Penumbra

by Dan Ackerman

  He looked at the number in Rhys’s bank account. He nearly wiped it.

  But that baby.

  Fuck.

  He should at least fire Rhys from being Chamberlain, give the job to someone who would turn up to work.

  In the end, he did nothing.

  He tried but couldn’t bring himself to type anything. He tossed his tablet on the coffee table with a groan.

  He made himself a drink, then another.

  Oggie came over for the night, listened sympathetically, and took over the drink-making. His creations turned out more palatable and less intoxicating.

  Cole let himself in and found them sprawled on the couch. “Uh.”

  Arden pointed to the bar. “Oggie made a whole pitcher.”

  Cole stared at Oggie. “You, uh. You missed practice. Larista said you weren’t feeling well. I thought I’d stop by.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Cole kept looking at Oggie.

  Arden asked, “You know each other?”

  “I’ve seen you at Crystal,” Cole said.

  “Raspberry vodka fizz,” Oggie recited, “Twist of lemon, extra ice.”

  Cole barely smiled. “Ardi, are you—”

  “Ardi!” Oggie giggled, then smothered his laugh with his hand.

  “Are you okay?” Cole asked.

  “I’m fine. Do you want to stay?”

  “No, uh. You seem busy.”

  Arden didn’t look busy at all. He had a drink in his hand and his legs tangled with Oggie’s…Oh. That kind of busy. He blushed. “Stop by some other time.”

  “Maybe knock first,” Oggie suggested mildly.

  Cole ducked out of the room.

  “Your friend doesn’t like me.”

  “Well, we have sort of positioned you as a lascivious pet getting me re-hooked on formulas,” Arden pointed out.

  Oggie sighed and stretched. “Lascivious.”

  “Mmm.”

  He folded himself into Arden’s arms. “Sugar, tell me I’m a little more than that.”

  Arden drained his drink, set the glass down, and pulled Oggie close. Having him close felt comfortable. “When we figure out what Morris is up to, you should meet my other friends properly.”

  Oggie hummed.

  “I can’t believe he’s a dad.”

  “I’m sorry, sugar.”

  “No, it’s just…” Arden sighed. “I thought, I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought anymore.”

  “You thought he liked you.”

  “I would have given him anything on Eden.”

  “Give it to me instead.”

  Arden ruffled Oggie’s hair, wavy and blond, but not as pale as his sister’s. Like gold, it had a richness Mara’s lacked. Thick and slippery. “What do you want?”

  “I want what I should have had. Can you bend time?”

  “Sorry.”

  “I forgive you.”

  They stayed quiet.

  Oggie refilled their drinks.

  “I thought you didn’t drink,” Arden noted.

  Oggie looked at the glass in his hand. “I don’t.”

  Arden raised an eyebrow.

  Oggie smiled but offered no further explanation.

  They quieted, existing on the couch. Minutes ticked past in a peaceable companionship. No need to impress each other since they’d already declared their intentions without worrying about feelings.

  Arden said again, “I don’t know why I went down there.”

  “Because you loved him and you missed him,” Oggie offered simply.

  “I was mad he stopped coming to work.”

  “Maybe send him a message?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “Do you hate him?”

  “I didn’t. Now I…I.” Arden frowned. He snuggled back up to Oggie. “I hate that he tricked me. I hate that he pretended to like me. I told him, I really did, I told him not to do it if he didn’t like me. I thought that mattered. I thought any of it meant something to him, that he thought I was a person, not just a means to an end.”

  Oggie hummed. He played with the hem of Arden’s sleeve. “Nice shirt, what is this?”

  “Uh. Silk blend.”

  “Do you think it would fit me?”

  Arden slipped it off and handed it over.

  Oggie took the shirt but stared at Arden. He ran his fingers over Arden’s ribs, exploratory and firm.

  Arden almost said something, but instead, he watched Oggie, lips slightly parted. Words rested on the tip of his tongue, and thoughts bumped off each other in his head, but he was confused more than anything else.

  Oggie dug his fingers in.

  Arden flinched. “Ow!”

  “Sorry,” Oggie breathed. He reached out but stopped himself. He stood up. “You’re so skinny, but I bet a lot of your clothes would fit me.” He grabbed Arden’s hand and pulled him into the bedroom. He nudged Arden to sit on the bed. “Mara and I used to do fashion shows with Mam’s clothes. Mam got so mad!”

  He started going through Arden’s closet, his hands trembling.

  “Oggie.”

  “No, I…Spare parts, remember? Let’s do something fun.” He grabbed a pair of pants.

  Arden recognized that nervous energy and didn’t press matters.

  They spent a few more hours drinking and playing dress-up.

  Before they fell asleep, wrapped in Arden’s two nicest robes, Oggie whispered, “Sugar?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No.”

  Oggie nestled closer. “Buy me something nice so I know for sure.”

  Arden giggled. “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow.”

  “You spoil me, sugar.”

  In the morning, Arden attended a Council meeting and spent most of it trying not to look at Rhys’s empty chair.

  After that, he met up with Oggie on Goshawk. He offered his arm to him.

  For a moment, Oggie looked nervous, but he took Arden’s arm. “So. What do I get?”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ll know when I see it.”

