Sobriety V
Title: Sobriety
Author: Scotianova
Beta-fairy: Carol38
Disclaimer: I don't own them and writing about them is just for fun.
Genre/Moods: Insecurity, hurt, illumination leading to COMFORT :)
Pairing: Of course this journey is about Luke and Reid, however Gideon Masterson,
Reid’s assistant, and some other characters are joining them.
Warning: Noah is there - but less narrow-minded as I usually picture him.
Rating: sexual contents in some chapters
Summary: “I thought I was in control of everything. Structure, strategy, methodology meant almost everything to me; I had figured out my whole life - my professional and my personal. Then I met fate - face to face - I met it several times. But only the last encounter made me
understand: There is an elemental force out there. Call it fate, call it God, call it coincidence - whatever name you put on it doesn’t matter,
but it’s there and you are powerless to fight it. You are supposed to go with it.”
(Reid S. Oliver, MD, professor of neurology at Harvard Medical School)
AN It's been a while but I want to finish the story first before starting a new one so here are chapter 5 and 6
previous chapter: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/48186.html
Chapter 5 - how does Luke deal with being rejected by Reid?
149 days later
It doesn’t matter that you denied it …it was a verdict; you imposed a ban on me. You banned me from your life and trying to think under your hat I get your point, or at least I want to believe I do. You are disappointed and hurt. And since it didn’t work out the way you secretly - yes secretly, because you would never admit it, not even to yourself -wished you pulled the plug. It figures! Refusing to give us another try, I even get that too, if I try to detach and watch all this from a distant level. BUT distancing and I are mutually exclusive. I am sure you do know this by now.
As for you, there is something exhaustingly ultimate about you, such as you insisting that you will never be able to operate again! Who said this? Did you get a heavenly revelation or what? You know what? Despite your ongoing declarations that you accept fate and don’t want to fight it anymore, because it was stupid to rise up against overwhelming powers, I know you’re wrong about that. You are a born fighter, you beat death countless times in the operating room, you beat your own death, and even if you don’t want to accept it: you want to live. I know that. You’re simply too obnoxious to not fight and not live as long as you can…but you have to overcome that dark hole you’re at a risk to fall into every once in a while. It paralyzes you. And that’s a shame. And you know another thing? This whole calm-sober-Zen-like attitude - it’s only an act, that’s not you. I don’t know you too well but I know you well enough to realize there is still a volcano sleeping under your well composed surface.
I went off your office 149 days ago with my tail between my legs and I wasn’t sure if it would come back to life anytime soon. But humans are hardwired and after three months I have a clue how to move further. Because, you know Professor Oliver, I am not willed to accept your verdict! Back then I was unprepared - stupid mistake, facing you of all people in an emotionally raw and confused state. I won’t repeat this fateful lapse. I know it was almost unforgivably stupid since I’d made the biggest mistake in telling you we don’t owe each other anything. The second mistake was behaving like an idiot, storming into your office, mentally unprepared, the moment you were back.
Hopefully I’ve learned my lesson now and hopefully it’s not too late. But I wouldn’t be me if I’d take your repulsion for the final answer.
I think not contacting you while you were on your reflecting - trip was another stupid step because my staying silent didn’t have the effect I’d aimed for. You didn’t see it as my attempt to give you the space you requested and surely needed, you took it as indifference, maybe even coldness. I shouldn’t have waited the whole time we were apart. So you logically had the impression: Out of sight out of mind.
But we both know I’m rarely cold and when it comes to you I am not cold at all.
I’ve read in a women’s magazine while I was sitting in my dentist’s waiting room
- I see you rolling your eyes…don’t worry I see the irony myself- anyway I read this article where some self-proclaimed life advisor listed strategies regarding “How to get your ex back?”
And the author advised contacting “the man concerned” (how appropriate!) not before three months had passed since the breakup. And she said the best way to make contact was by writing, because the addressee needed to think he had a choice - The choice to read it or not. To discard the mail - or to keep it as long as it takes him to feel ready.
“What you need is patience. You must be careful, patient and don’t blame him and if there is even a small dose of love left, you’ll win him back!”
I try to be patient, I really try, I have even stretched the time-span - not only because I want to be patient but because I am scared, so scared that you might throw me out again. You won’t throw me out violently but your determined, unmistakable way of saying: “It’s better…” hurt more than grabbing me and literally shoving me out of your office.
So I am not sure if I’ll win you back, not sure if there is even a small dose of love for me left in you at all.
Not sure, not sure at all.
