Page 47 of Epidermis

Konrad had come into his life and put color in his darkness. It was less saturated in his absence, but Jasper could still feel it, heavy as hoof beats and soft as feathers.

It became something of a ritual. Konrad called, they either talked or they didn’t, and then Jasper would read to him. Sometimes Konrad listened in silence, sometimes Jasper would hear the sound of him washing dishes or ironing his clothes. They had fallen into a routine of just coexisting on the phone every night. Jasper had even started to partake in the simple pleasure of complaining about work.

“Tattooing long, continuous lines is the bane of my existence,” Jasper explained on Saturday night, the last night they’d be talking before he saw Konrad in person again. He could have walked down to the restaurant any time he liked, but their phone calls felt like something that existed outside of them and the wounds Jasper had left. So there he was, with his bare feet on the ottoman, the phone on speaker as he painted his toenails. “They’re so easy to fuck up.”

“And did you fuck it up?”

Jasper laughed; it would never stop being funny to hear Konrad cuss. “No.”

“That’s my boy.”

He tugged his lip between his teeth to keep from grinning, and still failed. He continued for awhile in silence, until he was capping the black polish he’d borrowed from Hiyori—though not without some gentle needling from her, about him “wanting to get pretty for his man.”

Siouxsie clamored back up onto the couch at Jasper’s side; she’d been there earlier, until the smell of nail polish had offended her and she went to sit in the armchair with the expression of a disappointed parent. She laid her head on Jasper’s thigh and Jasper scratched behind her ears. “Have you ever had pets?” he asked Konrad, looking over at his phone on the side table.

“I have not. Anna had a cat, I was very fond of it.”

“Mm. I like cats too. Dogs are just my favorite. Big fan of lizards and snakes. I don’t have the stomach for live feeding, though.”

“Of course you don’t,” Konrad said with a smile in his voice.

Gomez came to curl up beside Siouxsie on the couch, and Jasper reached over to pet him. “Do you ever want pets?”

“Perhaps not my own, but I think I would make a passable stepfather if they were part of a package deal with my partner.”

Jasper sputtered, his face red. “I didn’t… that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t talking about my pets.”

“Nor did I suggest that you were.”

Jasper glared at the phone; he knew exactly where Konrad had been going with the stepfather thing. The man could turn mundane conversation into poetry, but he wasn’t half as subtle as he thought he was. He thought of Emily, and of Konrad’s steadying hands on her shoulders. All jokes aside, Konrad really did seem like he thrived in a fathering role, despite how aloof he seemed. Jasper wondered if he had assumed that role for his sister. Rich parents sometimes entailed absent parents. He imagined Konrad looking after his baby sister, and the thought stirred something warm and fond in him.

“What are we having for dinner tomorrow?” Jasper asked, curling up against the arm of the couch.

“I was considering coq au vin. A hearty French stew of wine-braised chicken, lardons, and mushrooms. I like to prepare mine with pearl onions and fresh herbs. I first learned to make coq au vin as a young man, when I spent a semester abroad in Paris.”

“That sounds good.” Jasper rested his head against the back of the couch. “Dad used to make Crawfish Étouffée. We didn’t always have crawfish so he would just make it with whatever fish he’d caught that day, or sometimes he’d get Andouille sausage when we had the money.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“No. But I miss it now that he’s not around to make it anymore.”

“Perhaps I could prepare it for you sometime, with your supervision. I have some experience with Creole dishes, but I would feel more comfortable with your input.”

Jasper’s lips pulled up to one side. “My dad is the one from Louisiana, I was born in Georgia. I think you just want me to cook with you.”

“I do.”

There was that easy honesty that always threw him off. This time, it was infused with something dangerously close to excitement, a rare flavor for Konrad’s words. Jasper gazed down at his phone. “Okay. How about tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

He said it so fast. Jasper propped his chin in his hand, pressing his grin into his knuckles. “Okay.”

Jasper kept having to remind himself that he wasn’t getting dressed for a date. They were not dating. At this point, they were mildly flirtatious friends with unaddressed issues courtesy of Jasper. He put on his black skinny jeans, pulled his boots over them, and wore a black button-down. Hiyori had redone his nails when he gave her the polish back, so they were glossy and trimmed, their shine miraculously not dulled by him running one back and forth across his lower lip so many times throughout the day. He liked how they felt when they were all smooth from being freshly painted.

He put on eyeliner, then decided it looked like he was trying too hard and wiped it off. It still left a slight smudge of black around his eyes that he didn’t feel like fighting to remove. Fine. Whatever. He let the dogs out one last time, gave them more food and water, and shrugged into his favorite cardigan on his way out the door. It was the long one that reached the back of his knees, the sleeves falling halfway down his hands. It was a comfort item. He was dressed up as someone with confidence, but in reality, his nerves were fucking shot.

Music drowned out his thoughts on the hour’s drive to Konrad’s. The Sisters of Mercy’s “Lucretia My Reflection” was blasting when he pulled up in front of the massive house. Jasper blew out a breath as he trudged up the wide stairs to the door, his boots thudding loudly on the white stone. He stopped in front of the double doors and pushed his glasses up before he knocked.