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Lips pursed, Piers Nivans shifted his weight to his left foot, and he moved the heavy basket of groceries to his right hand. Looking at his watch, he greatly considered coming back, but feet planted, he stayed. If he didn’t, there was a good chance he wouldn’t come back, and this was a step he needed to take. After another fifteen minutes, he finally reached the front of the line, the pharmacist asking for his information. Piers gave his birthday and name.
“Picking up two prescriptions?”
“Yeah, two.”
“And have you taken them before?” the pharmacist asked.
“No, this is the first time,” Piers responded as he put the basket of groceries down to pay for the meds.
“Would you like me to go over these medications with you?”
“No, thank you. My psychiatrist went over them with me about an hour ago,” Piers said.
The bag put on top of the rest of his groceries, he walked away from the counter and started to head to the checkout line. Rolling up the bag as much as possible, Piers slipped it into his jacket pocket when it was his turn at the cash register.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” the cashier asked.
“And then some,” Piers said with a little laugh.
~~~
Piers had been living by himself for about six months. The apartment wasn’t particularly large, a one-bedroom just outside of downtown, but he loved it. The building was old, but it gave the apartment a certain feeling, something grounded and safe, it having been there well before him providing comfort. Not everything was different since that day. Piers shook his head. That was the third time he’d thought about Lanshiang today, a little quiver in his right hand the more he lingered on it. Putting both of the grocery bags in one arm, he started to dig around his pocket. When he realized his keys were in the other pocket, he switched hands and wrestled to get them out and into the lock.
The lock always needed a little jiggle. Piers got the key to turn and pushed the door open. Walking inside, he put one of the bags down and reached over to the light switch on the wall. Illuminated, the clean space was perfectly put together, the furniture new and well kept. Most of the furniture he’d had in his old place, before…(NO!), was taken to consignment stores by his parents. A visit with them right after his time at the lake house with Chris proved that living with them would be impossible, a potential plan he’d had when he’d been cleared to live with the general public. He’d officially been deemed ‘fine for reintegration.’ How kind of them. Five months at a lake house. There were worse ways to be considered ‘clean.’
“Don’t think like that,” Piers said to himself as he put his groceries away.
Piers’s parents seemed like a good first step to moving on from it all. Chris, Jill, and Claire understood what it was like to deal with the effects of doing what he did. Piers thought that maybe his parents could be a good litmus for getting used to a world completely surrounded by people that didn’t quite understand, or never would. It wasn’t a test like the lab or the lake house, but it ended up being worse than a test. They were kind, and certainly they loved him, but there was always a generalized fear of him being around. It was how he was when he first saw Chris again. Piers didn’t dare touch him. His parents, well, they didn’t sustain his progress, and he knew he had to leave.
Chris helped him find an apartment. Claire set him up with the psychiatrist he saw. Jill helped him fight for a stipend and a desk job with the BSAA. After six months of working payroll part-time, Claire suggested he apply for a position with TerraSave. A part of him couldn’t find the heart to completely leave the BSAA, him wanting to keep an eye on them just as much as they wanted to keep an eye on him, but after a successful interview, he held down two part-time jobs with two very different organizations.
“What exactly are you going to be doing?” Jill asked him over coffee.
“I’m a Process Coordinator. I’m going to help them streamline initiatives and communication to make more efficient deployment.”
“Fancy,” she said as she downed her cup of coffee.
“You know caffeine is habit forming, right?”
“Listen, Piers. I need a vice, and if it isn’t alcohol, and it isn’t smoking, and it isn’t hunting a man that started the downward spiral of my life in 1998, it’s going to be caffeine. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
“Now, tell me congratulations for being ten months sober,” Jill said, “and then shut up.”
“Congratulations on being ten months sober.”
“Thank you. Now, shut up.”
Piers watched her get up and order a second large coffee. He told her he was actually quite proud of her, and she reminded him that he was supposed to be quiet. She held him to that for the rest of their hour long coffee date.
Piers cracked his neck and stretched before he got onto the mat. Jill got into a crouched position, a wicked smile on her face. Piers didn’t know if she could hear the gulp he made, but as she lurched forward, he took a defensive stance and blocked her first kick. Catching a punch, he pushed her away, forcing a little distance.
“So, have you talked to Chris recently?” Jill asked as she swayed left and right.
Piers was so focused on trying to follow her movements, he didn’t answer. A moment later she pulled a roundhouse kick, and when he stepped back, she recovered, slid across the mat and tripped him. Scampering, she got on top of him, but he was able to kick her away, and as she tried to regain her balance, he got an arm around her and slammed her to the ground.
“No, I haven’t talked to Chris recently,” he responded.
Jill took no time in getting back up. The attack shocking, she full drop-kicked him. Piers flew to the edge of the mat as Jill landed hard on her side. Piers tried to catch his breath, but she knocked the wind straight out of him.
“What’s the hold up?”
