Nirvana Ch. 07

[All characters described in sexual acts are over 18.

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***

New York, New York. Rows of buildings lined like domino pieces around the plangent Grand Central, endless lines of vacant cars and people. People with their faces buried in luminous screens at night, or marching late to work in the morning all out of coffee. It was true what people said: in New York, you can find anything you're looking for. What Owen found as he stepped off the crowded train, with Noel by his side — both taking in a lungful of the city's musk, one starry eyed, the other jaded — in fast food shops and brand-name liquor stores, within the granules of gravel and strips of dark sky, was every single beautiful memory that he had tainted.

Noel squeezed his arm and asked if he was okay, Owen shook his head not to say no, but more in disbelief and dejection. Just days ago, he was limping and shuffling through those streets, leaning on buildings and fences, absent-minded, heavy-hearted, and his blood loaded with toxins. Just days ago, he almost transgressed. He didn't have the courage to tell Noel –he barely had the courage to admit it to himself.

When they got to the elevator, Noel waited until the door slid closed, and held Owen in his arms. He wouldn't dare touch him affectionately in public, despite everybody cocooning in their own antisocial bubble, he didn't wish to distress him any more than he already was. In the secluded confines of the elevator, he took his chance and held him closely, tightly, with his hand on the back of his head, pressing him to his chest, containing the sadness and worries that were far too familiar. And Owen, as soon as he was safe in Noel's embrace, he hugged him right back. A yelp broke out of his throat, and he pulled on the shoulder of his shirt. Noel shushed him and pet his hair, "you're okay," he kept saying. The elevator door opened and they broke away from each other, but their fingers were still surreptitiously laced together.

When they were alone again, Noel stroked his face and the side of his neck. "You're okay," he repeated, and Owen nodded, signifying he had heard him but didn't necessarily agree.

"Everywhere I go, I'm being haunted, I swear."

"We came all the way here so don't wuss out now, yeah?"

Owen smiled. "I won't." He realised, when they reached the door to his parents' condo, that he had more to worry about. Although he had informed them of Noel accompanying him, he only introduced him as a friend that wanted to visit New York, having no worries about being found out until they were all there. His little sister, with her blue skirt and red top and cape, she ran head first into his ribs making him grunt, and Noel showed excessive concern, rubbing his chest affectionately where he knew underneath all the clothes there was a bruise. He did so out of good will, oblivious to where they were and for a second forgetting Owen had kept his orientation a secret.

After the meet and greet and light catching up with his father –who was but an older and larger spitting image of him– and his step mother, he finally freed himself from little Madeline's frail arms and took Noel to the kitchen to set the dinner table.

Owen looked around, and then whispered, "Do you think they know?"

"Not if you stop staring at me like you want to eat me alive, they won't."

"I don't! Oh god, do I? I think Stacey knows. She saw me looking at you."

"Relax, baby." he laughed, "you're being paranoid. Even If they knew, what's gonna happen?"

"Well I don't know, but I'd rather not find out!" he struggled to open the cutlery drawer and shouted, "god dammit!"

"You shouldn't say that." Madeline strolled in and said, nonchalantly. She stood on her tip toes, checking different pots and poking full plates.

"Sorry, Princess."

"Wonder Woman!" She waved her cape impatiently. "You can't call me that unless you're Amazonian. What's paranoid?"

Owen glared at Noel, the expression on his face saying 'your fault, deal with this'.

"It's when someone who worries too much,"

"Like Owen?"

Owen rolled his eyes. Noel laughed, "Yes, like Owen."

"Excuse me!"

"When they see something that's not really there."

"Ghosts?"

Owen laughed, "Just let it go."

"Not exactly. Well, more like, uh, false perception."

She stared in confusion for a good minute, then turned around and ran out. "Daddy! What's paranoid?"

"Maddie! Wait!" He turned back to Noel in shock, "Holy shit, he's gonna find out."

"Relax, Princess."

"Fucking shoot me." he said, making sure to keep his voice down. Noel laughed and patted him on the back.

At the dinner table, Owen held his utensils with shaking hands. His eyes scanning his father and step mother's expressions, and Noel leaned over to him, when they weren't looking, and said "you're being too obvious." Madeline declared that she didn't want to eat her meatballs, as she had "turned vegan like Noel."

