Au!week II

[road_to_calvary]

 

It’s too warm with Javert in his bed, but Valjean doesn’t want to disturb him by getting up to fix the thermostat. He lies still instead, blinking at the ceiling, breathing in time with the guy pressed against his side. One hand lies on his shoulder; for ease, or comfort, or to stop him rolling away. He’s not sure.

Javert was quiet yesterday, and he’d seemed so down in the evening, Valjean hadn’t been able to resist offering bedspace again. And maybe it wasn’t just that, maybe it was also the conversation with Sin the other day. And then running into Joly and Enjolras, only it’s not really them at all.

This place is weird, and now it’s been a week and the novelty is wearing off. He wants to go home where it’s safe, where he and Javert have carefully constructed boundaries with each other. It’s too easy to forget them here and end up like this, tangled in a bed, all too aware of how much he wants to give Javert what he wants. Maybe that means it’s time, and he’s ready. But he doesn’t know that Javert is, and how do you gauge such a thing? The guy put a rope around his neck. When do you say someone’s ‘better’ after that, and trust they’re making rational decisions?

‘Hey. Sorry. Should’ve just pushed me off.’

Valjean smiles, runs his hand across Javert’s tousled hair and shakes his head. ‘It’s OK. Morning.’

‘Morning.’

The guy yawns, ducks his head again, and Valjean feels the ridge of his nose and a hint of stubbled cheek against his side. His fingers dig into the thick hair, and stay there.  ‘You alright?’

‘Mmm. What? Yeah.’

‘You were quiet last night.’

Javert evidently tries to place last night’s mood, locates it, sighs, and rolls on to his back. ‘I was just thinking about what this biker guy said to me. It’s nothing.’

‘It’s not nothing if it upset you.’

‘It didn’t. It’s more that I spoke to him about it at all.’

He can see how that would be weird to Javert. The guy doesn’t really talk to anyone. ‘What did he say?’

‘That my life sounded awful, and I should take drugs to lighten up.’

‘And you didn’t yell, and he didn’t punch you?’

‘Give me some credit. And him a bit too, I guess. He didn’t bite when I got pissed.’

‘Good for him.’

Javert’s doesn’t like drugs, and he’s not afraid of telling people why they’re so bad either. Valjean wonders whether he’ll ever tell him that he tried them a few times before, and what the reaction would be if he did.

They fall quiet. Valjean rubs his fingers through the fine hair at the base of Javert’s skull, and thinks about what war Sin is fighting, and how weird that conversation had been. How Javert’s the only other person he’s come across who has flagged so quickly as someone with a past they don’t want to talk about. But even he was different. Valjean knew about it because he knew his dad. He knows nothing about Sin, and yet there it was. It brings goose bumps to his skin, from horror not cold. Is it really so obvious? Or do you have to have experience to get it?  What if you don’t – what if it really has been written all over him all this time, and he was just kidding himself thinking he looked normal? His stomach clenches, and drops. It’s possible. It’s so hard to know what other people see.

‘Hey. You OK?’

He looks down to be met with concern in Javert’s eyes. Valjean smiles, and stretches his arms up to hide his own face.

‘Yeah. What do you want to do today?’

‘You’re not running?’

‘Later. I overdid it a bit last time. We should hang out.’

‘OK. Everyone keeps telling me about this library. You want to do that?’

Javert doesn’t much like books, and neither have been up to studying much recently. But it’s there, and they’re here, and why not? One of the advantages of reading is distraction.

‘OK. Move over, I’ll shower first.’

He gets up, too used to Javert’s eyes on him to care about them anymore. They’re always there, and usually nothing is said. Sometimes he wonders what it would be like if they were gone, and can’t imagine it at all.

‘Want company?’

His hands only still for a second. Then he laughs as naturally as he can, and tosses a balled-up pair of socks at him. ‘If there’s a rat in the hall, you could order coffee.’

The reply is only delayed by a second. It comes as naturally as one might expect. ‘Coffee, huh? Must be cheat day.’

‘Yeah. Well.’

He disappears to the safety of the bathroom. The door is cold against his back. When he can’t ignoring the rustling of bed sheets anymore, the sound of the shower blocks it out well enough.

He tells himself this is not a break from reality. Everything that happens here has consequences just like if they were at home. That he can’t just do things because he feels like it, and that’s not how life works.

But it works like that for other people, doesn’t it? They do what they want, at least sometimes. He knows he’s not them, but…sometimes. That would be enough.

He hears the bedroom door close, and lets out a long breath. This is not the place to make any decisions. It’s not real. When they get home, maybe he’ll think about it again.