Piers rolled over, a pained expression on his face before, “You know I do this for exercise, not so you can harm me.”
“Yeah, but you go all out, so it’s good practice, not to mention if I hurt you, you get better quick. Remember when I broke your nose and it took two hours to heal? Now, stop avoiding the question.”
Piers looked away from her, a small wave of dizziness. He stood up, went over to his gym bag and took his virus concentration. It was reaching forty. Piers gave himself a shot and sat on the bleachers for a second.
“You’re getting pretty good at knowing when it’s going high,” Jill pointed out, “and you’re really good about seeing your doctors, and your psychiatrist, and making healthy choices.”
“Your point?” Piers said with a sneer.
“I just want to know what’s going through your head.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t pry,” he laughed.
“You’re the one that asked me to be friends with you,” Jill said as she slapped him in the back of the head.
“And all it’s done has cause me misery.”
When the igniter on his stove refused to light the gas, he put his fingers near the burner and gave a little snap. A spark started the burner just as he pulled his hand away. Piers still found cooking difficult. It had never been something he’d willed himself to learn, but he decided that if he was to keep going, he wanted to learn, try to push himself in directions that he’d never thought to go. Chris was with him when the director of the BSAA asked Piers if he saw himself in the field again. As the oil crackled, the vegetables thrown in the pan to brown, Piers couldn’t shake that had Chris not been there, the conversation may have been different.
Chris had given Piers the courage to speak his mind in the meeting, and spoke for him when he couldn’t find his voice. Chris decried his treatment when he was first found, being trapped in a lab for a year and a half, the trauma that came with that on top of what Piers had endured for the sake of the mission.
It was after the meeting that Piers told Chris the two of them couldn’t be together. Chris’s shock was enough to make Piers second guess himself, the feeling continuing to linger, but he knew it was what he needed.
“Can you at least tell me why?” Chris asked. “I thought we were really starting something.”
“I need to know I can take care of myself before I can do this,” Piers said, inelegant but sincere.
Chris was hurt but understanding, and it certainly didn’t stop him from advocating for Piers when he needed to. He was quick to check up on Piers at work, answer calls and texts with haste, and overall be a supportive friend. Piers might have hated it, but it was what he’d needed more than anything, and he was finally in a place to understand that. Their relationship was complicated, something they had to talk about several times at the lake house. Too much was happening all at once, another constant conversation. What Piers admired most about the way Chris handled the breakup (of sorts) was that at no point did Piers feel he was just hanging around until the moment was right. It didn’t stop Piers from needing distance, especially after he finally accepted the diagnosis from his psychiatrist. It was easier to pretend it was just something that was going to go away, but another condition, and another on top of what was already happening to him. Piers didn’t need to complicate it again, and that was what started happening with Chris being around.
The timing was never right. That’s what he should have told Jill when she asked what the hold up was. He just needed to keep away from Chris for awhile. They were close, and they were friends, but he just needed to make sure he could take care of himself. Again. One big life choice at a time: Try to start a relationship with someone or admit you have mental illness and seek treatment. The choice was obvious, especially for what he’d decided he wanted for himself.
But why couldn’t both of those things amount to what he wanted?
Piers stirred some chicken into the pot and added a little more oil, salt, and pepper. He prepared a salad and tried his best to make a homemade vinaigrette, though the flavor was still a little off; it was better than he’d done in the past, and he counted it as a win. His psychiatrist reminded him to keep track of things, no matter how small, that he progressed with. Taking public transportation to work everyday was a big win, and homemade salad dressing was a small one. Learning to light the burner by snapping his fingers: small. Finally deciding to take care of his nightmares, anxiety, and PTSD: big.
Pulling the pill bottles out of the bag from the pharmacy, he looked at the labels to confirm the dosage. Taking one pill from each bottle, he put them on his tongue and drank from the faucet to get them down. Looking in the mirror for a second, he then glanced down at his watch. Part of the fun was not knowing how his virus concentration might react to new medications, so for the first night he made plans. Piers had already made up the couch, and Jill was coming over to spend the night and make sure nothing crazy happened while he was sleeping. If anything, it would make him feel more comfortable, and he considered knowing that important in and of itself.
A knock at the door.
Piers left the bathroom a little puzzled that no one rang the buzzer. Jill didn’t have a key to the building, and when he opened the front door, his frozen, perplexed expression was atypical of how he greeted guests.
“I’m guessing that look means Jill didn’t speak with you about not being able to come over tonight,” Chris said with obvious embarrassment.
“No. No, she didn’t,” Piers replied.
“I doubt she’s actually doing anything. I can go get her.”
Chris turned to leave, but Piers grabbed a hold of his arm, and he stopped.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to run across town. She’ll probably just pretend like she isn’t home anyway.”
“Sorry I didn’t buzz you. I just used the key you gave me,” Chris said as he held it up.
