Notes: What our boys really need is some
alone time, but that isn’t what they get.
Not yet! Soon, I promise. Boston is taking up a lot of story time, but
we’re working through some things here.
Patience, my darlins, the sweetness is coming.
Title:
Love Letters
Part Twenty-B: People Aren’t Psychics
***
If Hell—or for Ben, at least
Purgatory—was a crowd he didn’t know, then Heaven was a library. The main branch of the Boston Public Library
was one of the most physically imposing buildings Ben had been inside. It reminded him a little of the cathedrals
he’d been dragged to as a child when he and his mother had lived overseas, except
where the cathedrals were lit with the candles of the faithful and murky
rainbows of stained glass, the library was bright with electric lights and
sunshine. The central room was a long
hallway with an arched stone ceiling and two rows of wooden desks that spanned
the length of the room. Ben listened
with half an ear as the librarian who was helping him with his research chatted
quietly about the age of the library, the architecture, and the different
collections.
Props to Time Magazine for the picture
“You’ll be working in this room,” she
said, escorting him out of the main hall into a smaller chamber with a wide
table and a single chair. “I’ve gone
ahead and pulled the relevant Adams letters.
Just buzz me when you’re done and I’ll get you the Crooks. If you need to leave at any point to get a
drink or go to the restroom, please lock the door behind you when you go and I’ll
unlock it for you when you need to enter again.”
“Thank you,” Ben glanced quickly at her
nametag, “Calanthe.” Wow, someone had
gone very retro with that.
“My pleasure, sir.”
Ben sat down in the chair, in the
absolute quiet of the room, and looked at the priceless documents on display in
front of him. The air was tinged with
the scent of old paper, and the lights in here were low and soothing. God, if he wasn’t careful Ben was going to
end up falling asleep, it was so relaxing in here. If he conked out and drooled all over one of
the Adams letters, though, he’d never forgive himself. Ben rubbed his fingers against his eyes,
arched to crack his upper back, then went to work.
When Ben wrote about letters, when he
described them, he wrote about much more than just the content of the letters
themselves. That sort of thing he could
look up anywhere, especially since John Adams’ romance with Abigail was so well
known. How the letter was written was equally important, though. Did the nub of the pen scratch in places,
slip here and there? Was the writing
cramped or expansive? Was the letter
torn and bent, or pressed carefully and treasured? Little things like that gave Ben insight into
the original author’s frame of mind when Ben saw them, and even if it was mostly
just impressions, nothing provable, it was still interesting. He bent over the letter, turned the nearest light
to illuminate it better and got to work.
Ben filled half a notebook with
observations before he finally stopped for lunch. It might have been more efficient if he’d
typed things directly into his computer, but the intermediate step of writing
them out by hand gave him time to really consider what he was doing. He ran outside to grab a sandwich and some
coffee at the nearest café, inhaled them in less than five minutes and went
back in to continue working.
Ben tore himself away once his eyes
started blurring so badly he couldn’t make out the script anymore. God, he was tired… He buzzed up Calanthe and let her know he’d
be back tomorrow, then left the letters to her expert care as he packed up and
headed back outside. Ben sat down on a
bench, tilted his head back and considered the wisdom of having another cup of
coffee when all he really wanted to do was sleep. That wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon
though, so…
Someone sat down on the bench next to
him. “Hey.”
Ben forced his eyes open and looked
over at the newcomer. “Ryan?” He sat up a little more. “Hi.”
Ryan smiled. It wasn’t his normal beaming grin, but at
least it didn’t look forced. “Hi. You weren’t answering your phone, so I
thought I’d come make sure you hadn’t pulled a Neverending Story on me.”
“A what?”
“The
Neverending Story?” Ryan prompted. “Book,
movie, bad sequels…you don’t know it, really?”
“I don’t.”
“We should watch it, the movie is
actually really good. I loved the book
when I was a kid, too.”
“I’d love to watch a movie with you,”
Ben said honestly. Somewhere quiet and
dark and private… “And I’m sorry about the phone thing; I
turned it off in the library.”
“That’s okay.” Ryan looked down and back up, his hands
fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, and Ben smiled at him.
