Fever Pitch (26 page)

Giles tried not to be embarrassed at being busted. “I was worried about you. I couldn't leave you there. It kind of flipped me out that you actually needed me, in the end.”

“I can't help wondering if they would have let me keep going had you not been there.” He bit his lip. “I worry they wouldn't have. My mom—I really thought she was on my side.”

“You shouldn't have walked outside because they shouldn't have let you. And all your stuff didn't make it over, I noticed. Did my dad tell you what happened when he went to see your mom? He wouldn't tell me.”

Aaron's hands slipped to Giles's collarbone, and he couldn't lift his gaze. “He said…he doesn't think I'll get my laptop back. Or anything in my backpack. I can get most of my music and some Salvo work from the cloud, but—I'm so sorry, the notebook you gave me for Christmas is gone. I can recreate all the songs, they're in my head, but…I'd give up all the clothes and shoes to get it back.”

“I'll get you a new one. I'll get you ten.” Giles slid his body closer, running a hand through Aaron's thick hair. “Your mother should have been over
here
, apologizing and begging you to come home, promising to argue with your dad.”

“She's never really been aggressive. She still cries when she talks about Dad leaving her.”

“She shouldn't cry to you at all. Parents are supposed to
parent
. Not kick you out because you don't act like they want you to. I mean—shit. I thought my mom was kind of a helicopter, but I'd rather have that. I'm sorry you don't.”

“I'd rather have you. I'm never going to not love you for being there when I came around the corner.” He smiled as he ran his hand through Giles's hair before tugging gently on his lobes. “And don't you dare mock your ears. They're my favorite part of you.”

Okay, that one hit Giles right in the gut. To cover his sudden attack of mushiness, he ground his hips meaningfully against Aaron's groin. “Really? Favorite part?”

Aaron's eyes glazed over. “Second favorite,” he murmured, thrusting back.

They made languid love, face-to-face, and maybe it was Giles's imagination, but he noticed before his brain switched over to lust or bust that his boyfriend's hands did always seem to land on his ears.

The
week between J-term and the start of the spring semester went by Aaron like a watery dream.

For being alone, he had people around him all the time. Mina came by every day, played Xbox with them, helped Aaron and Giles recreate some of the notes he'd lost for Salvo. They started a choir and orchestra arrangement of “Titanium” Aaron still wasn't sure would work but wanted to try, for Baz.

Walter and Kelly came up twice. Once they took Aaron and Giles out to dinner, but Saturday night they stayed over again, and they had a movie marathon. Mina came over too, and they picked movies, watching them until they passed out.
Star Trek
and
Thor
and
Ocean's Eleven
and
Anchorman
. And
Frozen
.

The Disney movie rang in Aaron's head when he went to bed. He hadn't expected to like it at all, but the story, the music, the beautiful blue of it all haunted him. When he curled up against Giles and tried to sleep, all he saw was swirling white, the snow queen walking through it all. Alone, all alone, her song sounding like a bell inside him.

His dreams were strange, the movies fractured and shadowed in his subconscious. He woke damp with sweat, the room dark. Pale light from the window cast the room in deep blue shadow, and his half-sleeping mind saw the snow from the dream and the world outside swirling across the floor, made him feel the cold, wet snow on his stocking feet.

Let it go.

Pulling the cover over his head, drawing his feet up tight, he burrowed into Giles and called up the song from the movie, willing it to lull him out of his panic. The melody line danced across his brain, and he stripped out the voice, adding his own color to it. He closed his eyes, his ears, pressed his fingers over his nose to shut out all but the essential air. He used Giles's body like a wall, curling into the smallest, quietest space he could occupy in the world, and he chased the music.

He could
see it
. Soft, pastel colors along a bar staff in the darkness. He felt the music too, drifting out of the shadow. It felt like magic, and he imagined himself in the center of the darkness, spinning with his eyes shut as sparkling sound emerged as visible light from his fingertips.

Let it go, let it go, let it go.

The music carried him back into his dreams, wrapping around him until Giles kissed him awake. They made love, and Aaron's still-sleepy brain melded the orgasm with the musical line.

When they got out of bed, it was time to leave the Mulder house to go back to school, which was more difficult than Aaron had expected. Somehow the reality of his abandonment hadn't sunk in until that moment, but now there he was, heading to school with Giles as he'd always planned to…but from Giles's driveway. With supplies and trinkets from Giles's mother, not his own.