“If I remember correctly, the BSAA voluntold me to give you that key in case of emergencies, and I’m clearly not in distress,” Piers grinned at him, “but I’ll give you a pass.”
He stepped out of the way, and Chris entered the apartment, a small overnight bag slung across his shoulder. Chris deduced the couch was set up for him, and Piers went to the kitchen to get him something to drink. It had been about a month since they had seen each other in person, though they’d kept in touch through text, so the conversation wasn’t completely stilted, but there were some obvious strains.
“Are you hungry?” Piers asked. “I can make something for you if you are.”
“No, I ate before I came,” Chris replied. “Did you already take the meds?”
“Yeah. I was told they’re pretty sedative, so if I just randomly nod off, that’s probably why.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“Not that I can think of.”
The two of them sat on the couch and caught up a little bit. Most of it was stuff that they both already knew, but there was something more concrete speaking about it together. Almost immediately they were laughing, talking about disparate topics that stemmed from the slightest mentions in their conversation, but finally it reached the point where someone had to say it.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” Chris asked.
“No,” Piers said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why I haven’t I seen you in a month? You kept telling me you were busy, but then Jill would talk to me about how you two had coffee together five times in a week.”
“That’s because we work in the same building,” Piers pointed out.
“Piers, we work in the same building.”
“You got me there.”
Chris laughed as he adjusted in his seat. Piers could see he wanted to press it, but instead he just stared off into the distance, like he was trying to clear the need for a more definitive conclusion.
“Ever since the lake house, and even before, honestly, I’ve been trying my best to figure out what my future looks like,” Piers said, attempting to explain.
Chris returned his attention, and he adjusted to better look at Piers.
“My future was always dictated by my choice, right? That’s pretty obvious, I think. So, my future was always consumed with what I did in the past, and all I could do was think about the past because I just assumed I had no future because of it. It was a pretty vicious cycle, and it’s not going to end any time soon, but I’ve finally gotten to a point where I’m able to see that, yeah, my future is there, and I can’t tell what it looks like because there really isn’t any way to know, and not even in that you-can’t-predict-the-future kind of way. In a very, much more, nebulous kind of way.”
Chris looked concerned, but there was a slight smile on his face, that sort of knowing smile that he was hearing something important, important to a person he cared about. It was the smile that Piers had seen a million times, that he smiled when a man in his company told them about some life event of a family member, at celebrations on successful missions, and when he learned that Claire had reached work destinations safely. It was the smile of a man that was happy to listen.
“I’ve finally gotten to a point where I’m not as afraid of myself, and that’s kind of frightening to me. I’ve gotten to a point where making decisions now is more important to me than how they’re going to affect where I end up, and that’s also scary to me. I’m reaching a point where I don’t have to worry about what the next week looks like because I know it’s there. Not like that night I knocked on your door at the lake house. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Chris said.
“Good, um, I know I’m kind of rambling.”
“You aren’t.”
“Well, all that’s to say, that I know for a fact there are going to be a lot of constants in my life, and the best thing I can do is learn to figure out how to make it all work. Some of the good constants in my life are you, Claire, and Jill. I know you’re going to be around because, well, I just know it. That’s it. Period. You’re non-negotiable in my life, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like it was any other way, even for a month, an hour, hell, a minute.”
“I was just afraid you thought I was hanging around because…”
“You don’t even need to finish that statement, Chris. I didn’t think you were just hanging around for any reason other than to be an amazing friend,” Piers said. “I just needed to sort a few things, and I think I got it figured out.”
Feeling a bit exhausted, Piers excused himself, a sort of damp tired clouding his mind as he walked to his room. It didn’t take long for his head to feel heavy, a sort of drowsiness he’d never felt before. All at once he was alert but incapable of moving fast enough to keep up with the way he was feeling. Piers couldn’t quite place the sensation, but it was unpleasant and startling enough to make him want to be asleep as soon as possible. That’s seriously what his body was calling for, but his mind hesitated, a bit fearful of this new state. His body won in the end.
~~~
“Wake up, Piers!”
Piers felt a few light slaps to his face, but no matter how much he wanted to open his eyes, he could barely peel the lids away from each other. The light in the room was painful, and his head refused comprehension. There was this simultaneous need for action and a lethargy that couldn’t be contained. Piers felt trapped in a way
he’d never experienced before. A sudden rush as he pulled himself up on his elbows.
“Come on,” he heard Chris say.
“What’s happening?” drawled from his mouth, but it felt so foreign.
“You’re at seventy-six,” Chris said. “I’m going to give you a shot.”
“Okay,” Piers said as he fell back against his pillow.
The pressure was there, but it felt so delayed. He could barely say yes when Chris asked him if he needed water. A snap, Piers could feel his right shoulder buckle slightly, and then a pop. That probably wasn’t good.
