“Benjamin….” I can hear it in my voice. The shock, the hurt, the sadness. He can too.
Benjamin stands up straight, runs a hand through his hair, and takes a deep breath.
“Alright, Aaron. If we have to—then let’s go.” He turns, walking toward the street.
The walk to his apartment will take about ten minutes if memory of this city serves me right. Benjamin is muttering to himself and stumbling over rocks. Once he almost eats shit for the third time, he wraps his index finger around one of my belt loops.
“Do you—”
“No. Fuck you.” I laugh at him because I just can’t wrap my head around his attitude—his anger. “Don’t laugh at me.” He glares.
“I’m not laughingatyou. I think it’s endearing.” He flips me off with the hand not hooked to me. “A lot of fire for the guy who needs me to stand.”
Benjamin makes a big show of letting go of me, raising both hands, and smirking right at me. And he looks so smug and confident—until he starts to topple right over.
I snatch him up around the waist—breathing in his hair, his little squeal, him beingherewithme.
How many times will we be forced apart? For how long will he hate me?
“Let me go.” He demands, but his body is limp, he’s not fighting me. “I’ll kill you.” He sounds vicious and slurred.
I set him upright, but when he doesn’t push away, I pull him tighter against me. His hair is so soft—tickling my face, my neck. His back fits so well against my chest. So familiar and warm. I feel his hands rest on my thighs, shaking just slightly.
I run a hand up his stomach, so softly. Not to turn him on—not to push things further. I just want to touch him, any part of him I can. That hand runs up to his shoulder under his jacket and he’s shuddering so softly in my arms.
“Benjamin.” I whisper, and I feel him swallow roughly, hands tightening where they rest on my thighs.
“What?” He keeps his voice angry—distant.
“I miss you.” His head falls forward, chin touching his chest. I press my face into his neck—breathing him in again. I’m trying to figure out on which part of him I can smell him best.
“It’s your fault.” Benjamin’s anger—it’s mixed with sorrow now. He tilts his head back and stares right up at me—eyes wide and so honest. I can see in them how fucked up he is. “I would’ve stayed by your side forever.Youdid this.”
And all I can do is nod—because he’s right. In one way or another, it is my fault.
“I know. Let’s take you home.”
Benjamin lets me keep an arm around his waist as we walk and I use the time to memorize the feel of his skin again. The apartment is on the second floor, so I have to put Benjamin in front of me—either helping him walk up the next step or picking him up and placing him on it myself. It takes a few minutes for us to reach the door.
“Aaron, the keys are here.” He shoves a hand into his front pocket, using the other to balance himself by pressing it against the door. “I’ll find it—hold on.”
I keep a hold of his hip as he looks. I watch him search both pockets twice before he finds the key in the first pocket he felt in.
Benjamin looks up over his shoulder at me and grins—trying not to giggle.
“That’s so my bad. It was hiding.” I can’t help but start smiling back at him.
“Come on, let’s get this glitter off your face and put you in something comfortable.”
“Kay.”
He’s so docile now—letting me guide him, move him—letting me stay. I take him to the bathroom connected to his room and sit him on the sink.
“Wait a minute. How’d you know?” He’s narrowing his eyes at me—leaning forward slightly. I place a hand on his chest to keep him from falling forward straight off the ledge.
“Know what?”
“Which room was mine.” Oops. He’s raising a brow. I grab a rag from the shelf over the toilet.
