Now we speak with ruined tongues

Location ⇥ Carroll Park

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees of Carroll Park, casting long shadows across the winding walking paths. A warm breeze stirred the leaves overhead, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass and blooming wildflowers still. Families occupied the playground in the distance while runners passed every so often, but away from the noise, beneath an old oak tree, sat Elena.

Two thick medical textbooks lay open on the blanket beside her, pages littered with colourful tabs and handwritten notes. One focused on trauma surgery, the other on cardiothoracics. A yellow highlighter rested between her fingers, though she'd been staring at the same paragraph for nearly five minutes. She exhaled sharply, running her hand over her eyes to keep them awake.

As Ocean ran, he had so many thoughts running through his mind. Somehow he now had not one but two crushes (that sounded so immature to phrase it like that, but he didn’t know how else to say it), but he was pretty sure nothing serious would ever come of that. Why would they want him? As soon as he had that thought though, Ocean tried to push it away; it was that sort of destructive mindset he was trying to avoid now. So Ocean tried to think about anything else, and when that didn’t work, he just pushed himself to run faster. 

Eventually though he couldn’t do it anymore. Breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his bare arms and shoulders in his sleeveless shirt, Ocean collapsed onto a bench. It was only afterwards that he realized someone else was there too. “Do you…mind…if I sit here?” he panted. 

"Yeah, actually, I really like it," Gray confirmed easily enough, because he was being serious. Ocean would never be a name he was likely to forget now, either. "Commune?" there was gentle, prompting interest for the other man to perhaps open the door and share more information about where he came from. Commune sounded like one of those closed societies with their own set of rules and regulations, maybe hippy-dippy culture even, and he wondered if that explained Ocean's rather shy disposition. "Don't think there was until I blew into town a couple months ago," he smiled. "That means you need to come visit me down at the shop sometime, so I can brush you up on your surfing lessons and get you back your sea legs." His head dipped in closer as he added, "Or just to see each other again, would be nice." Grayson, in contrast, was not a shy man. He chased what he wanted without apology until there was reason to no longer. He could want something or someone for incredibly simple reasons, too.

Like cute, adorable shyness. Or unique names like Ocean. Maybe even the shape of those lips.

Nodding, Ocean explained, “Yeah, I grew up on a commune in Ojai. I’ve only lived here for about seven months. And I’m…well, pretty shy, so I haven’t gotten out as much as I would have liked…or made as many friends.” He had made very few in fact. At Gray’s invitation, Ocean smiled again and said, “I…I would like that…a lot.” He blushed again, but Ocean tried not to be self-conscious about that. He looked at Gray, who seemed so kind and patient, and he told himself to just relax. That’s what he tried to do as they continued talking. Ocean liked the way Gray talked about the other people here, the way he saw them; his words seemed sincere to Ocean. And that was another thing that helped him feel better because maybe Gray really had seen something he liked about Ocean. Shaking his head, he responded, “No, I don’t want you to go. I’m just…trying to accept the idea that someone as hot as you wants to talk to me.” There he went saying things he couldn’t believe. It was true though. 

For a few seconds, Ocean looked into Grayson’s eyes, and then he smiled as an idea came to him. “Do you want to go to your shop now?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. “We can keep talking and getting to know each other.”

"Ooh, you alright there?" taken from those dirty thoughts, replaced with some genuine concern and lift of his brows as the man choked. Okay, maybe those thoughts weren't quite gone yet. "Ocean, what a great name," Grayson flattered, taking a firm hold of the other man's hand. "And right in line with my work, too," he went on easily, not yet relinquishing the touch. "Don't know if you're aware of this, but I own Cowabunga Surf's shop, so you and I?" With his free hand, he gestured between the two of them. "We're practically fated to meet. What do you think about that?"

And, while it was a cute way to flirt and joke, Grayson did actually find the moment rather curious and serendipitous. How likely would it have been to come across someone with a name so related to what he loved the most in life?