It took a total of twenty minutes for him to feel like he could move concurrently with his thoughts, but there was still a gap. He knew that he was talking and acting in line with how he was thinking, but it still felt delayed. His right arm hadn’t completely changed, but the high virus concentration did start some preliminary mutations. There was the insane grogginess from the medication and the dizziness of a high virus concentration happening all at the same time, and it was an intense combo.
Chris helped him into the bathroom, and after a quick shower, he came into his room to find Chris changing the sheets, the old ones a bit soiled from the mutation. A few breaths through embarrassment, Piers went to the hall closet and got a new set of sheets, the two putting them on the bed in silence. When they were done, Piers looked despondently at the bed. He hadn’t had a spike like that in two months, and his mind was flooded and exhausted at the same time. When Chris gave him a tight hug, Piers began to cry into his chest, his hands squeezing Chris’s shoulders.
“I’m just trying to make the right choices.”
“You are,” Chris said. “You are.”
~~~
His psychiatrist requested, if he was willing, to try again for another night. Piers explained to Chris over breakfast that she believed it was just a dream that caused a panic attack, but since the medication sedated him, he couldn’t wake up the way he usually did when the dreams got too intense. Reluctant, Piers told his psychiatrist he’d try another night. Chris nodded along. He was told that he’d eventually adjust to the sedation, but for now, it was a wait-and-see.
“Would you be willing to stay over again? I know it’s probably a lot to ask after not getting much sleep last night,” Piers said. "It must of been fun hearing my night terrors."
“Of course I’ll spend the night again. Don’t worry about last night. We’ll make sure this works,” Chris replied as he picked up a pretty burnt piece of toast.
“Don’t actually eat that. I’m still not very good at cooking.”
“A little extra crispy never hurt anyone.”
The crunch rang through the apartment, and when Chris pulled his face away from the burnt toast, he inhaled slightly and coughed out a bunch of charcoaled crumbs. Piers pushed Chris’s glass closer to his hand as cough after cough kept Chris from doing much of anything else.
“I put the more burnt side face down so you wouldn’t notice,” Piers said. “I need a new toaster.”
“Didn’t you grill this?” Chris replied, eyes red and face flushed.
“I did, but I’m distraught.”
When Chris left, Piers took no time in calling Jill to berate her for the little trick she’d played. She quickly used sympathy for the trouble he’d had the night before to make him feel guilty for calling her to yell, and before he could realize her trap, she convinced him to forgive her. It didn’t help that when Piers told her that Chris was coming to spend the night again, she just made a telling click with her tongue.
“It’s better than asking you and you bail again,” Piers said.
“That hurt,” she replied, “but you’re not wrong. Did he ask you, by the way?”
“Ask me what?”
“Oh, shit. I gave too much away.”
Piers got very little information out of her before she made an excuse and hung up the phone. Jill wasn’t exactly one to play games, but she certainly was someone that hated inaction. She was trying to help in some way, but about what, Piers had no idea. All he could do was assume anything and everything was nefarious. Before he tried to figure out the plot, he decided he’d take a nap. The dishes from breakfast could wait until he felt better.
Not willing to subject Chris to another round of cooking, Piers ordered pizza for the two of them. When it was time, he stood in the bathroom and stared at the pill bottles. If there was one thing he’d come to understand, it was that healing took a long time, and that he had a long way to go before he’d truly cope. The stall in taking the pills didn’t come from the transformation last night, or even that they wouldn’t work because they could try something new if this wasn’t the answer. He hesitated because when he looked in the mirror, he saw himself for the first time in a long time. It was shocking, but he remembered Claire telling him that he should take a good, long look and be someone he cared about. Was that something that could happen in a moment, when someone wasn’t expecting it?
Piers Nivans stood in front of the mirror in his one-bedroom apartment just outside of downtown, and he was trying to manage his illnesses, and he was listening to his doctors, and building relationships, and riding the bus, and the more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t help but smile at his reflection. He was trying to make good choices, and sometimes that meant being afraid of what might come next but doing what needed to be done regardless.
There would always be a long way to go, but he was proud to put in the work.
He washed the pills down with some water and returned to the couch for the end of the movie he and Chris had started. About forty minutes later, when he could barely keep his head up, that now familiar lethargy and tired circling around him, he got into bed, virus concentration checked, and fell asleep.
Piers didn’t know that he could crave the sound of his alarm so badly, but when he heard his phone begin to buzz on his bedside table, he reached over, turned the alarm off, and stretched his arms and legs. No pops, no snaps, no mutations, and while he still felt tired, groggy, and knew that nightmares were probably buried in there somewhere deep, it felt good to make it all the way through the night. It felt like the first time in a long while.
Chris stirred about the time that Piers finished making some coffee. Thankfully, a machine actually did contribute to it brewing, so if it tasted terrible he actually had something to blame it on. He poured a cup for both of them.
“Successful night,” Chris said.
“Looks that way. I checked my virus concentration, and it was low, so that’s a good sign,” Piers replied.
