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One of the many military tricks I picked up at Featherstone, encouraging me to fall asleep without consuming my mind. I really don’t have the time to count sheep.
At the edge of darkness, my breathing regulating on its own more naturally as I drift off to sleep, I startle alert to the sound of a gut-wrenching cry that rattles in my chest.
What the fuck was that?
My gun is in my hand even before my feet touch the floor and I’m on the move. No alarms have sounded, so there can’t be an intruder, but my body moves quietly back toward Nate's room, gun poised and ready as I nudge his door open.
I clearly do it more forcefully than I intended when it ricochets off the wall beside me, making the startled man in the bed jump even higher. I don’t lower my gun, not right away, as I take stock of Nate.
His pupils are wide, hand on his chest as he heaves with every breath, fear consuming his facial features as he props himself up on his elbow. There are tears pooled in his blue eyes, pain and terror taking their hold on him.
“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice hoarse from the fact that I was on the cusp of sleeping before I bounced to my feet and barreled in here. My gun is still raised as I scan the room, but the hint of embarrassment tinting his cheeks pink tells me there’s no threat present. I notice two books lay open beside him and he quickly acknowledges them as well, moving them to the nightstand as he scrambles to respond.
Lowering my gun, I move toward the bed, and he quickly swipes at his cheeks. “I’d rather you didn’t watch me cry,” he grumbles, lying back down in the bed with his face in his hands.
“I’d rather you didn’t cry at all.” I’m unsure where that came from or how the words managed to miss the filter between my brain and my mouth, but they’re out there and I can’t exactly take them back. To my surprise though, he looks through his fingers at me. The hint of shock and confusion swirling in his eyes is a much better replacement from the pain and terror from moments ago. “Move over,” I add, rounding the bed to the right. Not my usual choice, but it’s the side of the bed closest to the door, so I suck it up. If someone makes it into this bedroom, I’m the first—and probably last—thing they’ll see.
He does as I ask, removing his hands fully from his face as he looks up at me, eyebrows knitting together as he waits for my next move.
Placing the gun on the nightstand, I shake my blazer off, discarding it on the floor, before lying down on the bed beside him. He remains tucked up underneath the covers, while I lie on top, my body slowly starting to relax once more. Although my heart rate is still spiked from the initial panic of his cry.
Nate clears his throat beside me, hinting that he has something to say, but no words prepare me for what falls out of his mouth. “You know I’m a gay man, right? It’s not going to look all that good on your reputation to be seen in bed with me.”
Is this man for real? I turn to face him slowly, eyes locking on his baby blues as he waits for me to respond or jump off the bed in disgust. Maybe both. I can’t keep the frown off my face as I look at him, trying to comprehend what is going through his mind.
“I don’t know your trauma, Nate, and I’m not going to pretend to either, but that means nothing to me. If it ever does matter to someone, then they have no right being in the same room as you, let alone the same bed,” I state calmly, watching his eyes widen as I speak. Something flashes across his face, something I can’t quite place, but I turn away, tilting my head to the ceiling and closing my eyes. “Besides, vagina isn’t my chosen flavor of sauce either,” I add, just so we’re both clear with each other, and I hear his sharp inhale immediately.
I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my head, before he finally mutters a single word. “Oh.”
Yeah, oh.I think, a smirk threatening to tease my lips.
I’m a built guy, muscular, manly looking, thuggish on some occasions, and the job definitely doesn’t help. Most people stereotype me straight into the heterosexual category, and it’s times like this that I like to defy the norm.
I’m me. I’m Benji. I’m whoever I fucking want to be.
Other people's perceptions of me aren’t going to change that.
When he doesn’t comment any further, I release a sigh. “Now, are we going to sleep or gossip? I’m down for either, but my eyes are remaining closed so my brain at least thinks I’m sleeping,” I say with a smile touching my lips, my lids remaining closed as silence follows.
It may be quiet, but now Nate seems to be awake for the long haul and I can sense his brain ticking into overdrive. He shuffles around in bed, reluctantly accepting that I’m not going anywhere. My gut tells me a nightmare ripped him from his sleep, but if he doesn’t want to talk about it, I won’t push.
I’m not sure how much time passes, but I sense him turning to his side, and I know a question is going to follow at any moment.
“What made you choose this life?”
Wow. That’s not the question I was expecting. It’s not one I’ve ever been asked before, and I don’t know how to answer it but with the raw truth.
“I didn’t,” I admit, clearing my throat as I keep my eyes shut and my face tilted up.
“What does that mean?” Nate pushes, the confusion evident in his words as he hopes for more of an explanation.
Without thinking, I turn to my side, facing him, but my eyes remain closed. “It means that sometimes you’re born to the wrong people, the worst people, or into a bloodline that is controlled without you being given a choice. But none of that matters when those are the cards you’ve been dealt.”
My heart starts to race in my chest at the idea of myself being open and exposed. Maybe my lips are loose because I’m so tired, or maybe it’s because it’s him. Breaking down my defenses and walls with no effort at all.
“Have you killed people?”
My eyes open before I can stop them and I come face to face with his piercing blues mere inches away from mine. There’s no fear there, just open curiosity and a desire to know.
