Hidden Dreams

There was a great proceeding silence as the two discontented individuals sat next to each other on the hotel bed.

They didn’t really know what they wanted. They didn’t know what they were going to say or be to each other after—-but, this was something like home to them; sitting there inches apart on the bed.

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“No problem, it’s been kind of weird for me these past few days.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls…”

Doug sighed. “It’s okay. You’ve been under so much stress lately. I understand.”

“It’s also mid-week… so it’s like, I don’t know, kinda awkward to meet up during this time after work. But… thank you. It means a lot.”

“Yeah. No big deal.”

“Ho… how was your week?”

Doug sighed but smiled at the question. What a question that was.

“Had to deal with a mess at work. My co-worker Deidre left a mountain of paperwork for me that she was supposed to do. Of course, I’m covering for her. She’s been here forever. She just takes advantage of everyone because of her seniority.” He sighed, feeling a bit crappy for venting about his benign troubles with Roger facing homelessness and never talking to his family again. “I just had to really rush through it, since I had so much of my own stuff to do.”

“That’s really difficult to deal with. I would relay to her that even with her seniority, it doesn’t mean she can just step on you. That’s entirely not okay for her to keep doing that to you.”

The slightly paler one looked upon his friend, feeling in awe that this was the most well thought out response he had ever heard of. It wasn’t because the solution was hard to figure out, or because it was clever. It was because he could tell Roger was actively listening to him. And that he actually cared about what he’s week had been like.

They went back and forth in this fashion, and relayed details of their days, and found they had an easy, almost domestic sort of application to their conversation. Doug also had a way of keeping things open ended so Roger could also share his day, his week, and the intimacy of the listener and the response was reciprocated in equal terms.

“So… the reason I needed to see you, Doug, was because I needed to properly apologize to you.”

Doug was about to protest, but Roger shook his head.

“Just listen.” He scooted a little closer. Their eyes met and Doug breathed in softly. “I was a huge jackass when we first met. I never was one to make someone feel good about themselves or even just learn simple hospitality or how to be polite to newcomers.”

Roger frowned, his hand reaching unconsciously near Doug’s hand. “I made the way you began adapting to this new place you moved to feel unstable and a bit shaky. So, I’m sorry. For all of that. It wasn’t your fault. And… in general. I took advantage of your friendship when it suited me over the years. But now, now…” He dared to take Doug’s hand and did so, and Doug looked at the subtle touch but did not pull away. “I feel like this is real. Our connection is real. And, the other day, with knowing I’ve lost my family and my home, I really put a lot of pressure on you. That’s why I left. I don’t want to lose you because I always put too much pressure on people—-I always do that…to make it seem like you have to just acquiesce to my every whim so we can be friends.” He saw Doug look at him a bit frustratedly and he smiled nervously. “I’m not saying you are doing that.”

“But, Rog..”

“It’s okay. I…I appreciate your support. I just… can we just try to go back to how things were before I got weird? Please?”

Doug desperately needed to tell him something. But the look in Roger’s eyes told him to wait.

As much as it killed them both—they truly thought they were saving their newly built relationship by keeping their true feelings under wraps.

“Yes, Rog.”

They both sighed.

“Whew! Great. Okay. So… Doug, will you partake with me a tiny bit of drinking? It has been a hell of a month!”

Doug surprised himself by agreeing with a solid, “Absolutely.”

Roger looked at him with utter shock but then laughed, playfully shoving him.

“Oh, Doug, coming alive! Awesome! Yeah!”

They high-fived.

Roger got up and got out his stash of alcohol.

“I have vodka, bourbon and tequila. What do you want?”

“I have never drank anything in my life.”

Roger turned around and frowned, thinking this meant none of them.

“Do you want a beer instead?” He offered.

“Just… pick one for me.”

“You sure? You don’t have to drink.”

Doug shrugged. “I don’t feel like I have to. I want to. With you.”

“That’s good, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something. So… music?”

Doug nodded. “You need help?”

Roger shook his head. “Nah. Just pouring our drinks.”

He put on a song on his phone, and handed Doug a shot glass of amber liquid.

“Okay. One shot?”

Doug nodded. “Should I just slam it down?”

Roger laughed with a snort. “Sure. I never heard it being described quite like that… but yeah.”

They tapped their glasses together and both drank it quickly.

Doug felt a slight burn and coughed.

“What was th-that one?”

Roger laughed with an affectionate smile. “Bourbon. You did pretty good for your first time. You don’t want another, do you?”

“I like that song. Is that Rage Against the Machine?”

Roger smiled, impressed. “Yeah. You like them?”

“Sure. They are a classic staple of the nineties. I like Nirvana more. But, they tend to be a bit overplayed.”

“Nirvana is great. I don’t care if they’re overplayed.”

Doug shrugged. “Hey, I didn’t say I cared either. Just saying what’s obvious. You wanna do another shot?”

