place. He was thankful for the peach tart in his mouth, otherwise he would have chewed his lower lip bloody in nervousness. He wished he still had Essie in his arms, or even Sylvia. Someone to distract him from the anxiety flooding his system.
“Cielo,” Eli’s voice broke through his buzzing thoughts. Kieran looked down where his wife’s warm hand had settled at his elbows. She had Sylvia balanced on her hip, an encouraging smile meant just for him. Her green eyes, warm and honest, still cut down to his soul and held him in place.
“Hm?” Kieran blinked, feeling utterly stupid.
“Go.” Eli nodded towards the door. “Talk to him before dinner. Get it over with. I can see your hair turning grey in real time.”
Kieran took in a deep breath, holding it for a full ten-count before letting it out slowly. “You sure?”
“Completely. Talk to him now, give him the rest of the evening to digest it,” Eli nodded toward the door. “Go on. You know you want to.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Kieran bent to kiss her on the forehead. “Wish me luck, hamsar-am.”
“I always do.”
Kieran pushed himself forward, walking quickly back out into the open bar. His heart raced faster and faster as he went, forcing himself not to rush forward, not to look too insane. He didn’t want to set Henry off, didn’t want to scare him, didn’t want to give the young man any reason to not hear him through. He had full body goose bumps as he approached Henry, pouring himself a small drink.
“Henry?” Kieran started. He almost winced, his voice half giving him away.
Henry looked up and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Henry held up the bottle of wine. “Want some?”
“Oh, no. I have to pace myself at these things, I’m such a lightweight,” Kieran smirked.
“You? A lightweight?” Henry inspected him. “No way, you’re like six-four. There’s no way.”
“No lie. Ask Caleb or Eli… or literally anyone in this room. The four glasses of wine about do me in.” Kieran shook himself and pressed forward. “Hey, do you have a minute to talk?”
“Yeah, about what?”
“Do you mind if we go outside?” Kieran said. “I know that sounds weird, but I’d feel better if we kept it between us for a little bit. Shit, that sounds bad, sorry.”
Henry inspected him for a moment, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. After a minute, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. But if you try anything, I’ll scream.”
“Never in a million years, Henry.” Kieran said quickly, spine straightening.
“Kieran.” Henry’s head tilted to the side. “I was kidding. I know you wouldn’t.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah, of course. Um… just.” Kieran coughed and nodded over his shoulder towards the door. He led the way outside not knowing if Henry was following him until they reached it. He stopped right outside on the sidewalk, not wanting to get too close to the front window. Henry stood right in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted a touch to the right — just as he had looked inside.
Kieran felt the anxiousness creep back up again. Wrapping tight around his chest and throat. Squeezing from the inside. He should have taken a pill. He knew he had. He had decided he could handle it, that it would be good news, nothing to be afraid of. Now, he swallowed hard and reckoned with the realization that he was terrified of someone a whole decade younger than him.
This had to go well.
This had to go exactly, perfectly, completely right.
Otherwise Kieran might never forgive himself.
“So. The thing I want to talk about,” Kieran started, then paused for a deep breath. He really wished he had taken that pill now. “Sorry, nerves. I, um… Sorry, sorry. I’m not good at anything like this and I’ve been debating even talking about it for a while.”
“Kieran, you’re good. We’re good. What’s up?”
“Okay, okay. I, um, I took a DNA test a couple months ago, one of the ones you see on tv. You know I’m adopted, you’ve met Felix. But I never. I never knew who my dad was or if I had any other family except my mom, so I took this test.” Kieran is very aware he’s rambling. That he’s rushing and obviously flustered, but that Henry doesn’t look the least bit surprised. In fact, the twenty-four year old looks remarkably at ease. “Anyway, I found my dad. And his family. He’s got a wife, four kids, and, and they live in New York.”
“Congratulations,” Henry said. “But why are you telling me?”
“Getting there. Sorry.”
Kieran was scratching at the webbing between his thumb and forefinger; fighting the instinct to push his hand into his mouth and bit down hard on that exact spot. Bite until it hurt, until it was bloody, until he stopped overthinking. He took another breath. He’d do this and then go dig the pill bottle out of Eli’s purse. She always had it, even when she purposefully left it behind. He pushed his glasses to the top of his head, so he could still look at Henry without actually seeing him. Without being able to read the other man’s facial expressions as he spelled the whole thing out.
“My dad has four kids, but when I looked into the family, tried to find a Facebook or whatever, and I found out that one of them went missing. Is still missing.” Kieran paused for a second. “It was five years ago, but there are photos of this kid everywhere and… well, Henry. I think it’s you.”
Kieran closed his eyes as he hears Henry’s sharp inhale, as he feels the air around them shift and tighten like a rubber band pulled to its farthest ends.
“Holy fuck,” he heard the boy whisper.
“Henry, I—.”
“No. Shut up.” Henry said quickly, nearly panicked. “Holy fuck. I need a minute. Gimme a minute.”
Kieran nodded. “Take your time. I h-have more, but. Take your time.”
