Chapter 22

St. Louis, September 1973

Sunday was mostly spent in bed, lazing away the hours. Waiting for their refractory periods to end, and in the meantime, telling each other stories, or exploring their bodies without further intent. Bill found out that Bobby was covered in moles from head to toe, literally, and that the one on the man's left ankle was his favorite. Meanwhile, Bobby did make good on his promise to show Bill just how much he enjoyed the rolls of his stomach. Bill hoped he didn't have to disrobe in front of anyone else for a while – there would be very few ways of explaining just how he'd gotten covered in bite marks and hickies.

Time ran through their fingertips like fine sand. They'd need to go to the beach together, one day, Bill thought as he finally got dressed, near four o'clock. It had become ingrained in their weird summer routine of meeting up for weekends: that whoever had come to visit the other would leave in the late afternoon so he didn't look like an even older man on Monday mornings.

They could both feel the moment coming, if the growingly heavy silence was to be believed. Bobby made them tea, which they drank in the kitchen, sharing a slice of cake they'd both been too distracted to eat earlier. Chocolate was Bobby's favorite, apparently, and Bill tucked the information into a little nook of his mind, hoping to fill it with more and more details over time.

He offered to do the dishes, got a kiss on the cheek for his troubles, and was left alone in the kitchen when Bobby said he would go paint a little. Bill knew the strategy for what it was, a way to delay their parting and the conversation that would inevitably come. There weren't that many dirty dishes in the first place, and he stood staring out the window, his thoughts drifting to the life waiting outside of this house.

He wondered, for a second, if Bobby knew his neighbors well. If they had questions about the strange man who'd been visiting all summer. About the new car parking in their street more and more often.

When it was no longer avoidable, he dragged his feet to the living room. Bobby wasn't painting at all, or he was, if staring at the canvas from his place on the couch counted. Their gazes met and Bill felt his heart squeeze, an extra beat that had no place to be. Bobby opened his mouth then closed it again, and Bill silently agreed. He wasn't sure they'd ever find the right words for what was happening.

Bobby held out a hand and Bill, lost as he was, still took the invitation and came to sit next to him on the couch. He stared at their fingers where they lay intertwined between their thighs. And as usual, coward that he was, waited for the other person to make the next move.

"I'll miss you," Bobby said after a while, looking out the window.

He sounded… sad. Far too much for what this really was. Bill frowned and turned to inspect him. Bobby's mouth was down-turned and his eyes too shiny.

"Wait, Bobby," Bill started, "this isn't… this isn't a goodbye for good…"

Bobby's lack of answer spoke volumes. Bill slowly pulled his hand back to himself and got up, moving to stand in front of the other man and catch his line of sight.

"Is that what you're thinking? That me going back is the end?" he asked him, voice trembling far too much for his liking.

Bobby shrugged.

"It wouldn't be the first time that an obstacle meant… us not lasting."

Bill's mouth opened in outrage, although it took him a few seconds to find his words.

"Are you joking? It… I'm not the same this time! It's not the same!"

Bobby blinked slowly at him and despite being shouted at, remained calm.

"How is it not?" he asked.

Bill's hands shot to his suspenders on reflex, thumbs digging underneath so he could clasp nervous fingers around them.

"I thought… I thought it would be clear, with everything we've talked about for the past days, but… I guess not?" he sighed, his face twisting painfully.

"I've always been scared, Bobby," he finally confessed, making himself look his lover in the eye. "It was… easier behind closed doors, that's all. But whenever we moved towards something more substantial, well, the fear… it got the better of me all over again."

He lowered his eyes to stare at his own naked feet. How pitiful he looked in Bobby's beautiful house, disrupting everything the man had worked for and built for himself.

It didn't occur to him that it was starting until he felt the need to scratch at his forearms to relieve himself from the constant noise up there. He barely realized he was doing it too, only stopping when hands landed gently on his wrists, stopping his frantic motions. Bill raised his head to find Bobby standing in front of him, smiling softly.

"Hey."

Bill shook his head, the noise too strong for him to answer. He dropped into a crouch, hugging his own knees and wishing he could crawl under something, a table, any piece of furniture that would accommodate his frame and hide him. That's what he would have done if he'd been alone.

Instead, Bobby followed the movement and knelt in front of him, still holding him. His hands moved slightly to take Bill's and unclench his fingers until he could link their hands together.

"Hey… remember what we used to do as kids? When your head got too crowded?"

Bill shook his head. Right now, he couldn't remember anything, couldn't think about anything but the need to scratch and disappear away from himself.

