Just One of Those Things Ch. 04

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Vince and Jack realize what they need.
7.5k words
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Part 4 of the 5 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 01/05/2013
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Jack

I was lying on my futon/couch, every inch of my body aching after one of the more notable days in my recent history. Today had been an LGBT support group meeting. We had moved across campus a few weeks ago to lose the hecklers, but when we let out today we were greeted by something worse - some wanna-be paparazzo, no doubt thinking he could make a few bucks outing the children of the rich and famous. I had blindly chased him into the street, where, not surprisingly, I had been flattened by the front bumper of a Chevy S10 pickup. I was banged up pretty good, but nothing broken. Still, not exactly my finest hour. Sadly enough, it was a distant second on the list of stupid situations I had gotten myself into in the last few weeks.

It had only been a couple days since I had started talking to Vince again, thus escalating situation number one to an entirely new level of stupid. Whatever my heart told me, Vince was simply not an option. I should have walked away, but the truth was I couldn't stand seeing his silent suffering. I might have been pissed at Vince for expecting me to be able to just forget how I felt and be friends again, but then again the poor guy was so fucked up in the personal relationships department that I was positive he didn't really understand what he was asking of me. Besides, I was the only person who knew his secret, the only person he could talk to. My brother was right - I was a soft touch.

But what really worried me, the reason I needed some more time to sort myself out, the reason I wasn't sure any amount of time would be enough, was that I wasn't at all sure I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off him if given half a chance.

But, unlucky for me, I wasn't going to get the chance to sort it out before things came to a head.

That's where I was when I was jolted out of a semi-lucid haze by someone pounding on my door. I didn't notice it right away because it had blended in with the sound of sleet now pelting the window as the first winter storm of the year rolled in. Reflexively I tried to get up, and immediately regretted it.

"It's open," I called, easing back with my eyes squeezed closed.

I heard someone enter. I was expecting my landlord. When I was low on cash he would give me leftovers from his restaurant in exchange for doing some maintenance work. Of course the food would have gone in the trash anyway, but I didn't push it because this was the only building I could afford within five miles of campus that wasn't full of drug dealers and hookers.

"I guess it's true then." I was startled by Vince's voice.

I stared blearily at him for a moment, half-thinking this was some perverse trick of my mind. This was not a temptation I was in any state to handle right now. That's when I realized what was wrong with this picture.

"How'd you get here?" Duh. I corrected, "It's a blizzard out there, what are you doing driving?"

"Checking on you, obviously. I heard you got hit by a car."

Fantastic. Apparently the fact that I was dumb enough to step into moving traffic had become common knowledge. "Yeah. Not to sound ungrateful, but why didn't you just call? It was dangerous coming over here."

"I tried, it went straight to voicemail."

I pointed to my coat, which I had left lying in a dirty torn up heap on the floor by the door. Vince retrieved my cell phone from the pocket. Or, rather, the pieces of my cell phone. This day just kept getting better and better.

Vince handed it to me. "Are you okay?"

"I think I'll survive."

"That's not what I asked." He looked me up and down with a frown.

I slowly hauled myself into a sitting position to survey the damage to my phone. "I don't need a doctor, if that's what you mean. How'd you find out anyway?"

"Jamie called me." Jamie was a mutual acquaintance of ours (probably the only mutual acquaintance given our vastly different circles), a Log Cabin Republican active in campus politics and also one of the other mentors in the LGBT group.

Turning my attention to my phone I found that the screen was badly cracked and the back panel was in two pieces, but body damage seemed to be the extent of it. "It actually isn't as bad as it looks." I thought aloud.

"Well, that's good, because you look like shit."

"Not me, the phone. Thanks though." I hadn't looked in the mirror yet, but took his word for it.

"How did you get hit by a car anyway?"

I told Vince what had happened while I fixed my phone.

"So," he asked when I had finished, "did the guy get away?"

"Nah. He freaked out and dropped his camera in the road. It got pulverized." It had been an expensive one too, I thought with some satisfaction.

"That's lucky."

"Yeah, well, some of the damage was already done. A few of the kids got scared off, probably for good. It's a real shame too because those were the ones who needed the group."