A dose of love - You might call me hazardous to mention love at all, but after analyzing my own feelings I have a clue about yours too: if you weren’t in love with me my rejection wouldn’t have hurt you (and don’t deny you’re hurt! It was written in your eyes, because sometimes you aren’t fast enough to hide them), and I could read it in your posture - screaming self-defense-mechanism. AND you would have hugged me farewell. So yes, I believe you are in love with me. And you admitted that it was meaningful - whatever it was between the two of us. Maybe we should defer judging the tense - for me it’s becoming more meaningful every day and for you? You are surely working on getting over it. And who could blame you for that? BUT the way you are still attached to Milo proves to me that you aren’t the one to let things go easily. There is no day you don’t miss him painfully. So ironically enough you are still clinging to Milo as if he was still alive and that gives me hope. Once you’re attached to a person you can hardly let go of them.
You know, since that fatal day I have done nothing but think about you and the time we spent together, I’ve scrutinized every second, movement, niche. We match in the physical department in a way that craves comparison. I see now being intimate in the most intimate way and feeling hilariously comfortable with the person you’re physically close with only works when there is more than said physical connection.
So my ultimate diagnosis: I was blind and maybe a little deaf and you were an emotional coward. You should have told me how you felt. But who if not you could heal blindness and temporal deafness by consulting an otologist and who if not me of all people could teach you impertinence and audacity?
Reid you and me - I see us healing each other. Look we weren’t together for a long time and yet I’ve learned so much from you. You showed me how to be comfortable with myself and my body. And yours. There was a phase where I suspected myself to be addicted to your body. And given the severe symptoms of withdrawal I am increasingly suffering from, yes, I might be addicted to you but I don’t want to become clean.
“So beautiful. So beautiful that it hurts.”
You didn’t notice that I was awake while you whispered into the dark of your bedroom while nearly unperceptively caressing my chest. I sighed as if having a dream because I’d stopped breathing but didn’t want you to realize I’d heard you.
Reid.
I can’t let this go, I can’t let you go. I just can’t.
I’ve tasted the proverbial forbidden fruit*, and now that I’m familiar with it, I need it, of course I could get from somebody else, but why settle for second quality? Why settle with anyone who isn’t you? Because I was never surer than in this very moment, that’s not only about physical matching, this is about you and me, just you and me.
…the forbidden fruit*, well you’re not God to chase me out of paradise…and honestly the very fruit being you might have been forbidden since I wasn’t clear about a lot of things and my ambiguity and indecisiveness eventually hurt you. And calling you a forbidden fruit implies you might be something evil. But you’re not and I am not ambiguous and indecisive anymore. I know exactly what I want, who I want and I am not going to let anyone steal you from me, not even you yourself.
Professor Oliver you and me are so not over, we’ve just started. But since you’re a scared boy behind your weird mask of sobriety it’s good you don’t know about you being the white queen and me being the black knight in this game.
… Only it’s not a game it’s deadly serious because I love you …there I said it.
Remembering the circumstances we met I am still speechless and proud regarding my own audacity, and I don’t regret it. I’ve never regretted meeting you.
“I know I am a pain in the ass…but I have to try…”
You smirked and your answer simply hit me:
“Well sometimes a pain in the ass can be very delightful.”
I hadn’t expected this; I had expected you’d reprimand me like your Cerberus watching your office.
Maybe this was the moment the crazy idea was planted into my head, or maybe it was planted in my lower parts and then it spread from there to my stomach getting bigger and bigger infiltrating my veins and settled in my head and never left it. Well I knew you were gay before I contacted you.
Being Lucinda’s grandson and Damien’s son I had done my homework before approaching you and you never hid being gay anyway.
Lucinda taught me to never approach a challenge without being thoroughly and thoughtfully prepared. But this time I wanted to approach ‘my case’ in my way, meaning I wanted to approach it personally. Because I pride myself that I approach things personally. Of course I had looked you up on the internet, who wouldn’t? Reid S. Oliver, MD, professor. Teaching at Harvard for a little more than a year but yet you were the one students praised most. They called you extremely competent and professional and a girl posted on FB you had a dry sense of humor. I liked that.
I had seen some photos and even a clip on YT where you were interviewed about new research-results on ‘Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, your field of research. So I wasn’t stunned when I finally stood face to face with you. I knew you looked handsome and your being gay was just the icing on the cake. I remember - as if it were yesterday - me chuckling when I read an article in ‘The advocate’ quoting you:
“I have known that I was gay since I was nine years old and I can assure you that in all that time I have never once hidden, apologized or been ashamed of whom I am…”
I instantly believed what you were saying. You didn’t seem to be ashamed of anything. What would I have given if a lot more men in a position like yours would be so open and casual with their sexuality?
