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Raphael had wrinkled his nose and said with a simple sniff, “I don’t really care for that name.”
“Well,” he said with a chuckle, “only my mother calls me Diego anymore.”
“Your mother and one German man who doesn’t care for animal names over people’s.”
Diego bought him another beer after that and then promised not to fall in love with him after proposing that he suck him off in the bathroom. Of course, Raphael didn’t want to disrespect Sonia’s workspace, so he led Diego back to his house and appreciated that the man never once complained about his slow gait.
Raphael made up for it after that anyway, by making Diego cry into his pillow, great heaving sobs of pleasure as he ate his ass first and then fucked him with perfect thrusts against his prostate until he came so hard, he shook the bed. He didn’t invite Diego to stay the night, but he didn’t throw him out. They held hands sweetly, and then Diego turned on his stomach and kissed Raphael with a long, slow stroke of his tongue.
“If I was capable of falling in love, you’d be dangerous.”
Raphael grinned. “It’s a good thing, then, because people who love me run. In the end.”
“Idiots,” Diego said, then yawned, and Raphael was inclined to agree.
They made no promises after that, but Diego called from time to time when he wanted sex and never turned Raphael away when he showed up at his house unannounced.
The night of the hickey was because his most recent doctor’s appointment had gone worse than he’d expected. His one seizure at work when Luca had cared for him had turned into two that month, which continued through the winter, and he’d started to panic.
His epilepsy had been managed and comfortable for most of his adulthood, and there was nothing new in his diet or in his life. His doctor had no answers, just adjustments, and there was never any promise that it would get better—or that it wouldn’t get worse.
“We want to keep an eye on it,” was the best the old neurologist could do. “And we’ll try some new meds if things don’t get any better in a couple of months.”
He was tired, and a little angry, so he let Diego fuck it out of him before work the next day, and it had helped to some degree. Now though, with Jayden’s eyes on him, there was little escape.
“The doctor’s appointment didn’t go well.” He pushed back in his chair, wincing at a blister from being careless with his kettle, but he rolled to the coffee maker and shoved a pod in. He hated Jayden’s little modern touches, but this caffeine was better than none at all.
He felt Jayden standing close, though he hadn’t heard him rise from his chair, but the hand that hovered over his shoulder was warm. “Do you want to talk about—”
“No,” he interrupted, more sharply than he meant to. “I asked Diego to fuck out my frustration, and he did.”
“And left such pretty marks.” Jayden ran his thumb over it, pressing into the bruise. He would have slept with Raphael too, if Jayden wasn’t so absolutely head over heels for someone else. They had done a quiet dance around when he’d first showed up in Savannah, but Raphael had cared too much to get in the way, and it worked out for everyone. “He’ll never love you, though.”
At that, Raphael laughed and took his mug, wheeling around carefully with one hand while his weaker one held the coffee above his thighs. “That’s why I only let him fuck me. You’re too soft.”
Jayden sighed, but it was one of fondness and nostalgia. He called Raphael the one who got away, but they both knew that Raphael was really the one who stayed, and they both knew why.
Raphael adored Jayden beyond all reason, but he was grateful there could never be more. No one in Savannah had piqued his interest in that way, at least not seriously, and it meant nothing about his home would ever change. Not for the worst. He’d been abandoned enough as it was.
“Do you want to get out of town this weekend? Get your mind off everything?”
Raphael gave him a flat look. “You don’t have time to take a vacation, and neither do I.”
Jayden sagged against the wall, propping one foot up behind him, his arms crossed tight over his chest. The way able-bodied people moved fascinated Raphael, even after all these years of existing amongst them. He couldn’t help some days but wonder what it would be like to just fold himself into shapes without any effort. What would it feel like to lift and bend his leg and not have to think about six different ways to hold himself or how he’d get back up if he fell?
He had never been bitter, just curious—as he’d been about everything in life. He might have done better at school if academics had fascinated him there the same way watching the world did. But Raphael liked his life. He didn’t feel like he missed out on things because he hadn’t fought his way up the same path others walked without barriers. He liked Savannah. He felt settled there, and cared for there, even with a body like an old, battered house with a contract reading As-Is.
“I could watch over everything if you want to take off. Cancel your hair appointments and book some extra facials,” Raphael said after a beat. He didn’t want to see that look in Jayden’s eyes that spoke of defeat and world-weary resignation. He wasn’t great at everything, but he could do some things.
“This is just the universe telling me to hire more people,” Jayden complained. He walked alongside Raphael’s chair as they moved back to the desk, and he caught sight of a timid woman hovering in the foyer.
“Pedi,” Raphael muttered.
Jayden grumbled, but he had been the one to insist they needed a wider salon menu. “Go for it.”
“Her?”
“The appointments,” Jayden said. “If you won’t take a load off, I might as well do it for the both of us.”
