Author: Matthew J. Metzger
Category: LGBT
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/matthew-j-metzger/page,11,570963-the_beginning_starting_over.html
Me: Aled’s on his way home to you. Just dropped me off.
He’d long since given up on figuring out Gabriel’s work pattern, but was still surprised by the speed of the reply.
Gabriel: Is it true you’ve put an offer in?
Chris: How do you know that already?
Gabriel: He texted me this morning.
Gabriel: Duh.
Gabriel: But was he being serious?
Gabriel: Have you really actually chosen one?
Chris raised his eyebrows, not sure which route to go down first. Eventually, he decided Gabriel was glued to his phone fairly often and ignored the speed. He probably hadn’t been waiting with bated breath for updates. And he supposed it wasn’t too surprising that Aled had already been in touch, seeing as how he wouldn’t be able to for most of the long drive north. But the shock they’d picked somewhere was a bit rude. That had been the point, hadn’t it?
Me: Why so surprised?
Gabriel: Because that man can’t make a decision for the life of him so it must be your fault!
Chris smirked.
Me: Not guilty. It was a joint effort.
Gabriel: BS!
Me: Nope. God’s honest truth. We both liked it. And I ticked off most of your traffic light list. We think you’ll like it too.
Gabriel: You’d better have ticked them off if you’re BUYING it!
Gabriel: So which one was it?
Gabriel: You got all my must-haves, right?
Gabriel: Right???
Me: Yes. And the last one. Out in the country.
Gabriel: Ooh, the rural bungalows?
Gabriel: You and Aled just across the garden from each other? And me wherever I like?
Gabriel: Good cycling country?
Me: Yes, yes, and looks it but I didn’t take my bike so haven’t tested it.
Gabriel: Yesssss xxx
Gabriel: Maybe if I bribe Aled with sex at Land’s End, we can finally get him on a bike.
Me: Good luck with that. If it didn’t work in the Dales it’s not going to work in Cornwall…
Gabriel sent him a grumpy emoji, and Chris grinned before leaving him to his plotting. No amount of sex would get Aled on a bike. He hated them. In fact, now Gabriel would have permanent company on his jaunts, Chris was pretty sure Aled would stop agreeing to ferry the bikes around too. Two of them could handle any trouble that came their way, so why should Aled have to be backup anymore? That would be his logic.
Chris abandoned the texting to ring the estate agent and book an appointment for the following week, then texted it to Aled and heaved himself up off the bed when another joke thrown Gabriel’s way got no reply. He might as well make himself some lunch, then have a kip and recharge from all the socialising.
He was tired and a little drained from having to be sociable all weekend, and he’d intended to get his head down for a few hours once Aled was gone. He had work tomorrow, which meant customers and being pleasant and all that exhausting crap. He needed to recover. But something pulled him towards the garden instead of the kitchen, and he let himself out of the back door into the wilderness.
If there was one thing that he and Mum had managed to understand about each other over the years, it was a love of the outdoors. She’d never had much money and they’d lived off her meagre wages, dried corned beef sandwiches and whatever spare change could be squeezed from his grandparents’ pensions. Once his uncle had been dishonourably discharged for that incident with the sheep, his contribution to keeping his sister and nephews fed and clothed had dried up too. And because they lived in a country village, not an inner city sink estate, there’d been next to nothing in the way of help from the government.
So Mum’s way of keeping them busy and entertained had been anything that was free. And walking across the levels, exploring hidden caves in the Mendips, following rivers to the sea or their source, had all been free. Chris had grown up rambling around the countryside, collecting leaves for art projects at home, kicking a football about with just his mum and his brother in the middle of nowhere, climbing trees on his own instead of getting to go to the birthday parties at the adventure centre near Bristol.
Tim had never been all that bothered, but it had given Chris a love of nature and the outdoors that had been a refuge over the years. And if Mum hadn’t understood what he was hiding from or why, she’d at least understood why the refuge was what it was.
The garden showed it best of all. She’d never kept a trim lawn and tidy borders—and Chris hadn’t exactly kept on top of the gardening since she’d died. Flowering shrubs jostled for room. A vegetable patch at the back was duelling with a persistent crop of brambles. Weeds thrived merrily amongst the wanted plants, and the remains of a wasps’ nest glowered warningly from the eaves of the rotting shed. The gravel that ran along the back fence was almost completely obscured by moss, and the little stone angel tucked into a corner was spotted with bird shit again.
Chris slid down the fence to sit with the angel and looked back at the bungalow through heavy eyes.
“Guess neither of you would’ve seen this coming, huh?”
Mum had bought the angel to serve as a grave marker of sorts after they’d scattered Tim’s ashes in the garden. Chris had scattered hers at the exact same spot. And though he didn’t really believe they could hear him or they existed in some other reality or level of existence, he’d always found a little comfort in coming out into the garden. First to talk to Tim, and now to talk to Mum, too.
God knew he hadn’t been able to talk to them when they’d been alive.
“I’m moving away,” he told the angel. “I’m selling the house and I’m moving to Cornwall. I’m going to start somewhere new.”
Somewhere that he could be himself.