How could she not call him? Had she tried and no one told him?

It had to be a mistake. As Tim loaded up Giles's car and everyone milled around the driveway, Aaron ducked into the house, pulling his new phone out of his pocket. Dialing his mom's landline, Aaron curled against the pantry door and waited as it rang. And rang. And rang.

He called her cell.

When voicemail picked up, all he could do was breathe. Through his nose, slowly, but he was hyperaware of each breath.
In. Out.
Like soft percussion. One of those shakers with the balls wrapped around it, or a rain stick. He could only listen to the music of the air passing through his nose, because otherwise he would have to listen to his mother, who always answered her phone…not answering her phone.

Now the music was in his ears too, a thick drumbeat as he googled his aunt's phone number. This was stupid. This was
stupid
, and he was tired of it, and somebody had to fix it—

“Hello?”

Aaron's breath came out in a hot rush.
Contact.
“Aunt Carol. This is Aaron. I need to find my mom.”

The pause was heavy, and it hurt. “I don't think she can come to the phone right now. I'm sorry. I'll tell her you called.”

What?
Aaron struggled for a reply. “Did you know she kicked me out?”

Another pause, this one even more awkward. “Yes. I'm sorry. Do you need anything?”

What, like a cup of sugar? “I need to talk to my mom.”
I need to come home.

“I'm sorry, Aaron.”

Sorry?
Sorry?
Rage stepped on disbelief and stomped forward, Jim Seavers's genes lighting up in a rare flash. “You mean she's seriously not going to talk to me? She's there, I know she is. And she
won't talk to me
?”

“She's upset.”

Upset?

She
was upset?

“I'm sorry, Aaron.” Carol sounded tired. “Someday you'll understand.”

Aaron wanted to shout, but he couldn't make the words come. He wanted to tell her he would
never
understand this. It would
never
be okay to not talk to your kid because he was upset that you
threw him out of the house
. He wanted to shout at her, but he couldn't make the words come. He could only breathe soft, staccato music as his heart beat at the base of his throat, blocking all sound.

Please. Please.

Please.

“Do you need money? I could give you some money.”

His breath hitched, and two tears escaped, one from each eye.

I need my mom.

Swallowing hard, he lowered the phone. With a shaking hand, he didn't hang up, he just held the button on the top until it switched off.

Walter knew.

Aaron could tell when he went outside Walter knew what he'd done, or suspected. Aaron didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to talk to anyone. He felt raw and cut open, and he wanted to curl into a dark corner and wait for everything to go away.

Instead he had to go back to school. They all knew, because they'd been texting him with support. Telling him they'd help him any way they could. So many fucking people.

People and his sullen, snarky roommate, who would probably laugh and tell him he deserved it.

Oh God, he couldn't do this.

Before he could stagger backward, Walter was in front of him, not embracing him, but standing close. He spoke quietly at Aaron's ear, and Aaron looked out over the frozen subdivision as he listened.

“I don't care if your mom will talk to you or not or if she filled you with crazy if you got to talk to her. You get to be who you want to be, and you won't ever be alone.” He squeezed Aaron's arm and leaned closer. “I know it feels like you are. I know it hurts right now. But you're not.”

Aaron shut his eyes. “I don't want to talk about this.”

“I know. But it's going to get harder before it gets better. I want you to remember you have us. No matter how angry you get, how hysterical, how confused. We're here. I'm right here.”

Cold wind bit against Aaron's face, whistled in his bare ears. He closed his eyes and shut out everything but that faint sound.
Whoosh.

There it was. Like ice crystals in his ears. Against the black backdrop of his mental landscape, he watched the color of the wind and its whistle dance across his mind. The flash of Kelly's Disney movie played, the snow queen climbing alone up the mountain. Alone in the cold, but free.

I don't want to be this free.

Walter didn't let go of Aaron's hand. “Lean on Giles. He wants to be there for you. Let him in.”

Giles. Aaron opened his eyes and saw him standing there, by the car, waiting. He didn't have on his hat, and his cheeks were pink, his ear tips red as they stuck out of his hair. He smiled at Aaron, sadly.

Hopeful.

Aaron shut his eyes. “I will.”

After a round of hugs and well wishes, after Giles and Aaron promised they would text when they arrived, they drove away.

Silence filled the car. Giles took Aaron's hand, squeezing it several times but not saying anything. As they sat at a stoplight, he sighed.

