there's a drumming noise inside my head Who: Gabe & Rafe. What: Rafe joins Gabe on a walk to the dog park. Where: Newport Beach. When: Following this exchange.
Gabe scrambled through boxes to find Spot's lead. He found it in the fifth box labeled KITCHEN in a scrawling hand, and not for the first time that day he missed his assistant's help. Spot had decided that his work was done for the day, having crashed on a pile of what could've previously been considered boxes.
"Oh come on, old man," he muttered, crouching down to pull Spot to his feet as the elderly dog whined. "You play your role as an excuse, there's bacon in it for you, OK?" The canine's tail thumped against the hardwood of the living room, seemingly agreeable. Gabe affectionately scratched him beneath both of his floppy ears, pulling a long grin on the dog's muzzle, before clipping the lead to his collar and rising. Once he'd double checked that he had his wallet, keys, and phone, hands patting his pockets three times as he went back and forth from the door before he finally made it out into the empty hallway of his floor. Despite his anxiety, he found himself bouncing, impatiently waiting for the elevator and somewhat wishing he lived closer to the ground floor so he could just pound the stairs.
But it came, and he descended, and the doors opened to reveal a sight he had frankly never thought he'd see again. At least, not without a distance, over some glittering crowd of nubile Hollywood actors, writers, and producers at another unnecessary, unneeded event or award show. Or at least not outside of a computer screen. Gabe paused, and then stepped forward, unable to stop the grin from unfolding on his face. His old nickname for Rafe rose to his lips, and Gabe choked it down. He stopped a few feet away from his former lover, hands making do with the lead to Spot's tired form now sitting on the lobby floor.
"Hey," he finally managed, though it thankfully wasn't too long after coming to a stop. "It's... It's really good to see you." After a pause, he asked one more thing. "Can I...?" He spread one arm wide, unsure about closing the distance to embrace the other man.
For a moment Rafael wasn't sure how to respond. He hovered there, feeling utterly pinned between Stephan's eyes on his back and the weight of Gabe's presence before him. His teeth sank into his tongue, centering him with that brief, bright flare of pain. And then he was nodding, moving across that small space with his own arms outstretched. He caught Gabriel up into a tight hug, already fighting a knot that lodged itself firmly in the base of his throat. Gabe found himself responding in kind, all but burying his nose in the other man's shoulder.
"Hey," Rafe said, his voice little more than a whisper. He twitched a small smile as he pulled away, glancing down to the dog that had occasioned this meeting. He could have hugged the old beast for that. But his eyes were drawn back to Gabe almost at once, drinking in a sight long withheld from him. "How… God, it's been a long time. You look-- I mean, how have you been?"
"Good, really good. God, you... You really filled out," Gabe replied, eyes bobbing lower for a moment before finding their way back to Rafe's face. "Come on, I wanna talk while we walk. I have... A million questions." A hand lingered on Rafe's shoulder, gently pressing toward the front door. Gabe smiled at Stephan, glasses reflecting the afternoon light spilling through the lobby windows. Once they were outside, Gabe took up a hesitant distance from Rafe, trying to remain polite.
"That's quite the concierge they have here," he finally said, laughing a little. "Good...guy, right?" His voice lilted in question, hoping he wasn't offending.
Rafael nodded, quirking a small smile. "Right. Stephan. I don't think anything gets past him. Best-dressed watchdog I've ever seen." It was too easy to drift closer to Gabriel, and he did so without thinking, though he was wise enough, at least, to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his crumpled cargo shorts. He watched the dog walk alongside them, willing himself not to stare openly at the face he had once known better than his own.
"So this is Spot," he said, nodding down toward the dog. He chuckled softly. A teasing gleam flashed in his dark eyes. "I can't believe you named him Spot. I thought writers were creative."