“I’m going with my boyfriend. And his boyfriend.”
Saying the words out loud—here in Mum’s garden, next to Tim’s angel—was followed by a dizzy rush. Something snapped in his chest. A weight across the back of his neck eased.
“You’d both hate Gabriel,” he said. “He’s gay. Acts it, looks it, is it. And poly. He loves both me and Aled, and he has this other guy who’s like family to him as well, and he still has random hookups every now and then because he likes trying out sex with new people occasionally. You’d think he’s a real freak.”
Mum wouldn’t say it out loud, but Tim would have. Even if he’d worked past the whole Chris-was-with-a-dude thing. He’d probably have tried to go and thump Gabriel or something.
“He’s trans, too. And he wouldn’t care if you hated that. He’d laugh in your faces and say he was living a better life than you were. You know, sometimes he says I need to learn that trick.”
He took a deep breath and ripped the plaster off the wound.
“I know you were both ashamed of me.”
A breeze rippled through the garden, shaking shrub leaves and disturbing a few enterprising bees from their tasks. One landed briefly on Chris’ hand before righting itself and zipping away again.
Just weather, but somehow it felt like a denial.
“I know you were,” Chris said. “And so was I. For the longest time. But now—”
Now he was moving in with a partner and his partner’s partner, and he didn’t care about what it looked like. He wasn’t afraid of Aled like he had been in the past. He’d shaken off the family wisdom that a gay relationship was inferior, that polyamory was cheating, that there was any happiness or permanence in relationships that weren’t like theirs had always been.
He leaned back against the fence and smiled at the sparrows watching him suspiciously from the roof.
“I’m starting over where I’m just me. Just Chris. Not your weird kid or weird brother. And if people figure out I have a boyfriend, good for them. I can take ’em. And if people think I’m gay, then whatever. I’m not going to worry about it anymore.”
Maybe he hadn’t figured out all the sex stuff yet, and maybe he’d experiment a little bit more in the future, a
nd maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d get used to saying he was asexual. Maybe he’d figure out what the hell his romantic orientation was supposed to be. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
And maybe he wouldn’t.
“It doesn’t matter like I thought it did.”
Chapter Sixteen
It was half-past-six on Sunday before Aled got home.
He couldn’t remember if Gabriel was working that afternoon or not, and the text he’d sent from the motorway services when he’d stopped for a leak had gone unanswered. But he pulled up outside the house just in time to see the lights go on upstairs, and figured that he’d either catch Gabriel in his cycling gear and heading for the shower, or with another man.
He was wrong on both counts.
He let himself in to find tools all over the hall floor, a freshly painted and rehung living room door, and the smell of sawdust permeating everything. The banisters had been sanded down and repainted, and a bucket of dirty water by the radiator said it had finally been bled.
Upstairs, the bathroom door closed.
Aled tossed out the filthy water then locked the front door and headed up, shedding his outer layers on the way. Gabriel was singing when Aled rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door, and it stopped instantly.
“I’m ho-ome,” Aled called through the wood.
The door was flung open, and a messy mixture of paint, dust and human being threw its arms around his neck.
“Hello,” Aled said, laughing at the exuberance. “Been busy?”
“The boiler failed at work so they’re closed until tomorrow when the engineer can come out,” Gabriel explained. “Good trip? Successful? Are we buying a house?”
“Yes, yes and yes,” Aled said, ruffling Gabriel’s hair. It was greyer than an old man’s, and he raised his eyebrows at the battered face. “What happened to you?”
“Kevin.”
“Ahh. Have fun?”
“Yep. Then came home and finished up a few chores.”
“Hence the dust?”
“Hence the dust.”
“You need a wash.”
“So do you. You smell like a petrol station and that shitty air freshener.”
“You smell like a B&Q store.”
“Better than your shitty air freshener. Care to join me?”
Aled never passed on an offer to share the shower, even if he had no real urge to fuck. Naked, wet Gabriel might change his dick’s mind. And even if he stayed switched off, the view would still be better than the tiles on his own.
“You’ll be pleased to know the place we’ve picked has an over-the-bath shower instead of a cubicle,” he said, herding Gabriel back into the bathroom and shutting the door behind them. “You can have one of your post-game soaks in the tub again.”
“Thank God,” Gabriel said. “Which reminds me. Before you freak out, this was an accident.”
He turned his back and wriggled out of his grubby T-shirt. Aled didn’t have to ask what he meant. Several savage stripes criss-crossed his back—telltale signs of a whipping—and one was held together by a row of neat black stitches.
“What happened?” Aled asked, tracing it gently with his thumb.
“You’ll laugh.”
“Go on, then…”
“So Kevin picked me up from work on Friday for some fun and games because Judith’s taken the kids to see their nan for the weekend, and you know how Kevin and his in-laws get on…”
“Uh-huh.”
“So we’re playing this slave-training game, and I wanted a really good, deep, savage fuck, so I wasn’t behaving and Kevin decides to beat me. So he gets me tied up and face-down over the coffee table and he’s going away at my back and it’s one of those where he won’t stop until I safeword, so I’m trying to draw it out as long as possible…”
Aled winced. He wasn’t a fan of getting that brutal. He leaned forward and kissed one of the pink welts before cupping Gabriel’s neck in both hands and starting a massage.
