"Nothing," Karl replied, a little more sharply than he'd intended. He didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it, not even with Simon. They had stopped by their usual pub just off-campus to have a pint after herding the last of their students out of the door, but today Karl's heart really wasn't in it. He should've begged off, gone home, brooded in silence on his sofa without well-meaning friends trying to make him talk. "C'mon," Simon said, nudging at Karl's shoulder. "Is it one of your students or the budget cut talks or what? You know Bruce'll go to bat for you on the new microscopes, yeah?" "It's nothing," Karl stressed, even though he knew protesting was pretty pointless. He wondered if he could get a shot to go with his beer. Getting royally drunk sounded like a pretty good idea at the moment. "Bollocks." Simon jabbed a finger to the bar countertop in emphasis. "Something's obviously happened and it's my duty as your best mate to find out what it is." Karl sighed, defeated. Fuck it. It was bound to come out sooner or later, and maybe if he gave Simon a small bone, he'd be content with that and let it lie. "I suppose you got the email that Chris Pine accepted Carter's old position teaching the Advanced Physics track." "Yeah, so?" Simon shrugged, after another sip of his ale. "He was a brilliant student when he was here, heard he's done a bang-up job the last couple of years teaching at BU. If you're worried about his age, I'll remind you that you started here when you were 26 and you haven't blown anything up yet or killed a student." "This isn't about his credentials." "So, what is it about?" Fuck. So much for the small bone theory. "I really don't want to talk about it," Karl repeated, and took a long pull from his beer. "Karl..." Karl groaned in sheer frustration, and gave up. "Alright, fine, you nosey fucking bastard." "I resent that, you've met my mother." "Shut it. Anyway, back when Chris was a student here and I was in charge of his core Biology studies, we, um, had..." Karl stopped. How the hell could he categorize what had happened? "You had...?" Simon prompted, nudging Karl's shoulder again. "We, um, we slept together," Karl finished lamely, wondering, if he prayed hard enough, a black hole would appear under his stool to suck him into another dimension to save him from the sheer embarrassment of this entire conversation. Simon's eyes widened slightly, but his voice was level enough when he replied. "Was this when you were with Zoe?" "No, before." In fact, Karl was ashamed to admit it, but one of the reasons he'd gone after Zoe so hard was to erase the memory of Chris from his mind. Not one of his better moments. Thankfully, he and Zoe had managed to stay friends after everything had ended. "Right, so no cheating, that's good," Simon nodded. Karl was beginning to think maybe he had gone into that other dimension after all, because no way Simon was making any sense. "No, Simon, it's not good at all." "Because...um, hold on, why isn't it good that you weren't cheating on Zoe?" Karl pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger, hoping in vain to stave off the inevitable headache. "That's not what's not good, pay attention. What's not good is that Chris was a student when I slept with him. My fucking student." "Ah, well, then, yes," Simon said, pushing his black-framed glasses up his nose with his finger. "That does make it tricky. But you wouldn't be the first to go down that road, lad." Karl barely stopped himself from smacking his head against the counter. "Thanks for letting me know I'm a cliché." "Clichés wouldn't be clichés if there wasn't a grain of truth to them," Simon pointed out philosophically. "So...I take it that it didn't end well?" "You could say that," Karl drawled, giving Simon an incredulous look. No one could possibly be that obtuse. "Right, yeah, sorry. Alright, any chance you two could have a drink or two and work this out like adults?" "Possibly, I don't know," Karl replied, with a helpless shrug. He hadn't even thought about talking to Chris. He'd been too busy panicking since he'd gotten the email earlier today. "I haven't seen him since he transferred out six years ago." "Well, here's your chance." "What?" "To talk to Chris. He's just walked in with Zoe," Simon replied, with a wave of his fingers. Karl jerked his head towards the door. It had been six years, but just seeing Chris again – that familiar mop of blond hair, that familiar loose-limbed gait – was like a punch to the gut. Karl felt like every