Not dead yet

Maxen didn’t know what came over him and he found himself unable to regain control and it wasn’t until he felt Stephen’s arms around him that he stopped struggling and hitting and wrapped his own arms around him. His face buried deep into his neck an he cried openly into it. He was in pain, a lot of it, and it came out with each blow he gave his husband. Both of his hands clung to the sweat and dirt covered back, knuckles red and bleeding. Everything from the split skin on his hands, the blow to his stomach and the pain in his heart felt too much for him and he said, basically pleading, “Don’t leave me again. Please don’t leave me again. I don’t think I can handle it happening. Not again.” He knew how it sounded and he wanted to be vulnerable. Open. He wanted this man to know just how much he broke him when he disappeared.

What Maxen wanted unfolded and he panted hard while his hands hurt like hell from the blows. Stephen spoke the truth and he knew there was sense behind those words but it didn’t help with how betrayed he felt. And then…then the punch came and it knocked the air out of him so fast that he had to gasp and cough at the same time while he laid a hand on his knee. While he regained his breathing, bowed slightly, he looked up at Stephen and then, without notice, he lunged for him and tackled him to the ground. Maxen didn’t feel himself and as they thudded to the dirt he tried to get on top of him to issue another blow. “Cushy? You call worry about you every fucking day and mourning you at the same time as cushy. I felt dead without you, Angelo Dead! Nobody could get me to do anything and I ran that bar because it was the only thing I had to remember you by. The bar. The trailer. The damn cat. That is all I had of you. I had to leave Havenoaks because it hurt too much and I couldn’t go on living there. An-an-and he-” he was breaking up with his words and breathing and he kept waiting for another hit to come but he couldn’t see straight and wanted to just go back to a time where nothing like this would have happened to them.

As soon as the punch landed Maxen watched the love of his life dropped on the ground and stare up at him. He breathed hard and he immediatly wanted to help him up but that would defeat the purpose of this. Maxen watched as he rose to his feet and instead of apologizing or saying something to help ease his anger Stephen went for a taunt and Maxen found that the anger needed to remain. It needed to fester and make itself known. Instead of speaking he went up to the man, a man he’d seen as the only person capable of capturing his heart, and he punched him again, this time with his left hand. This hit Stephen in the stomach before he gave him a right hook to the jaw. It went fast, much like when he practiced with the bag and he grunted and made a noise that sounded very much unlike him. “Aren’t you going to say something? Aren’t you going to hit me back and tell me that I have no place to be mad at you?” He spat out at him, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. 

This wasn’t what he intended to do during their trip but as soon as Stephen neared him Maxen felt that hitch in his chest and he took in a deep breath to try to ease the weight. It didn’t help and he balled his fists. Maxen nodded. “You know how much I love you, Stephen. I told you before that if you’re to leave to take me. I want to be with you. I don’t know what you’ve been through. It’s impossible to tell me ten year’s worth of things but I missed out on those ten years and I am angry at you about it. Not because you abandoned me but because I wasn’t there when I should have been.” He brought his fist up and hit him in the chest. Hard. The knuckles connecting with the skin felt odd but there was a sense of relief which came from the impact.

This wasn’t planned out but it was more about the spur of the moment resolution than something they needed to go into some discussion about. Maxen stared at the gloves and he started to take them off. “I think with this it might better for both of us to go in without the padding. It’ll hurt but it’s supposed to.” This wasn’t like him but he needed that release and maybe after a few good hits in they’ll be fine. He wanted them to be fine. The gloves went down and he stood in front of his estranged husband, a man who he loved more than himself. The man who hurt him in a way he prayed he’ll be able to get over because he wanted them to resume what they had planned years ago. He took a breath and went ahead and peeled his shirt off before he neared Stephen. “If you think this is a bad idea then we’ll go get the other pair of gloves.”

