For the second night in a row now, Jake had even left the lights on in the hotel room so he wouldn’t have to sleep in the dark, since he was scared of the dark. Like a little kid. And yet, just closing his eyes, just letting himselfstartto drift off to sleep, just thinkingat allabout what was happening—or what had almost happened—down in Arizona, and he was gone. Lost and trapped and no longer in control of himself.
His hands still buzzed, and he felt clammy and lightheaded. And so, so tired.
“S-sorry,” he said, his voice catching on the single word. “Sorry to wake you up.”
Jake’s hand stopped rubbing his arm but gave a gentle squeeze. “No, no, it’s fine. You didn’t wake me up.”
And suddenly Rye laughed. Actually laughed. Just once, and not because he actually thought it was funny. Although maybe it was, a little. He shook his head with another laugh and then rolled over onto his stomach, burying his head into his pillow but letting the blanket fall away from his face. Then he turned his head just slightly and opened his eyes to glance up at Jake.
“You were asleep. You were snoring,” he said, very, very glad when his words came.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were!” Rye cut in. He huffed another tiny laugh and then buried his face back into the pillow. “It... was helping me,” he admitted, his voice now muffled. He turned his head so Jake could hear him, and his chest tightened. “But then I started thinking about...himand—and what he’s doing in Arizona. And I got lost. And... and I...”
At least, that was what he thought had happened. He still felt nauseous and dizzy, and his heart still thrummed unsteadily.
“You’re safe now. It’s okay,” Jake said softly, and his hand came to settle on Rye’s back, that place where it always did. But its weight seemed to push into him—holding him down. Holding him down on the bed so he couldn’t move so—
He muffled a sob into the bed and shook his head as fear froze himin place.
“Jake.” He forced the word out, needing to know. Needing the reminder that it was still his friend here and not someone else. But the weight pressed down into him and didn’t go away, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe.
“I’m here, Rye. It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t. It wasn’t and it wouldn’t be. And he wasn’t and he wouldn’t be. Jake’s hand pressed into him again, and the rational part of his mind—the bit of it that could somehow still think a little—told him Jake didn’t know. Jake didn’t know he was so on the verge of panickingagain, and—and he probably even thought he was comforting Rye. Normally, his touch would be comforting, but right now, it was the opposite.
He muffled another whimper into his pillow and scrunched his eyes shut. “Please... please don’t,” he begged. “Please don’t.”
Not that those words told Jake anything about what not to do—about the fact that Rye felt trapped on the bed, terrified. He couldn’t force out anything more, though.
“Please don’t . . . ?”
Rye nodded, and he tried again. “Your... hand.”
Instantly, the weight disappeared, and Rye found his body moving on its own, shifting away from Jake, over to the other side of the bed. Nothing stopped him or grabbed him. No one yelled at him or cursed.
In fact, the next thing he heard was Jake’s quiet voice apologizing with a gentle, “I’m so sorry, Rye.”
“It’s—it’s o-okay,” he mumbled, his face still buried into a pillow.
And Jake said something else then. Something about how it wasn’t okay and he’d do better in the future, but that just made Rye’s face heat up with shame. Because it usuallywasokay. He usually found comfort in Jake’s touch. This had been too much, though. Too much and the wrong timing and his brain was playing tricks on him. And it felt awful.
And he could hear it in Jake’s voice how awful Jake felt, too. And he didn’t want that.
He turned onto his side, facing Jake, who sat at the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed with worry, and Rye’s stomach lurched.
He’d put that worry there.
Him and his stupid brokenness. Him and his broken mind that wouldn’t let him sleep or close his eyes or be alone or not be alone. Or be touched on his back by his friend—who was more than just a friend.
He hated it. And in that moment, he hated himself, too.
But then Jake’s expression softened, his frown turning into a gentle smile, and Jake spoke to him slowly and clearly. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Rye. I’msorry, and I should have asked before touching you. I shouldn’t have assumed that it was okay because I’d touched you there before. I’ll do better. Okay?” Jake paused, like he was searching for the right words. “It’s... it’s not a burden on me to have to ask for your consent. And you’re absolutely always allowed to say no.”
God, if only that had always been the case. Rye closed his eyes tightly and nodded, and he felt the bed shift slowly, carefully. A moment later, Jake’s heavy, uneven footsteps moved away from him, in the direction of the TV. Rye opened his eyes and followed as Jake stopped and picked up the remote control.
“What if we watch a movie, huh? You’re up, I’m up. It’s late, but, well, you know.” Jake glanced back at Rye over his shoulder with a small smile and shrugged. “Maybe it’ll help you get to sleep. Unless you want to try to talk?”
