13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Floyd

Floyd's throat was tight as he rode the elevator to the surface, his muscles tense from trying to hold in his upset for hours on end. He hadn't even managed to find a replacement butty for the remainder of his shift. It hadn't mattered to him that it was against the rules to work alone. It had been too hard to think of working with anyone else, both because he missed Ollie and because he was still on the verge of tears. He couldn't let others see him this way. Them horrible words— Matt is dead —they had struck him with the force of a bullet. Now all Floyd wanted was to be alone so that he could bleed.

Once Floyd found his car, he stood beside it to wait for his turn at the weigh station. It looked like there was some kind of hold-up. One of the senior men who worked in the mines—a man with silver hair named Ed Allen—looked real upset, mumbling curses and tapping one of his feet. Probably Ed had been waiting for his car for a while. It happened sometimes. Maybe it was stuck somewhere underground. Floyd hoped it would all be sorted out soon. He was teetering on the edge of crying or screaming or maybe even both. He couldn't let these fine folks be witness to his inevitable, eventual outburst.

Folding his arms in front of his chest, Floyd tried to hold in his upset for a little while longer. Not two minutes later, little Billy Davis came running toward the weight station.

"Sorry, Mister Allen," Billy huffed, catching his breath. "Accident."

Floyd crooked an eyebrow.

"Where's my God-dang car?" Ed asked.

"I was working with that yellow-haired man—uh, Mister Oliver—and the car tipped over."

Floyd's stomach sank, plummeting so far and fast it felt like it had fallen to the bottom of the mine shaft. He pushed forward to the front of the line.

"What happened?"

"Mister Oliver was helping me chase them coal cars with the sprags."

Floyd's heart was hammering in his chest while he sucked in a series of sharp inhales. "And a car tipped?!"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Was Ollie hurt?!"

"Yeah, but—"

"Where is he?!"

"Home, I think."

Immediately, Floyd took off running, leaving his coal car behind and, therefore, leaving his earnings behind, too. As Floyd neared the main road, his hat flew off, but he refused to stop for it. None of these things mattered no more. Bounding through town, Floyd's mind was racing even faster than his legs, horrible scenes flickering through his mind with every step, like one of them flip books, only the pictures were mismatched, showing Ollie with a crushed hand or a broken leg or missing fingers. Sometimes, Floyd even pictured poor Ollie suffocating beneath a pile of coal, though that wouldn't make no sense since Ollie had somehow made it home. Still, Floyd couldn't stop imagining these horrible things.

Floyd had some vague sense that he was still supposed to be sore at Ollie for hollering in the mine—for calling him sweetheart in public and talking about Matt the way he had—but he couldn't even care about those things now. All Floyd cared about was making sure that Ollie wasn't hurt too bad. He couldn't hardly believe that he had wasted so much time afeared of letting himself be with Ollie. Floyd had been letting his worriment over forgetting Matt take over his mind. Ollie had been right. Floyd had been pushing him away. He had been so afeared of losing Matt that he hadn't even been thinking 'bout how he could have lost Ollie. Forever.

As soon as Floyd reached Ollie's house, he began pounding his fist on the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he waited. When Ollie hadn't opened up in less than twenty seconds, Floyd started hitting the wood even harder.

"Ollie!" Floyd yelled, so terrified he felt like he might burst out of his skin. "Ollie, open up! Are you in there? Are you hurt?"

Finally, Ollie opened the door.

"Hi," Ollie said, sounding sheepish.

Floyd's eyes started roaming over Ollie's body, searching for injuries. He seemed fine, somehow, though still filthy from work.

Pressing a hand flat to Ollie's chest, Floyd shoved him backward into the house and followed, kicking the door shut with the heel of his boot.

Ollie started saying, "Sweetheart, I'm sorry for—"

But Floyd placed one hand on either side of his face and cut him off with a hard, impassioned kiss, pressing their lips together with a force that nearly knocked Ollie back again. Heck, he was kissing Ollie so hard that it was barely even a kiss anymore. It was more like he was fixing to meld their faces together.

Once Floyd was satisfied that he had nearly kissed Ollie to death, he pulled away, and then both of them were panting from the intensity of it.

"You're safe," Floyd said, tipping their foreheads together. "Dog-gone-it, Ollie, I nearly lost myself to worriment on the way over here."

"Yes, I'm safe. I'm fine," Ollie said. "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

Floyd's hands fell to Ollie's shoulders, and Ollie let out a sound in between a scream and a cry, causing Floyd to recoil.