As I said I actually felt adequately prepared and yet I wasn’t, because neither the photos neither the clip on YT did you justice. Not in the slightest. I am not sure anymore whom I was expecting. But I definitely didn’t expect YOU.
Well before we talked face to face I had studied you for a whole week - every morning in the theatre - according to my ‘personal approach’. The first time I sat there in the fourth row, I watched your students, excitedly waiting for you. I could tell you were something else before we met in person. Those young guys obviously admired you, and I could see why after the first ten minutes you were explaining some difficult cases. As far as I could judge it, you were always perfectly prepared, showed impressive PowerPoint slides, precise descriptions mixed with stories from your former time as a neurosurgeon. And there was no question you couldn’t answer whether it was related to neurology, neurosurgery or some other medical field else. What impressed me most was your calmness, your sovereignty. I remember that young hot male student calling neurosurgery a butcher’s work. You only smirked at him and answered: “Well, considering both, a slaughter and a surgeon use the same instrumentarium, such as very sharp knives to cut into flesh, you aren’t wrong - but if you look at the outcome you might detect a small but vital difference - and if not …please consider a different medical field. You know, there is no unwritten law that every student attending med school has to become a surgeon or even a neurosurgeon.”
You didn’t join the audience’s outburst but simply continued your lecture. You answered every question patiently, yet I noticed you refused to answer the kind of students who lingered at the door or tried to catch your attention after the lecture. “Keep it in mind and ask me next time. See you!” And then you were gone.
You were gorgeous! You had this unique upright posture that impressed me then and still does.
Learning that you left high school at 16, enrolled in premed school two month later, finished med school at 22 and internship and residency at the incredible age of 29 didn’t surprise me but still made me speechless. At an age ordinary people would finish residency in neurosurgery you had almost practiced neurosurgery for several years. You were an actual star in the Olympus of neurosurgery. Then you were involved in a severe car accident and your life and career almost ended.
You survived but it took you months to recover although you had the best doctors and therapists on your side. Anyway you didn’t return to your job but disappeared from the face of earth for over a year.
You returned to Harvard became the tenured professor for neurology at an amazingly young age. Your lectures became famous in no time and you became a legend again, only in another field. A lot of information I found on social networks, I logged in with a fake name to find out if there were any rumors spreading amongst your students. And I was lucky. A gay-friendly board gushed over you having a secret love affair with your personal assistant, Gideon Masterson, a girl drooled over you two together being incredibly cute, the “huge giant” and you, the “small cookie”… and there was a student complaining having been thrown out of her job at Carlo’s by the chief in person, because she had shot a photo you sitting at your favorite table, reading and enjoying your dinner and she had posted it on FB. At least I knew then you had dinner at Carlo’s every day of the week. Obviously you loved Italian food, “simple but fine Italian cucina”, just as Carlo Manzoni’s trattoria promises its customers. And after being there with you so many times I see your point. Later you told me you didn’t know about Carlo’s draconian action. “I don’t care if some misguided girl posts a photo of me on…what?” And yes, you have no accounts - anywhere. There is your homepage at Harvard, and your personal email-address, which only few people know. That’s you. You don’t really care about other peoples’ opinions and you have an aura surrounding you that says: “Keep your distance and don’t bother me!”
So it wasn’t easy to get through to you, you know! Whether you were lecturing, in a meeting with whomever or out of town, at least your dragon of receptionist/assistant told me so. And even Lucinda’s connections weren’t able to get me your private number.
But at least - due to my own persistence - I ended up sitting in front of your office at Harvard medical school waiting for you.
I heard you before I saw you:
“Cerb, is there anything important? You know I have to get out of here in a minute!”
Your voice hit me instantly - that sexy baritone underlain with a bit of exhaustion and humor. Because who would call their assistant ‘Cerberus’?
“Yeah, I don’t know if it’s important, and honestly I doubt it, but there is this persistent kid waiting for you - you know the one who called once a second over the last decade!”
Gideon Masterson snarked - although he was surely well aware of me sitting just an arm’s length away listening to the conversation between him and his boss.
“What?”
“Yeah- I tried to keep him out of your hair - but he bluntly strolled in and refuses to go away!”
Gideon Masterson was unbelievable, first he stared me down with his piercing eyes and then he talked about me as if I wasn’t there.
Then you turned and looked at me. You stood there with your brows almost reaching your hairline, scrutinized me only seconds and then you smiled, only a little bit, but yes - in those bluest of all blue eyes of yours there was a hint of a smile.
“And what’s the name of this insistent young man and what does he want from me?”
