by Laurie Loft
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. You’re staying with him, right? I mean . . .” Ethan gestured broadly. “Right?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think Collin’ll try anything as long as someone’s with Sebby. He wants to catch him alone.”
“I won’t leave him alone. Not for a second.”
“Yeah.” Ethan rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. “He won’t get any prison time. Unless he has a record, I suppose. But I don’t think he does. He’ll plead guilty to some lesser offense and get probation.”
Todd had no firsthand experience with the justice system, so he nodded.
“It’s ridiculous. The guy’s a menace. He’ll do the same thing again, to someone else, down the road. A bag of pot’ll put a guy away for years, but beat up your boyfriend? Nada.” He opened a cabinet and stared into it.
“You’re worried for him.”
“Old habit.” He shut the cabinet and grinned at Todd. “Don’t mind me, I’m settled. But, God. Don’t run out on him, hey?” He turned and reopened the cabinet. “Shit, I forgot what I came in here for.”
“More drinks?” Todd suggested.
Ethan snapped his fingers. “That was it. Hugh wanted a beer.” Closing the cabinet, he crossed to the refrigerator. “Barry and Lawrence, aw. I think they’re in love!” Head in the refrigerator, he laughed. “Or they’re in heat, but that’s nothing new.”
“Yes. Ah, I mean, no.” Todd juggled the bag of ice to his other hand and blew on his chilled fingers. “Did you sleep with them, Ethan? Er, when you were with Sebby?”
Ethan straightened, a bottle of Heineken in his hand, and he looked at Todd. Todd wondered if he had overstepped his bounds and was on the point of apologizing, when Ethan said, “No.”
“Ah.” There was an awkward silence as Ethan continued to regard Todd. Todd could feel a flush creeping up his neck.
“Sebby’s a sweet kid, but he’s got his, you know, his things. Hang-ups.” Ethan paused and drew a labored breath through his teeth as he pried the lid from the Heineken. “God, he’d kill me for saying this, but . . . you have to be the man. Don’t take his shit? He’ll run all over you if you let him. And not respect you.”
That sounded remarkably like Becca’s advice to “mean up,” but coming from Ethan, the sentiment took on a new significance. Todd pondered. “I appreciate the advice. But we, Sebby and I, are both men.”
“You’re not getting what I’m saying.” Ethan came closer and, evidently forgetting that the beer was for Hugh, sipped from the open bottle before taking Todd’s elbow. “You’ll want to indulge him. Trust me, I know. He looks at you with those big eyes, and it’s sayonara, samurai. But don’t let him have his own way all the time.”
“I don’t.” Todd’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think?”
“And he likes, uh . . . he likes, uh . . .” Ethan leaned away, peering out into the other room before steering the bemused Todd into the far corner of the kitchen. “God, he’ll kill me. Can I tell you without you telling him I told you?”
“Of course,” Todd said, his curiosity piqued.
“It was a fucking mystery, and he won’t tell you. You’re supposed to figure it out, uh . . . what he likes.”
The flush, which had abated, began creeping its way up Todd’s neck once more. Was Ethan about to reveal intimacies of a sexual nature? “Go on.”
“He’s not into pain, okay? But . . . he, uh—” Ethan glanced around again and lowered his voice. “And he’s not a sub. He doesn’t like someone having control over him, like.”
“I understand that. I’d never hurt him. I don’t see . . .” His voice trailed off, remembering the times he’d been rough and Sebby had seemed to enjoy it. Why, even earlier . . . but then Sebby had assured him that he was not rough at all.
“You still don’t get me.” Ethan put a hand on Todd’s shoulder and brought his face close to Todd’s, wafting a cloud of beer breath. Pulling Todd almost into an embrace, one hand on his shoulder, one arm about his waist, Ethan placed his mouth in Todd’s ear. “He likes to be scared,” Ethan whispered, and drew back, smiling.
“Scared,” Todd repeated, shrugging his shoulders against the uncomfortable closeness with Wayne’s husband.
“Haven’t you ever taken him to a horror movie? And he’s all over you?”
“It’s fun being scared when you know you’re safe.” Thoughts, feelings, memories fell into place. It even explained Sebby’s lapse in judgment over Leo. “Your boy had a bad fright,” Leo had said.
“Try sneaking up behind him sometime and yelling.” Ethan laughed, hiccupped, and planted a kiss on Todd’s flinching cheek. “I’m glad he has you. You’re a sweet kid, honey. Sebby deserves the best.”
