Fic Update: The Loose Ends Will Make Knots... (9/10 A)
Title: The Loose Ends Will Make Knots. (9/10)
Author: Starvinbohemian.
Rating: NC-17.
Pairings: Sonny/Brian, Sonny/Will.
Chapter Summary: Will.
Read either here or over at Ao3.
… The Loose Ends Will Make Knots
(Chapter 9)
It’s funny how the city can be buried under a layer of snow for the foreseeable future, and your dreams are full of sand and sun.
When you lick your lips, there are traces of sharp spices on your tongue, tastes you haven’t experienced in a long time. Familiar sounds, tastes, and sensations… In sleep, you’re home again.
Dubai is the home you never wanted and that never wanted you. Still, she caught you during a vulnerable, formative period; and now you’re inside each other, caught together in a coil made of both love and hate.
Right now, within the safety net of sleep, it’s love. Even amidst the misery and the fear, there were always silver linings in the cracks. It’s easier to access them from here than it is when you’re awake and it’s impossible to separate the personal from the political.
One of those silver linings was the warm, lulling breeze that sometimes blew through the sheer curtains of your bedroom window. Lying on your bed in your sweltering room, sweat slowly dripping down your face, you could close your eyes and feel the breeze like a cool caress over your body.
You can feel it now because you’re there again, lying on your old bed in the house you shared with your family the last time you all lived together. In reality, your brothers are scattered to the four winds. But if you commit to the illogic of the dreamscape, then you can believe that what you’re hearing is your brothers horsing around down in the street with the neighborhood boys.
The beauty of lucid dreaming lies in the simplicity of it: you want to be back there, and so you are. And everything… everyone is just as you left them.
As you wake up, slowly, reluctantly, Dubai’s heat lingers in your mouth, your head, your heart.
Strangely, though, the heat seems to remain even after the dream slips away. You realize why after a confused moment.
Brian is tucked up against your back, his legs entwined with yours. He’s wrapped snugly around you, his hold too tight to be comfortable. Last night, you thought there must be fire under his skin. This morning, his body is still warm enough to burn you.
(You wish you could carry the heat around with you as he does. After Dubai, after Texas, Salem is just too cold. You’re always too cold here.)
A rush of sudden homesickness grips your heart. It’s not even for Dubai. You ran from her the second you could as if there were fire under your feet and absolutely anywhere else was a cool pond. It’s elusive, what you’re missing, but you feel the loss of it all the same.
Just as you’re about to gently disentangle yourself, you freeze at the touch of Brian’s lips on the back of your neck. His hum, a sleepy, contented noise right there at the base of your neck, reverberates through your skin like a living echo.
You suck in a shaky breath.
You remember now, falling asleep like this, with Brian pressed up against you. Your bodies were limp, languid. You told yourself it was happening because the room was so cold and Brian was so warm. Even then, you were thinking of Dubai and how the nights never got as cold as the ones in Salem.
(You don’t know why you were expecting different, but it’s not the same, not at all. No matter how warm you are in Brian’s bed, Salem is not Dubai. You’re hundreds of miles away from the real thing.
And you’re never going back.)
The pressure of Brian’s mouth becomes more insistent, his tongue and teeth scraping along the nape of your neck.
It takes you a moment to find your voice. “Brian…” you say tentatively. Your intention is to put on the breaks. Not for the first time, Brian misunderstands you. Granted, you’re probably sending a mixed message by moaning at a sharp tug from his teeth on your ear.
You can tell from a light pull on your hair that he wants you to turn into a kiss. You don’t- your gaze remains stubbornly trained on where your fingers grip the sheets- but you’re shivering in his arms despite yourself.
It would be easier to stop if it didn’t feel so good. That’s kind of the problem. Brian makes you want. Probably because he wants so passionately. Sometimes, as it does now when his thigh slips between yours and there’s a whimper at the back of your throat, this thing with him feels inevitable, as if it was always going to happen between you one way or another.
You don’t really believe that, but it’s easy to believe with arousal clouding your head.
When he begins slowly and purposefully rocking against you, it takes everything in you not to grind down on his thigh or back against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, behind you and you want to give in, can already feel it happening, but…
Okay, you tell yourself, that’s enough.
With a frustrated sigh, you’re pushing at his grip and wiggling away until Brian takes a hint and releases you. The floor is cold under your feet, the air a cold contrast to the warmth of the bed sheets.
Yawning sleepily, Brian props himself up on an elbow. Blurry-eyed, he watches you escape the bed. “You all right?” He sounds as breathless as you feel.
You wish you could sound less flustered. “I’m fine,” you say, not looking at him. “I’m going to take a shower.”
