Reunion

Written by Anakin McFly

The door pulled open, Johnny standing there in the rectangle of warm light, chewing gum, a grin of forced bravado on his face as he recognises him.

"Yeah?"

He hears the noises from inside, catches fleeting shapes of people having fun, the familiar voices raised in laughter or lowered sobriety.

"Can I come in?" he ventures. "It's raining."

It's a pitiful excuse and he knows it, and Johnny knows it too, for who would have walked all this distance in the rain knowing that this was the only shelter around for miles if there had not been some intent in getting in to join them.

From behind Johnny's growing smirk, another voice: "Who is it?" and Johnny leaves his spot by the door to rejoin the others, Alex stepping in to regard the unwelcome visitor.

For a moment Alex just looks at him in that way he's come to find familiar – that unwilling eye contact, the way he never quite manages to focus on his face without some subtle reflexive wince.

"What are you doing here." It is a statement more than a question. Alex glances back at the others, but they don't seem to have noticed anything happening.

The visitor falters for words. "I thought... I..." A pause. "Alex, please-"

"You know they don't like you around."

He nods. He knows that. He's always known that, from that first meeting and the first glare of fearful hostility, but at the same time he can't bring himself to forget about them, knowing they were still out there, somewhere, the children he'd never had...

Perhaps it's the storm, or the hour of the night, but he sees Alex's resolve waning, and soon the door opens a little wider to let him in.

"There's a... you can stay in my room," Alex says. "Until the rain stops."

He mumbles his thanks, but Alex has looked away to shut the door and might not have heard, turning to lead the way.

The others quieten as they pass; he feels their eyes on him; he looks up, briefly, and sees the involuntary steps back. He manages a smile that is not returned, and then he is out of the reach of their collective gaze.

Alex motions him into the room.

He stands around, uncertainly, aware that he's making the floor wetter than it was a while ago.

"If you want to change out of that just..." Alex gestures in the direction of the closet. "Clothes are there. Help yourself."

He nods his gratitude. "Thanks."

Alex hesitates a while longer, then leaves the room and closes the door behind him, head bowed.

He can hear them, still, muted behind the wood of the door. Alex's shouts as he returns to the others: "Tommy, get off the table!" and the muffled sounds of continued conversation.

He finds a dry T-shirt and pants to replace his own, lingering for a moment on that curious feeling of having a stranger's clothes fit so perfectly. Wanders awkwardly around the room wondering where to dump or hang his own stuff, settling for the windowsill and hoping that nothing would rot.

Alex trusted him among his private things. That has to count for something, he thinks, settling down beside the door, ear pressed against it trying to make out voices, words...

At least he's actually here, just a room away, probably the closest he'd ever get in a long time. A spurt of frustrated anger rises temporarily in him – he has the right to be with them, among them, they wouldn't even be here if not for him... and the fact that they are out there having conversations he'd never hear, trading jokes and secrets he'd never be privy to sparks a sudden jealousy.

But no hard feelings against them can last for long, and he tries to rid himself of that feeling of possessiveness. They are adults, after all, individuals with their own separate lives. He has no right to control them in any way.

He hears approaching footsteps and moves away from the door, trying to look engrossed in the pattern of the wallpaper as his host enters the room with a cup and a plate of food.

"Thought you might be hungry," Alex says. He puts the cup and plate down on a table, glancing at the actor with quickly averted gaze.

"Thanks, Alex," he says, and then in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence with small talk: "Where's Kate?"

Wrong question, perhaps; he sees the flicker of fear in Alex's eyes, that unasked question of how much exactly he knew about him and his life, but the answer nonetheless comes. "She's visiting family."

"Does she know about this, uh, reunion?"

Alex nods.

"How many came?"

"Just a few. Jack, Conor, Johnny... Shane... Tommy and Jesse... Tod, Jjaks... Perry dropped by for a while earlier. Ted dragged Neo along... didn't look too happy about it. They left just before you came... Chris..." Alex trails off.

They are outside, he can hear them-

"I'm sorry," Alex says eventually. He doesn't need to specify what for. He gives a small smile, wry and sad and kind, his eyes not quite focussing. "I'm sorry."

And he would like to tell Alex that it's all right and that there's nothing to be sorry for, only that the pain is still there and can't be so easily denied.

And then Alex leaves him to let him eat and drink in peace, and he wonders who cooked the food; whether it was one of them, or if it was catered from elsewhere; and whose hand had dished it out for him – Alex's, or someone else who cared...

But then the rain stops, the rush of water down the windowpane slowing to a drop and then nothing, the midnight sky visible past the washed surface of the glass, the moonlight sparkling off the surface of the lake.

"Keep the clothes," Alex says – a last gesture of friendship, perhaps, some shred of comfort amongst the purposeful avoidance from the others, and he thinks he sees pity in some faces, but it is hard to tell when they do not meet his gaze.

And so he sets off alone into the woods, the ground still damp beneath his shoes; and he looks back at that small spot of light in the darkness and wonders if he'll ever get that close again.

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