bit of breath in his body had left in a single whoosh of air, like maybe his lungs would never work right again. There was a curious buzzing in his ears, and his heart thundered in his chest so loudly he was surprised that Simon couldn't hear it. Simon was still talking, but the words were meaningless, an indistinct murmur that washed over Karl like the tide. He couldn't take his eyes off of Chris. Even with his sunglasses on and wearing a hip-length leather coat that hid his frame, he still looked amazing. Chris had his hand on the small of Zoe's back to guide her through the crowd, and the memory of a time when those same hands had glided over Karl's own back for a far less innocent reason shredded what was left of his equilibrium. Then fingers snapped in front of his face, bringing his attention back to Simon. "Earth to Karl, mate." "Sorry, I was just, ah..." "Yeah, I could see that," Simon chuckled, shaking his head. "Christ, you're in a bad way. I can't believe I didn't know about this six years ago." "Wasn't like I wanted to go around advertising that I was screwing a student," Karl mumbled, watching out of the corner of his eye as Chris and Zoe disappeared around a corner and towards the back of the bar where there were more tables and booths. "I'm not just anyone, am I? But doesn't matter," Simon continued, before Karl could protest. "You're going to be working together now, and the last thing we need is you in a strop because your romance went all pear-shaped." "It wasn't a romance." "Whatever you want to call it." "I call it what it was," Karl stated, squeezing his fingers around the base of his glass so hard his knuckles turned white. "Something that shouldn't have happened." "I agree," Simon said, then fixed Karl with a look that Karl couldn't quite decipher. "But, he's not your student anymore." Karl's stomach bottomed out at the implications of what Simon was (and wasn't) saying. "Don't tell me you think I should..." "If he's still got you all tied up in this many knots, maybe you need to figure out why that is." The last thing he wanted to do was try to comb through the tangle of his emotions where Chris was concerned, but Simon did have a point. They were all going to be working together now, and it was best to begin on the right step. The least Karl owed Chris after all this time was a drink. At least Chris was old enough to legally have one now, his traitorous mind supplied. He shot off a quick text to Zoe (it was easier than calling and far less awkward, considering): Hey love, just saw you and Chris walk in. Mind if I borrow Chris for a pint to congratulate him? I'd've texted him, but I don't have his number. His phone buzzed almost immediately: Chris says you're buying. He's on his way over now. Karl held up his phone so Simon could read the message. "Excellent." Simon rubbed his hands together. "I think I'll go and keep Zoe company." Karl blinked. "You're not staying?" "Absolutely not. It's your domestic, not mine." "Stop being reasonable, it's annoying." "Look, here's how I see it." Simon started drumming his fingers on the counter in an odd rhythm the way he did when he was trying to work something out in his head. "He wasn't rubbish in bed, was he?" Instantly, Karl's body tightened at the memory of Chris' assured hands on his body, the taste of Chris' skin against his tongue. "Uh, no." "And you're not rubbish in bed, correct?" This was, without a doubt, the weirdest conversation Karl'd had in months, which was saying something in his line of work. "No one's complained." Simon beamed at him like he was one of Simon's students giving a correct answer to a pop quiz. "Then, given that both of you are adults and are now, in fact, compatriots and not supervisor/subordinate, it wouldn't be the worst thing ever if you two thought about giving things another whirl on the merry-go-round." "I just told you –" Simon cut him off with a shake of his head. "Yes, I know. It's just something to keep in mind." Just then, Chris rounded the corner and Karl forgot his earlier argument. Chris had taken off his jacket and now Karl could see his outfit – grey t-shirt, jeans, bright blue converse, ever present scarf (also grey) around his neck – and, more importantly, he'd lost the sunglasses so Karl could see his eyes. They were still the same unwavering, unreal blue, but now they were without the warmth they used to hold. And Chris wasn't smiling the way he always used to, either. Karl supposed neither of them had a lot to smile about. "Simon. Karl." If Chris voice