They clinked mugs.
“You gave me a real scare the first night. I didn’t realize the nightmares were so bad,” Chris said.
“I was good at hiding some things at the lake house.”
“I can see that.”
They went out and got breakfast, and they talked about themselves with such grandeur, the kind only afforded to those held closest in life; it felt natural. The coffee at the diner was better than what he'd brewed earlier, but Chris tried to convince him otherwise. Piers appreciated it. The eggs were certainly better than the ones Piers made the morning before, but again, Chris disagreed.
“You’re patronizing me,” Piers said with a laugh.
“Am not! I like my eggs simultaneously rubbery and overly runny. It’s a real combination of textures.”
After the check was paid, they returned to Piers’s place so that Chris could retrieve his belongings. At the door, the briefest pause, the kind a man wanting to ask a particular question would make.
Be brave, Chris Redfield.
“Are you planning on going to that BSAA benefit? The gala thing?” Chris asked.
Piers shook his head and said, “I wasn’t planning on it, actually. I try to keep a low profile around the BSAA these days. Sit in my little room and leave when the clock strikes four.”
“Hey, that’s fine. I figured I’d see if you’d like to ride together or something if you were going. I’m feeling pretty pressured. Apparently, they’re going to honor the original eleven of us that started it.”
“I could see why they’d be pretty upset if you weren’t there,” Piers said.
“Yeah. There aren’t a whole lot of us left, so I’d feel pretty bad if I didn’t make it.”
They lingered.
Chris finally reached over and gave Piers a hug, and he told him not to wait so long to see him again. Piers watched him sling the bag over his shoulder. Those ever present anxieties, the constant need to remind himself of the past, and to assert that the future was ambiguous at best, tried so hard to get him to shut the door.
There was never a right time, so why even start? He told the feeling to shut up. Piers was tired of seeing Chris walk away.
“Like a date?” he called down the hall.
Chris stopped and turned. The stupid grin was wide and impish, but it was wiped away immediately, a sort of stony, cool stance taken before he said, “I mean, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Piers repeated with a laugh.
~~~
“This is the ninth place I’ve checked with,” Piers said with great frustration. “I need a tux or suit by next Wednesday.”
“I can see why I’m the ninth place you talked to. It’ll be even longer for me. I’m the only tailor,” the man behind the counter said.
“Everywhere just kept saying it’s wedding season. Isn’t it always wedding season?”
“Do you need the suit for a wedding?” the tailor asked sarcastically. “Grooms are notoriously late to get their clothing made.”
“It’s for a UN sanctioned paramilitary organization’s benefit gala that I’m attending with my old superior officer that I may or may not have had a strange romantic relationship with for a few months while I was recovering from serious trauma related to a chronic illness and PTSD,” Piers dumped.
“There’s a lot to unpack there.”
Piers nodded. “This is the first expensive, non-essential item I’ve had the chance to buy for myself since feeling good enough to do it, and I just want to look good and feel confident, and I want him to make a really stupid face when he sees me. It’s the first time we’ve used the term ‘date’ when talking about going out.”
“Fine. I may actually be able to help you,” the tailor said. “You look about the same size, so long as you’re willing to only have one fitting.”
“I am!”
The tailor walked him further into the shop and explained that a groom, funnily enough, had purchased a tailored suit, but his wife strongly disapproved. Piers saw why when the suit was brought out. A deep breath in, Piers calculated just how well he’d be able to pull the suit off, and his guess was pretty low. If it was the only option he had, he winced when he said he’d go for it.
At least Chris would make a stupid face when he saw him.
~~~
The buzzer went off, and Piers went to ring Claire in. She’d come into town for the event and wanted to see him as soon as she could. It was the first time they’d gotten to see each other face to face since the lake house, and they were both excited at the opportunity.
Piers gave her a little tour of the apartment, especially since there wasn’t much to see. She noted how organized everything was, that even his fridge looked perfectly regimented when she grabbed a beer, nothing out of place. The cap popped off, she threw it in the recycling and the two of them sat at his kitchen table. They were reaching a point, and quickly, where they too could return to a conversation where it ended months ago and feel like no time was lost in between. Their phone calls grew more frequent, but seeing her in person was always an experience. Her friendship was valuable, even if it was far away, and Piers made sure to take the time to let her know that.
“Gross,” she said with a smile, “but I feel the exact same way, so less gross, I think.”
“How do you feel about me actually dating your brother? Be honest.”
Claire took a swig of the beer and said, “I don’t want to do the whole ‘it’s about time’ thing, so instead I’ll say I’m glad you feel like you’ve reached a place where that’s something that’s possible for you. I’m glad you’re finally giving yourself a little credit.”
A laugh, “Yeah, I think I’m finally getting what you meant.”
“Also, don’t worry too much about it. He’s just as nervous as you probably are. He told me it was the first time you guys have gone on an official date, which can’t be right. I assumed he was misremembering.”
