Perfection

by Gianni Holmes

  He wasn’t far from the edge. I deep-throated him, pulling gently on his balls, and he bucked his hips. Cum shot down the back of my throat. I waited until he was finished spurting, then released him from my mouth and swallowed.

  “Fuck, Ashton.”

  His hips lowered to the bed, but instead of us basking in the aftermath of our lovemaking as we’d so often done, he rolled off the bed, gripping the nightstand for support.

  “I need to wash up and get back to the coffee shop,” he said.

  Before I could offer to shower with him, he’d disappeared. I stayed in bed with his sheet wrapped around me. I surveyed the dingy little apartment and smiled sadly. I would miss this. But it wouldn’t be forever.

  His shower was quick, and when he came out, he went straight to his closet. He dressed in record time.

  “You can take a shower before you leave.” He faced me on the bed. “Just pull the door up on your way out, and I’ll be back to lock up on my next break.”

  In other words, he didn’t want me to stop by the coffee shop on my way out.

  He strode out the bedroom, and I ran after him naked.

  “Callum—”

  “Ash, please.”

  I stopped short at the way he stared at me. Maybe sleeping together one last time hadn’t been a good idea.

  “I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be out of touch for the six weeks I’ll be gone.” I felt ridiculous standing there naked while he was fully clothed. “It’s a requirement of being in the facility to limit external influences. I don’t want you to think that I’m avoiding you.”

  He nodded. “I understand, and I’m glad you’re doing this for you, Ash. Don’t…rush through your recovery to get back to us. Make yourself the priority. Being well…that’s all a…a Daddy could ever want for his boy.”

  He was gone before I could say anything to him, and all the time my heart ached just to call him Daddy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Callum

  “Hey there, Lola. Where’s Lulu?”

  I stared into the small fish tank, searching for the second goldfish that seemed to be hiding behind one of the fake ornaments. I shouldn’t be this concerned over a stupid fish I wasn’t eating, but they were Ashton’s pets he’d left behind the last day I saw him.

  We never truly discussed it beyond him stating he wanted me to take care of the fish when he was gone. We’d been a bit distracted in the bedroom. Then I’d run out fast before I could do something stupid. Like making empty promises.

  That night I locked up the coffee shop and returned to the apartment, I was half-afraid Ashton was still there. Instead, I found the small tank with his two goldfish with instructions on how to feed them. I’d never considered myself a pet person before.

  But now I was.

  The note he’d left on the fish tank had been simple. No mention of the way we’d fallen back into each other’s arms just hours before.

  Please take care of Lola and Lulu for me. I’ll be back in six weeks to get them.

  Love,

  Ash.

  It hadn’t taken a long time to figure out what leaving the fishes with me meant. He wanted me to believe he’d be back. That he was just gone for a short time, and when he returned, we could pick up right where we’d left off.

  I didn’t know about that. At first, I’d been annoyed that he’d left his pets. I didn’t know anything about fish.

  By day three, the fish had grown on me. The first thing I did in the morning was to check they were okay. I was scared that I’d do something wrong and one of them would die. I wanted to keep them alive for Ashton.

  I had this irrational fear that his recovery was linked to those two fishes and me keeping them alive.

  “Ah, there you are.”

  I dropped the presoaked pellets into the water. Both fishes swam after them as they sank to the bottom. I watched them feed for a few minutes, and when I was satisfied, I made my coffee, then got ready for the coffee shop.

  The days were pretty much back to the way they were BA. Long and unentertaining. I missed him, but I didn’t plan to wallow, especially when he was off to take care of himself for a change.

  I still had no idea if a relationship with him was feasible when—if he returned. It all depended on him and how dedicated he was to his recovery. In any event, I tried not to think too much about that but to get through each day.

  At midday, we closed up the coffee shop for the day. Since I’d already taken care of balancing the books, I made a stop at the bank to pay the loan we had on the coffee shop, then withdrew enough money for Mario’s hospice care for the upcoming month.

  At first, I’d resented handing over that money every month, but now it didn’t even register how much I had to spend. It was just another part of my life, something I’d made peace with over time. I’d always feel responsible for Mario, and as long as I was able, I’d pay for his care.

  I first made a stop at the administrative block to make the payment. The receptionist at the front desk checked the computer files, then frowned at me.

  “Um, may I have the name of the patient again?”

  “Mario Webber.”

  She kept glancing from me to the computer system. That was odd.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t think so. But next month’s payment has been settled.”

  “You must be mistaken.”

  She shook her head. “I double-checked. Mario Webber. In fact, his accommodations have been paid up for the next five years.”

  I blinked at her several times, the words taking a while to really connect. “Excuse me?”

  “A payment was made on his account two weeks ago.”

  My ears rang with the information. Light-headed, I gripped the edge of her desk. There had to be some other explanation than the first thought to cross my mind.

  Why would he do this?

  “Can you say who paid?”

  “I guess I can print another receipt for you since your name is on the account. It is your right to request another receipt.”

