Chapter 23
I hate that he’s here. He shouldn’t be here. This is wrong. I hate that I like having him here. I’m not good for him. I want him to stay. I hate that I want him to stay. I shouldn’t want this. It’s so wrong for him. I’m so wrong for him.
The thoughts revolved in Harrison’s head as he watched Jeremy sleep, his breathing slow and deep as he rested peacefully. Every feature was relaxed, his lips parted slightly.How do you do that? Why can’t I? I hate that you get to sleep and I don’t, but I don’t want you to wake up because you need your rest.
Harrison had given up trying to sleep hours ago. The dreams came on too quickly and they hurt too much. Sitting up in the bed, he rubbed at gritty eyes with the heels of his hands. Every bone in his body ached and his head hurt from thinking too much. He could take a couple of pain killers, but the thought of swallowing pills made him want to vomit.This is for the best, Harry.
Pushing back the covers, he got up and dragged his feet into the living room. He turned on the television, but muted the sound. It was three in the morning. Home shopping. He curled up on the couch and stared at the screen, hoping the bright colours would distract his brain.Normal people are asleep at this time of night. Normal people don’t disappear inside their own heads for weeks at a time. You were never normal, your blood is cursed by madness. Don’t try to be poetic, fancy words can’t make you less of a mistake.
Jeremy’s voice came to him then, interrupting the litany in his head.The words and the art combined can change a life.He thought of the poem he usually kept on his wall. He’d done the lettering when he was sixteen. He could remember how proud he’d been when Laurel called it ‘a true work of art.’She didn’t mean it, she was being paid to humour you.When he was healthy, he read the poem first thing every morning, to remind himself of the choice he’d made so long ago—to live, to fight.And yet the menace of the years, finds and shall find me unafraid.
Except he was afraid. Not the kind of afraid that made him scream or quake with terror. It was the kind that made him want to hide, like a coward, under the covers with his hands over his ears.What if I don’t make it? What if this is the time the darkness never lifts? What if I’m trapped here forever? What if everyone gives up on me?
They should give up on you. No one should have to deal with this. It’s too fucked up. You’re too fucked up. Jeff and Celeste only took you in because they had to. You’re a blood relative, what other choice did they have? Jeremy isn’t here because he loves you. He feels sorry for you because you’re such a pathetic mess. How could anyone love a man who can’t laugh without crying? What the fuck has that kid got to be so happy about anyway? This is for the best, Harry. I love you, Harry. This is for the best—
A hand landed on his shoulder and he recoiled, gasping.
“Hey, it’s just me.” Jeremy sat down beside him, wearing only a pair of pyjama pants, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. “Mind if I join you?”
Harrison shook his head. He didn’t resist when Jeremy took his hand, threading their fingers together. Jeremy kissed the back of his hand before lowering it to his lap. “Home shopping,” he murmured as he lay his head on Harrison’s shoulder. “Youaredesperate.”
They watched together. Jeremy made jokes about the products being sold, occasionally he ad-libbed dialogue to go with the muted pictures. Within half an hour he was wondering out loud if maybe he did need a ladder that transformed into thirty different types of ladder. It could be handy in the store. The natural cadence of his voice was soothing. It quieted the voices in Harrison’s head, helping him to relax.
The next product was being sold when Harrison’s eyelids grew heavy. He’d stretched out on his back on the couch by then, a cushion under his head. Jeremy had laid down on top of him. The couch was almost long enough to accommodate them lying down—almost was good enough. He let his fingers wander the length of Jeremy’s bare back, a soft touch that followed every curve and valley. Every so often, he’d travel all the way up to the nape of Jeremy’s neck where he’d discovered a sensitive spot that made the other man shiver. He liked it when Jeremy shivered.
“You can push me off if I’m too heavy,” Jeremy said after they’d been like that for a long time, though he didn’t bother raising his head from Harrison’s chest as he said it.
Moving his head from side to side, Harrison spoke for the first time since Jeremy joined him. “I like the weight.”
With a contented sigh, Jeremy pressed a kiss to Harrison chest. “I like the sound of your heartbeat.”
Harrison tightened his arms around Jeremy’s body, wrapped his legs around the back of Jeremy’s calves until they were as close as physically possible. When sleep pulled him under, he went with it. He slept until long after the sun had risen. And he didn’t dream.
An alarm went off on Harrison’s mobile phone three times a day, a single word appearing on the screen: EAT.
The first time Harrison dragged himself out of bed in response, Jeremy didn’t notice. He was lying on the couch at the time, deep in the climax of his novel, and he didn’t come out of his book coma until the smell of fried rice reached his nose.
Making his way into the kitchen, he found Harrison had pulled two pre-prepared meals from the freezer and was nearly done reheating them in the microwave. “You know,” Jeremy teased as Harrison handed him a steaming plate of food, “Icantake care of myself.”
Harrison didn’t pretend to smile at his joke. “I’m counting on it.”
They sat down to eat, although in Harrison’s case there was less chewing involved and more pushing the food around on the plate.
“This is delicious,” Jeremy told him after a few bites. “How many of these meals do you have stashed away?”
“About two weeks’ worth. I keep the freezer stocked for times when I don’t have the energy to cook.”
Jeremy cringed. “They’ll only last one week if you keep feeding the local moocher.” He kept his gaze on Harrison, wondering if he’d object to the idea of him continuing to hang around. Harrison didn’t show any sign of reacting at all. “How about I cook dinner tonight?” he suggested. “Then, I won’t feel bad about scoffing one of your lunches.”
There was a long silence as a war waged in Harrison’s eyes over whether or not to accept. Jeremy was sorry he’d done something to add to the other man’s stress. He hadn’t thought the idea of him cooking a meal would be a big deal, apparently he was wrong.
“I’d like to cook,” Jeremy assured him. “Even if I’m not great at it. It’s something I enjoy.”
Finally, Harrison gave a short nod. “All right.” The deep breath he took seemed to ease some of the tension in his shoulders before he added, “You are a good cook.”
Jeremy gave him a smile. “Thank you for saying so.”
By the time the alarm went off again at dusk, Jeremy knew what it meant. “Why do you have a food alarm?” he asked as they sat down to the stir fry he’d thrown together. “Is there a possibility of you starving to death by accident?”
