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“So, if I do this, I am gonna stay for a few more days.”
Bill woke up with the last words of Frank's that he remembered in his mind. He moved slowly in bed, his cheeks slightly flushed as he thought about what had happened just after those words.
Once he turned over, he gasped.
No one.
He reached out his hand.
The place next to him was cold.
What if everything was a dream?
What if everything was an illusion?
What if after all this time, he had gone crazy?
Yes.
A dream, that must be it.
Because... how to explain that in less than twenty-four hours, not only had he offered a meal to a man, given him clothes, let him play on his mother's piano?
How to explain that not only had he spent the night with a complete stranger, but had slept by his side in complete trust?
Then how to explain that a man like Frank would want to be with someone like him? Of course it could only exist in a dream.
But it had felt so real.
He dragged himself out of bed and put on his clothes.
He had to fill up the generator, check the gate, and then he could make himself breakfast.
Like every morning.
Nothing had changed.
It had only been a dream.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't help but look at the piano.
Of course the cover was closed. He couldn't help but open the sheet music case and rummage through it until he found Linda Rondstadt's songbook.
His eyes fell on the last line of the chorus.
“And I think I'm gonna love you for a long long time.”
It had been so long since he had sung that song. Long before the epidemic started, so long before.
"So, who's the girl?"
He had just raised his hands from the piano and Frank asked, "So, who's the girl?" He moved closer and clarified his question, "Girl you're singing about?"
Bill shook his head and didn't dare look up as he replied, "There is no girl."
He didn't know what he expected in response but certainly not Frank's warm hand on his shoulder, as warm as his voice when he said softly, "I know."
He also didn't expect the man's lips on his, nor did he expect his teary cheeks when he asked, still with the same smile on his lips.
"What's your name?"
But he recognized the emotion in the other man's eyes.
The emotion that was his when he answered, "Bill."
Bill closed the score book, put it back in the case and closed it with a snap. The sound pulled him out of his reverie.
He muttered deprecatingly, "You idiot, it was just a dream. A fucking dream."
As if to prove him right, when he turned to the dining room, the table was spotless, no leftovers from the previous night's meal, no plates, no glasses, no Beaujolais wine. The chairs were as always neatly arranged around the table and the wood of the tabletop was perfectly clean.
As he opened the bottle of Beaujolais, all he heard were Frank's moans of pleasure as he enjoyed his first bite of meat.
Bill had never cooked for anyone other than his mother in his later years and this was the first time he had seen someone actually enjoy what he had prepared.
He looked at Frank and couldn't help but smile at his look of pure delight.
He said softly but still deprecatingly, "Everything tastes good when you're starving."
Frank shook his head, "Yeah but not like this."
Then Bill poured him the wine and Frank, having just swallowed, added, "A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais."
Bill, who really wasn't used to compliments, replied in a self-deprecating tone, barely meeting Frank's eyes, "I know I don't seem like the type."
But the other man's expression became serious again and, boring his clear gaze into Bill's, he said gently but firmly, "No, you do."
They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, and Bill, not being able to take it anymore, looked down and returned to his seat on the other side of the table.
He had this strange feeling that Frank had seen him. That Frank knew him.
Intimately.
Bill chuckled bitterly.
More proof that this had all been a story from his imagination. Because in reality, if there was a Frank and Frank knew him, there was no way he would want to stay with someone like him.
He'd had dreams a long time ago. Because before he was a paranoid survivalist, he had been a dreamy teenager. Introverted and dreamy.
And he had to admit that the Frank of his imagination was exactly the kind of person he dreamed of. He dreamed about it because it was exactly the kind of person he would never meet in reality.
"Oh crap, you're up already!"
Bill turned with a sharp movement to find himself facing Frank who was holding a tray with everything needed for a breakfast for two.
The other man continued to speak, "Did I wake you up? Yet I tried not to make any noise. I wanted to surprise you! You looked like you were sleeping so soundly then I- Bill?"
Bill had come up to him and was reaching his hand toward his face, hesitantly, almost as if he were afraid to touch him. He moved closer still until his fingers brushed Frank's cheek. At first very lightly, then more strongly.
Frank, looking puzzled, asked again, "Bill?"
Bill swallowed several times and whispered in a shaky voice, "You...you're real?"
Frank chuckled softly, "Yes, absolutely real." Then, seeing from Bill's expression that the question was not a matter for joking, he set the tray down on the buffet beside him and turned again to Bill, whose hand had hung in the air where it had touched Frank's cheek. He grasped the other man's hand and, kissing the palm gently he repeated determinedly, his eyes in Bill's, "Yes, I am real."