caught slightly on Karl's name, Karl wasn't going to remark on it. "Thanks for coming over," he replied, instead. "And that's my cue," Simon declared, and stood. "I'll be over with Zoe if you need me. Don't need me." "Thanks, Simon," Karl dryly replied, then waited for Simon to leave and Chris to sit next to him before saying anything. He noticed that Chris kept a careful distance between them. "Can I, uh, get you anything?" "Whatever you're having's fine." Karl put up two fingers to the bartender to signal another round, then sat back. They studied each other in silence. Karl wondered what Chris saw – would he notice the new wrinkles, the sprinkling of grey hairs, that his face was a little fuller, his body some of its tightness? Chris had certainly grown into his looks. He'd been gorgeous at 20, but it had been an untamed beauty, raw and unfettered. Now he looked like he'd lived a little, settled into himself. He still had that air of cocky charm about him, but it seemed tempered with wisdom and a quiet assurance. People could change a lot in six years, Karl reminded himself. He knew he definitely wasn't the same man. "You look good," he finally ventured, after the bartender had come and gone with two more pints. Chris nodded, then gestured slightly at Karl. "Yeah, you too." Karl was suffocating under the weight of Chris' gaze. He flailed, trying desperately to find any lifeline. "It's been, uh, what, five years?" Chris' eyes flashed before he let out a small, unamused huff of laughter. "It's been six, and you know it." "I guess I do." Karl could feel himself flushing slightly at being caught in the lie, but he ignored it, and kept plowing forward, hoping sheer momentum would get him through this. "I, uh, heard you transferred to Boston College, um, after you left here. To finish your degree." "Well, I wasn't staying in New York," Chris replied, and the edge in his voice was sharp enough to cut glass. Karl had no idea how to answer, so he said the first thing that popped into his head. "You're back now." Chris shrugged, but Karl could tell the move was calculated. "The job offer was too good to refuse." "And is the fact that I'm still here going to be a problem for you?" Karl asked, rubbing his thumb across his glass and carefully not glancing in Chris' direction. He wasn't sure he was courageous enough to face the censure he knew he'd find. "You tell me. Is it?" Still as stubborn as ever, Karl thought, and sighed. "I don't know how many more times I can apologize." Once again, Chris' voice cut the space between them with razor-sharp precision. "I told you back then that I don't want your apologies." "You were my student," Karl hissed, finally looking up. Chris just tilted his chin up and stared right back. "It shouldn't have happened." "I was an adult. I knew what I was doing." You were 20 and I was a decade older, Karl wanted to say, but he knew better. He didn't want to have that argument again. "I'm glad one of us did." A muscle twitched in Chris' jaw. "Do you regret it?" The million dollar question. Did he? "I regret that I couldn't control myself better," he answered, choosing each word with care. "But do I regret what happened? No. I could say I do, but it'd be a lie." Something hot and triumphant glittered in Chris' eyes for a split second. "Good." "But it doesn't change the fact that we shouldn't have done it in the first place. I shouldn't have done it," he emphasized, to forestall the objection he knew was coming. "Your guilt is all you, Karl. I never blamed you for what happened." "You transferred out," Karl reminded him. "Gave up your scholarship, gave up your life. Don't tell me that's not on me." "I transferred to BU because I couldn't be around you knowing I couldn't touch you," Chris replied, his voice rough, raw. "I didn't leave because you slept with me. I left because you stopped. I was in it for the long haul, remember." Karl did remember. And had been terrified at the prospect that this 20 year old kid had been willing to place his entire future in Karl's scarred, shaking hands. "It wouldn't have been right to either of us." "Again, that's you, not me," Chris said. "I knew what I wanted. I still do." "Chris..." "No, we're done." Chris slid off of his stool, stepped back. The distance between them loomed like a canyon that could never be crossed. "When you figure out what you want, we'll talk more. Thanks for the drink." Karl sat back in stunned silence as Chris turned and headed to the back of the bar, hearing only the echo of Chris' last words. What