Oliver pressed his knuckles into his eyes. God, now Felipe thought he was upset with him. “You didn’t do anything. You didn’t. I know you don’t believe me, but it wasn’t you. It was— it was years ago.”
“How about you get dressed and clean up while I make us some coffee?” Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Felipe kissed his temple. “Then, we can talk about it or not. It’s up to you.”
“All right,” Oliver conceded. Only when he was alone again did he allow himself to silently sob.
***
FELIPE STARED AT THEpercolator, willing it to brew faster. He hated seeing Oliver like this. He never would have suggested switching positions if he had known it would upset him so. Staring at the flame under the pot, Felipe resisted the urge to stick his hand into it. He should have known. Oliver had mentioned little things he hadn’t put together until the moment everything went wrong. Felipe hoped to god he was wrong, but he didn’t think he was. The closet door whined as Oliver appeared in his pajamas and green robe. It was too warm a night for both, but Felipe didn’t say anything as the other man sank onto the stool near his writing bench and held his head in his hands. Rumbles of dank misery slipped across the tether followed by something sharper Felipe couldn’t name but came in time with Oliver’s features tightening.
Pulling the tin down from the top shelf, Felipe dug out a fresh box of Fig Newtons for his partner. The coffee wouldn’t be ready for a few minutes, but having his favorite snack might make him feel better. Felipe opened the box and placed it in front of Oliver as he sat down beside him. He wanted to touch him. He wanted to hold Oliver tightly until they chased away whatever demon lingered, but he didn’t want to make things worse. Giving him a tight smile, Oliver stared at the box of cakes but didn’t take any.
His pewter grey eyes were rimmed in red as he chewed on his lip but said nothing.
“Oliver, you don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable,” Felipe said, keeping his voice low.
“I know, but I want to. I will. Can you,” he paused to draw in a jagged breath, “rub my arms? It’s harder to talk when you’re right there.”
Nodding, Felipe stood behind Oliver and rubbed his arms in slow, firm strokes.
“It happened years ago. I met someone in medical school,” Oliver began, his voice thick but steady. “We were friends, maybe more than that, I’m not sure, but we applied for our residencies at the Howard Hospital together. I liked him a lot. He was one of the few students I got along with in college who seemed to like me back. He was like us, except not magical. During school, we had done things together, with our mouths, our hands, things done in haste, but one day after work, he invited me over when he knew his boardinghouse keeper would be out. He said he wanted to go over some cases with me. I didn’t realize he meant something else.
“When I realized what he meant, I didn’t mind. I trusted him. We had done plenty of things before. He asked if I wanted to... you know, and I said yes. I was twenty-five and still inexperienced, but I wanted to. It was my first time. I didn’t know there was supposed to be preparation or that anything was wrong until it was too late.” Oliver swallowed hard. His voice sounded far away as he said, “He— he misunderstood my needs. The way he was touching me was too light. It tickled, but when I said something, he got rough with me, thinking that’s what I wanted. I was so confused and upset that I couldn’t—”
Oliver screwed his eyes shut, feet twisting around the rungs of the stool as he held his head. An icy wave of pain sluiced across the tether, squeezing Felipe’s heart until it felt as if it were in his throat.
“You couldn’t speak.”
Oliver nodded and sniffed. “I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t say anything. I just froze and took it. I don’t remember what happened after or how I got back to my room, but I remember how much it hurt.”
***
HE ALSO REMEMBEREDthe blood and how he cried and didn’t leave his room until Monday morning when he had to drag himself back to work, half-delirious with hunger. But Felipe didn’t need to know about that. Oliver didn’t even know why he was telling him. Maybe, he was hoping Felipe would see it as an excuse for his deficiencies or an explanation. Or maybe it was because, after nearly twelve years, hiding a festering wound became impossible when someone cared enough to look.
“Oh, Oliver,” Felipe whispered, his hands tightening on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry.”
Oliver’s eyes burned as he stared at the notebook and the package of cakes laying on the desk, anything to keep from picturing what happened. “I still had to work with him. It was an accident, but I didn’t trust him anymore. I didn’t want to be around him, yet he was always on the ward. He kept asking why I was avoiding him, and I was too mortified to tell him. The stress of it... I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep without having nightmares, so I stopped. I couldn’t think straight. I started feeling people dying. I fell apart. In the span of a few months, I lost my only friend and ruined the life I worked so hard for because I couldn’t tell him to stop.”
Squatting beside him, Felipe tried to catch his gaze. “Oliver, it wasn’t your fault. Even if you didn’t stop him, it wasn’t your fault.”
He wanted to scream at the beseeching look in Felipe’s eyes. How could he not understand that it was always his fault? He was the ticklish one, the difficult one, the one who couldn’t speak, the one who made things unnecessarily hard because body fluids repulsed him and touch made him want to crawl out of his skin. He was always the problem. Why would it have been any different that time?
“You’re only saying that because you love me,” Oliver snapped. “He didn’t know to stop because I didn’t tell him! I said yes. How was he supposed to know any different unless I told him? He wasn’t a psychic, Felipe.”
Felipe opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak but stopped himself. The tether tightened around Oliver’s heart as Felipe regarded him for a long moment.How can you love me when I cause so much trouble?Oliver wanted to ask. Behind them, the percolator gurgled and rattled.
Pushing the box of Fig Newtons closer, Felipe stood. “Stay put. I’ll get it.”
Every noise seemed magnified in the empty laboratory as Oliver rested his head on his arms. The squeak of the percolator’s tap cut the thread of Oliver’s thoughts, and the slam of the unused mortuary cabinet door as Felipe retrieved the remaining cream from dinner dashed any hope he had of coherence. When Felipe placed the coffee cup in front of him, Oliver raised his head at the familiar smell. Holding the hot porcelain between his hands, he let the pain drown out his disparate thoughts.
***
FELIPE WATCHED OLIVERhover at the edge of muteness. As much as he hated it, he would rather have Oliver crying in his arms than unable to speak or move, which was why he sat close enough to be comforting but far enough to not crowd him. Sipping his coffee, Felipe held his tongue. He wanted to rage at the injustice of it all, that someone had hurt his Oliver, and that no one had been there to protect him or comfort him after. For twelve years, Oliver had carried that burden alone. If Felipe hadn’t inadvertently reopened the wound, would he have ever told him? He didn’t want to think about how far Oliver would have let him go had he not noticed his discomfort. Felipe’s chest tightened at the realization of how close he had come to wounding Oliver again. It might not have been a mortal wound, but he, of all people, understood that the scars people couldn’t see were often the deepest. The box of crumbly fig cakes inched across the table until they were in front of Felipe.
Oliver gave Felipe a wan smile as he stuffed a Fig Newton into his mouth. “Promise me, you won’t be too upset with yourself for asking. You didn’t know.”
“I’ll do my best,” Felipe said around the cake. “Did you ever try again after? Besides tonight, I mean.”
“Yeah, but not for a long time. I did with Ansley. The first time he asked, I lied and said I had never done it before. It wasn’t much of a lie. I still didn’t know what to do and didn’t want to ask. He was uncharacteristically patient with me those first few times. I thought I could get through it with practice, but...” Oliver worried his lip and set his empty cup aside. “It didn’t get better. Ansley didn’t understand why it never got easier for me or why I could do other things but not that, even though we had done it before. It became a point of contention between us.”
