Chapter 26: April 26th, 1992
The alarm clock woke Mark out of a dead sleep at six in the morning. He slapped his hand down on the button, missing four times and finally nailing it on the fifth try, grumbling and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. It took him a few seconds of waking up to process that his boyfriend was still on top of them in the small bed they shared, their bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces, like the perfect fit that Mark always knew they were. Every morning spent together reminded him of that. What wouldn’t he give to be able to stay like that for a little while? To enjoy the moment? To not think about anything except how nice it was that he got to spend this time with Cesar, when barely two years ago or so he couldn’t imagine ever having him in his bed.
Ha. The handsome stud Cesar Torres with pissy and socially awkward Mark Heathcliff, half-naked in his bed. What’s next? Seeing him at the end of the aisle on my wedding day? As if. One guy can only have so much luck.
…The thought was nice, though. For a moment he considered laying there for a few more moments to think about what that would be like. Who would they invite? Who would even come to their wedding? Would they both wear a suit? Cesar would have to wear his. Mark was reluctant to budge on that detail. Though he thought he would look just as good in a bridal gown… No, no, it had to be a suit. Would Mark wear the gown…? He cringed at the idea. He couldn’t pull that off if he tried. No, he’d have to wear a suit, too.
Could get a nice white one… He’d like that, right?
Mark stopped and ran a hand over his face. He was thinking way too much about something that wasn’t going to happen.
Our families would never come to see us and it’s not even legal. Never will be. Keep dreaming.
Dreaming would have to wait. If he didn’t get up now he’d fall back asleep. Sarah was relying on him to wake her up, and they needed to leave as soon as there was sunlight. If he dozed off now and they all missed church… try explaining that.
Though now that he thought about it, Cesar hadn’t moved at all while Mark was struggling with the alarm clock or deliberating over the details of a wedding that was never meant to be. He looked down and saw that Cesar was awake, his eyes tired and bleary.
“G’morning, baby.”
“Cesar? Oh, shit, you look terrible.”
“I slept like shit,” he grumbled. He pressed his face against Mark’s chest, but his cheeks were quickly scooped up in his boyfriend’s hands.
“Was I snoring too loud?”
“No.”
“Were you cold? Too hot?”
“It wasn’t your fault. I couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”
There was a pause between them. A long moment of silence and stillness, the only thing filling it being Mark’s thumb stroking back and forth across Cesar’s cheek while he searched for something to say. “Want to stay and sleep in? I’ll tell your mom you’re sick.”
Another pause. He seemed to be thinking about it. He raised one of his hands to meet Mark’s, letting his fingertips graze gently over his knuckles. The gesture leads Mark to think he’ll accept the offer, but he hesitates. “If I miss church and I’m not on my deathbed, she’ll put me on it herself.”
“Yeah, that tracks,” he said, even though it really didn’t. Both Cesar and his mom were devoutly religious, sure, but she wasn’t that strict. She wasn’t some sick control freak, or else she wouldn’t let him stay for entire weekends at a time, multiple weeks in a row. Hell, Mark was shocked that even she didn’t suspect anything at this point, considering they used to hang out over there every Saturday. Somehow she never thought to ask what changed.
Would she let him miss just because he was tired? Definitely not, sure, but if she thought he was sick, then Mark would have thought he’d get away with that.
He wasn’t going to press it. Cesar had to have his reasons for things. Even if they didn’t make sense. “Coffee?”
“...You drink coffee?”
“I try not to. I keep it for emergencies.”
“Okay. Sure. I’m going with you with or without it anyway.”
Mark kissed the top of Cesar’s head and squirmed out from underneath him. They both quietly lamented having to leave each other’s warmth. Every morning with him was the same struggle, but it was worse when all he wanted was for Cesar to rest. He shouldn’t have to go out looking and feeling so exhausted.
