[just touch me again]

Title: Just Touch Me Again

Author: rowan

Disclaimer: As I am Howie's maid, I saw all this first hand. I also have some ocean front property in Nevada I’d like to show you.

Note: Shmoopier than any shmoopy thing ever written in the history of shmoop. Thar be no sex in these here hills.

Feedback: would be the matchbox twenty to my train; the bacon to my n*sync; the howard to my alexander…

Quote: It shouldn’t be so complicated/ Just touch me and then/ Just touch me again. –Matchbox Twenty. Bent.

Sunlight poured through the large sliding glass doors. The cream colored walls reflected back the heavy golden light, shining it across the room and it flowed across the floor and up onto the bed. Howie felt the warmth spreading along his naked back. He opened his eyes slowly- testing the brightness of the light. Once they'd adjusted, the first thing Howie saw was the vacancy in the left side of his bed.

An empty space that should still be filled by the man who’d fallen asleep there the night before. An empty space rumpled and mussed by the restless movements of a brown-haired man wrestling with nightmares. Nightmares that had stopped when Howie had placed a sleep-warm hand on AJ’s arm and whispered 'it's just a dream- it can't hurt you' with his lips flush against the pierced shell of AJ's ear. Howie grazed the fingers of his left hand over the wrinkles and bunches in the sheets. The fabric was cool beneath the fingertips. He sighed and whispered a quick prayer to himself in hopes that AJ hadn't really left this time, but was maybe only in the bathroom.

Howie rolled over into a sitting position with his feet grazing the carpet. His right leg was a little asleep and his foot tingled painfully against the carpet. He stood up to take in the view of the ocean- beyond his balcony and his section of coastline- and the small wooden crucifix on the wall next to the glass doors. White sands faded into jade-green water that simmered out to the horizon. Howie worried his bottom lip with his teeth as he made his way to the closet. After rummaging through the drawers he found his oldest pair of jeans- with the tear above the knee and the back pockets frayed almost to nothing. He pulled them on, covering his nakedness. The light in the bathroom was dull compared to the sunlight that filled his room and Howie wouldn't allow himself to be surprised when he found the small room empty. Howie exhaled deeply. He brushed his teeth quickly. After splashing water on his face and running a damp hand through the tangles and waves of his hair, he felt a little better about the fact that AJ had run- leaving Howie alone as usual.

Howie’s bare feet made no sound on the cold hardness of the marble floor of the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of orange juice from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, poured a glass, and drank it slowly. Once the glass was in the sink, Howie was all out of ideas for stuff to do to avoid thinking too much.

Last night, as he'd fallen asleep- listening to AJ's slow breathing and the faintest sound of crashing waves- he'd dreamed a little of waking up tomorrow and eating breakfast in bed with AJ. Now, tomorrow had become today. And he had woken up. But AJ was gone, and breakfast was absolutely the last thing he wanted. He was a little angry with himself; AJ had never made him any promises. Howie couldn't figure why he was acting so heartbroken.

They’d had a sort of silent agreement: AJ was just supposed to be a warm body to hold on a chilled night- someone safe to get him off so he didn’t spend so much time worrying about who would talk to the press. Someone to fuck when he was horny- or lonely. It didn’t mean anything.

Howie tried to remind himself, but it wasn’t working. He tried to be angry. Anything to avoid getting depressed, but that passed rather quickly. He just felt a familiar sadness tugging at his insides and making him uncomfortable.

Howie glanced at the clock display on the microwave- 8:12, on a Sunday morning. For a minute, Howie considered going to church. But then he realized the idea felt distasteful right then. He didn't want to face his family or his God. He thought about just going back to bed, but at that moment, his bed was just as appealing as church.

Instead, Howie wandered into the living room. Two empty coke bottles sat on the coffee table next to a bowl of cold uneaten popcorn. Fake monopoly money was scattered on the otherwise pristine white carpet.

Howie sprawled on the couch, listening to the small unobtrusive noises filling the silence. He could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantle, the bubble of the filter in the aquarium, and the rustle of the leaves of a tall plant near the wall being rustled by the ceiling fan. Howie stared at his possessions, assembled so nicely, and kept so clean. The color of the walls- meant to feel warm- felt oppressive and suffocating. Howie stood up, well aware that he was thinking himself into a depression. He also realized that this mood probably wasn't just about AJ not sticking around to eat cinnamon rolls and orange juice as the sun spilled over the bed, painting their naked skin gold. This pain he felt had to mean there was something important happening, but Howie wasn't ready to admit it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the harsh cry of a seagull as it came to a perch on the balcony railing. Howie went to the doors and looked down onto the beach. After a second, he turned back toward the bedroom. He pointedly avoided seeing the rumbled sheets and twisted blankets on the bed. He pulled a T-shirt from the same drawer his jeans had been in. He didn't stop for shoes or bother to lock the sliding glass doors behind him as he left the condo. He made his way slowly down the twisting staircase, his grip loose on the iron railing.