The way he’s staring suggests that you didn’t exactly manage to come off as completely natural when you said that completely natural thing. Or maybe he’s staring because of the way you’re slowly backing away from him as if he’s a cobra you just found in your bed.
“Okay… Can I-?”
You close the bathroom door on his offer to join you, your heart racing in your chest as you lean back against the hard wood.
Your reflection in the bathroom mirror looks so ridiculously frazzled that you can’t help but feel embarrassed for yourself. Groaning into your hands, you let your head fall back with a hard thump against the door.
There was no good reason you had to run out of the room like a complete freak. It’s just that… if you’d stayed in the bed, then you and Brian would have had sex. Before that happens again, you just need some space to think. You cannot think when Brian is determined to seduce you.
It feels as if you haven’t had a coherent thought in weeks. Maybe you haven’t. Maybe that’s why everyone has been treating you as if you’ve lost your mind or as if you’ve been replaced by a pod person.
When you turn on the faucet, only ice-cold water pumps out from the frozen pipes. You don’t bother to adjust the heat before you jump in. Maybe it’s not your brightest idea- oh, sweet Jesus, it’s cold- but a cold shower is just what you need right now to chase off the memory of Brian’s body against yours.
Here's the thing: the problem isn’t even that you clearly made a mistake last night or that you let things get out of hand. The real problem is that you let it happen repeatedly.
When it should have been about reestablishing boundaries, last night was soft hands trailing over your back. It was Brian’s lips and tongue on your wrist, traveling down your arm, his mouthing the delicate skin in the crook of your elbow. It was his contented sigh when he pressed inside you. It was the way your gaze lingered too long on the places where your bodies touched. Too gentle, too intense.
Afterwards, you didn’t push him away or say “we need to talk” or anything like that. You could have told yourself that you never meant to, that it just kind of happened. But the words wouldn’t have really meant anything when you didn't even stop. You kept touching him. You kept kissing him.
You give yourself an extra splash in the face because you’re overreacting. You know you are. Look at Brian. He isn’t hiding in the bathroom. He gave no sign that last night freaked him out as much as it did you.
Then again, you can’t help but think… why should he be upset? Isn’t this what he wants? Every time you’ve tried to initiate some distance- starting with your first meeting all the way down to this morning- he’s resisted you. And you’ve let him.
It suddenly occurs to you that you have no idea what Brian wants from all this. That’s… not good.
Maybe this whole thing with Brian has been too easy all along. Since you lost Will, Brian has been the current, the instigator, and you’ve let him pull you whichever way so long as you didn’t have to be the one making the decisions. That way, it wouldn’t be your fault.
You never really considered how much stock you put in the assumption that what Brian wanted matched what you wanted. For all you know, it doesn’t. Because if what you both want is a casual fling, then you’ve both been doing it all wrong.
Unfortunately, you feel far from blameless in this situation. And, consciously or not, Brian has been instigating a shift.
You aren’t ready for another shift.
________________________
When you finally emerge from the bathroom, Brian is sitting on the edge of the bed. He's glaring down at his ringing phone as if it’s offended him. You don't know when any of his ringtones became familiar to you, but this one is unfamiliar.
(Neil’s ringtone is Natalia Kills’s “Hot Mess” for some reason, and yours is Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” because your music taste never ceases to amuse and Brian can be kind of an asshole when he wants to be).
“You gonna answer that?”
A tap of the ignore button and the phone goes into the top drawer of his nightstand. “It’s nothing,” he says.
“Okay,” you say because you don’t know what else to say.
When Brian finally looks at you, he does a funny kind of double-take at the load in your arms. “What are you doing?”
You clutch your toiletries to your chest. There’s a tad of unwarranted defensiveness in your tone when you say, “I’m going to take some of this stuff back to my place.”
Brian stares at your full arms, and something unreadable passes over his face. “Oh.”
“Is that…?” You stop yourself, because you were about to ask if it was all right. There’s no reason to ask that because of course it is. It’s your stuff, and it belongs in your apartment.
There’s a sardonic twist to his mouth when Brian hangs his head and runs a hand over his face. “You…”
“What?” You definitely sound defensive now.
Without answering, he’s suddenly up and moving toward the bathroom. He’s still naked, and there are marks along his body leftover from the night before. Your handiwork. You hear him snort when you avert your eyes.
“I hope you didn’t use all the hot water,” he says, sounding genuinely pissed off at the prospect.
“I didn’t…”
The door slams behind him, and you’re left feeling ridiculous standing there in the middle of the room with your shampoo and shaving cream.
Maybe you slam the door a little harder than necessary on your way out, too.
________________________
Despite how it feels, it really hasn’t been that long.
Still, when you push open the door, you can’t help but feel as if your apartment has the air of a sad, abandoned place.
