How the Light Gets In

Chapter 20

Joe was speaking again. 

Matt did his best to listen, but the words seemed to wash over him in waves of pain.

 “He broke my heart,” Joe said.  “He broke all our hearts.  He was so young and so full of dreams, and we lost him.”

“That’s why I’m here tonight, sharing this with you.  I don’t want to lose any of you.  If you feel alone, if you feel scared, I want you to know that you are not alone.  You have family here.  Look around you.  Don’t let us lose you as we lost Jonathan.”

Matt listened.  He felt Luc beside him, felt him reach an arm around his shoulder.  Then Luc was turning him in his arms, pulling him close. 

Matt stiffened.  

This isn’t right, he thought.  I should be stronger than this.  I’m supposed to be comforting him.  He’s the one who tried to travel that path, the one who had pulled back, in the nick of time.  Unlike Jonathan, who had died alone. 

But despite Matt’s resistance, Luc held on tight.  And as he felt Luc’s hands on his back, his shoulders, pulling him into his arms, Matt realized he was sobbing uncontrollably.

So many secrets, he thought.  He’d come to St G’s the semester after Jonathan had died, plunged himself head first into the Rainbow community, and had never even heard a word about the suicide of a gay boy.    

So many secrets. 

He felt the weight of them now.  It was beyond bearing.  Luc was there, and somehow the fragile Quebecois boy’s arms seemed strong and welcoming.  He allowed himself to lean heavily into them, allowed Luc this small victory.

 “It’s ok,” Luc said softly against his ear.  “We’re all ok.”

 ***

After the vigil, Luc and Matt did not go back to Rainbow with the others.  They went home.  The ten-minute drive from the university to the condo was strangely lovely, all clear sky and stars and the ocean reflecting back the moon.

Matt, however, was quiet and withdrawn. 

Luc wanted desperately to talk to him, but he didn’t know how to start.  He didn’t want to talk about Joe or about Jonathan.  All that could be said about that sorrow had been said, and more eloquently than Luc himself could say it.  He didn’t want to talk about his own reactions either.  He had a lot to think about there.  He wasn’t ready.

What he did want was to understand what was going on with Matt – and what was going on inside himself.  He wanted to understand how he’d felt, standing there, holding Matt in the middle of a crowd.  Matt had seemed so...broken.  They had to be getting close to the pain Luc had sensed in him from the beginning. 

But when Joe had finished speaking, Matt had pulled away from him, and now he was pale and silent in a way that Luc had not seen before.  He didn’t know where Matt had gone, what he was feeling.  He didn’t know how to ask.    

In the end, Luc said nothing at all.  The ride home was silent under the stars, and when they got home, he watched helplessly as Matt, after a quiet “good night,” went to his room, pulling the door almost closed. 

Luc moved about restlessly.  He made himself a coffee, ran his fingers over the piano keys, did his hand exercises until he wept with the pain of it.  Matt must have heard – but for once, he did not come. 

And it didn’t help.  Nothing Luc did was enough to block out the way he had felt holding Matt.  It was late when he went to bed, and still he lay awake for a long, long time.  

From the beginning, Luc had convinced himself that there was nothing sexual in his attraction to Matt.  He believed that all he felt for Matt was friendship, and that all he sought from him was comfort.  And all those nights that Matt had come to him, held him while he fell asleep – even the kisses they had exchanged – they were not about attraction.  They were about comfort.

And now, he knew, Matt was lying alone, and as much in need of comfort as Luc himself had ever been.  And Luc wanted to offer him that comfort.

But why was it so hard?  And why, as he lay there staring at the ceiling, did he ache so much? Why did he – want?      

He knew he could make Matt come to him.  All he had to do was move, call out, make some sound of pain, and Matt would be there, as he was always there, offering tablets and the calm warmth of his body to soothe Luc back to sleep.

He didn’t want to sleep.

Luc didn’t want to be soothed or comforted. 

But Matt did – whether or not he was willing to admit it.

Finally, Luc pushed back the covers and eased himself out of bed. It was just after three, and his hand was hurting.  It was, he realized, only pain, and he could take something for that.  He made his way slowly to the kitchen, where he took two tablets.  He didn’t go back to his own room.  He stopped instead at Matt’s door, and slowly pushed it open.  He stood in the doorway and allowed himself to look.  Really look.