"Tell me about the last cool thing you learned?"

He felt a pull on his hands and this was enough to finally grab his attention and make him look at Bobby again. Who was still here, patiently waiting for him to react and snap out of it.

"Huh?"

Bill's skin tingled from the other man's thumbs rubbing circles on his wrist, and he got asked again:

"Tell me about the last cool thing you learned?"

The question was familiar. It stirred something at the back of Bill's memories, as if he could vaguely see himself answering it before. But he didn't get a chance to explore that much further, as he gathered all his focus to try and form an answer:

"… dandelions," he murmured, squeezing too tight around Bobby's fingers.

The other man smiled, showing teeth, eyes glinting.

"Yeah? What about them?"

The new question kept pulling Bill away from the urges and he finally found it in himself to take one, deep breath.

"I went to read about them, after… that day, when you said they made you think of me."

His legs were starting to hurt from the awkward position, but Bobby must have noticed him flinching and before he could say anything, coaxed him into sitting cross-legged on the carpet then did the same, facing him.

"Did you know they're all edible?" Bill started. "I mean, the whole thing. Leaf, bud, flower, root… They're also part of the Asteraceae family, because it's not actually one flower but many small ones grouped together… so what we see as petals are actually just there to lure the insects in. And every seed that flies away is the product of one of those flowers."

He heard Bobby hum, and felt that all of a sudden, the air was flowing in better. He kept going, his voice catching at times but the knowledge there anyway:

"They're perennial. The roots are used to make a drink like coffee. Some people make jelly from the flowers. It's a diuretic and has often been used to rid the body of toxins…"

The list of what he'd memorized was dwindling. But, even as he scrambled for more facts, he realized that his breath had returned to a calmer rhythm, and that he didn't feel the need to rake his fingernails all over his forearms anymore.

The noise had gone.

He raised eyes full of wonder at Bobby who was watching him intently.

"It worked," Bill whispered, voice still hoarse.

"Never failed us before, has it?" Bobby asked, giving his hands a squeeze before pulling back and leaving him some space.

Bill stared at the floor between them. Now that his mind had cleared, he remembered when Bobby had suggested they first try this. His friend had just read some research paper on ways to trick the brain out of a high alert state and by getting Bill to think about something purely intellectual, they'd managed to redirect his brain's focus away from the panic and over-stimulation.

Fatigue settled over Bill with the weight of a concrete wall. He staggered up to his feet, only to be immediately caught in Bobby's arms.

"Shh, come here."

He let himself be guided until they were lowering onto the couch again, Bobby's arms wrapped around him in a secure hold – tight enough to let him know he wouldn't let go anytime soon, but not so much that it would get on his nerves and fray his sensitive skin.

It came naturally then, to tuck his head under Bobby's chin and let himself be surrounded by his scent. He still smelled the same, after all that time. Always reassuring, always… Something that was too much like home for it not to scare Bill into another attack. So he kept his eyes closed and focused on breathing him. In, and out. Until he couldn't remember anything else.

"You missed something," Bobby said out of the blue.

Bill twisted in his arms to look at him.

"What?"

Bobby was smiling, and lifted a hand to touch his fingertips to Bill's cheek.

"About dandelions. Do you know where the name comes from?"

Bill shook his head. He couldn't remember reading about that in the encyclopedia.

"What is it then?"

Bobby's thumb rubbed his cheekbone.

"Dent de lion. Lion's tooth, in French. I always regretted not telling you about that. Imagine what a killer nickname you'd have had on the boxing scene, huh? Lion's tooth! Or teeth, maybe, even more intimidating."

Bill laughed and shuffled further so he could sit properly, and hold Bobby's hands.

"I was never really on the boxing scene."

"Not with that attitude," Bobby raised his eyebrows at him.

Bill shook his head and leaned forward to kiss him. Bobby's hand slid around neck to hold the back of his head. When they parted, he nodded as if to himself.

"You know what? I trust you, dent de lion. You're a stubborn shit. If you tell me you really want to do this, this time, then… I believe you."

"You don't have to trust me blindly, Bobby. I haven't really shown that I deserve it."

The other man cocked his head and stared at him in silence, long enough that Bill's skin started to prickle again.

"What?" he asked, bristling under the attention.

"You've come here nearly every other weekend since June. You looked after Edgar with me for a whole day and you sang him lullabies. You take your dog to the vet as soon as he has the slightest inconvenience, despite how much you claim that you don't like him."

Bill looked away to stare at Bobby's latest painting. It was another still life, but one he was starting to know well. The edge of the pool, and the bed of flowers behind it.

