“It’ll be fine. I’m gonna pack a bag and head to the airport right now,” Landon told him.
“You’re gonnawhat?” Gregory asked, finally standing.
“Jack’s at Mount Sinai. He doesn’t have anybody. He’s always listed me as his contact for emergencies.” Landon pulled away from Verity, pushed past Gregory without a second glance and started pulling clothes out of the dresser and tossing them onto the bed.
“His appendix ruptured,” Verity explained. “The hospital said he had septicemia. It’s bad. He’s in surgery.” They held the back of their hand to their mouth to muffle a cry.
“He ignored it because he is a stubborn piece of shit, and they don’t know if he’s gonna make it,” Landon finished, shoving clothes into a backpack.
“Let me come with you,” Gregory suggested, extending a hand toward Landon.
He swatted it away and brushed by Gregory toward the door. “I don’t want to look at you right now, let alone be stuck on a plane with you for six hours.”
“Landon,” Verity placated.
“Not now. I’ll text you my flight info from the airport and let you know when I land.” Landon wrapped his arms around Verity and squeezed him tightly.
“Landon,” Gregory protested.
“Not now,” he bit out, not looking back, and then he was gone.
The sound of the front door slamming closed ricocheted up the stairs.
Verity buried their face against Aaron’s chest and whimpered quietly. Aaron searched out Gregory’s eyes and offered him a subtle yet apologetic shrug before shifting his focus solely to Verity. Aaron whispered into their ear and stroked his hands across their skin in a familiar way that felt like a sucker punch to Gregory’s gut.
Gregory was bereft, standing in a room that wasn’t his, thrown into a situation he didn’t know how to deal with. His instincts had always been to care for and protect, and he wasn’t able to do either. Landon didn’t want what he had to offer, and he knew he had no place in whatever was going on with Verity and Aaron.
Looking around the room with a heavy heart, Gregory ran his hands down the front of his shirt and sidestepped past Verity into the hallway. Solemnly, he found his way down the stairs and out of the house without a parting word. The door closed behind him with a deafening sound, and Gregory forced his feet to carry him to his car.
At home, he found the collar in question lying on his porch and he picked it up, rubbing the cheap and grainy leather between his fingers while he unlocked the door. He carried it into the kitchen and dangled it over the trash can. The leather slipped through his fingers, but he caught it before he lost his grip.
Even after all this time, and this fight, he couldn’t let go of this stupid fucking fantasy his eighteen year-old self had clung to so tightly for so many years. Gregory sat the collar on the counter and smoothed it out, then folded it back in his fist and took it to his room, shoving it back into his sock drawer.
Gregory felt around for the velvet box he’d tried to forget about, picking it up with two fingers and flipping it open. This ring had always represented a fantasy different than the collar, a kind of happily ever after that he’d hoped to weave in between the games of dominance and submission he and Landon had played.
The ring was a simple gold band, thin and shiny. It had been on sale, but still had taken months of saving on Gregory’s part. At the time, it had been worth it, though. He pulled the ring from its velvet setting and slid it halfway down his ring finger. It would have fit Landon then, but probably not now. They were both so much older now…
An insistent knocking at his front door drew his attention back to the present and he shoved the ring in his pocket and made his way to the front of his house. He pulled open the door and found Aaron on his porch, hair disheveled.
Gregory raised an eyebrow and stepped back, letting his friend inside.
“So,” he said, walking through his house to the back door. He pushed it open and dropped onto one of his patio chairs.
Aaron followed, getting beers from the fridge and passing one to Gregory before taking a seat.
“He’s an emotional one, isn’t he?” Aaron asked with a small huff.
“He thinks with his heart,” Gregory amended.
“That seems like a lot of work.”
“Are you trying to tell me he’s not worth it?” Gregory cast a sharp glare at Aaron.
“Not at all.” Aaron held up his hands in surrender. “Just making an observation.”
“He is high maintenance,” Gregory conceded, “but I don’t mind maintaining him.”
“You love the work,” Aaron mused.