Bill shook his head, and with his voice tight with emotion, whispered, "That's not possible. This kind of thing doesn't happen to me. It can only be a dream."
Frank smiled fondly and cupped Bill's face in his hands, "I'm flattered that you think I'm from a dream, but this kind of thing really happens to you and it's reality." He gently pressed his lips to Bill's in a long, deep kiss. Then sliding his hands down the other man's arms, he grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the table from which he pulled out one of the chairs and made Bill sit down. Frank pulled out another chair to sit across from him and grabbing the other man's hands again between his own, he asked him softly, "What made you think this wasn't real?"
Bill lowered his head and with his eyes on his hands in Frank's, he suddenly felt like a complete idiot. One of Frank's hands released his and grabbed his chin, making him lift his head, "Hey, don't be like that. I'm not blaming you. I genuinely want to know."
Frank caught a strand of Bill's hair that fell in front of his eyes and pushed it back behind his ear. This simple, delicate gesture brought tears to Bill's eyes. Frank insisted, and said as gently as ever, "Tell me..."
Bill swallowed the lump in his throat and with his voice above a whisper, he explained, "When I woke up I was alone, I... the piano was closed, the sheet music was put away, the table was clean, there... there was no trace of you. And then did you look at me... ? I had every reason to believe that it had all been a dream. How could I have believed otherwise? How could someone like you... with someone like me?"
Bill was trying hard to hold back the tears, not wanting to appear weaker than he already was. But still, one managed to escape and was intercepted gently by Frank's thumb, which wiped it away gently.
"Oh Bill..."
Frank leaned over and gave him another long kiss before replying, "This morning I was up early, force of habit. And as I told you, you were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you up. Then, if, as I understood, you are someone who likes things to be in their place, I put everything away as it was before. I'm sorry, I didn't think that-"
Bill shook his head, "No, please don't apologize, I'm the one who-"
Frank stopped him by putting a finger to his lips, "Stop that right now. Like I told you last night, I'll stay a few more days, at least. And I have one condition. There will be no 'someone like me' and 'someone like you'. There will be no 'I don't seem like the type.' You are not less than me and I am not more than you. I know it all happened quickly, I know we're still a long way from knowing each other, but I also know that I feel the promise of something strong."
Bill shook his head, but Frank continued, "Don't tell me it's because there's no choice. Because it seems to me that tonight neither you nor I were there as a consolation prize, if you know what I mean. Bill, I don't know much about you, but what I can tell you is that you are worth so much more than you think. So much more. And I want to be there to make you realize that. If you want me to. So if you tell me to leave because you don't want anything to do with me, I'll leave. No hard feelings. But be clear, be honest, no false reasons like you won't be good enough for me or I'll be too good for you or anything like that."
Bill felt at that moment like he was on the edge of a precipice, he could either jump into the unknown or just back away to a safe place. His instincts were screaming at him to get back to safety but could he go back after what had happened in the last few hours? Could he go back to what his life was like before? Did he want to?
Without Frank.
Who in a few hours had broken down one barrier after another.
“Everything tastes good when you're starving.”
“Yeah, but not like this.”
“A man who knows to pair rabbit with a Beaujolais.”
“I know I don't seem like the type.”
“No, you do.”
“So, who's the girl? Girl you're singing about?”
“There is no girl.”
“I know.”
“Have you ever done this before?”
“With a girl a long time ago, but...”
Yeah, I know, so... I'm gonna start with the simple things.”
“If I do this, I am gonna stay for a few more days. Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
Of course he couldn't go back.
"Okay, I get it."
He was pulled from his thoughts by the voice of Frank who was withdrawing his hand from Bill's cheek and starting to back away. For the first time since they had known each other the smile was gone from his face.
Bill grabbed his hand and whispered, "Stay."
Then he repeated louder and more clearly, "Stay. Please. Stay."
The smile returned to Frank's lips as he replied, "Yeah. Yes. I'll stay. I'll stay."
This time it was Bill who reached out to Frank. He was the one who brought his face to his and pressed his lips against his.
They kissed for a long time, both crying in the kiss, and when they broke apart to catch their breath, they chuckled softly together.
After a few seconds Frank planted one last kiss on Bill's lips and in a lighter tone said, "Let's get that breakfast." He continued to speak as he stood up, "So I don't know what you usually have, so I made a little of everything. I hope you don't mind me wasting some of the groceries, but I did what I-"
He set the tray down in front of Bill, who put his hand on top of his and said simply, "That's perfect like that."
Frank smiled again and nodded before taking a seat next to him.
Bill looked briefly at the other end of the table. Yet another barrier broken.
Yes, it was perfect like that.