With a deep sigh, you go about putting your things away. It only takes a few minutes. There really wasn’t as much stuff as you thought.
With that done, you’re left with nothing to do but slump, defeated, onto the edge of your bed. Being back here still feels off, as if you could turn your head quick enough and catch Will cooking in the kitchen or shaving at the bathroom sink. Somehow, your apartment manages to feel both too large and too claustrophobic at the same time.
But what choice do you have? You’re more convinced than ever that you need to reduce the amount of time you’re spending at Brian’s apartment, and you don’t want to impose any more on Uncle Victor and Aunt Maggie.
There are two voicemails waiting for you from your mother. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken. When you took up with Brian, you basically dived down the rabbit hole. She’ll want to know how you’re doing, if you’re still doing “better.”
You erase the voicemails.
You wouldn’t know what to tell her anyway.
________________________
Going to work seems like a better alternative than sitting alone in your apartment. With all your confusion, the busy work should at least offer a temporary refuge from your thoughts.
At least, that was the theory.
One of the things you most looked forward to about owning a café was the opportunity to build ties within the community. Now, you see the fallacy in building a place where anyone can find you, any time.
“What are you doing here, Gabi?”
The words came out harsher than you intended. You can tell Gabi felt every ounce of venom you just spat at her by the way her face tightens and her tone becomes clipped.
“I’m looking for Nick, Sonny.”
“Why do you think Nick would be here?”
“Well, this is the coffee house. You know, people hang out here. If he asked you for a cup of coffee, would you kick him out?”
You find it strange that either of them would even consider putting you in that position. Shouldn’t it go without saying that the trio that ruined your hopes and dreams should get their coffee elsewhere?
“Of course not. But-”
“But what? You know, Nick and me and Will are really trying to make this work. Are you above that? Is it really too much to ask you to try?”
She makes it sound as if you’re being unreasonable, like a stubborn child pouting at the dinner table and ruining everyone else’s dessert. You can’t raise your voice in front of your customers, but it’s a near thing. “What happens between me and Will is none of your damn business.”
“Look, I know you don’t like me. And I really don’t blame you for being angry with me.”
It’s funny, but you didn’t even realize that you were angry with Gabi until right this moment.
“Gee. That’s big of you, Gabi.”
You’re staring without meaning to at her baby bump. She's big as a house even though her delivery date is still a ways off. Seeing her makes the whole thing feel more real. There’s no denying that one day, very soon, that baby is going to come out, and everything is going to change. Again. You have to wonder what Will is thinking about this.
“We both care about Will,” she says.
Does she? T said Gabi and Nick were going to eat Will alive. You’ve seen how far Gabi is willing to go in order to get what she wants, what she was willing to do to Melanie when she got in her way. They were supposed to be friends, too.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” you tell her. “I’m not gonna stand here and watch you hurt him again.”
Defending Will comes naturally to you. It’s where you feel strongest. But something about Gabi’s expression warns you that you’re not going to like what she says next.
You’re already bracing yourself when she says, “Are you kidding me, Sonny? You’ve already hurt Will more than I ever could.”
There it is again. Abigail was kinder when she phrased it, but it’s still the same indictment. You abandoned Will. That’s how everyone sees it.
And you are twice as defensive hearing it from Gabi. “You’re really gonna judge me?”
“I was just saying-”
“Don’t talk to me about hurting people. I know exactly who you are and what you’ve done. And if Will knew-”
Maybe you went too far and hit Gabi where it hurts, because she throws down her ace in the hole, her cruelest weapon. “What Will knows is that I’m carrying his baby, okay? Our little girl.”
Theirs. Not yours. It’s the same thought you’ve had every day since that morning in the church. You still aren’t ready to hear it from anybody else, let alone from her.
“And that is something that is gonna keep us together for life. Something that you and Will will never have.”
It’s a bucket of ice water over your heart and a slap in the face all in one.
There’s a reason you were avoiding having this confrontation. No matter what you said, you were always going to lose. And it’s because Gabi has the upper hand on you. She and Will are bound together by blood now. Blood always wins out. You’re a Kiriakis. You should know.
You aren't even in the equation anymore.
So why are you still here fighting with Gabi?
Nick conveniently chooses this moment to show his face. For the first time ever, you’re actually relieved to see him.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Nothing,” she says. Gabi glares triumphantly at you. You imagine she feels really proud of herself. She didn’t even need to be saved from you, but her knight still showed up to do the honors. “Let’s go home.”
Nick looks between you, obviously curious, but he follows Gabi’s lead. They at least do you the favor of leaving before you can throw them out and prove Gabi right by acting petty.