The sand was soft and hot to the soles of his feet. The taste of salt rode the breeze as it fluttered past, further tousling his hair. He strode to the water's edge with the same lethargic gait he’d used as he'd meandered through his condo. He had no idea what he was doing out there. Howie had never been the type of person who took solitary walks on the beach 'just because'. He wasn't like Nick, who would trade in his large estate for a shack at the shoreline if he could. For Howie, the beach was a place for picnics with friends. And helping his nieces and nephews build sand castles. It was a somewhere for 'doing', not somewhere for 'being'.

Despite all that, Howie continued, ignoring the itch and tickle of sand as his feet sank into the stuff with every step until he was almost at the water’s edge. Howie dropped to the ground with a soft grunt. He sank his hands into the damp sand. An incoming wave quickly soaked the seat of his jeans, chilling his skin and raising goose bumps on his flesh. Howie shivered with the sea breeze despite the warmth of the sun beating down onto his head.

He planned to sit there until he felt better, but when dark clouds blew in, effectively covering the sun, he had to go inside.

The next day, Howie’s phone rang. He muted The Simpson’s and answered it.

AJ’s graveled voice seemed to echo inside Howie’s head. “Come have dinner with me.”

“Hello to you, too,” Howie replied.

A tiny snippet of laughter, and AJ said “Sorry. Hello, D. Come have dinner with me.”

Howie glanced at the TV. “Why?” He asked shortly.

AJ sighed loudly. “Why not?”

“Could you please not play with me right now?”

“I need to explain. I owe you an apology,” AJ said.

“Fuck buddies don’t deserve explanations or apologies. Hell, we don't even deserve 'goodbye',” Howie said heatedly, but quietly. He wondered when he had gotten angry. Angry meant there was emotion, and there wasn’t supposed to be emotion here.

AJ was quiet. Finally, he spoke, “you mad at me, D?”

It was Howie’s turn to sigh. “I guess.”

“Are you going to let me explain?" AJ pleaded. Howie could hear a hint of distress in his voice. Howie stared at the TV for a long time. He could practically feel AJ squirming at the other end of the connection.

“I guess,” Howie repeated.

“Good. I’m gonna come cook for you. OK?”

“Whatever.”

“I really am sorry.”

“OK.”

Howie heard AJ swear quietly before he pressed END and dropped the phone onto the floor in front of the couch. He pressed VOL. UP on the remote and the sound resumed.

He really wished he’d said ‘no’.

One hour later, AJ knocked boldly on Howie’s front door. Howie answered. A draft of his vanilla shampoo hit AJ in the face, and AJ stared at the man before him. Howie’s hair hung in damp tendrils, shining darkly. He wore a black wife-beater and dark denim jeans. AJ's fears were realized, as he took in the sadness in Howie's unsmiling eyes. Howie turned without a word. AJ shut the door behind him and followed Howie into the kitchen.

“So you know where everything is, right?”

AJ nodded as he put a paper grocery bag down on one marble counter top. Howie took a Corona from the fridge. He looked at AJ. AJ removed his shades revealing his warm brown eyes. Howie swallowed despite his dry mouth and left the room.

AJ muttered ‘fuck’ a few times and slid his glasses back onto his face. He turned to the task at hand: cooking both a distraction from and en excuse for what he planned to do tonight. He rummaged in a cabinet, searching for a colander to drain the pasta. Faintly, he made out the plinking tones of Howie’s guitar through the closed door. He didn't recognize the song- something slow and sad. AJ stopped what he was doing to peer into Howie’s refrigerator. His hand wavered in front of the glass bottles of beer. He took a deep breath, grabbed a bottle of coke instead, and shut the door quickly. The ache he’d been feeling inside deepened. He chugged half of it in one pull. He knew he'd managed another of his huge fuck-ups. His one hope was that this one was fixable.

Howie half-heartedly plucked out a melody on his guitar. The reddish light of the setting sun that tinted his room orange too closely resembled the light that had shone when he'd found AJ gone yesterday. That uncomfortable ache in his heart made his guitar more trouble than it was worth at the time, and he knew no song he wrote then would be anything but depressive self-loathing set to a stilted melody. At least he wasn't crying.

He heard AJ rummaging through cabinets and turning the faucets on and off. Soon he could smell red peppers and clams. AJ's clam sauce; Howie's favorite. Howie moved from where he leaned against the foot of the bed to a metal chair on the balcony. Out there, all he could smell was the ocean.