"Hey," Gabe shot back with a teasing glare, the hand wrapped in Spot's lead rising to point a defensive finger in Rafe's direction. "Brevity is the soul of wit, is it not? And why's a dog need a more complicated name than that? Besides, it fits him." His eyes fell affectionately toward the canine, who was trodding along without care between the two men. He wet his lips, glancing back at Rafe, whose smile had grown considerably. "So how've you been? I think the last time I saw you... You were at the Golden Globes in 2013. Who were you with?" He managed to keep any and all bitterness out of his voice, the question asked out of simple curiosity; eyes behind his glasses watched Rafe's face.
Rafael blinked, visibly surprised by the question. "Oh." A quiet, nervous laugh slipped free. "I didn't think you saw me. If you don't remember I probably shouldn't say…" He leaned in as they walked, his shoulder lightly bumping Gabe's. "Ben Whishaw. Just as friends, I guess you could say. His husband couldn't make it, so I ended up running interference with would-be groupies more than anything, honestly." His fumbling haste to clarify, to make excuses, made him feel sheepish, and he fell briefly silent. Gabe frowned, wishing he hadn't asked; guilt nagged at him for making Rafe feel judged.
"Um. I've been good though. Thanks. I just moved in here a couple of months ago. The neighbors are great." Rafe smiled, at last turning his gaze back to Gabriel. "One actually bought me a fish after I mentioned wanting a pet."
Gabe grinned. "Sounds like a good starter. That's good, I'm glad that you found good people." He nodded down at the beast between them. "This one just kinda... Fell on me. I was leaving a movie set and found him eating out of the garbage in an alley. Cleaned him up, tried to think about finding him a good home, but I decided he was better off with me in the long run. Think it's been two years now.
"Vet tells me he's probably 10 or 11, so he's got a couple of years left in him. He keeps me busy, reminds me to get up and stretch every once in awhile," he said, laughing a little. His free hand rose to scratch at his neatly-trimmed beard, trying not to seem awkward. "Besides work and a pet, though, what've you been up to?" They came to a stop at an intersection, Gabe hitting the button to cross the street. Spot took the opportunity to sit, tongue lolling happily in the sunshine.
Rafael smiled down at the dog. He reached down and petted him, scratching lightly behind one thick-furred ear, buying himself time to contemplate his response. Countless emotions flitted over his face; he hid them the best he could with his downturned gaze, but the pricking at the back of his neck assured him he could not conceal such things from such an old friend.
"Not much," he admitted. "I go surfing in the mornings. I cook when I have time." He smiled. "I think I've got my feijoada recipe nearly perfect. I think I've fallen into sort of a dinner party thing with some other tenants. If, um, you'd like to join us some time."
"I'd be happy to," Gabe replied, the light across the street flashing green with a walking man signal. He gave Spot's lead a tug and they all started out across the crosswalk. "I don't have much time to cook anymore. I think I eat too much takeout." One hand patted the small paunch developing around his middle. Rafael chuckled, but was glad of the opportunity it gave him to cast another appraising look over Gabe's form. "It's just easier to concentrate on my work, so I think the fact that I forget half the time makes it even out." He laughed, switching Spot's lead to the other hand. He glanced at Rafe, warmth in the angle of his mouth and the lingering look of his gaze.
"I'm glad you kept up with the surfing, though. And your photography? What about that?"
"Oh, no. Not really." Rafael shrugged, this nearly forgotten hobby merely another casualty of age and circumstance. "I mean every now and then I play around with it, but it's nothing. I had to sell the old camera a long time ago, and since then I just haven't found one I sort of connect with. That sounds stupid, but… I don't know."
"It's not," Gabe supplied quickly, a hand moving to squeeze Rafe's elbow. Rafael let the motion draw him closer, carelessly drifting into Gabriel's space. "You have no idea how many types of pens I go through. If it doesn't feel right, it doesn't flow right, and don't even get me started on paper." His hand fell away, snatching at Spot's lead as they started to walk parallel to the beach near the Pax complex. "Maybe you and I could go test some out? If you're not busy. You know how I feel about your photography, and I'm sure some things have only gotten better with age." He glanced at the beach, then back to Rafe, unable to keep evolving curve away from his mouth.
