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Daniel hated summer in New York.
It wasn’t just the heat, or the crowds of tourists that flocked to the city and jammed up the traffic for a few torturous months. It was the time change that bothered him. He already had so few hours with Armand, and daylight savings caused the days to stretch longer and longer before Armand was finally released from the pull of daylight. It was early August and every evening the sun set around 8:00pm, which was far too late for Daniel’s taste.
Granted, Daniel was basically nocturnal at this point– his days and nights had flip-flopped tenfold since Armand came into his life, and his circadian rhythm was suffering some serious consequences. It didn’t exactly bother him anymore. It was far more distressing to think of a world where he slept while Armand was awake and wandering. Part of Daniel was still afraid Armand would slip out the door and disappear into the night like he had so many times before, during those first few years playing cat and mouse in Europe.
So Daniel stayed awake to the best of his abilities and started to grow semi-accustomed to Armand’s schedule. I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Daniel always joked to Armand, who never found that jab particularly funny.
In the summer, Daniel normally woke around 5:00pm and fucked around town, buying a new pack of cigarettes for the night and scrounging up some half-assed meal to sustain himself throughout their evening plans. And because it was Armand, there were always plans. Even spending a night in the apartment couldn’t be done without some elaborate scheme, some freaked out order of operations that only made sense to him, usually involving the dissection of various forms of machinery.
Last week, Armand had entered a vacuum phase. Suffice it to say that Daniel hadn’t known peace since. By now the constant whirring of the vacuum motor and the tinkering of tools had become some kind of fucked up lullaby, soothing Daniel to sleep in the strangest places– sprawled across an armchair, on the floor by Armand’s feet while he worked, one cheek pressed against his thigh. Lately, those first couple of hours he had on Armand before the sunset were Daniel’s only reprieve from the mechanical melody that had begun to pavlov him into slumber.
It was nearly 6:00pm on Tuesday night— Tuesday, Daniel was pretty sure it was Tuesday– when Daniel stepped out onto the stoop of his and Armand’s apartment. It was one of those mild nights where the humidity receded into the thick of the city and left his neighborhood blissfully cool. A gentle breeze stirred the air and Daniel briefly considered going back inside to grab a light jacket before heading to the corner store, but he thought the better of it. The walk always warmed him up.
He felt in his pocket to make sure his keys were there, lest he forget them as his scatterbrained mind was typically wont to do. They clinked and rattled in his pocket. Satisfied that he’d remembered, Daniel hopped down the steps boyishly. These days, he had a little skip in his step. Blame it on domestic bliss– of having this little home with Armand in the city, a newfound sense of stability after years of running, being in love...Yes, in love. The thought alone warmed him.
Before Daniel could go any further, he stopped in his tracks cartoonishly and appraised the familiar man blocking his path. For a few brief seconds, he silently stared at him in an effort to place him. He wore scuffed loafers, a pair of skin-tight bell bottoms, and a ringer t-shirt with “29” embellished on the front, although the number seemed to hold no particular significance. A denim jacket was slung over his arm and the front right pocket of his jeans bulged from where he’d shoved a pack of cigarettes into it. Marlboro Reds. Realization quickly dawned on Daniel— maybe it was the cigarettes that jogged his memory.
“Tommy, hey,” Daniel said, forcing an awkward smile. He teetered back and forth on his feet from heel to toe, a nervous tic that Armand had tried and failed to correct. Daniel suspected he’d grown fond of it by now. “What brings you to the city?”
Tommy grinned toothily. “I ran into your old man at Weinstock’s a few weeks ago. You know, that new department store that just opened over on Dale Road?”
Daniel nodded, even though he had no idea. He hadn’t been back to Modesto in years now, not since before Armand.
Tommy continued, “God, I hadn’t seen your dad in years. I told him I was heading up to New York for a couple of weeks this summer to visit some friends and he mentioned you were here. Your mom gave him your address, and he passed it on to me. Told me I should look you up when I got to town.”
Daniel hummed in acknowledgment and pressed the toe of his shoe into a crack in the sidewalk, dragging it back and forth until it was scuffed. His mom must’ve shared the news of his move with his dad after the last time they talked. They called sometimes, if only to maintain some semblance of a connection. Daniel had no real problems with his mother– although she wasn’t perfect, she had always been the better parent.
“Well– what was he buying at Weinstock’s?” Daniel asked dumbly.
He wasn’t sure why he asked– he didn’t really care about what his dad was getting up to these days. Maybe just to fill the conversation and ease the suffocating awkwardness that started to prickle at his skin. His fingers twitched, a phantom movement of anchoring himself with a cigarette that wasn’t there.
“Does it matter?” Tommy barked out a harsh laugh and rolled his eyes. He extended an elbow and jabbed it playfully into his chest, and Daniel had to bite back a wince. “So literal, this guy. Say, why don’t we grab a drink and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to since you skipped town?”
Daniel opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with some excuse not to prolong this interaction. Each time he racked his brain he came up empty. He cast a brief glance over his shoulder at the closed door of the apartment. With Armand still sleeping in some secret crypt for another few hours, he truly had no plans. The notion that his life was purposeless without his lover was a simmering, intrusive thought in the back of his mind that he pushed away.
“Uh, sure,” Daniel mumbled, resigned. He’d definitely need a drink if they were going to keep talking. His fingers twitched again. “I’ll just, uh…”
“Lead the way,” Tommy said, and sidled up beside him.
Daniel had no particular bar in mind. He led Tommy a few blocks south of his apartment, maneuvering around groups of people that packed the sidewalks. They made pleasant, forced chit-chat. Tommy caught Daniel up on his life over the past few years. Apparently he’d been smoking a lot of pot and working at the grocery store back home on McHenry, courting some girl named Deborah.
“Not all of us can leave home to be a big shot reporter like you, you know,” Tommy teased, but Daniel sensed some bite to the comment. He didn’t bother telling Tommy that he wasn’t exactly a reporter, not anymore, although he did continue to interview the odd person he came across on his adventures with Armand.
Daniel stopped at the first bar he came across and sighed in relief— he could practically taste the alcohol budding on his tongue, the sweet relief from this awkward interaction almost dulled by that familiar buzz.
“This place is as good as any,” Daniel said, pushing the door open. Tommy followed behind him and let the door swing shut with a loud bang that drew some disgruntled looks from a few nearby barflies. It was a shabby little dive, with sticky linoleum floors and unflattering neon lights that made all of its patrons appear washed out and slightly frightening. Tommy didn’t seem to mind.
“What are you drinking, man?” Tommy asked, and flashed Daniel a grin. “Don’t tell me– PBR?”
No, Daniel definitely needed something stronger than the cheap beer he and Tommy used to steal from his dad’s garage if he was going to make it through this sad drinking session with a guy from his past that he didn’t particularly like.
“Vodka soda,” Daniel responded robotically, not missing the amused glint in Tommy’s eye, like he was holding back a snide comment. “I’ll grab us a table.”
He slid into an empty booth along the wall and watched Tommy approach the bar and order their drinks. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen him– had to’ve been in high school. He vaguely recalled having a calculus class with him, and staring at the back of his head with barely concealed hatred and a little misplaced lust. That same feeling, sans lust, nagged at him now.
He hadn’t always felt such animosity towards Tommy. They’d been friends once, a long time ago; had met while playing on the same little league baseball team. Tommy’s dad, Jack, was their coach– a nice, boisterous man with a beer gut, crooked teeth and a gentle smile. He worked at the local electric plant and had gone to the same high school as Daniel’s dad. They became fast friends when they realized the connection.
Daniel’s mom liked Sherry, Tommy’s mom, well enough, and so they sometimes had dinner together after their baseball games. The grown ups would talk and laugh for hours, leaving Tommy and Daniel to wander off and make their own fun. They played cops and robbers, and sometimes games of pick up with the other neighborhood kids at the park down the street. Back then, Tommy had been fun– a daring, rambunctious kid, perpetually ruddy-cheeked and talking a mile a minute. His playful energy complemented Daniel’s own shy and gentle nature, and they were thick as thieves.
Friends. They had been friends, that’s true. A long time ago, anyway. By eighth grade, they’d started sneaking beers and cigarettes from Tommy’s dad’s stash of Marlboro Reds and sneaking out to smoke them together and fumble around in the dark. Daniel had to grit his teeth and shake his head to clear the memory.
Tommy returned to the table with a beer for himself and set Daniel’s glass in front of him. Immediately, Daniel picked up the glass and downed it. He suddenly wished Armand was there to drag him away and into the night.
“Whoa, man,” Tommy laughed and sipped his beer. “Okay, it’s gonna be that kind of night.”
“I’m gonna get another,” Daniel muttered, and stood up as soon as Tommy slid into the booth across from him. He darted over to the bar and ordered a second drink, trying to ignore the feeling of eyes burning into his back.
The memories came in a torrent, unbidden. He remembered the summer before freshman year, when he and Tommy started to feel like more than friends. There was never any explicit communication between them beyond the wordless groping and clumsy tangle of limbs, their lips messily connecting in the safety of the dark when they’d have a sleepover. It never went any farther than that; they’d been too young.
But not too young to wish for something more meaningful. Daniel didn’t know what to make of the feelings at first. Probably, he should’ve felt shame– he remembered a few biting comments about the sins of homosexuals in his youth, could even recall the grimace on his dad’s face when they were on a trip to San Francisco once and saw a gay couple holding hands on Market Street. But Daniel didn’t mind that he found himself liking boys sometimes. Even as a child, he understood it was something innate. It was never a source of shame.
Naively, he’d assumed Tommy felt the same way.
“Here you go,” the bored bartender drew Daniel from his thoughts, sliding another glass of whiskey across the bartop towards him. He barely caught it with his hand before it could slide off the counter and shatter on the ground.
“Thanks,” Daniel muttered, and turned to walk back towards Tommy, who was smiling kindly across the bar at him.
Tommy was still handsome as ever, broad chested and muscular, his biceps straining faintly underneath his t-shirt. Yet while sitting across from him and making small talk, Daniel struggled to reconcile the distaste he had for Tommy now with the attraction he’d felt towards him when he was a kid. The memory had been polluted, and the feeling so foreign now it might as well have belonged to someone else.