Oh my God, I almost died.
“Professor Dr. Oliver - I deeply apologize for intruding your office - (it was almost impossible to ignore Gideon’s snort: “Yeah, right…As if…”) I am Luke Snyder and I am here on behalf of my boyfriend. He is blind and nobody has the guts to operate on him.”
“Told you, he’s incredibly persistent - I have already told him a hundred times that you don’t perform surgeries anymore!” Cerberus the second butted in again.
“Well, Mr. Masterson is right, Mr. Snyder, I don’t operate anymore - so I don’t know how I could help you. Sorry for you wasting your time coming here.”
“No please, I know, I know that you don’t operate on patients anymore, but would you please hear me out for a few seconds?”
Then you did this thing with your tongue sticking it into your cheek, reflecting the split of a second before you sighed and waved me into your office.
“It’s really not a good time today to track me down, Mr. Snyder, I have to be at the airport in two and a half hours to fly to New York and I haven’t even packed a single sock …”
“Well, I could help you with that - my grandmother’s pilot would love to fly you everywhere and then…”
Cerb almost chocked and I bet he could have strangled me in this very moment. But I ignored him; I simply ignored the 6 feet tall and outrageously good looking athletic guy. What kind of assistant was he anyway? Did you need a bodyguard or a co-worker?
“And then what?”
“Then we could discuss Noah’s case…”
“Noah ‘Who’?”
“Noah Mayer, he is my boyfriend … the one I am here for”
You grinned with that grin that makes your lips twitching almost imperceptibly:
“…hmm the ONE you’re here for - are there any others?”
“No, no…sorry I didn’t express myself well…” - with that I felt redness coloring my face 10 fields of red poppies would go green with envy.
“I was only kidding, Mr. Synder!”
Now you smiled. I hadn’t expected it and it was breathtaking.
You definitely smiled and I was lost.
I wasn’t only lost, I was fucked, because I was committed to Noah and I consider loyalty an important trait.
Many people had told me before that MY smile was the cutest ever seen and it would light up rooms and get me anything I wanted.
Well in that very moment I knew they’d never seen your smile.
Your smile, your eyes, your mouth.
You taught me an unknown language, I imagined it existed but never experienced it before we met.
Body talk got a new meaning since we talked that way, with our lips staying silent, allowed only to produce soft smacking sounds, our hands concentrated on foreign territories that became so familiar, our skins that melted inseparably so that I fantasized some times to have your scars on my body after you lifted your slender you off me.
You introduced me to a world I’d dreamt of vividly but given up hope to find.
You lifted your blanket - figuratively and literally - and let me slip in, sneak under the cover and snuggle up to your warm enticing smelling skin. I nestled there close to you and felt calm, comfortable, safe and adventurous, ready to take off all at once.
There was this night, when I flew in unexpectedly wanting to surprise you. But you were so tired,
distracted and absent-minded that we had a quiet dinner and went to bed early. I could have tried to seduce you but it was obvious you weren’t into sex, so I grabbed a book and started to read after saying goodnight.
It wasn’t long before you were sound asleep. I covered your bare chest with the blanket and it was then that you shifted and turned towards me, placed your hand on my stomach and sighed. You sighed in your sleep and I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from crying. If I’d allowed myself to cry because your innocent gesture I would have had to admit, that I was already lost in you and keeping up my life in Oakdale with Noah was just denial. A stubborn denial, but yes, I closed my eyes to reality. The crazy thing? Only because of you, because I knew I could escape my internal jail at home once in a while, run to you and be just me - being with you I was me.
I can’t let all this be taken from me, I simply can’t. Not letting you go is self-defense. Nobody can blame me for that, right?
Well I blame myself for my thoughtlessness, but I can’t take back those two fucking sentences. I just can’t. Nobody can.
Spoken out loud for once they’re there, incorporeal but palpable.
They whisper like a perverted echo echoing the sounds it produces itself.
A few words have ruined something that was meaningful.
It took me a long time to understand why you’d you asked me the fatal question.
Everything went wrong again last time we spoke, I can’t even figure out why I haven’t told you about the changes in my life. But seeing you again after long months my mind went just blank. And I am not sure if that information about some epic changes would have changed anything? You’d made your decision. But I know you at least a bit, I know you are too smart to not revise a decision you’ve made once.
149 days - is this me showing enough patience?
Reid.
I can’t stay apart any longer.
It’s mentally and physically killing me.
*It was kccalgal who used the forbidden fruit metaphor in a comment to describe what happened to Luke getting involved with Reid, Thank you, dear, I think it's a perfect picture!
chapter 6: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/49596.html
Author: Scotianova
Beta-fairy: Carol38
Disclaimer: I don't own them and writing about them is just for fun.