  “Y-y-yes,” I stuttered. “I’d like another receipt, please.”

  “Just give me a few seconds.”

  It felt like a whole year before she send the command to the printer, which was so damn slow. The start-up sound of the printer activating was loud in the room. It took everything I had not to snatch the paper out of the printer. I waited for her to remove it, check that everything was fine, stamp it, then hand it over.

  “Here you go.”

  “Thank you.”

  My eyes immediately went to the end of the document where his name was. Ashton Keyes. Next to it was the total amount he’d paid to cover Mario’s care for the next five years.

  “Are you okay, sir?”

  At the receptionist’s worried look, I nodded and forced myself to let go of her desk. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

  I had to find the nearest restroom to recover. The receipt was folded and tucked away in my pocket, but the name was burned into my retinas. The dollar figure too. It might not have seemed a lot to Ashton, given what he was worth, but the monthly fees here at the hospice depleted my savings each month.

  Now my earnings from the coffee shop were freed up. For the next five years.

  Another way for him to let me know he’s sticking around?

  The overwhelming gratitude and freedom of taking on the burden of Mario’s care alone outweighed the pride that would have me reject his assistance. It never even once crossed my mind that he was trying to buy my love, my dedication to him. He already had it. And if that were the case, he would’ve done something stupid like buying me another television or a car or a house.

  Instead, he’d done something that he knew I really cared about.

  Once I had a hold of my emotions, I left the bathroom and checked on Mario. He was outside with a caretaker reading to him.

  “Please continue,” I said to the caretaker, who started to get to his feet to give us
some privacy. I still needed a few minutes to gather my thoughts before I could handle Mario right now.

  “He’s fallen asleep,” the caretaker said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Do you want me to bring him back to his room?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  I followed them back to Mario’s room, standing aside while the caretaker lifted him from the wheelchair into the bed. While he adjusted the sheet around Mario’s slim legs, I glanced around the room. A bookshelf I never noticed before was in the room and filled with books.

  “Are they introducing new furniture?” I asked.

  The caretaker glanced from the bookshelf to me. “Oh, that. No. A young man ordered it and the books for him. Paid me cash to read to him each day and play some videos for him.”

  “What videos?” What else had Ashton organized? I had no doubt this was all his doing.

  “On this.” The man opened the drawer of the night table and took out a phone. He pressed some buttons and passed the phone to me. “You know, Mario’s really lucky to have two people who care so much about him. Some patients here haven’t received a visit from family or friends in years. If you need anything, reach out to the front desk.”

  The man left, but I barely noticed. My legs felt weak enough for me to locate the chair in the room by Mario’s bedside and to sink into it gratefully. I held the phone for a long time, just staring at it. Should I press the Play button for the video?

  Curiosity won out in the end, and I opened the last video, dated with yesterday’s date. Ashton’s face filled the video as he righted it, then went over to a bed to sit. My eyes greedily took in everything I could about him. His red-rimmed eyes as though he’d been crying and his cutoff T-shirt, which left his midriff bare. He wore shorts that showed off those killer legs of his.

  “Hey, Mario,” he said with a tight smile. “I honestly contemplated not making this video today, but if it’s one thing I’ve learned since I’ve been here is that routine is good. So although today was a tough day, I think I want to talk about it.”

  He grabbed a glass of water on the bedside table, which gave me time to study him and to let it digest that he’d been sending videos to my ex. From what he said, he made them daily.

  “Today my therapist got me to talk about my childhood,” he said, still holding the glass of water. “God, there are so many things I didn’t know affected me while I was growing up. I may have blocked out some of it, but it turned out I might’ve been—no, I was emotionally neglected by my parents as a child. No wonder I’m so needy, you know.” He gave a short laugh. “It’s a wonder that didn’t run off Callum. I’ve been so fucking needy.”

  He took several gulps from the glass and flashed a grin at the camera. “It turns out I was substituting water for alcohol, so I’m trying to reinstate good habits. I haven’t touched a bottle in just over a week, and that’s progress. It makes me happy, you know? Last night I almost took up the phone and called Callum, tell him I’ve been completely sober for a week, but I’m afraid that it’s too soon to celebrate. That I’ll fall off the wagon. I think I’ll wait a bit before I talk to him.”

  He placed the glass back on the table and pulled his knees up to his chest. “I talked to my therapist about calling Callum, but she said it wasn’t a good idea. She thinks Callum is a distraction from my recovery. I don’t agree with her, but whatever.”

  It stung as hell that a professional didn’t think I was the best thing for him at this time, but I knew it was true. He’d trampled all over my rules, and I’d let him. I was weak to Ashton and what he needed from me. When he was around me, all I saw was the love he needed and I had in abundance to give to him.

  That was why he needed to go. I could love him, but I couldn’t make him better.

