Roland loosens his pants with his other hand and frees his own cock, and slides it into his grip alongside Cody.
“Fuck,” Cody grunts out and Roland tightens his hold and strokes them faster.
“Don’t do this, Cody,” Roland pleads, swiping his thumb across both of their slits, combining their wetness for what Roland fears may be the last time.
Cody cries out, and it sounds like he’s in agony. He is determined to catch a breath, his tears falling quickly and unapologetically down his face and onto Roland’s hand.
“I promise you,” Roland says, “I promise everything will work out. I promise I’ll take care of you. Just let me.” He is begging now, stroking faster and using his body to hold Cody against the wall.
“I want you to keep the last promise you made,” Cody stammers. “The last one,” he clarifies, coming with a strangled cry all over Roland’s hand and both their cocks.
Roland feels Cody’s cum slide between his fingers and squeezes their cocks tighter, stroking in time with his own jagged breathing until he finishes, his cock softening immediately in his grasp.
Roland refuses to let go, and drops his head onto Cody’s shoulder, sucking in frantic breaths as his cries take a shift toward hysterical hiccups. Cody reaches down and removes Roland’s hand and tucks himself back into his pants, stepping away from Roland and sliding sideways. Roland drops his head against the wall, his hair matted to his cheeks, obscuring his vision.
Roland hears the rustle of a plastic bag in the living room, and then Cody’s voice. “Roland, I love you,” Cody’s voice breaks, “but this isn’t fair for either of us.”
Roland hears the bag shift, as if Cody is moving it from hand to hand, but he doesn’t see the action.
The front door opens, and Cody speaks again, “You’re too talented to let yourself slip away again. You’re too good of a person to always end up lost in your own head.”
Roland doesn’t look up and hears the door close. Cody doesn’t hear him when he whispers, “I love you, too.”
Roland bolted upright in bed, covered in sweat. His hair was stuck to his forehead and he used his palms to smooth it out of his line of sight. His chest heaved and his heart was frantic.
It was just a dream.
Pete leapt onto the bed as if he sensed Roland’s unease, and butted his head into Roland’s hand. He stroked Pete’s fur until he felt normal again, then scooped Pete up and stumbled to the kitchen.
Roland brewed himself a cup of coffee, and as soon as it percolated into the cup, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He hadn’t ever dreamed about Cody. Not even when they’d been together. Roland stared at the bottle of medication on the counter and wondered why his mind was so cruel as to make him re-live Cody’s abandonment all over again and in such vivid detail.
Pete mewled. Roland looked down and Pete was staring at his food bowl, swishing his tail around haughtily. Roland poured some food into the bowl, then filled a glass with water from the tap and dumped it into Pete’s water bowl. Next to a bag of treats, the green bottle with Pete’s antibiotics caught his eye, so Roland tapped a pill out, then poured some treats on top of it and extended his hand. Pete ate dutifully, then drank some water and wandered off to explore.
“One for you,” Roland said, wiping his hand down the leg of his pajamas and then grabbing his fresh mug of coffee and dumping it down the drain. He opened the freezer and pulled out the near-empty bottle of vodka he’d started on the night before and poured some into the glass. The vodka burned, surprisingly, and pleased him more than the coffee would have. Roland was aware he shouldn’t be drinking if he was going to start taking medication again, but a glass or two wouldn’t hurt him.
He finished what he’d poured, then dropped the glass into the sink. Roland opened his own bottle of pills, and placed one onto his tongue, then chased it with a swig straight from the bottle.
“And one for me.”
Roland closed his eyes and lowered himself to the floor, flexing his fingers around the neck of the bottle. His head was foggy and heavy. His mind, as always, felt like an insurmountable burden, and suddenly the idea of drinking more than a glass or two wasn’t such a bad idea. His mind hadn’t calmed down after his subconscious recollection of his last night with Cody, and it was all just too much. He took a drink and banged his head against the wood cabinets of the kitchen island. Roland felt his whole life like a weight on his shoulders.