After some tinkering I managed to fit the battery back into place. I pressed the power button and the screen flickered to life, distorted but readable. The first thing I noticed was that there were eleven missed calls and five voicemail messages, all from Vince. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" he shrugged. "I told you I tried to call you."

"Yes you did."

"I was worried."

"Obviously."

He indicated my phone. "You can probably delete those."

This could be interesting. I pretended to delete them.

"As long as I'm here, you could probably use some help."

As long as he's here. Which, judging by the weather, is going to be a while. I wasn't sure I was up to this, but then again it's not like I had a choice.

I let Vince pull me to the bathroom and then help me wrestle my shirt over my head. He looked me up and down and gave a low whistle.

"It's just scrapes and bruises," I pointed out. "Weren't you ever a kid?"

"Your childhood must have been a little more intense than mine."

"Are you kidding?" I joked. "You were the one living on the edge. Polo horses, yachting, skiing in Aspen..."Driving around in a blizzard because I didn't pick up the phone."It's a wonder you made it out in one piece."

"Born to be wild, that's me," he snorted. "Do you have any first aid stuff?"

"There's peroxide and some washcloths under the sink."

The worst of it was on my left side, where I had hit the concrete after being thrown from the truck's hood when the driver slammed on the breaks. Vince started at my shoulder, the sting of the peroxide doing very little to distract me from the fact that his other hand was resting unnecessarily on my chest. I shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the pain. I wiggled away, trying to disguise it as a flinch. "Sorry," he murmured, but didn't move his hand.

"Would you believe this isn't the first time I was hit by a car?"

He shook his head. "No kidding. And I thought you were supposed to be some sort of genius."

"Yeah right."

"Who were you chasing that time?"

"Well, when I was about fourteen two of our neighbor's sons, Larry and Darryl..."

Vince spurted out laughing and waved me away.

"I shit you not. Larry and Darryl. Real good ol' boy types, too. Always had it in for us. So they sneak onto our wood lot at three in the morning, tear down a wall of the henhouse and steal one of the best laying hens and the rooster. Now this isn't fucking around, not to us, we depended on those birds. So me and Alan take off after them, middle of November, fifteen degrees out in nothing but long johns. We catch them just as they get back to their truck. Alan goes for the door and I get in front of the hood to stop them."

"It didn't stop them."

I shook my head. "Didn't get far though. With the chickens flapping around in the cab of the truck, the dumb sonsabitches drive off the road and hit a tree." I couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "When they tried to make a run for it Alan caught them and kicked the holy shit out of them." I was rambling and I knew it, but I desperately needed the distraction because Vince was so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"Were you hurt bad?"

"No bones were sticking out. But Alan kept me up all night in case I had a concussion."

"Did you?" He had moved to a cut on my scalp above my left temple, I think from where I hit the windshield. He couldn't have been more than six inches from my face, clearly too absorbed with what he was doing to realize how he was affecting me.

"Did I what?" I asked dumbly.

"Have a concussion."

"Probably."

"Do you have one now?" he asked, misinterpreting my mental slowness.

I had to think for a few seconds before I said no. Although it would explain the dulling throb in my head. And also why I told him that dumbass chicken story. That's when I noticed he was smiling. Was he making fun of me?

"What? Think I'm a redneck now?"

"No." He pulled back a little with a mischevious grin. "I already thought that. I like your accent though. I thought you were joking the other day with that overdone Bar Harbor thing. But you do have it a little. When you were arguing with Professor Frank a couple weeks ago about the health care law you kept calling Boston 'Ba-stin'."

"So, Yankee redneck."

He grinned. "That's good. Much better than the people I'm used to. I swear to God our next door neighbor growing up sounded like Thurston Howell III." He then launched into possibly the worst voice impression I had ever heard in my life.

"Ow," I grabbed my side, "Stop making me laugh."

He put his hand on my arm to steady me, and in the space of one disarmed moment his proximity went from uncomfortable to intolerable. I only prayed he thought the choppy breathing was from the pain. When I felt his warm breath on my exposed skin I squeezed my eyes shut and tightened my grip on the edge of the tub, taking a couple deep breaths. But when I opened my eyes Vince was watching in concern.

"Jack, are you..."