“I don't know what to say.” He glanced sideways at Aaron, looking guilty. Sad. “I'm sorry. I know you're upset, and I hate it, but I know there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry.”

“I called my mom. She didn't answer. And my aunt wouldn't let me talk to her.”

Giles stared at him so long the driver behind them had to honk to get him to go through the light. He did, but his lips were pressed in a thin line. “That's fucked up. I don't—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I'm sorry. I'm not helping.”

Aaron settled sideways in his seat, watching Giles drive. “It feels like it's not real. It makes me angry. Crazy angry. And scared.”

“I want to drive over there and hit her.” Giles's knuckles were white against the wheel. “
Seriously.
How the fuck do you kick out your own son? Over a fucking
major
?”

“It was like this when she divorced my dad and he wouldn't take her back. Aunt Carol came and stayed with us, and she kept telling me sometimes the world is too hard for my mom.”

“Well that's a fuck of a coping mechanism.” Giles squeezed Aaron's hand tight. “I'll never do that to you. Ever. I've been to the mountaintop, and I came down with an Uzi. You're strong too, and you're going to get through this. The world's not too hard for you, Aaron. And you don't have to face it on your own.”

Aaron kissed his hand and kept it pressed to his lips until Giles ran it up his face, sliding fingers into his hair.

C
hapter Twenty-Five

A
t Timothy, all the way to Aaron's room they ran into music people. They hugged Aaron and wiped at their eyes, took things out of his hands, helping carry until what should have taken four trips became one with twelve people assisting. They came by with groceries—as if Mrs. Mulder hadn't sent Aaron with more ramen and single-serve mac and cheese than he could ever eat in a lifetime.

Even Giles picked up on how intense people were being. “I'm sorry. Do you want me to send them away?”

Aaron shrugged. “They mean well.”

“Yes, but…God, we were like this back at home, weren't we?” When Aaron said nothing, he winced. “
So
sorry. What can I do to help?”

It almost made Aaron laugh, but in a macabre kind of way. “I just need a little time by myself.”

Giles lit up. “Hey—what about a practice room? How many people can be using them right after we get back from a break?”

That was a good idea, actually, and though Giles was ready to bribe anyone he had to, it turned out exactly three people wanted the practice rooms, so not only did Aaron have no issues scoring one, he got the one with the best baby grand. His only issue was convincing Giles to leave him alone.

“It's not that I don't want to be with you.” His gaze fixed on their joined hands because he couldn't bring himself to look his boyfriend in the eye.

Giles caught his hand in a firmer grip and squeezed. “I know. Only promise me you'll call or text or stop by if you need anything.”

Aaron promised.

It was funny, he thought as he settled in at the keys, letting the music that had been dogging him unfurl. He had always felt so lonely, and he still did—except with so many people around him, he began to understand lonely wasn't about how many people were with him, about who loved him or hated him. It was about who he was inside. All his feelings were too sharp, too heavy. His hands moved over the keys, and he thought about his mother. Pushing past the pain of her betrayal, he made himself examine the woman underneath, Beth Seavers who was overwhelmed by everything.

The world is too hard.
It had made Giles angry, but Aaron thought he understood, especially in this moment.
Too much feeling. Nowhere to put it.

Aaron had somewhere to put it. It was a little cocky, but he thought he was getting pretty damn good at taking emotions and making something beautiful out of them.

He played for hours without realizing it. Enough people had come back that the practice rooms
were
in demand, and someone knocked on the door to let him know it was well past the end of his turn. To his surprise, it was almost nine.

He texted Giles on the way to his room to let him know he was okay, and crossed the common, humming the melody to his composition, annoyed at how it kept morphing into the instrumental line from the main
Frozen
theme. Damn the movie anyway. He felt like he was chasing something through the fog. Sometimes he could see it, but whenever he tried too hard, it ran out through his fingers.

When Aaron returned to his dorm, Elijah and his parents were still there.

On the surface nothing was different. Maybe Elijah looked leaner, a little more hollow around the eyes, but that was it. They shuffled in the same way they always did, Elijah saying nothing, his parents glaring around the room. Mrs. Prince stood with her son at the window, murmuring prayers and whatnot. Mr. Prince glared at Aaron.

Except this time the tension in the room was so unbearable it was difficult to breathe. Aaron didn't leave the room or put on his headphones and tune them out. He sat. He watched. He played back all the other times this scene had gone down. He remembered what had happened with him at home, how Giles's parents had reacted to it. He watched Elijah's parents “parent” him.