Sometime later, it could have been minutes or hours, Roland felt the wet sandpaper swipe of Pete’s tongue against the top of his hand. He opened his eyes and smiled at the tiny feline, and then turned his hand palm up. Pete swatted at his finger.
Roland reached around to the other side of the island and felt for the plastic bag from Target that held the toys he and Donny had bought the day before. His fingers found the long plastic stick of the dangling glitter fish toy, and he pulled it free, waving it around Pete with a flourish.
Pete meowed happily and jumped up, trying to swat at it before falling gracelessly into a lump of fur on the floor.
“Poor little guy. I hope you get better soon,” Roland mused, dragging the fish across Pete’s bandaged paw. Pete meowed in agreement, then raised his other paw to attack the fish. Roland chuckled and took another drink.
Another unidentifiable amount of time passed. All Roland knew was that he was in love with Pete, he couldn’t stop thinking about Cody, and the vodka was gone. He didn’t remember drinking it. There couldn’t have been enough in the bottle for his mind to be this blurry. The door to the penthouse opened, and the first thought that entered his mind was Cody’s name.
He’s come home.
“Roland?”
That wasn’t Cody’s voice. Cody wasn’t here. Cody was gone, he’d been gone for a long time.
“What?” Roland answered back. His mind caught up to itself and he identified the voice. It was Donny. Fucking young, and perfect, and wonderful, and talented Donny with the blue eyes that were so pure they wiped everything from Roland’s mind but their own reflection. Donny, who deserved so much more than Roland. He swiped the fish for Pete and dropped the useless bottle from his other hand.
“Seriously?” Donny had rounded the island and stared down at Roland with a devastated look on his face. “I gave you another chance, Roland, and you go do the same fucking shit again?”
“I didn’t do the same shit. What do you mean?” Roland had tried to do right this time— tried to do right by Donny. He and Pete had both taken their pills today. What had he done wrong now? How had he fucked up now?
“You’re fucking drunk, Roland!”
“I didn’t drink that much. But, maybe, but Pete’s fine, so it’s different,” Roland smiled. He’d done right this time.
“Pete’s fine, so it’s different,” Donny repeated to him.
“Yes.” Roland nodded. “You were gone and so he had his medicine then he ate and we’ve been right here playing. I’ve been taking good care of him. Haven’t I, Pete? You tell him.” Roland rubbed his hand across Pete’s soft head and smiled at him, then looked up in time to see Donny grunt and storm out onto the balcony.
Chapter 16
Donny Gets To Decide What's Not Enough
Donny couldn’t remember a time he’d been as angry as he was in that moment. Sure, Roland had managed to keep Pete out of broken flatware, but he was three sheets to the goddamn wind again. Donny had the thought that Roland was more invested in his relationship with liquor than he ever would be with any living and breathing person.
Donny sat down on a chaise lounge and looked down at the city below. Hollywood looked dreary from this far up. Donny had always liked the city, but he liked it far less from up here. At least when you were down there, on the street, you could be part of it. Up here felt like a prison. Fifteen stories felt like a tower that stretched far into the sky and locked Roland, and by proxy Donny, away from the rest of the world. How did Roland live here happily?
He doesn’t.
The realization ricocheted around Donny’s brain, only coming to rest when the sliding glass door pulled open and Roland swayed out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him with a soft thud.
“What do you want, Roland?” Donny sighed. Was Donny willing to commit to this? Was the spark of Roland worth breaking through the shell of Roland? Was it even possible? Was it worth it?
Roland collapsed onto the chaise lounge, his thigh alongside Donny’s. He was still in his pajamas.
“I didn’t mean to fuck up. I thought I did everything right.” His voice sounded disbelieving if not mildly repentant, which was overall a childish tone, Donny thought.
“Why do you drink so much?”
“I don’t. I didn’t.” Roland was barefoot and he covered one foot with the other, flexing his toes into each other.
“Come on, Roland,” Donny chided him.
