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He bled the words in heaving, gaping wounds inside, but he meant them. He meant every single one of them.
“So, tell me what to do,” Rian begged.
Dmitri nodded. “It’s going to start with a lesson in patience, and after that, it’s going to start with a lesson in food.”
“That sounds simple enough,” Rian said, almost like he was suspicious of Dmitri.
“It is. And that’s probably what you’re missing. Raphael doesn’t need anything complicated. He just needs to believe that he’s worth it.”
“Well, he is,” Rian said.
Dmitri bowed his head. “Yeah. I know.”
15
Not every instanceof déjà vu was a seizure, but when Raphael’s cheeks and fingers began to tingle, he knew. His last coherent thought was one of frustration. It had been four weeks and six days—and he knew none of his treatments were a cure, but he wanted more time before another.
Somewhere in the background, he heard himself calling for Jayden, and he wasn’t sure how he got to the massage room, but he woke on the table with the heating blanket turned on and a warm, wet towel over his eyes. There was a faint hint of jasmine, but Jayden knew better than to turn on any of the diffusers because the smells overwhelmed him right after he woke up.
His head was fine, until he tried to move, and then it felt like someone had driven a spike through his temple. The tears were inevitable, from the pain, from the fact that when he wriggled his legs, he realized that he was in lounge pants that didn’t belong to him. He smelled soap, and under that, a faint hint of urine. Nothing new—nothing different.
And it had been four weeks, but it wasn’t enough.
He tried to stop himself, but his breath came out in a big, heaving sob, and it was loud enough to draw someone to the door. It slid open, and the sound was grating, so he buried his face in the pillow and braced himself for touch.
He was over-sensitive. There were only a few people in his life who know how to touch him the right way when his nerves were all on edge and on fire, but these hands were not one of them. They touched too hard, too fast. Fire prickled at him, and he groaned, trying to pull away.
“Hey.”
It took him a second to place the voice. The fog was heavy, settling over his awareness, and fatigue weighted his limbs. He wanted to be home. He wanted Luca. He wanted Dmitri, but even in this state, he never asked for him. He didn’t wantthisman.
“Stop.”
“Raph, it’s Rian. Can I get you anything?”
The voice wasn’t simpering, but it was close, and Raphael felt a surge of anger. Part of him—what was left of his ability to think rationally—knew he was being unfair. But that part was a quiet whisper against the raging storm inside him that had no tact, no care, no kindness.
“Can you get the fuck away from me?”
There was a beat, and the hand touched his neck, and Raphael tried to push him off, but his limbs felt like bricks. His fingers twitched, and his legs were left with tremors from the seizure forcing his body to tense every muscle.
“You’re speaking German, and I didn’t get that far, babe. Can you…”
“Luca,” he said. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, forcing his hand up to drag the cloth over his forehead. “I want Luca to take me home. Jayden,” he said, and he was fairly sure most of those words were in English.
“I…okay. Hang on,” Rian said. Then the sound of the door sliding—still too loud—left him in silence.
It didn’t take long for Jayden to come in, and he did a quick assessment of Raphael before leaning in and brushing a kiss to his temple. “Luca will be here soon, but Rian said he’s happy to take you home.”
“How long?” Raphael asked. His tongue felt heavy, and he was steps from sleep.
Jayden’s fingers were a little softer, but not soft enough as they brushed hair back from his forehead. “It was less than a minute long, and you’ve been sleeping about two hours.”
It wasn’t his first seizure at work and it wouldn’t be his last. He attempted to wriggle his foot, and there was some response, so he’d be able to get into his chair at least, and Luca could get him home after that.
“Rian’s still here. He didn’t want to leave you,” Jayden murmured.
“Fuckhim.” The words just came out with venom and anger, because he had no control, and it made him furious. His throat tensed like he was going to cry again because he had been robbed of the choice of when Rian got to see this part of him. And it wasn’t Rian’s fault, he knew that. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. He sniffed, and his cheeks felt wet, and Jayden brushed the tears back.