“Come here.” Ryan came, and Ben tilted his head and kissed
him gently, not caring that it was four in the afternoon on a busy street and
that people might be watching. For a
moment nobody else mattered.
They pulled apart after a moment, and now
Ryan seemed much more at ease. “Mmm…do
that again,” he ordered, grinning at last.
“Soon,” Ben promised. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
“Well, Jasmine’s cooking again, and
Lenny and Grant are having a few people they’re planning a show with over to
the apartment tonight.”
“So we wouldn’t be missed if we stayed
away?” Ben asked hopefully, visions of dinner out and, even better, a hotel
room playing out in his head.
Ryan frowned. “You don’t like them?”
“I like them fine. Especially Jasmine,” Ben assured him. “I’m just not sure I’m going to be great company
tonight.” Because I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I get horizontal.
“I already promised we’d be there,”
Ryan said, with the air of someone who was just figuring out that doing that
might not have been a great idea. “I’m
sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” It wasn’t like Ben had told him not to. “But save tomorrow night, I’ve got something
planned for us.”
“Okay.”
They sat there quietly for a moment, awkward in a way they hadn’t been
before, until Ben reached out and tangled his fingers together with Ryan’s. Ryan gripped back tightly and looked
relieved.
“Do we need to bring anything back?”
Ben asked, forcing himself upright with a little grimace. His back ached from being bent over the table
all day.
“Just ourselves.” Ryan pulled Ben’s hand to his lips and kissed
his knuckles, then let go and went to flag down a taxi. He got one in under a minute, naturally. They headed back to the apartment and Ben did
his best to put himself in a sociable mindset.
In the end his mindset didn’t matter—sociable
was the order of the evening whether Ben wanted it or not. A “few people” ended up being around twenty,
the apartment was packed and Jasmine was busy as hell, and loving every minute
of it. Ben was introduced around as “Ryan’s
writer!” by Lenny, who was completely taken with the concept, and he shook
hands and got hugs and forgot names for a few hours as more people filtered in
and out.
It wasn’t so bad, except for the fact
that Ryan was waylaid a few minutes after their return by some fellow
illustrators, and the friendly hellos soon morphed into a technical discussion
that Ben couldn’t follow and wasn’t really invited to. Ryan was enjoying himself though, that was
clear to see, and so Ben did his best to keep a look of vague interest on his
face when he was close to the group, which was whenever he could escape from
Lenny and the flow of newcomers. The
need for sleep pulled at him, reinforced by warm food and alcohol, and it was only
the noise and the occasional moments of discomfort that came from being
surrounded by strangers that kept him on his feet.
At half past nine, Ben’s phone
rang. He checked the number and sighed
with relief, then looked over at Ryan, who was talking to three other people
about oil painting. Seeing Ryan
confident and eloquent about his expertise was captivating, but by this time
Ben needed an escape, and the phone call was the perfect excuse.
“I have to take this,” he told Ryan, interrupting
for just a moment. “I’ll be back.”
“Okay.”
Ryan turned his face up and Ben kissed him obligingly, then headed for
Ryan’s bedroom. He got inside, sat down
on the bed and answered the call.
“Holy shit, you’re a lifesaver.”
Michal laughed. “Someone sounds cranky! What, Boston not all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Insofar as Boston has Ryan and an
amazing library, yeah, it’s fine.”
“So what’s the problem then?”
“Boston also comes with three roommates
and, right now, a party.”
“A party,
oh god forbid.”
“Shut up, you know how I am at parties.” Ben knew he was whining but he couldn’t help
it.
“Yes, I know how you are. You’re probably contemplating mass murder.”
“Not murder. Suicide, maybe.”
Michael tsked. “Now now, no suicide on your very first trip
out there. You can’t tell me you aren’t
enjoying being with your boy.”
“I do enjoy being with him, just not
with everyone else.”
“And naturally you’ve talked it out
beforehand so he knows your preferences and can cater to them without either of
you feeling uncomfortable or put-upon on this visit.” Michael was using his “smug bastard” tone of
superiority, which made Ben want to throw something at him.
“You know we didn’t talk,” Ben
sighed. “The visit was a surprise,
remember?”
