#undrowns

Sometimes when he’s out on the street, he looks for her. The back of a short dark-haired woman. Red lipstick on another woman’s lips- Calum can’t help it. Can’t help but let his heart speed up because maybe this was all just one terrible dream he’s having. She’s out there and he just has to find her.

( He’ll always look to her, Calum realizes. He did it in the past, why should it be any different now. )

And then he realizes it’s not her. The hope gets squashed as the numbness returns, even more pronounced than before.

He learns quickly if it’s not for work, groceries, or for taking Erza to daycare, it’s better to stay at home. But then again, their ( but now it’s just his ) apartment doesn’t serve much better as refuge, not when every corner, every space is filled to the brim with memories. In the future, he’ll take comfort in them, but right now? They’re needles carelessly pricked into the arm, like the first time he tried inserting a needle into the vein of a human dummy. He kept on missing and his rotation instructor reminded the class it hurts the patient more if you don’t prick the vein on the first try.

The only place in the entire apartment he’s safe from the memories is the bed when he’s sleeping. At least when he’s sleeping he doesn’t have to think about her, the memories, the fact she’s not here, she’s not anywhere to be found, and it’s his fault, it’s all his fault-

But these days, even when Calum’s not sleeping, he spends most of his time in bed anyway. It’s been harder again, these days, doing just about anything, including getting out of bed, taking a shower, brushing his teeth. The dishes have started to pile in the sink too and he knows this is how it’s getting bad again, his depression and he needs to pull himself together. Erza needs him and it shouldn’t have to take Erza telling him he’s hungry for Calum to finally summon the energy to get out of bed.

The thing is, he’s starting to care less. Less and less.

It scares him.

So it was a miracle then, that he managed to open the door for Jet Chiang. He doesn’t actually know much about him, save from the anecdotes that Tida has dropped on him. Technically, Calum could’ve asked Keo for a more accurate understanding, but he never got around too. Not one to poke around at what is obviously a sore spot for Tida. Calum has more than enough of his own anyways.

He vaguely recalled seeing him at her funeral too. Jet had been dressed a tad more casually than the rest of the attendees. He was dressed the same way in front of Calum’s doors and this time, Calum really couldn’t gloss over the scarring all over his arms but more of the fact, his arms are…toned. The tight shirt Jet wore left little to the imagination either. For a moment, Calum blinked owlishly. He felt the blood rush to below his waist before he swallowed. Chastising himself for so many reasons- thinking with his dick for a moment there, noticing that his friend’s ( negligent ) dad, but more importantly someone else who is not Mana, is attractive, looking slovenly for a guest, and so many other reasons-

He rubbed one side of his face, the whiskers prick his palms. He hasn’t shaved in a few days either. “Can you…can you give me a few minutes?”

A few minutes turned into something more like fifteen with Calum stumbling around the apartment picking up empty ( water ) bottles, Erza’s toys and dishes and washing some of the dirty ones, never mind the days’ old food bits gathering in the drain, before finally pulling on clothing that doesn’t reek, combing his hair and brushing his teeth.

He didn’t have the time to shave though.

Not that, he thought Jet would actually notice, let alone care about how he looked or how the rest of the apartment looked.  Jet said something along the lines of figuring he should check in on Calum and also how is he doing? Calum smiled, or at least the best he can. This isn’t the first time he’s been asked such words.

“I’m okay,” Calum told him. “Do you, I mean would you like anything to uh, drink?”

Jet asked for a beer, which interestingly though, Calum happened to have one or two of. He doesn’t drink much to begin with these days and Mana always preferred a wine although they had seldom pulled that out with Erza in the picture.

And then Jet finally got down to the crux of his visit. Or at least that Calum assumes it’s supposed to be.

Calum knew from word of mouth that Jet too, lost his wife. An inference made when Tida once mentioned offhandedly his mom died when was younger. But then Jet gives him the full story although their marriages couldn't be possibly more different, it all boils down to the same set of emotions: grief, longing, and guilt. Wondering why the people around them keep dying or suffering, if it’s their fault for existing in the first place. Guilt that maybe, just maybe if they weren’t around, their wives would be…alive. Maybe a little unhappier, but alive nevertheless.

Better alive than this…suffering. And for what reason?

Voicing them if only through mere agreement doesn’t make the thoughts any easier to carry. And yet, he can’t help but find comfort in that he isn’t the only one whom these thoughts plague.

( A pang of guilt twinged in his chest though- of all the people who would understand, why does it have to be Jet? Why does it have to be Tida’s father when Tida is the one who has been giving support without Calum asking- Tida with his hovering. Tida with his seemingly endless supply of tissues and water. Tida and the way he strangely has stayed in one spot for this past month even though Calum knows he’s restless by nature, not one to stay in one place for long. Doesn’t he have his own grief to deal with? And about his wife’s grief and Keo’s- )

This is why then, when Jet kisses him, Calum lets him. It’s a shock at first- the last person he’s kissed this way was his wife- but then he can’t help but lean into it, moaning when Jet bites down on his lip for entrance because it’s something different. Something different from the all-consuming numbness that he knows will return once Jet leaves.

As they stumble into his room, Calum working to undo the belt around Jet’s waist and Jet ripping through the buttons of Calum’s shirt, something in the back of his mind protests. What is Tida going to think?

Jet pushes Calum down on his bed ( the bed he shared with her – what kind of husband is he, inviting a stranger into his bed, only a month following her passing? He can’t help but picture her frowning, angry even, watching from the afterlife- ) and next thing Calum is aware, he’s facedown against his sheets as Jet fucks into him, hips slamming against his behind over and over again at a harsh pace. It’s rough, painful, and there’s nothing romantic about it, but in a way, Calum can’t help but find relief in it. Solidarity in another person. Punishment for fucking his friend’s father and someone who isn’t Mana so soon-

He lets out a shaky breath as a hand shoves him down so he’s flat against his mattress and he groans when the hand remains steady on the small of his back. Jet bites into his neck, tangling his other hand into Calum’s hair and Calum can’t help but curse as the pace picks up and the need to cum pools in his groin. He grips the sheets beneath him tighter.

He’ll worry about that later. For now, he asks whatever higher being is watching, just let him have this.

Please.

.

.