Genre/Moods: Insecurity, hurt, illumination leading to COMFORT :)
Pairing: Of course this journey is about Luke and Reid, however Gideon Masterson,
Reid’s assistant, and some other characters are joining them.
Warning: Noah is there - but less narrow-minded as I usually picture him.
Rating: sexual contents in some chapters
Summary: “I thought I was in control of everything. Structure, strategy, methodology meant almost everything to me; I had figured out my whole life - my professional and my personal. Then I met fate - face to face - I met it several times. But only the last encounter made me
understand: There is an elemental force out there. Call it fate, call it God, call it coincidence - whatever name you put on it doesn’t matter,
but it’s there and you are powerless to fight it. You are supposed to go with it.”
(Reid S. Oliver, MD, professor of neurology at Harvard Medical School)
AN It's been a while but I want to finish the story first before starting a new one so here are chapter 5 and 6
previous chapter: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/48186.html
Chapter 5 - how does Luke deal with being rejected by Reid?
149 days later
It doesn’t matter that you denied it …it was a verdict; you imposed a ban on me. You banned me from your life and trying to think under your hat I get your point, or at least I want to believe I do. You are disappointed and hurt. And since it didn’t work out the way you secretly - yes secretly, because you would never admit it, not even to yourself -wished you pulled the plug. It figures! Refusing to give us another try, I even get that too, if I try to detach and watch all this from a distant level. BUT distancing and I are mutually exclusive. I am sure you do know this by now.
As for you, there is something exhaustingly ultimate about you, such as you insisting that you will never be able to operate again! Who said this? Did you get a heavenly revelation or what? You know what? Despite your ongoing declarations that you accept fate and don’t want to fight it anymore, because it was stupid to rise up against overwhelming powers, I know you’re wrong about that. You are a born fighter, you beat death countless times in the operating room, you beat your own death, and even if you don’t want to accept it: you want to live. I know that. You’re simply too obnoxious to not fight and not live as long as you can…but you have to overcome that dark hole you’re at a risk to fall into every once in a while. It paralyzes you. And that’s a shame. And you know another thing? This whole calm-sober-Zen-like attitude - it’s only an act, that’s not you. I don’t know you too well but I know you well enough to realize there is still a volcano sleeping under your well composed surface.
I went off your office 149 days ago with my tail between my legs and I wasn’t sure if it would come back to life anytime soon. But humans are hardwired and after three months I have a clue how to move further. Because, you know Professor Oliver, I am not willed to accept your verdict! Back then I was unprepared - stupid mistake, facing you of all people in an emotionally raw and confused state. I won’t repeat this fateful lapse. I know it was almost unforgivably stupid since I’d made the biggest mistake in telling you we don’t owe each other anything. The second mistake was behaving like an idiot, storming into your office, mentally unprepared, the moment you were back.
Hopefully I’ve learned my lesson now and hopefully it’s not too late. But I wouldn’t be me if I’d take your repulsion for the final answer.
I think not contacting you while you were on your reflecting - trip was another stupid step because my staying silent didn’t have the effect I’d aimed for. You didn’t see it as my attempt to give you the space you requested and surely needed, you took it as indifference, maybe even coldness. I shouldn’t have waited the whole time we were apart. So you logically had the impression: Out of sight out of mind.
But we both know I’m rarely cold and when it comes to you I am not cold at all.
I’ve read in a women’s magazine while I was sitting in my dentist’s waiting room
- I see you rolling your eyes…don’t worry I see the irony myself- anyway I read this article where some self-proclaimed life advisor listed strategies regarding “How to get your ex back?”
And the author advised contacting “the man concerned” (how appropriate!) not before three months had passed since the breakup. And she said the best way to make contact was by writing, because the addressee needed to think he had a choice - The choice to read it or not. To discard the mail - or to keep it as long as it takes him to feel ready.
“What you need is patience. You must be careful, patient and don’t blame him and if there is even a small dose of love left, you’ll win him back!”
I try to be patient, I really try, I have even stretched the time-span - not only because I want to be patient but because I am scared, so scared that you might throw me out again. You won’t throw me out violently but your determined, unmistakable way of saying: “It’s better…” hurt more than grabbing me and literally shoving me out of your office.
So I am not sure if I’ll win you back, not sure if there is even a small dose of love for me left in you at all.
Not sure, not sure at all.