“Close your eyes for a little while if you want, I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”
Cesar hummed lazily in response. His body lay limp and exhausted, soaking in the last remnants of precious body heat from the now-empty sheets. That was the only comfort he had right now, and it was fading away. Staying in bed wasn’t worth it if Mark wasn’t there with him, and it wasn’t like he’d be able to catch up on missed sleep in the next fifteen minutes. He buried his face in the pillows, searching for any lingering trace of Mark’s scent to keep him company.
It pained him to be separated from Mark for even a few minutes. The familiar smell kept him at ease. Every Sunday was the same, the day spent wondering how he could possibly stay away from Mark during the week without going crazy. At the rate he was going, he could go crazy from having to stay away. How long could this last? These carefree days spent with Mark, pretending not to have a worry in the world? He knew that, soon, he wouldn’t be able to stay away. This would only get worse. For both of them.
He found himself peacefully dozing off to that smell, never quite falling asleep. It was too late for that. He could only rest his eyes for a moment.
There was a sound from across the room, and his eyes drifted back open. Mark was rifling through his bag. Cesar’s bag, full of his clothes. Clean clothes, but also dirty clothes stuffed in a smaller drawstring bag to separate them from the clean ones.
“Whatcha digging for in there? Taking your revenge by stealing my messy underwear?”
With a laugh, Mark stood up with an armful of clothes. “No, you little freak. I’m trying to be nice and take care of you,” he chided, playfully. Mark laid out the fresh set of clothes at the foot of the bed. One of Cesar’s nicer dress shirts, a charming sheer fabric that was more church-appropriate than the others that his mother begrudgingly let him wear to school, and one of his better pairs of dress slacks to go with it. He idly wondered if it was the same pair that Mark unzipped with his teeth.
Mark threw on a white shirt and sweatpants and left to wake Sarah in the next room over. Cesar swore in that instant, the room was ten degrees colder.
He pulled up the blankets and fell into a light sleep again. All he needed to do to be at Mark’s side was get out of bed. It was so easy, so why couldn’t he do it? Being with him had always been enough to help him forget the mistakes that he knew would bite him in the ass someday. Was that really so fragile that it could come crashing down, just like that? From being asked a question about how he and Mark ended up together? From being asked why he didn’t give up on him?
Even though at one point, he did?
Feet pounded down the stairs outside the bedroom. Only one set of steps, Cesar noticed through his sleepy haze, which were unmistakably Mark’s heavier footsteps. Cesar waited for a lighter second round to follow, but they never did. He smiled. Sarah didn’t want to get out of bed either. Funny girl.
This was one of those times where it was impossible to tell how much time was passing him by. Cesar could close his eyes for what felt like five minutes, and when he opened his eyes the clock would tell him that an hour had gone by. Most of the night went by like that. Other times, like now, it felt like he was drifting away in space for years. Decades. An eternity. Only a few minutes actually passed.
A side effect of being ripped away from his beloved. He was sure of it. When they were together the time flew by, and when they were apart the minutes were excruciatingly slow.
He hugged Mark’s pillow close to his face and chest.
The wait was always worth it.
There was a beep downstairs, apparently the coffee maker that he’d never heard Mark use before. What was Mark like when he was hopped up on caffeine? He was curious… He didn’t reach for a cup of coffee even on that one morning after they’d spent the whole night screwing. What was he avoiding? It wasn’t like he was on a diet. And it didn’t put him to sleep, otherwise he wouldn’t reach for it in “an emergency”.
If the morning after their little fuck-fest wasn’t an emergency, then what would be an emergency to him? So many questions. Sometimes Cesar felt he barely knew him at all.
Cesar couldn’t tell how much time had passed when Mark came back up into the room. There was a quiet pause after he stomped back up the stairs. Was he watching him? Watching him sleep? Again?
Creepy, creepy little Mark. Are you thinking of the things you could be doing to me? I would be.
Mark quietly stepped up to the bed, sitting down at the edge. Cesar’s racing mind settled a bit when he felt his fingers stroking through his hair. He opened his eyes to Mark looking down at him with those soft eyes that only he was ever blessed enough to see.
