“Good.”
They stayed there for a few more minutes until Rye’s heart slowed back down. When Rye stepped away, Jake immediately took his hand, and he was grateful for that.
“I thought I was okay,” he repeated, and Jake nodded. “I’m not really sure what just happened. I’m sorry.”
This time, Jake shook his head, and he gently tugged Rye back up to him and carefully wrapped his arms around Rye, holding him in another soft, loving embrace. It was even warmer and more comfortable than the last hug, and Rye leaned into him with a contented sigh. A light kiss pressed to the top of his head.
“Do you want to sit?” Jake asked quietly.
And as though Jake had predicted it, an overwhelming exhaustion hit suddenly and without warning. His legs nearly gave out, and nausea rolled through his stomach. Groaning, he clung tightly to his boyfriend, whose arms supported him easily.
“Or maybe you should go back to bed?” Jake suggested lightly, rubbing Rye’s back. “It’s really early still. And we were up late last night.”
Last night.Rye scrunched his eyes shut.
Probably all of this had to do withlast night—their conversation, the touching, and... and what Rye had done by himself later in bed—even if he didn’t understand completely why, or the feelings didn’t make sense. That was something his therapist had mentioned—he might not always be able to immediately identify or understand what triggered a reaction of his, or he might even have a delayed reaction to something... likelast night.
It made sense now that he let himself think about it. But then he also started to shake a little, and he nodded. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Okay. Let me help you. Is that okay?”
Rye nodded again, and he did. He let Jake support him as they walked together back down the hallway. Jake stopped with him in the doorway to the extra bedroom and rubbed his back. Then he started forward by himself.
Jake stayed standing in the doorway.
Part of him thought maybe that was best. But some greater part of him stopped after just one step, a chill sending a shiver through him. He shook his head and turned around, back to Jake, and when he reached out his hand, Jake took it, threading their fingers together. The warmth returned right away, and he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms low around Jake’s waist.
“I actually don’t want to be alone,” he said, and though his words were muffled into Jake’s shirt, Jake seemed to understand him anyway.
Jake returned the embrace, kissed the top of Rye’s head, and said, “I can stay with you. Pull up a chair. Just let me grab a book or something to read, if that’s okay, and—”
“Can you just hold me?” Rye cut in, squeezing Jake tighter. And because hestilldidn’t want to give in to that voice inside him trying to silence his words, he continued. “We can lie down. Together. In your bed. And you can hold me. Please.”
He wasn’t even sure if that was a good idea, especially given whatever reaction he’d just had that had brought them here. But he knew he needed to bewithJake right then. More than anything. And so, when Jake asked a quiet “are you sure?,” Rye nodded quickly.
“Okay,” Jake agreed. “Okay. But tell me if anything gets to be too much. Okay?”
Rye nodded again. Then Jake stepped back, his hand slowly sliding around to touch Rye’s forearm. They held hands, and Jake directed them back out of the room and then farther down the hallway. He paused to turn on the light and then glanced back at Rye.
Before he even asked, Rye nodded. And Jake’s soft, kind smile lent him more strength and courage. He followed Jake into the brightly lit room, and he let himself glance around for just a second as Jake guided him toward the bed. The room felt comfortable, warm, welcoming, with medium gray-brown walls and ocean-themed art. There was a huge bookcase taking up an entire wall and a closet on the far side of the room that wasn’t quite shut all the way. Jake’s cane sat leaning up against a tall dresser made of a deep mahogany wood, and the dark-gray comforter on his bed was rumpled, like he hadn’t straightened it out when he’d gotten out of bed a bit ago.
Jake walked them right up to the edge of the bed and squeezed Rye’s hand. “I, um, usually sleep on this side, but wherever you feel most comfortable is fine withme. This side is, um, closest to the door, so I understand if you want... this side.” Jake’s hand released Rye’s, and his arm slipped around Rye’s waist.
And Rye just nodded.
“That’s a yes, you want this side?” Jake asked for clarification. When Rye nodded again, Jake bent down and kissed the top of Rye’s head. “Okay. Here, let me help you sit.”
Rye closed his eyes. Jake was so sweet and kind to him, and for another of those fleeting moments, he felt something deep—shame and guilt and some awful reminder of how broken he was. But then Jake’s fingers brushed along his cheek, and Jake’s soft voice said, “There we are. Perfect,” as Rye sat. And that last word,Perfect, echoed louder than everything else inside his head.
Jake’s warmth disappeared for a moment, and Rye felt the bed shift behind him. There was a quiet grunt and then fingers running lightly down his forearm. “Rye? You can lie down now.”
So he did. He pulled his feet up onto the bed, crawled under the covers, and then settled on his back and pulled the blanket all the way up to his chin before opening his eyes. He turned his head sideways to see Jake right there, no more than a foot away, lying on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. His expression was soft and caring, as always, and he gave Rye a smile that looked... cautious.
“Do you still want me to hold you?” Jake asked, and there was truly no expectation in his voice.
Rye tried for a smile, though his throat seemed tight. But because he didn’t want to say yes and then have himself not be able to handle it when Jake touched him, he hesitated for a moment. “Yes,” Rye said, “but, um, give me a minute?”
“Take your time.”
