The Dirt Whispered, Ch. 17
I visited Kevin regularly from then on out - every Saturday from two o’clock to four o’clock. It was weird to be with him and not be with him. I couldn’t hold his hand while we sat beside each other, and we didn’t cuddle up together on the bed talking (which admittedly we couldn’t have done anyway, since his bedroom door had to be open at all times). Mostly, I just updated him on what was happening with Nick and Frankie and our parents. Nick was touring and recording, and the rest of our family had accompanied him. I think Kevin really was upset about that - not that Nick was successful on his own (we always knew he would be), but that they had so easily left him behind. That’s part of what strengthened our bond, because I wasn’t going anywhere he wasn’t. We were too closely-knit for that; too much of me belonged to him.
He had bad days. I mean, that first time, he didn’t break down so much as pass out and I think it was really just coming, that he needed to break down in order to heal. He was trying so hard to be strong, and I didn’t understand that at all, because the whole purpose of him being in the home was so that he didn’t have to be strong. He could be taken care of; he could let other people be strong.
The breakdown came when I was there. In fact, I’m pretty sure I caused it. I thought he’d appreciate something that would make his bare green room a little homier. So, when I came to see him one week, I brought a box of his things with me. When I came into the room, he looked up from the book he was reading and regarded me with confusion. “What’s with the box?”
I grinned at him. “I brought you some things, just to make your room a little cozier.” I dropped it on his bed. He unfolded himself from his armchair and came over to see what I had. I held up a snow globe I bought him in Paris. It had been sitting on his nightstand in our room before our parents moved. “I just brought some stuff from our room… I didn’t know what you’d want. I figured I’d leave the box here so you can decorate.”
He took the snow globe, stared at it, his expression impossible to read, as it had been most of the time I spent with him lately. He dipped it upside down quickly, his face unchanging as the snow glittered down around the Eiffel Tower inside of it. I watched him for a moment, then dug into the box again, rifling through some of the things I’d brought. He looked over at me, peered into the box as well. He reached in suddenly, caught the Venetian mask I bought him when we went to Italy a couple years back. It was beautiful, intricate, made in the style of a jester, made of porcelain and painted with black-and-white diamonds framed with gold and jewels. It had been so expensive, but I could see the awe in his face when he looked at it, and I bought it for him as soon as he’d walked away. It had been worth it for the smile it got me later.
Now I stared at him, hated the expression on his face. I could see him closing in on himself. “Kev…” My voice was gentle, careful. “What’re you thinking about?”
His shoulders sagged, like his muscles were tired, and he gently laid the mask on the bed beside him, like he was afraid he was going to break it. “I feel like… that’s all I am.” His voice was quiet. I didn’t like it.
I shook my head, sitting down beside him and touching his knee. I tried not to let it bother me when he flinched, and I pulled my hand away. “Like what is all you are?”
“A mask,” he gestured toward it, looking up at me with sad eyes. “I’m just a mask. I’m not real.”
“Baby...” It was out before I could stop it, and I bit my tongue when he drew in a sharp breath in response to the word. I tried to cover it up, so he wouldn’t think about it too hard. “Kev… of course you’re real. You’re… you’re Kevin, you know? You’re wonderful and kind and sweet and you take care of everyone. If you’re not real, no one should be.”
But, he shook his head, and I could see his lip trembling, and all I could think was OhnoOhnoOhno… and then he was crying, his fingers tangled in his hair, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes, and I had no idea why. “I’m nothing, I’m nothing. I’m just this sick idiot who fell in love with his little brother.”
I was winded by that. I mean, I knew the whole reason he was here was because of that, but it still hurt to hear that he thought it was sick. But, I didn’t say anything about that. I knew it would just make it harder for him. So, I gathered him into my arms, stroking his hair, and savored the way he melted against me like he always has.
I’m not really sure how long we sat there, with him sobbing quietly against my neck. At one point, Susie poked her head in the door with this look on her face like she was asking if I had it under control. I nodded, and she disappeared again, after making some pointing gesture that I assumed meant she wouldn’t be far if she needed me.
Eventually, he quieted down, and just sat very still in my arms, sniffling occasionally and toying absently with a strand of hair beneath my ear. It freaked me out a little, you know? I mean, he was so small, like a child. I was scared to hold him too tightly because I didn’t want to break him, but if I let him go, I thought he’d fall apart anyway.
“Did you mean it?” The question was out of my mouth before I could possibly think to reconsider asking it. Considering how quietly I spoke, I couldn’t believe how my voice seemed to just hang there, an echoing presence, in the still room.
He knew exactly what I was talking about. I knew it by the way he went almost completely motionless in my arms. I opened my mouth to tell him he didn’t have to answer, but he beat me to it, murmuring, “Yes… but don’t make me talk about it, okay?”
I nodded immediately, holding him tighter against me. “Of course, babe…” I swallowed when he flinched. “Sorry. Kev. I wouldn’t ever make you do anything you don’t want to.” Even if the one you don’t want is me.
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I wake up a few hours later. This time, I like it a whole lot more, because I’m on my side, and Kevin is holding me tight around the waist, his forehead resting against my neck. I can feel his slow, even breaths puffing against my neck, and it makes me smile. I nuzzle my nose into his curls. Whatever headache I still had from my hangover has receded into a dull throb in the back of my skull. I press a kiss to his forehead; he sighs and shifts closer to me.
I grin down at him, happier than I’ve been in a long time. He’s here, in my arms, letting me wake up to his beautiful face, and I realize I’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve this. He’s the most perfect man in the world, and I feel like I got him by some unfortunate circumstance. I mean, not unfortunate for me, of course, but… for someone in the world who deserves him far more than I do.
He seems to know I’m awake. I’ve never been the first one to wake up, so when it does happen, Kevin always seems to just… feel it, or something. Like, now I’m awake, and he’s making this funny sound in the back of his throat, like he’s arguing with himself about whether it’s worth it to open his eyes. Apparently, I am, because he blinks up at me, and this lazy smile spreads across his face. He rubs his eyes, yawning. “Morning…”
“Morning, baby…” I murmur, and then his fingers curl in my hair, his other hand resting on the small of my back, and he pulls me to him for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, unhurried and intimate, and I suddenly don’t care that I had to wait for these kinds of moments, because god, are they worth it.
The sound of his lips leaving mine - that soft smack - makes us both smile, and his thumb runs over my cheek. I like the way he’s looking at me, like I’m so important, that his world doesn’t exist without me. My hand rests against his chest over his heart, and I lean my forehead to his. We don’t speak for a long time. There’s something about the silence that’s saying so much.
I could get used to this.