  Arm in arm, they walked through the shops.

  They didn’t look like a couple, not with Oggie in the shabby, bland clothes of a thrall. Arden took him to a clothing shop first.

  People watched Oggie as he moved around the store, their eyes narrowed.

  Arden stayed close and made a show of doting on him.

  If they were going to sell this, they’d have to really sell it.

  The more sway Morris thought Oggie had over Arden, the easier it would be to find out Morris’s plan, catch him conspiring, and make him politically irrelevant.

  Oggie played the role well.

  Arden bought him several new outfits in that shop alone.

  A bad look for an Autarch that preached restraint.

  But, to be fair, Oggie didn’t have any nice clothes.

  New shoes, new outfits, and even new underwear, during the selection of which he made a show of blushing coyly.

  He looked so happy, grinning and cooing over the materials. He touched just about everything in every shop they entered.

  Arden liked making him smile. “You should go back and change.”

  “Back where?”

  “Home?” Arden suggested.

  “Then what?”

  “I’ll take you to dinner.”

  “Oh, sugar,” Oggie sighed and looked miserable.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I…” He licked his lips. “Oh, I’d hate that, I really would.” His green eyes shone.

  Arden, without thinking, touched his cheek. “Then never mind.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  They carried Oggie’s bags back, heading towards the Quarters.

  Oggie hesitated at the lift. “Maybe…”

  “Hmm?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should keep them with you.” He turned a ring around and around his finger, a twisted silver ban
d on his forefinger. “People do notice the things you get me.” He’d never looked so unsure.

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  He blinked quickly. “I know.”

  “Oggie…” Arden trailed off. He’d meant to tell Oggie he was being silly, but this wasn’t silly. He looked genuinely distressed at something.

  Oggie looked at him.

  “Let’s put everything in your room, you’re right.” Arden put a hand on Oggie’s arm and led him back toward Arden’s rooms.

  They hung things in the closet or folded them neatly into drawers.

  “Do people bother you about things? About us?” Arden asked.

  “Some people are so ugly…”

  Mara had given Rhys absolutely scathing looks. She made no secret of how much she disliked Arden sleeping with her brother. He wondered what she said when she wasn’t holding back. She must have been awful behind closed doors.

  Arden held out a hand. “Come sit with me.”

  Oggie sat beside him on the guest bed. He burrowed up against Arden’s side, his head on his shoulder. “Sugar, I’m in such a mood. I’m not any fun like this. I’m sorry.”

  “Do you want to stay here?”

  “It wouldn’t be any fun for you.”

  “I mean stay here permanently.”

  Oggie straightened up. He stared at Arden. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. I like when you’re here.”

  “You wouldn’t like me after a while. I get to be too much. Best in small doses, and better yet, bent over or on my back or something like that…”

  “Move in, Oggie. Morris will think you’ve got your hooks in. And I like having you around. I like you.”

  “I shouldn’t.”

  Arden hugged him. “Are you going to make your Autarch beg?”

  “I keep terrible hours and I’m a beast in the mornings—”

  “I know that already.”

  He pulled out of Arden’s embrace. “And I’m spare parts, Arden. I’m no good to have around like that.”

  This side of Oggie had never shown its face before. He always acted so carefree, sultry and haughty, like the spoiled peer he’d almost been. Now, he sounded sad and sort of ashamed.

  Arden took his hands. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “We wouldn’t be friends anymore.”

  That made Arden’s chest tighten. He didn’t know how Oggie had become so important so fast, but here they were. “How long do you think it would take for me to get sick of you?”

  “A month.”

  “Then let’s try it for a month. Revisit things then. Hmm? And don’t cry, you look like you’re going to cry.”

  “I’m not!” he protested but rubbed his eyes anyway.

  “You’re too—”

  “Don’t tell me I’m too pretty to cry,” Oggie warned tremulously.

  “I wasn’t going to. I was going to say you’re too worked up. We should have a drink.”

  “I don’t drink.” Oggie dabbed the corners of his eyes with a sleeve. He walked out of the room and Arden could hear him mixing something at the bar.

  They drank enough to get tipsy, but not drunk. They built a blanket and pillow nest on the floor in front of the window and Oggie demanded, “Why do you like looking down there so much?”

  “Don’t you wonder where we came from?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t think about what Terra One was like at all?”

  “I didn’t even know it was called Terra One until I was twenty-three.”

  “Oh, so, like…right now?”

  “Shut up, you wretch. I’m almost twenty-six.”

  “You’re a baby.”

  “I’m so old, sugar! I’m going to get wrinkled and saggy and lose my hair and then I won’t be any good to anyone.”

  Arden rolled over next to him. “You’ll always be beautiful.”

  Oggie snorted.

  “No, not…I mean. I can’t imagine you ever acting like you’re anything less than gorgeous, which means you always will be.”

  “Are you trying to tell me confidence is key?” Oggie scoffed. “It’s not. It’s all bone structure.”

  Arden rolled his eyes. “Someday when we’re old, you’re going to realize how stupid that is.”

  “Not if we both live to be two hundred.”

