April 30, 2016

"Atticus? Hey, dude, pay attention," Chris said, snapping his fingers in Atticus's face. He was staring down at the contracts between them on the desk, but his expression was blank. Atticus blinked, barely focusing again. "What is with you today?"

"I don't know," Atticus muttered. He took off his glasses and rubbed his hand across his face.

"You've been zoning out a lot. What're you thinking about?" Chris asked, setting the papers they were working on aside. "Besides Zoey making us finish her work on a Saturday."

Atticus sighed. "I met this guy last night and. . . I don't know. He wanted to talk to me."

"Talk? To you?" Chris raised his eyebrows. "Considering that you're, no offence, the least approachable person in the world, that strikes me as odd."

"I know," Atticus said, frowning slightly as he set the glasses back on his face. "The weird part was, though, that he liked me."

"Come on, Ace, that's—" But Atticus just gave Chris a bored look, and he sighed. "Maybe. Do you like him, though?"

Atticus shrugged, twirling his pen between his fingers. "Doesn't really matter, does it? You can only count on one hand how many people don't hate me."

"What's his name?"

"I don't remember," Atticus said. "Can we just finish this?"

But Atticus did remember Jake's name. He remembered everything about the twenty year-old who literally dropped into his life the night before. He remembered the chestnut hair and honey eyes. The way he smiled with his top teeth jutting out over his plump pink lips. Maybe he only remembered because barely a day had passed, but Atticus didn't like to remember things. Usually he didn't. He repressed until a migraine attacked his head or insults crossed the threshold. Jake was the exception, but Atticus wasn't sure how many exceptions he could handle.

*****

It was a Saturday evening, and Atticus was sitting alone against the fence in his yard, pulling a cigarette from his lips as he read an old family law book that Chris asked him to look over. He was barely paying attention to it. He couldn't even remember what he was looking for. He was more interested in the small patch of red grass he must've gotten paint on the night before. He poked a few blades with the toe of his shoe, wondering how he got the grass completely colored, when he had a slight heart attack from the sudden voice behind him.

"Hey, Atty."

He caught his breath and turned his head to see Jake standing on the other side of the fence, looking slightly guilty.

"Sorry," Jake said, climbing over the fence to sit on the ground next to Atticus. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," Atticus said, squashing the cigarette he dropped on the ground with the heel of his shoe.

"Whatcha' reading?" Jake asked, nodding towards the opened book on the lawyer's lap.

Atticus looked down. He had forgotten the book was even there. "It's a law book. A real thriller."

Jake's brown eyes widened. "Sorry, I'm bothering you then, aren't I? I didn't mean to. I can go, if you'd like me to."

"No, you're not bothering me," the lawyer said before the younger man could get up. "I wasn't reading it, anyway."

And, as if to prove it, he shut the book and set it next to him on the ground. Jake smiled and shifted to lean back on the fence, close enough that their shoulders were almost touching. If Atticus moved so much as a centimeter to the right, they would be pressed together.

"You know, it's a Saturday night," Jake said, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Why are you sitting out here pretending to read a law book?"

"It's not like I have anything better to do," Atticus sighed. "I could ask why you're out here with me."

"Are you going to?"

"If you want to answer."

"Because I like you," Jake said as if it was obvious. "I think you're interesting."

Atticus rolled his eyes. "I'm really not."

Jake rolled his eyes, as if to mock the older one. "You can think whatever you want about yourself. Just know that I think you're wrong."

"What're you doing?" Atticus asked, voice flat and annoyed.

Jake shrugged, letting their shoulders bump together. Atticus's breath hitched, but Jake didn't seem to notice.

"You seem sad," Jake whispered, like he didn't really want Atticus to hear him.

Atticus sighed again. "Maybe. So you just like to pity me?"

"What?" Jake asked, eyed widening. "No. That's not it at all."

Atticus didn't understand why Jake got so defensive, especially to him. He thought Jake would've been fed up with him by then, so he kept pushing him.

"Then you don't have anything better to do on a Saturday night?"

"Well, I'm going out to dinner with my boyfriend later."

Atticus felt something stir in his stomach. "Oh, so I'm just here to help you pass the time?"

"No! No, I just. . ." Jake looked like he was going to cry, and something clicked in Atticus's head. And not on the good side.

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Y-Yes."

"Then why are you here?"

"Nicholas isn't much of a talker. And I don't have many friends that don't spend their evenings at ragers. Besides, I like you."

"Why?"

"Well, I thought you were nice, but now I realize that you're kind of a bitch. I know that sounds bad, but I like it. I've never met someone like you before."

Atticus was unsure. He didn't really know how to respond, so he didn't.

Jake sighed. "Can I ask you something?"

"You already did."

That made Jake smile, but it fell almost immediately. "Why don't you like me? I mean, I know that I'm annoying and intrusive. Is that it?"