"Sorry," Ollie eked out. "Shoulder."

"How'd you manage that?"

"I'm not sure if you know this, but it's very hard to stop a one-hundred-ton coal car once it starts careening out of control. If you've ever considered trying to somehow catch it with your body, I really cannot stress enough how horrible of an idea that is."

Floyd's hands flew to cover his mouth, stifling a cry, and his entire body started to shake, images of the mine collapse in McDowell flitting through his mind.

Over the next few seconds, Floyd's body continued to tremble, his muscles eventually vibrating with so much intensity it seemed like a right miracle that he was still standing.

"I'm safe," Ollie said, reaching up to touch Floyd's forearms. "I'm hurt, but I'm safe." But Floyd could tell that Ollie was fighting back a wince. "Floyd, sit," Ollie said, his voice soft. "I'm safe."

While Ollie kept repeating those two wonderful words, Floyd moved past him into the kitchen area, now barely even hanging on to the present. More and more images of his past flashed in his mind, making him feel lightheaded. But Floyd forced himself to push through it. Because Ollie needed him now.

"You ought to be resting," Floyd said, whirling back around to face him. Only then did he notice the cuts on Ollie's hands. "Gosh, Ollie, what happened to your hands? Were you sorting coal?"

Ollie hooked his hands behind his back like he wanted to hide them. "Yeah, I was. Before I became the world's sorriest excuse for a spragger, that is."

All of a sudden, Floyd's teeth started to chatter, too, shaking right along with the rest of him.

"W-we need some g-goose grease," he said.

Ollie started toward him. "I have some, actually, but, uhm, I couldn't open it. You know, my shoulder..."

"I c-can open it for you."

"Sweetheart—"

Ollie reached out to stop him, but Floyd side-stepped his outstretched hand. Somehow, he managed to make it to the counter to fetch the jar, though his legs still felt so wobbly.

"Let me try one more—" Ollie's words were interrupted by the pop of the lid. "Don't worry about taking care of me. You're the one who should be resting. Look at you. You're shaking."

Once Floyd had the ointment ready, he pointed to the couch, wordlessly instructing Ollie to take a seat.

"Nah, I'm f-fine. I'm not the one hurt. N-not like you," Floyd said, coming to meet Ollie on the couch. "Gosh, your p-poor hands."

But the moment Floyd plopped himself onto the cushion, his trembling became worse. Ollie wrapped him up in a hug, hissing once, probably from the pain in his shoulder.

"S-sorry," Floyd said. "I was so worried on the way over. I think my b-body must be reacting funny to the fright I was feeling before. I k-kept picturing such horrible things. I k-keep picturing them now, too."

Ollie stroked Floyd's back and hushed him.

"I know, I know," he said.

"I'm so sorry, Ollie. I n-never ought to have treated you like that—screaming at you and telling you to leave."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you either, sweetheart," Ollie murmured next to Floyd's ear before pulling back and looking him in the eye. "I had it in my head that you were pushing me away. And, well, maybe you were, but I'm sure it wasn't intentional. I probably overreacted. I'm really sorry."

"I was pushing you away. Sort of on p-purpose, too."

"Oh," Ollie said, his voice sad and far away.

Floyd took a breath to calm himself and then he stuck his trembling fingers in the solidified fat. Taking Ollie's hands in his own, Floyd began working the salve onto his skin.

Minutes passed. Finally, Floyd's shaking started to slow, stopping only once those horrible memories stopped flashing in his brain. Thankfully, once Floyd's shaking stopped, his teeth stopped chattering too.

"Wasn't because of something you did," Floyd said, still massaging one of Ollie's hands. "Or because I ain't want to be with you no more. Of course I still want to be with you, Ollie, but..." He heaved a sigh. "But sometimes, when I'm with you, it feels like I'm losing Matt. And I know that he ain't here no more. I know he's..."

Floyd trailed off, one last image of the blocked tunnel flashing in his mind and cutting off his words.

"Don't force yourself to say it, Floyd."

"No, I need to." Floyd sucked in a long inhale through his nose and blew it out slowly, telling himself that he needed to face this. He'd been running from his sadness for much too long. "I know Matt is... I know Matt is dead." His voice cracked when he said it, right along with his heart. Tears sprang to his eyes, the pain in his chest now so intense he could barely breathe. Inhaling a shaky breath, he said, "Sorry. I never said it aloud before." As soon as the last word tumbled out of Floyd's mouth, he started to cry, and in only seconds, he was bawling, crying a whole eight years' worth of tears at once, and then his body started shaking from sadness instead of fear. "I ain't never said it," he repeated through a sob.

