When he said so out loud, Faye hummed thoughtfully. “We hold onto things for some reason. They’re not necessary and we don’t think about them ninety-nine percent of the time, but that one percent, we feel happier to have them still. I don’t think it makes sense. We won’t miss the stuff we donated. We have memories of Mom and Dad, too.”
“True. I guess I’ll have to organize my apartment, too. There’s not that much stuff, but I could use getting rid of most of the DVDs and some of my books, maybe. I’m going to call and ask if the local youth shelter wants anything. Minnie said she’ll take whatever furniture I don’t want, and Jack and Rita will come help me with moving everything into the U-Haul once I get there.”
When they got to Francis’s building, they moved Faye’s boxes to her car and carried Francis’s to his apartment. Francis had to make another trip to get the last one, which was heavier, but five boxes total wasn’t bad. Not after a whole lifetime in New Jersey.
They were having Chinese for dinner when Francis’s phone vibrated on the table between them. He grabbed it, thinking it was Padraig, but it was Mark instead.
The first message Mark ever sent him. It felt… oddly exciting. He swiped to read it.
I talked with Evy. I think I know why I safeworded. I’m sorry.
Francis frowned a little, ignoring Faye’s perceptive expression, and replied to Mark.Is this where you say “it’s not you it’s me”?Making a bit of a joke might help, unless Mark wasn’t into making light of the situation. Without seeing him, Francis wasn’t sure how it would be received.
The few minutes it took for the response to come through seemed really fucking long. Then, just as Francis had picked up his chopsticks again, another message popped up.
Yeah. I guess. Also ha-ha. But I… Well I talked with Evy like I said and I might understand more now. Of all the stuff that’s happened.
Since Mark seemed to stop typing, Francis asked,How do you feel about it now? Regrets?
The thought of that being a possibility, that Mark might take a step back and they’d never have that connection again—No. I feel scared as fuck.
Francis groaned.
“Who are you texting with?” Faye asked, grinning when Francis lifted his gaze.
“Oh, it’s, uh, someone I met recently.”
Another text came through.And curious.
Suddenly, Francis felt lightheaded with possibility, and couldn’t help the grin that spread on his face. He forgot all about Faye again, and quickly messaged back.Good to know.
Faye giggled. “You’re so into this guy it’s ridiculous.”
“I’m what?” Francis blinked.
“My brother has a crush! It’s so cute!” she cooed at him, making him blush. He was too fucking old to be blushing.
“It’s nothing yet, so don’t get your hopes up,” he murmured, waiting to see if Mark would send another message.
I’m off to work. Night shift. Ttyl.
Francis smiled at the abbreviation. It was promising.Stay safe.
“My hopes or yours, brother mine?”
And that, Francis didn’t have an answer to.
Chapter Seven
Mark watched Francis leave and felt conflicted. He waited until the sound of Francis’s car faded, before moving from the doorway where he’d been standing. It had felt as if he couldn’t move, but needed to, but didn’t have the courage to do so.
Endless thoughts swirled through his mind. Why had he safeworded? What was so bad about a kiss? Would Francis come back? If he did, would he want to do the same thing again? WouldMarkwant to? What was wrong with him, melting into a puddle like that at a bit of attention? Did this mean he was gay? Shit, he was a fag, wasn’t he? His parents would be so fucking—no, no, he couldn’t go there.
Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’tknowhe was gay. It was just… thinking it fleetingly was different than admitting to it. Making it part of his identity was a horrifying idea.
In the kitchen, he saw the phone number Francis had left behind and felt and odd combination of apprehension and relief. It wasn’t a “call me” it was a “if you ever want to use this, you can.”
Mark knew he wasn’t ready, not now. Maybe not in a while.
