The two men reunited when it was finally time for supper. On their way to the kitchen, Zac caught his friend's shoulder to still him and speak quietly. 'Sorry I left you to the wolves, for a moment.'
Mac smiled and plucked a sparkly feather out of Zac's hair. 'I could say the same to you.'
Laughing, the two joined the rest of the group in the kitchen, taking their seats at the already prepared table. It was then that Mac fully processed how small the Higgins' home was, compared to the family that had lived within it. If the extra folding chairs weren’t enough of an indicator, the diagonal placement of the long table in the already cramped room certainly was.
Each couple sat together, three of which with antsy children in their laps or at their sides. Mac sat next to Zac, and, finally, the matriarch of the family sat at the head of the table. Once she was seated, as if on cue, every member of the Higgins family bowed their heads and closed their eyes. Though he was not quite sure what was going on, Mac did the same. Only a moment later, Mrs Higgins's voice cut through the silence. 'Dear God in heaven, or whoever might be out there listening, bless this meal, this family, this house, and, last but absolutely not least, the man responsible for saving it,' she said with a smile. 'Amen.'
A smattering of 'amen's were issued before everyone began to dig into the home-cooked meal. Mac blushed profusely, not quite sure what to say in return. With a smirk, Zac nudged his friend’s shoulder before handing him the potatoes. 'Dig in. You deserve it, mate.'
~*~*~
AS the clock struck eight, the three older siblings, their wives, and progeny had all left, citing early bedtimes and school the following morning. As Zelda, her mother, and husband cleaned up in the kitchen, Zac brought Mac another beer, sitting beside him on the sofa.
Mac smiled, giving a silent cheers before taking a sip and looking towards the sounds of laughter coming from the kitchen. 'Your family is really very wonderful.'
A bemused look came over Zac’s face as he too faced the kitchen. 'I definitely can't complain. They have their quirks, but all in all, they’re pretty all right.'
'More than that. I can't help but think that, if I had grown up this way, maybe things would be different. Maybe I would be.'
Frowning, Zac turned to his friend, the conversation from before they had entered playing anew in his mind. 'Mac, you are a good man. Please tell me you know that.'
'No, you're a good man. You provide for your family, look out for them, sacrifice for them. This home is still here because of you.'
'You made it happen!'
He laughed, hollowly. 'I did nothing and you know it. I don't deserve this; not this dinner, not your mother's prayer, not any of it. For what, giving you a raise? I only gave you that raise for the selfish reason of making sure you didn't share your talents with another company.'
'You gave me that raise so that you could focus more on your personal life. So that you could be a better person!'
'Because I was incapable of doing it myself, you mean.'
'Augustus.'
The name seemed to shock him out of his thoughts, finally meeting Zac's eyes. Zac spoke softly and scooted closer, trying not to draw the others’ attention to their conversation. 'No, you didn't know what you were doing when you gave me those raises. You had no idea how much you were helping. But, the second I told you, you were upset that you hadn't helped more. If that doesn't make you a good person, then I don't know what does.'
'I want to believe you--‘
'Then, believe me--!'
'Mum would say “actions speak louder than words”. What have my actions shown me to be except a spoiled rich boy with no regard for anyone but--'
'Stop! Please--' He closed the gap between, trying desperately to catch his eyes. 'You. Are. A good. Man. Please, tell me you know that!'
~*~*~
MAC sat closely to Zac, looking anywhere but his friend's face as he gathered his thoughts. The close proximity and their conversation was doing funny things to his heart rate. He wished he was a good man. Desperately. If for no other reason than to prove to his friend that he could be.
His friend. His most loyal and devoted friend. This man who had selflessly donated the largest portion of his income to the home in which they now sat. The man who insisted that he saw good in him, even when he couldn’t see it in himself. The man who had changed him from the business robot of Engineering Global to being worthy of a Sunday roast dinner. The man he could not currently look in the eye.
As Mac’s gaze searched for purchase, it fell onto the other man’s collarbone. He noticed a small piece of lint on Zac's shoulder, just below his neckline. Without much forethought, he reached forward, gingerly picking it from where it lay. But, after the lint was gone, Mac didn’t remove his hand.
He simply stared for a long time at the fingers just inches from his employee’s neck. There was something so welcoming about the warmth beneath the knitted wool of the jumper. Something so familiar, and yet alien, about the man with whom he'd shared so much, and so little. What was it that continued to draw him to the one man he shouldn't have? And who, surely, would never have him? No matter how good a man he became, would it ever be enough to be worthy of his best friend?
~*~*~
THE light touch of Mac’s fingers on his collarbone sent sparks throughout Zac's frame, causing his breath to hitch. All thought seemed to stop when, after the lint was gone, Mac didn't remove his hand. Instead, his knuckles sat softly on the fabric covering his chest.
Zac wanted so badly to reach up, to take the hand of the man who was so clearly hurting. The man who he'd wanted to comfort ever since the day he'd lost his mother. But, something was stopping him, the words he'd so wished to forget replaying in his mind; I'm not. Interested, that is. No offense.
But even if he wasn’t interested, that hasn't stopped the casual touches, intimate conversations, the bond that seemed to grow daily. Was it truly just friendship? Could it ever be more? Why couldn’t it ever be more? No offense.
It was as if time itself stood still, neither man breathing more than just enough to keep their hearts beating as the moment remained suspended between “impossible” and “if only”.
Finally, Zac couldn't help himself any longer. As if trying not to spook a deer, he slowly raised his hand to meet Mac's. But the second the other man’s hand came into his line of sight, the houseguest seemed to immediately come to his senses. With a sharp sniff, Mac withdrew his hand, quickly busying himself with his beer. 'Sorry. Just, got lost for a minute.'
Zac felt a small crack somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. 'Mac--'
It was then that Zelda displayed the perfect timing she was so famous for, entering the room with a tray full of pudding. 'All right, boys, who's ready for the best part?’
Before Zac could answer, Mac stood from his spot on the sofa, straightening his coat. 'I should probably be off about now, actually. The car is surely here by now.' Mrs Higgins entered just in time for him to smile at her, politely. 'Thank you for having me and for the meal. All of you.'
'It's the least we could do for you, love. After all you've done for us.' Walking over to Mac, she pulled him in for a tight and meaningful hug. 'Thank you,' she said so quietly that Zac barely caught the words.
Mac hugged back lightly. 'Happy to help, Mrs Higgins.'
Once he was released from the hug, Zelda’s husband offered a handshake and she pressed a kiss to his cheek before Zac finally walked him to the door. 'Can I walk you out?'
‘No need. The car is just there. But thank you for the offer.'
'Thank you for coming tonight. Honestly,' he said, resting his hand on the handle. 'I know that maybe it wasn't the most normal thing, but it meant a lot to everyone. I... It meant a lot to me.'
'It was my pleasure,' Mac said with a smile. 'Honestly.'
Then, with a few more parting words and the promise to see each other at work the next morning, Mac was off. As Zac watched Mac enter the waiting car from the front window, his mother came up to stand at his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. 'He's a good man, your Mac.'
'He's not “my Mac”, mum.'
She said nothing in return, simply holding her son closely, knowing all the same.
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