"You asked me for help with a birthday present for Tom. Do you want me to go on with that list? Hey, are you listening to me?"

"Yeah I am," Bill mumbled at the floor.

Bobby sighed next to him, and Bill felt him shift on the couch, moving a little closer still.

"You're not nearly as bad a person as you think you are, Bill. You… yeah you messed up on some big things, years ago. And I wasn't keen to let you close again when you came back, because… well, those memories, they still hurt. And I…"

Bill looked up despite himself when he heard his lover's voice break.

"I never fell for anyone as hard as I did for you, Bill. And now we're here again, I… I want this to work, too."

"Please don't cry…"

Bobby waved him off, rubbing at the wetness on his lower lashes.

"You just have to promise me that you'll never pull that shit again. Pretending you don't know me, or throwing me under the bus. I'm not asking you to hold my hand in public, or to go to the Gay Pride with me…"

"Shh, stop."

Bobby was nearly panting when Bill interrupted him, and he did his best to suffocate the wave of self-hatred he felt at the knowledge that he'd done this. He had hurt this beautiful man so badly that he felt the need to wrap his heart in all these precautionary layers…

"I'm so sorry."

Bobby recoiled, and Bill scrambled to grab his hands again.

"No, no, not like that, I mean… You deserved better. And I don't know that I can… be exactly what you deserve. But I promise I'll really try, this time."

The other man let himself be pulled into another hug, and be the one with his head on Bill's chest, this time.

"I uh…" Bill added. "There's just a few things I might need to sort out. Over time."

Bobby craned his neck to squint at him.

"What, you haven't got a third wife stored somewhere?"

"No, come on. But… I might want to tell them about this. Not… not if you don't want me to."

"Wow, wait…" Bobby held up his hands, pulling out of the embrace. "Yesterday you said you haven't even considered yourself as bisexual before and now you want to come out to your ex-wives?"

Bill sighed, sagging to his elbows.

"No? Yes… I don't know! But… I can already tell Helen has questions that she's just not asking me, and… Well, Margaret hasn't met you but she's bound to if we're going to keep seeing each other that much… And she's far too insightful for her own good."

"Bill… I know I never liked the secrecy but… isn't this a little too fast? Can they be trusted about that?"

His head was beginning to hurt again, and before he knew it, his fingers had closed around strands of hair. He was only stopped from pulling by a strong grip around his wrists, tugging them out of place. Bobby's look was stern when he managed to get Bill to face him again.

"Hey."

"Hi…" Bill grimaced.

"You need to take your time. And I… need to tell you a few things more about… leading the life of a gay man."

"I went to my first gay bar ten years ago. I was forty-four. So you see, I wasn't that brave either. And I went alone, hoping that nobody would see me go in. Didn't really matter if I got recognized once I was inside, you know, since that would mean the person and I would share a secret. It never happened, funnily enough. I always thought I'd end up running into a colleague, but no. It was always just me.

It was… I don't know how to tell you what it felt like, being surrounded by people like me for the first time. I almost cried before I could order anything, and the bartender immediately knew I was a first timer. Had to explain to him that I wasn't a virgin and he couldn't believe that I'd managed to meet other gays in the wild. Well, if you call ‘the wild' knowing the right places to cruise. Anyway.

I didn't pick up anyone that night. I was too giddy with just… existing, that I couldn't be bothered thinking about sex. I must have stared frankly an indecent amount at the guys who were kissing there. Or holding hands, or dancing with each other. Just… in town, like that? Like I'd always wanted to do?

But then… the next week, I wanted to go again on Saturday, spend my evening there, get to know the other men. And then, in the middle of the week, I hear there's been a beating. Bunch of fascists waited by the bar and picked on the first two guys who left together. Didn't manage to kill them, but it was a close thing.

Of course I couldn't speak about that to anyone but Dorothy, and she was as terrified as I was. Sex revolution, but not for everyone, apparently. There were still people out there to get us.

So… I want you to understand this. Over the years, I blamed you for a lot of things. For not being honest with me. For losing me a job. For graciously letting me know you were getting married, a year after I moved away from you. But what I never blamed you for was being scared.

Because, and I hate to say it, you're right to be. Hell, what we just did is forbidden by law, in this stupid state. So… Please, take your time to think about this. And be careful about who you trust with the truth. If you think your exes are safe, good. But give it some thought first. What if Helen tells your boys about it, what if she makes a claim that… Well, you know what they say about people like me. What if she makes your boys lie. That would be the end, in a very permanent way.

