Lulu nodded, and Xavi moved around to his side, wrapping an arm around Lulu’s waist, holding him against his side. The first step was excruciatingly painful, Lulu’s knees pounding with the aftermath of the impact from falling. The torn denim scratched the gashes with every step he took, and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip to stifle his whimpers. They’d barely made it to the main path before it started raining again. Xavi cursed under his breath as icy drops of water the size of quarters hit them. They’d be soaked by the time they made it to the parking area.
When Lulu shivered while a broken sob spilled from his lips, Xavi stopped, a determined look on his face as he seemed to contemplate something. Then, before Lulu knew what was happening, Xavi blurted, “That’s it. I’m fucking carrying you,hermano.” Tightening his hold around Lulu’s waist, he threw his other arm behind Lulu’s legs and easily lifted him off the ground as though he weighed nothing. Before he could object, Lulu was airborne, then settled comfortably in Xavi’s strong hold.
“Xavi…” he breathed, his voice trembling. For a brief moment, their gazes connected, their eyes locked on each other. Then something moved through Xavi’s that was so tender, Lulu started crying again.
“Please don’t cry, baby.” Xavi adjusted him in his hold, then pressed a gentle kiss against Lulu’s temple. “Let’s get you home, okay?”
“Okay,” Lulu whispered, sniffling against Xavi’s chest, and suddenly he was no longer in the park, but catapulted back to another day so many years ago, when Xavi had found him on the front steps to his apartment building and had spoken the exact same words. ‘Let’s get you home, okay?’
‘I can’t go home.’Lulu had shaken his head, blood from his busted eyebrow dripping into his eyes. A crying Manu had been crouching at his side like a little bird that had already seen and heard too much for his only seven years. Lulu had been twelve.
‘I meant my place.’Xavi had squeezed his hand before he’d pulled Lulu to his feet, and then with his other arm, tugged a trembling Manu against his side. Upstairs, Xavi had patched him up. It had been the first time, but it sure as shit wouldn’t be the last. Over the years, Lulu had lost count of the number of times he’d fled over to Xavi’s place, a snot-nosed Manu in tow, sometimes only in their pajamas, once or twice barefoot too.
‘Please don’t tell anyone,’he’d whispered into the space between them as Xavi had leaned over him, cleaning his wound, then placing a butterfly patch over it.
‘I won’t. Mom’s on a late shift. You and Manu can stay. It’s just me, Angelica, and Telma. I’ll tell them you tripped on the stairs coming over.’
Much later, after they’d had dinner and played Mario Kart and Manulito had fallen asleep between them on Xavi’s old, worn couch, Lulu had whispered out into the quiet.‘I wish you were my real brother, Xavi.’
‘I wish you were mine, too,’Xavi had whispered back, a strained lilt to his voice.
‘Then Manu and I could live here,’Lulu had continued, looking around the modest but cozy living room. Xavi hadn’t said anything. He’d been quiet for a whileuntil he looked straight into Lulu’s eyes.
‘You don’t have to go home.’They both knew, of course, that he had to. Eventually.
‘It’s okay. We’ll go home when he’s passed out.’
‘Please don’t,’Xavi’s voice had been pleading, his eyes watery.
‘I’ll be okay.’They both knew that was a lie, too.
“Thank you,” Lulu spoke against Xavi’s chest as he carried him toward the parking area, his muscles flexing with every step. It was athank youthat extended way past this moment and all the moments in the past when Xavi had been there for him. It was athank youreaching way into the future for all the times that hadn’t yet come to pass, where Lulu knew Xavi would be there for him again. Always there. It was athank youthat, if Lulu wasn’t careful, could easily spill over into other words, far more dangerous sentences, which also always ended with ayou.
Chapter Five
Xavi
Xavi hid the third yawn within a few minutes behind his hand as he wrote the next question on the whiteboard.Do you think Jane Eyre shows feminist traits, and if yes, which?He wasn’t yawning because he foundJane Eyreboring. No, it was one of his favorite books to both read and teach. He was yawning because he was wiped out from the day before. He’d managed to persuade Lulu to stay home from rehearsals. His part had a lot of dancing in it, and he’d hardly been able to walk by the time he was supposed to get ready for work. Where Xavi was usually in bed by 10 on a school night, it had been way past midnight before they’d settled in, Lulu on the pull-out couch and Xavi in his own bed. He hadn’t been able to sleep, of course, knowing that Lulu was right there on his couch, in those ridiculously flimsy lavender sleep shorts. He could hear Lulu tossing and turning, the occasional hiss or whimper too, and when Xavi’s alarm had read 2:07 a.m. in mocking red numbers, he’d called it quits. He’d gotten out of bed and padded to the living room, where Lulu was scrolling on his phone, the blue light casting an almost otherworldly glow on his face.
