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Gareth awoke to the stench of smoke and a resounding knock. “Fire! Get out!” a booming voice yelled.
Still half-asleep, he pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, then fumbled around for his sneakers. He found and shoved them on without bothering to lace them. The man outside his door shouted at him again to get out. “I heard ya. I’m coming,” he yelled back, grabbing his backpack. It held just about everything that was most important to him; he wasn’t going to leave without it.
By the time he made it into the hallway, the man who’d warned him to get out was standing in front of the next tenant’s door. Urgency straining his voice, which sounded hoarse by now, he woke her up with his cry of “Fire! Get out!”
Gareth thought about asking the man where the fire was but decided not to interrupt. He slipped away in the midst of the chaos caused by firefighters and police officers heading one way and the building’s residents, most of them in nightwear and some clutching pocketbooks and other belongings, hurrying to escape in the other direction.
As he sped down the stairs, he saw a little boy clutching his mother’s nightgown and holding a well-worn teddy bear tight under his other arm. Gareth wasn’t absolutely sure, but he thought he’d seen them waiting in the laundry room for their laundry to finish. He might not have bothered otherwise, but the boy looked worried, so Gareth winked at him as he hurried past. The boy smiled.
A balding police officer was stationed just outside the front door, a clipboard with a pen attached to it in his hands. “Write down your name, apartment number, and e-mail address or phone number,” he drawled in a bored voice. Someone from the crowd shouted, “What phone? The phone’s in the apartment.” He glared and said “Cell phone” as if the question was stupid. Which it probably was, but since the people milling about had been rousted out of bed unexpectedly, they could be forgiven for being confused.
Gareth stopped and wrote down his information quickly. “Where’s the fire?” he asked when he was finished.
The man with the clipboard ignored him, but another officer behind him answered, “It started on the fourth floor.” After that, she turned and listened to some unintelligible – to Gareth, at least – squawking coming from her walkie-talkie.
So it had started on the floor above Gareth’s. He hoped that meant he’d be able to return soon, sooner at least than the fourth floor residents. He silently prayed that no one had been badly hurt. He was getting cold, and it looked like he wouldn’t get any more answers if he stayed, so Gareth shouldered his pack and trudged toward Howard Street and Jonas’ apartment. Jonas had been very clear that he had other plans tonight, plans that didn’t include Gareth, but it was after three; surely he’d be home by now?
The wind swirled around Gareth’s exposed arms and made him wish he’d brought his windbreaker. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though; when he’d decided what to put on, he’d had to rush. The fire could have been as close as next door.
There was no traffic now that he was more than a block away from the building, and he crossed the side streets against the lights. It occurred to him – not for the first time, either -- that it was kinda stupid that he didn’t have a key to Jonas’ place. It didn’t matter that Jonas slept with other people; he’d known about that to begin with. He wasn’t going to get all huffy if someone else was sharing Jonas’ bed. Having a key would be something he could rely on in an emergency. And if this wasn’t an emergency, nothing was.
He made a point of breathing slow and deep as he neared the crumbling three-story building where Jonas lived. As much as he might want Jonas to trust him enough to give him a key, he hadn’t, and there was no point in getting all riled up before he even tried the buzzer.
Gareth swung open the front door, cracked glass, peeling paint and all, and leaned on the buzzer next to Jonas’ name and apartment number. After he got no response, he tried again, this time rattling the handle of the inner door as if he thought he could force it open. He probably could; he was strong enough, but he didn’t want the hassle of having to pay to fix the door if he broke it.
Rattling the door handle didn’t work, either. “Damn it,” he said angrily, stamping the floor like a toddler in order to get some of his fury out. He sighed, turned around, and headed for Stephen’s. As he walked, he thought about the irony of still having a key to his ex-lover’s apartment when he didn’t have one to his current lover’s.
He knew better than to use the key to let himself in the apartment, though. For one thing, Stephen, that trigger-happy paranoiac, might very well shoot first and ask questions later. For another, Norris was probably warming Stephen’s bed. Although he hadn’t expected Stephen to remain single after they broke up, he’d rather give them time to get dressed and pretend he hadn’t burst in on them together than have it flaunted in his face.