The alcohol helped him push through the discomfort he felt at being near to him after all this time. It had been years– perhaps he was a better person now. Daniel believed in second chances; Armand always told him he was forgiving to a fault. But even so, he struggled to extend this same kindness towards Tommy. Uneasily, he peered over Tommy’s shoulder at the clock on the wall above the bar. It was barely half past six. Armand would still be in coffin.
“So, how’s your mom?” Daniel asked blankly. This was safe territory– Daniel had always liked Sherry. She felt like an extension of his own mom, a woman with a warm countenance and big, disarming eyes. Sometimes she picked Daniel and Tommy up from school and took them to the bowling alley just so they could play in the arcade for a few hours. In hindsight, it was probably a good distraction for the kids and allowed their parents some quiet time to relax without them. Daniel smiled at the thought.
“She’s good, man,” Tommy said, nodding. He sipped his beer perfunctorily, casting an unreadable glance around the room before his eyes settled on Daniel again. “She retired a couple years back. Still keeps in touch with your mom. They get together for lunch every month or so.”
That was more than Daniel could say for himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down to have an actual meal with his parents– probably before he’d left for San Francisco and had his big knock down, drag out fight with his dad. The strained, awkward interactions between the three of them that had characterized his final years in their house didn’t exactly make for a happy living situation. Still, something warmed Daniel in thinking about his mom.
“Good, that’s good,” Daniel said. “I’m glad they kept in contact after–”
The words died in Daniel’s throat, and he turned bright red under Tommy’s scrutinizing gaze. He wished he could manipulate time and shove the words back into his mouth.
“Well,” Daniel said again after an awkward pause, sensing the need to break the silence before Tommy could, but there was nothing else he could say.
Tommy huffed out a humorless little laugh and sipped his beer again. He gazed down at the table for a moment, nodding his head at nothing in particular.
“After you and I stopped being friends, you mean,” Tommy finally murmured.
Was that regret Daniel saw in his eyes? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Something stirred in his chest, a dormant feeling of sympathy for Tommy. Maybe he had changed, after all.
“Yeah,” Daniel replied evenly and looked down at the table. He pushed a drink coaster around absentmindedly, tracing the ring of condensation that cut across the heavy paper material. Agonizing, this– to be sitting across from the first boy he’d ever liked, who had hurt him so terribly. He felt the memory as if it had wounded him yesterday.
Daniel had always been a sweet, thoughtful child– blessedly unashamed of bestowing affection on his mother and grandmothers, taking love wherever he could find it, which was usually from female relatives. The men in his family were traditional, boys-never-cry types, who coached Daniel on having a strong handshake and encouraged his early interest in sports. Typical masculinity of the 50s. These influences did little to dissuade Daniel from his gentle nature– the very nature that led him to express his feelings to Tommy one summer evening before they entered high school.
It was Tommy’s fifteenth birthday, and Daniel met him at the movie theater to catch a rerun of some old school horror flick that Tommy vaguely mentioned having interest in.
Already, their connection was beginning to wane as they got older and their interests started to diverge. Tommy leaned heavily into sports while Daniel was more interested in reading and writing, the hobbies of a budding reporter. Clueless as to how he could bridge this growing distance, Daniel admittedly clung to the notion of their friendship as much as he could. Perhaps he sensed in some way that Tommy intended to leave him– and whatever they had– behind once high school started.
But that night felt blissfully normal– a return to simpler days, the ones that sustained Daniel’s affection for Tommy. As they sat beside each other in the theater, knees brushing, Daniel’s face burned when Tommy propped his elbow up on the armrest, so close that he could feel the heat emanating from his shoulder. Tommy turned to him and smiled softly, then looked back at the screen.
Daniel worked up the courage to say it all night. On their walk back home, past strip malls and grocery stores and the Dairy Queen, he listened to Tommy ramble about the movie and tried to get the words out. It was only when they made it to Tommy’s street that Daniel paused and stared down the row of houses. The porch light of Tommy’s house glowed faintly in the distance, a few yards off.
“What gives?” Tommy asked when he noticed Daniel had stopped walking. “You don’t wanna come over? My mom made a cake. She’ll probably put candles in it and stuff and sing... It’ll be stupid but she’s a pretty good cook.”
“No, I want cake,” Daniel assured him, his voice cracking. He grimaced at the sound and looked down at his feet, slightly teetering back and forth from heel to toe. “I just wanna talk to you about something.”
Tommy furrowed his eyebrows. His gaze went cold with his uneasiness. “What about?”
Daniel sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, then took them out again, struggling to find purchase and steady his racing thoughts. “I–I…” He trailed off, losing the nerve again.
“What, Daniel?” Tommy groaned impatiently. “Come on, don’t do your stupid shy thing now. Just tell me what’s up.”
“I like you,” Daniel blurted out before he could regret it. He turned away so his back was to Tommy, heart racing and a cold sweat pricking at the back of his neck. He couldn’t face him, it was too much. Too intimate.
For a long moment, Tommy said nothing. Daniel counted the seconds to ground himself, but time slipped away, and the floor felt like it was going to drop out from underneath his feet and swallow him whole. It was torturous.
A burst of wild confidence found Daniel turning back to face him again. “Aren’t you going to say something?” Daniel begged.
Tommy looked up at Daniel, eyes hard and impassive, and his hands were trembling at his sides where they were balled into fists. He was tall, had hit his growth spurt a few months ago, and towered about five inches above Daniel, who felt unspeakably small under his glare.
The anger in Tommy’s body language wasn’t registering to Daniel. Maybe Tommy was just nervous? He waited. Tried again.
“It’s just…” Daniel trailed off quietly. “When we kissed, I thought–”
Something hard knocked Daniel flat on his back. He came to, blinking wildly, and his body clenched with the need for air that he couldn’t seem to find. He took deep, gasping breaths, and for a moment all he could do was stare up at the pitch-black sky. Modesto had so much light pollution; you could hardly see the stars.
It took him a moment to realize that Tommy had hit him. Punched, to be specific. A hot, throbbing ache settled underneath Daniel’s eye, pain radiating outwards and causing his head to pound. He was stunned long enough that he couldn’t raise his hands in defense when the next hit came– a foot digging into his ribs, then again at his side, each blow hurting worse than the last. Daniel coughed and turned over onto his side, raising his hands to cover his face in a futile attempt to cower away.
“You’re a fucking freak,” Tommy grunted, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I would never kiss you. That’s disgusting. You’re nothing but a fucking freak that my dad forces me to hang out with because you have no other friends. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you–”
Misguided anger, Daniel knew. But it didn’t hurt any less. He waited Tommy out, taking each hit with little more than a cry of pain, drifting somewhere far away in his mind. He couldn’t relax until he identified Tommy’s footsteps thundering down the street. Distantly, a door opened and then slammed shut.
For a while, Daniel laid in the street and stared at Tommy’s porch light in the distance. Part of him thought it was some kind of joke, and maybe Tommy would come back out and say gotcha, and then they could eat cake together and be happy again. But Tommy never came, and his porch light turned off after another few minutes of waiting.
The rest of the night was slightly fuzzy. Daniel didn’t remember how he’d managed to drag himself home, but he could recall with perfect clarity the way his mother had screamed when he’d come through the door, bruised and bleeding. Even his father, who didn’t seem to care for Daniel most days, was on his feet in a second and demanding to know who had done this to him.
Daniel made up some lie about running into some kids from school on the way home and getting into a fight. Tommy was fine, he told them, the fight happened after he’d left his house. His dad seemed to believe it easily enough. Daniel’s mother had her suspicions, but she never pried, and that had been the end of it.
Daniel’s injuries healed. High school started, time passed. It was like Tommy had never been in his life at all.
But now here he was, all these years later, like some ghost coming back to haunt him. Daniel nearly laughed at the thought and downed the rest of his drink.
“Daniel,” Tommy said softly. “I’m s–”
“Stop,” Daniel cut him off and shook his head. “I’m going to need another drink if we’re going to get into this. No– drinks, plural. Stay here, I’ll get you another, too.”
Coping with alcohol wasn’t ideal, but Daniel thought the situation warranted it. And rehashing the past seemed easier when he was four, five, six drinks in. He and Tommy settled into a genuinely pleasant conversation after the initial awkwardness subsided. Daniel was content knowing Tommy was sorry– forgiving to a fault, he didn’t even need Tommy to say the words all the way. Soon they were laughing and joking, sharing stories about their lives.
“Remember Alex B. from little league?” Tommy asked around the mouth of his fifth beer. He was holding in a laugh, his face turning red from the effort.
“No, who– wait, yes!” Daniel chuckled. “The one with the headgear. He was a nice kid, but man, I feel like he had those braces on for a solid decade.”
“Yeah, yes!” Tommy exclaimed, slapping his hand on the table. “He so did. He had them forever. Well, he just got engaged. He got his college girlfriend pregnant.”
Daniel furrowed his eyebrows and sipped his drink. The alcohol had warmed him, and it felt fuzzy and electric inside of his body, a dull pulsing under the skin. “College girlfriend?” he asked.
“Yeah, some chick he met at the JC,” Tommy confirmed. “They’re getting married this fall.”
“Ah, shotgunning it,” Daniel said. For some reason this made him think of Armand, with his impassive gaze and warm-red curls, and Daniel smiled. He hadn’t mentioned Armand to Tommy– wanted to keep Armand a secret just for himself, so no one else could take a part of him away.
Tommy laughed like Daniel had said the funniest thing he’d ever heard, then stood up and grabbed the empty cup from in front of Daniel. “Hey, you want another?”
“Sure,” Daniel smiled up at him, pleasantly buzzed. Kind of healing, this– mending fences with an old enemy. Replacing the horrible memory with a good one. He couldn’t wait to tell Armand about this surprising turn of events.
There was still another hour until the sun set, and Daniel was starting to feel anxious to get back to the apartment. He liked to be there when Armand woke up for morning snuggles. Well– night time snuggles.
While Tommy was gone, Daniel sighed and looked curiously around the room, moved by old journalistic instincts. He studied some of the bar patrons– mostly middle aged men and a few guys that looked about his age. Nothing too exciting. A yawn pulled itself from his throat and he blinked back a brief wave of exhaustion that rolled over him. One more drink, and then he could go back to Armand.