Instead, you bite your tongue, and Gabi gets to have the last word. You’re left with frustration and anger surging through your shaking hands.
You didn't even raise your voice, but people are staring again.
Jackie touches your arm. “Sonny, I can get these customers. If you want to… I think there’s some inventory…”
“Yeah… okay. Okay.” Her kindness means you get to retreat to the back office to lick your wounds. No one would blame you if you stayed back there for a long time.
You make a mental note to talk to Chad about hiring on some more people so you won’t have to be there every day.
________________________
Some hours later, you're on a prearranged lunch date with Brian.
You’re still too preoccupied with thinking about Gabi and what she said to be anything but terrible company. You should have just cancelled. In all honesty, you just forgot. Then, Brian showed up, and now here you are, strolling through Horton Town Square with an untouched sandwich crushed in your hand.
Brian’s in a similar mood. You didn’t exactly have a fight, but you get the sense that he’s mad at you.
You wonder if his mood has something to do with his being hung-over from the night before, but your question just earns you a withering look.
“I wasn’t drunk, Sonny.”
You could argue that point, but you aren’t in the mood. “Fine.”
“And neither were you.”
Something about his tone makes your hackles rise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Brian just snorts.
You don’t know what his problem is, but you’re in no place to deal with this today. You don’t know why you’re pretending that you should be spending time together right now when it’s clearly not what either of you want to be doing.
When his phone starts ringing for the umpteenth time, and he makes no move to answer it, you finally give voice to the smallest of your frustrations:
“Will you just answer that? Who keeps calling you anyway?”
He looks at you as if he wasn’t expecting you to call him on this clearly shady behavior and he’s kind of ticked that you actually did. You expect him to snap at you, maybe something along the lines of “none of your business.”
What he actually says is, “My mother.”
“Oh. Well, why don’t you answer?”
“Because I don’t want to talk to her.” He says it as if you’re slow.
Fed up with his attitude, you’re about to cut the date short when something catches your eye in a store window and distracts you entirely.
It’s a bassinet. A beautiful, pristine white bassinet. The kind you imagine happy, affluent couples putting happy, affluent babies in. Picture perfect.
Abigail said that you were going to forgive Will. In her mind, you’re just on sabbatical from your relationship with Will until you can get over yourself. Maybe she’s right. You miss Will. You can admit that much to yourself. Still, it isn’t so simple, is it? This situation would be complicated even if there wasn’t a baby involved.
But there is.
Abigail can judge you all she wants, but you’re the one who would have to commit to a life on the sidelines of Will, Gabi, and baby makes three. Where would you fit into that picture?
You can’t stand Gabi. She can’t stand you. The logical part of your brain knows that it’s not the baby’s fault how it came into the world. But since when can human beings be counted on to always be rational? What if you ended up resenting Will’s child? You would hate to be that person. But what if…?
Brian appears at your shoulder. “What are you looking at?”
You’re watching his reflection in the glass, so you see Brian scowl when he sees the bassinet. “Oh.”
You try to envision Brian as a father, and the image doesn’t come. You’ve never discussed children before, but his reaction fits your expectations of him. Not that you ever realized you had any expectations.
The question flies out of your mouth before you can think about it: “Do you want to have kids someday?”
You don’t know what you were expecting, but his furious reaction to your question startles you. “Are you being serious right now?” he snaps. “Really, Sonny?”
Baffled, you can only stare at him. He’s really angry. What did you say?
He’s already walking away from you when he abruptly stops and yells back, “You can’t have it both ways.”
Stunned, you watch him walk away.
________________________
You’re a stress cleaner. Always have been. When things get overwhelming, you like to throw yourself into chores. Clean, simple purpose clears your head, and you don’t have to think about “You can’t have it both ways” or “I’m not giving up on us.”
Lucky you, your apartment has weeks worth of dust available to you. The lulling roar of the vacuum cleaner happily disrupts your quiet apartment. You determinedly attack every corner.
It just so happens that, while you’re pushing the vacuum under the bed, a familiar shade of blue pops out at you. There’s already a knot in your stomach before you even bend over to pick it up, “I’m not giving up on us” already back to the forefront of your mind.
It’s Will’s shirt. One of his favorites. He must have left it behind when he packed up his stuff. You always loved this shirt on him.
Such a simple thing… it probably shouldn’t still hurt like this.
You should give the shirt back. Or throw it away. This isn’t what you need right now.
You go so far as to pull over the wastebasket. But that’s as far as you get, because your fingers don’t seem to want to let go.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone. Your text is short and to the point:
I have something of yours.
Will doesn’t make you wait long for a response.
Common Grounds tonight? 6 o’clock?
You worry your bottom lip. It takes you a few minutes to work up the nerve.
