I rushed into the bathroom and fished out some capsules. I was back by his side in an instant with the medication and a glass of water. He winced as he swallowed the pills and sipped the water. Laying back down, he covered his eyes with his arm, his lips twisted into a frown.
Biscuit rubbed against my legs, and I scooped him up. I sat him next to Danny who cuddled him close, the cat purring with pure happiness. I wished there was more I could do to ease his pain and soothe his nerves. He eventually relaxed against his fluffy pillows, his breath evening, his body loosening. I came around to the other side and got under the blankets with him.
Sleeping in bed with Danny was natural for me. As a boy, I’d sleep over at his house every weekend, and on the days my father got drunk and started putting holes in the wall, which was quite often. After a while, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for me to have a drawer in his dresser for my clothes. The action figures Mrs. B. had bought for me because I didn't have any of my own perched next to Danny’s toys, articulated in some fighting pose or another on his desk. When it no longer made sense to sleep on his bedroom floor, I’d crawled into his bed and never left.
And when we awoke, my arms around him as we snuggled, he hadn’t said anything about it, didn’t tell me it was weird and to stop. Mrs. B. hadn’t thought much of it, either. It had become commonplace for us to sleep together as if we were brothers. It was a nonissue, something normal between two best friends.
But I couldn’t deny there had been a certain thrill having his warm, solid form up against mine as my dick hardened. I hadn’t been like most boys my age but cuddling with my best friend with a hard-on had been my first intimate experience. Despite not getting off, it had fulfilled something inside of me, something sex with my ex-girlfriends couldn’t match. It made sense I craved that kind of connection with Danny right now.
I didn’t think twice about spooning him, his smaller body a perfect fit against mine. I pushed my nose into his hair, pulling into my lungs the subtle scent of peppermint. I wasn’t sure why I had the need to hold him, or what it might mean that this simple act made me happy—the kind of happy people talked about when they were getting married or expecting their first child. Perhaps, I was just relieved he was alive. The inability to understand my own emotions was part of the problem communicating with people.
I wasn’t sure I could go back to sleep, but as Danny snored softly, my eyelids pinched. Even in sleep, I was keenly aware of him against me. His scent, his warmth, the weight of his body. Everything he was, and thankfully continued to be, followed me into my dreams. The first light of morning had started to pierce the curtains when Danny stirred. I responded instantly, afraid he might be caught up in another nightmare.
“Danny?”
“I really have to use the bathroom,” he muttered.
His need shot adrenaline into my system and I jumped out of bed. In this moment, I existed only to help him get from point A to point B. I took his hand and let him set his own pace into the bathroom. He shuffled his feet and yawned, still dazed from sleep. When I had him in front of the toilet, I pressed one hand against the wall and the other on the countertop as I’d done before.
“No, ah…number two.”
“Okay,” I said and turned him around then steadied him.
He sat on the cold toilet without pulling his pants down and buried his face in his palms. His tone was ragged, soaked with tears. “I need more time to accept this is my life now.”
I scratched my stubbled neck, searching for the right thing to say and terrified of saying the wrong thing. “However long it takes, I’ll be here. Call for me when you’re done, and I’ll help you back to bed.”
I left him in the bathroom to do his business. I’d intended to say more, but I wanted to give him the dignity he seemed desperate for. I waited by the door for the signal he was done, my anger simmering in my gut. I understoodhisanger and suspected it had less to do with the side-effects of a traumatic brain injury, and more to do with the assault and inability to remember what had gone down andwhy. The fact that what happened to him was something I could never fix for him aggravated me to no end. I could do the physical things for him easy-peasy, but the emotional stuff was harder to fix.
The minutes ticked by, time making it seem like an hour. I heard the toilet flush and waited for the rush of the bathroom sink water. It cut off and when I heard nothing but silence, I knocked on the door. “Danny? Done pooping?”
“I can’t believe you’re so blasé about helping a grown man poop. But, yeah, I’m done,” he mumbled. He was standing in front of the sink, absolutely crushed, his head hanging off his shoulders as if what was going on in his head was too heavy to carry anymore, and his eyes were watery with unshed tears. “I want to take a bath. I know it’s early, but—can I take a bath?”
“Okay,” I said and got the water going. I adjusted the chair in the tub then held my hand out for him.
Slumping his shoulders, he bit his lip at the chair as if it were a piece of alien technology and he wasn't sure if it was the key to the universe or a planet-destroying weapon. Eventually, he pushed his joggers off his legs and took my hand as I helped him into the tub. I’d expected him to put up more of a fight about the chair, maybe blush about being naked in front of me. Something clenched inside of me, afraid he might be giving up. I’d rather have my Danny bitch and moan about using aides then say nothing at all.
“Do you remember in P.E when Mike Hanson had the runs while in the pool?” I asked, wanting to take Danny back to a better time when things were simpler and the most he had to worry about were bad grades and awkward social engagement.
“Oh, God,” he said with a sputter. “That’s the kind of thing that ruins your life. I’m surprised he survived high school.”
“He survived,” I said and adjusted the temperature of the water. I knew him well enough to know he liked it on the hotter side. “Still lives near Springfield.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen him around a few times.” I offered him the spray nozzle and rested my elbows on the tub’s lip. “He’s a paralegal now.”
He moved the hose over his body, the water sliding down his pale skin. I found it hard to look away and developed an unreasonable jealousy toward the hose. I’d always liked Danny’s body. It was softer than mine as if made to absorb the hardness of my bones and muscles, and when he blushed, it usually started at his neck and crawled up to his cheeks. Even hunched over on himself, with that garish, bright pink scar, he was nice to look at. He stopped what he was doing to frown, the water beading on his shoulders. I wanted to lean in and lick the drops of water off his skin.
“Wait, did he come into the strip club?”
“Yes, but not for the reason you’re thinking. He said he was doing research about eminent domain and had some questions for the owner regarding the property. He recognized me and we got to talking, told me all about his wife and new baby girl.”
Danny lost his smile and watched the water pool around his toes. Even his feet were nice to look at. “He was voted most likely to commit suicide. It still pisses me off that jerk Aaron Barclay thought it was a good idea to make up a class voting list and pass it around.”
“I took care of that,” I said and offered him a sudsy loofah. “Made sure something like that list wouldn’t happen again as long as I was there.”
“I know you did. You're the only reason I wasn’t on that list because Aaron knew if he fucked with me, you’d come after him. High school was safer for nerds like me with you around.” He eyed me with suspicion. “You never did tell me what you did.”