"If you're vegan," Ronald Matthews said, "then you don't get cheesecake for dessert."

She growled and lowered her eyes back to her plate and ate begrudgingly. Owen smirked at Noel and whispered "look what you've done." Noel smiled back and mouthed "sorry," and they had a look that lingered as they smiled at each other. When Owen looked away, his eyes met his dad's and sparks shot through him.

"So how long?"

Owen dropped his fork.

Noel cleared his throat, and asked, "Sir?"

"This vegan thing."

"Five years," he said without hesitation, "haven't consumed any animal products since I turned nineteen."

"Any particular reason? Other than ill-developed taste buds, of course."

"Dad!"

"Ronald!"

Noel only smiled. "I can't bring myself to harm any living thing. Besides, farming isn't making global warming any better."

"So you're saving the planet?" He was Owen, alright, Noel thought, except more vocal and grey at the temples.

"Dad..."

Noel had many retorts, but he chose to smile and be polite. There was nothing to be said about veganism –joke or otherwise– that he hadn't already heard. He'd heard it all far too often that responding became a chore and, in that case, possibly rude.

After dinner, Stacey was off to work, Owen and Madeline played retro games until Ronald had to carry her to bed, and Noel went to Owen's room to rest, leaving the latter alone to reminisce.

In one of the kitchen cupboards, all the way up and out of his reach, was a coffee mug with a picture of Jupiter on it. It was the remaining one of a set of nine, because he broke the rest of them back when his mother was still alive. He remembered, the last two that he broke, he broke on purpose. It was the only thing his four-year-old self could do to get her attention, but she looked at him with vacant eyes and complexion as sallow as the desert and walked past him like nothing had happened. That mug, along with a few photographs, were the only physical aspect of whatever memory he had of his mother. He was too scared to touch it, he could only stand there and stare at it in its safe place where his father had purposefully kept it. He heard him walk up behind him, and felt a hand on his shoulder and him saying, "I miss her, too."

They collected all the dirty dishes and stood at the sink, working on autopilot, Ronald washing and Owen drying, the same way they did ever since Owen needed a step ladder to reach. Time seemed to not have changed anything at all.

"How've you been, Oz? Staying off the bottle?"

"Yep." It sounded convincing enough, and it was the truth, but Owen couldn't help feeling like a liar. "What about you?"

"Not a drop."

"Um." Silence was heavy. Owen searched his brain for a number of topics to talk about, divert the conversation somewhere safe but there was nothing. Blank. Except, maybe...

"Tell me," Ronald said, "That Noel. Is he nice to you?"

He dropped a plate. Not because the question came as a shock and caused him to lose his grip; the plate was just slippery. But it had to be that plate at that exact time just to get his heart pounding like he'd seen a million ghosts.

"Oh, god! Oh, Jesus!" He tried to catch the broken pieces in the sink with his bare hands and ended up cutting himself. More pieces fell and there were shards everywhere. He was a wreck.

"Leave it! Leave it, Owen, god dammit! Come here." He took his rubber gloves off and tossed them in the sink, and with the same passion he took Owen in a hug –a tight, masculine hug that only lasted two seconds and ended with a rough pat on his back, but it was enough to convey how he felt. There was no way he would reject or stop loving his son based on his taste in partners. It would be like rejecting him for liking Oasis –it just didn't make sense.

"I'll always be proud of you, you know that?"

"Mhm."

--

Noel had planned to get some shut-eye for the next day's journey, but he only managed to stay in bed for ten minutes without sleep. Owen's room was akin to a hotel room that's been trashed by the worst kind of rebellious rockers. There were clothes everywhere, lopsided posters of mismatching colours hung on the walls, and almost every drawer was half opened. There were frayed boxes full of everything imaginable from threads and needles to old and broken laptops. A dusty unplugged keyboard stood in the middle of the room close to the bed. On one of the walls, there were two shelves. The top one had unsorted CDs on it, and the bottom had all kinds of toys, trophies, action figures and picture frames. He thought he'd fix some of that madness by sorting the CDs in alphabetical order.

--

"Tell me about him."

