Repeat.

Feb 11, 2011 19:04

The Chosen. Reuven/Danny. 1386 words. Non-explicit.
Don't own, etc.

Danny calls. When Reuven picks up, he almost doesn't recognize the voice. It's been five months, give or take a couple of days. Danny says, "Hello?" When Reuven doesn't speak, he says, "Reuven?"

"I'm here," Reuven replies. He clears his throat.

"Hello," Danny says again. His voice sounds warm, and it's easy for Reuven to react to that; he crowds closer to the wall, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. "Are you well?"

"I'm - yeah, I'm fine." Taking a breath, Reuven shifts again, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "And you, Danny?"

"I have been better," Danny says. There's barely a pause before he goes on. "I'd like to see you."

Reuven wants to ask why now, of all times, but the only thing that comes out is, "When?" He can't bring himself to take it back or make it mean any different. He thinks he should be angry, but his anger never stood a chance against the soft rhythm of Danny's voice. He never stood a chance at all.

"Can I come over this weekend?"

Reuven thinks of his house, and his father, and says, "Why don't I meet you there?"

"You can," Danny tells him. "How is Saturday?"

"Saturday's fine," Reuven says, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. He feels suddenly aware of the fact he's tired. "When?"

"We can have dinner," Danny says.

"Dinner, then," Reuven says, and he lets his hand fall when he hears his father's footsteps coming down the hallway. He shifts away from the wall, putting his back to it. He lets out a breath. "I can be there around seven."

"Okay." Danny's voice is still warm.

"Okay," Reuven replies. When his dad comes into view, Reuven says, "I'll see you then." His dad gives him a quick but curious smile. Reuven reaches up to grab the phone. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Reuven," Danny says, and Reuven hangs up.

His dad's smile comes back, briefly. Reuven says, "It was Danny," because it would mean something if his father had to ask. "I'm going to go to see him on Saturday."

"Oh?" his dad says. "I'm glad. How is he?"

Reuven shrugs, gently. "We didn't talk for that long." He thinks he could say Danny is well, but it doesn't seem like the truth. He doesn't know that Danny has ever been.

"Let him know I asked," his dad says, then.

Reuven nods and says, "Yeah, I will."

*

Danny looks the same. Reuven doesn't know why he was expecting him not to, but the way Danny's eyes travel over his face make him think he wasn't alone.

They're still on the subway platform. Danny takes a step closer to him and says, quietly, "It's good to see you."

Reuven looks up at him for a second. "It's good to see you too," he says, taking a step to the side. Danny turns and touches his elbow. When Reuven looks at him, Danny's looking down at his shoes. "What are we having?"

"What would you like?" Danny asks, lifting his head.

"I asked you."

Danny's face carefully breaks into a smile, then. "You did," he says. "But I don't know."

"Do you have any food in that apartment of yours?" Reuven asks.

Danny nods, the corners of his mouth still softened by a smile. "Some."

They climb the stairs quietly. Danny touches his shoulder when he begins to turn the wrong way, and Reuven thinks it feels too easy. It makes him nervous; it has never been easy.

*

Danny makes them sandwiches. It's all he has in his cupboards that's worth eating. Reuven watches him from the couch. The longer he looks at Danny, the sharper Danny's angles get. He cuts the sandwiches in half. His forearms look thin.

Danny doesn't listen to the radio much, so his apartment is quiet. He sits down and hands Reuven his sandwich. Reuven says, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Danny says, "but it's just a sandwich. Do you mind turkey?"

"No," Reuven says. Across the table, Danny picks his sandwich up. His wrists are sharp against the folds of sleeves, but Reuven thinks that could be why. He's never seen Danny so loose before. The top button of his shirt is undone. He's never seen so much of Danny.

"How is school?" Danny asks.

Reuven looks away quickly, feeling like he's been caught. "It's good," he says, touching the bridge of his glasses for a moment. "My father asked how you were."

"Did he?" Danny asks. He seems pleased.

"Yeah."

Silence falls heavily over the room. Reuven eats, because he lacks options; it's either that or look at Danny. But it has been five months, and Danny's so familiar Reuven doesn't know how to handle the way he's changed.

*

At a quarter past nine, Reuven stands to stretch. They're playing a game of cards. Danny looks up from the deck and asks, "Are you leaving now?"

"I should probably go," Reuven says. "It's late."

"It is," Danny agrees. He shuffles all of the cards together in his hands and sets them down on the edge of the table. He stands up, too. "I'll walk you back to the subway."

"Okay," Reuven says. Danny's polite, and Reuven doesn't see the point in arguing with him.

"I'm glad you came," Danny tells him.

Reuven nods at him, first. Danny's polite, and sometimes Reuven doesn't argue with him because he can't win. Other times, though, he doesn't - he doesn't like missing Danny. He doesn't understand why he has to. He says, "Danny. If you wanted me here why did it take you so long?"

Danny looks surprised, then uncomfortable. He frowns and touches the side of his face, but he catches Reuven's eye. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he says.

"You didn't," Reuven says, grabbing his jacket from the back of Danny's old couch. "I just don't get it."

"What do you mean?"

"Everything," Reuven says. "You." He watches Danny fold down the sleeves of his shirt, preparing to put his own jacket on. "Look, you're - you do that now." He walks over and pulls at Danny's sleeve, stops him from buttoning it. "You walk around barefoot, Danny. You - I don't know, you barely look at me. It doesn't make any sense."

"I'm sorry," Danny says, carefully.

"For what?" Reuven crowds in a little closer. "What are you sorry for? Do you even know what you're apologizing for? Do you ever?"

"I haven't been there for you," Danny answers, still making eye contact.

"You haven't," Reuven says. "So then where did you go?"

"Reuven," Danny says.

"Come on, tell me," Reuven says. "I think you owe me at least that much."

Danny takes a breath, like the conversation is exhausting him, and Reuven realizes perhaps he was the one who was gone, this time. Oh. He touches Danny's side, but Danny twists away. "It's getting late. We should go."

"Look, I missed being here," Reuven tells him. Danny doesn't say anything. "Do you want me to come over next weekend?" He's still quiet. "Or do you want to call me in April? Would it be better then?"

"No," Danny says. "Reuven - I just - can we let it go now? I messed up and I'm very sorry, but you don't understand--"

"But I've been trying."

"I need you to understand," Danny says, very seriously, "There is nothing you need to know. I have nothing to say to you, sometimes, Reuven, you need to understand - there is nothing you can do, but you can't - I can't just have you here--"

"Why?" Reuven pushes.

Danny closes his eyes, for a second. He looks trapped; Reuven notices how Danny's body is pressed against the edge of his kitchen counter, forced there because Reuven won't let him go.

"Danny," he says, softly.

"I can't have you here," Danny tells him, dropping his head a fraction.

"Then where do you want me to go?"

Danny doesn't reply. His shirt is still unbuttoned, a triangle of skin, smooth over the ridges of his collarbone. Reuven can't stop looking. He runs his hands through his hair and steps back. Maybe there are things better left unknown.

reuven/danny, the chosen

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