When gloves came out Maxen looked at them. Surprised. The explanation made sense and he took them from Stephen. He never struck his husband before but he thought it might help. There was pent up anger and if this can release it then they can start to get back to where they were. If it was possible to. “I’ll put them on.” He said and pulled one glove on then, with some practiced procedure he pulled the other. He didn’t lace the but they felt snug on his hands. Maxen looked at the gloves then to Stephen. “Do you plan to hit back?” He stood in front of his husband, glad they weren’t close to the fire. He thought of that anger which sat on his heart; weighing him down completely. “There must be something inside you, too. Some anger. Might not be at me but what tore us apart.” As much as he wanted to hit him he couldn’t do it without Stephen hitting him back, too.

Maxen held his plate with both hands and considered what Stephen proposed. It would help with his budding anger and he felt he needed to release it. It would be good to focus it on the one person who he thought would be there for him; that understood how important it was to keep him in the loop with what’s happening instead of leaving him and making him think he was dead. The reasonings behind his departure were rational and he understood the importance with shutting him out that way; as it was for his very own safety. But it didn’t rid the abandonment sensation. 

He didn’t say anything but the sudden loss of appetite had him set his plate to the side and he picked up his bottle. Maxen stood and walked away, keeping his back to Stephen while he looked straight ahead into the woods. There was nothing around for miles and he liked how isolated they were. Maxen drank slowly and thought again about the suggestion. “Okay.” he said at last and tipped back his back once more to empty it into his mouth. He swallowed it and went to the small bag he used for recycling. While there he looked to Stephen and said. “Lets do this because I do have a lot of anger towards you and I don’t want to feel it anymore. It’s suffocating me.”

They were about to get into comfortable conversation and Maxen thought about how easy it could be. To set aside the hurt and just have this time with his husband as if it was the way it used to be and there hadn’t been a ten year gap. “With how strained things feel between us, I think it’s good you like this.” He said eating the fish now and thinking about his words. “I like it, too.” He chewed on his food and looked to his husband. “I missed you.” he didn’t want to open himself up to vulnerability but when it came to Stephen his heart still belonged to the man. “Fine. As fine as it can be. He’s busy with work all the time and tries to see Rowan and I but we’re not close. I’m closer to my mom who still lives in France. She couldn’t get herself to come back.” He ate another bite and leaned back against the log to stare into the fire. “Sometimes I’d think about everything we’ve done together and it made me wish I could go back and relive it.” He spoke these words slowly, as if he wanted to savor them in some sense. “Do you think we’ll be able to get back to how things were?” There was a soft sadness to his tone, one which carried into the expression he wore as he finally looked at his husband once more.

When they’d camp in the past, one of them would be close to the other while they spent time next to the fire; especially after dinner. The fish they caught earlier in the day sizzled in the cast iron frying pan and Maxen stared at it while he sipped at his beer. He’d been lost in thought throughout most of their time together because there was the obvious conflict with whether to forgive and forget or to allow the anger which simmered underneath the surface to come out.

Since Stephen return Maxen bruised his knuckles at the gym, issuing such hard wallops to the punching bag; opting for bare fist instead of gloves. It wasn’t smart of him and there were traces of those bruises still but with how dark it was he didn’t think Stephen would notice them too much, if he hadn’t before. 

Drinking in silence he moved the pan away from the flames, using a mitt to keep from burning his hand, and he served each of them their own fish with the potatoes he packed for the trip. Maxen walked over with both plates and he handed one to Stephen before he sat next to him on the log. “Can you believe we’re back to this place?” He asked, breaking the silence at last, using a fork to tear into the crunchy texture of the fried fish. It was still too hot to eat, the steam wafted into his face. “I came here a couple months ago to see my dad. He’s still living on his own.” He said. His mother never returned from France. She started a life with another man who had two small children to occupy her time with.