Ollie pulled his hands away, and then Floyd felt Ollie's arms wrap around him. Floyd fell into them, burying his face into the crook of Ollie's neck before a tiny squeak reminded him about Ollie's injury. And so, Floyd moved lower, first resting his head on Ollie's chest, and then letting it fall onto Ollie's lap, curling his legs up onto the couch in the process. He cried and cried and cried.

"I'm here, sweetheart," Ollie said, softly stroking Floyd's hair.

Those words had Floyd thinking of everything Ollie had said back in the mine, reminding him of the fact that he could have lost Ollie, too, which then had him crying even more. How could he have been such a fool?

Ollie, unaware that Floyd was now crying about nearly losing him, too, not only about having lost Matt, said, "I'm so sorry you lost him."

And Floyd wondered how Ollie could be so wonderful?

Over the next few minutes, Floyd continued to let himself cry. Tears poured from his eyes in a steady stream.

In between his sobs, he said, "I'm so sorry, Ollie."

"Don't be," Ollie said sweetly.

"Why'd he have to die? Why'd Matt have to die?" Floyd choked out. "He was my best friend."

"I know," Ollie said, caressing Floyd's wet cheek.

"I love him," Floyd said even though he felt so horrible for it. Ollie was right here loving him and caring for him and still, Floyd was crying about his lost friend. "I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry that I miss him."

"No, sweetheart. Don't ever be sorry for that."

"But you were right. You're here and Matt's not. And I been treating you so bad."

"You haven't been. Really." Ollie cupped Floyd's cheek to tilt Floyd's head so that he could look up at him. "And I never meant that you shouldn't miss him."

"What am I supposed to do with it, Ollie? I know it probably makes you feel bad that I still think about him, that I want to think about him, but I'm afeared that if I ain't careful, I'll forget him. And I never want to forget him."

"I won't let you forget him."

"Don't it make you sad that I love him?"

"No, not anymore," Ollie said. "For a little while, maybe, but that was wrong of me. I was feeling insecure. It wasn't ever really about the fact that you love Matt, but that I felt like you weren't letting me be your partner—your real partner—in the mine."

"I was only trying to keep you safe," Floyd said, sitting up. "I never told you this, but Matt..." He buried his head in his hands. "We were working together when I left to buy some black powder. Matt wanted to stay behind to collect some more coal, and there was..." Floyd felt a pinching in his chest, the memory cutting through him like a knife. "Oh God, Ollie, there was a cave in."

"Oh, fuck, I..." Ollie took Floyd's hand and squeezed. "I wish I knew what to say. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"I only ever wanted to keep you safe, Ollie," Floyd said through a sniffle.

"Gosh, Floyd, I know. I know that now. I won't let my insecurity hurt you like this again."

"Just tell me when you're feeling like that."

"I will. And I won't ever be sad about your love for Matt again. I promise." Ollie released Floyd's hand and started stroking his cheek instead, the back of his fingers caressing his skin. "Please never feel like you can't talk about him."

Floyd took Ollie's hand away from his face, worried that his stubble might irritate the redness, even though the majority of Ollie's injuries were on his palms.

"I won't," Floyd said before kissing Ollie's knuckles.

"For the last few weeks, I've been feeling like you were keeping something from me. Like you were keeping yourself from me. Because you hadn't been talking about Matt as much."

"Because I thought it'd hurt you. You seemed so sad when you found out Matt was my butty."

"I know," Ollie said. "I'm so mad at myself for that. Anytime you want to talk about Matt, I'll listen. Anytime you want to be sad about Matt, I'll be sad with you. Or not. Sometimes it's nice to be sad alone. I can understand that. So, it's, well, whatever you want, really. Just, please, let me in. Don't push me away like that."

"I won't push you away," Floyd said, leaning forward to kiss their foreheads together. He took a moment to breathe in Ollie's scent—sweet and musky and perfect—and then straightened up again. While it was true that he had picked a fight with Ollie intentionally, the subject matter—the scuffle between the miners and the coal operators and Chafin—really had been upsetting him. He figured it was time to tell Ollie the truth about everything, no matter how horrible it might make him seem. "I reckon I ought to tell you something else. Something that might make you not want to be with me no more."

"Nothing could make me not want to be with you," Ollie said. "You're my sweetheart."