"It seems that way," Rafael answered. A shy smile played on his lips; he looked away, but the expression did not at all dissipate. "I'd like that. Just… whenever you're free, let me know. Early in the week is usually best? But if we have to plan something farther out, that's fine. I can probably move some things around..."
Gabe waved a hand. "You don't have to do that. We'll find something that works with our schedules. I don't have much planned," he said with a shrug. "I'm supposed to be here, working, anyway. No events, no distractions," here he leveled a sidelong glance at Rafe, though what he meant by it exactly was unclear, "nothing other than banging away on my typewriter. You know, speaking of, I have a book I should lend you. Or give to you, I can always buy another copy. Have you heard of Reliquaria, by R.A. Villanueva? Great little book of poetry about the Filipino-American experience. I think you'd really enjoy it."
Rafael's eyes lit up. "I hadn't. It sounds wonderful. It's in English? My Spanish has gotten a lot better, but I never tried Filipino." He waved a hand, cutting off his own rambling, unnecessary explanation. "I'm sorry. No distractions, you said, and here I'm trying to drag you out for pictures and borrowing books and all…" He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I'm sorry. So, okay. What are you working on now? Or supposed to be working on, I suppose."
His companion found himself grinning all the same. "I think a few breaks every now and again are fine. It's my publisher that'll have my behind if I don't make my page counts, not yours. I'm, uh, doing something more fiction. Sold it to Random house for a three book deal; science fiction, it's an idea I've been kicking around for awhile. It's still kinda embryonic, but alien control of an apocalyptic government in a country eerily similar to Mexico," he described, one hand twirling in the air. "Riffing on cartels, assumptions about Nieto's presidency, I'm not describing it as well as it's written," he finished, laughing a bit. He shrugged again. "Maybe you can test audience the draft for me. I get lost in my own head so much, sometimes everything feels like Villarreal."
"I'm sure it's all your own," Rafael said. He found himself caught up in Gabriel's excitement, drawn in by his easy gestures and his infectious enthusiasm. He ignored the small ache that hummed in his chest, that made his heart beat too quickly in the light of that smile. "I'd be very happy to read it. I have most of your others, you know. Now look, you could sign them for me." He laughed, seemingly nervous, and scratched idly at the nape of his neck. "Really, though… I do enjoy them. I think I like the short stories most. The biography… that was good, too. It seems like it would be unsettling, laying everything out like that."
Gabe's grin tempered, hand tightening around Spot's lead. He wetted his lips as his gaze drifted to the sidewalk and oncoming landmarks. A jogger sped past them, going in the opposite direction.
"Yeah, I... It wasn't my idea, originally. Random House approached me, especially after Stitches in Time did so well. I countered with getting my book deal, and, well, here we are." He glanced back at Rafe. "I kept us short. I didn't want to leave it out, because it was important to me. It still is, and...yeah. You're OK with it, right? I thought about trying to reach out and ask but... it'd been so long. I kept it vague, of course."
Rafael shook his head. "Yes, of course. I… I don't mind at all. It was…" He struggled to find the right words, uncertain such even existed for such a situation. His brow furrowed as he considered. He drew a deep breath. He had had enough of hedging and lies. He would have some truth now, if only a little. He looked to Gabriel, meeting his eyes, and though doing so took marked effort, he was glad he did. "It was nice to know you thought enough of me. Of us." He gestured, a vague of his hand. "I don't own that story, anyway. It's… it was yours, too. You could've told it however you wanted."
