¤ LONGLISTED IN THE OPEN NOVELLA CONTEST 2022 ¤
// COMPLETE
- stand-alone sequel to featherlight -
Chase Collins steps onto a late night train, his last in the city before he moves to a new state with a job promotion.
What he doesn't expect, how...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chase holds Kyle until the sobs subside and the heaving of Kyle's back under his palm slows. He finally forgives Kyle for everything that he could have been holding against him until now because he understands. He comprehends, now, that life and time can get in the way and that mistakes will be made no matter how hard you try to be perfect. It's not so much about trying to cling on to one another as it is about swimming back after the tides rip you apart.
He feels Kyle raise a hand to rub his face. "God, I'm so sorry," he says. His voice is raspy and raw. He sniffles wetly.
Chase doesn't know whether he's apologizing for the dampness of Chase's jacket or something else. "Don't say sorry, Kyle," he says softly. "It's okay. Really. And I'm sorry for what I said." He gives Kyle a reassuring pat on the back then draws back a little, relinquishing his hold so he can see Kyle's face. "Are you alright?"
Kyle fishes through his pockets to find a pack of tissues. His eyes are bloodshot and puffed. He gives a small laugh as he takes a tissue out and wipes his face with it. Scrunching it up and putting it in his shirt pocket, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "I am now." He stays like that for a while with his eyes closed and Chase waits, letting him have his silence. "I'm going to have a killer headache," Kyle says at last. "Do you get headaches after you bawl, too?"
Chase goes to pick up his IKEA bag and looks at the card- Good luck, Chase!- flapping feebly in the light wind. How long ago this morning seems. "Almost always," he answers, loosening his tie, and then before he can give it a second thought the words are falling out of his mouth: "Hey, do you want to crash at my place? Would it be easier for you than to go all the way back home?"
"Are you- are you sure? You're probably busy packing, right?" Kyle takes the tissue back out and touches it to his nose, which is reddened from the cold. "If you have a couch."
"If you don't mind the couch," Chase says. "Of course you can stay. You can always stay."
"Like the old times?" Kyle asks. And the way he says it is enough to make Chase's chest expand like a fucking hot air balloon. The streetlights glint off the tear-tracks on his cheeks.
"Like the old times," Chase confirms. He smiles - properly smiles- so hard that his cheeks physically hurt and he can feel the skin on his chapped lips protest. "Like the old times, bro."
Because Chase realizes, in a dizzying and exhilarating epiphany that Archimedes jumping out of his bathtub and running naked down the street has nothing on, that's who Kyle is: his brother. His family. Kyle Rivera is more his family than those cousins and those aunts and those uncles. His smile says more than the Christmas cards stuffed somewhere in cardboard boxes which sit in his living room right now. He knows Chase better than any of them do.
And with that knowledge coursing through his body, Chase turns and begins walking further down the street, knowing that Kyle will follow him. A blanket of silence settles over them, enveloping Chase in its warmth. He has no idea when he will next walk down these sidewalks again and wonders which streets of Ohio will become familiar and comforting to him. Which coffee shops will he brave the cold to get his daily dose of caffeine? Which people will he see every morning on his way to work, learning their morning routines and the dogs they take for a walk at dawn? And above all, who will he become?