“Because I’m a fucking loser, obviously.” Roland dropped his head backward and rolled it from shoulder to shoulder before he circled it around so his chin rested in the dip of his collarbone.
“You’re a loser?” Donny countered, and Roland nodded. “You think I’m in the business of fucking losers?”
Roland snorted, “Obviously.”
Donny sighed and exhaled. A horn blared from the street, and Donny watched a pedestrian yell obscenities at a cab driver.
“I’ll just ruin you. I don’t want to ruin you,” Roland sounded despondent now, resigned to a future that had apparently already played out in his head without Donny’s knowledge or participation.
“Do you want to know why I’m back so early?” Donny decided to change the subject, as playing into whatever pity party Roland was having was not high on his to-do list.
“It’s early?”
Donny closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he continued.
“I was having lunch with my sister and some friends. Her best friend’s boyfriend is a super rich dude, and he has these really amazing pieces of art in his hallway.”
“Good for him,” Roland interrupted. Donny cast him a sideways glance and Roland made a show of clacking his teeth together as he closed his mouth.
“They’re yours, you fucking asshole.” Donny stood, throwing his hands in the air.
“Mine?” Roland’s question was barely louder than a whisper.
“Yours,” Donny affirmed. “I didn’t even realize it at first, but I saw them, and they’re unbelievable, Roland. I didn’t even know… you have so much talent. So much.” Donny licked his lips and looked up, trying to figure out how to explain to Roland how moved he’d been. “I couldn’t take my eyes off them. These gorgeous sunsets. Four seasons of sunsets, I could tell that’s what they were, and I felt them inside of me.” He gestured toward his chest. “Gabriel had to come find me, I was lost to them so long.”
“Gabriel?” Roland looked up, a flash of jealousy across his face.
“That’s what you took away from everything I just said?” Donny couldn’t believe it. He didn’t understand how Roland had gotten so far removed from whatever had inspired him to create those perfect fucking sunsets.
Roland shrugged.
“He’s my sister’s best friend’s boyfriend, you idiot. That doesn’t matter. Did you hear anything I said?”
Roland looked down at his feet and nodded.
“Why do you drink so much, Roland?” Donny tried again, kneeling at Roland’s feet and grabbing his knees. Donny flexed his fingers around Roland’s kneecaps, trying to emphasize their physical connection.
There was a long stretch of silence before Roland replied.
“I’m a fuck up.”
Donny let out a little chuckle.
“You think it’s funny?” Roland tried to pull out of Donny’s grasp, but he tightened his hold.
“I think it’s ridiculous.”
“You’re not in my head. You don’t know.”
“You’re right,” Donny agreed. “But I want to.”
“I’ll just fuck you up, too,” Roland said through a clenched jaw.
“Isn’t that a decision for me to make, not you?”
“Oh, so you just want me to drag you down with me now?” Roland scoffed at him, but lowered his hands to cover Donny’s.
“I don’t think you’ll drag me anywhere, Roland. But if you do, it will be because I let you.” A silence stretched between them.
“The winter is my favorite.” Roland changed the subject, but Donny knew exactly what he was talking about. Donny smiled.
“Mine too. With the flash of green in the purple. It’s mesmerizing, Roland.”
Roland’s eyes locked on Donny’s face, and Donny watched them glaze over as they filled with tears. Roland took his bottom lip between his teeth and raised a hand to swipe his cheek as soon as the first tear escaped.
“I can’t paint like that anymore,” he admitted.
Donny tugged a hand free from under Roland’s palm and stroked his thumb gently across his damp cheek.
“Why?” he questioned quietly, using his hand to gently tilt Roland’s face toward his.
Roland shook his head. “It’s just…gone.”
“And you can’t find it?”
Roland shook his head again. “If I drink, if I don’t drink, if I’m alone, if I’ve just fucked, if I’m high, if I’m listening to music, or if I’m drowning in my own fucking tears, I can’t find it. I’m useless. Worthless. It feels like I’m fucking broken,” His voice did break on the word and Donny placed his hands securely around Roland’s face, holding him steady.