Sadness graced the smile that met Rafe's words. "I know, but I... It was ours. It was private, and I wanted to keep...it that way." It was clear that he did not wholly mean the story, but only halfway through speaking caught himself before committing a near-gaffe. Spot's lead switched hands, Gabe glancing down again before looking back at Rafe with a wider, more forcedly-happy grin. "Besides, there was a lot to talk about. So much has happened, just like I'm sure there's so much with you. And I want to know everything, or, at least, as much as you're willing to talk about. I won't pry...too much, anyway," he teased, inwardly marveling a little at how easy everything still was 15 years later.
"Pry all you like," Rafael laughed. "For you I'd answer anything. There's just not much worth telling. Honestly." He shrugged, and again fell quiet for a time, hoping he had not overstepped. The boundaries were so unclear; he was unsure what to say, what to ask, what to dare. He swallowed hard around a lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. "Um. You know. I still get work, I travel a little for it, and I come home to a betta fish. That's the very boring truth." His smile was thin and wan.
Gabe shook his head, glancing at Rafe in an 'I don't believe you' manner. "I know there's more going on in there, there always has been. I'll figure it out eventually, and now that we're living in the same building again, I'll have plenty of time to do so. Now, before then," he started, glancing down at the dog between them, whose pace had visibly slowed. "I think we need to get this guy back and give him some water. He's not much for long walks anymore. But hey," he started turning them both to another crosswalk and pausing, Spot gratefully sitting for a moment. "How about you tell me what's good to order in from around here, and we can continue this in my apartment?
"I don't have a lot unpacked yet, but I've got furniture, and the TV's hooked up. Have you seen The OA on Netflix yet?"
Rafael almost missed the question, so caught up was he in the invitation itself. He wet his lips with a touch of his tongue as he shook his head once more. "No, I haven't. I've heard good things, though. Are you sure you don't mind?" He busied himself leaning down to pet Spot as they waited on the light to change. The moment it did, his hands were back in his pockets as they crossed over, his strides unconsciously matching Gabriel's. "I know a great pho place that delivers. Pretty cheap, too. But honestly, Gabe, I really don't want to impose."
Gabe sighed, exasperated but slightly amused that some things didn't change. He met Rafe's gaze head on, shaking his head. "Don't. You're not, OK? I'm new to the building, I don't know anyone here, and it's great to see a familiar face. Especially yours. Nothing else is gonna make this place feel more like home faster than having people around that make it a home. Now please," he said, jabbing the crosswalk button. "Come over, let me buy you some food, and pry details out of you." He glanced back at Rafe, his ever-present smile compounded by a slight, excited bite of his cheek. "It'll be just like how it used to. If you're busy, though, I totally understand. But please don't ever think you're taking up my time, OK, an...I mean, Rafe? Because you don't." He went quiet, looked nervous. "You never did."
A dusky flush had risen to Rafael's cheeks. He heard every word, but he clung to one small syllable, a fragile breath of a thing that made his heart catch in his chest. He dared not call attention to it, though he turned it over and over in his mind before speaking. "Thank you," he said. His voice was low and rough, nearly a whisper. Then the light changed, and gave him the excuse to move again. He cleared his throat.
"I'm not busy," he said. "So yeah. Let's go. Maybe I can help you unpack a little while we watch."
Spot was already charging forward, clearly relieved by the fact that they seemed to be headed back toward the apartment complex. Gabe likewise found himself hurrying forward, all too happy to snatch Rafe up and monopolize his time if he were given half the chance.
"I said I was going to feed you, not conscript you for hard labor," Gabe replied, happy to move back to their early banter. "But if you insist," he added as they reached the other side of the road. They cut from the sidewalk and across a small, grassy hill separating the road from the Pax parking lot.
"I do." Rafael's smile returned. His hand slipped from his pocket; he stopped himself just before reaching out to take Gabe's hand. He concealed the gesture with another pet to the old dog's head. He fell into step with dog and man. With each footfall he felt as though a weight was being slowly, steadily lifted from him. Through grinning lips he smiled, raking a hand through his tousled hair.