All right.
________________________
Continue Reading Chapter 9...
Author: Starvinbohemian.
Rating: NC-17.
Pairings: Sonny/Brian, Sonny/Will.
Chapter Summary: Will.
Read either here or over at Ao3.
… The Loose Ends Will Make Knots
(Chapter 9)
It’s funny how the city can be buried under a layer of snow for the foreseeable future, and your dreams are full of sand and sun.
When you lick your lips, there are traces of sharp spices on your tongue, tastes you haven’t experienced in a long time. Familiar sounds, tastes, and sensations… In sleep, you’re home again.
Dubai is the home you never wanted and that never wanted you. Still, she caught you during a vulnerable, formative period; and now you’re inside each other, caught together in a coil made of both love and hate.
Right now, within the safety net of sleep, it’s love. Even amidst the misery and the fear, there were always silver linings in the cracks. It’s easier to access them from here than it is when you’re awake and it’s impossible to separate the personal from the political.
One of those silver linings was the warm, lulling breeze that sometimes blew through the sheer curtains of your bedroom window. Lying on your bed in your sweltering room, sweat slowly dripping down your face, you could close your eyes and feel the breeze like a cool caress over your body.
You can feel it now because you’re there again, lying on your old bed in the house you shared with your family the last time you all lived together. In reality, your brothers are scattered to the four winds. But if you commit to the illogic of the dreamscape, then you can believe that what you’re hearing is your brothers horsing around down in the street with the neighborhood boys.
The beauty of lucid dreaming lies in the simplicity of it: you want to be back there, and so you are. And everything… everyone is just as you left them.
As you wake up, slowly, reluctantly, Dubai’s heat lingers in your mouth, your head, your heart.
Strangely, though, the heat seems to remain even after the dream slips away. You realize why after a confused moment.
Brian is tucked up against your back, his legs entwined with yours. He’s wrapped snugly around you, his hold too tight to be comfortable. Last night, you thought there must be fire under his skin. This morning, his body is still warm enough to burn you.
(You wish you could carry the heat around with you as he does. After Dubai, after Texas, Salem is just too cold. You’re always too cold here.)
A rush of sudden homesickness grips your heart. It’s not even for Dubai. You ran from her the second you could as if there were fire under your feet and absolutely anywhere else was a cool pond. It’s elusive, what you’re missing, but you feel the loss of it all the same.
Just as you’re about to gently disentangle yourself, you freeze at the touch of Brian’s lips on the back of your neck. His hum, a sleepy, contented noise right there at the base of your neck, reverberates through your skin like a living echo.
You suck in a shaky breath.
You remember now, falling asleep like this, with Brian pressed up against you. Your bodies were limp, languid. You told yourself it was happening because the room was so cold and Brian was so warm. Even then, you were thinking of Dubai and how the nights never got as cold as the ones in Salem.
(You don’t know why you were expecting different, but it’s not the same, not at all. No matter how warm you are in Brian’s bed, Salem is not Dubai. You’re hundreds of miles away from the real thing.
And you’re never going back.)
The pressure of Brian’s mouth becomes more insistent, his tongue and teeth scraping along the nape of your neck.
It takes you a moment to find your voice. “Brian…” you say tentatively. Your intention is to put on the breaks. Not for the first time, Brian misunderstands you. Granted, you’re probably sending a mixed message by moaning at a sharp tug from his teeth on your ear.
You can tell from a light pull on your hair that he wants you to turn into a kiss. You don’t- your gaze remains stubbornly trained on where your fingers grip the sheets- but you’re shivering in his arms despite yourself.
It would be easier to stop if it didn’t feel so good. That’s kind of the problem. Brian makes you want. Probably because he wants so passionately. Sometimes, as it does now when his thigh slips between yours and there’s a whimper at the back of your throat, this thing with him feels inevitable, as if it was always going to happen between you one way or another.
You don’t really believe that, but it’s easy to believe with arousal clouding your head.
When he begins slowly and purposefully rocking against you, it takes everything in you not to grind down on his thigh or back against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, behind you and you want to give in, can already feel it happening, but…
Okay, you tell yourself, that’s enough.
With a frustrated sigh, you’re pushing at his grip and wiggling away until Brian takes a hint and releases you. The floor is cold under your feet, the air a cold contrast to the warmth of the bed sheets.
Yawning sleepily, Brian props himself up on an elbow. Blurry-eyed, he watches you escape the bed. “You all right?” He sounds as breathless as you feel.
You wish you could sound less flustered. “I’m fine,” you say, not looking at him. “I’m going to take a shower.”
The way he’s staring suggests that you didn’t exactly manage to come off as completely natural when you said that completely natural thing. Or maybe he’s staring because of the way you’re slowly backing away from him as if he’s a cobra you just found in your bed.
