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And Raphael fell. His knees and shins were perpetually bruised, but there was a reason he always used one of his mobility aids with Rian—because he wasn’t ready for this either. He caught himself, as he always did, on his hands. They hit the floor with a resounding smack, and he heard Rian’s footsteps start and then stop.
“Chris hated when I rushed in,” Rian said after a quiet beat. “Do you want help up?”
Raphael shook his head, then crawled toward the edge of the coffee table to give himself a boost. His pride was more battered than his knees, but he was still reeling from what Rian said. “What do you mean, are we okay?”
Rian sighed, scrubbing a hand over his hair, disordering his soft locks and going pink under his faint smattering of freckles. “I shouldn’t have stayed. At the salon,” he clarified as he sank onto the sofa.
Raphael chose the chair, giving into his need for physical distance while this whole thing played out. “Okay.”
“Jayden told me you’d had a seizure, and he said you’d call me later, but I wanted to stay and help. I…it wasn’t my place.”
Raphael bowed his head. “Well, you’re not going to hear an argument from me.”
Rian chuckled softly and nodded. “Yeah, I figured not. I just…God. I wanted to be there for you. You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length, and I just wanted to show you that I’m not going to walk away because…”
“I’m disabled?” Raphael offered, and there was bitterness in his tone he didn’t try to hide. “I appreciate the sentiment, because people do walk away. Sometimes for my CP, or for my seizures. Sometimes because my eyes are not sea green or I’m too short or not blond.” He waved his hand with a harsh laugh. “Shit happens, and it’s fine. But I don’t want you to stay inspiteof all this.”
“That’s…I’m fucking this up,” Rian said. He fidgeted, then he rose and swiped his hands down his jeans. “I should go.”
Raphael bit the inside of his cheek. His emotions were on edge, more than usual. He couldn’t tell if Rian wanted a gesture, wanted to be asked to stay, or chased off, but Raphael didn’t have it in him to pander to those needs. He could be a good partner—loving, attentive, intense, caring. He could be all of those things, but he wouldn’t soften his edges about this.
If Rian wanted to stay, he’d have to be able to stay with or without his own guilt when he fucked up. So, didn’t move, and he listened as Rian’s footsteps reached the door. And then they stopped. And then the door opened.
Raphael bowed his head forward and closed his eyes, and it was a mark of his still-pressing exhaustion when a hand dropped on his shoulder and startled him so badly, his heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of his chest.
“I’m doing this all wrong,” Rian said.
Raphael stared up at him.
“You’re not ready for anything serious, and I told you I was fine with that, and then I showed up here to…” He let out a slow breath and then glanced away. “How can I fix it?”
Raphael wasn’t sure, because no one had ever turned back once they walked away. No one had ever asked him what he needed. He wanted to be able to let go, to move forward, to maybe even let himself love this man because Rian was good, and he deserved it.
He let his eyes drift closed, only for a breath of a moment, and Dmitri’s face was there. His smile, his faint laugh, the way his eyes crinkled in the corners. The way his hands were soft, but Raphael never let himself know just how tender they could be.
But Rian was actually there, not just a specter. He wasn’t good enough—not yet. But maybe, with time, he could be. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
Rian’s entire body sagged with something like relief, and he dropped to his knees, placing flat palms on his thighs. “Yes. Can I cook?”
Raphael hesitated. “It’s a little complicated…”
“I bought a cookbook.” He fumbled in his pocket for his phone and, a second later, had a brightly colored e-book cover with vegetables and berries. “It’s for keto. I looked up a ton of reviews to make sure it was like the proper one for epilepsy and not just dieting.”
Raphael let himself smile, and he took Rian by the wrists and squeezed them. “Okay. Would you like to kiss me?”
“Just a small one?” Rian asked.
He wanted to give more, but he wasn’t there yet, and he wanted to be fair to himself. “Just a small one.”
Going higher on his knees, Rian’s hand cupped Raphael’s cheek, then he leaned in. It was small, chaste. It was warm and soft and by far not nearly the best kiss he’d ever had, but certainly not the worst. It was a livable kiss, and maybe he should accept that and stop waiting for fireworks. Maybe his star-crossed love had already exploded, and all that was left behind were the clouds of dust.
“Get comfortable,” Rian said after pulling away. He rubbed his hands up and down Raphael’s thighs and then pushed himself to his feet. “Prepare to enjoy my mediocre attempt to woo you.”
* * *
And in truth,that’s what it was. It was mediocre. It was a vague attempt at a chicken paprikash with roasted zucchini in place of rice, and it was lacking in salt, and the sauce was too runny. But Raphael couldn’t find it in him to complain with the hopeful look in Rian’s gaze.
“I would let you cook again,” Raphael said after a beat.