"Dammit," Atticus mumbled under his breath, taking his hat off and spinning it in his hands to avoid looking at the other man. He ran his finger against the frayed ribbon. "I'm just not used to this."

"Used to what?"

He sighed, setting the hat back on his head. Jake was positive that Atticus sighed more today than Jake ever had in his life.

"Conversation," Atticus muttered.

Sure, he talked to Chris all the time, but they had known each other for twenty-one years. Hell, he'd known Chris longer than Jake had been alive. He was always, in everyone else's opinion, a stand-off, so no one really bothered him unless it was for business. Even then, some were weary.

"Conversation is the only thing I'm good for," Jake said. "I bet I can make you smile somehow." Jake had a look of determination set on his features, but Atticus wasn't so sure.

"Do you really?"

"Yes, I do."

"Go ahead." Atticus decided to humor him. "Try me."

"It was like four in the morning, and I was trying to go downstairs. It was dark, obviously, so I didn't see that my sister's cat was asleep on the step. I tripped over the damn cat, and there wasn't a railing on the side of the staircase to catch myself on, so after I tumbled down a couple steps, I fell off the side."

Atticus burst out laughing. He had to cover his mouth and look away from Jake.

"So you like the pain of other people," Jake noted. "I'll remember that."

Atticus eventually stopped laughing, but he couldn't look back at Jake. He was smiling, and for some reason, he didn't want Jake to see him and know. But the younger man did know, and he turned Atticus back to look at him.

"I told you that I could make you smile. Even if it had to be at the expense of my safety."

Atticus rolled his eyes. "When did you fall down the steps?"

"Honestly, it was this morning." Jake pulled up the side of his black Metallica shirt to show off a big purple bruise on his waist. "Don't worry," he added, "the cat's okay."

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Atticus asked, hesitantly reaching out to run his finger down Jake's side. He winced, and Atticus went to pull his hand away. "S-Sorry."

"No, it's okay." Jake took Atticus's hand and set it gently on his side. "Your hand's warm."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?"

Atticus didn't know why he cared so much. He shouldn't have had his hand pressed against the younger man's waist, but he couldn't pull away because Jake's hand was resting on top of his. He probably wouldn't have even if he could.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jake said. "I've fallen down quite a few flights of steps in my lifetime. I once fell off the bus steps and broke my jaw on the curb."

Atticus scoffed. "I'm sorry. It isn't funny."

"No, it's fine. But now my jaw clicks sometimes. I mean, I was seven, so when my teeth got knocked out it wasn't a big deal, but it was kind of traumatic."

"You're clumsy, aren't you?"

Jake smiled at him. "Maybe a little. What, you aren't?"

"No, I am. I've just never had such an injury before."

"Did you want me to push you down the steps or something?"

Atticus laughed. "I'd like to see you try."

"You have a really cute laugh."

Atticus was surprised and pulled his hand away faster than he intended. His green eyes widened, and he wasn't sure what to say.

"What's wrong? Hasn't anyone told you that before?" Jake asked. He wanted Atticus's hand back, but he knew better than to reach out for him.

"You shouldn't be saying things like that if you have a boyfriend," Atticus whispered.

Jake shrugged. "I only complimented you."

"No one does that."

"Then just let me do it. Friends can compliment each other, right? There's no harm in it."

"I guess not," Atticus said, the corner of his lips pulling down.

Jake smiled, lips parting to show off his teeth. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you that—" Jake was cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket. He read the text message and sighed. "Nick's here. I gotta go."

Atticus was disappointed, but didn't let it show. "Have fun."

"I will. Bye, Atty."

"Bye, Jake."

Jake stood up, and Atticus grabbed his book again, flipping through to find where he left off. But then he heard a crash behind him and Jake yell, "Dammit!" Atticus dropped his book back to the ground and jumped up to lean over the fence, feeling it dig into his waist.

"Hell, Jake, are you alright?"

"I'm okay," Jake said, laughing and looking up to meet Atticus's worried emerald eyes. "Help me up?"

Atticus reached his hand out, but as Jake reached up to grab it, someone picked him up by his waist. Jake's eyes squeezed shut as his boyfriend's hand pinched the bruise on his side.

"Ow, Nick, watch it," Jake whined, trying to shy away.

"Oh, quit whining, you'll be fine. It was your own dumb fault anyway," Nick said, pushing his brown hair out of his face. His blue eyes traced Atticus over. "And who are you?"

The lawyer's lips twisted into a frown, and Jake shot him a warning look.

"He's my friend, Nick," Jake said. "Get over yourself."

"I'm not worried," Nick replied, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Let's go, babe."

Atticus's lips twitched as he watched Jake walk away with Nick. He was pissed, but he didn't understand why. He picked up Chris's book from the ground and stormed back inside to keep from hurling it at the back of Nick's head. He threw the book on the table and took a knife from the holder on the kitchen counter. He passed the knife to his left hand as he walked up the steps.