“Actually…”
“No shit!” she shouted. “Really? Damn, then a gala is a real mood to go with. I’d be nervous as hell.”
“You’re not helping,” Piers said.
“I’m infinitely more complex than just a helping hand, but speaking of helping hands, tell me about the job at TerraSave. I’m really excited for you to start, even if it’s only part time.”
Piers went to the fridge and got a beer for himself. He’d forgotten what the whirlwind was like even if he enjoyed being sucked into it.
~~~
Jill and Claire decided to meet them at the gala. Jill insisted that she ride with the two of them, but Chris was swift to shut the idea down, much to Jill’s dismay. She asserted that without her, this would have taken a few more years to come to fruition. Neither of them chose to argue with her on that front, but at the same time, they decided that they wanted to do this the old-fashioned way. Whatever that meant for the strange and random nature of their ever evolving relationship.
When the knock on the door came, Piers stood up from the couch. He’d been sitting there, ready to go, for about an hour. It wasn’t that Chris was so late, just that Piers didn’t know what to do with his nervous energy, so it meant getting ready and staring at a wall for an hour. What should he say when he answered the door? Should he be snarky, sarcastic, or maybe kind and flattering?
As he was opening the door, he realized that he hadn’t taken the time to properly formulate what his plan of attack was, but now it was too late.
The door completely open, Piers let out a sigh as he stood and looked at Chris in his well-pressed tux. When he wanted to, the man could clean up nice. Even his facial hair was kept in check, and he’d done something with his hair, tamed it in some way, a thing Piers had never seen in his time with Chris. Most importantly, and without a doubt, he was making a gobsmacked face.
Piers wanted to ask if the suit was too much, but instead he said, “I thought I told you that key was only for emergencies. I didn’t buzz you in.”
“Who cares,” he replied. “Look at you.”
Piers took a step back. The suit was tailored extremely well, especially for how quick the turnover was. The base color was black, and it was a wildly vibrant floral print with intricate patterns of petals and leaves. Pinks, blues, purples, and reds popped against the dark layers. His bowtie matched. Piers’s face was clean shaven, his hair washed and coiffed as best he could. He’d even tried his best at using a hair dryer, usually just putting gel on his hands and rubbing his fingers through. He'd worked at it, and he thought he looked nice, but above all, he felt confident.
“I know it’s a little out of character for me, but it was literally the only thing I could find on such short notice, and I’m not even going to pretend I don’t love it,” Piers said.
Chris took a step forward, kissing Piers, and Piers melting slightly in his arms. He didn’t even try to mitigate how good it felt.
“I know you usually end a first date that way,” Chris said.
“I think we’ve done a pretty bad job of doing this in a standard fashion, so I’m not mad,” Piers said, still held, still melting.
They couldn’t stop taking each other in, and they were both okay with it.
~~~
When they arrived, Piers and Chris certainly got some looks. Piers made some assumptions: It was Chris being one of the honorees, it was people seeing Piers’s suit, it was the nature of their relationship. All were refuted when Piers and Chris met Jill and Claire inside.
“Claire told me I shouldn’t do this, but I’m going to,” Jill said as she handed Piers a tumbler with something strong smelling inside.
“I was planning on having a few drinks, so it’s okay,” Piers said.
“No. Not that,” Jill replied in all seriousness. “This isn’t going to be fun.”
“What do you mean?” Chris asked.
Piers felt the mood of the date change drastically, and Claire looked away, but not out of anger or spite of Jill, but like she didn’t want to hear what was about to come because she knew how true it was.
“They’re going to be terrible to you, Piers,” Jill said. “Most of them won’t mean anything by it, and some of it will be innocent, but this is going to hurt you. Trust me.”
“Jill!” Chris shouted, and a few people turned to look at them.
“You listen,” she said, pointing at Chris. “Your job in all this is to be supportive, but know that he can take care of himself. He’s been proving that over and over again. You’re by his side, and you step in only when you need to. If you want this to work, you both need to figure that out as quick as you can.”
“It’s a first date,” Piers said a little defeated. “Can’t it just be a first date? Can’t we just have a good time?”
“It’s not just a first date. They’re going to ask you terrible things, about what happened, about why you did it, and some of them are going to ask you to show or explain things you probably weren’t planning on telling even us for a few more years.”
Claire gave Jill a little hug as she continued, Jill getting more and more distraught as it went along.
“Some of them are going to sleight you, and others are going to call you a hero and they'll make it uncomfortable,” she said.
“Why are you telling us this now?” Chris asked. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
“It was nice, wasn’t it. Seeing each other all dressed up. Calling it a date. Being excited.”
Piers and Chris nodded.
“I didn’t want to take that away from you. Besides, it’s something you’ll have to get used to if you stay a part of this organization, so maybe it’s not so bad getting used to it together.”