“Do you really think so?” Ocean asked when Gray complimented his name. “People think it’s weird sometimes. I mean, back home on the commune, it’s pretty normal, but everywhere else…” His voice trailed off, somber now as he remembered what Aaron used to say about his name, the way he’d call him Puddle, how he would say he was too shallow and empty to have a name like Ocean. He was sure it showed on his face now, but Ocean managed to smile again. Gray was very nice, very outgoing, and…well, Ocean thought he might be flirting with him. The notion made him immediately flustered as the voices tried to fight to the surface, to be heard, but again, Ocean blocked them out (mostly). “I didn’t know there was a surf shop here. I used to surf a little in college, which was mostly me watching,” Ocean told Gray. That had ended when he met Aaron, who began to isolate him from his friends. “I always kind of wanted to give it another try.” Maybe Gray could help with that. Smiling at the man’s words, Ocean blushed again and replied, “Maybe we were.” He liked how that sounded. 

And then it happened: Gray moved closer and put his hand over Ocean’s, leaning in. Immediately Ocean’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away, even as he blushed again. His heart was hammering, but there was something about the way that Gray looked at him that made Ocean feel something he hadn’t in a long time: he felt desirable. He gave himself a quick internal pep talk, and before he could overthink it all, Ocean smiled softly and said, “Maybe…maybe I’m interested.” But then he sighed, realizing what he was doing. “There are so many other hotter guys around here,” he said, gesturing around sadly. “You can do a lot better than me.”

With the shop closed today for the 4th of July, Grayson decided to go out and enjoy himself. Made Tristan come out with him too, so his nephew would have some fun and loosen up. Tristan liked to think he was nice and loose, but the younger man was definitely too serious and reserved. Food, people, and fireworks? What more could a young man need to get into some good, wholesome fun?

But they were now a few hours into the event, night already fallen, and Tristan had wandered off to find that good, wholesome fun Grayson hoped he would. He, meanwhile, was waiting around for Winnie to come drag him onto that yacht she'd invited him to, for the fireworks show later.

For most of the day, Ocean had wandered the town events, trying to act like he wasn’t terribly self-conscious. He hadn’t been sure what to wear, so in the end he’d settled on a pair of shorts and a colorful tank top he’d borrowed from Forest, topped off with his favorite sunglasses. At least Ocean liked the way he looked right now (if he didn’t think about it too much or look in the mirror too frequently). Still, Ocean felt like everyone was watching him here alone. Everyone else seemed like they had someone, so eventually Ocean just sat at a picnic table, a little despondent. At least he’d found a chocolate-covered banana at one of the food stands, and he tried to enjoy it. 

When the man started talking, Ocean didn’t realize it was to him. In fact, he looked behind him as if there would be someone there, someone the man was actually speaking to. But it seemed he was in fact talking to Ocean. Looking up at the man before he sat down, Ocean took the sight of him in. He was…well, he was incredibly hot, Ocean noticed that immediately, and he felt himself swoon a little. Unable to actually form coherent words for a few seconds, Ocean took a bite of his snack while he tried to get it together. But then he thought he was being rude, so he swallowed quickly, and of course he began to cough. Smooth, you idiot, the voice said. “Sorry,” Ocean replied when he could speak again, face a little red (some of that from embarrassment). He took the man’s hand, immediately feeling a charge, and he said, “I’m Ocean. Nice to meet you, Gray.” Shaking his head, Ocean went on, “No, I’m here alone,” and he smiled at the man’s comment. Did he really think that was hard to believe? For a moment, Ocean just met the man’s eyes, thinking about what he wanted to say. And then with more confidence than he really felt, Ocean said, “If you stay, then I will be here with someone.”

