He didn’t get nearly enough affectionate touch when we were children, and I can’t imagine that’s changed. It’s time to start filling that void ASAP.
Once I’m bracketed in between his legs, I let my hands rest gently on his shoulders. I think it’s a positive sign that he doesn’t startle or flinch away from the touch, but who knows? He could just be that numb. I rub his shoulders and down over his arms, trying to bring a little life back into this cold flesh.
It only takes a minute before I feel him shiver under my palms, and he tilts his face to look up at me.
“Bambi?” His voice is so small. I don’t think even he knows what he’s asking for, but whatever it is, I want to give it to him.
My heart thuds against my chest so hard I feel like tiny fissures are forming in my ribs, trying to hold it in. The depth ofaffection I still hold for him, even after all this time and distance, threatens to overwhelm me. I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s what we went through. It’s hard to suffer that much pain with another person and ever get over the bond that you forge. I don’t know. Either way, my body is screaming to wrap myself around him and squeeze him tight until he’s safe. Safe from his father, from himself, from everyone in the whole goddamn world.
I cup his cheeks, like I did in the kitchen before, and sweep my thumbs across them in a way that makes him shiver again. His eyes turn unfocused, but he’s still watching me like I hold the answers to the universe in my hands.
Maybe I do.
“I have a medication. I’m going to give you an injection and it’s going to help you sleep, and then I think you’re going to feel better. And you’re going to share the bed with me, because you need real sleep, and I worry that the couch is making things worse. So, it’s going to be a shot, drink a glass of water, and then sleep for as long as your body wants you to. None of this is up for discussion, got it?”
Tadhg nods. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and I don’t think he would have the energy to argue with me even if he wanted to.
Once I have him on board, the rest is easy. I decide to do the injection in his quad, because it’s a large volume and his legs are ridiculously sized. He barely even flinches, even though I’m sure it must fucking burn.
After that, he eats three saltines that I feed him in little pieces and drinks the glass of water I hold to his face. I plan to refill it and leave it next to him, but at the last minute, I swerve and leave a reusable bottle instead of the glass. Not that I realistically think he’ll wake up and immediately start smashing anything that could become sharp and harmful, but it’s more of a habit.
Once my danger-eyes are turned on, I see the threat in all the household objects.
I get him tucked in, and it barely takes fifteen minutes before he’s asleep. Thank fucking Krishna, Jesus, Troye Sivan, whoever. I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s asleep.
Once I’m confident I can get away for a minute, I do a quick round up of everything else in the apartment that seems too dangerous to leave, throw it all in a backpack and then take it downstairs to stash in the trunk of my car. When I get back, he’s still sleeping in the position I left him in, an expression of twisted pain on his face even in his slumber, but at least it’s something.
As soon as everything is done, my own exhaustion hits me like a brick wall. I yawn my way through showering and changing and then crawl into bed next to Tadhg.
It’s been over a decade since I shared a bed with my stepbrother. He’s more than doubled in size since then, and it’s weird to feel his immense presence next to me on the mattress. Especially when I’m generally not a sleepover kind of guy anyway. My dates tend to beget some and get out, especially because of my wacky work schedule.
Which is how I like it. It normally bothers me listening to another person breathe all night. But right now, the sound of him breathing is like a balm. I wouldn’t be able to sleep anywhere else. I need to be here so I can be sure he’s safe.
If no one else in the freaking universe is going to watch out for this man, then I can’t let him out of my sight.
Savage
Waking up before I went on the meds always felt like a sudden kick of adrenaline—awho-what-wherearousal of fight or flight that had me go from resting to awake in a few seconds, taking in my surroundings with my heart screeching to keep up.
It was exhausting. That was one of my favorite things about the meds. One of the things that made it worth all the shitty side effects, that I was finally able to get some sleep and wake up in a way that didn’t feel like I’d been dumped into a bucket of ice water.
But this is something I’ve never experienced. This feels like clawing my way to the top of a swimming pool with a tarp tangled around my ankles. I swear I almost wake up—my eyes slitting open and my awareness scratching at the surface before diving back down—five or six times before I wake up for real.
When I do, Micah is next to me. I don’t know why, but that immediately soothes the thrum of anxiety already threatening to take hold of my chest.
It’s nighttime. Dark, at least, but it’s hard to tell with all the blackout curtains and shit he has in his apartment. He’s lying next to me in lounge clothes that make him look like something out of a catalog for modern, trendy, overpriced homewares, scrolling on an iPad.
“I didn’t know you had glasses.”
Micah jumps a little, inhaling and making an “O” with his mouth as he turns toward me. He blinks once before snatching the glasses off his face, and I swear I can see his cheeks coloring in the light coming from the iPad screen. They have thick, dark rims. Classic nerd glasses, and they suit him.
He looks less like a real nerd and more like a porn star wearing prop glasses.Nerd gets railed by the football team after practice. That kind of thing.
My mind feels completely scrambled. I wonder how much I’ve slept to feel this out of it.
“Yeah, well, I only wear them if I’m reading in bed,” he says, but I’ve already forgotten the question.