I want to be with you. I do. But I also want it to last."

Bobby couldn't believe he'd gotten all those words out. His throat felt raw and he could almost taste the blood, memories pouring out of him too fast to be comfortable.

Next to him, Bill was staring at the ground with his mouth open. Taking it all in, he assumed. It might be some time, then. Bobby crossed his legs on the couch and grabbed the blanket to wrap around himself. What he would have given for a hug, right now.

He let the silence form around them as Bill likely processed all of what he'd just heard, and Bobby closed his eyes, letting the film of his life pass him by.

Fifty-four, and never in his life had he held a man's hand outside of his house. And he wasn't sure he ever would. He hadn't been as scared as Bill, not enough to stop him from seeking out the kind of love and companionship he really wanted. But he wasn't ready to put his life on the line for it.

"I always thought…" Bill began in a hushed voice, making Bobby strain towards him to hear his words. "You always behaved so freely, even talked about… being gay, or at least heavily implied it in the outside world. I thought you had the life you wanted…"

Bobby smiled through the pain.

"I lost the life I wanted when I left you."

Bill's shoulders started shaking.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered.

"For what?"

The other man was shaking his head now, but Bobby made himself be still. He needed comfort too, right now, and he couldn't always afford to put his emotions aside to deal with Bill's first.

"I don't know? For all I've done, I guess, but… mostly that I just assumed you were happy. I didn't think… Well, I probably let myself think that so the guilt wouldn't be so strong…"

"Bill. The state of the world isn't your fault."

"No, but maybe… we could have faced it together."

Bobby swallowed.

"Past tense?"

And finally, Bill looked at him. Bobby held his breath when he grew closer, closer, until he couldn't see him but in a blur and he was encompassed in the other man's embrace, two strong arms holding him. For a minute, Bobby allowed himself to feel safe.

"You're right," Bill went on. "If we're going to last this time, I can't rush into… whatever I thought I needed to."

"I want you to be with me," Bobby mumbled into the fabric of Bill's shirt. "But I also want you safe, and alive."

He felt Bill nod against him, and then a hand was in his hair and he forgot to think for a while.

Bobby watched Bill pack with a tight chest. He trusted that he would be back, but… The future had never looked so uncertain.

Poppy came out of nowhere to headbutt him in the shins, purring. He crouched with a half-smile, picking his cat up and holding him close. The vibrations against his ribcage managed to soothe his frantic heartbeat and thoughts, and by the time he heard Bill zipping his suitcase shut, he felt a little more ready.

Bill turned around at the door to face him.

"I'll call you."

It felt like a ritual, by now. Almost every weekend of the summer, it had been their last exchange. A stand in for whatever else they really wanted to say, and weren't allowing themselves to.

This time, however, Bobby gave in to his real desire. He let Poppy back down, leaned in, a hand on Bill's jaw, and kissed him. Slow and steady, until Bill's back was against the door and he was clinging to Bobby's shoulder.

Bobby didn't hide his pride when he pulled back to leave his lover slightly breathless.

"You're not um… making it very easy for me to leave," Bill exhaled.

So if he stole another kiss, Bobby couldn't be blamed. Not when Bill drew him in with as much force. When he started feeling him harden against his thigh, though, he made himself let go. They couldn't begin anything if Bill needed to be on the road soon.

"Don't want you too horny on the road," Bobby mouthed against Bill's cheek.

"That's not starting off so well," Bill laughed, and Bobby melted at feeling his belly shake with it.

"Okay, okay, I'm letting you go," Bobby made himself say, and stepped back a few feet.

"I'll miss you too, you know. I do, every time I'm away."

"Bill…"

"Shit, yeah… You're right, I'm never going to leave at this rate."

Bobby ran both hands through his hair in frustration.

"It's not that I want you gone…"

"I know."

He closed his eyes and turned around.

"Go before I change my mind," he ordered, hugging his own chest.

He thought he felt a breeze caress the back of his neck, one last loving touch as Bill opened the door, rolled his suitcase through it, and left. Bobby stayed standing in the entrance until he heard Bill's car switch on and pull off his driveway.

When he was sure Bill wasn't coming back, he dragged himself to the couch and sprawled there, waiting for Poppy to jump to his usual spot before he pulled the blanket over both of them. He felt his cat knead at his chest a bit before he stretched out, the tip of his nose poking out of the blanket.

"Mreow?"

Bobby chuckled, and extended his index to rub at Poppy's chin.

"Yep. Dad's let himself fall in love again."