A few minutes later, Tommy slid back into the booth across from Daniel and handed him the vodka soda with an easy smile. “So, you must tell me,” Tommy began, voice wavering across levels of loudness with his growing state of intoxication. “How’s life as a reporter? Interview anyone interesting lately?”
Daniel smiled and took a big sip of his drink. His hands were clumsy with his own tipsiness— some of the liquid rushed at his face and dribbled down his chin, and Tommy reached out and swiped away the stray droplets with his thumb. Daniel froze.
Sudden anxiety gnawed at him and made his stomach flip. Had he misread this entire situation? Perhaps this wasn’t the reconciliatory meeting of two friends after all. The thought that Tommy might be here under romantic– or sexual– pretenses hadn’t even occurred to him. Best not to jump to conclusions. Daniel shook his head to clear the thoughts, but the movement only made him dizzier.
“Uh,” Daniel stumbled over the word, trying to remember the question. What had Tommy been saying? Interviewing, yes, interviewing. “No, not really. It’s been kind of a slow summer.”
Tommy’s eyes flashed with amusement and something else– something unreadable. Did Daniel know that look once? Impossible, now, to remember. “You could interview me.”
Daniel flushed and took another long pull of his drink until the cup was half empty. “Um,” he muttered shyly, unsure of what to say.
“Come on,” Tommy groaned dramatically and laughed. “We haven’t seen each other in years. Ask me something. Maybe I’ll have a good answer.”
Heat crept up the back of Daniel’s neck and settled uncomfortably over his chest. Something in his gut tugged– an intuitive warning, or just a reaction to the alcohol? How many drinks has he had now? One, two, three…He lost count. Fuck, Armand was going to be so pissed if he slept through tonight’s vacuum symphony.
“How did you and your girlfriend meet?” Daniel blurted out. “Deborah, right?”
Tommy swiftly maneuvered around Daniel’s attempt to change the direction of their conversation. “No, don’t ask me about her,” he laughed. “Ask me something interesting.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes slightly, sensing the weird shift growing between them with growing unease. “You don’t find your girlfriend interesting?”
Tommy’s smile looked weird and lopsided in the dull wash of light from the overhead lamp, and Daniel was unsettled by it for a moment. “I never said she was my girlfriend.”
“You said you were going out,” Daniel said slowly, like he was tasting each word in his mouth.
“Sure,” Tommy said with a curt nod, blinking hard to shake the pull of the alcohol. “Back home in Modesto, we’re going out. But right now I’m here with you. And I want you to ask me a better question.”
Daniel’s breath stuttered in his throat. When he spoke again, it came out whisper-soft. “I don’t understand. Is there…something specific you’re wanting me to ask you?”
Tommy’s responding grin was wolfish, large and animated. “Ask me what I’m doing here, Daniel.”
“What, uh…what are you doing here, Tommy?” Daniel muttered, staring at the melting ice in his cup. Something sick and cold coiled in his stomach, sloshing around until he was nauseous.
A warm, clammy hand reached out underneath the table and settled in between Daniel’s thighs, testing. The tensing of his body was automatic, each nerve ending shocking to life with waves of panic. Daniel froze.
“I wanted to see you. I missed you,” Tommy said, splaying his fingers out and brushing them against Daniel’s lap. “I still think about you, about when we were kids. Do you ever think about it?”
“Yeah,” Daniel whispered shakily. He pushed Tommy’s hand off of him and slid backwards in his chair, desperate to put some distance between them. “I think about you beating my ass and laying me out in the street.”
Tommy blew out a puff of air and sighed, digging the heels of his palm into his eyes. He rubbed at his skin for a second and laughed a little. “Come on. We were kids, man.”
“I wouldn’t have done it to you,” Daniel found himself answering. All the leftover, unresolved hurt he felt from the situation was beginning to pile up, forcing itself to be acknowledged. Embarrassed tears prickled in his eyes, and he hung his head to keep Tommy from seeing them. “It was fucked up. You really hurt my feelings.”
Daniel knew he should leave– should tell Tommy to go fuck himself and finish this conversation once and for all. But he felt so unspeakably small all of a sudden, as if he was reduced to the kid he’d been when everything between Tommy and him had happened. His wounded heart wouldn’t let him get up and go.
“That’s why I’m here!” Tommy said, suddenly loud. The abrupt shift in volume made Daniel jump. And then Tommy was scooting forward, finding Daniel’s thigh with his hand again. “To make it up to you. I came to fix it. Fuck, you look so beautiful right now. Will you let me– fuck, can I just–”
Daniel shook his head and batted Tommy’s hand off of him. “I–I think…I need…Bathroom–”
Daniel’s head swam as he jerked up from his seat and stumbled across the room, towards the dark hallway where the single-stall bathroom was. He could feel Tommy on his heels, knew he was being followed, but the nausea was rising up so strongly now that he didn’t care. He burst into the bathroom and made for the toilet, hands trembling.
“Are you okay?” Tommy asked. He shut the door behind them and slid the lock in place. The metallic clink set Daniel on edge immediately, and he spun around to face the entryway, pushing back the growing feeling of sickness. It receded as quickly as it came, outweighed by his growing fear.
“You can’t be here,” Daniel mumbled, shaking his head vehemently. “Tommy, I don’t…The stuff that happened when we were kids, just forget it, okay? I don’t care anymore. But you have to leave. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”
Tommy’s face soured. His ability to turn on a dime, from caring to enraged within a second, was so familiar that Daniel was struck with a wave of resurfacing memories. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I–I have an–” Daniel stammered, his brain short circuiting as he tried to find the right word. Tommy’s stare was piercing, and he shrunk under the intensity of it. “Armand. I have…Armand.”
Boyfriend felt like too small of a word to describe Armand. He was everything, so special to Daniel that they needed to invent a new word just for him.
“A boyfriend? Well, he’s not here now, is he?” Tommy murmured as he advanced forwards. Daniel’s body reacted instinctively, jolting backwards until his waist collided with the lip of the sink. His pulse jumped, heart hammering in warning. Armand, he thought desperately. Armand, Armand. As if the name itself could protect him.
“No, but…” Daniel trailed off, recoiling from Tommy’s hand as it rose and brushed against his cheek, sliding downwards until it met his neck. The touch broke something inside of Daniel, extinguishing his fight so swiftly it scared him. Gone was his ability to speak, to protest– the words became lodged in his throat, as trapped and rigid as his body.
A frustrated burst of heat prickled along Daniel’s skin. The desperation to move, to fight back, was an animalistic force clawing uselessly up his spine. But he was frozen in place, his body ignoring the desire to retaliate. The betrayal was infuriating, but impenetrable.
“I don’t think you have a boyfriend,” Tommy said with a soft smile. He pressed his thumb into the center of Daniel’s throat, a calculated, obtrusive push. His remaining fingers collared themselves around the back of his neck to pin him in place. “We’ve been drinking together for hours and you haven’t brought him up once. Are you lying to me, Daniel?”
No! No, I have a boyfriend. I have one, I have–
The realization that Tommy couldn’t read his mind brought Daniel’s train of thought to a screeching halt. He relied on the telepathic communication with Armand so often that he admittedly slipped up sometimes when he was with others, responding to conversations mentally before remembering he needed to say the words out loud. It made a hot flush of color creep up his cheeks and Daniel had to avert his eyes as the words eluded him once more.
Tommy tightened his grip on his neck and jerked his head up until they were eye to eye. Daniel could feel every disgusting, clammy crease of skin on his hand, and the nausea rose again.
“Look at me,” Tommy urged him, his voice punishingly sweet, a sick contrast to the rough hand coiling around his neck.
Daniel blinked up at him and exhaled shakily, trying to urge his body to move. His lower lip wobbled with the threat of tears, but the sensation was dull and sidelined, an inevitable consequence of the moment.
In front of him, Tommy was sweat-slick from the alcohol and shaking. Too drunk. The fluorescent light overhead washed him out, and he appeared feverish for a moment. Daniel fought the urge to shut his eyes and go someplace else in his mind.
Just say stop. Just push him away. Fucking move, fucking fight him…
Daniel whimpered and the first tear rolled down his cheek.
“Don’t cry,” Tommy said, reaching out to thumb at his face. Daniel flinched but couldn’t evade the touch– there was nowhere to go. His shoulder blades collided with the mirror, muscles throbbing with the effort of leaning backwards over the sink. “God, you’re gorgeous. I’m dying to fuck that pretty mouth.”
A ragged sob tore itself out of Daniel’s throat. The words finally inspired some movement, and he peeled his hands away from where they were unconsciously gripping the sink to give Tommy a hard shove. He stumbled backwards, drunk enough to be stunned, while Daniel attempted to weave around his body.
“Don’t do that,” Tommy growled, his hand catching Daniel’s wrist as he made for the door. In an effort to gain more leverage, he reached blindly for any part of Daniel he could grab– his fist closed around the cotton of his t-shirt, but it slipped between his clammy fingers.
A small struggle ensued. Daniel jerked his arm backwards and in a stroke of luck, caught the side of Tommy’s jaw with the sharp point of his elbow. It wasn’t enough to really hurt, but it stunted him enough that he freed Daniel’s wrist and brought a shocked hand up to cradle the hit. Daniel made quick work of the lock on the door, his fingers trembling so terribly that he couldn’t grasp it fast enough.
The effort was aborted when Tommy came back to himself. He wrapped one hand around Daniel’s offending elbow and buried the other in his hair, gripping so tightly that Daniel’s scalp prickled with a white-hot pain. He yelped in surprise and his hand slipped from the door, shooting out to throw blind punches in Tommy’s general direction.
“No, no,” Daniel cried out, quieter than he meant to. The scream he’d hoped to project was stuck somewhere inside of him. He fought uselessly against Tommy’s hands, shaking from the raw panic. Blindly, he kicked his leg backwards to strike another blow and was victorious when his heel caught Tommy’s shin.
