Sila had made it sound like it was a no brainer when he’d tossed the word masochism around, but for Bay that had been another shocking discovery. Yes, he’d caused himself a bit of minor harm during his private play—shoving in a dildo when unprepared to see if he could take it, digging his own nails into the flesh of his thighs or palm, stuff like that—but he’d been careful to never take thingstoofar.
Considering the amount of sun cream Sila had used on him, he would guess he’d been pretty beat up down there.
Only…He remembered the pain, of course, but it hadn’t been all that bad. Excruciating for a blip of time and then gone in a flash, swept away by the most intense pleasure Bay had ever experienced in his entire life. Not only had he felt alive when he’d been pinned beneath Sila’s hard body, he’d actually felt like he was being dragged back from the pits of hell.
Rebirths weren’t meant to be easy or painless.
Was that what had happened to him? After trying for so long to “fix” himself and return to the person he once was, only to fail over and over again, had this done the trick?
His multi-slate went off, Nate’s name flashing in neon lettering, and he made a sound of relief. His friend was always good at comforting others and Bay needed someone to help ground him. “Hey.”
“…Hi,” Nate’s voice came through the other end, hesitant. “Are you all right?”
No.
Yes.
Maybe?
“I’m not sure,” he ended up replying, licking his lips as he leaned an arm against the stained marble countertop. He had no idea what the stains were from. They’d been there when he’d bought the place. They’d never bothered him before, but now he frowned at them, wondering if Sila had noticed.
“You sound…” Nate cleared his throat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you sounded happy just now when you picked up.”
“It’s just nice to hear from you.”
“Have you changed your mind about restarting your sessions with Dr. Orion? Is that it?”
Bay winced at Nate’s hopeful tone, feeling bad about disappointing him—Guilt. He felt guilty, and not that miniscule brush of it he could sometimes get tiny bursts of, but the real deal. In full, uncomfortable, brightness.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he said. “These past years, I know it couldn’t have been easy putting up with me.”
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t,” he disagreed.
“Pace yourself,” Nate urged. “From the way you sound, whatever you’re doing it’s working. Can I come over? Or do you want to go out and do anything?”
Bay chuckled. “Why do you sound more excited than I am?” When he was met with silence he was forced to add, “That was a joke.”
“I’m coming over.” The sound of a hoverbike engine revving came through the speaker. “I’ll be there in ten.”
“Okay.” The line went dead almost before he’d gotten the response out and he rolled his eyes and tossed his device back onto the counter. Planting both palms against the smooth surface, he leaned in, practically until the tip of his nose met the glass.
He wasn’t just imagining it, there was something in his eyes, an awareness in his gaze that he’d been lacking. At school, they referred to him as the Statue Professor. He’d heard the rumors, many of which hadn’t been whispered all that quietly in his presence. They said he was cold and unmoving, yet beautiful, like an ancient sculpture. Like with everything else, before he’d been ambivalent about those comments, but now…
Surely this couldn’t last. What were the odds that he’d been shocked awake by Sila’s abusive cock of all things?
That wasn’t even why Bay had been interested in him in the past. He’d liked the younger man because he’d given off this sense of light and kindness. He’d reminded Bay of the person he used to be before his grandmother’s death, the kind of person who could make friends anywhere and could always find the silver lining even on the stormiest of days.
Now, that person he used to be seemed like a stranger to him, a recollection of a different person entirely separate from Bay. He held all those memories, but he couldn’t figure out how to get back to being that way, or even muster the amount of care needed to truly give it an attempt.
He’d become a stone statue. The undead.
But the man staring back at him in the mirror wasalive.
Knowing Nate was close, Bay left the bathroom and the confusing reflection behind, quickly getting ready for the day. He pulled on the first shirt he could find, a black t-shirt he probably hadn’t washed, and a pair of faded jeans, then paused to stare at the unmade bed.
The sheets were a twisted mess and the comforter was rolled up in a heap at the center where he’d left it. He’d gone after Sila when the younger man had suddenly told him he would see him later, locking the door behind him. As if that would make some sort of difference.