Owen was having an out of body experience. He did not imagine, in a million years, that he'd be having a heart-to-heart conversation with his father about his boyfriend like it was the most normal thing to do. Boyfriend, he thought. Was he? He didn't know what to tell his father in that regard –he couldn't even if he wanted to, it was a grey area that grew larger every day.

"What do you wanna know?" he sighed, "he's an artist."

"He's a bartender," Ronald interrupted slyly, "he's vegan. Too old to be dating my kid."

"He's twenty three, dad. I'll be twenty soon. And he's a world traveller! He's been to more countries than I know."

"On a bartender's budget?"

Owen shrugged, "Says he saves up for a ticket and makes money while abroad."

"Escorting?"

"Man, what the f-" he looked around, and lowered his voice, "What the fuck. No!"

"No need for the language, I'm just kidding. How long have you two..."

Not long enough to be certain, and Owen never thought about it before but the plausibility was astounding. Noel could be meretricious, and there was nothing that would stop him –no moral compass, no society rules. It made him feel nauseous, but he kept it at bay.

"A while, okay? I really like the guy so can you be supportive, please?"

"Sure, I have been supportive when you dated girls, and I knew damn well you ogled men in magazines. This should be a walk in the park."

How it was so obvious to everyone except himself, he didn't know.

--

Owen lunged in long strides to where Noel was standing in his room, and took him in a tight hug, exhaling loudly and frantically, with a wide smile plastered on his face. "I told him," he took his face in his hands and kissed him, "I'm out. Oh god, this is..." He was lost for words, and he felt his voice shaking so he let go of him and paced around. He rubbed his flushed face and ruffled his hair, he pushed aside some clothes and sheets on his bed, and sat with his face in his hands. Noel studied him with a faint smile, waiting until he composed himself, and then joined him.

"I'm sorry I'm getting emotional," he sighed, his smile turning into laughter, "I'm being an idiot, I'm sorry."

"Never apologise for how you feel." He stroked his back, "You may apologise for the state of your room, though."

Owen laughed.

"And your hair."

They both laughed. Owen ruffled his hair even more, "Please. I'm not that gay yet."

"How do you feel? Weight lifted off your shoulders? Were there tears involved?"

"Hell yes, and hell no! You know, apart from," he gestured at himself, "this, my coming out has been underwhelming. I hear stories about it being a big reveal or a highlight or something but with Dave and Carl and Dad, they just said OK you're gay, moving on now." Noel smiled and kissed his forehead, and then got up to where he was going through his belongings, "Most of the time, the ones closest to you already know."

"Hell yes. I'm not saying I wanted party poppers or fucking glitter bombs but I've been carrying this for a long time, I deserve to make a scene."

"You made a scene when you came out to me. Who's Eoghan?"

"I did no... Who?" Noel pronounced it as E-O-GAN, something Owen hadn't heard in years. "Where did you find that?" Noel handed him a Polaroid photo that he took out of a frame, a photo of a young brunette pressing her cheek to that of a toddler, both wrapped in sweaters and scarves, smiling so much that their eyes closed. On the back of the photograph, in red was written 'Baby Eoghan, never stop smiling. x Love, Mum'.

"That's my name. Gaelic spelling." He pointed at the woman, "My mother, she was Irish. My name was spelled like this until middle school, but everyone was calling me E-O-GAN, so Dad had it changed to boring American spelling." He gave it back, and Noel put it in its frame and back on the shelf.

"I'm sorry. About your mother, I mean."

Owen waved him off, "It's okay. I was five when she passed. Can't say I remember much." He paused, "You never told me about your family."

"Not much to tell." He took out CDs from the rack, checking every single one that he had checked before, giving himself something to do, "They're in Tennessee. I don't go there often."

Owen had his back against the wall and his arms crossed, not challenging but protective. He could see that talking about his family made Noel uncomfortable, and he thought if he was already uncomfortable he may as well bring up the other topic that Noel disliked the most. It was the day of reckoning. Everything was out in the open. Everything has been resolved except the true nature of their relationship.

"Noel."

"Hmm?" He continued going through Owen's things. Owen was quiet. He wanted his full attention, eye contact and all, so Noel put down an action figure and looked his way, "What's up, Princess?"

"I meant what I said the other day. I really do like you."

"I know."

He took a deep breath, bracing himself with his arms and the safety of his room. "I know there's a lot at stake here, but I must ask. Do you like me?"