By the time AJ knocked on the door to Howie's bedroom to call him to dinner, Howie had finished his beer and half of the flask of scotch he’d found in a drawer in his nightstand. He felt only slightly guilty at consuming so much alcohol while AJ was there. He had long ago abandoned his guitar, preferring instead to stare at the dull sparkle of stars against the inky black sky. The alcohol had steeled his nerves enough that he could sit through AJ's apology and AJ's food without breaking down. Because that is exactly was he was bordering on: a breakdown. Really, it was all he had left. The sporadic bursts of anger were so fleeting he couldn't rely on them to help at all. Sometime yesterday, on the beach, he'd decided he didn't want to forgive AJ this time. He regretted letting this 'fling' go so far without talking about it, or establishing rules. Such as ‘don’t fall in love’ and ‘don't get my heart broken’. But it was too late now.

AJ took a startled step backwards when Howie opened the door. He cleared his throat roughly.

"I'm done."

Howie blinked. AJ turned and walked back to the kitchen. Howie was just a breath behind him. Instead of the dining room table, which sat twelve, AJ had spread their place settings on the marbled-topped kitchen-island. Steam rose from two generous bowls of linguini pasta. Between them sat a ceramic serving bowl of the faintly red clam sauce. Beads of condensation formed on the two very cold glasses of water- a necessity when consuming the spicy sauce. The condensation dripped down the glasses forming puddles on the marble. AJ hopped up onto his stool; Howie was much more hesitant as he climbed up onto the other. Howie picked up his fork tentatively. AJ watched him, and when Howie looked up, they locked gazes. AJ's brown irises were the color of melted dark chocolate. Howie saw a faint twitch at the corner of AJ's mouth. AJ stared into Howie's eyes and he remembered why he hadn't been able to make himself pick up the phone and call Howie until late that afternoon.

AJ had awakened early Sunday morning, just before the sun began to rise, with Howie's arm resting across his stomach. He felt Howie's warm breath heating the crook of his neck. AJ's heart was slowly speeding up with each of Howie's exhalations. Last night was still with him, bold in his memory. It was the first night he’d slept with anyone after getting out of rehab four months prior.

It was the first time he’d slept with Howie while he sober.

Regret crashed over him in waves, threatening to drown him. Something akin to panic seized him. AJ very carefully moved Howie's arm and slid from under from his grasp.

AJ told himself he was just going to the bathroom as he climbed into his jeans. He told himself he was going to make coffee as he crept from Howie's room. And he told himself he was going to get bagels when he took his keys from the hook beside the door and let himself out. At home, he lay in front of the TV, aimlessly for hours. He could still feel Howie’s fingers on his skin. Still feel sweet cool kisses and slow heated embraces.

He went through an entire twelve can case of Coke.

AJ stayed locked away in his bedroom, ignoring the phone, for the rest of the day.

The next morning, AJ woke with a guilty conscious. The ache in his heart told him he’d been unbelievably wrong to leave Howie like that yesterday. Over a meager breakfast, he managed to admit to himself that what he really wanted was to wake up next to Howie a lot more often, but admitting things to yourself is a far cry easier than admitting them to others. He wasn't ready to tell Howie. AJ lay by his pool, thinking about Howie and wishing he weren't such a coward. It took a long time for his common sense to overwhelm his fear. When it finally did, AJ went for his phone quickly, before he lost his nerve.

Hours later, as he sat at the island in Howie's kitchen, staring at the man that had turned his world over on its ass, his fears had begun to regroup and it was taking all he had not to cave in. He could feel Howie watching him with those liquid doe eyes, waiting for an explanation or a confession- anything to make the pain go away.

AJ couldn’t make himself say anything yet. Howie began to eat, picking carefully at the pasta. AJ started talking after about the second bite, and Howie swallowed hard, chasing his food with half of his water.

“I never thought it would get this bad,” AJ began in a low voice, and Howie leaned forward a little. “I meant what I said that first time. All I wanted was sex. And I know it sounds mean and cheap now, but then I figured if I wanted love and affection, I could wait until I saw Amanda again. So I guess I was using you.” He was vividly remembering the first time he and Howie had spent the night in each other’s drunken embraces.

“I was, too,” Howie said suddenly.

AJ looked up, startled, as if he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room.

“I was using you, too,” Howie clarified.

AJ nodded as if he understood.

“Last night, I could tell it was different. First, I realized I could remember it all. That’d never happened before.” His voice trailed off toward the end, as if he was just now realizing these things and wasn’t sure they should be said out loud.