the hell did he want? If he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he'd ever really thought about it. Wasn't sure he'd wanted to, because of the possibility of what he'd find. Maybe he did have the occasional dream about how well Chris had fit in his arms, and maybe, in rare moments of self-reflection, he'd allowed himself to wonder how Chris was doing and if he was happy. But he'd done his best to forget, to put the entire sorry affair in his rearview. And it had been a mistake, no matter what he'd told Chris. He'd abused his position of power and authority, had taken advantage of someone younger and more vulnerable and in his care, and it didn't matter what Chris thought about it, it didn't change how Karl viewed things. But Simon had also been right. Six years was a long time. And Chris was no longer the coltish young man Karl remembered. They'd both gained some hard-won maturity since they'd last seen each other, and maybe...maybe it would be different now. Maybe now they could meet each other as equals and...well, he wasn't sure. But he thought it'd be nice to try. Maybe it was time to finally let go of the guilt of the past and open himself to the possibility of the future. Even if all he did was regain his friendship with Chris, it would be more than what he'd had. It would be enough. *** He forced himself to sleep on it and to ruminate a little more on his walk to campus the next morning, but it wasn't until he found himself outside Chris' classroom that he realized he'd made his decision on what he really wanted and why. Hell, he'd probably made it the second he'd seen Chris in the bar the night before. He knocked on the open door before stepping inside, gaze zeroing in on Chris, who dressed a little more conservatively today in a pair of tan slacks and a button down blue shirt that matched his eyes. At least he'd left the scarf at home, Karl thought, although the snug vest he was wearing was distracting enough. "Mind if I come in?" he asked, when Chris turned around from the chalkboard. "Suit yourself," Chris shrugged, but Karl could see the careful way Chris was holding himself. He supposed they were both entitled to be a little nervous. Karl glanced around the room. "I see you're already starting to redecorate." "I want people to feel comfortable here." Chris crossed his arms across his chest, his expression inscrutable. "What can I do for you?" Chris wasn't going to make it easy on him. Karl hadn't really expected anything else. But he knew what he had to do, and it was long past time he took the first step. "I've been thinking. About what you said last night." "And?" "And I still think I was right to break it off six years ago. You were my student yes, but more importantly, you weren't ready for a serious relationship." Karl held up his hand when Chris made a scoffing noise. "I wasn't ready for a serious relationship. And yes, the age difference meant something back then. You were 20, just starting out in life and I was 30 and had been in relationships and had made mistakes and I was afraid of making another one." The tension in Chris' shoulders eased slightly as he let out a slow breath. "And now?" Karl took a step closer. "I want to get to know you. As you are, right now. The life you've lived, the things you've done, the people you've loved, the person you've become." Another two steps and he was in Chris' space, close, but not close enough to crowd him. "I think it's time we got to know each other as equals." "I wanted that six years ago," Chris told him, not moving an inch. Up close, Karl could make out the small lines around his eyes that hadn't been there when Chris had been a student. Seeing them helped center something inside him. They weren't the same people. "Six years ago we weren't equal," Karl answered softly, and allowed himself to smile when Chris finally nodded. "Yeah...you're probably right." "And we take this slow. If we're going to have a chance, we can't rush into this." "In it for the long haul," Chris said, returning the smile. "But don't make me wait too long to get my hands on you again." "Deal." Karl let out the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. "I don't think I can wait that long myself." Chris' soft chuckle was a welcome balm to Karl's nerves. "That's...strangely gratifying to hear." "It's also the truth. So," Karl said, quirking an eyebrow, "can I buy you dinner tonight?" "Sounds perfect," Chris replied, and when they finally had to say their goodbyes for the day, it felt like a beginning.
|