“It’s a deal.”
14. Wrong Tree
THE VEGETABLESfor the ratatouille were grilling in the oven, giving Andi and George time to have a shower. Strictly speaking it wasn’t original ratatouille the way George made it, but it tasted a lot more intense when the ingredients were grilled before they entered their union with the tomato sauce and the cheese. Standing in front of the mirror, Andi stared at his reflection, trying to get himself together before he walked back into the kitchen. George was stressed enough as it was. He didn’t need the added worry of Andi sinking deeper into the world of arthropods again. They were waking, more quickly each day, swamping him again, and he was just so tired all the time. If only he could lie down and sleep for a year, everything would surely be better. He couldn’t give in to these thoughts, though. They led into dangerous territory, as he well knew. One reason this case was battering him so much—apart from it being a serial killer case, and him being on his last leg—was that depression was an old acquaintance of his. It had been only mild episodes so far; in the beginning he hadn’t even realized this wasn’t something inherent to thegeschenk. Once he did, he read up on depression, watched himself adamantly for the first signs to be able to counteract them immediately. Nothing George needed to know. Nothing that had occurred since he’d met George. His partner was his shield in more than one regard. If only his exhaustion hadn’t already reached those ink-black depths where coming back to the light seemed like an impossible task, so impossible that attempting it was fruitless. He had never fully recovered from the Castain case, his flanks wide-open to attacks from this other world that wasn’t his and yet filled his life so completely. He sighed and dried his hair with the towel, then put on some of the hydrating lotion George had bought him. It was organic, vegan, purely from plants, no animal cruelty. Pure like the man who had gifted it to him. After he had slipped on his pajamas, Andi stared longingly at his bed. Sleep would come so easily; he felt it, knew it. His bones seemed to weigh tons, dragging him to the ground. A low grumble from his stomach reminded him how important sustenance was, especially for somebody who tended to forget to eat regularly. He was too tired to try for grace when he stomped down the stairs, surrounded by a familiar blanket of impressions—
Food, warm, stress, sharp, unpleasant, worry, worry, worry, the blobs too loud, moving, restless, hunger, always hunger, gnawing at everything, filling all space, hunger for warmth, for food, for companionship, no, that was him, not them, they didn’t understand such concepts, they understood that both blobs were unbalanced, their chemistry all over the place, the scents agitating, no rest, like bees before swarming, where was the queen, it smelled of tomatoes, he needed to feed—
“What’s wrong?”
Andi had entered the kitchen without noticing it, too caught up in the jumble of images from them and thoughts of his own. Too late now, George was worried, staring at him with that glint in his eyes, determined to not let it go.Wasn’t there a song about that?Andi sat down at the kitchen island, holding George’s gaze for a moment before his partner went back to putting the finishing touches on their meal. It didn’t mean Andi was off the hook. It just meant George was giving him time to craft one of those half lies Andi had been relying on more and more in the past weeks, torn between confiding in his partner and sparing him the strain. Only there were no more half lies left in him. He felt drained, in every sense of the word. Just one step and he could fall over the precipice, down and down and down until he hit the ground so hard it all vanished.
A clinking sound and George put a plate full of food in front of him. His hand, big and strong and warm, touched Andi’s, just a brush, nothing more, breaking the dam. He’d been strong for so long, he just needed a short reprieve, one night where somebody else shouldered all his burdens. He ignored the guilt at doing this to George, he just….
Andi felt tears staining his cheeks. “I’m so tired.” The words came out as a whispered sob, his armor cracking into pieces, his hands shaking so badly he couldn’t take the spoon.
George was at his side immediately, slinging his arms around him, absorbing the shock waves of his violent heaving with his strength. Andi leaned in, took the support he needed for the first time ever, because there had never been anybody he could lean on, and just having George made him realize how close to breaking he had been before, all the time holding it together by sheer will, but his will was running out and George was here.
Andi didn’t know how long they stayed that way, him shaking in George’s arms, George making soothing sounds that reminded him of purring. Perhaps he should get a cat, no, animals needed caring, and Andi wasn’t a caregiver, he was more like a cat himself; it was so nice to be enveloped by George’s warmth.
A spoonful of food appeared in front of his face. George had sat down on the stool next to his, both their plates in front of him. Andi took the bite, started chewing. It was good, as always.
“Yum.”
“Wonderful.” George took some from his own plate, ate it, offered another spoon to Andi. They took their time, enjoying the slightly cold meal while Andi felt himself calming down. He wasn’t fine, not by a long shot, but the hysteria of everything being too much, of drowning in a wave of sheer exhaustion, had given way to simply being empty. Even the images from the arthropods were muted, his brain too tired to compute anything properly, with the exception of how wonderful George felt next to him, how good the food tasted. It was his body’s last defense—shutting down to within an inch of complete oblivion for a chance to regroup.
“I think we better get you to bedpronto. What do you think?” Bless George for not prying when Andi was so obviously down.
“Yes.”
“You go up and brush your teeth. I’ll take care of the kitchen and make sure everything’s locked.”
“Are you coming, then?” Andi would have hated how needy he sounded if he’d had the energy.
“Of course.” Calm, steady, reliable. A rock on the beach, breaking the waves.
A few minutes later, George entered Andi’s bedroom after a short knock that was more a nod to politeness than the act itself. It wasn’t needed between them, something Andi loved. He was done brushing his teeth and had put on his woolen sleeping socks.
“Hold me?” This was new. The most he had asked of George until now was to sit with him until he could sleep. Not tonight, though. Tonight, he needed a connection, as close and intense as possible. He needed another’s warmth. No. Wrong. He needed George’s warmth, the only person whoacceptedwhat he was. And George, saint that he was, didn’t even flinch, didn’t hesitate.
“Gladly. Just let me brush my teeth real quick.”
Andi waited until his partner was back, lifting the comforter. They both slipped in, Andi now a bit hesitant. Overcome by his own boldness. What man asked another to snuggle him like he was a child who had had a nightmare?A man at the end of his rope.
George didn’t seem to suffer from insecurities. He slipped into the bed, grabbed the edge of the comforter to drag it over both of them, pulled Andi against his body, and held him there by putting his arm over his waist. It was perfect.
“Sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow.” The low rumble of George’s voice showed Andi the way to sleep, his partner’s warmth surrounding him like a shield, keeping everything—the world, the kaleidoscope of images it was made of, the troubles of the blobs—out. Peace at last.
“I KNOWit’s bad, Andi, but I need you to give me an honest estimate of how bad.”
They were in the Escalade, driving to the precinct. After a night of blissful, uninterrupted sleep, they had spent the morning in amicable silence, George respecting Andi’s need to absorb as much of the tranquility as possible. Now that they were about to interact with the harsh world again, George demanded information—rightfully so.
“Last night helped. Thank you for that.”
George grunted. “It was nothing. Now tell me, do we need to give this case to somebody else?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure. I’ve never been so tempted to say yes. I-I feel like I’m drowning.” Andi hated sounding so helpless, hated not being able to rely on himself anymore, hated how little he hated that he needed George.
“What do you want me to do?” So simple, so straightforward. Andi knew George would protect him at all costs. Which was the reason he would try to power through this case, because he didn’t want this man—his partner, his friend, his confidant—to pay the price for Andi’s curse.