“You’re definitely not how I pictured you, at all…” Roger commented.

Doug nodded, “Did you picture me as that eleven year old goofball still? I’m not a kid anymore. I’m technically an adult.”

“An adult who has never drank before…”

“Well, I’m barely twenty years old.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Way to make it weird.”

“I didn’t. What do you mean?”

“Cause I’m older.”

“Yeah. But you’re only two years older. That’s not much.”

“To me, it feels like a lot. I always felt weird hanging around you guys. I guess I overcompensated when I was acting like that proud jerk.”

The song ended and Roger put on another song.

Doug heard the subtle rock tones and the silky, mezzo-soprano crooning of an artist he had never heard before.

“She’s great,” Roger started, his cheeks darkening. “She’s like some kind of beautiful rock goddess. PJ Harvey.”

“She sounds awesome… I like her voice.” Doug smirked. “I think you like her… like, you are in love with her.”

“Yeah. I do. Gotta problem with that?”

Doug shook his head. “Nah. She sounds pretty.”

“Yeah. Girls are pretty. You can’t live with them or without them.”

Doug laughed, “That is true.”

They drank another shot of bourbon and Doug was feeling light headed.

He really wanted to kiss Roger, but found a way to ground himself. He sat far away from him.

It made him feel in control.

“You want to pick the next song?”

“How about The Beets?” Doug suggested.

They both laughed and talked about their childhood band.

They decided to switch to beer, and started talking more in detail of their childhood and their lives when they were in school.

Roger had a higher tolerance but was starting to feel buzzed, and wanted more than anything to hold Doug.

Just hold him.

Nothing else.

Hold him tight, and never let go.

Little, longing pining looks kept being thrown across the room.

Then, Roger said this(which sounded faraway to Doug): “Doug? Why are you so fa-far away from me? Come here.”

Doug smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I can’t be near you.”

“What am I? A pariah? A leech on society’s back? What am I? Who am I?”

Roger finished off his beer almost aggressively, and went on the bed.

“Doug? What the fuck am I?”

Doug frowned and got up and sat next to him.

“You’re Roger. You’re my best friend. You’re a good person.”

Roger laughed but it settled into a cry.

“I… I almost died that day.”

The voice sounded small, tired, pained.

“Died?” Doug echoed, feeling his heart in his throat.

“I didn’t tell y-you,” Roger said in a hiccup. “Before I left, he put a knife to my throat.” He sobbed and said in a shaky voice, “And… he said I was a faggot. He said if I ever showed my dirty, disgraceful face around there ever again, he’d kill me.”

Doug started to tear up, and moved in closer, putting his arms around Roger’s back.

“And you’re all I got left.”

The words stayed in Doug’s mind.

It cemented and poured a new seal, and it gave Doug a determination he had never felt before.

“You’re staying with me. No arguments. No bullshit. I am taking you home.”

Roger immediately stopped crying, and wiped his red eyes.

“Home?” Roger asked.

“Yes, home. Home is with me. Right?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Roger whispered.

Their faces became so close they were almost touching. Doug leaned in, ready to close the gap.

Roger’s eyes became wide, and he moved away.

No way was he going to take advantage of Doug.

“I won’t lose you. Doug…” He took Doug’s hand. “I won’t let our first kiss be while we are drunk.”

Doug blushed and bit his lip.

Hearing it being said out loud was much more real than any action they could’ve had together.

“Fir-first kiss?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah. Is that what you wanted to do?”

Doug nodded, “Fuck, yeah.”

The words echoed back to Roger felt a bit dirty, but slightly less than what he was used to. Doug made curse words seems friendly. Roger leaned in and kissed his cheek, making Doug want to open up about something.

“I saw Patti the other day. Skeet and I hung out, and after he left, I saw her near downtown. She was in town for the weekend to visit family. We had an okay conversation… but, it felt just as dry as it had always been.”

Roger nodded, listening closely.

“She mentioned to me about something she read in my journal. I let her read my whole journal. And… she told me finally what it was that made her leave me.”

“What was it?”

“I wrote this poem. It was about how I felt there was something special about someone I knew. A hidden special spot that just needed to be unlocked…. Within them… and all it took was the right amount of support—and time—-and openness—-and how their soul was a unique gem. She read it, and she knew that even with all the things I had written about her—-that tiny little poem seemed to stick out more than anything else.”

“Who was it about?”

“What do you think?”

Roger looked down and then at him.

They didn’t say anything more. They both smiled.

They continued to hold hands.

Doug put on another song.

“Why’d you pick this one?” Roger asked, smiling despite already figuring it out.

“Because I’m trying not to say something stupid.”

They grinned and chuckled, and laid on the bed together, closing their eyes.

They both dreamed of their future, holding hands and listening to their romance on the little speaker over and over.