“Hey. Coffee’s ready.”
With a groan, he sat up. He leaned against Mark’s shoulder. “How long was I asleep?”
“Ten minutes.” He threaded his fingers through Cesar’s hair, idly playing with a few strands. “Listen, I can tell your mom you were so sick you were throwing up, and that I made you stay in bed. I’ll take the fall for it—”
“No!” he snapped, regretting it when Mark blinked at him in shocked confusion. “No, no. No. It’s okay. You went through the trouble of making coffee for me.”
“Sarah would drink it if you didn’t.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Didn’t say that. I’m just saying it wouldn’t go to waste.”
Cesar wrapped his arms around one of Mark’s. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t want to be alone, Mark.”
There. He said it. Though what he really wanted to say was, “I don’t want to be away from you ever again for the rest of my life”. But that was the kind of shit that sent men running for the hills away from their obsessive would-be brides. It wouldn’t sound any less deranged coming from him.
He helped Cesar stand. “Okay. You don’t have to be. Just putting the offer out there.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re just tired, Ces.”
Dragging his feet, he let Mark help him into his clothes and lead him down into the kitchen. There was a full pot of hot coffee waiting for him.
“You didn’t need to make so much,” he said, taking a cup out of the cabinet.
“You’re not depriving me of anything sacred. I also didn’t know how much you wanted, so…”
He pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge and chuckled under his breath. “Sarah’s going to get her hands on that shit for sure now. End of the world, and it’s all your fault.”
He checked the expiration date, uncapped it and sniffed at the open container, shrugged, and used it anyway. Neither of them could remember the last time Mark bothered to go out for milk, but then again, there was nothing stopping Cesar from hopping into his car and getting it himself. Maybe it was a silent game between them, waiting to see who bends first and goes out for milk. But if it looked and smelled fine, Cesar would take his chances. He knew Mark didn’t have the stomach to handle it—literally.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, as Mark leaned his back against the wall while he waited for the toaster to finish scorching the toast again, he was forced to watch as Cesar dumped enough sugar into his cup that his gut cramped just looking at it. He couldn’t stop himself from wincing as Cesar poured two, three, four—maybe more?— spoonfuls’ worth of sugar into his cup.
“Something wrong?”
Mark clenched his eyes shut and looked away. “This hurts to watch.”
He smirked and brought the cup back to his lips. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s hurting me. Like, physically. I don’t know how you can drink that and not suffer for it.”
“You of all people should consider yourself lucky for that.”
Mark blinked. It took him a few moments to process what Cesar just said, and what he meant. His face scrunched with recognition and disgust. “Don’t say it like that!”
He laughed openly and took a sip of his sugary coffee. Too much sugar. Just a bit. But he’d drink it anyway. The last thing he’d do is waste anything that Mark so lovingly made for him, and especially not after his little act of psychological warfare. Next time he should dump in a few heaping spoonfuls of chocolate syrup for good measure.
He set his cup down and fidgeted, his left hand folded over the other. “But, you know… Can’t say I’ve had any issues the few times I’ve done it to you.”
He shouldn’t be thinking about this right now. There were so many other things on his mind, but… they only made him want more of Mark. What could happen tomorrow? Or next week, or next month? When will reality swoop in to rip them apart? Sex might not always equal love, but it was Cesar’s best way of expressing it, and he was going to give Mark as much of it as he could before their world burned down around them.
Because he wanted Mark to know that he was desirable. Because he knew how Mark felt about his own body, and nothing made Cesar sadder than knowing the boy was looking at himself in the mirror and seeing himself as anything other than perfect. He wished there was a way for Mark to see him through his eyes instead.
But he shouldn’t be doing this. Not now.
But he was going to.
Mark’s back pressed into the wall; he could see it. The corners of Cesar’s mouth quirked up slightly. There was a vague, hungry look in his eyes that was all too familiar to Mark. He knew what was coming.
Cesar dragged his cup with him across the counter as he took a few steps forward.