“Daniel, stop fucking–” Tommy groaned in what could’ve been pain or anger; likely a combination of both. He cut himself off with the effort of maneuvering Daniel over the sink and shoved him down, face first, one hand in his hair and the other moving to press against the small of his back. The sheer strength of Tommy’s push sent Daniel’s face flying into the metal faucet, crushed against the hot-cold water knobs. “Stay still!”
A sickening crack rang out. Daniel’s vision turned white for a few startling moments, then faded back in, albeit blurrily. The pain that came was hot and sharp, spreading out wildfire-quick across his nose and forehead. He groaned and blinked down at the sink drain, staring dazedly at the droplets of water that clung to the rim. His left eye was fuzzy and hot, pooling with unshed tears.
Briefly, he worried he might’ve broken something– it was the only thought that managed to surface through the fog, and then he was back under.
“Armand,” Daniel whispered stupidly, his hands twitching from where they were constricted behind him. Pinned at his back, he realized as he tugged uselessly against the weight of the grip that pressed them down against him. Dully, he was aware that his shoulders had begun to ache from the compromising position, but a new sensation eclipsed that worry.
His pants were being pushed down his hips.
The moment the jeans pooled around his feet, Daniel screamed– blindingly loud. The pain in his face retreated entirely, fading into a dull echo undercut by the blood that rushed through his ears. Overwhelmed by raw adrenaline, the sensation collapsed in on itself.
The scream was enough to shock Tommy. He jerked away from Daniel with a disgruntled “Fuck!” and lost his composure for a few long moments, blinking hard, his head swimming with the alcohol. But for all that Daniel screamed, it didn’t do him much good. The rush of fear and confusion was so strong that it delayed his motor functions– he stayed bent over, trembling and weeping, his tears rolling straight from his cheeks into the basin of the sink. Finally, it registered that the crack he’d heard was his glasses snapping in half. They were in a crumpled, useless pile beneath him.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” Tommy grunted as he advanced again, placing a hand on the small of his back. “You scream, yet you’re laying here waiting to be fucked.”
Fingers hooked into the waistband of his briefs. Daniel’s ragged breathing turned eerily still, falling in sharp, quiet huffs from his wobbling lips. The panic that had gripped him seconds ago slowly filtered out, stealing the jarring sensation from his body and replacing it with a deafening numbness. It was simultaneously cold and warm, a faint buzzing that tingled upwards from his fingers to the tip of his nose.
Daniel’s mind went last– briefly, deliriously, he worried about their open bar tab, wondering who would pay it after this. Then his thoughts went silent and still.
“Are you okay in there?” A voice called. It sounded so far away, muffled and uncertain.
Tommy ignored it. He muttered to himself as he pulled the briefs a fraction of an inch down Daniel’s hips. The slice of cold air that hit his exposed skin barely registered. On their own accord, his hands jolted up to reach back and bat weakly at the intrusion, clumsy fingers attempting to grab his own waistband. The sound of Tommy’s ragged, drunken breaths filled the waiting silence.
Daniel shut his eyes and sank into the distorted, out of body feeling, letting it protect him. His mind conjured the image of Armand, peacefully asleep in his coffin, his curls a muted red in the dark.
Just as his briefs joined his pants on the ground, a few insistent, muffled thuds crashed against the bathroom door. The voice outside bellowed, “Get the fuck out or I’m calling the cops!”
Tommy let go. As soon as his hands left Daniel’s skin, the out of body feeling receded entirely, and Daniel was yanked back into reality. It felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on his head, startling his awareness into the present moment. He choked on a gasp and clung to the sink for stability as the door popped open, his mind wearily tracking the sound of rushed footsteps and a shuffle of bodies.
“Fucking asshole–”
The bartender stumbled backwards with the force of Tommy pushing past him, and Daniel jolted upright on a sudden blinding burst of energy. He pushed away from the sink and took a frantic, miscalculated step that had his jeans tangling around his legs. One moment he was upright and the next he was face down on the floor, having caught himself on his elbows by pure reflex. Probably it would hurt later, but for now, he was so high on the adrenaline of escape that he barely felt it.
The confused bartender from earlier poked his head in and groaned, throwing a hand over his eyes before he could make out the damage. “You guys can’t fuck in here. That is so uncalled for, man.”
“Sorry,” Daniel whispered. He winced at the sound of his voice, at how wrong it was, raw and wracked with nerves. His hands vibrated with tremors as he yanked his pants up and stumbled to his feet, catching himself on the sink as his knees wobbled.
“Woah– fuck, dude, are you good?” The bartender asked when he finally dropped the hand shielding his eyes. Daniel couldn’t imagine what he looked like, trembling and disjointed, clothes wrinkled. “You’re bleeding, like, a lot. Your face is fucked up. Do you want me to call someone?”
“I’m fine,” Daniel said, and sort of meant it. Despite the adrenaline, his earlier sense of calm persisted, wrapping around him in an invisible blanket. For some reason, it occurred to him to look down at his feet and check to make sure his shoes were still tied. They were– four perfect bunny-eared loops, unaffected by the entire scene.
“Are you sure? You don’t–”
Daniel’s legs were moving before he realized it, carrying him out of the bathroom and into the bar. The sound of the bartender’s shocked concern faded into the background as he made for the door. At last, his body was working the way it was supposed to, despite how robotic the movements felt. Just as he was about to exit, he turned and placed a few bills from his wallet on the table. Enough to cover the drinks.
Outside of the bar, the sky was cloaked in the saturated orange of late-afternoon. The sun would set in another fifteen minutes or so, but for now, the world still hummed with activity. Pedestrians and bicyclists skittered past, their movements appearing abnormally slow to Daniel as he headed in the direction of their apartment.
His brain went back to feeling blissfully empty. It should’ve been startling, but he couldn’t help feeling grateful for the lack of noise in his normally overactive mind. Armand was always saying how loud his thoughts were. What a treat it was to be silent at last.
He completed the walk home in a daze of blurred footsteps, wiping his knuckles along his face to collect the wetness that seemed to trail from his nose in an endless stream. It took longer than it should’ve for it to register that it was blood, a fact that only settled in when Daniel dropped his hand and saw the shock of crimson covering his fingers.
Armand would smell it on him the moment the sun went down. The thought very nearly disturbed Daniel’s eerie sense of calm, but he pushed it to the back of his mind and ignored the stares of confused passersby with ease. I look fine, Daniel thought to himself. I’m fine, I look fine. Nobody’s staring, I’m fine.
When their apartment came into view, Daniel patted his pocket absently and dug his keys out. With an easy turn of the lock, the door clicked open and Daniel slid inside, closing it behind him with an unintentional slam. The brief spell of drunkenness had completely faded, snuffed out by his panic. All that remained was a lingering sense of anxiety, a pull of nausea that rose and fell every few minutes.
His feet carried him the short distance from the entryway to the bathroom. Once inside, he shut the door and let himself sink into the tile, pressing his back against the closed cupboards. He liked it here– the bathroom in their apartment was small and narrow, and when he was enclosed in it, there was something comforting about the tightness of the space. He’d always been calmed by small spaces when panic struck. Today was no different.
A sudden, uninvited sob ripped through Daniel. He put his head between his knees and felt his shoulders shake with the force of his tears. His ears rang and the throbbing of his head made his vision cut in and out from sheer panic. With a heavy, trembling exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force his body to relax.
He wanted to breathe like Armand taught him. It made Daniel laugh the first time they’d tried; funny to think of a creature who didn’t need air encouraging him to regulate his own breath. But it wasn’t funny now, not when he was gasping and struggling to inhale, his lungs constricted with the effort.
The sun would set any minute now. He had to pull himself together before Armand woke up– for the moment, he let himself be consumed by the panic attack. It was comforting, in a way, because all his energy was focused on thwarting his symptoms. At least it kept him from thinking about Tommy.
He couldn’t– wouldn’t tell Armand. He’d fucking freak. He had been so happy and domestic lately. Moving to New York had been stressful. Armand liked it in London, that much was clear, and although the move had been a mutual decision, Daniel sensed that he missed it. Probably because it was their first home together, and Armand was mourning the loss of it. He was funny like that. Sentimental. It made Daniel’s heart pinch with adoration.
But there was the issue of the mind gift. Armand always had unparalleled access to Daniel’s thoughts. Normally, Daniel didn’t mind. It felt…intimate. Comforting, knowing that Armand knew him so completely and still loved him. There was rarely a time where Daniel longed for privacy anymore. But now he needed it like he needed air.
Briefly, foolishly, he considered running away.
The thought made his sobs intensify. He didn’t want to run away– he didn’t want to be apart from Armand for even a second. Running away was something he didn’t do anymore. It would devastate Armand. No, there had to be a better option.
Daniel mentally paged through a list of half-assed excuses for his absence and came up short every time. There wasn’t a lie Armand was likely to believe. Even without the mind gift, he could read Daniel like a book.
Daniel’s tears slowly subsided as his mind became distracted with the task of inventing a story. The sobs had made the ache in his face multiply tenfold– his nose throbbed with every pulse of his breath. It sent heat and pain shooting outwards across his skull and his skin pulled uncomfortably from where the blood had dried, crusted and red around his mouth and cheeks.
He was too scared to look and assess the damage. Without facing it, he could trick himself into thinking Armand wouldn’t notice, either. It was just a bloody nose– those could happen out of nowhere. Nothing to be concerned about. Nothing to see here.
Daniel exhaled shakily and shut his eyes. He let his body tilt sideways and slowly sag against the floor. For some reason, his shoulders ached. The muscles were tense and stiff, like wire that had been pulled too tight, and his lower back wasn’t feeling much better. He catalogued each ache and pain and tried to think of a way to explain the injuries that made sense.
Well, it wouldn’t do him good to sit there any longer. He had to face his injuries and make some attempt to treat them. Maybe if they were cleaned up a bit, they’d be less shocking.
On shaky legs, Daniel pushed himself up and retrieved the first aid kit out from the bathroom cabinet. Without his glasses, his own vision of himself in the mirror was slightly blurred, but not so much that he could ignore the damage.
Begrudgingly he wet a washcloth with antiseptic and gently dabbed at the underside of his nose, cleaning up the bloodstains. Next he attended to the cut that stretched across his forehead from where it collided with the sink faucet. Each drag of the washcloth made his skin throb with increasing pain.