A dose of love - You might call me hazardous to mention love at all, but after analyzing my own feelings I have a clue about yours too: if you weren’t in love with me my rejection wouldn’t have hurt you (and don’t deny you’re hurt! It was written in your eyes, because sometimes you aren’t fast enough to hide them), and I could read it in your posture - screaming self-defense-mechanism. AND you would have hugged me farewell. So yes, I believe you are in love with me. And you admitted that it was meaningful - whatever it was between the two of us. Maybe we should defer judging the tense - for me it’s becoming more meaningful every day and for you? You are surely working on getting over it. And who could blame you for that? BUT the way you are still attached to Milo proves to me that you aren’t the one to let things go easily. There is no day you don’t miss him painfully. So ironically enough you are still clinging to Milo as if he was still alive and that gives me hope. Once you’re attached to a person you can hardly let go of them.
You know, since that fatal day I have done nothing but think about you and the time we spent together, I’ve scrutinized every second, movement, niche. We match in the physical department in a way that craves comparison. I see now being intimate in the most intimate way and feeling hilariously comfortable with the person you’re physically close with only works when there is more than said physical connection.
So my ultimate diagnosis: I was blind and maybe a little deaf and you were an emotional coward. You should have told me how you felt. But who if not you could heal blindness and temporal deafness by consulting an otologist and who if not me of all people could teach you impertinence and audacity?
Reid you and me - I see us healing each other. Look we weren’t together for a long time and yet I’ve learned so much from you. You showed me how to be comfortable with myself and my body. And yours. There was a phase where I suspected myself to be addicted to your body. And given the severe symptoms of withdrawal I am increasingly suffering from, yes, I might be addicted to you but I don’t want to become clean.
“So beautiful. So beautiful that it hurts.”
You didn’t notice that I was awake while you whispered into the dark of your bedroom while nearly unperceptively caressing my chest. I sighed as if having a dream because I’d stopped breathing but didn’t want you to realize I’d heard you.
Reid.
I can’t let this go, I can’t let you go. I just can’t.
I’ve tasted the proverbial forbidden fruit*, and now that I’m familiar with it, I need it, of course I could get from somebody else, but why settle for second quality? Why settle with anyone who isn’t you? Because I was never surer than in this very moment, that’s not only about physical matching, this is about you and me, just you and me.
…the forbidden fruit*, well you’re not God to chase me out of paradise…and honestly the very fruit being you might have been forbidden since I wasn’t clear about a lot of things and my ambiguity and indecisiveness eventually hurt you. And calling you a forbidden fruit implies you might be something evil. But you’re not and I am not ambiguous and indecisive anymore. I know exactly what I want, who I want and I am not going to let anyone steal you from me, not even you yourself.
Professor Oliver you and me are so not over, we’ve just started. But since you’re a scared boy behind your weird mask of sobriety it’s good you don’t know about you being the white queen and me being the black knight in this game.
… Only it’s not a game it’s deadly serious because I love you …there I said it.
Remembering the circumstances we met I am still speechless and proud regarding my own audacity, and I don’t regret it. I’ve never regretted meeting you.
“I know I am a pain in the ass…but I have to try…”
You smirked and your answer simply hit me:
“Well sometimes a pain in the ass can be very delightful.”
I hadn’t expected this; I had expected you’d reprimand me like your Cerberus watching your office.
Maybe this was the moment the crazy idea was planted into my head, or maybe it was planted in my lower parts and then it spread from there to my stomach getting bigger and bigger infiltrating my veins and settled in my head and never left it. Well I knew you were gay before I contacted you.
Being Lucinda’s grandson and Damien’s son I had done my homework before approaching you and you never hid being gay anyway.
Lucinda taught me to never approach a challenge without being thoroughly and thoughtfully prepared. But this time I wanted to approach ‘my case’ in my way, meaning I wanted to approach it personally. Because I pride myself that I approach things personally. Of course I had looked you up on the internet, who wouldn’t? Reid S. Oliver, MD, professor. Teaching at Harvard for a little more than a year but yet you were the one students praised most. They called you extremely competent and professional and a girl posted on FB you had a dry sense of humor. I liked that.
I had seen some photos and even a clip on YT where you were interviewed about new research-results on ‘Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, your field of research. So I wasn’t stunned when I finally stood face to face with you. I knew you looked handsome and your being gay was just the icing on the cake. I remember - as if it were yesterday - me chuckling when I read an article in ‘The advocate’ quoting you:
“I have known that I was gay since I was nine years old and I can assure you that in all that time I have never once hidden, apologized or been ashamed of whom I am…”
I instantly believed what you were saying. You didn’t seem to be ashamed of anything. What would I have given if a lot more men in a position like yours would be so open and casual with their sexuality?