“You are not broken.”
“I am.” Roland inhaled a muffled cry.
“I respectfully disagree.”
Roland snorted, an incredulous and waterlogged sound.
“I’ll prove you wrong. You’ll leave. I’ll be alone again. Like I deserve.”
Donny stroked Roland’s cheeks, “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean. I don’t make promises I won’t keep.” Roland looked up. “I don’t. I promised you I’d take care of Pete, and I did. It’s one thing I didn’t fuck up, and you came back here and tried to take that away from me, but I didn’t fuck that up, Donny.” Roland’s breathing was picking up, and his shoulders were heaving.
“Okay, okay,” Donny consoled him, crawling up onto the lounger. He straddled Roland’s broad thighs and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He dug a hand into Roland’s hair and held him firmly by the back of his head, pressing Roland’s face into the crook of his neck. “Okay,” he said again.
Roland choked out a cry.
“Make me a promise, Roland.”
“What?” Roland asked, pulling his face away from Donny’s neck and staring him in the eyes. His cheeks were damp, his eyes, red and puffy. Donny wished he were bigger so he could protect Roland in a way that would offer him a feeling of safety entwined in a physical comfort. Roland trembled beneath him, desperate to be more, and Donny trembled too, desperate for the same.
“You let me decide what’s best for me, Roland. You don’t get to say when it’s time for me to go. You don’t get to preemptively push me out because you’re afraid of dragging me down. I’m an adult. I decide what’s too much for me.” Donny pressed a kiss to Roland’s forehead, “I decide what’s not enough.”
Roland’s body shook, but he nodded his head.
“Okay?” Donny questioned him.
“Okay,” Roland’s voice was soft and weak, but Donny heard the truth of it.
“Okay,” Donny affirmed, giving Roland a squeeze before unfolding himself and standing up. “Have you eaten today?” He leaned down and brushed Roland’s hair from his face, untangling it from his beard.
“No.”
“Well, it’s time to get you fed then.” Donny grabbed his hand and tugged Roland to a standing position. Roland obliged him, even though his shoulders were slumped and he looked every bit the kicked puppy.
“Kiss me, Roland,” Donny said, st
aring up at the broken man in front of him. “Kiss me and mean it.”
Roland screwed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath before he dipped his head down and seized Donny’s mouth. Donny reached up and tangled his fingers into Roland’s hair. Fuck, he loved Roland’s hair. Donny imagined this was what spun silk would feel like, agonizingly delicate, but strong— much like Roland himself.
Donny spread his lips further and darted his tongue out, sliding it against Roland’s, moaning into his mouth and reaching up to seal their mouths together more solidly. Roland sighed softly and Donny swallowed it, before separating their lips and pressing a kiss against the corner of Roland’s mouth.
“It’s time to get you fed, and then I’m going to take you to bed and remind you about the kind of decisions I’m capable of making.” Donny pulled back and turned Roland around, pressing his hands against the small of Roland’s back and guiding him back inside the penthouse.
Donny moved him to the island in the kitchen and made him sit on a stool. He opened the fridge and pulled out the roast beef and cheddar cheese, setting them on the counter. He reached down to the floor and picked up the empty bottle of vodka, then locked his eyes with Roland’s as he threw it in the trash. Roland’s cheeks colored and he looked down at the countertop.
“Mayo and mustard?” Donny asked, pulling out a plate and then two slices of bread.
“Yes, please,” Roland replied, and Donny slathered each piece of bread with the condiments, before he piled on the meat and cheese. He pressed the sandwich together and then slid the plate across to Roland.
“Eat,” Donny ordered. He rested his elbows on the counter, holding his chin in his hands until Roland took a tentative first bite. He watched Roland chew and swallow, then take another bite. Donny’s posture relaxed as Roland made his way through the sandwich.
When he was halfway done, Donny dropped a pickle onto the plate. Roland looked up and smiled tentatively before taking a bite.
The Colors Between Us Page 11