RP: A Morbid Anniversary

[tobiaswhitehall]

Date: March 26
Characters: Tobias Whitehall, Simon Butler (NPC) 
Location: Restland Cemetary
Status: Private
Summary: A morbid, sunny day in which Tobias talks to a gravestone and has a flashback.
Completion: Complete

Rolling up his shirt sleeves, Tobias crested the hill with a slight hitch in his breath. The long walks he had started taking with Beatrix were helping both of them. The dog was not along for this particular pilgrimage, a threat to the solemnity of the cemetery according to the signs posted on the fence. Her presence was sorely missed.

He found the stone after a long hunt, getting turned around by the rows of angels and plastic flowers. It was simple enough with the name and dates and simple epitaph on one half, a vacant space awaiting his own name when the day came.

“I don’t feel any closer to you here.” He admitted as he sat irreverently on the solid stone. The sun had warmed the rock and he sat quietly, face turned upwards like the flowers. “A few people in group talk about how they come out to the grave and talk and they feel like their loved one is listening. I think I’d hate that. Knowing that you were sticking around here. I hope if you are watching it’s somewhere you’d want to be.”

A slow line of cars passed by not far away, carting mourners to a distant corner. He waited for them to pass.

“I probably look like a mad Byronic hero out here. To bad it’s such a nice day, it should be windy and maybe raining a little. Appropriately dramatic.” He snorted. “Like the day we met, actually.”

Chicago, November 1977

The front door swung closed, catching at the back of his jacket. Irritated, Tobias kicked at the door until it swung open, releasing him out into the world. The city’s infamous winds kicked up around him, biting at his neck and fingers. Grumbling to himself, he fished his knit cap out of his battered backpack and shoved it down as far as it would go. The shaggy haircut that curled his professors’ lips served him well, pressing warmly against the nape of his neck.

Gloves had been forgone, having lost his fifth pair to the wilds of the lecture hall. There wasn’t money left in his meticulously kept budget for a sixth. Instead, he lined his pockets with tissue that kept his hands from freezing off completely. He dreaded the return of full blooded winter and hoped that his mother would make good on her promise of sending him winter attire for Christmas.

The walk to class was fifteen blocks and each sent him retreating farther and farther into his jacket until his shoulders were up around his ears. The only thing that kept him going was the promise of free cups of tea from the teacher’s lounge. Despite being a lowly graduate student, they would let him take a few minutes rest there and warm himself before setting out to teach.

The lucid notes of a saxophone reached him long before he saw the busker. The tune wasn’t one he recognized, but it certainly didn’t match the bleak fall day. It rose and fell in joyful measures, before being swept off by the wind. It wasn’t unusual to find a student musician playing on a street corner to raise a little extra money, but it was strange for them to do so this time of year. Usually they retreated inside for the colder months, reemerging like bears in the Spring, lean from their hibernating months.

This intrepid soul though was standing out in the wind and the chill as if it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He wore an army surplus great coat, jeans and Doc Martins that had seen better days. Gloves with the fingers torn away allowed him to play his instrument with ease. One of his exposed ears boasted two delicate loops of silver and a matching one through his left eyebrow. Glasses repaired with tape sat uneasily on the bridge of his nose. Someone had done a shoddy job of trimming the light brown hair and it hung in chunks around his face.

Tobias slowed to stop. The music was charming, but it was the musician that captured his attention. He leaned against the trash can, oblivious to the cold and listened. Other people rushed by, some of them pausing to toss a coin into the open case, but no one else lingered. The musician seemed to become slowly aware of Tobias presence, glancing at him occasionally, a shy smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. The music started to shift subtly from exuberant gospel to smokey blues that lingered between them like an invitation.

When the music finally wound down, Tobias hands found their numb way to his wallet. He plucked out a dollar that he could ill afford to part with and let if flutter into the open case.

“That was beautiful.” He said quietly.

“Was it?” The musician smiled, a closed lip affair. “I didn’t think you stopped for the music.”

“You’re beautiful.” He said even softer, the wind overriding them. But the musician must have heard because the smile grew enough for Tobias to spot crooked teeth. “Will you still be here in a few hours?”

“No, I’ve got a gig tonight.” His accent was vague, voice deeper than Tobias had expected somehow. “Why?”

Heart thudding in his chest, Tobias took another step forward. They were too close for polite society now.

“I’d like to spend the afternoon with you.” He murmured.

“Would you now?” The musician rocked backwards on his feet, but didn’t quite draw away. “I’m not for rent.”

