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He’d been gnawing at the skin around his nails every few minutes for the past hour before Deran decided to check on Adrian. He wasn’t really sure there was anything he could say, and part of him felt indignant that Adrian was the one who had made a jab that was out of line. Still, he understood what Adrian was facing, and, if nothing else, just wanted to ensure Adrian was ok.
At some point he’d vaguely registered hearing the back door open and close, but that had been hours ago, so he had hoped Adrian was in the bedroom by now. It was well past dark and he’d seen a mean storm churning out over the water around dusk.
Adrian wasn’t in the bedroom. Damn. His truck was still parked out front, though, and his boards were all still on the deck. He heard Adrian’s phone ring from the bedside table when he dialed. Shit. He grabbed their industrial black flashlight and headed out back.
When he reached the beach at the bottom of the stairs, he looked north and south and called out Adrian’s name. He kept the flashlight beam focused on the waves as he called a second time. He was starting to freak himself out a little, and he hated that anxiety, so he sat down on the bottom stair and lit a cigarette.
A few minutes, a few flashlight shines later, his beam caught a figure walking up on the beach toward the house, coming from the south. Deran knew it was Adrian before he was close enough to catch his face in the light. He stood up and flicked his cigarette, walking over to meet Adrian. After a good once-over, Deran was satisfied Adrian was ok, at least physically.
“Where were you?”
Adrian’s answering tone told Deran he was still feeling bitter: “Went for a swim.”
Deran could also tell Adrian had been drinking, but not heavily. He didn’t address it, just trailed behind Adrian up the stairs and inside. Deran finished the beer he’d started earlier and got ready for bed while Adrian showered. While he brushed his teeth, he glanced back at Adrian through the mirror, but still didn’t think there was he could say that would be helpful. He went to bed, but left the lamp on.
He woke up some time later when Adrian sat down on the bed, opening his eyes to the sight of Adrian’s back, and closing them again. He was vaguely aware that Adrian didn’t stay, and when he next awoke, Deran sighed and got up, already gearing up be frustrated as hell if Adrian had gone out again. So he was relieved to see Adrian, this time sitting on the couch, his back to Deran.
He could see Adrian was smoking and staring at the T.V., which was tuned to some late-night bullshit he knew Adrian could only be half-watching. As he walked closer, he realized Adrian was smoking a cigarette, not a joint. He’d never seen Adrian smoke a cigarette-well, not since they were teenagers, and certainly never alone.
“Hey,” said Deran, not wanting to sneak up on him. He didn’t really expect a response.
“Hey,” Adrian said as Deran laid a hand on his shoulder, still standing behind the couch. With his other hand, Deran took the lit cigarette from Adrian’s and puffed it as he massaged Adrian’s shoulders. Adrian’s head dropped as he relaxed, and then Deran felt Adrian’s body suddenly tense. He knew he was trying to stifle something-trying to not break down.
Deran walked around the end of the couch, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray on his way to sit. He sat down right next to Adrian, in the same motion putting his right arm around his shoulder.
“Come here,” he said, pulling Adrian into his chest. Adrian dropped his defenses after that, and Deran held him closely as he cried into his chest. After a while, Adrian had calmed down enough to talk. He cleared his throat.
“Deran, I don’t think I can do this. I mean…I really don’t know if I can handle it. Pearce thinks I won’t make it even a year-called me a pretty boy. I know he was just trying to scare me but Der, 15 years?-I’ll be 42! I won't even be the same person, and neither will you.”
Deran let Adrian’s words sit for a second, really feeling their weight and making sure Adrian knew he heard him. Eventually, the words came.
“You’re not there yet, Adrian. We’re not there yet. For right now, you’re right here and you just gotta focus on that. That’s the only way we’ll get through this. You’re the type of person that’s always making moves based on ‘what-if?’ worst-case contingencies, and it’s a smart way to plan for the future, but when it comes to this, you gotta concede that your future’s not for you to plan right now. In a dark and fucked up kinda way, there’s some comfort to be taken there. It means all you’re responsible for is the moment you’re in, and taking or enjoying it for what it is, ok? And I’m in it with you, when you let me. Hell, even when you don’t, I’m still in it with you. So long as we have this, let’s try and take this moment by moment, if for no other reason than the alternative fucking sucks, huh? I’ve got you right now.” Deran stroked Adrian’s hair and the side of his face. Adrian's head was in his lap now.
Deran sat with him like that for a few minutes more, until Adrian started to fall asleep. He eased him up and into bed, shut off the T.V, ran a glass of water and got some Tylenol from the bathroom. He set it on the table next to Adrian’s side of the bed, anticipating Adrian’s headache in the morning from drinking (and crying).
As he lay down next to him, Deran thought about what loomed over them, and he brought his finger up to his mouth. But before he started chewing, his thoughts turned to what he had told Adrian. He chuckled softly, both proud of himself and bewildered as to where all that mindful shit had come from.
Either way, he was glad Adrian opened up and finally calmed down. He looked over at his sleeping boyfriend in the dark, admittedly still worried about the future, but he figured there was little point in not taking his own advice.