“I know,” I tell him. “We should have been paying better attention to keep ahead of the storm. That’s our fault.”
Keary nods, resting his forehead against the side of Drystan’s head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to ignore the weather. I didn’t mean to let a storm catch us off guard. I’m so sorry.”
Drystan nods as his shoulders rise a little in a shrug. “Not your fault.”
“Itismy fault,” Keary says. “I’ve been so damn angry at you both that I didn’t do the one thing I promised I would, and that was to keep us out of storms. I didn’t mean to break that promise.”
It’s not entirely Keary’s fault. Drystan and I haven’t stopped poking at him for the past couple weeks, continuing with our plan to keep him well-orgasmed at night as a means to seduce him into accepting us.
Maybe a little morally gray, but fuck, I’m tired. I’m tired of aching. I’m tired of pining. I’m just so fucking tired of hanging in limbo because Keary is being an asshole.
“Is the storm gone?” Drystan asks.
Keary kisses the side of his head then lets him go. “I’ll check. Hold on.”
He stands and unbars the door, poking his head out to study the sky. I realize that Rainer and Kaida are sitting on the floor in front of us, their faces holding strangely similar expressions. Deep concern.
When it gets really bad, when we’re in the middle of a hurricane or too close to a tornado, Drystan’s mind will drudge up his memories so vividly that we can actually see them move around us. We can see the same horrors he does. The torture he lived through.
There’s nothing worse than that. For any of us. I’m glad this wasn’t one of those times.
Keary comes back. “It’s a break in the storm,” he says. “Come on. We’re going to find you somewhere better to keep out of it.”
Drystan whimpers. I help Keary get him to his feet. Drystan stops short when he sees Rainer there, and a new kind of horror fills his face.
“What can I do?” Rainer asks.
“Is there a basement here?” Keary asks.
Rainer looks around and shrugs. “I can look.” He turns away then disappears around the corner with the lut at his side.
“He saw me like that,” Drystan complains. “He probably thinks I’m pathetic now.”
“He doesn’t,” I reassure him.
“Rainer wants to help,” Keary says. “He’s worried about you.”
Drystan doesn’t believe us. He has this constant fear that everyone who witnesses his breakdowns think he’s pathetic. Weak. Disgusting.
I have a feeling these are words that were often repeated to him when he failed to do as he was told. They’re the cruelest words that can ever be said to him now. He has such a deep fear of hearing one of them directed at him. It’s his biggest insecurity.
Keary and I struggle to get him to move, but he’s rooted to the spot. Fear of the storm and fear of what Rainer thinks of him are preventing him from moving. Without physically picking him up, we have no choice but to wait until he is either propelled forward on his own or is at least marginally convinced that his fears aren’t true.
Our human pet returns. “No basement, but there’s a room without windows. I can barely hear the rain in there. It might dull the noise of the storm, if that’ll help.”
“It will,” I say.
“Tell Drystan what you feel right now,” Keary says when Drystan still refuses to move.
Keary’s words make him tense, and his breathing becomes stuttered again.
Rainer isn’t sure what Keary’s asking, but I know Keary worded the request that way so as not to lead him into saying exactly what Drystan needs to hear. Drystan is never convinced if we point someone in the direction that’s needed.
A beat passes, and I want to hurry Rainer along. I’m sure he’s beyond confused by this entire situation, so I try to keep my patience with him as he reads the room. Eventually,finally, he steps forward and places his hands on either side of Drystan’s face, gently coaxing Drystan’s eyes up.
“I’m scared for you,” Rainer says. “I feel a little helpless because I don’t know what I can do to help you when it’s clear you’re in pain and terrified. I feel… restless because I need to do something, and finding a room that isn’t quite what you need feels like a failure. I don’t know how to fix that.”
Drystan takes a breath, and his eyes squeeze shut for a second. He practically lurches forward when a distant rumble of thunder gives warning that a second wave of the storm is well on its way.