“I? What! No.” Tobias swallowed hard, glad the wind had already reddened his cheeks. “That isn’t.. of course. You’re not interested. I’m terribly sorry. I’ll just...” He gathered up his backpack, trying to will away the shame when a hand landed on his arm.

“No, don’t go.” Dark eyes glimmered behind taped up glasses. “I’d like that, really I would. Just some people think because I’m out here...”

“I didn’t.” Tobias chanced another smile. “You would? That’s good. I just need to make a phone call. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where would I be going?” The musician laughed and it was a good laugh, earthy and strong.

“Ok, good.” He practically ran to the nearest pay phone, slamming a coin into the slot. He misdialed three times, cursing himself.

“Hello?”

“Professor Daniels, it’s Tobias.” He did his best Tiny Tim impression. “Sir, I was on my way to class, but I don’t think I can make it. “

“Excuse me?” The cultured voice on the other end of the line was sharp. Tobias winced.

“I haven’t been feeling right for days, sir and I was halfway there when I started to feel faint.” Which was accurate enough, in fact, the truth was probably the way to go. “Heart’s racing and my hands are pretty shaky. I might be getting a fever.”

“I will allow it this one time.” The professor sighed. “Only because you’ve never pulled this before. If I so much as think you will again, we will have words. Do you understand me, young man?”

“Yes, sir, absolutely, sir.” He forced a stuttering cough.

“Oh, go back home and get some rest, you fool. I expect to see you back here on Monday.” The click of the line filled him with knee melting relief.

Turning back, he thought for one brief wrenching moment that the musician was gone. The corner he’d been playing at was empty, showing no trace he’d ever been there.

“That was quite a performance.” A warm voice said from directly behind him. Tobias jumped, turning on his heels. Case slung over his back and hands shoved his pocket, the musician grinned at him. “Do you act?”

“Some.” He admitted. “Pretty much grew up in a theater. I’m Tobias, by the way.”

“Simon. Forgive me if I don’t shake, my fingers are freezing.”

“Mine too.” He gave him a bashful grin. “Where should we-”

“Not mine. I’ve got terrible roommates.” Simon cut in. “What about yours?”

“It’s godawful.” He warned. “But there’s a bed and no one else around.”

“Sounds charming, lead on.”

They didn’t speak as they retraced Tobias’ path. Occasionally, their arms would brush and an electric jolt would run through him. The door, perhaps recalling the earlier assault, gave him no trouble for once. The six story climb, usually a labor that left him wheezing, went almost entirely unnoticed.

His apartment was more like a closet with a microscopic kitchen and bathroom, but it did have cozy nest of a bed. Ruthlessly, he cast aside the piles of blankets and pillows while Simon took of his coat and laid it over the kitchen counter. The black t-shirt he wore underneath declared his devotion to The Who and showed off biceps that made Tobias’ mouth go dry. His own soft academic body made him hesitate.

“Don’t tell me your getting shy now?” Simon laughed again and Tobias found he didn’t care that it was at his expense.

“A little.” He slid off his jacket, throwing it in the direction of the scattered pillows.

“Don’t be. I liked how brave you were. To just ask.” Crossing the room, Simon reached for him.

Their bodies slotted together in a tight embrace, warm and potent after the outside chill. Their lips were both chapped and raw when they pressed them together, but that didn’t stop them. A distant scent of incense clung to Simon’s skin, intensified when he peeled off his shirt. Tobias pulled back to remove his own, self-consciousness drowning out by the beat of blood in his ears.

Simon ran a hand down Tobias’ stomach watching it quiver. His fingers latched onto his waistband, drawing down the zipper in a single practiced motion.

“All right?” He asked, lips pressed into Tobias’ neck.

“Yes.” Tipping his head back to give him more room. “Very.”

“Good.”

Simon sank down, kneeling on one of the tossed aside pillows. With a yank, he had Tobias’ pants and underwear down to his ankles and his cock half way into his mouth.

“Holy shit!” Tobias laughed, trying to steady himself.

Simon didn’t answer, but his laughter hummed around him. Finding the edge of the bed, Tobias managed to sit and kick off his shoes, pants and underwear, all without losing the delicious heat engulfing him. His fists wrapped into his sheets as he struggled to make it last.

“You can touch me.” Simon pulled away, his mouth pink and wet.

“Oh.” He said faintly and reached for him, stroking his hands over strong shoulders.

“You’ve done this before, right?”

“What? Sex in general or taking home a stranger?” Tobias frowned. “I’ve had sex. More than a few times, thank you very much..”

“Have you ever been fucked?” The word rolled in his mouth and came out more appetizing than it should’ve been.

“Never on the first date.” Tobias raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Idle curiosity.”