But just then my phone trilled, and I took the opportunity to jump up and put some space between me and Vince. I checked caller ID then hit answer.

"Hey Julian."

"Hey! Jeez, am I glad to hear you."

"What's up?"

"Okay this may sound crazy, but I heard that you got hit by a car." I mouthed a curse. Waseveryonegoing to find out about this?

"Um...yeah, it was technically a truck."

"Oh my God!" he shrieked.

"I'll be fine." I loved Julian, I really did, but the boy was sheltered and overprotective to say the least. I had to spend the next five minutes convincing him that yes, I was really okay, and no, he should absolutely not come over.

I don't know why I was reluctant to tell him that Vince was already there, but in the end I didn't have a choice.

"Really?" Julian sounded skeptical.

"Yeah, why not? Do you think I'd lie just to keep you from coming over?"

"In this weather? Yes."

"So I'm a liar, but a considerate one?" I handed the phone to Vince, who was interrogated for another five minutes while moving his attention from my shoulder to my skinned elbow. I could tell Julian was asking specific questions which Vince tried to answer as reassuringly as possible. Finally when it became clear Julian was getting more worked up I had to take the phone away, make a quick goodbye, and hang up.

"Sounds like he was really worried," commented Vince as he switched out a dirty cloth.

"I think that's his natural state," I grumbled, "God help that guy's future kids."

Vince wasn't buying it. "Look, I know it's none of my business, but are you two, you know..."

"No." I replied way too quickly.

"Oh." He didn't make eye contact. "Why not? Julian's obviously interested."

Why not?Seriously? "Jealous?"

"Honestly? Yeah, I am. I miss being friends. I miss you." Well, Vince was nothing if not forthright.

Vince had been cleaning the skinned heel of my palm, which still had little bits of gravel in it. The pain had been a good distraction but now he had stopped, still holding my hand, rubbing his thumb nervously in the undamaged center of my palm, making my head light in a way that had nothing to do with the accident. There's no way he could have known how crazy that would make me. I yanked my hand away, not bothering to disguise it this time as pain. This was starting to get out of hand.

Vince sat back on his heels with a frown.

There was no doubt that I was being a jerk to him at this point, which was really crappy considering he had come all this way just to check on me, but right now it was a thousand times better than what I really wanted to do to him.

"You said you wanted to start talking again," Vince continued. "I thought we were doing good." God damned that puppy dog look.

"So, we fixed a car together."

"You told me about yourself. Your parents, your brother..."

"You asked. It's not like the basic biographical information about my life is reserved for close friends." I flinched knowing I had gone too far.

"So, what, now we'renotfriends? What's your problem?" He made a frustrated sound and stood up. "You know what? I recognize this is weird for you, and I tried to respect that, I really did, but I gave you six weeks to get over it. Fucking suck it up already."

"Suck it up?" It took a couple seconds for his words to really register. "Jesus Christ Vince, I know you have a severely fucked up personal life, and you don't understand what it's like to have these sorts of feelings for someone, but I've got to tell you it is NOT something that goes away in a few weeks, however convenient that would be for you."

The entire time I was talking Vince just looked at me like I was speaking Greek. "What the hell are you talking about? What..." Then he froze in mid-sentence, his eyes growing wide in a way that made my stomach plummet. "Oh."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "You didn't know, did you?"

Vince started to say something, balked, and then shook his head, eyes still wide as saucers.

"Great, just fucking great." I breathed. "Looks like we're in for an awkward night, so let's get this over with." But before I could reach for the peroxide I stopped and rounded on him. "How did younotknow? Why the fuck did you think I was avoiding you?" I was as angry with myself as I was with him. I should have noticed that he wasn't getting it, but my brain just wasn't firing on all cylinders right now.

"I don't know," he responded, raising his voice slightly. "I don't know. What the hell do I know about... aboutthatsort of thing? So that's why you were acting so weird about me touching you...Shit, shit shit..." he ran his hand through his hair and started pacing.

I was silent as Vince had his minor freak out. I could see in his face that I had just changed the game, and I was sure that, whatever bond of trust we had forged over the last few months, I had just broken it.

"I should probably go," Vince murmured.