So he quietly turned the key in the front door and let himself in, walked up the three flights of stairs, and stood chest heaving outside the door to the apartment that used to be his and Stephen’s and now was Stephen’s alone. He knew he was invading Stephen’s privacy and potentially pissing him off, but he had no desire to argue with Stephen over the intercom and risk being refused entry. Using the key after that was farther than Gareth was willing to go.
He screwed up his courage and knocked at the door.
* * *
Norris heard the noise first and gave Stephen a gentle shove. It was his apartment and besides, Norris was trapped between him and the wall and would have to step over him to get out anyway.
Stephen groaned, rolled over, and pulled a pair of sweatpants on. Norris watched him stride to the door, pausing for a moment -- probably considering whether to get his gun or not – before yanking it open. “What the fuck do you want?” Stephen asked whoever was there.
Now that Stephen wasn’t blocking the way, Norris got out of bed too. Unlike Stephen, he wore clothes when he slept, but it was a little cool for just his boxers and t-shirt, so he put on the bathrobe hanging on the hook on the back of the bedroom door.
By the time he was just a step away from Stephen, he’d heard Gareth say “I need a place to stay for the night. An apartment in my building is on fire.”
Stephen turned to look at Norris, who shrugged. “I heard sirens a little while ago.” Stephen knew that it didn’t take much to wake Norris up.
Still, Stephen walked toward the bedroom window and craned his neck to the left, looking for flashing red and blue lights. He must have seen something to confirm what Gareth had said because when he turned around, the expression on his face, while shut down, wasn’t as unwelcoming as it had been at first.
“Sit,” he said, pointing at the couch while he rummaged in the hall closet. He emerged with a pillow, pillowcase, and sheets.
“Uh, I can curl up on the couch. Ya don’t have to put yourself out on my account.”
“I’m not putting myself out,” Stephen said. If Norris didn’t know better, he’d characterize the way Stephen said that as snippy. But since he knew that Gareth was the reason Stephen had a pull-out couch to begin with, he felt fairly confident that it was guilt that was making Stephen snappish.
“No, really,” Gareth said. “Just give me a blanket and a pillow, and I’m good.”
Silently, Stephen handed Norris the pillow and pillowcase and returned the sheets to the shelf he’d taken them from. Norris slid the pillow inside the pillowcase and handed it to Gareth, who folded it over and stuffed it under his right elbow.
Stephen sat down on the coffee table, facing Gareth. “How come you’re not at Jonas’?”
A cloud passed over Gareth’s face. “He wasn’t home,” he said shortly.
Stephen and Norris exchanged looks. They knew Jonas stepped out on his lovers. Gareth didn’t complain about it, not around them. That wasn’t much of a shock. Stephen had been the one who’d broken it off and he and Norris had gotten together shortly after that, although the one wasn’t precipitated by the other, but every so often Stephen would mutter that he wished that Gareth had found someone who valued faithfulness more than Jonas did. It was the only regret Norris ever heard him express about his and Gareth’s breakup.
“You want something to eat? Or drink?” Stephen asked. Norris had to suppress a giggle at how quickly Stephen had gone from hostile to hospitable.
“Maybe somethin’ ta drink. I wasn’t expectin’ ta walk so far.”
Stephen nodded at Norris, who knew the contents of Stephen’s kitchen better than Stephen did. Norris patted Gareth’s shoulder, and said, “Is tea all right, or do you want something stronger?”
Gareth looked up at him. Norris was glad to see that he accepted the pat as a show of concern. “Tea’s fine with me.” He hesitated. “Is it decaf?”
Norris took a quick look through the cupboard, careful to say “There isn’t any” instead of “We don’t have any.” He spent a lot of time here, but it was Stephen’s apartment, not his, and he was reluctant make a claim like that in front of Gareth. He didn’t think Stephen cared, but it was better not to say something like that in front of him, either. “Is that a problem?”
Gareth shrugged. “Nah,” he said.
Norris ran water into the teakettle and put it on the stove to boil. He was just about to take a beer out of the refrigerator and hand it to Stephen when Stephen got to his feet and did it himself. The sound of the tab popping and the foam hissing was unnaturally loud.