Never, not once, had Mr. or Mrs. Prince fussed over Elijah the way Mr. and Mrs. Mulder did over Aaron and Giles. They didn't ask to make sure Elijah had enough money and clean clothes and wished him good luck on his studies. They apologized to God for his sinful nature and warned him not to associate with devils who would lead him astray. Everything about them was a cartoon, the kind of religious freakishness Aaron had always assumed couldn't possibly be real and yet was right there in front of him—and this time he made himself marinate in it. Imagining what it would be like to live with it every single day.

Imagining knowing, despite Emily's buttons and Reece's horrible T-shirts, that being gay wasn't something he could change, and neither could Elijah.

He remembered the pregnant moment when Aaron had come back late and Elijah had looked like he wanted to talk. His request that Aaron simply not tell his parents anything about being gay—not that there was anything wrong with his being so. He thought about Giles's report about how Elijah whored himself out on Grindr under an assumed name…then went home on the weekends to
this
.

Elijah, whatever else he was doing, was playing a seriously fucked-up game.

When the Princes left, Aaron thought about confronting Elijah, trying to open the door between them one last time. But when push came to shove, when he stood there staring down his bristly roommate, his own wounds still raw and crazy inside him, he couldn't do it.

Too much feeling.
Retreating into his bed, Aaron pulled out his iPad and worked on his composition some more, though he kept getting stuck on the
Frozen
melody lines. Making up his own was, apparently, just too hard. The same way confronting his roommate was too hard.

Maybe you're a lot more like Beth after all.

Drawing the covers over his head, Aaron lay there in the dark, not sleeping while the melodies clashed inside his head.

G
iles did the best he could to take care of Aaron, but he wasn't always sure how to go about it.

He listened and said soothing things when Aaron told him about his aunt calling to make sure he wasn't dying in the street—not helping, just making sure he wasn't going to be on the news. When the controller's office told Aaron he had until Monday to pay his bill—apparently his dad had been paying monthly installments and now stopped, and the scholarship wasn't fully set up yet—Giles held Aaron's hand and told him everything would be okay. But before he could call his own dad to ask for help, Nussy and Allison stormed over to Old Main, knocked some heads around, and after that Aaron's bills were considered covered, full stop. When Aaron's dad started emailing and calling, making vague and sometimes specific threats if Aaron didn't stop fucking around and start toeing the line, it was Brian who set up a filtering system for the email and blocked Jim Seavers's texts and calls from coming into Aaron's phone.

Giles did his best to buffer against the onslaught of well-meaning friends, doing what they could to take away some of Aaron's pain, but ironically it was from watching this play out that Giles realized how little anyone could do. Everyone had a different tactic: some people distracted, some bled with Aaron. Some brought gifts, some tried to make him smile. Some waited for instructions. Some stood beside Giles like a protective barrier. Walter called and texted often, and Kelly sent animated Disney GIFs. The Salvo girls formed a circle around Aaron whenever they walked down a hall, his personal Amazon tribe.

Nothing really registered. The only one who got anywhere was Dr. Nussenbaum. Where her husband all but got on his knees and pledged vows of scholarships like a supplicant, Aaron's piano instructor smiled and asked him about his playing—and Aaron answered. Several times Giles passed them in the hall and heard him telling her about a composition he was working on, a melody line he couldn't get out of his head.

“The thing is, I'm copying something else.” His shoulders got tight when he said that, and his hand against the bulletin board beside him curled like a claw. “I want it to be mine, but I keep falling into other people's songs. There's too much noise in my head.”

“Then clear the noise,” Dr. Nussenbaum told him. Giles hadn't heard the rest of their conversation because Mina had pulled him away.

The phrase echoed in his head, though.
Clear the noise.

Giles could do that.

One Saturday in late February, Giles met Aaron at his dorm door bright and early. Aaron sat with his tablet on his lap and his headphones on, curled up in the corner of his bed. Giles had to let himself in, which startled Elijah, but Aaron didn't even look up.

Elijah frowned at Giles, but Giles ignored him, too focused on his boyfriend. He smiled to himself as he saw Aaron had the piano app open, his left hand picking out notes as his right hand jotted notes on staff paper. His lips were pursed tight, his eyes hollow from lack of sleep. Giles could see him chasing the tiger, the tail slipping forever out of his grasp.