  “Come meet my Uncle Winnie. He’s old and the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen.” As soon as he said the words, he realized his mistake.

  “Will he hate me as much as your friends do?”

  “Cole doesn’t hate you.”

  “You don’t see the looks they give me when they’re at Crystal! Like I’m serving them poison.”

  “Winnie’s never mean to anyone.”

  Oggie sighed. He twisted and snuggled into the blankets. “I hope you’re not lying to me, sugar. I might have to go run away and get someone pregnant.”

  “Oggie!”

  Oggie grinned.

  “You are, you’re awful.”

  He didn’t have the good grace to look reticent. He looked pleased.

  Arden let out a long, heavy sigh. “Do you think he’s happy?”

  “No.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I think he’s miserable. I think he’s a wretch. I think that’s the only way you let someone with no one else fall in love with you when you have a woman and a baby at home,” Oggie declared.

  It didn’t make Arden feel better.

  He didn’t like to think of himself as that alone.

  He had friends. He had Uncle Winslow.

  But having Rhys, that had felt special. It had felt warm and complete, fulfilled, in a way that no friend or lover had done before.

  He had been content.

  Comfortable.

  “Oggie?”

  “Hmm?” The other man had nodded off. He pushed himself up.

  “We’re really friends, right?”

  “Of course we are sugar,” he mumbled, then settled back into the pillows.

  Arden watched him sleep. His thoughts churned too much for him to get much rest.

  In the morning, Oggie kindly pointed out, “You’ve got the worst bags under your eyes.”

  Arden frowned.

  Oggie smoothed one thumb under Arden’s eye. He did it slowly, deliberately.

  He was going to shove his thumb into his eye, Arden knew. He imagined it clearly, that perfectly filed and smoothed nail jammed straight into Arden’s eyeball.

  But it never came.

  Oggie tucked a piece of hair behind Arden’s ear. “I’m going to take a bath, shug. After that, I need to go get the rest of my things. I’m sorry I got like that. I have these awful moods…Spare parts. You know.”

  Arden patted his leg. “I’m going back to sleep.”

  Through his doze, he vaguely heard Oggie leave. By the time Arden had roused himself and washed, he hadn’t come back.

  When Arden came back from what he needed to do that day, Oggie wasn’t there, but more of his things were in the guestroom.

  He glanced over the small collection of items. A bag, a small jewelry box, a suitcase. Nothing much.

  He didn’t go through the bags, but he did peek inside the jewelry box. Some of the pieces he recognized, either because he’d bought them or seen them on Oggie. Others needed polishing and some looked too large or too small for Oggie. A heavy watch, a bracelet made for a child, a gaudy brooch an old woman would have worn.

  He closed the box.

  He spent the night in bed.

  In the middle of the night or the very early morning, the door opened.

  It frightened Arden awake, had his heart thudding and his eyes open wide, staring into the blackness of his room.

  “Og?” he called.

  A light came on. “Sugar, are you awake in there?”

  “Just making sure.”

  Silhouetted in his bedroom door appeared Oggie. “Did I wake you?”

  “Uh. Jus
t…”

  “I’m sorry, sugar. I told you I keep bad hours.”

  “No, I’ll get used to it. Goodnight, Oggie.”

  “Good morning, shug.”

  Arden drifted back to sleep and woke at a more reasonable time on his own. He could hear Oggie quietly snoring from the guestroom.

  No.

  Not the guestroom. His room.

  Oggie came home at a more reasonable hour that night and they played a few board games.

  “You should come to practice tomorrow.”

  “If you try to make me play, I’ll absolutely screech.”

  “No, just to watch.”

  Oggie raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t boyfriends usually do things like that? Come cheer people on at practice.”

  “I’m not your boyfriend, I’m your pet. It’s different.”

  Arden tossed the dice and counted his total, then rerolled. After a few more rounds, he asked, “Does it have to be different, though? I mean, what’s it matter?”

  “Boyfriends you can marry. Pets you trade in for a new model every few years.”

  “Is there something in between that?”

  “Yes, but there isn’t a word for it, and you get sick of those too, it’s just harder to get rid of them. It’s whatever my father was to my mother.”

  Arden made a sympathetic face. He didn’t know what to say to that. “Do you think…?” He swallowed the rest of the question when Oggie looked up at him. “Never mind.”

  Oggie rolled the dice. He sipped his drink. He didn’t reroll despite having a shitty hand. He passed the dice back to Arden.

  “Will you come, though?”

  “I don’t belong—”

  “I don’t care where you belong,” Arden snapped. He hadn’t meant to, but he was so sick of being told things like that. “I’m the fucking Autarch and I invited you, which means you belong there.”

  Oggie stared at him, eyes the size of saucers. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

  Arden’s stomach twisted. He scooted around to the other side of the coffee table and drew Oggie into his arms.

  The younger man didn’t resist, but he stayed stiff in Arden’s embrace.

  “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

  “You didn’t,” Oggie whispered. He cleared his throat. “You should hear what people say to me if I mess up their order. That’s really being shouted at.”

  Arden hugged him closer. “I’m sorry.”

  Oggie leaned further into Arden’s arms, but it was entirely forced. A practiced relaxation.