AJ paused, and as the seconds ticked by, sounding off loudly from the wall clock. AJ saw fear dart through Howie’s eyes.

“I’m not sure I like where this is going,” Howie whispered into his plate.

AJ smiled sadly and continued. He had to. “Right after Amanda and I broke up, I started to notice it. That when I was with you, I didn’t drink as much. And I felt better. And how I started to think…” AJ took a deep breath. “I started to think that maybe, it wasn’t just sex anymore. I started to look forward to being with you, Howie. You’ve got me so turned around. Right after I got out, I could feel it even more. I wanted you, Howie. Badly. But I didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t know how to make it happen with out alcohol.”

Suddenly, Howie spoke, “AJ, stop.” AJ looked at him in shock. “Just. Don’t. Ok? Just stop talking. I can’t let you say that to me.”

AJ stared at him in complete and total confused horror. “What?”

Howie climbed down from his stool and paced away from the island a little before turning back. He crossed his arms, nervously rubbing the muscles there. He glanced at AJ, who was still sitting silently, watching him.

“Howie,” AJ said softly.

“AJ, I’m sorry. But, I don’t want you to love me. I don’t want to hear you tell me you love me. I thought I did. I spent twenty of the most depressed hours moping around, wishing you would and hoping that you did. I was in my room just now, waiting for you, and making myself fucking sick with it. And I don’t want to hear it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“AJ, don’t yell at me.” AJ felt anger flair hotly across his face. Howie ran an aggravated hand through his tangled hair and closed his eyes. AJ didn’t know what to do. This was so not how he planned for this to go.

“Listen, AJ. You want to apologize for helping to fuck things up between us? Fine. You wanna come here under the guise of making me dinner? Fine. But there are two things I’m not letting you do: you can’t apologize for fucking me when you were drunk or for being a coward for four months. He paused. “And you can’t tell me you’re in love with me. Because we both know that you’re not. You can’t be.”

AJ winced under the weight of Howie’s harsh words. There was nothing for him to say.

AJ busied himself in the kitchen- throwing out the uneaten food and stacking things in the dishwasher. He wiped the counter down, pushed the stools up to the counter, and threw the grocery bag away. He was doing an excellent job of avoiding Howie. A fairly easy task when you considered than Howie had left the apartment completely and was down at the shore, avoiding AJ.

Howie wondered how he ended up leaving his own apartment and how AJ had managed to knock his entire world so completely off its axis. He figured AJ wouldn't give up that easily; he would probably be out to talk try to talk to him soon. Howie hoped he'd be able avoid giving in. Deep down inside he knew he wasn't strong and this night was seriously testing his limits.

AJ walked up behind Howie and sat down without saying a word. Howie glanced at him hesitantly before returning his gaze to the rolling waves of the ocean.

AJ fidgeted with the sand at his feet. “Howie? Do you love me?” He asked quietly.

Howie inhaled a quick breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t speak.

“Howie?”

“Of course I do, AJ. I love a lot of people.” His voice was barely above a whisper, nearly lost in the crashing waves.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” AJ said. “Do you love me like you love the guys or do you love me? It’s a simple question, Howie. I’m not asking you to do anything. I just need to know.”

Howie nodded once.

AJ smiled. “I thought so,” he said, relief evident in his voice. For a while he’d begun to doubt himself again. “You have to let me try, Howie.”

“Try what?”

“I’m in love with you. Completely. And there’s not shit I can do to stop that. So all I can do is try to make you see that it’s not the end of the world. That just because we had a fucked up start doesn’t mean we’re going to crash and burn in the end. And you already love me, so you have to let me try.”

Howie stared at him.

AJ stared back.

AJ looked away first, helpless under Howie’s intense expression.

“I’ll hate you forever if you hurt me again.”

“I know.”

They were silent for a while. AJ had said all he had to say. And Howie was quiet with stress and a little too much alcohol. Finally, Howie reached a tentative hand over and just barely nudged AJ knee. AJ looked up, startled. Howie could see everything AJ was thinking lay bare in his tired eyes.

“I can let you try.”

AJ turned to him, slowly. He didn’t want to disturb the delicate balance of what was happening between them. He felt he was gaining something. AJ moved up into a crouch and crawled around in front of Howie. He sat back on his heels. Cautiously, he reached a hand up and brushed back the loose strands of Howie’s hair and rested his knuckles on Howie’s cheek. Howie shivered at the touch, which, he had to admit was not entirely un-welcome. “Really?” AJ asked simply.

Howie turned his face to side and planted a dry kiss on AJ’s wrist. It was AJ’s turn to shiver. “Really.”

~Fin. 27 September 2001.

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