An hour later we’re standing by my bike in the parking lot.
First—we had to eat. Benjamin was doingnothingwithout breakfast. Then eggs and toast later—we had to find clothes that were suitable to ride in as his were definitely not. Then we had to get ready and actuallygetthe guy out the door.
So now we’re standing here—Benjamin in one of my plain black shirts and a pair of black cargo pants. He looks like a cute little spy—or an assassin.
“Come oooooon!” Okay, so not an assassin. I put on a random shirt and a pair of blue jeans so I’m not as impressive in the roleplay department.
I throw a leg over my bike and kick up the stand, walking it backward out of the tight spot I keep it in to prevent people from hitting it. Once I’m out I motion for Benjamin to come to me. I hold out my helmet.
“What? Then what will you wear?” I give him a smile, shaking my head.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Fuck no!” He yells, shoving the helmet back at me. I snatch his hip into my hand and pull him close to me.
“Fuck yes. Ready?” It’s a command—not a question—and I’m realizing whether I’m fucking him or not it’s best for both of us when I wear my big-boy pants and guide him like a very horny, corrupt mentor. Swallowing roughly, he reluctantly takes the helmet from my hands.
As he’s taking it, a thought occurs to me and I point to the little blue bird on the side—the one I’ve stared at a million times. “This bird.” His face flushes.
“What about it?” Benjamin won’t meet my eyes, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth and fidgeting with the small strap inside of the helmet.
“Don’t act coy. Why this bird?” I already know. But the masochistic part of me needs him to say it—needs to know if he loved me when he did it. He takes a deep breath, meeting my eyes.
“They’re protector birds.” He’s mumbling and honestly kind of glaring at me like a spoiled kid giving a speech at school. “Possessive and territorial. They also symbolize happiness.” He shrugs—playing off the whole thing as if he got me a card with some cash in it.
“Benjamin.” Eyes can lie—I know—but his really do look honest, and right now he’s so vulnerable and hopeful. “Did you love me when you did this?” I tap the bird again. He looks down at it, brow furrowed.
“Yeah—I think I did, but I didn’t know. I didn’t know why I hated you so much but needed you around anyway. I did a lot of weird shit that makes sense to me now.” He laughs, lifting his eyes back to mine. I rub his hip with my thumb—waiting for his expression to change, for those eyes to close themselves off and hide away.
“You’ve called me your little blue bird a few times now.” He flinches.
“Aaron…. This is really embarrassing.” That makes me laugh and Benjamin glares at me some more.
“Get on the bike, Button.”
He puts his helmet on—lets me check the straps—then swings a leg over, settling in behind me. When the bike fires up, he jumps, arms flying out to wrap around me.Cute.
“Where are we going?” He raises his voice so I can hear him over the engine.
“Let’s just drive.” I look down and behind me at both of his feet—making sure they’re on the appropriate pegs—then grab his calf in my hand. “Lean onto me—never fully let me go—and wherever I move, you move. Cool?”
Peering over my shoulder at him—Benjamin has the clear visor on the front of the helmet raised to hear me better—his eyes a little panicked. I know he’ll calm once we get going, but I have to make sure he understands me.
I twist around as best as I can while on a crotch rocket and touch his stomach.
“Hey. If you’re scared, pinch me twice. Hard. I’ll pull over, I promise.” He nods. “You’ll have fun, Button. Trust me.” Benjamin lowers the visor, so I turn around, leaning forward slightly to settle into my seat.
I feel the hot press of his chest and his hands clasp at my belly button—my helmet resting on the back of my shoulder. Benjamin is pressed so tightly against me you’d think he’s trying to morph into a backpack.
I walk us a few steps, letting him register the movement. When I see no pinching going down, I rest a hand over his clasped ones in an attempt to bring him any sort of comfort and pull out onto the main street.
A few minutes into the ride I feel him relaxing against me—thighs untensing, his upper body leaning back a bit so he can look around as the world zips by. I let his hands free—let them spreadover my stomach. His hips are still firmly pressed against me—which is only driving me a little crazy.
Benjamin removes his right hand, which makes me grab the left. What the fuck is he doing?
Next to us in the harsh wind he makes waves with his arm, and IswearI hear him laugh. I don’t know what causes him all this pain—what keeps him so tormented. But if I can keep him alive—if I can help even just a bit with my useless antics—I’ll give him everything in my arsenal.
I’m doing somethingright.