  “I’m not sure if you even understand these videos,” Ashton continued, “but just in case you do, I wanted you to know how much I’m trying. I’m taking the second chance you never got with Callum. I’m doing the therapy you never did, so you don’t have to worry that he’ll end up with another boy to take care of. And you don’t have to worry that we’ll forget you or that I’ll take him completely away from you. We’ll both take care of you for as long as we have you. Smile for him while I’m gone, will you? I worry about him too.”

  He got off the bed and approached the camera. “I hope you had a good day. See you tomorrow, Mario.”

  The video clicked off, and I closed it and found all the other videos he’d sent. I glanced over to Mario and confirmed that he was still sleeping before I started from the beginning.

  I saw Ashton’s good days, his bad days, days when he was excited, and days when his therapist had to visit him in bed.

  By the time I rewatched the final video, I knew I hadn’t been wrong about him. He was strong enough to fight this.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ashton

  “Hello, Ashton, how are you feeling today?”

  I smiled at the therapist as I closed the door and took my regular seat on the sunny yellow couch. It was soft. I’d taken one look at it and decided that was my spot.

  The first day my therapist, Jeanine Brooks, had asked me that question, I’d been quite flippant with my response. I was fine, even when I wasn’t.

  Now two weeks since I’d arrived at the center, and I gave thought to her question. This morning when I woke up, I started feeling nostalgic and wanted to go home. But then I went through my affirmations. I wrote one positive thing about myself neatly in the book I’d bought solely for that purpose, and I went through my meditation.

  I loved the way my room was soundproofed. It gave the perfect illusion that I was at one with the world. No distractions. No problems.

  “I’m feeling better.” I nodded. “I felt really homesick this morning.”

  “Is there any reason in particular why you’re homesick?”

  I hesitated to answer. From the first day when I’d reluctantly agreed to the therapist poking into my emotions, she’d made it clear that she wasn’t here to talk about anyone else. She wanted to help me. Ashton. And so far, we hadn’t really talked about Callum.

  “Remember, you can always be honest, Ashton. This is a judgment-free zone.”

  That was a relief after coming from a world where I was constantly found lacking. At first, I’d been skeptical about her judgment-free zone policy, but so far, she’d listened patiently to everything I’d said to her. She’d never berated me for the stupid decisions I’d made.

  “I miss Callum,” I said, holding her steady gaze. “I miss waking up beside him in my bed, the way he comforts me.”

  “And that’s fine, but we’re here to work on you being okay with waking up in bed alone and finding ways in which you can comfort yourself.”

  “But why do I need to get used to that when I’ll have Daddy Callum once I leave here?”

  I blushed when the honorific left my mouth. We’d never brought up that aspect of my relationship with Callum before. She didn’t even flinch. She just smiled at me in understanding.

  “What I’m preparing you for, Ash, is to be equipped to handle life alone. If you can do that, half the problems in your relationship will already be solved.”

  I couldn’t say I fully understood everything she wanted from me, but together we’d found techniques that worked to keep me less anxious and craving a drink. With a sigh, I nodded.

  “Can we at least talk about Callum today?” I asked.

  “Sure, what do you want to tell me about him?”

  I startled at her response. She always gently directed our conversations back to myself whenever I brought up Callum.

  “Umm, actually, can we just get back to me?”

  She nodded, her smile widening, and although she didn’t say it, I could see from the smile that she was proud of me for choosing me.

  “Tell me about how your coming out went.”

  My coming out? It was so long ago. What did any of that have to do with the present? I asked her as much.


  “I’m here to let you see how all the small things added up to the way you internalize events in your life, Ashton. Remember at the beginning what I asked you for?”

  “Your trust.”

  “Right, trust in my training and my decades of experience that I know what I’m doing.”

  Trust. I could do that.

  “It was actually very anticlimactic,” I said.

  “How so?”

  “It’s just that I agonized over it a lot before I told my family. There were these two guys who they discovered sucking off each other in the locker room, and everyone made such a stink about it. I thought for sure my parents would object. I mean, when they heard about it, they thanked god that for the first time it wasn’t me in trouble.”

  “And what happened when you told them?”

  I shrugged, but the truth was I didn’t feel so calm about the whole thing. I’d been so disappointed that day.

  “My father patted my head and said, ‘That’s okay, son. At least you’re wealthy.’”

  “And how did that make you feel?”

  “Dismissed. I hated it.”

  “But why? So many men in your position would’ve liked to receive the acceptance you got from your family.”

  I dropped my gaze to my knees. “I suppose, but that’s not the way I took it. Their acceptance. I just thought they didn’t care one way or another. Like I could’ve been a unicorn and they would’ve still patted me on the head.”

  “If they’d given you a hard time about it, would you have felt better?”

  “Yes, at least then I would’ve known they cared. That they saw me.”

  How fucked-up was that? There should no questioning how to take my parents’ reaction to me being gay. They’d accepted me. So had Jake. They’d never once made me feel like shit or made fun of me. They’d never tried to get me to change my mind or anything. And I should be grateful for that.