“Fuck, that’s nice…”
“So what happened? Not like Kevin to miss.”
“Turns out last week they finally bought a kitten for the girls.”
“Oh my God…”
“And we usually play in the workshop so of course I wasn’t exactly expecting a hairy thing to attack my hair.”
Aled chuckled. “Oh Christ, I can see where this is going.”
“So I lurch up screaming, thinking there’s a rat hanging off my head, and wham. Belt comes down and the buckle splits me open from top to toe and there’s blood everywhere and Kevin’s calling for red and I’m just like, ‘Get this fucking vermin off my fucking face!’ because I’ve got a blindfold on and I can’t see for shit and then he’s like, ‘It’s just a kitten. What the hell did you think it was?’ And then it runs off under the sofa and Kevin’s saying I need to go to hospital because he’s ripped a strip off me, and all I’m thinking is I never got my orgasm.”
“Trust you,” Aled remarked. “And this is not Kevin’s handiwork. What did you tell the A&E staff?”
“The truth,” Gabriel said chirpily. “The doctor wanted to sink through the floor and die. Or maybe call the cops, not sure.”
“I’ll bet,” Aled said, smirking. “I take it you shut the kitten out after that?”
“Well, Kevin just took me home and fucked me regular, but I guess so. Once it’s healed and I can goad him into beating me again.”
“Think that’s going to be a scar before you’ll manage that,” Aled said.
“Nah, he’ll just be more creative until it’s ready.”
“When most people say creative, they mean painting or writing poetry. Not how to torture someone without causing more damage from the last time you tortured someone.”
Gabriel just rolled his head back into Aled’s palms and grinned up at him. “I’m not most people.”
“Clearly,” Aled drawled, then kissed him between the eyes. “Get in that shower then, and I’ll give you a proper back massage.”
“Ooh, yes please.”
Aled had learned quite a few massage techniques after Gabriel’s car accident, to help with the vertigo and depression. And it paid off in spades when he sank his thumbs into Gabriel’s shoulder blade and watched the knot pop and dissipate as Gabriel groaned like a porn star. He worked under the hot water until all the stiffness had been eradicated, then—rather than reaching for the shower gel and scrubbing—Gabriel simply turned around, looped his arms around Aled’s neck, and kissed him.
They had had vanilla sex perhaps four or five times in their entire relationship. But up against the tiles and with miles of hot, wet skin to explore, Aled couldn’t be bothered turning it into a game. He sank to his knees and blew Gabriel as slowly and tantalisingly as possible, and only reached for the soap when it was over.
“Thanks,” Gabriel mumbled, resting his head against Aled’s shoulder as Aled washed the muck out of that inky hair. “M’t go to sleep now.”
“No dinner?”
“Feed me tomorrow.”
Aled chuckled, kissing his forehead. “Yeah, well, stay awake long enough to get into bed, okay?”
“No pr’mises…”
Sure enough, he catnapped pretty much immediately after getting dried off and tipped into bed, but Aled wasn’t bothered. Gabriel had developed a habit of power naps during his recovery and hadn’t really shaken it. By the time Aled had puttered about with the vacuum cleaner and tidied up the remnants of DIY and house painting, Gabriel had burrowed into the duvet, woken up a bit and put a film on.
“Come on,” he said, patting Aled’s side of the bed when Aled checked in on him. “Come hug me. And tell me about our new house!”
Aled turned the volume down and did as he was told, sliding into the bed and immediately ending up with a lapful.
“Sure you want us to put an offer in without you seeing it?”
“Show me which one it was out of the options.”
Aled called up the list on his phone. Gabriel had gone th
rough with him to help choose some likely candidates, but he’d not been all that specific about what he was after until he wrote his list. He’d certainly never mentioned a favourite option.
“There.”
“Ooh, the one in the country. I thought you wanted to be closer?”
“To be honest, I fell a bit in love,” Aled admitted. “And Chris was keen as well.”
“So make me fall in love.”
“It’s private, Chris and I will take a bungalow each and you can spread yourself out across both, there’s a nice spot in the yard for your hammock and there’s space for a playroom.”
Gabriel’s ears pricked up. “A playroom?”
“Yup. Big cellar underneath with stairs up into both bungalows.”
“Ooh.”
“We can put up a dividing wall if Chris wants some storage space, or leave it open.”
“He’s not exactly going to want to join us.”
Aled decided to keep their anal sex discussion to himself and moved swiftly on.
“Only thing missing is a garage. If we make enough profit from this place, we could have one built. Or we could just buy a shed for the bikes and call it a day.”
“It’s proper in the country, then?”
“Yep. Road outside turns into a single dirt track after another couple of hundred yards.”
“Wow,” Gabriel breathed. “I’m going to live in the country.”
“Big dream of yours?” Aled asked.
“Not really. I never dared to dream about it,” Gabriel admitted. He took Aled’s phone and started swiping through the pictures. “I mean, when I still wanted to shag everything that moved, the country would have sucked. But with you and Chris and I guess Daz again now we’re going South…”