They stood back from the colorful painting, listening. "Rainbow is a unique name." Claudio wasn't sure what Ocean meant by commune, though. Was he like their other friends, Petronella and Knox? This whole type of lifestyle was foreign to them, but they didn't press for further information, either. "Maybe it was a combination of both?" they suggested. "Subconsciously, you thought of Rainbow because of pride, so you painted something for her." That sounded right in their mind, anyway. If they had a friend they missed named Rainbow, they would certain think of them whenever the Pride flags came out.

When he heard Claudio’s response, Ocean just smiled for a moment before laughing. “And Ocean is a totally normal name,” he replied, grinning. “A lot of people on the commune have different names like that. My siblings are Sunshine, Forest, Rain, and Coral, my parents are Skye and River, and there are people on the commune with names like Strawberry and Aura. But then some people have more typical names. Our neighbor is named John, and another of my parents’ friends is named Mary. So there’s a mix of names.” Even talking about this made Ocean miss the commune. Shrugging, he said, “Yeah, maybe it was both. I don’t know if I’ll ever give this to her though.”

“You don’t have to,” Ocean replied. “I can do it myself. I thought it might just be fun to paint some of it together. You can even keep what you paint if you want.” Ocean still wasn’t sure he was taking any of this to the market, but even if he was, he had plenty. “We don’t have to though,” Ocean said. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

They left their things on the table, and followed Ocean to the basement. Claudio paused at the top of the stairs, watching the other man head down the steps. A wild and fleeting thought passing through their mind of what if this was all some carefully cultivated act? What if Ocean was actually this cunning psychopath whose intention had been to lure them down to the basement this entire time? The two hadn't known each other that long! At least they had their knife, carefully tucked into their pants leg. One they had started carrying years ago, while they hitchhiked everywhere, just in case.

Intuition said Ocean was exactly who he presented himself to be. But Claudio hesitated all the same, for a couple of seconds, before they followed down the steps. The basement actually looked a bit more lived in and used then the rest of the place, though they weren't a big fan of yet another door to go through in case they had to run away. Thankfully, that paranoia slipped away, as their head popped inside first to see that Ocean did, in fact, have an entire room apparently dedicated to sculptures, pottery, and even paintings. He wasn't a psychopath at all, but an artist. "Ooh, wow," Claude exhaled in surprise, eyes wide, as they crept further into the room with a growing smile. "You did all of this yourself?" They looked over at Ocean in open amazement. "This is insane." In a good way, of course.

A few moments later, Ocean joined Claudio at the painting. “I see why you would think that,” Ocean said, “but no. I have a friend on the commune named Rainbow, and I miss her. So I made this because I thought it might help.” It didn’t though - Ocean still missed his friend and everyone else there, especially his family. “Or maybe I was thinking of Pride,” Ocean wondered. “We never celebrated it on the commune. Every month on the commune was Pride, was black history and women’s history month, all of that. We didn’t need a specific month to celebrate everyone.” Ocean knew that might have sounded hard to believe, but it was true. “I mostly paint in abstract,” Ocean said, “which is kind of funny because my sculptures are so literal.” They were opposite in a lot of ways. Blushing at Claudio’s words, Ocean shook his head. “I’m not that good. I’m alright.” That was an improvement though - not long ago, Ocean would have said he was terrible. 

Daniel sat at a table by himself with a breakfast of little muffins and a coffee that was more cream and sugar than caffeine. He set down his cup of coffee after a satisfying sip and popped an entire mini muffin into his mouth. Daniel was mid-chew when he spotted them. His eyes widened and he waved his hand frantically to get their attention. Swallowing his muffin, Daniel pointed and choked out the words. “Your shoe’s untied.”