“Idle, my ass.”

“Well, yeah.”

Simon gave him a lopsided grin and Tobias couldn’t help, but laugh. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, Simon swallowed him down again. Tobias laughter cut off abruptly, making way for a series of embarrassingly obscene noises. When he came, it was with a yelp like he’d been scalded. Wiping at his mouth, Simon pulled away with an expression of bewilderment.

“Has anyone ever told you that you sound like wounded animal when you get blown?”

“No, that’d be a first.” He fell back on the bed, a little dazed. “Don’t think I’ve ever been blown that way.”

“Mmm. Guess you’ve never made it with someone who spends most of their time practicing their breathing.”

“Also a first.” He realized he was probably showing terrible manners and struggled to get up. The bed was comfortable though. “How about you ditch your pants and get into bed, so I can return the favor?”

“Oh that wasn’t a favor.” But Simon sat down and started to unlace his docs. “I expect it to be paid back in full.”

“I think I can manage that.” He watched hungrily as the shoes were finally untangled and removed. Holey socks gave way to calloused feet. Jeans came away inch by inch, reveling a fine greyhound build and hard on that looked painful.

“How-” Simon started, but Tobias was already moving, drawing him down to the bed and laying him against the sheets. Unlike Simon, he took his time, letting his mouth graze over the long neck, broad chest and frighteningly concave stomach.

“Don’t eat much?”

“They don’t call it starving artist to be picturesque.” Simon shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Not in the slightest.”

He turned his attention to where it was needed most. He was gratified to find that Simon, while not in wounded animal territory, did make a series of low groans that weren’t particularly dignified. It also took him a near eternity to come and Tobias was relatively sure his jaw would ache for days after this. When he did finish, Tobias obligingly swallowed though he’d never really had fondness for the taste. Still, manners and all.

“You’re good at that.” Simon grinned as Tobias crawled upwards to settle in next to him. “Guess you have done it before.”

“Do I look that innocent to you?”

“No..it’s not that.” He reached over and carded a hand through Tobias’ hair. “You just looked a little dazed.”

“It might be the first time I’ve done it sober and in a bed.” He admitted, through a yawn. “I think I like it better this way.”

Lulled by satisfaction and the comfort of the bed, they dozed, Simon’s head resting on Tobias’s chest. Behind them the radiator clicked on and off, sending gushes of warm air over them. The square of light from the window slid slowly downwards, marking the sauntering of the sun.

When he started to wake, Tobias ran his hand over Simon’s back. A black squiggle of a tattoo ran from the base of his neck down his spine, coming to a stop halfway down his back.

“What’s it say?” He asked through a yawn, running the pad of his thumb over the mark.

“‘Music is love in search of a word.” Simon turned his head upwards, regarding him with half-lidded eyes. Without his glasses, he looked softer. “Written by the divine Colette.”

“I like it.” He traced the words again, slower this time, learning the curling letters. “Do you believe it?”

“I didn’t get it permanently embedded in my skin because it was bullshit.” Pillowing his chin on his hands, he looked at Tobias with a wry smile. “I think music takes over when there are no words.”

“It’s late.” Tobias said, instead of replying. “You'll miss your gig.”

“Should I go then?”

They stared at each other and Tobias’ hand stilled on the tattoo. He knew how this was supposed to go. He said yes, Simon disappeared into the night and they never saw each other again. That’s how it was. Next week, he’d go to a club, find another partner and do it over again. Except....except that partner wouldn’t have such a seductive laugh or have poetry engraved on his skin or...

“No. Please don’t.” He hesitated. “At least let me make you something to eat.”

“Yeah, all right.” Simon stretched leisurely as if he wasn’t bothered either way. “What’ve you got?”

They wound up eating peanut butter sandwiches soaked in honey with lukewarm cola to wash it down. At first, Tobias had worried that the offering was to meager. He loved food and the act of feeding someone stirred something primal and protective in him. But Simon had declared them, ‘Oh fuck, perfect, thanks.’ and eaten three before Tobias had taken more than a few bites of his first.

“My roommates are fuckwits.” Simon confided as the meal disappeared and conversation took it’s place rather more naturally than Tobias could have hoped for. “I live in this crappy brownstone with five other musicians and it reeks of weed all the time. I don’t mind smoking once and a while, but everything I own is starting to reek. It’s cheap enough, except half of them can’t make the rent every month. I’m the only one that brings in anything like consistent money.”

“From busking?”

“Hell, no. I wish. I wait tables at this unbelievably shitty diner. The pays horrible, but better than nothing which is what most of them make. And they do let me take off whenever I need too. My band plays a lot of weddings and we make some money off of that, but it makes my schedule weird.”