“Okay… Can I-?”
You close the bathroom door on his offer to join you, your heart racing in your chest as you lean back against the hard wood.
Your reflection in the bathroom mirror looks so ridiculously frazzled that you can’t help but feel embarrassed for yourself. Groaning into your hands, you let your head fall back with a hard thump against the door.
There was no good reason you had to run out of the room like a complete freak. It’s just that… if you’d stayed in the bed, then you and Brian would have had sex. Before that happens again, you just need some space to think. You cannot think when Brian is determined to seduce you.
It feels as if you haven’t had a coherent thought in weeks. Maybe you haven’t. Maybe that’s why everyone has been treating you as if you’ve lost your mind or as if you’ve been replaced by a pod person.
When you turn on the faucet, only ice-cold water pumps out from the frozen pipes. You don’t bother to adjust the heat before you jump in. Maybe it’s not your brightest idea- oh, sweet Jesus, it’s cold- but a cold shower is just what you need right now to chase off the memory of Brian’s body against yours.
Here's the thing: the problem isn’t even that you clearly made a mistake last night or that you let things get out of hand. The real problem is that you let it happen repeatedly.
When it should have been about reestablishing boundaries, last night was soft hands trailing over your back. It was Brian’s lips and tongue on your wrist, traveling down your arm, his mouthing the delicate skin in the crook of your elbow. It was his contented sigh when he pressed inside you. It was the way your gaze lingered too long on the places where your bodies touched. Too gentle, too intense.
Afterwards, you didn’t push him away or say “we need to talk” or anything like that. You could have told yourself that you never meant to, that it just kind of happened. But the words wouldn’t have really meant anything when you didn't even stop. You kept touching him. You kept kissing him.
You give yourself an extra splash in the face because you’re overreacting. You know you are. Look at Brian. He isn’t hiding in the bathroom. He gave no sign that last night freaked him out as much as it did you.
Then again, you can’t help but think… why should he be upset? Isn’t this what he wants? Every time you’ve tried to initiate some distance- starting with your first meeting all the way down to this morning- he’s resisted you. And you’ve let him.
It suddenly occurs to you that you have no idea what Brian wants from all this. That’s… not good.
Maybe this whole thing with Brian has been too easy all along. Since you lost Will, Brian has been the current, the instigator, and you’ve let him pull you whichever way so long as you didn’t have to be the one making the decisions. That way, it wouldn’t be your fault.
You never really considered how much stock you put in the assumption that what Brian wanted matched what you wanted. For all you know, it doesn’t. Because if what you both want is a casual fling, then you’ve both been doing it all wrong.
Unfortunately, you feel far from blameless in this situation. And, consciously or not, Brian has been instigating a shift.
You aren’t ready for another shift.
________________________
When you finally emerge from the bathroom, Brian is sitting on the edge of the bed. He's glaring down at his ringing phone as if it’s offended him. You don't know when any of his ringtones became familiar to you, but this one is unfamiliar.
(Neil’s ringtone is Natalia Kills’s “Hot Mess” for some reason, and yours is Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” because your music taste never ceases to amuse and Brian can be kind of an asshole when he wants to be).
“You gonna answer that?”
A tap of the ignore button and the phone goes into the top drawer of his nightstand. “It’s nothing,” he says.
“Okay,” you say because you don’t know what else to say.
When Brian finally looks at you, he does a funny kind of double-take at the load in your arms. “What are you doing?”
You clutch your toiletries to your chest. There’s a tad of unwarranted defensiveness in your tone when you say, “I’m going to take some of this stuff back to my place.”
Brian stares at your full arms, and something unreadable passes over his face. “Oh.”
“Is that…?” You stop yourself, because you were about to ask if it was all right. There’s no reason to ask that because of course it is. It’s your stuff, and it belongs in your apartment.
There’s a sardonic twist to his mouth when Brian hangs his head and runs a hand over his face. “You…”
“What?” You definitely sound defensive now.
Without answering, he’s suddenly up and moving toward the bathroom. He’s still naked, and there are marks along his body leftover from the night before. Your handiwork. You hear him snort when you avert your eyes.
“I hope you didn’t use all the hot water,” he says, sounding genuinely pissed off at the prospect.
“I didn’t…”
The door slams behind him, and you’re left feeling ridiculous standing there in the middle of the room with your shampoo and shaving cream.
Maybe you slam the door a little harder than necessary on your way out, too.
________________________
Despite how it feels, it really hasn’t been that long.
Still, when you push open the door, you can’t help but feel as if your apartment has the air of a sad, abandoned place.