“Jill’s just trying to help,” Claire said. “I think we all know that.”
“We do,” Piers said.
“This isn’t just a date. But that doesn’t mean you can’t fight for it to be one,” Jill said as she stepped away.
She wasn’t wrong. Chris stayed close, though he was going to do that without being told, but soon Piers understood why he started getting closer and closer. Some of the questions started off addressed to both of them. Soldiers in the BSAA seeing them together were obviously shocked, and some of them made insinuations that didn’t sit right with Piers, and given the way Chris tried his best to be polite, they didn’t sit well with him either. Certainly a few jokes about nepotism, why Chris had fought so hard for Piers to be the next poster child for the American Division of the BSAA, and then some questions about what happened when they shared hotel rooms when money was tight and they were on leave, all the men pairing up. Even a few members of Chris’s current squad had some strange things to ask as the night went along and the alcohol took hold. Claire and Jill took turns deflecting questions, and at one point Claire had to walk Jill away from a conversation (though Claire would admit to Piers later that she just used it as an excuse to leave herself).
Then it really started, the moment Chris made the mistake of going and getting them both a drink, leaving Piers alone. A group of recruits flocked to him. The first hint of tension was a comment on the suit, a question as to why a soldier might wear something so flamboyant.
“Because I wanted to,” Piers said, ground stood, confidence there but certainly quiet.
“It’s an honor to talk to you. People tell stories about you all the time,” one recruit said, and Piers recalled his conversation with Jill at the lake house, about stories and infamy.
“Is it true what they say about you and Sophie Home in the Oceania branch? About Philosophy University?” another questioned.
“I heard you were there when Merah Biji died,” a question from the third. “I’m in the research division, and I got to say, I figured training from you would have gotten her a little longer in the field.”
“What?” Piers said, aghast.
Chris returned with the drinks and shooed the recruits away.
“For the record, this isn’t fun, but I’m glad I’m with you,” Piers said. “I just want you to know that. Maybe not the best first date, but this doesn’t change anything, okay?”
“Okay,” Chris said.
“Just don’t leave again,” Piers reminded him.
As Jill said, they continued to shift, the questions. They got more personal, even further from the field and more about what it felt like, what was going through his head when he did it. Did he regret it? Was it difficult being a hero? Why didn’t he spend more time with the recruits? Did he ever plan on going back into the field? Could he still have sex?
The virus concentration monitor and Anti-C vaccine in his pockets began to feel extremely heavy.
“This is the men’s room,” someone shouted when Chris, Jill, and Claire followed Piers into the bathroom.
“Gender’s a construct and bathrooms don’t belong to anyone,” Claire shouted at him while Jill gave him the universal sign to beat it.
The man did, and quickly. Claire locked the door behind him. Piers wiped away a few tears at the corners of his eyes, not exactly sad but engulfed and inundated with brazen lack of social mores. He took the time to check his levels while they were in a private space, and he wasn't surprised that they were running a bit high. He gave himself a shot, and Chris handed him a paper towel to keep from getting a splash of blood on his new suit.
It wasn’t even something he’d considered, that people who did know about him could have the gall to ask such questions, to pry into his life the way they attempted tonight. It was the opposite end of what he’d experience from the BSAA before. What was once surgical and precise on the research side was now messy and probing from people he would have served with if things hadn’t changed the way they did in Lanshiang. And there he was thinking about it again, where before he was so focused on his nervousness and excitement for the date.
Piers had a decision to make. Not for the whole evening, but in general, in life, and what once confounded him, forced him to feel trapped and overwhelmed, seemed a little bit more manageable now. Again, that hard work, trying to get to some kind of place, a security in himself, it was paying off. He could allow himself to be wholly upset, or he could channel that embarrassment, anger, and annoyance into something that was still all those things but a sort of terrible humor attached to it.
Piers started to laugh, slowly at first. Another wipe with his left finger under his eyes, he caught the last of the tears and started to laugh confidently. How could people be so inept? But they were, and it was horrible, but he didn’t have the time to instruct them. Piers knew he’d have to, probably more than he’d ever want, but for now, he wanted to stand in the bathroom, decreed to not belong to any gender by Claire Redfield, and laugh with his friends. He found his first date with someone he really cared about absolutely dreadful, and he loved and hated every moment of it simultaneously.
It was better to be consumed and fighting back than just consumed.
~~~
They sneaked out the back of the gala through the kitchen, the staff more than willing to help them out in a pinch. Jill and Chris decided they didn’t mind missing a walk across a stage while a bunch of people gave them stilted applause and thanked them for their service to the world. It wasn’t why they did it.
They shared a cab and dropped Jill off at her apartment building, and then Chris and Piers had the driver stop at Chris’s apartment to let Claire out. Chris insisted on dropping Piers off at his apartment and walking him up to make sure he got inside alright.
At Piers's door they stood, both leaning on one side.
“This was a bust,” Chris said.
