It was painful being this close to him. It actually hurt. I didn't think it would feel like this. I didn't think at all.

I had slept for a couple of hours, though it certainly wasn't the best sleep I'd ever had, but that wasn't what woke me up. It was Bruno. He was thrashing back and forth in his sleep, moaning and groaning and almost throwing himself out of bed. I didn't mean to touch him, but I was afraid he would hurt himself. So I brushed my fingers across the side of his face to gently wake him. But he didn't wake up right away. He sighed at the touch of my hand, and just as I was congratulating myself for finally getting somewhere, he murmured, "Paul."

That freaked me out. I knew that Bruno wasn't a virgin. Of course, he'd been with other men. He was a pretty boy with a past that he kept buried so deep, he might never let anyone in. Only he had. He'd melted in my arms and it'd felt right between us. He felt it, too. I knew he did. Because it scared the hell out of him.

But I'd never let myself think about the specifics of the life he'd led before me. Well, what a shock. Paul was a damned specific memory if his reaction was anything to go by. Significant, too. And don't think that didn't bother me.

I mean, it was irrational, wasn't it? Both of us had been with other people. Before we ever met. How could I mind him being with this Paul? But that wasn't it, was it?

It wasn't that he'd slept with Paul. It was that he'd loved him. I was so fucking jealous, I couldn't see straight.

I should've been happy for him. That he'd loved someone and that someone loved him back. But I wasn't. I was fucking pissed.

I wanted him to recognize me. I wanted him to know it was me touching him. I wasn't this Paul.

All of a sudden, Bruno's eyes blinked open. He was looking right at me, but I don't think he saw me. Maybe he thinks I'm Paul, I thought, and the very idea irritated me.

"You were dreaming," I said, indulging my unfortunate tendency to state the obvious.

The look in his eyes worried me. If he did think I was Paul, how come he didn't seem glad to see me? His eyes slid away furtively, and for the first time, I wondered who Paul was...and what the bloody hell he'd done to him. He was so terribly brave sometimes, all that pain lurking beneath his pale skin like a cancer that couldn't be seen but made you just as dead anyway.

"Bruno? Are you okay?" No, he wasn't okay. He wasn't even close to okay. But I had to say something. His silence was worse than screaming. Because it felt like a scream inside me.

"Yeah," he finally answered, but the lag was so great that it wasn't the least bit reassuring.

"Bad dream?"

He nodded mutely.

"What about?"

"Don't remember," he replied, but that look was back in his eyes and I knew he was lying.

"You can tell me-"

"Nothing to tell." He set his lips in a tense line and I could see he was locked up tight again. Shutting me out.

"You might feel better if-"

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said coldly.

I winced involuntarily. He must not have liked what he saw in my face because suddenly he was there, nestled in my arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered. So I did matter. I wasn't wrong about that. That gave me a little hope.

"Me, too. I wish you could trust me with all your secrets," I whispered back.

"I wish I didn't have any," he said sadly.

"It won't change how I feel about you," I offered.

"Don't say that. You think you love me, but I'm not who you think I am."

"None of us are."

"Stop trying to include yourself in this. You don't want to belong to the club I'm in. Trust me."

"I do."

"What?" He looked up at me, and I had such a strong desire to kiss him, I almost did. But I didn't want to let him distract me from this.

"I said I do. Trust you."

"You shouldn't."

"How'd I know you were gonna say that? The truth is...I'm not who you think I am either."

"Really," he said archly, clearly not believing me.

"Really," I echoed. "Of course, I don't have any illusions about who I am. I lost those a long time ago."

"What did you do then that's so terrible? Shoplifted? Stole a car?" he commented sarcastically.

"No," I responded. He began to smile. He thought he knew me, but I was about to disillusion him. "I kidnapped someone."

That surprised him. Hell, it surprised me. It was a lifetime ago. Back when all I wanted was my job back. "I was a janitor for a big corporation. In America. I didn't want much. Just to have a nice life. A girl. A job. A place to live. And maybe some money once in a while."

"What happened?" he asked softly, drawn in against his will.

"I lost everything. My girl left me. I was evicted. Then they fired me." I closed my eyes. I hadn't thought about what happened in months. Not since I came back to the UK. I couldn't go back to Scotland. I couldn't face my family. I was, and always would be, a colossal screw-up to them. Not to mention myself. So I went to London and I found something very like the life I'd always wanted.

Only it, and he, didn't seem to want me.

I opened my eyes again. Bruno was so close, I could smell the scent of his shampoo and it made me yearn for forbidden contact. It didn't matter that it was my own fault, I couldn't allow myself to touch him that way. I wanted him so bad, I ached with the wanting, but I wanted his love more.

"I didn't plan to be a kidnapper. I just wanted my fucking job back. But he laughed at me."

"Who?"

"My boss. He had more money than God and a daughter who was as beautiful as she was cunning."

"Were you in love with her?"

I sighed. I walked right into that one, and I should have seen it coming. I really should have. I didn't want to lie, but...I wasn't sure Bruno wanted the truth either.

"Aye, I was." I tried to sound as if it didn't matter what Bruno thought about that, but of course, it did.

"Did she appreciate you?"

"I don't know what you mean-"

Bruno exhaled sharply and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling as though counting the tiles there had suddenly become a fascinating way to pass the time.

"Bruno, it's too bloody dark to be looking at anything up there. Tell me what you're thinking, dammit."

He shook his head. That pissed me off all over again. I loomed over him, mainly because it wasn't light enough yet to see that well, but partly because I wanted to feel him under me. It was almost like having him. In fact, it was too damn close, if you asked me.

"Why did you ask me that?"