He could see, in the dim light from clocks and power bars and sleeping computer, that Matt was asleep on his back, one arm flung upward.  The blankets were half way across his chest, leaving his shoulders bare.  For a moment, Luc stood perfectly still.  Then he took a deep breath and stepped into the room.  His hand grazed a chair, which made a soft bump as it hit the desk.

Matt sat up swiftly and suddenly, and reached for the small light beside his bed.  The blankets had fallen to his waist, and for the first time, Luc saw him.  Really saw him.  His hair was tousled, his eyes worried, and his skin smooth and clear and golden.  

He was beautiful. 

“Luc?”

“Yes.”  He took another step towards the bed. 

“Are you ok?”

“Yes.”  Another step.  Then another, and another.  

And then there he was.

“Luc?”  Matt’s voice was soft now, and oddly uncertain.

Luc sat down, turned, pulled his legs up, slipped them under the blankets.  For a second, he allowed himself to gaze at Matt’s naked chest.  Then he bowed his head and kissed Matt’s shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Matt asked, his voice trembling.

Luc opened his arms.

 “I don’t want you to be alone,” he whispered.

Still, Matt did not move.  Luc reached over him, and turned out the light. Then he settled himself down in the bed.

“Come here,” he said, reaching his fingers out to graze Matt’s bare arm.  “Come close to me.”

“Why?” Matt asked, in a broken voice.

“Because you need me here,” said Luc, tugging gently.  “As much as I need to be here.  Because when I touch you, I feel alive.”

“Luc, I can’t--.”

“Oui, tu peux,” said Luc.  “Tu dois.”

And slowly, slowly, Matt yielded, until he settled down into the bed, down beside this wounded French boy who seemed so suddenly strong.  Slowly he allowed himself to rest his head in the middle of Luc’s chest, and slowly reach an arm around Luc’s narrow hips.

He felt Luc’s arms wrap around him, and he too felt alive.

***

Scott, too, had been quiet and withdrawn, both at Rainbow after the vigil and for the entire ride home.  Josh thought he knew why, and decided to give him some space.

Josh remembered Jonathan Williams.  He had actually been in a couple of classes with him. They’d spoken a few times. He remembered him as a tall, slender boy with that lovely combination of naturally blonde hair and dark, dark eyes.  If he hadn’t died, Josh wasn’t sure he would remember him at all.

He remembered how the death was announced.  There was a quiet speech by a professor, and a small article in the local press.  No mention was made that  Jonathan was gay – which Josh hadn’t known and which, as far as he knew, had never been rumoured. Nothing was said about his having been harassed.  The assumption, at least among those Josh had known, was that Jonathan had not been able to deal with the pressures of academia, of being away from home for the first time.  This impression was supported by the fact that all students received letters from the university president about the importance of seeking help if you were having difficulties dealing with pressure, and the lists of the university’s support resources. 

 “You ok?” he asked later, already in bed with a book and watching Scott undress.

Scott pulled his t-shirt over his head, and dropped down beside him.

“That was so hard.” he said.  “I just think about how it must feel, to be so alone, so scared, to hurt that much –” 

He fell silent.

Josh reached out and wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulder.  He had seen Scott’s reaction to the entire vigil – and especially his reaction to Joe.  

“You’re thinking it could have been Luc,” he said quietly.

“If I hadn’t come home that night, listened to my phone... If you hadn’t been home, hadn’t been able to get there on time.  So many ifs –” 

“But you did come home,” said Josh.  “You did listen to your phone.  And I was there in time.  Luc’s ok, Scott.  He’s ok.  And did you see him there tonight, how he was?  I think it was good for him to be there.  To see that other people have been through this.”

“I know,” said Scott.  “But – I can’t help feeling it’s bigger than that.”   

Josh wrapped both arms around Scott, pulled him in close.  He felt Scott’s arms slide around his waist as he buried his face against Josh’s neck.  His breathing was hot and unsteady. 

“What do you mean, bigger?  Tell me what you’re thinking.”

 “I’m thinking that it could have been any of us,” Scott said slowly.  “So many of us are scared.  So many of us have been hurt.  I mean – fuck, if I didn’t have my family, it could have been me.  And... and if you weren’t so strong –” his breath hitched with a small sob.  “If you weren’t so strong, it could have been you.” 

Josh held Scott for a long time, feeling tears spill hot against his skin.  He made soft, soothing noises, but he did not try to deny the truth in what Scott had said.