"Maybe not once you hear this," Floyd said, shame creeping up the back of his neck, burning his skin and reddening his cheeks. "I... well, I heard that the UMWA wants to make things safer for us miners. Which is the right thing to do, I know it's the right thing to do, but... but it ain't fair to Matt." Floyd choked a sob but held the rest in, briefly covering his mouth with his free hand to try to keep himself from crying. Some seconds passed before he could remove it and continue. "I can't know whether some of them safety is fighting for would have helped Matt, but it still makes me mad to think there could be changes. Because it's too late for him. I hate that it's too late for him."

"I'm so sorry." Ollie squeezed his hand. "For what it's worth, I think it's probably normal to feel the way you do. Or if it's not, well, who cares? Not me, certainly. I still love you. You're still my sweetheart, Floyd. You'll always be my sweetheart."

"Thanks, Ollie. I feel so bad for feeling this way, which is why I'm so upset whenever people bring up the UMWA maybe taking hold here in West Virginia. Everyone out here deserves better. I know that, but—"

"But Matt deserved better, too."

Meeting Ollie's kind eyes, Floyd nodded. He wondered how he could be so lucky to find someone who seemed to understand. Minutes passed while Floyd let the wave of sadness recede, Ollie rubbing the back of Floyd's hand with his thumb in the meantime.

"Thanks, Ollie," Floyd finally said. "I'm feeling better now."

"Floyd, love," Ollie said, reaching up to cup Floyd's cheek. "I hope you won't dwell on the way things have been between us for the last week. I completely understand why you were pushing me away. And why you've been so mad whenever people have brought up the UMWA. I'm not mad at you. Not even a little." He tapped Floyd's nose with his index finger in a playful sort of way. "I will be mad at you if you stay mad at yourself, though. I can't have you beating yourself up for it. I've only experienced one slap from you and holy hell, was it painful."

Floyd huffed a short laugh, wiping the tears from his eyes. Ollie knew how to be funny at the exact perfect times.

"I won't," Floyd said. "I won't beat myself up, but more importantly, I won't never push you away like that again."

Ollie's mouth twisted up into a wry smile. "So you will push me away like that again."

Floyd had to restrain himself from shoving Ollie backward a little.

"I really missed you," Floyd said, and Ollie leaned forward to share a kiss. Feeling Ollie's soft lips on his own, Floyd let out a sigh, though eventually he forced himself to break their kiss so that he could look into Ollie's beautiful brown-green eyes. He kissed Ollie's nose and chin and cheek. "Gosh, I want to kiss you all over. I need to show you how much I missed you."

"Good," Ollie said, his smile so big his eyes were crinkling in the corners. "Because I want to kiss you all over, too."

Seeing Ollie's eye wrinkles—the little crevices in his coal-stained face—made Floyd remember how filthy both of them were. As he studied Ollie's skin, he hummed to himself and thought about how nice it might be to wash up together.

"Maybe we ought to clean ourselves first," Floyd said.

"Probably."

"I reckon a warm rag would feel nice on your shoulder, too."

"I like that idea."

"I'll fix everything up for us. You stay here and rest."

"You want me to try to rest on this lumpy couch? Fuck, sweetheart, I can't believe you'd want to punish me like that."

"Shut up, Ollie."

Ollie's hand flew to his chest. "It's like a knife to my heart."

Laughing, Floyd otherwise ignored that and set to work preparing the water, fetching some from the water pump and warming it on the stove. He filled the tin bath near to the brim.

When Floyd was finally finished, he called Ollie over. Ollie started to undress himself, but Floyd could tell that moving so much was bothering his shoulder, and so, Floyd worked to unfasten the rest of Ollie's shirt buttons himself. After Ollie's button-down shirt was off, Floyd worked to undress himself, too. Soon, they were both in their work pants, which Floyd then started to remove, his heart pitter-pattering from excitement the entire time.

Once they were both only wearing their undergarments and Floyd could see the outline of Ollie's half-hard cock beneath the silk fabric, he realized that he was finally ready for something more.

"Can I take these off?" Floyd asked, tugging on the front button.

"Yeah?"

"Only if you want me to."

"Of course I want you to."

Working the first button, Floyd could see that Ollie's cock had already begun to stiffen some more. His own cotton undergarments were becoming tighter, too. As soon as Floyd unfastened the final button, Ollie's cock sprang free. Floyd stared at it for a while, forgetting to breathe.

"I, uh, I hope it's... satisfactory?" Ollie said, probably because Floyd was being so quiet.