"You can't." He followed my gaze out the window. I couldn't see the opposite building through the snow anymore, and it was still an hour before sunset.

"I got here all right..."

"Jesus Vince," I snapped. "It's not like I'm going to rape you. I have some self-control." I shut my eyes and evened out my tone. "It's not safe to leave. Trust me, right now I'm not thrilled about it either." Even under the circumstances, it wasn't exactly an ego boost to have someone react to your (unintentional) admission of love by looking like he's thinking of jumping out the window.

Vince started at my blunt comment and seemed to snap out of it. "Um, yeah. It's just kind of hard to process. I never thought anyone would..."

"Couldn't help it," I shrugged. He looked at me like I was nuts.

"You must have thought I was a real asshole for not leaving you alone. Which really explains a lot."

"I figured you didn't know what you were asking for."

I could usually tell exactly what Vince was thinking, but the look he was giving me now was unreadable. He took the washcloth from my hand and dutifully continued to disinfect my scrapes and cuts, maintaining a healthy distance from me this time.

After fifteen minutes of awkward silence he had my upper body and face cleaned up. "Anywhere else?" he asked.

The truck's bumper had hit me about mid thigh, and a deep throbbing pain told me it was something that would have to be dealt with. But taking my pants off in front of Vince was not an appealing prospect.

"Nothing I can't handle myself."

"I'm already stuck here."

Stuck here.Fine, I thought. It's not like this could get any more uncomfortable.

I kicked off my pants, cursing the obscene bulge in my underwear.Seriously, still?I tried to shrug, like, what're you going to do. Vince was staring and I had to fight not to cover myself with my hands. But then I noticed the sizable bulge in his own pants.

He noticed my smirk and followed my gaze. Blushing he started to turn away, but then thought better of it, leaving him awkwardly facing the sink.

I giggled in perverse triumph, reverting as I seemed to do too often in his presence to a twelve year old mentality. "You know, it's even worse in profile." I was being a dick because I was hurt and embarrassed, and because I was angry at him for a dozen childish reasons, none of which were actually his fault. Usually I would expect Vince to see right through me, but he seemed genuinely confused himself. For the first time since I had known him he full out blushed.

"Yeah, so... I'll get some ice." He muttered on his way out the bathroom door.

While he was gone I sat down on the edge of the tub and took a few deep breaths. From the next room I could hear him wrestle with the ice cube trays.

For a distraction I decided to check my voicemail messages from Vince. They started out calmly enough, followed by a reasonable level of alarm, but by the last one... By the time Vince returned with a dish towel full of ice cubes I think my mouth was hanging open.

Vince saw me and snatched the phone from my hand. "You told me you deleted them."

Not technically, but that wasn't the point. "You were worried." I pointed out.

"Yeah, I was."

"Reallyworried." That was an understatement.

He knelt next to me and pressed the ice pack a little too roughly to my thigh. I gasped at the shock of cold and pain. "Yeah, well, I guess I thought a lot more of our friendship than you did," he replied curtly.

Ouch. I sighed, the last bit of fight leaving me. "That's not true. You're the best friend I've had in a very long time. But I haven't been a very good friend to you. Kissing you. Teasing you. Coming up with that dumbass fuck buddy idea. And now this. I would promise to quit fucking with you, but each time I say that I just end up doing something even worse. And now I'm just being a bastard because you're fucking killing me here and you don't seem to realize it..."

I drifted off because Vince had stopped listening to me, instead staring at the cell phone in his hand with an unreadable frown.

"Vince?" I waved my hand in front of his face.

He blinked and then looked at me. He had clearly just figured something out because, for the first time since my inadvertent admission, there was absolutely no confusion in his expression. In fact, I'm not sure I had ever seen him look more certain.

I gulped.

To this day I can't say which one of use started it, but in a moment the space between us vanished and our lips met. It wasn't passionate or frantic like the first two times we kissed. The kiss was soft and brief, but it was what I needed. My heart still pounded but my mind was clear. I had known for weeks that I couldn't get more involved with Vince than necessary. And I had just realized that this was necessary.

We pulled apart.

"You too, huh?" I asked.

Vince gave a shaky laugh. "Apparently. So," he added, "what do we do now?"