Linc snagged his upper arm. “There are too many windows. Fuck, they’ve got us pinned down. Let’s go. Let’s go,” he muttered.
Wyatt allowed Linc to drag him deeper into the hallway, away from the sliding glass doors. A sheen of sweat coated Linc’s skin as he scanned his surroundings once again with glassy eyes. Wyatt could only try again. “Linc. It's me. It’s Wyatt. We’re at the penthouse. Do you remember? Can you hear me, baby? Please, can you hear me?”
Wyatt racked his brain trying to recall every word, every article, anything he’d read that could bring Linc back to him. There was so much information on Google, he couldn’t know what was true, so he stuck with the information that overlapped. Say his name. Orient him to where he was. Do it as many times as necessary. So that’s what he did. He reminded Linc over and over until his voice sounded hoarse and the words made little sense. Linc still had a death grip on Wyatt’s arm. It would definitely leave more bruises tomorrow, but Wyatt didn’t try to pull away. He gripped Linc’s wrist, startled to feel the rapid, uneven pulse beneath his fingers.
Suddenly Linc’s face crumpled, eyes wide with horror. “Oh, fuck. No. Is that… is that Robins? Oh, fuck. He’s… Jesus. No. He was…” Linc dropped suddenly, yanking Wyatt down with him. “Oh, fuck. Martinez was with Robins. Wherethe fuckis Martinez? Shit. Are they all dead?”
Linc wasn’t talking to him or even Keller, whoever that was. Linc was talking to himself, some kind of running monologue in his head. He was drenched with sweat now, his hands shaking as he pulled his knees to his chest, dropping his head into his hands. “What am I going to tell his father? Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Now free, Wyatt knelt before Linc, doing something the articles said never to do. He grabbed his head, forcing Linc to meet his gaze. “Linc. Please. It’s me. It’s Wyatt. We’re at the penthouse. Okay? Okay?” A sob escaped, but he bit down on his lip. He couldn’t afford to fall apart. This was about Linc, not him. He had to be strong for Linc. “Can you hear me? We’re at the penthouse. You’re okay. We’re okay. You’re here with me. Fuck. Come back to me. I’m right here. Just… just come back. Okay? I don’t want to do this shit without you. Okay?”
Wyatt wasn’t sure how long he sat there, repeating those words and phrases in various forms. It felt like hours, but it was probably only minutes. “Wyatt?” Linc’s voice was raw, steeped in confusion.
Wyatt smiled at him, gripping his face. “Hi. Hey, you’re okay. You just… I think you had a flashback. You’re safe.” Linc blinked the sweat and tears from his eyes, staring at a spot over Wyatt’s shoulder like he was waiting for his brain to come back online.
“Can, can I touch you?” Wyatt asked.
Linc gave a wobbly smile, gaze meeting his. “You are touching me.”
Wyatt dropped his hands. “The stuff I read online said you’re only supposed to touch somebody in crisis with their permission, but I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to… violate your space or whatever.”
Linc yanked Wyatt against him, hugging him tight like he was his own personal security blanket. “I’m sorry, baby,” Linc whispered against Wyatt’s hair. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.” Linc clearly didn’t believe him. He thrust Wyatt away from him to run his hands over Wyatt’s throat and arms, zeroing in on the red handprint on his bicep, his nostrils flaring. Wyatt shook his head. “I swear, I’m fine. It’s nowhere near the bruises I’ve begged for. You didn’t hurt me.”
“I could have. Jesus, Wyatt. I could have killed you.”
Wyatt shook his head, steeling himself for whatever came next. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have been playing that game. I knew the gunfire could trigger you, but you were snoring so loud and I had closed the bedroom door. I just didn’t think you might wake up and come looking for me. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Linc grunted, cradling Wyatt against him in an iron-like embrace. “This is on me.”
Wyatt couldn’t let Linc take the blame for this too. “No, I knew better. All the articles I read, the videos… everything said that things like loud noises and fireworks could cause an attack… I knew better and I did it anyway because I was selfish, and I was bored, and I knew I wasn’t allowed to jerk off.”
Linc snorted out a laugh as Wyatt’s cheeks turned pink. “Please. Stop.”
Wyatt snapped his mouth shut, waiting for Linc to say more, but he didn’t. Wyatt pressed his ear to Linc’s chest. His heart was still a drum, but no longer a frantic rhythm, just a dull, heavy throb.
“You read up on PTSD?” Linc finally asked, voice thick, his chest vibrating below Wyatt’s ear.
Wyatt flushed, grateful Linc couldn’t see his face. “Well, yeah. After the last time, I worried it might happen again, and I didn’t know how to help you. Sometimes you have nightmares and I wanted to make sure I knew what to do. I felt so stupid, especially since I turned it into a sex thing last time.”
Linc laughed low. “Lots of people turn their trauma into sex things. It’s just sort of the human condition. Besides, I was there too, you know. I could have stopped you. Probably should have, even. I don’t think the proper apology for attempted murder is mutual orgasms. I wanted what happened that night, minus almost killing you.” He pressed a lingering kiss to Wyatt’s temple.
It was a strangely intimate and entirely unfamiliar gesture, like something a boyfriend would do. It tightened something deep inside, intensifying that oozy feeling in his belly. His chaotic thoughts tumbled from his lips. “I did too… want it, I mean… even your hands on my neck, just you know, with you awake,” Wyatt finished lamely, at a loss for what came next.
“Yes, I definitely prefer to be awake enough to enjoy my hands on you,” Linc assured him. “Let’s go back to bed. I’m exhausted and you must be too after all this.”
Linc got them both on their feet in one graceful move. He threaded his fingers with Wyatt’s, drawing him back toward their room. The thought had Wyatt tripping over his feet. When had he started thinking of his room as their room? He shook the thought away before it could grow roots. None of it mattered.
He let Linc take charge, let him strip his shorts off and pull back his covers. Once he was on his side Linc slipped in behind him, wrapping his arms around him from behind. Wyatt closed his eyes, the tension finally leaving him. “Shouldn’t I be spooning you?” Wyatt asked, only half joking. “You’re the one who had a rough night.”
Linc was quiet for so long, Wyatt thought he wasn’t going to answer him. “I need to hold you. Holding you makes me feel safe. Like you still trust me to take care of things… of you.”
Wyatt’s heart felt like it exploded in his chest. He twisted, wiggling in Linc’s arms until they were nose to nose. Linc looked worn down. Wyatt’s breath caught in his chest as he cupped his cheek. “Don’t be stupid. Nobody takes better care of me than you do. Nobody but Charlie has ever even tried.” Wyatt kissed Linc. “Nothing you do will ever change that.”
Linc opened bleary eyes, feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. Without looking, he knew Wyatt wasn’t beside him. The bed felt empty. He sat up, noting the setting sun as his hand searched the side table blindly.
“If you’re looking for your phone, it's charging in your room,” Wyatt said. He sat in the chair in front of his lighted table, which was scattered with colorful tubes and bottles of makeup. Wyatt was covered in makeup too and watching Linc in the mirror’s reflection.