Despite being a bit swollen, his nose was still intact, and didn’t appear to be broken. Even so, it wasn’t likely to stop Armand from freaking out and dragging him to the doctor for an x-ray. Daniel sighed and dropped the washcloth on the counter, blinking back the tears.
After he’d cleaned up his mess from the bathroom, Daniel made his way around the house, drawing all the blinds and throwing curtains over them for good measure. Each room was bathed in total darkness with the hope that his injuries would appear less frightening if the lights were extinguished. By the time he’d turned off every lamp in the apartment, Daniel’s body ached with the strain of being on his feet. He felt suddenly exhausted, and sore all over, despite only being hit in the face. Granted, falling on his elbows hadn’t helped, and each movement sent pain shooting up his arms.
Finally, Daniel sank into the couch and drew a blanket up over his legs. Switched on the TV to a random program and pretended to be absorbed in it, as if he wasn’t vibrating with nerves at the thought of Armand’s arrival. He curled into a ball, digging himself deeper under the blanket, and tried to quiet his thoughts, take them somewhere nicer. It didn’t work. Not really. Every other thought was intermixed with images of the dirty bathroom, of the water in the sink, the feeling of hands pinning his arms behind him.
Daniel shook his head like he could physically clear the thoughts. He trained his eyes on the TV, curled his knees up to his chest, and waited for the sun to set.
***
From the moment the sun relinquished its hold on Armand, he could feel the shift in the air. Daniel’s sense of panic and fear were so strong that they stretched out across their blood bond, transporting the sensations directly to Armand’s chest whenever he attempted to tap into their connection. It was enough to send him directly to their apartment, forgoing his usual ritual of feeding before he went home for the night. No, this– whatever it was, was much too urgent to be delayed.
Their neighborhood was buzzing faintly with activity when Armand arrived, carrying himself quickly down the street and up the steps to the apartment. The sound of Daniel’s insistent, throbbing heartbeat was immediately apparent, its sound so soothing that some of the tension eased out of Armand’s shoulders. Daniel was here. He was safe. Safe at home. That had to count for something.
The tick of Daniel’s pulse stuttered and jumped when the front door opened. Armand found him inside, curled up under a blanket and facing the TV. The house was cloaked in darkness. Only the artificial, blue-white glow of the television illuminated the space.
It was immediately apparent that Daniel was attempting to hide something. He never kept the house this dark. Moreover, an anxious sense of dread radiated off of his body in sharp waves, punctuated by a humdrum of incoherent thoughts. Armand could make out fragmented images– a cup of alcohol on a glassy bartop, the feeling of someone’s unwelcome hands. Each image was saturated over the other, an undistinguishable cacophony of anxiety.
For now, Armand withdrew from Daniel’s mind and studied his rigid form. His shoulders were tense and practically bunched up directly under his ears, fingers clasping the edge of the blanket and trembling with the effort. His body language gave so much away. When he noticed Daniel’s glasses were missing, something horrible twisted in Armand’s stomach.
“Are you sick?” Armand asked, tone careful and even.
Daniel’s heart was hammering when he responded. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. I feel fine, just…”
“Just what?”
Armand’s tone came out sharper than he meant it to, accent curling around the syllables like it always did when he was stressed. Daniel’s responding flinch was heartbreaking enough for Armand to recalibrate and reel in his emotions.
Daniel shrugged. Kept his eyes locked on the TV, angling his head slightly downwards and to the right. His lower lip wobbled and Armand grit his teeth.
He’d noticed the bruises straight away, of course. Impossible not to, with his accelerated vision. Still, the full picture was disguised by the way Daniel kept his face turned. Only the faint beginnings of distorted color were visible, smeared across Daniel’s cheekbone.
“It is eighty degrees outside, and you are using a blanket,” Armand said, softer this time, without surrendering the controlled edge to his tone. Daniel’s silence was infuriating. Even as concerned as he was, Armand couldn’t help the prickle of irritation at his refusal to be forthcoming with whatever had happened to him. But it was always like this– Daniel clamming up when something bothered him, and Armand having to carefully untangle his panic and ease him into fessing up.
Another shrug. Daniel drew the blanket up tighter, until the edge of it pooled under his neck. He was shivering.
“Daniel,” Armand said, voice strained with equal parts concern and anger. He kept his feet planted in the entryway, afraid to come any closer and take in the full scope of his injuries. “Look at me.”
Daniel’s mumble was a cross between a whimper and a groan. “No…”
Armand’s resolve, already wearing thin, was stretched to its limit– and finally, it snapped. He crossed the room in three long, purposeful strides, maneuvering around the coffee table blindly.
“Do you truly believe that you can hide such an obvious injury from me?” Armand asked tightly.
Daniel flinched away and, on instinct, pulled the blanket over his head. It was a stupid, childish move, but he couldn’t help it. Armand stopped in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Daniel. Remove the blanket this instant.”
“No,” Daniel said again, his voice wavering. Armand didn’t need to see him to know he was beginning to cry. His shoulders heaved under the blanket and little pained sniffles punctuated every breath. “I–I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Armand softened a fraction. He used his mind to bring light back into the room, turning on every lamp they owned. The apartment was bathed in a sudden flash of warm color. Then he knelt in front of Daniel and put his hands on Daniel’s feet, which were sticking out from under the blanket, covered in striped blue and purple socks.
“Beloved, please come out from under the blanket,” Armand tried again. Perhaps he’d come on too strong initially– this was typical of him. He had a short temper that was likely to flare up whenever Daniel’s safety was at stake. A consequence of his eternal, seventeen year old nature, he figured. Evolution and aging could only do so much to overwrite his age of death.
“It was just a stupid bar fight,” Daniel muttered weakly. The words came out too quickly, rushed and forced. Armand winced.
The lie was so poor, so half assed, that it was almost insulting. On his better days, Daniel was much more creative and inventive with his fibs. This shitty attempt was an added layer of mounting concern. But Armand thought to agree, if only to help Daniel relax. He nodded a little before he realized Daniel couldn’t see him, and murmured, “Okay. A bar fight. We can manage this. Now drop the blanket, Daniel. You cannot hide from me forever.”
Armand waited, clinging to what small vestiges of patience remained. When Daniel dropped the blanket, it was like a falling curtain. A choked sound of surprise started and died in Armand’s throat before it could come to fruition.
He noticed Daniel’s nose first– it was swollen but otherwise intact, and still cute as a button. But worse, the bruises that were growing on his cheeks and under his eyes, the periorbital area turning a dark blue-purple. He smelled faintly of antiseptic, as if he’d tried to clean himself up, and Armand could only imagine how bloody he’d been before attending to the cuts. Even now, a faint glimmer of blood clung to his nostrils.
There was a small gash along his forehead, raw looking but dry, and already beginning to scab. It wasn’t larger than an inch, but it was significant enough that Armand wondered if he might need stitches. Even more startling, perhaps, was his left eyeball, which had hemorrhaged from some sort of impact– the broken blood vessel made the whites of his eyes mingle with a small pool of red.
Armand was silent for a few long moments. Under his searing gaze, Daniel’s lower lip wobbled, and he kept his eyes cast downwards, avoidant as ever. He swiped gently at a few tears that dribbled down his cheeks and winced as his knuckles brushed against the growing bruises.
“Sorry,” Daniel whispered, voice thin and unsteady. “I–”
“Don’t,” Armand said tersely, swallowing hard. “Daniel, this is…”
“It was just a bar fight,” Daniel interjected, sniffing. Still clinging to the unbelievable lie. He wiped under his nose with the back of his knuckles to collect the tears and snot that were accumulating and his hand came away wet with blood. He wiped it on his shirt sleeve, and Armand didn’t even chastise him for the action.
Although he wasn’t certain he could bear it, Armand pushed past the swirling, panicked thoughts in Daniel’s mind and dug deeper. He paged through the memories of the past few hours within seconds, jaw jumping with barely contained rage at the images that flashed across his awareness– the bar. The conversation, Daniel’s recollection of his childhood memories with Tommy. The way he’d put his hand on Daniel’s leg and followed him into the bathroom. Worse, the way Daniel had internally yelled Armand’s name, like it had the potential to save him.
When each image had been assessed and catalogued for damage, Armand forced his face to turn impassive and calm, so as not to startle Daniel. He wanted to scream– to break something. To set fire to the entire block. But he couldn’t afford to let his rage overtake him, not when Daniel clearly needed him.
“A bar fight,” Armand said slowly, forcing the tightness in his jaw to recede. It turned into a dull, psychosomatic ache in the back of his head. “You got in a bar fight.”
Daniel, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, getting into a bar fight. Armand almost laughed at the notion, but there was nothing funny about the situation. Not even remotely.
“Yeah,” Daniel whispered, clearing his throat with a wet cough. “It was stupid. Just– some guy…ran his mouth and wanted to get, like…physical, he was angry, and I was just in the way, so dumb, it was–”
The narrowing of Armand’s eyes made the words jam up in Daniel’s throat. He dropped his head and sniffled again, unable to take the sentence any further.
In any other scenario, Armand wouldn’t entertain the lie. He almost stopped it right then and there– the urge to challenge Daniel and untangle his weak excuse was the dominant urge in his mind. But another part of him worried that forcing Daniel to acknowledge what had happened before he was ready would be worse, would make him shut down completely.
Even though Daniel was the worst liar he had ever met, Armand nodded, as if he believed the excuse unflinchingly. “These things…happen sometimes,” he murmured, swallowing back the irritation. “Unchecked male violence. A common symptom of your generation.”
Something loosened in Daniel’s chest. He knew Armand saw right through the lie. Probably, he’d already examined all the intimate details of the night and knew everything, down to the color of the bathroom walls. But for whatever reason, Armand wasn’t pushing. For some reason, it made Daniel cry harder.
“What are you going to do?” Daniel mumbled between his tears. He was reaching for Armand before he even realized it, one shaking hand beckoning him closer. Armand perched beside him on the couch and opened his arms. Daniel crawled into his lap and pressed his tear-dampened face into Armand’s neck. What he really meant was What are you going to do to Tommy? The sentiment didn’t need to be verbally expressed in order to be understood. He couldn’t stop himself from asking, even though it very nearly acted as an admission of his own lie.