With a deep sigh, you go about putting your things away. It only takes a few minutes. There really wasn’t as much stuff as you thought.
With that done, you’re left with nothing to do but slump, defeated, onto the edge of your bed. Being back here still feels off, as if you could turn your head quick enough and catch Will cooking in the kitchen or shaving at the bathroom sink. Somehow, your apartment manages to feel both too large and too claustrophobic at the same time.
But what choice do you have? You’re more convinced than ever that you need to reduce the amount of time you’re spending at Brian’s apartment, and you don’t want to impose any more on Uncle Victor and Aunt Maggie.
There are two voicemails waiting for you from your mother. It’s been a while since you’ve spoken. When you took up with Brian, you basically dived down the rabbit hole. She’ll want to know how you’re doing, if you’re still doing “better.”
You erase the voicemails.
You wouldn’t know what to tell her anyway.
________________________
Going to work seems like a better alternative than sitting alone in your apartment. With all your confusion, the busy work should at least offer a temporary refuge from your thoughts.
At least, that was the theory.
One of the things you most looked forward to about owning a café was the opportunity to build ties within the community. Now, you see the fallacy in building a place where anyone can find you, any time.
“What are you doing here, Gabi?”
The words came out harsher than you intended. You can tell Gabi felt every ounce of venom you just spat at her by the way her face tightens and her tone becomes clipped.
“I’m looking for Nick, Sonny.”
“Why do you think Nick would be here?”
“Well, this is the coffee house. You know, people hang out here. If he asked you for a cup of coffee, would you kick him out?”
You find it strange that either of them would even consider putting you in that position. Shouldn’t it go without saying that the trio that ruined your hopes and dreams should get their coffee elsewhere?
“Of course not. But-”
“But what? You know, Nick and me and Will are really trying to make this work. Are you above that? Is it really too much to ask you to try?”
She makes it sound as if you’re being unreasonable, like a stubborn child pouting at the dinner table and ruining everyone else’s dessert. You can’t raise your voice in front of your customers, but it’s a near thing. “What happens between me and Will is none of your damn business.”
“Look, I know you don’t like me. And I really don’t blame you for being angry with me.”
It’s funny, but you didn’t even realize that you were angry with Gabi until right this moment.
“Gee. That’s big of you, Gabi.”
You’re staring without meaning to at her baby bump. She's big as a house even though her delivery date is still a ways off. Seeing her makes the whole thing feel more real. There’s no denying that one day, very soon, that baby is going to come out, and everything is going to change. Again. You have to wonder what Will is thinking about this.
“We both care about Will,” she says.
Does she? T said Gabi and Nick were going to eat Will alive. You’ve seen how far Gabi is willing to go in order to get what she wants, what she was willing to do to Melanie when she got in her way. They were supposed to be friends, too.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” you tell her. “I’m not gonna stand here and watch you hurt him again.”
Defending Will comes naturally to you. It’s where you feel strongest. But something about Gabi’s expression warns you that you’re not going to like what she says next.
You’re already bracing yourself when she says, “Are you kidding me, Sonny? You’ve already hurt Will more than I ever could.”
There it is again. Abigail was kinder when she phrased it, but it’s still the same indictment. You abandoned Will. That’s how everyone sees it.
And you are twice as defensive hearing it from Gabi. “You’re really gonna judge me?”
“I was just saying-”
“Don’t talk to me about hurting people. I know exactly who you are and what you’ve done. And if Will knew-”
Maybe you went too far and hit Gabi where it hurts, because she throws down her ace in the hole, her cruelest weapon. “What Will knows is that I’m carrying his baby, okay? Our little girl.”
Theirs. Not yours. It’s the same thought you’ve had every day since that morning in the church. You still aren’t ready to hear it from anybody else, let alone from her.
“And that is something that is gonna keep us together for life. Something that you and Will will never have.”
It’s a bucket of ice water over your heart and a slap in the face all in one.
There’s a reason you were avoiding having this confrontation. No matter what you said, you were always going to lose. And it’s because Gabi has the upper hand on you. She and Will are bound together by blood now. Blood always wins out. You’re a Kiriakis. You should know.
You aren't even in the equation anymore.
So why are you still here fighting with Gabi?
Nick conveniently chooses this moment to show his face. For the first time ever, you’re actually relieved to see him.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Nothing,” she says. Gabi glares triumphantly at you. You imagine she feels really proud of herself. She didn’t even need to be saved from you, but her knight still showed up to do the honors. “Let’s go home.”
Nick looks between you, obviously curious, but he follows Gabi’s lead. They at least do you the favor of leaving before you can throw them out and prove Gabi right by acting petty.
Instead, you bite your tongue, and Gabi gets to have the last word. You’re left with frustration and anger surging through your shaking hands.
