“I was happy,” Jag choked out between sobs. “I had friends. And a future. And they took me away from it all, and theybrokeme.”
“You’re not broken,” Michael whispered, trying to push back the tide of his own tears. He couldn’t. They spilled down his cheeks. His chest shuddered, and his heart broke for the young man in his arms.
“Iam,” Jag bit out. “Dr Miller spent months digging into my head and my past, pulling things out they could use against me. He made me hate myself. He made me feel utterly worthless.”
“I’m sorry.” Michael didn’t know what else to say.
“You know the worst part?”
Michael shook his head.
“When I ran away, I almost proved themright.”
Michael stared at him, not understanding.
“By letting guys use me for sex in exchange for a place to stay,” Jag clarified as fresh tears welled up in his eyes. “It waswrong,and I hated it. I was afraid I’d never be able to like being intimate with a guy because of what Dr Miller had done.” He heaved out a ragged sigh. “I wanted sex with guys to feelright. Toberight. I knew I had towantit and enjoy it if I was ever going to recover from what they’d done to me.” His stare became vacant. “I thought I’d managed that with Ian, and then he betrayed me. After that, sex became about control and orgasms but not emotion.” His eyes cleared, and the smallest smile tugged his lips up. “Until I met you.”
A lump formed in Michael’s throat. He hadn’t realised the impact he’d had on Jag’s life, until that moment. It was overwhelming, in a good way. He cleared his throat. “What Dr Miller did to you… it was conversion therapy, wasn’t it?”
Jag nodded.
Michael hated that it wasn’t illegal. He knew it was frowned upon and had been proven not to work. He knew the government had recently pledged to make it illegal, but somehow it hadn’t been rushed through the process. It was waiting its turn in a long queue of policies and amendments, and in the meantime, people like Jag were being subjected to it.
“I’m tired,” Jag said, his voice weak and distant.
“Of course. It’s late, and you must be exhausted.” Michael believed that, but he also guessed that Jag didn’t want to talk anymore and sleep was an easy way out. “You take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Jag looked at him, his eyebrows tugging down. “Why?”
“I—” Michael wasn’t sure why.
“I want to be close to you,” Jag said. He cracked a small smile. “Fuck, that sounds needy.”
Michael nuzzled his jaw. “I like needy.”
“You do, huh? I’ll remember that.” He cupped Michael’s cheek in his hand. “I know I haven’t made everything better between us. But please sleep with me tonight?”
Michael wasn’t going to refuse. If all he could do to help was hold Jag as he slept, he’d do it. They went through to the bedroom together, stripped down to their underpants, and slipped beneath the quilt. Michael wrapped his arms around Jag, who looped his leg over Michael’s. They snuggled close. Michael lay with his eyes open, listening as Jag’s breathing became slow and soft. He felt the young man relax completely as he fell asleep, and was glad he’d been able to offer him comfort.
His anger hadn’t subsided. None of it was directed at Jag. Right now, he could forgive Jag everything. It was Jag’s parents he was fuming at. Weren’t parents supposed to protect their kids? Not judge them and throw them into harmful ‘therapy’? It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who they were, or what Jag’s real name was because he was sure he’d do something they’d all regret.
He closed his eyes, knowing he needed to sleep, too. He could only imagine how raw Jag would feel in the morning when he woke up and remembered all he’d said. That he’d broken yet another one of his rules. Michael was determined to be there for him, in whatever way he could.
23Jag
Jag woke in Michael’s arms. He’d slept soundly, but he was still exhausted. Surprisingly, he didn’t regret letting any of the things he’d told Michael out. If anything, it was a relief to have finally shared it with someone. He’d thought it would have been harder than it had been, but deep down, he’d needed to get it out, and Michael had given him the space to talk at his own pace. He gazed at Michael, his heart swelling with love until it felt as if it might burst out of his chest. It was intermingled with sadness because he knew nothing was fixed. He’d still acted like a selfish jerk towards Michael and deserved to be cast aside. Even if he wasn’t, he hadn’t had the courage to even try to dissuade his parents from continuing to look for him. And he was still broken; he probably always would be.
He stroked Michael’s chest, wanting to savour every second he had with the man because they would be precious and few. He wouldn’t blame Michael if he woke up and threw him out of the flat and out of a job. It was what he deserved. Yet he was in Michael’s bed and in his arms, which had to count for something. Unless…did Michael feel sorry for him?
He held his breath as Michael’s eyes flickered open. He greeted Jag with a sleepy grunt.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jag said quietly, almost guiltily.
Michael rubbed Jag’s shoulder. “It’s okay. What time is it?”
Jag shrugged, so Michael fumbled for his alarm clock, his forehead creasing when he saw the time.
“Just gone eight. It’s still early.”
