"There is a reason I never come back." Ethan stood in the kitchen doorway. The sunlight framed his body.
"And which reason is that? There are so many. You left a list last time. I taped it to the refrigerator," Joseph turned around to face Ethan, the rag he had been using the wipe the table dangling from his fingertips. He wore a rough cotton button-down shirt, tucked loosely into faded jeans. His dark brown hair was slightly too long and messy.
"You are such a prick sometimes," Ethan said flatly.
"Only sometimes? Feeling generous today, are you?" Joseph tossed the rag into the sink. It made a wet slapping sound. Ethan and Joseph stared at each other for a few moments. Joseph broke the silence.
"Well, come in and shut the door already," he said as he turned around to open a cabinet. He took two mugs out, and a box of tea bags.
"What makes you think I want to stay?" Ethan asked testily.
"You actually walked into my house."
Ethan let out a humph of air, and stepped into the kitchen, swinging the door shut with one hand. He unbuttoned his grey overcoat, took it off and folded it over his arm. He remained standing next to the door. His charcoal suit, dark green shirt and green tie were immaculate. He ran his free hand over his perfectly trimmed, sandy hair, then scrubbed it over his clean-shaven face. He looked uncomfortable in the cluttered kitchen.
Joseph filled the black kettle with water from the tap, and put it on the stove. He turned the burner knob, then lit a match and set the gas under the burner on fire. He waved out the match. The smell of sulfur tinged the air.
Ethan closed his eyes. He remembered lighting the logs in the fireplaces in the school at night with Joseph when they were 12. And 13, and 14, up until they were 17. The long matches would release the same sulfur smell after they were struck. While waiting for the fires to build, the two boys would talk freely.
"We were so innocent then," he whispered.
"'Scuse?" Joseph asked. He walked to Ethan, touched the elbow under the folded overcoat. Ethan opened his eyes, stared into Joseph's, one brown-eyed stare to another.
"Nothing."
"I'll hang this up," Joseph tugged the coat from Ethan's arm. He hung it up on a hook near the door behind Ethan.
"You plan on putting anything stronger than water in that tea?" Ethan asked.
"There's brandy in the hutch."
Ethan stepped to the hutch and opened the door. A half empty bottle of brandy sat in the front on the shelf. He took it out, put it on the table. Joseph had pulled one of the chairs away from the table.
"Have a seat?" he asked.
Ethan sat. Joseph returned to the stove.
"Gail know you're here?" Joseph asked, his back to Ethan.
"Course not."
"Business trip?"
Ethan made a non-committal grunt.
"You never come back here, yet here you are. That's a bit of a conundrum, even for you, Ethan."
Ethan was quiet. He fidgeted for a few moments.
"I m... haven't seen you in a long time," his tongue tripped over the word "missed."
"You missed me then?" Joseph said with a hint of laughter in his voice.
Silence.
"I missed you," Ethan said simply.
The kettle whistled. Joseph took it off the burner, poured hot water into the mugs, swirled it around, then poured it back into the kettle. He poured hot water into the mugs again, dunked tea bags into them. He turned, placed a mug in front of Ethan.
"You still make tea the way Mrs. Callahan did," Ethan remarked.
"Only proper way to do it, I dare say," Joseph retorted with a smile. He sat down in the chair opposite Ethan, long tanned fingers curled around his mug. Ethan noticed Joseph had a couple-days' worth of old stubble on his chin.
"She used to make us tea Saturday afternoons. We would sit in the front room, the one with all the wood we'd have to polish in detention."
"I remember," Joseph said quietly. "It was usually your fault we were in detention doing all that polishing, though."
"I came up with the ideas. You followed through with them."
Joseph laughed. "Very true." He removed his tea bag from his mug and flipped it across the room with his spoon. The bag thumped into the side of garbage can, and dropped onto the bottom. He opened the bottle of brandy, poured a generous amount into his tea. Ethan removed his tea bag from his mug with his spoon, stood and dropped it into the garbage. He returned to the table.
"So civilized," mocked Joseph.
"Some civilized behavior would do you some good," Ethan said. Joseph shrugged, took a large gulp of his tea.
"I am how I am. Not about to start apologizing for it," Joseph said.
Ethan poured his own generous amount of brandy into his tea. He watched Joseph swirl his tea around in his mug.
"I missed you, too, Ethan."
They stared into their mugs. Joseph fidgeted with his spoon on the table. His hand turned it over and over, fingers rubbing the handle. Ethan's pale, manicured hand reached out and stilled Joseph's.
"The first time I worked up the nerve to really touch you was just after you turned 17," Ethan said quietly. Joseph's hand remained still. He didn't look up at Ethan.
"I was in the library. You came in from the soccer field. It had rained, and you were soaked through," Joseph turned his hand over. Their palms rested against each other. Ethan slid his hand across Joseph's palm. His fingertips rested on Joseph's wrist.
"You were at one of the tables in the back, hunched over some textbook. Your hair had fallen forward, your shirt collar backward. Your hair's always been too long, hasn't it? That little bit of your neck that was exposed was so tempting-"
"Your hands were wet and cold, and I screamed when you touched me." Joseph stated matter-of-factly.
Ethan laughed. "I wondered if you screamed because my hands were cold, or if it was because it was me touching you."
"A little of both, I think."
Both men were silent. Ethan felt the heat from Joseph's hand seep into his cold skin. Joseph slid his hand out from under Ethan's. He stood from the table.
"There's no point communing with the dead," he said flatly. He turned away from Ethan.
Ethan jumped up. His chair crashed to the floor. He moved around the table, and caught Joseph's arm. Joseph tried to yank his arm away. Ethan tightened his grip, and pulled Joseph up against him. Joseph froze. Ethan smashed his lips against Joseph's.
They grappled, alternately trying to grope and push the other away, their lips together. Ethan broke contact first, sucked in lungfuls of air. Joseph balled his fists in the lapels of Ethan's suit coat, breathing hard. He pushed the other man roughly backwards against the kitchen wall. Ethan let him. His hands rested on Joseph's hips. Joseph stared into his eyes. Ethan stared back, waiting. Joseph leaned closer, lips hovering next to Ethan's for a heartbeat, then captured them.
It was a gentle, sweet kiss, like their first in the library all those years ago. Ethan felt himself melting into it. Joseph nudged his knee between Ethan's legs, pressing his thigh up against Ethan's crotch. Ethan's hands moved from Joseph's hips to tug the rough cotton shirt upwards, and put his hands on the warm flesh at the small of his back. Joseph groaned, tightening his fists in the suit coat lapels.
