Warning: Very tame m/m content. Comments are always welcome. Dsrvbf@aol.com
Ben found Ray at his workbench in the basement cursing at a porcelain figurine. He was trying to glue together several broken fragments from it without success, and with each attempt he became more and more agitated. Ray didn't hear his approach, so he cleared his throat, so as not to startle him at his delicate work.
"Francesca told me I'd find you down here. I hope I'm not intruding."
Without turning around, "No. I'm glad you're here. You have more patience than me - boy is that an understatement - maybe you can fix... Damn this thing!" In anger the figurine was cast aside.
With a resigned air, he let out a frustrated sigh and finally turned to face his visitor. Motioning behind him towards the fractured figurine on the table.
"It was her favorite. My grandmother gave it to her when she turned 16. Ma knocked it over last week and I've been meaning to fix it ever since. But I can't even do that right!"
The eyes that looked at him now, were full of self-reproach at not being able to do this small task for his mother. Fraser knew that 'last week' meant the day Mrs Vecchio collapsed of a heart-attack in the living room upstairs. Fraser had noticed the broken table that night they came back here from the hospital. He remembered from past visits to the Vecchio's that the figurine had originally been placed there.
This was the first time since the tragic incident that he was actually able to talk with Ray alone. Up until now, Ray had been a dynamo, as he arranged the funeral; played host to family and friends; and handled the legal issues as executor of his mother's will. He'd been a pillar of strength for them all. So busy being there for others, that he hadn't allowed himself the luxury of letting others be there for him. Standing still now, Fraser could see the toll Ray's non-stop energy had robbed from him. He looked almost beyond the point of exhaustion. There were dark circles around his eyes and if it were possible he looked even thinner than usual.
"Ray, please let me help you. I've told you, you don't have to do everything yourself. I'm here. We'll do this together."
He placed a hand briefly on his friend's arm, then went to the workbench and started to pick up the porcelain pieces there. As Ben began piecing the doll back together, he heard a sad whisper from Ray. "I could have saved her."
For a puzzled second he thought Ray meant the doll, then realized he was talking about his mother.
"Ray, it wasn't your fault she had a heart-attack. I know you did what you could to revive her."
Again he placed a comforting hand on his friend's arm. Ray briefly closed his eyes, as he steeled himself for his next words.
"I should have been there sooner. If I had gotten there sooner she'd probably still be alive. But no, I had to waste time arguing with Frannie over some pointless thing or another. Ma hated it when we fought. Always said no good would come of it. Guess she was right. If I hadn't been fighting, I probably would have heard her sooner."
Ben moved closer to his friend and placed an arm around his shoulders. "Ray, it was her time. I know she loved you very much and would be saddened to hear you blaming yourself for her death. Don't do this to yourself."
Ray's grief finally caught up with him and before Fraser realized it, his friend was clinging to him as he cried for the first time over his mother's death. Fraser felt awkward at first, but then found himself placing his arms around his friend and rubbing his back. He heard himself softly soothing repetitively, "Its alright, Ray. Shhh."
Ben hadn't meant for it to happen, but found himself unable to stop himself.
Ray smelled so good; the scent of him so close was intoxicating. He had only wanted to comfort his grieving friend, but it went further than he expected.
Ray felt so good; enclosed in his arms, as he finally released control of pent up tears. He had come every day this week to offer his support and sympathy since the death of Mrs. Vecchio, but today marked a change.
Ray tasted so good; as the sensation of salty tears on his lips touched his tongue. He had wanted so badly to take away Ray's pain, that what had started as a comforting touch
on the arm turned into an arm around his shoulder; then an embrace; and somehow ended up without his conscious volition turning into a kiss.
At the touch of his lips on his friend's cheek, he could feel Ray shift suddenly and pull slightly away from him. But instead of anger or reproach, he saw instead a startled and questioning look. Before he could excuse his behavior, and begin to repair the damage he thought he'd done to their friendship, he felt soft lips against his, returning the kiss. THE END