Although Daniel was larger than Armand, his preferred seat of choice was always Armand’s lap. He snuggled in like he fit perfectly and felt some of the tension ease out of his body as Armand wrapped his arms around his back and rested his chin on his shoulder. He rubbed soft, gentle circles into Daniel’s back and shut his eyes.
Armand tried to ground himself– to distract from the growing rage that simmered inside of him, barely contained. He focused on the smell of Daniel’s hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo that smelt like green apples, and the way it mixed with the antiseptic and faint trace of alcohol. Gradually, it calmed him.
“I’m going to take care of you,” Armand murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Daniel’s shoulder. “I am going to clean your face, for you have done a terrible job. Then I will find your spare glasses and arrange for your dinner.”
Daniel shuddered through a final sob and tightened his arms around Armand. “Okay.”
Armand knew what he would do. But Daniel didn’t need to know. It wouldn’t do him any good. So he just sighed and pulled back slightly, tilting Daniel’s chin up with his hand and assessing his face again. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but the bruises already looked worse than they had mere minutes ago.
“No vacuums tonight,” Armand said resolutely. “You need your rest. I shall take you to bed–”
“No!” Daniel yelped, suddenly tense at the thought. Sensing the overreaction, he quickly corrected by dropping his voice to a tentative whisper. “I–I mean…what if we go out? And do something?”
Armand’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You want to go out? Tonight?”
A sheepish shrug, and then Daniel was trying to fight another wave of tears. “I just…I don’t know, I think that…”
A wave of anxiety burned hot across Daniel’s thoughts. Glimpses of fear-soaked images played in his mind– the horrifying visual of Tommy outside of the apartment, his easy smile. Your mom gave him your address, and he passed it on to me.
Sudden understanding dawned in Armand. Daniel was afraid. He worried that Tommy would come back to finish what he’d started– only this time, there would be no bartender to intervene. Just Daniel, alone at the apartment, waiting for the sun to go down.
The idea of being alone in the apartment inspired an earth shattering fear in Daniel. An enraged, animalistic sense of protectiveness rose in Armand’s chest as he caught the thought.
“I have a better idea,” Armand announced, pivoting naturally. “A spontaneous lovers’ getaway. We can go to that place upstate that you enjoy in the Adirondacks. Stay at the country inn on the lake. The one with the pillow chocolates. It is the perfect place to heal from your injuries.”
Sensing the immediate out and recognizing it as safety, Daniel nodded before Armand even finished his sentence. “Yeah. Yes, yeah, I want to do that. Can we do that? Please? Can we– could we go now?”
Armand pressed a soft, firm kiss to Daniel’s mouth. “I will pack your bag. We can be on the road within five minutes.”
Daniel’s entire body slackened with relief. He leaned against Armand, clinging to his waist and giving him a gentle, appreciative squeeze. Although he couldn’t speak, the gesture translated easily.
The ordeal took a little longer than five minutes, of course. Armand held Daniel for some time, carding his hands through his hair and scratching at his scalp, waiting until he was ready to move. Finally, he made off to the bedroom to pack Daniel’s bag. Although he would have preferred Daniel wait on the couch and rest, he didn’t protest when Daniel followed a foot behind him at every step, trailing him from bedroom to closet to bathroom and back again. He was feeling particularly clingy. It was sweet, even if the reason for his closeness made Armand want to destroy an entire planet.
In no time, they were in a cab, leaving the city behind. Utterly spent, Daniel slumped over the seat against Armand’s shoulder and fell asleep within minutes. Armand watched the blinking car lights start and stop in front of them for miles through the traffic.
He tried not to think about the visceral panic that had characterized Daniel’s memories of the night– the fear and how intimately he felt the betrayal of his own body as it refused to fight back against an insistent perpetrator. Tried not to think about how familiar it felt, like an old memory from his own life. The unacknowledged ghosts of his past whispered across his awareness, trying in vain to form a coherent picture, then disappeared altogether.
***
During their first night at the inn in the Adirondacks, Daniel had seemed startlingly normal– perfectly energetic and animated upon arrival, excited to be out of the city and in the cozy warmth of their lakeside accommodations. His injuries bothered him, and his arms were too sore to hold his own suitcase (he tried, despite Armand’s protests), but he had appeared otherwise undisturbed.
Armand knew it wouldn’t last, and it hadn’t. The behavior was merely a shocked burst of energy and denial. It was quickly whittled away to his initial panic and fear as the next day dawned. When the sun had set, Armand returned to the room to find Daniel curled up under the covers, mute and immobile. He’d fallen into conversation with Armand silently, refusing, though not outright, to communicate out loud. He responded to Armand’s every sentence with a non-verbalized thought until Armand eventually caught on and started communicating telepathically with him.
It was– well, not ideal. Armand missed the sound of his voice. Although some inflection and tone carried itself over in his thoughts, it wasn’t the same. He worried about Daniel, about his silence, and his persistent exhaustion. He slept through most of the day and didn’t leave the room unless Armand was there to coax him out. It wasn’t that he was worried he’d see Tommy there. Logically, he knew he wouldn’t. But there was something so soothing about being alone with Armand in a room, where he could see every point of entry and exit.
When he slept, he had anxious dreams. Tommy was never directly in them, but Armand suspected they were about him, in a roundabout way. Daniel dreamt that he lost his teeth, or his hair. The blonde locks would fall out in large clumps in the shower and clog the drain and Daniel would stare at them, hopeless to stop it. He woke up on edge and breathless, searching the room for an unknown threat. Only upon registering Armand’s presence was he able to calm down.
Each night, Daniel begged Armand not to leave before sunrise– just one time, stay here tonight, we can keep the curtains closed, please, please, Armand… Heartbreaking begging that would dissolve into a fit of tears, and Armand would hold Daniel until the sobs exhausted him.
He couldn’t stay. Daniel knew that, but it didn’t stop him from asking. It wasn’t safe for either of them, and there were certain measures Armand had to take to keep Daniel protected. Knowing this never softened the blow on either end. Each night at sunset, Armand fed, and rushed back to Daniel.
Most of the time, he arrived before Daniel even woke up. Then it was like he never even left at all, and Daniel stirred from sleep with a tired smile and silently crawled into Armand’s waiting arms, nuzzling his nose against his blood-warmed skin. You’re so warm, so warm. And Armand would hold him and rock him back and forth until he was ready to face the night.
It continued this way for a week or so. Armand would have been content to keep them there as long as Daniel liked– they never had to go back to the city, if Daniel didn’t want to. They could get a house upstate and live there until they were bored to tears if that pleased him.
Patiently, Armand waited for Daniel’s voice to return and nursed his injuries, the way he had grown accustomed to for many years now. He never tired of taking care of Daniel, although he despised the reasons for it. The urge to confess to Armand what had truly happened with Tommy lingered in the back of his mind, unspoken. Perhaps he would never confess. That was alright, too.
***
During their second week at the Adirondacks, Daniel’s voice came back to him. He awoke chatty and energized, feeling lighter than he’d been in days. Over dinner at the inn’s restaurant downstairs, he got wine drunk. Warmed by the alcohol and especially touchy-feely, he leaned the bulk of his weight into Armand’s body as they walked back to the room, pressing sloppy kisses to any part of his skin he could reach.
Once inside, Daniel clung to Armand, pawing at his chest to pull him closer. It was the perfect angle to bring him in for a sweet, passionate kiss. Daniel’s mouth tasted warm and rich from the wine, his breath hot and stoking Armand’s thirst. But the spell of comfort was broken so quickly that Armand nearly gasped.
It happened when Armand’s fingers hooked in the waistband of Daniel’s pants. It wasn’t done with the intention of pulling them down– it was only a grounding action, a restful movement meant to anchor Daniel and keep him close. But the reaction was instant. Daniel recoiled so violently that he stumbled backwards and lost his footing, falling flat on his ass.
Armand was at Daniel’s side before he could blink, kneeling with a tentative hand outstretched towards him. Daniel batted it away with shaking fingers. “Don’t,” he snapped, his lower lip wobbling slightly. “Just…Just fucking don’t, okay?”
Daniel felt awful as soon as the words left his mouth. It was an overreaction, a miscalculated attempt at fighting off a touch that had felt briefly, confusingly wrong. For a moment, those fingers felt foreign– like they belonged to someone else.
“Sorry,” Daniel whispered and ducked his head to hide the tears that pooled in his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t know why I…”
He did know why. But knowing didn’t make it any less frustrating. Daniel knew Armand wasn’t Tommy. But the feeling of his hands on Daniel’s waistband felt the same for a moment, a phantom sensation of the memory. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut and let out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a sob. Armand’s chest tightened.
“It’s quite alright, beloved,” Armand murmured. He sat back on his knees and stared at Daniel for a few quiet seconds, fighting the desire to wrap his arms around him and make it all okay. He dropped his hand, then raised it again– not touching, just providing the option. Slowly, Daniel reached out and took it, threading their fingers together. He sighed in relief. It was just Armand, after all.
***
On another night, Armand returned to the inn after sunset and found Daniel already awake and in the shower. The bathroom door was shut but sweating with condensation, and a thin trail of stream escaped through the crack near the floor. It bathed the entire room in an uncomfortable humidity, fogging up the windows and disguising the lake in the distance.
Armand noticed Daniel’s distressingly blank mind immediately. Without a second thought, he opened the bathroom door and was immediately engulfed in the swarm of wet, sticky steam. The atmosphere was so polluted that he had to squint to make out the shower door through the fog. Once located, he yanked the glass door aside and peered in at Daniel.
Frightened and unnerved, Armand’s voice came out harsher than intended. “What are you doing, Daniel?”
Daniel was standing under the stream of water, damp and sweating, his skin an irritated flush of red. His senses were so dulled that he didn’t even flinch when Armand reached out and turned the tap off.
“Daniel,” Armand murmured softly, and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. The touch seemed to cut through his brain fog marginally. He made a sound of acknowledgement somewhere in his closed mouth, but stared down at his feet. They were red and slightly swollen from the hot water.