"Okay, but that's amazing that most of your students are so invested. You never know with elective classes. I feel like when I was in school it was hit or miss. Sometimes with the teachers too though. it was obvious who wanted to be there and who didn't. I'm sure your kids appreciate you and the love you have for the subject. And I know art and libraries don't always go hand in hand, but we do have a huge art section of non-fiction books. So I'm sure there is a way to tie it in if you really wanted to." Landon definitely was far from any kind of trainer, but he liked the idea of having a gym buddy. Someone to chat with between reps, or hold the other accountable. Not that Landon had much trouble convincing himself to go workout, but still. "I agree! We definitely can do that. I just like to stay busy, you know? Sometimes being active like that keeps my mind from going off onto all these tangents." In other words, he didn't like to give himself the freedom to think too much or let his mind wander. It usually took him into difficult topics.

Landon too hated that Ocean's ex had this power over him. He wasn't sure how to break it either; that wasn't something that easily dissipated. "So he was judging your art and your looks? First off, the guy needs to have his eyes checked. Secondly, I hope he doesn't, and that he drives off a cliff." Landon winced as he said it, but he hated narcissists. "Sorry, but he's an asshole. I know it's easier said than done to ignore that, but I hope you can. Have you..." Landon paused, biting his lip. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want, but have you ever considered counseling, or therapy? It might be something that would help." Says the guy that evaded it intensely, even when his own mother passed away. "Oh! Benji was an old show. I think from like the 70's or 80's. Kind of like Lassie, if I remember correctly. I used to watch re-runs with my mom. You know, I might. If I can't find his owners. I'd love to keep him," he admitted, softly. "But if he belongs to someone I'd never take him away, either."

He smiled softly at Landon’s words. “They do seem to like my classes, yeah,” Ocean replied, feeling good about that now that he was seeing it from Landon’s perspective. “I think the teacher caring about the subject they teach is the most important thing. If they don’t care, why should the students?” That felt especially true when it came to the arts in Ocean’s opinion. “You’re right,” Ocean said. “There are a lot of books on art history and things like that. And plus they might like to just get out of the school for a bit.” Plus it would mean he could see Landon, maybe impress him a little (Ocean ignored the voice that said he wouldn’t, that he’d just make a fool of himself). Nodding, Ocean agreed, “Yeah, me too. The voices in my head are really loud, and if I’m running until I can’t feel my legs, then it’s easier to quiet them down. Or whatever it is I’m doing. But…I’d like that.” He blushed a little once more, smiling a bit shyly at Landon. He couldn’t deny he had a little crush, but Ocean didn’t plan to pursue it, feeling there would be no point. 

Telling Landon about Aaron had been so scary, but Landon responded kindly and compassionately, which helped Ocean feel a little better about it. “Yeah,” Ocean confirmed. “He used to tell me how mediocre my art was - that was when he was in a good mood, otherwise he’d tell me it sucked. And he used to talk about all the things I needed to change about how I look, like my body. I needed to be leaner, more toned. I needed to be hotter to keep him interested, and I tried. I hate that I tried, but I did.” Ocean heard his voice shaking a little, and he paused, taking a deep breath. It helped that Landon felt so angry at Aaron for how he had treated him, and that made Ocean smile. “He would never drive off a cliff because he’s such a good driver,” Ocean replied, but he was being sarcastic for a change, rolling his eyes. “He’s so good at everything, don’t you know.” Even now, it felt strange to criticize Aaron, but it also felt liberating. Thinking about something Landon had said, Ocean asked the man, “Do you really think he needs to get his eyes checked?” He blushed as he asked this, smiling softly. 

“I kind of hope you don’t find them so you can get a new pet,” Ocean admitted. “But I just hope he’s happy where he ends up. Maybe we can watch it sometime?” It was out of character for Ocean to suggest even more time together, but it felt right; he felt very comfortable with Landon right now. “And maybe after we find the owner, we can go back to my house for a little bit,” he suggested before he could stop himself. 

Only, they couldn't imagine Ocean had ever done anything as hurtful to their ex as Claude had. The man behaved as if he wouldn't harm a fly. Skittish, shy, and quiet. Stuck in his own mind, beating himself up with the ghost of someone else's voice.