“Er, ah. Thank you?” Todd inched away, turning in a sort of pirouette to unwind himself from Ethan’s arm. “For implying that I am the best. And for the sage words. Rest assured they’ll be held in confidence.”
Ethan waggled his fingers at Todd, following him out of the kitchen, still sipping from Hugh’s beer. Sebby stood looking out the window into the dark, the fingers of one hand stroking his temple. Barry and Lawrence had curled up together on Hugh’s lap, the three of them the picture of contentment—Barry’s fingers laced with Lawrence’s, their heads on Hugh’s chest, their foreheads pressed together as in the photo Todd carried in his wallet. Hugh’s arms encircled them both.
Todd smoothed his hand down Sebby’s back. “Cielito lindo. Let’s go home where we’re comfortable.”
Sebby paused in thought and then said, “Take me home.” He paused. “Please, Tarzan? Drag me to our cave?”
There was no police tape over his doorway, nothing to indicate that the place was a crime scene, and that was a relief. Maybe they just used that yellow tape for murders. Sebby shivered, even though he didn’t believe that Collin would ever have killed him. It was too dramatic to think so, too . . . egotistical. To still the trembling of his hands, Sebby twisted his fingers in the tail of Todd’s shirt. He hadn’t wanted to come home yet—the mess, the reminders.
“Key?” Todd said.
“Lock’s broken.” Sebby stepped past Todd and gave the door a shove. It swung open, and Sebby heard Todd’s intake of breath as the chaos inside became visible. “Hay mucha mierda,” Sebby swore. He had to clean all that up before going to bed, and he was so tired, and he hurt.
Todd crouched to inspect the door. “You should buy a new door soon, a strong one.”
“Whatever you think best. It’ll be your door too.”
Todd straightened, wiping his hands on his thighs. Pushing the doorframe flat, he managed to close the door by leaning on it, twisting the knob, and pushing with his knee. He engaged the chain, wiped his hands again, and glanced at Sebby. “You . . . want me to move in?”
“I did when I asked you, and I still do. So will you?” The corner of Todd’s mouth quirked, and Sebby’s heart cricketed. Todd had said he loved him. Was there a but?
“If we are to cohabit, Sebastián, we must first have a serious discussion.”
“Sí. For one thing, if you want to live in my house, you have to start tying that hair back.”
Todd fingered the ends of his hair, his forehead crinkling.
“Toddfox, I’m too tired to be serious. So, okay. Don’t answer me if you can’t. Tomorrow, yes?” He turned to the debris-covered living room and slumped. “Will you get me a trash bag? They’re under the kitchen sink.”
“What for? Oh, no. Sweetheart, that can wait.”
“It can wait, but I can’t. I’ll never get to sleep knowing this mess is here.”
“It can wait, you can wait. Upstairs.”
“What? Just— No. It won’t take long.” Sebby bent and righted an overturned floor lamp.
“It’ll take half the night! I’m putting my foot down.” Todd’s arm went around Sebby’s waist, and Sebby found himself propelled from the room and at the foot of the stairs before he could speak.
“You’r
e putting your foot down? Has it been up somewhere?”
“It’s going up your posterior if you don’t get up these stairs.”
Early in the morning, Sebby arose without waking Todd and went downstairs to set things to rights. When he had fallen, he had taken a floor lamp with him, and its light bulbs had burst, and he had bled on the rug and sofa. There were cleaning solutions he thought would get the blood out, but first he had to clear away the debris.
Most of the damage had occurred after Hugh had arrived. In shoving Collin away from Sebby, Hugh’s arm had taken out a Tiffany-style table lamp. Collin had stumbled backward, overturned an end table, grabbed an antique Fenton vase, and hurled it at Hugh, who had ducked, allowing it to shatter against the wall. Several more items had followed before Hugh had reached him and put a stop to the destruction—to that particular destruction, anyway. The two of them had gone on blundering about the room, Collin mostly trying to get away and Hugh not letting him. Sebby had collapsed in the arms of Barry and Lawrence, whose screams Sebby had barely heard over the ringing in his own head.
Sebby plucked the larger pieces of broken lamp, porcelain niceties, and Depression glass from the floor. He sighed over this and that item and deposited them in an old plastic ice cream bucket.
He was facedown on the floor, and he lay there for some seconds before finding reason to wonder what he was doing there. He turned his head, and there was the bucket, on its side, some of the glass spilling out. I fainted, he realized, astounded. He pushed himself slowly into a sitting position and scooted sideways until he could lean against the couch. His face stung, and his fingers came away bloody when he touched it. Oh, Todd was going to freak.