Armand reached out to grasp Daniel’s chin gently, tilting it upwards until their eyes met. Daniel’s gaze was unnaturally empty, lips settled in a confused pout. “Beloved, it is too hot for you in here. Come, you must get out now.”
“I didn’t notice,” Daniel said slowly, each word sounding forced. He felt his feet move as he was led out of the shower and into the sweaty bathroom, where Armand retrieved a towel and began to dry him off. The brush of fabric against his skin brought him back to himself, bit by bit. He blinked a few times, scrunching up his nose and furrowing his eyebrows as the feeling returned to his face.
“What happened, Daniel?” Armand asked, cupping his reddened face. “Were you in there for a long time?”
Daniel lifted his shoulders in a weak shrug. He couldn’t remember– his memory cut in and out of awareness, untrustworthy. He recalled waking up and feeling the need to shower, but everything after that was a confused blur. The feeling of the water on his skin had been hot. Not unbearable, but enough to sting. It lulled him to a different place, somewhere far away.
“Okay,” Armand said quietly. “Okay. It’s alright, Daniel.”
“I don’t know why I did it,” Daniel whispered. He shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and his knees swayed with the effort of keeping himself upright. Armand eased him back into the bed and smoothed his hair out of his face, pressing soft kisses to each cheek.
Armand let Daniel skip dinner, even though it went against his every instinct. Daniel was too out of it to recognize his own hunger, and he drifted off in bed, half asleep.
“Armand,” Daniel whimpered. He reached out blindly to find him, with closed eyes. Armand grabbed his hand.
Armand swallowed hard and looked down at Daniel’s wobbling lip. “What is it, beloved?”
Daniel nuzzled his face into the pillow until it was wet with tears. I couldn’t stop it, he thought, over and over. His face pinched with tension as the cries gently rocked through his body. I couldn’t do it.
Armand wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear the thought– if Daniel was directing it at him, or inwards, and needed privacy to digest it. So he just sighed soundlessly and leaned down to kiss him again, rubbing his back until the moment passed.
***
On a chilly night in late August, Armand sat outside the inn by the lake, watching Daniel stumble over the rocky shore. He let the cool water lap over his feet and dug his toes into the sand, seemingly calmed by the sensation. The sky was denim-blue dark, but warm in a way that clung to the recent sunset, and cast the shadow of Daniel’s body across the rippling water.
“Be mindful of the tide, Daniel,” Armand called, unable to stop himself. There were signs by the shore warning about the potential of drowning, of deadly sneaker waves. Logically, he’d be able to jump in and save Daniel if a wave carried him away, but he’d prefer to avoid it.
Daniel laughed to himself and rolled his foot over a smooth, circular rock. The water disguised the sound, but Armand caught it all the same. “I wanted to swim,” Daniel said. “But I think it’s too cold now.”
Armand was at his side in a quick flash of movement. “You’d freeze to death.”
“That’s a little dramatic,” Daniel said with a fond eye roll. He reached over to bridge the distance between them, grabbing Armand’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “You’re like a neurotic parent.”
Armand nodded, pleased with the comparison. “I take your life quite seriously, this much is true.”
Daniel squeezed his hand again, then dropped it. His smile thinned out and slowly disappeared as he rolled the rock underneath his foot again, face pinched in thought.
“Armand,” Daniel said softly, his tone suddenly serious. “I…”
Armand held his breath, patient as ever. He listened to Daniel trail off and hoped he would finish the sentence.
“I didn’t…get in a bar fight,” Daniel whispered.
The weight of the words hung between them, simultaneously heavy and light. Daniel’s shoulders sagged with the relief of the admission, even as his chest tightened from a resulting sadness. It was a puzzling sensation.
Armand nodded slowly and let their fingers brush against each other. “I know.”
A strangled sound passed Daniel’s lips. He brought his hands up to rub at his eyes, a motion which was only minimally painful. His injuries were healing quite nicely. With a frustrated sigh, he sank down into the damp sand and brought his knees to his chest, tightening his own arms around them. Armand went next, sitting close enough that their knees knocked together.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel murmured. “I lied to you. It wasn’t fair.”
Armand would have none of it. “No apology is necessary. You are telling me now, which is more than I could have asked for.”
Daniel laughed wetly, brushing a stray tear off of his cheek. “I think I thought, if I didn’t say the words…” I could forget. Or pretend it didn’t happen.
Armand nodded. He understood– understood more than Daniel would ever realize.
“I thought it would go away,” Daniel whimpered. “It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much when he didn’t even– finish…the job.”
Armand’s throat tightened with the threat of tears. Wordlessly, he reached over and put his hand on Daniel’s knee, giving it a supportive squeeze. “Do not minimize what happened to you, Daniel. What he did was reprehensible.”
Daniel shook his head a few times, sighing. “I feel awful. And I’m scared and I fucking– I didn’t…”
Armand’s hand stilled on Daniel’s knee, body going statuesque in the way that always revealed his immortal nature. He frowned a little and tried to meet Daniel’s eyes, but couldn’t. Daniel was staring at his hands, picking at a hangnail that threatened to draw blood.
Daniel’s next words were spoken telepathically, the weight of them too immense to express out loud. His shoulders were shaking slightly as he tried to hold in whatever emotion was clawing to the surface. I didn’t stop it. I would have let it happen if the bartender didn’t come and threaten to call the cops.
A muffled, agonized sound caught itself in the back of Armand’s throat before it could be vocalized. He shut his eyes and trailed his hand up Daniel’s spine until he could feel the insistent thump of his heartbeat through his upper back. The sound calmed him only marginally, but it was enough.
“Daniel, look at me,” Armand murmured. Daniel didn’t startle at the sound of his voice as Armand had feared– he looked up with wet eyes, lower lip wobbling in the way it always did before he began to sob. His hemorrhaged eye had yet to heal completely, and the red splotch of blood mingled with the deep violet color surrounding his pupils. It made Armand ache something awful.
“Sometimes, the mind…” Armand trailed off, searching for the right words. “Turns off. Or tells your body to shut down. It can happen when you’re frightened…when something is threatening your safety. Your body, misguided though it may be, does this to protect you. It is not something that can be fought.”
Silent tears spilled over Daniel’s cheeks. He shook his head, disbelieving. I could’ve done something.
“You did do something,” Armand said. “You screamed, did you not?”
Yes, but–
Armand’s voice was firm and unrelenting. It was also disarmingly gentle in a way that only Daniel ever heard. “And you fought back. It was a valiant effort, beloved. More than most would be able to manage. You were very brave.”
Daniel’s shoulders curved inwards as a violent tremor pulsed through him. He was fighting back a sob. I didn’t say stop.
“Even if you had…” Armand trailed off, agonized. “He would not have listened. It did not matter what you did or how you responded. He was intent on hurting you.”
But I could’ve done more. I could’ve gotten up the moment he put his hand on my knee and walked out and I fucking didn’t. I could’ve stopped it–
Armand’s next words were soft, but insistent, offering no room for argument. “You couldn’t have known what he had in mind. It was not your fault, Daniel. Do you understand me?”
Daniel paused, expelling a stuttered breath. His eyes were shining with tears. Yeah. I guess I know. I understand. It’s just…I feel so…
Armand stroked a piece of hair out of Daniel’s eyes and smiled sadly. “You endured an unimaginable hardship, the likes of which no one should ever be subjected to. Yet you find the strength to carry on and greet each night with your precious smile. I am in awe of you, beloved.”
As soon as the words landed, the sob he’d been fighting tore itself out of Daniel’s chest. He leaned forward and buried his face in Armand’s sweater, weeping with abandon. The gravity of the fear and helplessness he’d felt in the moment dawned on him with startling force– the anger towards Tommy, past and present, and the betrayal of it all. The weight was crushing. Armand’s love made it bearable.
“I just keep thinking about things I could have done differently,” Daniel mumbled through tears. “Ways I could’ve tried to stop it.”
Armand nodded, like he understood completely. He wrapped his arms around Daniel and rocked him gently back and forth in time with the lake waves. “This is perfectly natural, I’m afraid. But with time, you will come to forgive yourself for your imagined guilt. I am here with you, Daniel. I will remind you every day that you are not at fault, if you need me to, until you start to believe it.”
Armand wished he could tell Daniel the feeling would go away forever at some point– that the painful history could be overwhelmed by time, and reduced to something of marginal importance. Yet even now, centuries later, Armand felt the weight of his own past, the way the memories existed in his body, unspoken.
Perhaps Daniel would have more luck in healing. Maybe he could eventually forget. After all, he’d already taken the first step to acknowledge what had happened to him. That was more than Armand could say.
Daniel nodded, sniffling hard and wiping his face against Armand’s sweater to dry his tears. “I feel a little better, saying it out loud. A little less…”
“Alone?” Armand tried.
“Yeah,” Daniel nodded, chuckling weakly. “How stupid is that?”
“It’s not stupid,” Armand murmured, kissing Daniel’s cheek. “Not stupid at all.”
***
Back in their suite, Armand waited for sleep to take Daniel, tracking the soft breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Even after he slipped into unconsciousness, it was difficult to leave. For an hour or so, Armand sat and watched him– he never tired of it. Daniel was his favorite. But there were things to do.
With a sigh, Armand rose from the bed and straightened out his coat, fastening the buttons. On the bed, Daniel was dreaming about swimming in the lake outside, laughing and splashing. It was the middle of the afternoon in his dream, but Armand was there, too, darting in and out of the water and smiling. As the water dripped from his skin, the sun reflected off of it, making each drop of moisture shine like gold.
Armand smiled at Daniel’s adorable, sleeping face. Then he stepped out and into the early morning darkness.
He’d been taking his rest in a nearby cemetery crypt. It wasn’t ideal, and he had to pick cobwebs off of his clothes every night before returning to Daniel so as not to alarm him. But before taking his rest tonight, Armand took to the sky– the cloud gift carried him up and over the vast expanse of the woods, back into the city, to New York.
When his feet touched the ground again, Armand moved with a purpose.
The motel was beige and nondescript– one of those unassuming places that you might find on the side of the road, cheap enough to hole up in for a few weeks without breaking the bank. Armand’s eyes scanned over each room, counting the brass numbers on the doors until he found number nine.