As I said I actually felt adequately prepared and yet I wasn’t, because neither the photos neither the clip on YT did you justice. Not in the slightest. I am not sure anymore whom I was expecting. But I definitely didn’t expect YOU.
Well before we talked face to face I had studied you for a whole week - every morning in the theatre - according to my ‘personal approach’. The first time I sat there in the fourth row, I watched your students, excitedly waiting for you. I could tell you were something else before we met in person. Those young guys obviously admired you, and I could see why after the first ten minutes you were explaining some difficult cases. As far as I could judge it, you were always perfectly prepared, showed impressive PowerPoint slides, precise descriptions mixed with stories from your former time as a neurosurgeon. And there was no question you couldn’t answer whether it was related to neurology, neurosurgery or some other medical field else. What impressed me most was your calmness, your sovereignty. I remember that young hot male student calling neurosurgery a butcher’s work. You only smirked at him and answered: “Well, considering both, a slaughter and a surgeon use the same instrumentarium, such as very sharp knives to cut into flesh, you aren’t wrong - but if you look at the outcome you might detect a small but vital difference - and if not …please consider a different medical field. You know, there is no unwritten law that every student attending med school has to become a surgeon or even a neurosurgeon.”
You didn’t join the audience’s outburst but simply continued your lecture. You answered every question patiently, yet I noticed you refused to answer the kind of students who lingered at the door or tried to catch your attention after the lecture. “Keep it in mind and ask me next time. See you!” And then you were gone.
You were gorgeous! You had this unique upright posture that impressed me then and still does.
Learning that you left high school at 16, enrolled in premed school two month later, finished med school at 22 and internship and residency at the incredible age of 29 didn’t surprise me but still made me speechless. At an age ordinary people would finish residency in neurosurgery you had almost practiced neurosurgery for several years. You were an actual star in the Olympus of neurosurgery. Then you were involved in a severe car accident and your life and career almost ended.
You survived but it took you months to recover although you had the best doctors and therapists on your side. Anyway you didn’t return to your job but disappeared from the face of earth for over a year.
You returned to Harvard became the tenured professor for neurology at an amazingly young age. Your lectures became famous in no time and you became a legend again, only in another field. A lot of information I found on social networks, I logged in with a fake name to find out if there were any rumors spreading amongst your students. And I was lucky. A gay-friendly board gushed over you having a secret love affair with your personal assistant, Gideon Masterson, a girl drooled over you two together being incredibly cute, the “huge giant” and you, the “small cookie”… and there was a student complaining having been thrown out of her job at Carlo’s by the chief in person, because she had shot a photo you sitting at your favorite table, reading and enjoying your dinner and she had posted it on FB. At least I knew then you had dinner at Carlo’s every day of the week. Obviously you loved Italian food, “simple but fine Italian cucina”, just as Carlo Manzoni’s trattoria promises its customers. And after being there with you so many times I see your point. Later you told me you didn’t know about Carlo’s draconian action. “I don’t care if some misguided girl posts a photo of me on…what?” And yes, you have no accounts - anywhere. There is your homepage at Harvard, and your personal email-address, which only few people know. That’s you. You don’t really care about other peoples’ opinions and you have an aura surrounding you that says: “Keep your distance and don’t bother me!”
So it wasn’t easy to get through to you, you know! Whether you were lecturing, in a meeting with whomever or out of town, at least your dragon of receptionist/assistant told me so. And even Lucinda’s connections weren’t able to get me your private number.
But at least - due to my own persistence - I ended up sitting in front of your office at Harvard medical school waiting for you.
I heard you before I saw you:
“Cerb, is there anything important? You know I have to get out of here in a minute!”
Your voice hit me instantly - that sexy baritone underlain with a bit of exhaustion and humor. Because who would call their assistant ‘Cerberus’?
“Yeah, I don’t know if it’s important, and honestly I doubt it, but there is this persistent kid waiting for you - you know the one who called once a second over the last decade!”
Gideon Masterson snarked - although he was surely well aware of me sitting just an arm’s length away listening to the conversation between him and his boss.
“What?”
“Yeah- I tried to keep him out of your hair - but he bluntly strolled in and refuses to go away!”
Gideon Masterson was unbelievable, first he stared me down with his piercing eyes and then he talked about me as if I wasn’t there.
Then you turned and looked at me. You stood there with your brows almost reaching your hairline, scrutinized me only seconds and then you smiled, only a little bit, but yes - in those bluest of all blue eyes of yours there was a hint of a smile.
“And what’s the name of this insistent young man and what does he want from me?”
Oh my God, I almost died.
