Raider wrestles two fitted sheets into submission before the reply buzzes into his phone.
Rune:Maybe you shouldn’t get a cat.
Rune:I don’t know how I feel about someone else getting to sit on your lap.
Raider nearly drops his phone. His heart thuds louder than the operatic aria currently blasting. Every nerve in his body buzzes alive, and he can’t even care that Rune is blatantly changing the subject. Because Raider’s every drop of immortal blood isextremely interestedin this new topic.
Rune:Sorry, was that too much?
Rune:That was probably too much. I wish I was better at this.
Raider:You’re doing just fine, cutie. I know one way you could improve, though
Raider:Let me see if your ass is as cute as the rest of you
Rune starts typing. Then stops typing. Starts and stops several times before a deliciously long pause. Then the photo arrives, and Raider’s fingers are too clumsy to type a reply.
He sits heavily on his bed, right on a bunch of clean towels, and taps the music off. As silence crashes over him, he calls Rune’s unknown number.
5
Tinny music blares shockingly loud in Rune’s hushed bedroom. He fumbles with the phone—is it broken? Did he click a cat video on accident? His hand slips, and the music stops.Call declined.
So, not broken. That was a phone call, and Rune just refused it.
“No,” Rune whispers. “No, no—ah!”
The music blares again. This time Rune keeps his wits enough to read the words on the screen.Call from Raider. Holding his breath in concentration, Rune accepts the call. The music stops.
Rune puts the phone to his ear. He should probably say something, but his throat is too tight, his heart too unsteady. He doesn’t know what to say.
Then a smooth voice wraps around him like a warm sweater. “You there, cutie?”
Rune sits on the edge of his bed, hugging himself through his baggy sweatshirt. He’s pulled his sweatpants back up, too, but feels somehow even more exposed than he did taking that photo.
The photo is nothing special. If anything, it’s even worse than Rune’s other photos—he had to twist so awkwardly in front of the mirror. Rune has sent lots of photos to Raider over the past few weeks. Breakfasts and books and his favorite fluffy socks, and so many photos of his face, his hands, even his feet, whenever Raider asks for one.
Raider seems so delighted by every small piece Rune can surrender of himself. Every photo and word and little smiling emoji. Rune thrives on the praise. Raider makes him forget how terrible he must be, to be locked away like this.
“I’m here,” Rune answers. He’s always here, so that’s not important. What’s important is this: “You’re talking to me.”
Weeks of texting, and they haven’t spoken out loud until now. Rune knows it’s been weeks because he’s kept track of time like never before. He figured out how to set his phone to match the time zone listed in Raider’s H2H profile. Then he changed all the other appliances to match. Rune has no idea what color the sky is above his prison, but he knows today is February 7, and it’s 11 p.m. for Raider now. Most nights, that would mean one to three more hours before Raider fell asleep.
Rune has no idea what the hour means when Raider is on the other end of this phone call. When Raider’s soft breath whispers against Rune’s ear.
“Is calling you okay?” Raider asks. “Gonna be honest, I really want it to be okay.”
“It’s okay,” Rune says quickly. But that’s insufficient. “I want to hear your voice, more than I can describe.”
Raider’s voice grows even warmer. “That’s good, cutie. Where are you right now? Are you alone?”
Rune’s always alone—but for once, that doesn’t seem like a bad thing. “I’m alone. I’m sitting on my bed.”
“Yeah? So am I.” There’s a faint noise, a mattress settling. “I’m sitting in bed thinking about that photo you just sent.”
Rune’s breath hitches. “What about it?”
That warmth in Raider’s voice must be a smile. “My hopes weren’t high enough. You’ve got the prettiest ass I’ve ever seen.”
