They had a considerably large backyard that had been kept meticulously landscaped by the family’s gardener. The grass never grew too long. The bushes never looked too messy. The flowerbeds always tended to. The house had a lot of curb appeal that made it look like a lived-in family home.
Fletcher remembered how excited he was when his parents put a pool in the backyard. He was six and had already taught himself how to swim like most Floridian kids did. He especially liked it because the pool had a deep end that sloped down from three feet to eight feet deep.
The house also had an old boat-launch when they first moved in. That was probably the first thing his dad had renovated. He had a long dock built as far out into the river as zoning allowed, and his mom had a gazebo built at the very end of the dock. Fletcher would climb on top of the wooden railings and swing his legs over with a fishing pole in his hand. He could easily hook a bass, which made him feel like he was the world’s best fisherman. One time he hooked a massive gar that pulled him into the water. He still remembered how in trouble he got for letting a fish pull him in. He should’ve held tighter. He should have let the pole go. He probably could’ve prevented it, but a small part of him was relieved to see how concerned his mom was when he walked into the house dripping wet with a gnarly cut on his head. He went to school the next day and told his classmates it was his battle scar.
You could see the city skyline at the end of the long wooden dock. Fletcher liked to walk out there and sit under the gazebo and look at the stars a lot when he was younger and pray to God that his parents would love him. Well, that was a little dramatic, but Fletcher wished for it, nonetheless. Even at his young age, he knew he was missing out on having normal parents like all his friends did. Instead, Fletcher was cursed with an overbearing dad and a pushover of a mom.
When Fletcher thought back on it, he realized that his wish would never come true. Maybe he didn’t need his parents to love him. Not when fate brought him something infinite timesbetter. A love so strong that it could heal him. It couldn’t undo the past, but it could teach him that love existed in different forms to help people with different things.
Fletcher still couldn’t believe it. He had finally found love. Love was Taylor.
It was weird to show Taylor around his childhood home. To the unsuspecting eye, it just seemed like a normal family home. Family pictures depicting a perfect family adorned the walls. Fletcher’s senior portrait had been hung up in the hallway. Lauren’s most recent school photo was hung next to it. Pictures of when Fletcher was too young to remember filled the wooden built-ins in the living room. His parents’ wedding portrait was the largest one in the living room, resting above a console table that Fletcher and Lauren kept their old movie DVDs in. Just a completely normal family home.
But it was all a front to cover up the truth of their family. It was fake. The smiles, the hugs, the laughter was all a lie. He’d been told to smile like an Armstrong. To look happy in the photos. To pretend he and his sister were laughing while their mom shoved a camera in their face. None of it was real.
Fletcher didn’t have time to play outside or watch movies on the DVD Player. He had hockey skates glued to his feet, and a hockey stick surgically attached to his hand. He would go to school and go straight to hockey practice. Sundays were his only respite, but half of those days were spent sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a freezing cold church surrounded by his dad’s friends and his grandfathers’ friends and more fucking hockey players.
Honestly, it was kind of unbelievable that he hadn’t grown to resent hockey. Like the way his sister clearly had grown to resent figure skating. But hockey was the only way Fletchercould try and prove himself. To earn a scrap of his dad’s affection or praise. All he wanted was to make his dad proud. But when Fletcher was scoring goals and making assists, there was always someone who was doing it better than he did. A teammate, someone on the opposing team, or even a random kid at hockey camp.
He remembered the camp where he first met Taylor. He really liked him and thought he was funny. But Taylor was a better player than him. He was a better leader. He earned the C on his jersey fair and square, but Sean Armstrong didn’t believe in fair. He believed in doing whatever it took to climb to the top and make it your permanent residence.
Every year after that, he would see more of Taylor. And every year, his dad would build upon his never-ending list of critiques that picked apart every single reason why Fletcher wasn’t the best and why he never would be.
* * *
Taylor was amazed when Fletcher brought him into his dad’s trophy room. One small section of the room had been for his mom’s medals, but the rest of the considerably large room was dedicated to Sean Armstrong.
“It’s okay to be starstruck,” he assured Taylor. He still didn’t know how he felt about Taylor previously being a Sean Armstrong fan.
“Take me to Bubba’s trophy room and then you’ll see how starstruck I can be,” Taylor muttered.
Fletcher led him out of the trophy room and further down the hallway to his bedroom. He pushed the door shut behindthem as Taylor walked around.
“Did your parents take down your decorations after you moved out?” Taylor asked.
Fletcher shook his head. “It’s always been like this,” he said with a hint of sadness. He’d never been one to care for decorations in his room. He liked it to be clean. Even as a kid, it still looked practically the same.
“Your apartments are both plain, too.” Taylor frowned as he turned to look at Fletcher. “It’s kind of sad,” he pointed out.
“I guess a part of it is because of my OCD problem. But I’ve never really been one to decorate.”
“Our place will be different,” Taylor told him. He said it was a promise. “Have you thought about what you’d like to have when we move in?”
“A bed,” Fletcher smirked. Taylor laughed as he slowly backed Fletcher up against his bedroom door. Fletcher threw his arms around Taylor’s neck as Taylor parked his hands on Fletcher’s waist.
“That’s all we need,” Taylor joked. Fletcher just looked into Taylor’s eyes. He loved Taylor so much.
Taylor leaned down to give Fletcher an innocent kiss on the lips. “I love you,” he mouthed to Fletcher. And for some reason, Fletcher’s heart clenched. He had an overwhelming surge of emotion flowing through him as he looked at Taylor. So many words he wanted to say to him, but he couldn’t speak. Not when Taylor was looking at him with a fervorous intensity in his eyes that made Fletcher feel completely laid out on the table. Taylor was staring directly into his soul.
A singular tear fell down Fletcher’s cheek. It was too much at once. To accept Taylor really, genuinely loved him. Before he met Taylor, love had never existed here. In this room. Inthis house. Here he stood in a place that had been so loveless for so long, looking into the eyes of the one person who loved Fletcher unconditionally. Forever. He didn’t know what he did to deserve Taylor’s love.
“Why are you crying?” Taylor asked softly with a concerned look on his face. He reached up to wipe the tear from Fletcher’s cheek, but Fletcher leaned into his touch. It was like Taylor was touching him for the first time all over again.
Taylor held Fletcher’s face in his warm hand. Fletcher let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes for a minute. Just to exist here with Taylor. He didn’t want to think about hockey or his parents or anything else. Taylor pulled him in for a hug, and Fletcher clung to him. “What’s wrong?” Taylor asked him. “Are you okay? Do we need to leave?”
Fletcher shook his head as he rested his chin on Taylor’s shoulders. “It’s just weird being here. With you,” Fletcher whispered. “I can’t really explain it.”
He could feel Taylor’s chest rise and fall on his own. He could feel Taylor’s heart beating. “I love you, Fletcher,” Taylor told him again out loud, so softly that his words felt like a caress.