“Cesar?” He swallowed hard. His mouth had gone dry. “What are you up to, buddy?”
He left the cup behind once he got past the edge of the counter. He pinned Mark to the wall, pressing his palms into his shoulders. If he wanted to he could have easily thrown Cesar off. He didn’t try.
Anything that Cesar could cling to, to rationalize what he was doing.
“Yeah, the topic’s gross as hell, but it got me thinking about what it was like to fuck you.”
He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be doing this.
It was how they bonded. How they showed their affection.
That was the problem, though. The closer their bond, the worse the pain would be in the end.
But he couldn’t pull himself away. He wanted this, he wanted to know that Mark wanted him and, more than anything else, he wanted Mark to know that he wanted him, too. And if he started to put distance between them, how would that make Mark feel? What if it made him think that Cesar was falling out of love with him?
There was no right answer. Every road was a one-way ticket to their own personal Hell. So why not make the trip a good one? Satisfying Mark’s needs was enough to justify it. Mark didn’t deserve to get caught up in drama he didn’t start, but it would be cruel to leave this cute, hormonal wreck of a boy to fend for himself.
So he held Mark’s frozen gaze, his own smoldering eyes giving away everything he wanted to do to him. The brunette’s eyes only cast downward at the friction of Cesar’s knee grinding between his legs.
Dark green eyes followed Cesar’s hand as he started to trace the tip of his index finger along Mark’s jawline, tipping the boy’s head up when it reached his chin. Mark’s eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open just slightly in a silent cry for more. Patiently waiting for Cesar to make his next move. So many things he could do to him right now… Any one of them could please Mark. He’d make sure it would.
But he pulled his hand back, suddenly bashful. Ashamed, even. This wasn’t the first time he forced his whims on Mark without warning. “Sorry, am I getting ahead of myself?”
“No, no... Please keep going. Please.”
Cesar averted his eyes and nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay, good. I just really need this right now, you know?”
Good. I’ve got him hooked, and he wants this. Nothing to worry about. Business as usual. He wants this. He wants this…
He wants this. They were usually nonchalant about sex, but now the reality of what that meant to him was sinking in. He’d never stopped to really think to himself about what that meant. For Mark to want him.
Mark wanted to do this with him.
Only him.
Pride and shame formed an uncomfortable pit in his stomach.
Can’t think about that now. He needs me.
Somewhere outside of their heated bubble, singed toast jumped out of the slots of the toaster. Mark didn’t make a move to collect it; he was too occupied to care.
But now what? There’s so many options… Do I turn him around and fuck him against this wall? Should I bend him over the counter? Can I hold him up long enough to wrap his legs around my waist and do it like that?
A million thoughts raced through his head.
What would he like the most?
Too much thinking. Those soft, kissable lips were right there begging for attention. He could figure out the rest later, or go wherever the moment took them.
He pressed his face forward and let his lips meet Mark’s, a mostly chaste kiss with a few hints of the tip of his tongue peeking out and tickling his lips. Mark grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in, and with a loud shared moan the boys traded tongues. Cesar’s tongue dipped in and out, rubbing against his, letting out a muffled gasp at the eager hand pawing at his crotch.
Panting with need, Mark pressed his face into the side of Cesar’s neck. Smiling happily, having forgotten all about getting ready for church. Cesar didn’t forget, of course; they’d still have time for that. They didn’t need to be out until sunrise, and he was already dressed. If anything, it was Sarah holding them up, and Cesar was just taking advantage of her probably still being asleep upstairs.
“I was wrong about that coffee,” breathed Mark, smacking his lips with the taste of Cesar’s tongue still fresh on them. “Tastes pretty good, actually…”
“Oh, does it?” Cesar reached back for the coffee he left at the edge of the counter and took a few hearty gulps before setting it back down again. “Help yourself, babe.”