“Then consider this a valuable learning
experience for next time. Dialogue is key
when neither one of you has psychic powers.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know I’m being an idiot, thanks.” Ben didn’t want to make Ryan or his roommates
uncomfortable, or like they had to change just for him. On the other hand, he was so fucking tired…
“Welcome to being in a relationship
that you care enough to make sacrifices for,” Michael told him, soundly
gleeful. “Idiocy comes with the
territory. It’s part of the learning
curve. Just don’t be too much of an idiot; I don’t want you
coming home in tears.”
“Oh, like you’ve ever had a
relationship that you’ve made sacrifices for.”
If he had, it wasn’t when he and Ben had been together.
“I had the same boyfriend all through
uni, thanks very much. Can you say the
same?”
“Wow,
would you look at the time? I’ve got to
go, so sorry, bye.” Ben hung up and tossed the phone on the
nearest pillow, then lay back on the bed with a sigh. He’d go back out there in a minute, in just a
minute. It was relatively quiet in here,
and the things that had kept Ben from sleeping last night seemed irrelevant now. Just one more minute, and he’d head back out
into the fray. One more minute, just one…
Ben woke up an indeterminate amount of
time later, when he felt himself being rearranged on the bed. “Hmm?”
“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Ryan said
softly, moving the phone to the bedside table before he tucked the pillow under
Ben’s head.
“Shit, what time is it?”
“Late.”
The sounds of a party still filtered in through the door, but they were
a little quieter now.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall
asleep…”
“You obviously need it,” Ryan
said. “Jasmine told me you didn’t sleep
much last night.” He sounded unhappy,
and Ben hated that.
“I didn’t, but it’s not because of you.” Ben sat up and caught Ryan’s hand in
his. “It isn’t, seriously. It just takes me a little time to get used to
a new place.”
Ryan didn’t say anything, but he didn’t
let go of Ben’s hand either. Ben tugged
him close and went to kiss him, then grimaced.
“Wait, my mouth tastes horrible, I should go brush my teeth.”
“I don’t care.” Ryan kissed him anyway, long and sweet and a
little anxious still. He tasted like
cranberry vodka and tamarind, and he opened the kiss and invited Ben in, their
tongues tangling briefly. Ryan pressed
closer and Ben felt himself start to get hard, despite his fatigue. His free hand slipped around Ryan’s waist,
underneath his shirt and across the smooth skin of his back—
“Ryan!
Yo, Ry!” Someone banged on the
door. “Come on, you said you’d be two minutes!”
Ryan broke the kiss with a huff. “Hang on!” he shouted. “Sorry,” he mumbled to Ben, whose erection
was already going down as he remembered their circumstances.
“It’s fine. Go on, I’ll follow as soon as I brush my
teeth.”
“No, stay here. Get some rest. I’ll be back soon.”
Part of Ben wanted to argue, but more
of him wanted to sleep. “Okay.” Ryan slipped away and rejoined the party, and
Ben waited for the bathroom to be free so he could get properly ready for bed. Despite his catnap he fell asleep fast, and
not even Ryan rejoining him and wrapping him up like an octopus could do more
than make his eyelids flutter.
He slept, and he didn’t dream. It was wonderful.
This was sweet! I like this sort of reality. It makes them stronger. And I love Ben!
ReplyDeleteThanks Jana! I love Ben too...I'm related to a lot of people like him.
DeleteI am like Ben. Give me books and I am happy, give me people and I believe nobody likes me. So I really love a wellwriten alter ego.
DeleteYeah, I've got a lot of traits in common with Ben too:)
DeleteThe Neverending Story was a highlight of my childhood. :-)
ReplyDeleteI love this story so much I am seriously trying to avoid thinking about it eventually ending. :-(
Mine too, I loved it. I saw the movie before I ever read the book, but the book was amaaazing. And while all things must someday come to an end, I will be very careful about making the ending something good. And just think, then we get to start something new! I have no idea yet! None!
DeleteI like the pacing of this story so much. It's very realistic in terms of how Ryan and Ben are slowly getting to know each other. I look forward to reading more.
ReplyDeleteHi Avid!
DeleteI've never been fond of the insta-love trope...I prefer people taking it slow, it just seems more rational. Of course, love isn't always rational, but I like it that way:)