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“Yep,” he enunciates bitterly, playing with the edge of the pillowcase.
“That’s, um, really good,”Ifumble out.Ihaven’t had time to figure out what comes after this part. “Thankyou.”
Witheyes full of deep, aching exhaustion, he rolls onto his side and silently lifts the blanket.It’ssuch a visceral relief to crawl in next to him and stretch out on my back with his forehead against my shoulder and his arm slung across my body.
Iwatch the shadows on the ceiling and listen to the pattern of our breathing, trying to make sense of the ache in my chest.BeckandIhave always been easy and fun, not razor sharp feelings in the dark and the faint taste of desperation on my tongue.Hemust feel it too, because he doesn’t drift off like usual.Aftertwenty minutes, we’re both still wide awake.
WhenIsigh,Beckfidgets and pushes his face deeper into my shoulder.Hisfingers wrap loosely around my wrist, brushing the delicate tendons.Forsome reason, my heart rate picks up.I’mafraid he’ll feel it in my pulse, soIclose my eyes and will it to slow down.
Myupper arm bumps against his chest.Afterall the hours we’ve spent cuddling as we watchedTV,Iknow his heartbeat better than my own.It’sfast, too, faster than mine.Squeezingmy eyes tighter,IimagineI’min the kitchen counting beans.One, two, three, four.
Hegrunts and shifts again, like he can’t get comfortable.Hisface falls into the crook of my neck, andIcan feel the tickle of his eyelashes as he blinks.Iopen my eyes, still picturing the reddish-brown beans that come in two pound bags for just a few dollars.
Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen.Histhumb slides down and traces a slow line across my palm, andIlose my place.Twentyfour, twenty five.
“I’msorry,Dal,” he whispers, his lips moving against my skin.
Igrit my teeth and glare into the dark. “Wordsdon’t fix anything.”
Hishushed voice breaks a little. “Noone’s gonna give a shit whenIdie.ButI’llmiss you so much.”
“Whatare you talking about?”Itry to pull my hand away, but he tightens his grip. “Scoutwould lose his mind.Roman, too.”
Hedoesn’t answer, and suddenlyI’mfurious.Thefour of us finally managed to claw some kind of happiness out of this miserable world, and the universe tried to rip it all away for no fucking reason at all.Myvoice sounds loud in the silence. “Iwon’t miss you,Beck.Iwon’t be able to.Whenyou die,I’llbe too ruined to feel anything ever again.Doesthat make you happy, you selfish dick?”
Asoft sound rumbles in his throat, halfway between a growl and a whine, as he rubs his face harder into my neck. “Yeah, it does.”
Mybody is starting to ache and thrum in ways that are so, so wrong. “Beck…”Hisname means so many things to me.Iyelp it whenI’mabout to slip and fall in the woods, so he can grab my hand.Imumble it into his chest whenI’vehad a terrible day and need to watchTVtogether in his bed.SometimesIhum it soothingly when he’s getting too loud and frustrated, so that he’ll look in my eyes and take a deep breath.Rightnow,Idon’t know whatI’msaying.
ButIdo know one thing.Iturn my face toward him, my cheek brushing his forehead. “Younever fucking leave me again.Understand?”
Hedoesn’t answer, just tilts his head back so our faces are barely an inch apart.Itwitch with a tiny whimper when his broad palm cups the side of my face and the rough pad of his thumb traces my cheekbone.Pushinghimself further up the bed, he wraps both hands firmly around my head, his forehead pressed to mine.Ican feel that he’s breathing fast. “Prettyboy,” he murmurs. “Youever kissed someone?”
“No.”I’venever told the guys thatI’ma virgin.Whenthey talk about sex,Ikeep my mouth shut and let them assume things.NowIlook like a fool.
Buthe just sucks in a breath, his fingers tightening. “Good.”
Hiswarm, strong lips capture mine without a second of hesitation.He’sused to tongue-fucking with strangers in gas station bathrooms or back alleys, but here and now he’s infinitely, unbelievably gentle.EventhoughI’venever tasted him before, everything about the spice and sweetness of his tongue in my mouth feels like coming home.
Betweentransitioning, homelessness, and stressing since puberty about how to have sex without a cis dick,Ikind of forgot about my first kiss.IfI’dknown in advance,Iwould have done research or something.I’venever been the least prepared person in a room before.ButBeckhasn’t pulled away, soImust be making him feel good.Thatthought sends a rush of fierce arousal through me.
Myfingers slide up his arm and squeeze his bicep, anchoring myself in the hard steadiness of his body.Whenhis muscles ripple and tighten,Irealize he’s flexing.Ibreak off with a breathless laugh. “Fuckingshowoff.Youthink that’s gonna impress me?”
Ican sense his cocky grin, even thoughIcan’t see it clearly.Hebends his arm untilIcan barely get my hand around his rock-hard bicep.Theheat in my belly slides lower, throbbing dangerously. “YouthinkIdon’t see you watching me whenIpick up heavy shit?” he teases next to my ear.
“It’sbecause you don’t lift from your knees andI’mwaiting for you to throw your back out.”
“Youdon’t deserve me,” he growls sulkily.Hegrunts in surprise whenIcatch the back of his neck and kiss him hard.Ihave no skill or finesse, just want.Thewant of almost losing him, of watching him try to make things right just becauseIasked him to.Thewant of every moment since he called me “raccoon boy” and offered me his last box of uncooked macaroni.
Myheart is thundering whenIfinally come up for air.Becklets out a rush of shaky breath against my cheek asIslide my hand up inside his loose tank top.Assoon asIspread my palm against the hard mound of his pec,Ican feel his pulse beating frantically. “You’rescared,”Iwhisper in awe.
Henuzzles his face roughly into my hair. “I’mnever scared.”
Pullingback soIcan see his eyes in the moonlight,Icurl my fingers into a fist over his heart. “Makeit two rules,Beckham.Younever fucking leave me, and you never fucking lie to me.”
Histhick eyebrows furrow solemnly. “Yes, boss.”
Pullingmy hand free of his shirt,Ihold out my pinky. “Swearit.”