“I hope this means our dates can only go up from here,” Piers replied.
“You’d really want to go on another date with me?” that same goofy smile from when he asked Piers to go to the gala.
“Again, and probably again, and maybe even again after that,” Piers said.
Chris stop leaning and he took a step towards Piers. Piers perked up as well.
“Your bowtie’s a little crooked,” Chris said as he reached over and adjusted the floral accouterments. “You really do look great, Piers. I know it wasn’t what we were hoping for.”
“It was fine,” Piers said as he leaned in for a kiss.
Piers attempted to keep kissing Chris while he dug in his pocket and unlocked his door. He managed to get the key in the lock with plenty of jingling and some laughs in between, but the lock betrayed him as it always did, and he had to pull away from Chris and give a few solid jostles before it would unlatch.
First, they fell on the couch, Chris on top of Piers.
“If you wreck this suit I’ll murder you,” Piers said. “I’m very efficient at it.”
“I know,” Chris said as he pulled his jacket off.
“By the way, have you, like, done this before, you know, with another guy…?”
“Once or twice,” Chris said between breaths, a kiss to the neck, but then he stopped. “Wait, have you?”
Piers hadn’t. “Yeah, once or twice.”
Then in the bedroom, the other jacket, the bowties, the shirts, the pants.
“I think this is going somewhere you’re sure you’re okay with?” Chris asked.
“It’s fine, I had them check,” Piers replied.
“A simple ‘yes’ would have done it, but now I’m curious?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Then the undershirts, and finally….
Piers looked at him, the context strange even though it felt like it shouldn’t be surprising in the slightest. They’d seen each other naked a million times, in the barracks, in military vessels where privacy just wasn’t an option, but for some reason, right now he couldn’t help but blush and stifle a laugh. They never did more than kiss or cuddle at the lake house, Piers far too uncomfortable to engage in anything more physical, so having Chris in his bedroom, right now, naked, it was a lot to take in. The nature of their relationship was changing rapidly, and Piers realized he wasn’t as prepared for that as he’d though.
“Don’t laugh. Why are you laughing?” Chris said.
“I’m not laughing,” Piers said, laughing.
“You’re clearly laughing,” Chris said, also laughing.
“What if this makes it weird? I really value your friendship and I don’t want to ruin it,' awkward hanging on every word as it came.
“Now? You’re asking that now?”
Thumbs in the waistband, Piers had yet another decision to make, lower lip bitten with stress. He'd go after something he’d wanted for a while.
He kicked the boxers briefs to the side when they hit the ground.
~~~
Buried in his chest, a little drool from sleeping so hard, Piers snapped awake when the alarm sounded. Unable to focus, still getting used to the meds, he reached over and turned the alarm off. Horrified, he wiped the drool from his face, and tried to play off wiping Chris’s chest as some delicate, sensual thing, but it was decidedly not.
“Oh shit,” Chris said, sitting up.
“What? Are you okay?” Piers asked.
“I’m going to have to do a walk of shame in a tux.”
Arms wrapped around him, Piers laughed and kissed Chris’s shoulder, then neck, then cheek. He told Chris, “You’re more than welcome to spend the day here. At least until a reasonable time to cross the city in a tux.”
“You sure?”
Piers nodded, wholeheartedly.
His mind wanted so badly to wander, to look forward as it had done, encumbered by his past. Their relationship had begun abnormally, so what if that meant it ended in heartache? He was chronically ill, would always be, so what if guilt was the only reason they stayed? He would constantly drift back to Lanshiang (once today already, and it wasn’t even noon), so would the misdirection cause problems sooner than later?
Chris hugged him so tightly when they got out of bed. It reminded him that he’d worked hard to care for himself, to make choices that allowed him to live his life in the present. That was his goal, to feel so comfortable and confident in himself that he didn’t have to be so deterministic. Piers worked hard so that he could make choices for himself that he wanted and needed. This was one of those choices. In the grand scheme of big and small successes, he decided this step was a big one.
He didn’t know that in two years he would be married to Chris, a year after them adopting the child of a fallen comrade. He didn’t know about the big fight that would almost make them break up, or the will, so determined to make it work, that they would reconcile and be stronger than they were before. Him having to go into the field one more time to save Chris’s life was far away, as was getting to attend his kid's high school and college graduation. Piers wouldn’t know that he’d go three years before Chris, and that Chris would miss him every single day. The future was going to be there whether he focused on it or not.
Right now, Piers felt the hug, the kiss on his forehead, and then the one on his lips. He soaked up the present. He would keep counting public transit as a big win, and salad dressing a small one. The first time he showed Chris he could light the stove with a snap was small, but the shocked and amazed face Chris made was big.
He lived in the spark, the spark he felt between them, and the spark he got when he looked at himself in the mirror and cared about Piers Nivans.
Always fighting for himself to moving forward, he knew the little spark would swell into a blaze.