Claudio had suspected Ocean wouldn't feel like dancing anymore. He had kept interrupting at every little chance, just to drag out the moment and delay it further. They wondered if he had even noticed he had, or if it'd been instinctual, a self-preservation tactic trying to avoid something that would inherently make him feel too put on the spot. Even if it was with just Claude present. "It's okay, really," they smiled, putting their phone away, "we don't have to dance today." Maybe one day. "Let me know if you ever do decide, I'll be here," they promised, crossing their heart and blowing a kiss to the sky, too. You weren't supposed to break promises made before God.

It was scary to show Claudio his artwork too, but Ocean was feeling a little better about that now that he was more comfortable with his friend. Claudio wouldn’t judge him no matter how mediocre his work was. “I don’t know if I’m going to try and sell any of it, so it doesn’t have to be perfect,” he told the other. “This way.” Ocean led Claudio to the basement stairs and down them. The basement was finished and nicer than most, and he led Claudio to another door. Opening it to reveal a large room full of paintings, sculptures, and pottery, Ocean said, “Well…this is it.” For a moment, he looked at Claudio uncertainly, hesitating a bit, but then Ocean said, “You can look around if you want to.”

After the heaviness of their conversation, Ocean replied, "I'm not really feeling like dancing anymore. I'm sorry to be a downer." This was something Ocean was going to want to do eventually, but not didn't feel like the right time. "Can we dance another time? Would that be okay?" he asked Claudio gently. "I don't want to be done hanging out, but...maybe we can find something else to do?" Ocean thought about it, and an idea came to him, though it would mean showing Claudio more of his private self. But he felt okay about that. "Do you want to help me paint some of the pieces of pottery I made?" he asked. "They're things I made for my family back home."

"I'm not just saying that. I don't lie about this kind of stuff." Watching as he picked up the little piece. "Hm..blue, purple and maybe a dash of yellow."

Ocean looked at Saffron's choice, already imagining the color scheme. But then he had an idea. "Do you want to paint it yourself? We could do that now. I could work on another one, and I could give you pointers. Teaching art is my primary job, after all." That doesn't mean you're good at it, he thought, but that was another thing he didn't say out loud.

Claude's stare softened. This poor man! How could they not emphasize, when they had similar experience and knowledge to understand what Ocean may have gone through. Maybe not carbon copies, but they had family that othered them, too. Made them doubt and question themselves, feel wrong about themselves. All because they sometimes felt the best when they got to paint their face pretty, or wear something that made them feel feminine. Or because they, too, had proclivity towards other men, which was nothing short of sinful. They even knew what lashings felt like, having remnants and scars leftover in places people couldn't see. This, naturally, made them feel quite a bit for Ocean, and a need to offset whatever damage this Aaron person had done. Easier said than done, of course. Trauma was not something that could just be brushed aside because Claudio told it to shut up.

Ocean was already feeling self-conscious about everything he was telling Claudio. This wasn’t what he’d incited the other over for, and they were probably thinking the same thing, that they’d just come over to dance and now Ocean was trauma dumping on them. But he stopped that line of thinking before it could take off, not because he didn’t believe it but because Ocean was trying not to put words and thoughts into other people’s mouths and minds. Even so, Ocean didn’t know how to stop thinking that, to stop fearing it. No one really cares about how you feel, the voice whispered. You’re just a boring waste of time. But he tried to push the thought away because it would only make him close down, and he wanted to stay open for Claudio. 