For some reason, Floyd couldn't think of what to say. He just kept staring in wonderment at the beautiful sight before him. After a few more seconds of wordless staring, he had the sense to force himself to find a compliment, though Floyd thought that whatever he said would never really be enough.

"You have a real handsome cock, Ollie."

Ollie laughed. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'd touch you, but I ain't clean yet."

"Well, then, we better wash up."

Floyd reached for the cloth, but Ollie stopped him.

"What about you?" Ollie asked, moving his hand to the buttons on Floyd's one-piece undergarment. "Not that you have to, of course. It's perfectly fine if you aren't ready for that yet."

"I am. Just forgot, is all."

As Floyd unfastened the buttons, his stomach started to roll all over the place. Even though Ollie had touched him a couple of times, Ollie still hadn't seen him. All of a sudden, Floyd felt worried for some reason. Ollie's cock was pretty, like the rest of him was pretty. His own cock had never seemed very pretty to him. He hoped Ollie would like it.

As soon as Floyd's cock was visible, he looked up to see Ollie's reaction, only to be met with what he thought were the hungriest, most lustful looking eyes he had ever seen.

"Jesus, sweetheart," Ollie said, the corner of his mouth curling up into the most adorable half-smile. "Is that really for me?"

"All for you," Floyd said, his stomach flip-flopping when he said it.

Floyd was still wriggling out of his undergarments when one of Ollie's hands came up to snake around his neck. Ollie's mouth claimed his with a kiss. Lips still locked with Ollie's, Floyd fumbled for the washing cloth. Once he found it, he plunged his hand into the water and then broke their kiss so that he could wring it out properly.

He touched the cloth to Ollie's shoulder, coaxing forth a thankful-sounding moan.

"Thank you for suggesting this," Ollie said. "God, that feels so nice."

Floyd sighed. "I'm sorry you were hurt today. I ought to have protected you."

"From my own clumsiness?"

"It was wrong for me to send you away like that," Floyd said, removing the cloth to reveal a smattering of black and blue and purple. Leaning forward, he lightly touched his lips to the newly formed bruise. "I hope I ain't hurting you now."

"Not at all."

Floyd kissed Ollie's shoulder once more and then submerged the cloth in the water.

Over the next few minutes, Floyd slowly ran the cloth over Ollie's body, feeling like he was not only cleaning away the sweat and the coal dust, but everything that was bad about the last week. After Floyd finished cleaning Ollie's body, Ollie took the rag from him and cleaned Floyd's. He moved real slow, probably because of his shoulder, but Floyd wondered if maybe Ollie was trying to savor this time together, too.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Ollie said in the kindest, most tender voice.

It felt nice to be admired in the way that Ollie was admiring him. Even though Floyd liked himself plenty, it was still a nice feeling to know that Ollie liked him plenty, too.

"Bedroom?" Ollie asked when he was finished.

"Yeah," Floyd said, taking the wet cloth and dropping it into the water. "Let me carry you."

Ollie wrapped his arms around Floyd's neck, and Floyd hoisted Ollie into the air, reminding himself not to move too fast. Ollie's legs wrapped around him, and Ollie nuzzled the side of Floyd's face.

"Thank you," Ollie whispered.

Soon, they were in bed together, and Floyd climbed on top of Ollie, which was kind of new for them. Ollie probably couldn't hold himself up much because of his shoulder, though, so Floyd wasn't minding the newness, really, even though he normally loved when Ollie took control. Floyd started peppering kisses all over Ollie's face and neck and chest, pausing for a moment before moving lower.

"I want to take care of you," Floyd said. "Can I?"

"I'd like to take care of you, too," Ollie said, some sadness in his voice.

Floyd came up to kiss that sadness away, first lightly pressing his lips to Ollie's hurt shoulder and then kissing him once on his plump, pink lips.

"We'll figure something out even with your shoulder like that," Floyd said. "But let me care for you first. I been pushing you away when you needed me to love you. I feel so bad about that. I want to show you how important you are to me, Ollie. I want you to know how much you mean to me."

Ollie pulled Floyd in for another kiss. Floyd continued to kiss him for a while, rolling his hips to massage his erection against Ollie's thigh. He was so happy, so excited for the two of them to be close again that he could feel himself inching toward the edge already.

Remembering that he wanted to focus on Ollie, Floyd broke their kiss and moved lower on the mattress, coming to hover above Ollie's cock.

"Tell me what you need."