You didn't even raise your voice, but people are staring again.
Jackie touches your arm. “Sonny, I can get these customers. If you want to… I think there’s some inventory…”
“Yeah… okay. Okay.” Her kindness means you get to retreat to the back office to lick your wounds. No one would blame you if you stayed back there for a long time.
You make a mental note to talk to Chad about hiring on some more people so you won’t have to be there every day.
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Some hours later, you're on a prearranged lunch date with Brian.
You’re still too preoccupied with thinking about Gabi and what she said to be anything but terrible company. You should have just cancelled. In all honesty, you just forgot. Then, Brian showed up, and now here you are, strolling through Horton Town Square with an untouched sandwich crushed in your hand.
Brian’s in a similar mood. You didn’t exactly have a fight, but you get the sense that he’s mad at you.
You wonder if his mood has something to do with his being hung-over from the night before, but your question just earns you a withering look.
“I wasn’t drunk, Sonny.”
You could argue that point, but you aren’t in the mood. “Fine.”
“And neither were you.”
Something about his tone makes your hackles rise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Brian just snorts.
You don’t know what his problem is, but you’re in no place to deal with this today. You don’t know why you’re pretending that you should be spending time together right now when it’s clearly not what either of you want to be doing.
When his phone starts ringing for the umpteenth time, and he makes no move to answer it, you finally give voice to the smallest of your frustrations:
“Will you just answer that? Who keeps calling you anyway?”
He looks at you as if he wasn’t expecting you to call him on this clearly shady behavior and he’s kind of ticked that you actually did. You expect him to snap at you, maybe something along the lines of “none of your business.”
What he actually says is, “My mother.”
“Oh. Well, why don’t you answer?”
“Because I don’t want to talk to her.” He says it as if you’re slow.
Fed up with his attitude, you’re about to cut the date short when something catches your eye in a store window and distracts you entirely.
It’s a bassinet. A beautiful, pristine white bassinet. The kind you imagine happy, affluent couples putting happy, affluent babies in. Picture perfect.
Abigail said that you were going to forgive Will. In her mind, you’re just on sabbatical from your relationship with Will until you can get over yourself. Maybe she’s right. You miss Will. You can admit that much to yourself. Still, it isn’t so simple, is it? This situation would be complicated even if there wasn’t a baby involved.
But there is.
Abigail can judge you all she wants, but you’re the one who would have to commit to a life on the sidelines of Will, Gabi, and baby makes three. Where would you fit into that picture?
You can’t stand Gabi. She can’t stand you. The logical part of your brain knows that it’s not the baby’s fault how it came into the world. But since when can human beings be counted on to always be rational? What if you ended up resenting Will’s child? You would hate to be that person. But what if…?
Brian appears at your shoulder. “What are you looking at?”
You’re watching his reflection in the glass, so you see Brian scowl when he sees the bassinet. “Oh.”
You try to envision Brian as a father, and the image doesn’t come. You’ve never discussed children before, but his reaction fits your expectations of him. Not that you ever realized you had any expectations.
The question flies out of your mouth before you can think about it: “Do you want to have kids someday?”
You don’t know what you were expecting, but his furious reaction to your question startles you. “Are you being serious right now?” he snaps. “Really, Sonny?”
Baffled, you can only stare at him. He’s really angry. What did you say?
He’s already walking away from you when he abruptly stops and yells back, “You can’t have it both ways.”
Stunned, you watch him walk away.
________________________
You’re a stress cleaner. Always have been. When things get overwhelming, you like to throw yourself into chores. Clean, simple purpose clears your head, and you don’t have to think about “You can’t have it both ways” or “I’m not giving up on us.”
Lucky you, your apartment has weeks worth of dust available to you. The lulling roar of the vacuum cleaner happily disrupts your quiet apartment. You determinedly attack every corner.
It just so happens that, while you’re pushing the vacuum under the bed, a familiar shade of blue pops out at you. There’s already a knot in your stomach before you even bend over to pick it up, “I’m not giving up on us” already back to the forefront of your mind.
It’s Will’s shirt. One of his favorites. He must have left it behind when he packed up his stuff. You always loved this shirt on him.
Such a simple thing… it probably shouldn’t still hurt like this.
You should give the shirt back. Or throw it away. This isn’t what you need right now.
You go so far as to pull over the wastebasket. But that’s as far as you get, because your fingers don’t seem to want to let go.
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you pull out your phone. Your text is short and to the point:
I have something of yours.
Will doesn’t make you wait long for a response.
Common Grounds tonight? 6 o’clock?
You worry your bottom lip. It takes you a few minutes to work up the nerve.
All right.
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Continue Reading Chapter 9...