"No reason."

"Fuck that. You're as jealous as I was a few minutes ago."

Something shifted in Bruno's eyes and he asked, "You were jealous?"

I gave up trying to be Batman. Evidently my shadow wasn't fucking big enough to intimidate anyone. "Aye," I groaned, falling back onto the mattress. Now the covers were hanging off the bed in that alarming way they have right before they end up in a heap on the floor.

"Why would you be jealous?"

"Were you in love with Paul?" I demanded wearily, covering my face with my arm.

He didn't say anything, but then, he didn't have to. His gasp said it all. "How do you know about Paul?"

"A little birdy told me, what do you think? You called out his name in your sleep."

"So? I wasn't fucking you at the time," Bruno retorted crudely.

"Jesus," I swore, glad that he couldn't see my expression. "Just answer the question, okay?"

"No."

"No, you weren't in love with Paul...or no, you don't want to answer the fucking question?"

"Yeah, I loved him," Bruno spat angrily. A few moments later, however, he repeated himself, but far more quietly.

"So why aren't you with him?"

"Cause I can't be, let's just leave it at that, all right?"

"I wanna know, dammit!"

"Why? So you know if you've got competition? Well, you don't! Cause there is nobody else! And you know why? Cause he's fucking dead! Now do you get it?"

His eyes were filled with tears, and then, quite suddenly, so were mine. "I'm...sorry, Bruno."

"So am I. It was my fault."

"Oh, come on, everything can't be your fault."

"This was," he said hoarsely, and all at once, we were right back where we started. I wanted to hold him and tell him that nothing mattered except the two of us. But that wasn't true then...and it wasn't true now.

"I'm sure you didn't have anything to do with his-"

"Murder? The word you're avoiding is murder, isn't it?"

I blinked. "He was murdered?"

"Yeah. Someone shot him."

"Why?"

"What the hell difference does it make?"

I didn't say anything. Bruno rose to the challenge admirably and filled the silence with more useless words. "He was a drug dealer, okay?"

Not okay. Nope. I didn't know in what universe that would be okay, but I had visions of my poor defenseless lover plopped right in the middle of a gang of cutthroats. Not a good thought.

Wait a minute, lover? We weren't lovers yet. Well, unless you counted a rather splendid handjob. Christ, I was already thinking of him as my lover. What was the point of keeping him at arms' length anymore?

"So I take it some bad people came after him and-"

"We were the fucking bad people, Robert! We were fucking criminals! Not like you. We didn't accidentally kidnap someone. We robbed banks! We robbed jewelry stores! Not like fucking Robin Hood. We didn't take from the rich to give to the poor! We were the fucking poor!"

"Just because it wasn't some romantic romping adventure doesn't mean you were bad, Bruno."

"Oh, no, you're right about that! I wasn't bad at all. I was very, very good at what I did, Robert." He leaned close, close enough that our breath mingled, and I froze. "Do you want to hear the details, Robert? How we'd come home after a job and fuck each other senseless?" He traced a finger along my jawline, and I swallowed hard.

I wanted to wail at the injustice of it all. He should have belonged to me first. Not him. Whatever the fuck his name was. And now, even though he was dead and gone, his memory continued to linger over us like a black cloud.

"Fuck him," I muttered under my breath, but he heard me and he answered in kind. "I did, Robert. Often and hard."

"You bastard." I turned away from him then. Curling up against the other side of the bed, I tried valiantly to make myself unobtrusive.

"Robert! You stupid git! You give as good as you get. Why are you letting me-"

"You know why, Bruno." I closed my eyes on a wave of intense pain. "I love you."

"Look, Robert..."

"Just go back to sleep. We've got school, then rehearsal tonight."

I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. "I don't want to hurt you."

"But you do."

"How about a truce? If we show up at Jack's like this, he'll lock us in a closet for sure till we work out our differences."

His hand crept its way over my shoulder and kneaded the aching flesh there. "Please?"

I let out the breath I'd been holding. "What do you want from me, Bruno?"

"I won't mention Paul...if you promise not to mention what's her name."

"Celine. Her name was Celine."

"Was she very beautiful?"

"Aye. But not half as much as you," I whispered, feeling my eyes sting.

Bruno sounded like he was having trouble breathing. "Um...be careful now, I might start taking what you say to heart," he said, so softly I had to strain to hear him.

"I wish you would," I whispered. "I wish you'd take me that serious."

"Well..." he said softly, placing a kiss on my bare shoulder. "If I did, I'd have to tell you what's going through my head when I look at you..." Kiss. His lips were so fucking soft, I swear, he was just a seductive little tease who wasn't worth the energy to... Another kiss. Achingly soft. Jesus, I take it back. He was worth whatever it took to keep him in my life.

"Bruno...if I turn around...I'm gonna kiss you...and then I'd have to make you mine."

Kiss. "I already am."

I jerked away from him. Was I hearing things or did he just admit that he cared? "Don't fuck with me, Bruno."

"I'm trying as hard as I can, Robert. To do just that."

Kiss. "Only you're not cooperating."

I started to shiver, and he pulled on me gently till I faced him again. I could feel my eyes grow wide as they strained to pierce the darkness. I wanted to see him.

"Let me. You know you want to."

I couldn't speak.

"I'll forget all about Celine..."he sing-songed.

"Aye," I agreed, my lips as parched as if I'd been out in the desert for days. "But can you forget about Paul?"

"Do you want the truth?"

"Aye."

"No. He's a part of me, and I don't know if that'll ever go away," he whispered, his voice suddenly tragic again.

"Good answer." He wasn't lying to me anymore. That was a start.

So I kissed him.

End