‘Can’t sleep either?’Xavi had asked, sitting down on the edge of the pull-out, careful not to touch Lulu’s banged-up knees.‘Your knees hurtin’?’His gaze had trailed down the length of Lulu’s body, both knees wrapped with gauze. Lulu had laughed at him when he’d pulled out the roll of gauze from his first-aid kit and started bandaging his knees.‘Overreacting just a little, huh,hermano?’Lulu was such a fucking brat, but at least he’d stopped crying by then, his eyelids puffy and red as he’d looked at Xavi, crouching on the bathroom floor.
‘It’s just that they’re itching,’Lulu had groaned, those non-shorts riding higher up his thighs as he’d squirmed on the pull-out, revealing inches upon inches of lean golden dancer’s thighs.
‘C’mon.’Xavi had held out his hand.‘You can sleep in my bed. Just for tonight,’he’d added when Lulu had squealed, grabbing his hand.‘You’ll have more room to stretch.’As it turned out, Lulu did more than just stretching. It wasn’t that Xavi didn’t know that Lulu was a chaotic sleeper; he remembered from all the times Lulu had slept over when they were kids. As soon as Lulu’s lovely head hit Xavi’s pillow, his eyes fluttered closed and, with his heart-shaped mouth slightly agape, he sighed contentedly, then started snoring. Then, after a few minutes, when Xavi had just stared at him, mesmerized by how Lulu could be even more beautiful in his sleep, especially in Xavi’s bed, Lulu had started snuggling Xavi like a teddy bear.Oso.With his thigh slung heavily over Xavi’s hip, Lulu had fisted the hem of Xavi’s boxers in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible as he’d smiled dreamily. Then he’d buried his face against Xavi’s shoulder, his breath so hot and moist against Xavi’s skin that it was bordering on unbearable. Xavi had cursed himself for not wearing a T-shirt, but he was a creature of habit, and he usually slept in just boxers. In the darkness, his scars weren’t as prominent as they were in the brutal, unforgiving light of day, and he always slept alone anyway. Eventually, he’d drifted off to something resembling a state of sleep, every little shiver or snort from Lulu shocking him back awake.
Lulu had still been sleeping when Xavi got up, his hands reaching blindly for Xavi, and Xavi had wanted nothing more than to just slide back under the warm covers and hold Lulu close, whispering that secret name into Lulu’s damp curls.Cisne.
Xavi yawned again, this time unable to silence it behind his hand, and of course his students caught on.
“Oye, Señor Bernal,” Ricky Gonzalez, one of his many Latin-American students, hollered from the back of the classroom. “Rough night,ese?” The rest of the class whooped and laughed, too, and Xavi groaned, wiping his hands along his face. He’d forgotten to shave. Again. He’d have a beard soon if he wasn’t careful. A beard like his dad’s, perhaps. His dad had had the softest beard, and sometimes, when Xavi closed his eyes and surrendered to the memories, he could still feel the sensation of his dad’s beard against his cheek when he hugged him and whispered, ‘mi hijo’against Xavi’s ear.
“Settle down, please,ese,” Xavi clapped his hands twice, which his students knew meant business. Ricky was Mexican,esehis favorite word, and where most teachers would have insisted on correcting him, Xavi let it slide. He had no need for the kids to refer to him as Mr. Bernal, as long as he held their respect, and Xavi had no doubt he did. That didn’t mean they didn’t tease him any chance they got. They were teenagers after all.
“You finally got yourself a boyfriend, Mr. Bernal?” Layla asked from the front row, where she was coloring her nails with a turquoise glitter pen. “It’s about time,” she smiled softly, her dark bangs falling into her face.
“That, Layla, is none of your business,” Xavi smiled back. Then, in an attempt to redirect his students’ attention back toJane Eyre, he pointed to the whiteboard. At first, when he’d started teaching, he’d been self-conscious of his missing fingers, favoring using his other hand when he pointed to the whiteboard. With time, though, he’d forgotten, realizing he wasn’t the only one who wore his past, his battle wounds, on his body, and that it didn’t matter to his students one way or another if their teacher had eight fingers instead of ten.
Reading his third question out loud to the class, Xavi’s gaze trailed along the rows of students. There were twenty-eight currently in his class, of which only two were absent today. Jennifer Garreth, because she was having a wisdom tooth removed, and Carlos Da Silva, because it was hisabuelita’sfuneral. The other teachers were always digging at Xavi that he must be bribing his students since they always showed up for his classes, but Xavi just let it pass. Because he knew his secret and he was pretty proud of it. He treated his students with the same kind of respect as he expected to be treated with in return. He treated them as equals, and although he had favorites—because of course he did—he never showed it in class, making every student feel equally important. He was openly gay with his students without making a big deal out of it, and for the past two years, while he’d been teaching this particular class, two students had come out, too. One of whom was currently raising their hand in the air.
