JFT #31/Mandatory Refusal {Jack/Arthur, Curt/Brian}
JFT #31
Mandatory Refusal
"Did I forget an anniversary or something, Jack?"
"No, sweetling," I sighed. Not many people can sigh and speak at the same time. What can I say? It's an art.
"Are Curt and Brian all right?"
"Yes, darling. They're splendid as always."
Arthur was beginning to look quite frustrated. I was going to have to take pity on him. After all, he is the light at the end of my tunnel.
Oh, dear, that sounded rather naughty, which I can assure you, was completely unintentional. I never stoop to the obvious crudities. I live for verbal obscurity. It's such fun watching mere mortals struggle to decipher any hidden meanings.
I may need to reconsider, however, because I fear Arthur is no longer as naive as he once was, and I couldn't bear to become totally demystified in his eyes. I feel rather like a magician who's lost control of his magic...and *that* is what Arthur is to me.
"Are you...tired of me?" Arthur sounded positively choked up. Oh, no. I couldn't let him think that. Ever. I stopped wallowing in whatever pool of self-pity I'd been in and ran to his side.
"I could never be tired of you," I murmured into his hair. Arthur shrugged out of my embrace and I realized he was truly distraught.
"Sure you could, Jack. I knew it. I knew it."
"What, love? What?"
"I always knew that someday you'd fall out of love with me, Jack. I just didn't think it'd be so...soon." He dissolved into tears, and it was all I could do to hold onto him. But I was still taller and stronger and not above using that to my advantage.
He couldn't. He couldn't think that I...
True, I've been impossibly moody the past few days, but...dammit, this couldn't be happening. Not to *me*.
But Arthur was out the door before I knew it, and I, I who considered myself utterly unshockable, was in shock.
*****
I heard someone banging on the door of our flat and rushed to open it, only to see Arthur standing there, looking like a lost schoolboy, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve. He had obviously been crying and he was still in a bit of a state.
"Hullo," he said, making no attempt to cross the threshold.
"What's got you in such a strop then?"
"I got no place to go," he said in such a small voice that it made my heart ache.
I've become fond of Arthur, especially after he went to University. I wouldn't have given much for his chances of realizing his dreams before he met Jack. Jack literally turned his life around. Not to mention they were both so bloody good for each other.
But this, whatever this was, was incredibly disturbing.
"What do you mean? Where's Jack?" I peered around Arthur as though Jack might be hiding nearby, but a six-foot redheaded drag queen is a trifle hard to miss.
"I left," he wept.
"Left what?" I'm not usually slow on the uptake, but I genuinely couldn't conceive of a scenario where the two of them would be separated. For any reason.
"Left Jack."
"Oh, God, get in here." I pulled him inside the flat and hustled him onto the couch. I grabbed a blanket off the bed I shared with Curt and draped it around his shoulders. He was so slight, he weighed less than me, and he made absolutely no protest as I rearranged the blanket till he was completely covered up. He simply sat there and shivered.
"What happened?" I asked, taking care to soften my voice. I didn't want him to think I was angry with him. Next to Curt, Jack has a special place in my heart, but I didn't want to choose sides if I could help it.
"He doesn't love me anymore," he sobbed.
"Why would you say that?"
Before he could answer, the door opened. "Curt!" I tried to call his attention to the trembling bundle on the couch, but Curt was a bit preoccupied.
"I can't believe it. I was in the middle of a take at the studio and who calls me, all frantic and bent out of shape? Jack!"
Curt put down his guitar with a grace customarily reserved for a lover, then kicked the low coffeetable in front of the couch. It's a very old coffeetable anyway. Sometimes Curt takes out his frustration on it, but to be honest, most of the time he misses.
"Curt?" I pointed to the Arthur-shaped blanket again, but he ignored me.
"I've never seen Jack upset before. I didn't even think he *got* upset. Well, except for the time you disappeared..." Curt's voice trailed off. He gets quiet when he's really worried about something. Like I said, Jack is our dearest friend, but to Curt, Jack is something else. Part mentor, part father figure, even though he's not that much older than him, and part saint. In Curt's eyes, Jack can do no wrong. So whatever happened between Jack and Arthur is automatically going to be Arthur's fault.
Never mind that's not fair. It's just the way Curt is. Jack's his blind spot.
When Curt finally came out of his funk, he stared at Arthur like he was trying to figure out what's wrong with this picture. "What are you doing?" I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or Arthur, but his next question made that abundantly clear.
"Why is the kid sitting in your fucking lap?"
"I was trying to comfort him--"
"And that just happened to involve getting up close and personal?"
"I can't believe you're jealous of Arthur--"
"I'm not!" Curt shouted. He had the grace to look suitably chastened, only to ruin it moments later by muttering under his breath, "He doesn't have to put his fucking hands all over you, though."
"Actually," I said with a too-bright smile that meant I was working my way up to annoyed, "he was waiting for *you*."
Then I handed Arthur over to him.
Arthur turned and buried his face against Curt's chest. For several seconds, Curt looked nonplussed. Then he started to stroke Arthur's hair. I wasn't even sure if Curt was aware of what he was doing, even less sure that I should call his attention to it, but I did.
"He looks up to you, Curt. You're his hero. Say something heroic."
Curt met my gaze evenly, something I've always admired about him. That clarity of spirit, that directness that rarely leads you on to someplace you don't want to be, was something I often wished I had.
"Jack loves you."
See, just like always, Curt cut to the chase.
*****