Norris turned back toward the cupboards and took down two clean mugs. Figuring that the loose jasmine tea that Stephen liked but would never bother to buy for himself would be lost on Gareth, he took out two standard teabags. “Do you take anything in your tea?”
Even before Gareth could say “A little sugar,” Stephen had left his bottle of beer on the counter and headed for sugar bowl on the kitchen table, which he put on the coffee table in front of Gareth.
Stephen picked up his beer again. Gareth looked down at his hands, and Norris watched the kettle as the steam built up. He shut the burner off just as the kettle started whistling, before it became annoyingly shrill. “How do you like your tea brewed?” he asked.
“Huh?” Gareth said, as if startled out of his thoughts.
“Strong? Weak? In between?”
“Oh.” Gareth considered this for a moment. “Medium, I guess,” he said. “I usually let it steep a long time, but that might not be a good idea if I wanna get to sleep.”
Norris dropped the teabag in the mug, let it steep, then showed it to Gareth. “Good enough?”
Gareth nodded and took the warm mug from Norris’ hands after taking the teabag out. “Here,” Norris said, handing over a spoon and a coaster.
“Thanks,” Gareth said, lifting the mug in a sort of salute before stirring in a spoonful of sugar.
Norris caught Stephen’s eye. He’d been slouched against the kitchen table, looking as if he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on between Norris and Gareth, but Norris knew better. Norris felt the back of his neck flush and hoped that Gareth was too busy sipping his tea to notice how hungrily Stephen was staring at Norris.
“Go to bed,” Stephen said. “I can take it from here.”
Wordlessly, Norris examined his face, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind. Sometimes Stephen was worryingly opaque, even to him. Stephen stared back, and Norris gave it up as a bad job. “Good night,” he said, lightly touching Gareth on the shoulder as he walked by. He saw no need to say good night to Stephen since he’d see him when he came to bed.
When he turned back just before closing the door to the bedroom, he saw Stephen sitting next to Gareth, one arm stretched behind Gareth’s head and the other tipping the bottle of beer toward his mouth. Since he wasn’t jealous by nature and had met Gareth long before he met Stephen – he’d been a teaching assistant for one of Gareth’s classes, something for which he still felt unaccountably guilty – he closed the door and thought no more of it.
* * *
Stephen set his bottle of beer on the coffee table without regard to whether there was a coaster there to protect what finish was left. “Do you need money?” he asked.
“Nah,” Gareth said between sips of tea, pointing to the backpack he’d left by the door. “I’ve got my wallet. Thanks for asking, though.”
Stephen grunted and took another swig of beer. He held the bottle in his hand for a minute, put it down, and angled himself toward Gareth. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Dunno. I didn’t see anyone taken out on a stretcher, but the fire started on the floor above me, so I couldn't tell. When I left, the police and firefighters were headed in the other direction.”
Stephen nodded. He leaned forward to retrieve the bottle, but just before picking it up again, he mumbled, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Gareth smiled. “Me too.”
They sat there for several minutes, drinking, until Gareth put his mug down, wiped his face, and said, “Ya got nothin’ to feel bad about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It was my choice to hook up with Jonas. I knew he wasn’t a one-person kinda guy to begin with.”
Stephen nodded and took another mouthful from his bottle, which was almost empty. Gareth sank lower into the couch. As soon as Stephen was convinced that Gareth was asleep, he slowly started combing his fingers through Gareth’s unruly brown hair.
Once Gareth’s head hit his shoulder, Stephen cradled it in his hands before tipping him over onto the pillow. He retrieved a blanket from the closet and draped it over Gareth. Pressing a chaste kiss to Gareth’s forehead, he whispered, “Good night,” and walked into the bedroom. His bedroom.
Norris was already asleep; Stephen slid into bed next to him, leaving the sweatpants on even though he knew he’d soon be too warm. He had no choice, really, as he had to pass through the living room in order to get to the bathroom, and even he knew not to walk around naked in front of his ex. If it didn't give Gareth the wrong idea, it would upset Norris. He might already have shown Gareth more affection than he should, given that they’d been separated for more than a year and he was with Norris now, but his instinct to look out for Gareth – to take care of him -- was hard to master. It was that instinct that prompted him to ask Gareth to leave in the first place.