“So you’re not a student then?” Tobias sucked on his thumb, getting rid of the last of the honey.

“No.” Simon watched him intently. “That’s distracting.”

“Is it?” He pulled his hand from his mouth and looked at his fingers. “Why?”

“Hilarious. I’m not making my gig am I?”

Tobias pursed his lips in mock thought. “I’m going to go with no.”

The bed was abused several times over the next two days. Tobias’ tiny supply of food was completely depleted, but neither of them wanted to leave. The apartment which had always felt little better than a prison cell had become a debauched haven, shielding them from the outside world.

“I’ve got to go teach tomorrow.” Tobias groaned into his pillow Sunday night. Simon was sitting on the floor, going through Tobias’ record collection without mercy. So far everything Tobias owned was for old fogies.

“I’ve got work.” Simon tossed a Buddy Holly record into the rapidly growing ‘No’ pile. The ‘Yes’ pile consisted of a lone Rolling Stones single and the Clash album he’d found in a dollar bin and never listened too. “Tell me, are the seventies just a rumor to you?”

“My tastes are classic.” He rolled over onto his back, his head upside down next to Simon’s. “Bet mine are worth more in twenty years than yours.”

“That is beyond not the point.” Simon scoffed. “How do you even communicate with other people your age?”

“I proposition them on the street.” He gave him an upside down grin. “Worked on you.”

“Because I’m clearly a mental defective.” Simon rolled his eyes, but kissed him once with promise.

“Move in with me.” He blurted out.

“Come again?” Simon backed off as if burnt. “Did all the blood go to your head that fast?”

“No...I mean, probably, but that’s not why I’m asking.” He tried to look reasonable. “Look, you work at night, I work during the day. We’d never see each other. If we split the rent, it’ll cost next to nothing and I’m good for it. I’ve had this place two years and never missed a payment. No strings or anything.”

“Toby, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your apartment is roughly the size of my asshole and probably less comfortable to be in.”

“Wouldn’t know yet.” He pushed his hands against the floor, arching his pelvis up in a colossal stretch. “Anyway, we can shuffle stuff around. Put the bed on stilts that’ll give us some drawer space.”

Simon was watching Tobias loose pajama bottoms crept south and frowned.

“What about sex?”

“What about it?” He came back down with a soft oomph and rolled back onto his stomach. “Either we’ll have it or we won’t.”

“We’ll be sharing a bed.” Simon pointed out.

“Not at the same time. You said yourself you usually sleep in the day.”

“Toby...” Simon ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “It’s a shitty idea.”

“You’re thinking about it.”

“It won’t work.”

“So what?” Tobias shrugged. “There’s plenty of godawful squats in this city. You don’t like mine, move out. Might as well give it a shot.”

“You’re nuts you, you know. You don’t know anything about me.”

Reaching out, Tobias trailed a finger over the top of the tattoo.

“I know enough.”

Present Day

The cavalcade of cars was returning and Tobias looked at the sun to find it much advanced across the sky.

“Hell, I’m a foggy old man, dreaming of bygones.” He rubbed at his eyes until the pinprick of tears faded. “I loved you already then, even though I didn’t know a blessed thing about you. Maybe that’s ridiculous, You always seemed to think it was something that happened over weeks and months and I glossed it smooth over the years, but it was true. I loved the curve of your spine and your laugh, right away.”

The last of the cars faded into the distance. Somewhere the true work of death was now at work, decaying the dearly departed as their loved ones went to coffee and egg salad sandwiches.

“I miss you.” He said vaguely. “I always miss you. Today isn’t really any worse than any other day to be honest. You died today, but you’re missing every day, so what does it matter? Three years.... it seems impossible that I’ve lived this long without you. Those first few months, I assumed I would just die. That would be the fittingly Byronic thing to do, wouldn’t it? Just expire in grief like a Victorian heroine.”

He patted the stone vaguely.

“But you’ve always told me that life isn’t like that and you’ve always been right. Life just keeps on being there to be lived and I can’t bring myself to quit it. You’d be pissed anyway, if I did. So I talk to your picture like a doddering professor that I am and walk the dog and what? I don’t know really. If I was my own patient, I would tell myself to get out more. Meet new people. But I’m not a patient, I’m just myself and I’ve got no idea what that means anymore without you to help me define it.”

He stood up and brushed dust from the seat of his pants.

"I still don't think you're here, but... just in case." He bent over and kissed the warmed stone. "I love you."

He walked back down his car, not sure if he felt any more settled than when he'd arrived.