“That’s not who you see when you look in the mirror, is it?” Donny asked.
Roland shook his head, extending his hand so he could return the book to Donny.
“Roland.” Donny took a step closer and twined his fingers into Roland’s hair. Roland closed his eyes and sighed. Donny lifted onto his tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss to Roland’s mouth. “That’s who I see. That’s who I deserve, Roland.” Donny kissed him one more time and lowered himself back to the ground.
Roland opened his mouth and no sound came out. He bit his lips between his teeth and scratched at his beard.
Donny gestured to the mess behind them. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Roland, but whatever it is, you gotta fix it. Not for me, but for you.” He tucked himself back into his pants and smoothed his hair with shaking hands.
Donny walked out of the studio and found Pete asleep in the living room. He scooped him up gently and tucked him away in the cat carrier.
“He’s not hurt, is he?” Roland was so close to him, Donny could feel Roland’s body heat against his back. Donny shook his head and turned, leaning his back against the kitchen counter so he could look up and see Roland’s face.
Roland tried to hand Donny back his sketchbook, but Donny refused to take it, instead picking up Pete and walking to the door.
“You keep it, Roland. When you see the man I see, call me.”
Chapter 10
Roland Gives Donny More
Roland stared at his phone,turning it over and over in his hand. His palms were sweaty and the smooth plastic of the case was making it hard to hold on to. He set it on the couch next to his thigh and covered the screen with his hand. It had been three days since Donny had taken Pete and left. Three days since Roland had been in the studio. Two days since Roland had a drink of vodka, and seventeen minutes since he’d last looked at Donny’s sketchbook.
The man in that book was definitely not him. Roland had stood in front of the mirror and stared at himself, then the drawing, then himself again for an entire bottle of vodka and still couldn’t see it. Not before the cap came off, and not by the time he’d taken the last drink.
Roland felt more alone the last three days than he could remember being before. He wasn’t certain whether he was missing the emotions that filtered through him when Donny was around, or if he was just missing Donny’s cock, but he was missingsomething. He wasn’t inspired, he wasn’t drinking, he wasn’t happy. He was just alone. Existing. Barely.
He knew what needed to be done. It was time to go.
* * *
The only thingRoland hated more thanjustexisting was waiting. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, his palms still sweaty.
“Mr. Wilson?”
Roland looked up. There was a nurse sticking half of her body out a cracked open door in the corner. She had his chart in her hand and a sympathetic smile on her face. Roland also hated sympathy.
“The doctor will see you now, come on back.” She tilted her head toward the hallway behind her and pushed the door open wider. He stood and wiped his palms down the front of his jeans and followed her.
“How are you doing today, Mr. Wilson?” she asked, pointing at a chair. He sat down and she closed a blood pressure cuff around his bicep and pushed a button. The cuff inflated, and Roland reflected on the last time he’d been to this office. The old nurse had used the stethoscope and had to pump the cuff manually to check his blood pressure.
The cuff deflated and the machine beeped. “Obviously not super great, thanks,” he bit out through clenched teeth. She just smiled at him and wrote his blood pressure on a piece of paper then flipped his chart closed.
“Dr. Constantin will be in to see you shortly.”
Roland nodded, and the nurse left. He heard her drop his chart in the plastic slot outside the door before her footsteps retreated down the hall. The door to the exam room re-opened almost immediately, and his doctor entered, flipping Roland’s chart open.
“It’s been awhile, Mr. Wilson,” he said, taking a seat in the chair across from Roland.
“A year,” he supplied.
“A little over, but it doesn’t matter. What can I do for you today?” Dr. Constantin flipped Roland’s chart closed and set it aside.
Roland blinked at the doctor and opened his mouth, closed it, closed his eyes, opened his mouth again, closed it, opened his eyes. Dr. Constantin was looking at him with a soft look that toed the sympathy line without crossing it, and Roland appreciated that.
“I need help,” he finally managed to whisper.
“What can I help you with, Roland?”