“Professor Dr. Oliver - I deeply apologize for intruding your office - (it was almost impossible to ignore Gideon’s snort: “Yeah, right…As if…”) I am Luke Snyder and I am here on behalf of my boyfriend. He is blind and nobody has the guts to operate on him.”
“Told you, he’s incredibly persistent - I have already told him a hundred times that you don’t perform surgeries anymore!” Cerberus the second butted in again.
“Well, Mr. Masterson is right, Mr. Snyder, I don’t operate anymore - so I don’t know how I could help you. Sorry for you wasting your time coming here.”
“No please, I know, I know that you don’t operate on patients anymore, but would you please hear me out for a few seconds?”
Then you did this thing with your tongue sticking it into your cheek, reflecting the split of a second before you sighed and waved me into your office.
“It’s really not a good time today to track me down, Mr. Snyder, I have to be at the airport in two and a half hours to fly to New York and I haven’t even packed a single sock …”
“Well, I could help you with that - my grandmother’s pilot would love to fly you everywhere and then…”
Cerb almost chocked and I bet he could have strangled me in this very moment. But I ignored him; I simply ignored the 6 feet tall and outrageously good looking athletic guy. What kind of assistant was he anyway? Did you need a bodyguard or a co-worker?
“And then what?”
“Then we could discuss Noah’s case…”
“Noah ‘Who’?”
“Noah Mayer, he is my boyfriend … the one I am here for”
You grinned with that grin that makes your lips twitching almost imperceptibly:
“…hmm the ONE you’re here for - are there any others?”
“No, no…sorry I didn’t express myself well…” - with that I felt redness coloring my face 10 fields of red poppies would go green with envy.
“I was only kidding, Mr. Synder!”
Now you smiled. I hadn’t expected it and it was breathtaking.
You definitely smiled and I was lost.
I wasn’t only lost, I was fucked, because I was committed to Noah and I consider loyalty an important trait.
Many people had told me before that MY smile was the cutest ever seen and it would light up rooms and get me anything I wanted.
Well in that very moment I knew they’d never seen your smile.
Your smile, your eyes, your mouth.
You taught me an unknown language, I imagined it existed but never experienced it before we met.
Body talk got a new meaning since we talked that way, with our lips staying silent, allowed only to produce soft smacking sounds, our hands concentrated on foreign territories that became so familiar, our skins that melted inseparably so that I fantasized some times to have your scars on my body after you lifted your slender you off me.
You introduced me to a world I’d dreamt of vividly but given up hope to find.
You lifted your blanket - figuratively and literally - and let me slip in, sneak under the cover and snuggle up to your warm enticing smelling skin. I nestled there close to you and felt calm, comfortable, safe and adventurous, ready to take off all at once.
There was this night, when I flew in unexpectedly wanting to surprise you. But you were so tired,
distracted and absent-minded that we had a quiet dinner and went to bed early. I could have tried to seduce you but it was obvious you weren’t into sex, so I grabbed a book and started to read after saying goodnight.
It wasn’t long before you were sound asleep. I covered your bare chest with the blanket and it was then that you shifted and turned towards me, placed your hand on my stomach and sighed. You sighed in your sleep and I clenched my teeth to prevent myself from crying. If I’d allowed myself to cry because your innocent gesture I would have had to admit, that I was already lost in you and keeping up my life in Oakdale with Noah was just denial. A stubborn denial, but yes, I closed my eyes to reality. The crazy thing? Only because of you, because I knew I could escape my internal jail at home once in a while, run to you and be just me - being with you I was me.
I can’t let all this be taken from me, I simply can’t. Not letting you go is self-defense. Nobody can blame me for that, right?
Well I blame myself for my thoughtlessness, but I can’t take back those two fucking sentences. I just can’t. Nobody can.
Spoken out loud for once they’re there, incorporeal but palpable.
They whisper like a perverted echo echoing the sounds it produces itself.
A few words have ruined something that was meaningful.
It took me a long time to understand why you’d you asked me the fatal question.
Everything went wrong again last time we spoke, I can’t even figure out why I haven’t told you about the changes in my life. But seeing you again after long months my mind went just blank. And I am not sure if that information about some epic changes would have changed anything? You’d made your decision. But I know you at least a bit, I know you are too smart to not revise a decision you’ve made once.
149 days - is this me showing enough patience?
Reid.
I can’t stay apart any longer.
It’s mentally and physically killing me.
*It was kccalgal who used the forbidden fruit metaphor in a comment to describe what happened to Luke getting involved with Reid, Thank you, dear, I think it's a perfect picture!
chapter 6: http://scotianova.livejournal.com/49596.html