Let me help you catch him.

He sat on the edge of Aaron's bed. Aaron startled, as if Giles had materialized out of thin air into his realm of focus.

Giles touched his hand. “Hey. Get your things. I have a surprise for you.”

Aaron shuttered. “I want to work on this. I almost have it.”

He said that every time Giles caught him composing. Giles brushed his thumb across the back of Aaron's hand. “Bring it along. Trust me. You're going to find it today.”

It took a few tries to get Aaron out the door, but Giles managed it. Bundling him against the cold, Giles led him across campus.

“It's snowing again. I'm so fucking tired of snow. Shouldn't it be warmer by now?” Aaron hunched deeper into his coat, tugging his hood back down as a gust of wind tried to take it away. “Where are we going? We're passing the music building.”

“We're going to the White House.”

Aaron balked, stopping dead in his tracks. “Giles, I can't. I don't want to be around people right now.”

Giles faced him, blinking at him through the fat flakes the wind blew against his skin. “There's nobody there. It's just us. They all went to breakfast, and at best they'll be in the carriage house. They'll come back to sleep, but if you want to stay until six tomorrow morning, the practice room and Fred are yours. All day.”

Aaron blinked at him. “What? Why?”

“Because I wanted to help you clear the noise.” Giles took his hand and pulled him forward. “Come on.”

It was weird to be in the house with no one else there, but Giles liked it. Baz had already assured him they were in for the next year—space for Brian too, if he wanted to come. They could have it in June if they wanted it, in fact. Giles had to check with his parents because they'd have to cover Aaron's half of the rent…but Giles loved the idea of going to class all day and coming home to find Aaron composing.

Like he was about to do now.

Giles led him to the parlor, to Fred. He plunked his backpack on a side table and unloaded as he talked, setting out the bottles of water, bags of candy, meal bars, nuts. “This is your room for the day. You've got pencils and a sharpener. Baz brought in a card table so you could spread out notes if you wanted. I'll set up the buffet here on the windowsill, but if you need anything else, stick your head out. I'm going to take your phone so nobody bugs you, but I'll be in the living room the whole time, killing myself over this fucking theory assignment Allison gave me.” He picked up the empty thermos and swung it absently. “I'll fill this in the kitchen and set it by the door with a mug. Do you want travel or ceramic?”

Aaron stared at him like he hadn't heard a word Giles said. “What is all this?”

Giles fought the lump of impotent hurt and rage in his chest. “I want to help you. I want to make it all go away, but the more I watch everyone try to take away the pain, the more I realize none of us can. The only time you seem happy is when you're composing. So compose. All day. Remember, there's even a half bath off this room. You don't have to come out at all. Unless you want to, obviously—but I wanted to give you this. A day with your music.”

Because I think the only way for you to work through this pain is to play it away, to turn it into a song.

He didn't know what he expected—not a big smile or anything, but he was breathless, waiting for Aaron's reaction.
Please see me trying to help you. Please see me loving you. No matter what else you see or feel, know that.

Aaron closed the distance between them and nuzzled Giles's cheek with the stubble of his unshaven beard. He did it again, squeezing Giles's arm before he spoke.

“Thanks.”

Giles brushed a kiss on his scruff. “Anytime.”

At first he wasn't sure it was going to work. For an hour he didn't hear any music, and eventually, worried something was wrong, Giles got off the couch and peeked through the crack in the door.

Aaron was curled up in the corner of the huge room, his tablet in his lap. The piano sat in the middle of the room, untouched. No headphones—when Aaron shifted, Giles saw the screen and recognized the layout of a solitaire game.

Seriously?
He'd given Aaron the whole room, for the
whole damn day
, and he wasn't using it? What the fucking hell?

He'd sent everyone away for nothing. He felt so angry, frustrated, embarrassed.

The emptiness of the house swelled around him, all but shouting
duh
. Giles gathered his things and went into the kitchen. He didn't put his headphones on at first, but the complete and utter lack of sound coming from the parlor drove him crazy, so he put on the Mozart early symphonies he used for background studying music and went to work.

He tried to focus on his assignment, but he kept wondering how things were going with Aaron. He'd forgotten the coffee, so he took a break to make it, filling the thermos. Since he'd never gotten an answer over what Aaron wanted, he set both the travel mug and a regular ceramic on the floor by the door.