When he was finished, his face was burning, his heart racing. It was pounding so hard he swore it would pound right out of his chest. Was Claudio about to leave? Ocean wouldn’t blame him. But then his friend did something unexpected: he stayed. His heart nearly broke because of Claudio’s empathy and kindness, but it was the good kind of break, like it had been cracked for a long time and finally felt safe to shop holding it together so desperately. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ocean said, “Everything feels so hard now. I’ve always been shy and reserved, but…not like this. And I can’t keep his voice - which feels more and more like my voice - out of my head.” At Claudio’s comment, Ocean felt his chest tighten at the memories of what Aaron had said and done. “He said a lot of things,” Ocean whispered. “And he did a lot of things.” As he said this, Ocean’s hand moved to his cheek, as if a reflex at the memory of one of the things Aaron had done. But Ocean didn’t elaborate.

her brows lifted when he admitted he was awkward, and she laughed despite herself. “okay, well, points for self-awareness.” then, at the ghost comment, she stared at him for a beat. “you know what? i’m not even going to unpack that right now.”

emily’s smile widened. “uh-huh. sure. you’re paying.” she started walking back toward the ice cream with him, still holding her own dessert like a prize she had bravely rescued from danger. “my favorite ice cream flavor is probably cookie dough,” she said. “or mint chocolate chip if i’m feeling controversial.” she glanced over at him, amused. “and you? please don’t say something unsettling like black licorice.”

Ocean did feel a little better that Emily wasn't going to be paying for his ice cream. It had been his own fault he'd dropped it anyway. Walking together back toward the ice cream shoppe, Ocean learned that Emily was a woman of taste. "I don't like mint flavored things other than...well, mints," Ocean replied, "but I do like cookie dough ice cream. But they have to make sure they keep the ratio of chocolate chips to cookie dough chunks in check. If I wanted ice cream where all I could taste was chocolate, I'd...well, get chocolate." Ocean was a man with strong opinions about ice cream. Making a look of disgust, Ocean was affronted at the very notion of black licorice ice cream. "Is that a real flavor?" he asked, unsettled at the thought. "Black licorice is my second least favorite food, so no," he went on. "Mine is strawberry. We make it homemade on the commune, grow the strawberries too."

Taking a stroll around the room she eyed the different artwork. He wanted honesty. Then spotting a ceramic piece. "This one." Pointing to it. It was small but big enough for a spot in her kitchen if she were to buy it.

When Saffron picked a piece, Ocean asked, "Really? You're not just saying that, right?" But he doubted Saffron would lie about that. So Ocean picked it up. "I still need to paint it, but you can pick the colors. And then it's yours...a gift," he told Saffron, blushing slightly.

she glanced at his face—how red he was, how small he looked suddenly—and it made her stomach twist. emily knew that look. she knew the spiral behind it. “hey,” she said, quieter. “i’m not going to yell at you.” she swallowed and tried to offer him something steadier than her earlier sharpness. “i’m sorry i did last time. i was protecting people i love and i didn’t stop to think about how i sounded. you didn’t deserve to be my stress target.”

her eyes flicked to his ruined cone and she huffed a tiny laugh, more fond than mocking. she tipped her cupcake up a little, like a toast. “it would be a tragedy, actually. if the dessert is in the hand that means i died before eating it. zero out of ten, would not recommend.”

When he heard Emily's remark, Ocean actually laughed, which surprised him. "A wasted dessert really is a tragedy," he agreed with a grin. Ocean was an avowed dessert lover. And then he laughed again at her next comment, immediately replying, "Well...I'm awkward." He thought that was clear already, but he said it anyway. "I probably wouldn't have run if I'd seen a ghost," Ocean admitted. "Most of them are harmless, and the ones who aren't, well...running wouldn't do much good." Although he chuckled, Ocean wasn't kidding. "I would have run from a murderer though, but I doubt they'd strike on a busy street during the day." Ocean worried he was going to offend Emily with his jokes, so he stopped laughing, offering what he hoped was a friendly smile.

Shaking his head, Ocean protested, "It's okay, you really don't have to." But then his stomach grumbled, and he knew it was pretty clear how hungry he was. "Yeah, alright," he agreed. "But I'm going to pay. It's not your fault I dropped it." The pair began walking back in that direction, and Ocean didn't want the silence to get awkward, so he asked, "What's your favorite ice cream flavor?" He felt like you could tell a lot about a person by how they answered.