He didn’t knock. Didn’t have to. A trick of the mind worked the lock open, and Armand stepped inside wordlessly, letting the door shut with a soft click behind him.
Inside, Tommy was sleeping in bed, snoring loudly, one arm thrown over his face. His suitcase was tossed carelessly in a corner and wrinkled, dirty clothing articles were strewn haphazardly throughout the room. Some trash piled up in the nearby bin– mostly takeout containers, but lots of beer cans, too. The TV was still on. Without looking, Armand switched it off, bathing the room in darkness.
Something about the TV turning off seemed to startle Tommy to awareness. He groaned and turned onto his side, kicking at the sheets that pooled around his waist. No matter. Armand waited. He sat in the chair beside the TV stand and stared at Tommy, patient as ever.
Well, maybe not so patient. After a few minutes of waiting for him to wake up, Armand stood abruptly and approached the bed. Then, with a careful, controlled hand– because he didn’t want to kill Tommy this way– Armand sent his fist down on Tommy’s nose so hard that the bones in his face broke instantly, dozens of tiny, shattering sounds echoing throughout the room.
Tommy woke up with an agonized scream of pain. Of course, this wouldn’t do– Armand mentally reached inside his brain, searching for the place that controlled capacity for speech and sound, and pressed it like it was a button. His screams died instantly. Although the pain remained, Tommy couldn’t make a sound. He writhed on the bed uselessly, open mouthed, like he was trying to crawl out of his own skin.
He seemed to register Armand’s presence at some point, despite his obvious disorientation. He blinked up, wide eyed, with a grimace of unimaginable pain smeared across his features. Small, choked off gasps were the only noises that he was able to expel.
A brief, desperate thought cut through the pain as Tommy stared up at Armand. Who the fuck are you? What the fuck do you want? Please, please, help me. Stop it. Stop doing this. Please stop. I’m begging you to stop.
Armand smiled wryly. “You are fortunate, Thomas, that unlike yourself, I respect the desires of someone who wishes for me to stop.”
Stop, stop– what the fuck are you talking abou–
The room was engulfed in a sudden, blinding blaze of heat. It caught first on Tommy’s clothes, then carried over to the sheets, and soon, the entire bed was on fire. Armand could smell the burning flesh within seconds– could taste the bitter, ashen tang of it.
It was easy, after so many years of setting fire to fledglings, to do the same for Tommy. What had once been a task that took a concerted effort was now as easy as breathing. He only had to step backwards, put some distance between himself and the bed, and imagine the flames going up. They danced across Tommy’s skin now, charring every part of him.
With a sigh, Armand sank back into the chair and watched Tommy burn. He was dead within a minute, but Armand waited, staring at the blistering skin until he was nothing more than a pile of ash. When the flames were extinguished, he crept back out into the early morning darkness to take his shelter.
It didn’t fix things, killing Tommy, but Armand couldn’t help feeling unspeakably lighter.
Back at the crypt in the Adirondacks, Armand held the image of Tommy’s burning body in his mind, turning it over and over until he was satisfied. Then he thought of Daniel, of the swimming dream, and he drifted off at last, imagining that he could feel the lake waves lapping at their conjoined, embracing bodies. It was so warm in the sun.
***
“Hi, honey.”
Daniel smiled at the sound of his mother’s voice, crackling and distant through the shitty receiver. He was curled up in a chair by the radiator, feet resting on one of the many brown moving boxes that were scattered along the floor. This one was labeled BLENDERS. Daniel rolled his eyes fondly at the script and twirled the telephone cord around his finger.
“Hey mom,” he murmured, keeping his voice low. Armand was concentrating on taking apart the pipes in their new kitchen for fun, and he didn’t want to distract him by being too loud. It was a tenuous project already. “How are you?”
“Good, Danny, I’m good,” she chirped. Daniel could feel her smile, her warmth through the phone. She was always so eager to talk to him, even though they only managed to get on the phone together every other month or so. “We miss you over here. Your father says hi.”
Daniel’s eye roll was instinctual. Sure he does, mom. “Tell him hi back.”
A small bang sounded in the kitchen, and Armand muttered to himself imperceptibly. Daniel smiled, even though this whole Armand playing plumber scenario was starting to worry him. He was attached to safe, running water and the pipes that housed it. Sue him.
“Are you still in New York?”
Daniel nodded to himself. “Yeah, still here. I just moved into a new place. You’d love it. There’s a big park across the street. There’s all kinds of dogs and babies in strollers with their parents. It’s a nice neighborhood.”
Her next words, although happy, sounded a bit teary. “That’s just beautiful, Danny, it sounds like such a good fit for you. Gosh, I just miss you!”
“I miss you too, mom,” Daniel whispered, smiling sadly. It wasn’t a lie– he did miss his parents sometimes. But they’d never been particularly close, and much of his childhood had been tinged with sad, painful memories that had been perpetuated by both of his parents. Besides, Daniel loved his life now. He couldn’t be the person he wanted to be and still live in Modesto. Not in any lifetime.
They chatted for a while longer, talking about the news and the weather. It was early September, but already cold in New York, whereas Modesto was still dealing with a blistering heat. Classic Central Valley. It didn’t take long for the conversation to become stretched thin and awkward, the way it always did.
“I should probably go, mom–” Daniel started.
“Wait, honey,” she said. “I almost forgot to ask. You remember your old friend Tommy, from little league– have you talked to him lately?”
Daniel blanched and sputtered stupidly for a few long moments, searching for his words. His eyes darted over to Armand, who was tinkering away at the sink and pretending not to eavesdrop.
“No,” Daniel said finally. “I– why do you ask?”
The receiver crackled again. Daniel imagined his mom switching the phone to her other ear, balancing it between her shoulder and her cheek while she toiled away with some household project.
“Well, your dad saw him a few months ago at Weinstock’s. He said he was going to New York and we told him you were living over there, it would be great if you guys could catch up,” she said. “But I guess he didn’t make it back from New York.”
Daniel’s throat went dry and tight. “What do you mean he…”
“His mom called me up the other day,” she continued. “You remember Sherry. Well, she was just distraught, saying Tommy went to New York and was meant to return last month, but he never showed up. Says maybe he fell in with the wrong crowd. Dopers, you know. We heard he was doping here a lot. She called the hotel he was staying at and they were looking for him, too! Apparently he destroyed the room and took off before he could pay for the damages. That’s what drugs will do to you.”
Across the room, Armand continued his ministrations at the sink. Daniel stared at the back of his head, tracking each beautiful, red curl, and inhaled sharply. “Wow. Yeah, wow, that’s…That’s crazy. I hope he’s okay.”
His mom hummed absentmindedly. “Sure hope so. Gosh, I never liked that kid, though. Promise me you won’t start doping too, Daniel?”
Daniel chuckled wetly. He hadn’t even realized he was crying. “Yeah. I promise. Hey, I gotta go, mom.”
“Okay. Bye, Danny.”
Daniel let the news settle over him for a few minutes, staring out the window at the park. Tommy was gone. It was hard to believe, and felt almost fake. The attack felt so recent, although the sharp edges of it were already beginning to soften. Talking to Armand had helped him ease some of the weight of the assault. He still had his stress nightmares, and the occasional dissociative episode, but the fear was gone.
It helped that by the time they’d come back from the Adirondacks, Armand had already arranged for them to move into a new apartment, in a neighborhood far away from where they’d been before. It was a silent, supportive gesture, done with the intention of easing some of Daniel’s lingering worries about Tommy returning. They didn’t acknowledge it, of course. Armand passed it off as another one of his whims.
Although the change of setting helped, Daniel knew it would be a long journey. But already, he felt lighter, like he could come out stronger on the other side of this. And if there was any uncertainty, Armand would be there to help him through it.
Daniel waited until his tears had mostly dried up before going into the kitchen. Armand was crouched underneath the sink, his hair tied back messily at the nape of his neck, with his sleeves rolled up. He hummed in acknowledgment when Daniel knelt beside him but didn’t turn to look, pretending that he’d been too absorbed in his task to notice the phone call at all.
Daniel sat down and leaned against Armand’s back, resting his head between his shoulderblades. Finally, Armand paused whatever he was fiddling with to turn around and take Daniel in his arms, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks. His face had entirely healed from the ordeal with Tommy, and he was coming a long way mentally, too. Each day was easier than the last. He never felt unsafe when Armand was there.
“You are distracting me, lover.”
Daniel chuckled and nuzzled against Armand’s neck, kissing his weak pulse. “What did you do?”
Armand scratched behind Daniel’s ears gently, like he was a kitten, and Daniel’s eyes fluttered shut. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Yeah, you do,” Daniel whispered, smiling despite himself. He hadn’t wanted Tommy to die– there was a strange sense of sadness in it, even though he’d been so awful. It was still heartbreaking to imagine how differently his life could’ve gone if he’d been a good person. What wasted potential.
“My Daniel,” Armand murmured, sensing the direction of his thoughts, and kissed his nose. “You are far too kind hearted for this world.”
“So are you,” Daniel replied, laughing. “In your own way. Come on, tell me. What did you do to him?”
Armand pulled back to examine Daniel’s sweet face– his soft, imploring eyes and crooked smile. His heart broke open, raw and searing with passion, every time he beheld that gentle countenance. “Nothing, beloved. You heard your mother. He was…doping. Perhaps he met a natural end as a consequence of the drugs.”
“Right,” Daniel barked out a laugh. “Maybe he overdosed on all that weed he was smoking.”
“Perhaps,” Armand lifted a shoulder in a clueless, unaffected gesture. “Now, be a good boy and stop distracting me. Make yourself useful. Unpack a box.”
Daniel kissed him again, long and hard, until the wet glide of their tongues left him dizzy and distracted. When he pulled away, Armand was fighting a smile and losing.
“Love you,” Daniel mumbled shyly, smiling.
“I love you,” Armand replied, and pecked his lips once more, chastely. “Now run along, Danny.”
Daniel groaned and shuffled out of the kitchen, rolling his eyes. Silently, he vowed to never answer another phone call from his mother around Armand ever again.