Mark dove back into the kiss, scrambling to taste every inch of his tongue, moaning, his hand never letting up on the growing bulge in Cesar’s slacks. Cesar grabbed at Mark’s ass, squeezing and kneading and massaging him until he could feel Mark’s hips buck against his legs in search of relief.
Not today. You’re getting your ass fucked.
Breaking away again with a gasp and a whimper, Mark’s hands shot up to cup Cesar’s cheeks. “I need it, Ces… quickly, please…”
Cesar’s heart stopped. “Tell me what you want.”
“I… I want you to…”
Yes! Tell me! Tell me now!
One of Mark’s legs lifted up to wrap around his waist. The same move Cesar makes when he wants to tell Mark to fuck him against the wall, just like this, face to face.
“Can you two not?”
Both boys froze. Their heads jerked to the side to see Sarah, disgusted, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Dammit, Sarah!
“Fuck,” Mark cursed under his breath. “Sorry, Sarah. I completely forgot.”
Cesar didn’t forget. He was just hoping Sarah would stay upstairs long enough for him to wreck her brother right here in his kitchen.
“Did you have to start sucking face, like, right there?”
With a sigh, Mark pried Cesar’s hand off his ass and gently pushed him away to make some space between them. “Sorry, Ces. Save the affection for next time.”
Cesar shrugged nonchalantly and went back to nursing his coffee. “Next time? That’s so far away.” Secretly, he wanted to kill Sarah. He wanted to kill her so goddamn bad right now. That was the second time she’s interrupted them when shit was getting good!
“Oh. Yeah. Right, forgot,” Mark sputtered, walking past Cesar and scowling at the blackened toast.
Cesar didn’t forget that, either. He was, unfortunately, also very aware that their weekends spent together always came to an abrupt end on Sunday morning.
“Well, while you lovebirds are discussing… that… I’ll do breakfast. Don’t let Mark anywhere near a frying pan, I don’t like my eggs when they’re black.”
“I don’t burn them that bad!” he whined.
“You already effed up the toast.”
“I did it on purpose to wake you up with the smell,” he said, lying. He shook his head and grabbed Cesar by the wrist. “Whatever, we’ll leave you to it.” He dragged him out of the tiny kitchen nook, throwing Sarah the middle finger on the way out, and into the room with the small table where the two would share whatever premade food Mark had for them that night.
Cesar felt a little dejected from not being able to have their fun, and he was right about it being a while until they’d be able to do anything again. Once they left the house on Sundays, that was it; they had to pretend to be normal guys being friends until they made it back to this house the next Friday. Respectfully distant. Normal. Not gay, not in love, nothing beyond “Oh yeah, Heathcliff’s my bro! Would die for that guy”. Not even a friendly smile in each other’s general direction. Guys don’t do that. Well, they do, but not the way they did.
After an interruption like that, they needed a few minutes to sulk. And tuck their half-boners away. Though on closer inspection, Cesar had to hold back a laugh; Mark was obviously not at only half-mast. All the sails were up and the boat was ready to charge full speed ahead, and would have if the anchor known as Sarah wasn’t there to stop it. If he couldn’t tuck that out of sight in whatever he was going to wear to church, he’d need a cold shower to get that one down.
After a few minutes of silence—besides the shuffling of clothes from the boys trying to make themselves look presentable—Mark was the first to speak again.
“If you want… I could ask your mom if you could stay one more night, and I’ll bring you with me to school in the morning. I’ll tell her we’re studying for a test tomorrow.”
“Really? Oh, Mark! ” He flung his arms around Mark’s shoulders and barraged his neck and cheek with kisses.
“I can tell you’re in one of your moods, and I just… I can’t just leave you alone when you get like that. One more night. And it’ll be one less night without me this week. Sound good?”
“It sounds perfect. Thank you.”
Mark let out a long exhale. “You can tell me when you’re feeling needy. I don’t mind it when you get all clingy. I kinda like it.”
Cesar laughed. Maybe he was clingy, but wasn’t Mark being just as bad right now?
“Then I’ll tell you every day.”