When Stephen spoke of meeting his father Maxen looked at him with such surprise that even he didn’t know how to process it. He knew that it would be inevitable and Stephen met his father on numerous occasions but he didn’t actually expected to see him. “I want to get a chance to introduce myself and talk to him but maybe we should wait until things are better between us. It’ll be too much happening at one time.” He hated how overwhelmed he was with all that took place in the past week and needed to attempt a semblance of control of the situation. “I work at a small garage on the weekends here in Portland. It’s a father and son operation but I help get them through their workload on the harder projects. We can go on next Monday if that’s okay. Camp out and stick around for the 4th of July?”

Maxen wanted to believe this. Stephen never lied to him before and warned him of the potential of packing up and going but it stung. It stung bad. But he couldn’t fault him for deceit. It was never about that. His dark eyes stayed on Stephen and he felt himself relax. Not completely but enough where he didn’t feel as if he had a hard piece of wood plastered to his back. “I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Picking up where we left off won’t be easy but at least we’re in the same room. Talking.” Maxen continued to hold his hand and found himself not wanting to let go. “Do you want to head to Havenoaks at some point so I can show you the bar?” If things got back to the way they were Maxen didn’t know if he’d actually want to return to the small town, that getting out did some good for him as he’d never left before. 

Maxen held Stephen’s hand, an act he thought was long gone, and he stared at them. Fingers interlaced and different. More scars. More rugged. These were the same two hands which connected them together while they walked the street, sat on the couch, or made love. These very hands belonged to two men who swore they’d love each other until their dying breath. Now…now those promises were put to the test and Maxen tightened his grip on that very hand and closed his eyes in hope this would help rid the intrusive thoughts which reminded him how Stephen left. How he left him in the middle of the night. That no explanation, no matter how valid it was, could ever have him regain his trust in him. “Is that a promise you can keep?” he asked, eyes not on him. He couldn’t raise them above their matching bands with practically melded together in that instance. 

“You left but you explained your absence and I’m having difficulty being okay with it.” He said as soon as Stephen spoke, not wasting a second to get it out. “Those sorry excuses included time spent in jail and reuniting with your father.” He reminded him with a soft voice, eye on the top of his bottle. He leaned back and kept quiet now, the offer to leave him and the life they started many years ago behind on the table. He tore his eyes away a droplet of water which slipped down the bottle’s side and rose to his husband. “If I wanted that option I never would have showed.” He said, voice low. Almost emotionless. Maxen breathed in deep and leaned forward again and reached across the table to take Stephen’s hand, which had the bottle’s label in it. “I’m here because I want to try to get back what we once had.”

The words. The picture. These were unexpected surprises and Maxen looked at what Stephen kept on him. The picture was in near tatters and there were white cracks which spread through the entire photograph to show it’d gone through numerous foldings. He stopped moving the bottle within his hands and stared down at it. Maxen swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bouncing, and he felt such a dryness in his throat even minutes after he had his beer. “I feel like an asshole.” he said at last, the statement one he didn’t intend to say. “I’ve been furious, Stephen. To the point I didn’t think I want to see you again after our run in. Now you tell me this and I feel as if I’ve behaved selfishly.”

Maxen turned in his seat and faced Stephen, bottle nestled between both his hands while Stephen fidgeted around with his. This wasn’t something he’s done before. Not with him around at least, and Maxen picked up this was nerves. Why wouldn’t he be nervous? They weren’t in a stable place right now with their relationship. “Does your dad know I’m here?” he asked, rolling the bottle between both hands. “With all honesty? Not well. I’ve been back and forth with how to approach you again. I went to our property and camped out in a tent for a few days to gain some perspective. That’s why I look the way I do.”

The bottle felt cold in his hot hand and it wasn’t until then that he realized he’d been sweating all this time. He brought the bottle to his lips and took a long drink of the cold beer, not stopping until half was gone. After he lowered the bottle and licked his lips he looked towards the area where the rooms were. “IS your dad home right now?” He didn’t know if they had to keep their voices down or if his voice knew much when it came to him. Maxen went to the kitchen area and took a seat in a chair and set the bottle on his knee. This wasn’t his home but he didn’t think Stephen wanted to keep standing around.