"'Course I do."

"No, I mean..."

"I know what you mean." He closed the distance between then and stood at an arm's length, trying the best he could not to appear confrontational, "let me tell you one thing before this gets any deeper: I don't do relationships. Not long term, not short term. And I don't play around with boys who do. I may have broken some rules for you, but..."

"For a free spirit, you have way too many rules."

"The rules aren't for me! Let me tell you this again, loud and clear," he grabbed both of his shoulders, "we are not in a relationship."

If words could kill.

If it weren't for Noel holding his body against the wall, he'd be on the floor. Words fired through his defences and hit him where it hurt. Bull's-eye. What made matters worse was that he had to remain calm. He couldn't let Noel notice how bad he had it, how much he felt for him, and how torn up inside he was. He put on a sarcastic tone and forced a smile.

"Ouch."

"What we have," Noel continued with a softened expression, "what any two people anywhere have, is far too great to be narrowed down by one of society's labels. I know you don't believe that, and I know you like to play by society's rules so I'm giving you the choice now, we can continue this, we can just be friends, or I'll walk out of your life and never bother you again."

Owen grabbed his head and kissed him. It was ferocious, desperate, and rushed, with his fingers in his hair pulling him down and keeping him in place. The warmth of his lips was a direct reflection of the fire in his core and every ounce of energy in his cells telling him that was the only answer, before the wailing of good sense, before his conscience awakened, before he could see how pathetic he was.

It might have been the wrong move, but the taste of Noel freed him from all shackles of guilt. He was no longer slipping through his fingers because he had him right there, and not in the figurative sense. He was pulling and yanking at his hair, his clothes, his lips, and Noel, he wasn't holding back. He reciprocated with insatiable need, exceeding Owen's heated desperation. He sighed and whispered, "good choice," against his lips before his tongue demanded entry.

After doing a few laps inside Owen's mouth, he ventured outside, kissed his chin and along his jaw bone until he reached his ear. He tugged at his necklace and smeared kisses along his neck. Owen crooned and bent his head to the side, and Noel took a fold of skin between his teeth.

"No!" Owen jerked his head away, causing the chain to dig deeper.

"What, too hard?"

"No, don't mark me. It will be hard to explain to my family tomorrow."

"Fine," he let go of his necklace, "I'll do it somewhere they won't see." He kissed his neck, and pulled his shirt up over his shoulders, kissing up his abdomen to the bruise on his ribs. "Does this still hurt?"

Owen sighed, "Only if you headbutt me." He held his shirt up with one hand, and the back of Noel's head with the other, and watched him taste every inch of his body with hungry laps and kisses until he reached the perfectly toned muscle of his chest and sunk his teeth in it.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Noel," he gasped and arched his body into his, and Noel took hold of his hips to pull him further in. Owen gripped and tugged on the golden waves of his hair as he gnawed at his flesh, grazing and worrying and nibbling, leaving tracks and impressions. Neither of them knew where this was leading, nor did they want it to stop any time soon. Owen found a way to rub his swollen erection against Noel's torso through many layers of clothing but it was more than enough to send him over the edge, just on the verge of an orgasm. He only wished Noel's hot mouth was on his cock. He knew that, the instant Noel's lips so much as come in contact with his cock, he would lose it. Noel flicked one nipple with the tip of his tongue, and Owen had to bite his lips to stop from screaming.

"How about," Noel straightened up and took his lips, "how about we sully your childhood bed?" He took his lips again more sensuously. By the time he broke away, they were both struggling to breathe.

"It is quite sacred," he chuckled, "I've never had sex in it before."

"First time for everything." Noel pressed their cocks together for emphasis, letting him feel his hardness in full effect, and it caused Owen to throw his head back and moan lightly. He dipped his fingers in his pocket, brought out a foil packet, and transferred it into Noel's palm.

Noel's eyes widened.

"Okay," Owen nodded, "If they did actually leave my room the way it was, like they said..." He opened a drawer on his nightstand, and there it was, just like he left it, a bottle of lube that he possessed for obvious reasons. It wasn't Noel's favourite choice of lube, but it would have to do. Owen regarded him with a raunchy look, and watched as the surprise on his face turn into pure lust.