No, he should go clean up. He didn’t want Todd to know.
No, he needed to tell Todd. He needed Todd, and he needed to tell Todd. The big lie had died, and all the little ones had to follow. He pulled air deep into his lungs and shouted. “Todd! Todd, Todd!”
There was a noise above him like someone’s feet hitting the floor, or maybe someone falling out of bed.
“Todd,” he shouted again, “everything is okay, but can you come here, please?”
There was an unintelligible answering shout and then the sound of feet pounding down the staircase. Todd appeared in his boxers, hair about his face in a wild tangle, eyes heavy with sleep behind glasses that sat crookedly on his nose. “Wha—”
“Not quite a loincloth, but it’ll do.” Sebby eyed Todd, whose blotchy bruise had faded from eggplant to lavender. Sebby tried to smile. “I think I fainted.”
Todd insisted that Sebby go to the emergency room, and Sebby counter-insisted, since it was during business hours, that he go to his regular physician instead. When Sebby had fallen, some of the glass fragments had embedded themselves in the skin of his face and forearm, not badly, but the fragments were too small to be easily removed, and dabbing at the blood would send the glass deeper. In the kitchen, Sebby drew Todd to the sink. There, Sebby had Todd spray him with the sink sprayer, which sluiced away the bits of glass. Pink with red threads, the water swirled around the white ceramic surface and down the drain, and when it was over and Sebby was toweling himself and the counter off, Todd sank into the nearest chair, lowering his head between his knees.
Sebby regarded his face in the rearview mirror for most of the drive. He kept forgetting how ugly he was, and it was even worse now, his face speckled with red spots like acne. No wonder Todd didn’t want to move in with him.
The doctor’s office was crowded, and Sebby was a walk-in; they would have a wait. A television mounted on the wall was broadcasting a game show. A harried-looking mother grabbed Green Eggs and Ham and sat down with her toddler. Sebby squeezed Todd’s hand and turned his face away.
“They won’t draw blood, will they?” Todd said under his breath.
“Why? You going back with me?” Sebby said, surprised. “I needed you to drive me, but I don’t expect you to go in with me.”
Now Todd was surprised. “You would prefer to be unaccompanied?”
“No,” Sebby said. “No, but I understand. I don’t expect you to . . . blood, doctors . . .”
Todd’s arm slid around Sebby, pulling him close, though Sebby resisted. Todd’s breath ruffled his hair. “It’ll be all right. Everything will be fine.”
“Of course.” Sebby kept his spine rigid and refused to lean back against his boyfriend.
Patients came and went. A soap followed the game show. Several different parents read Green Eggs and Ham aloud. “Ay,” Sebby said, “I hate waiting.”
“I do not like to sit and wait. In fact, it is a thing I hate.”
The Seuss talk was catching. “Would you like it in a box? Would you, could you, with Toddfox?”
Todd laughed out loud, the sound falling on Sebby’s ears like firecrackers. The ache in his face as he smiled reminded him again of how ugly he was, and he scowled. Which also hurt. Fucking depressing. Sebby stood and stretched, and caught Todd watching him with that intent look, like Sebby was a rare penny on the sidewalk and Todd was a coin collector.
“What?” he demanded, hands on hips.
“I was just thinking . . .” And Todd blushed.
“Well, don’t hurt yourself.” Dios, he was bitchy today.
Todd smirked as if he found Sebby’s bitchiness charming, and maybe he did. “Doctors. Blood.” He blushed more deeply, and Sebby was mystified.
“Yes? Doctors? Blood? This gets you hot?”
Todd stammered. “It’s about time that I, myself, had a checkup.” There was more stammering before he went on. “We could get checked up together.”
Sebby blinked, sinking down next to Todd. “Oh. I see. You mean . . .”
“Er.”
“That still doesn’t explain the look on your face. Going to the doctor is romantic, Zorro?”
Todd shifted. “I— We’ll talk later. As you said.”
“Todd, I will squirm like an itchy armadillo! What?”
“Very well. Come here, then.” He pulled Sebby close against himself and pressed his mouth to Sebby’s hair.
Sebby tensed. How Todd could be so worried about being outed at work and so oblivious out in public exasperated Sebby, especially now when his nerves were bristling.
“I was thinking,” Todd went on, his fingers stroking Sebby’s abdomen, his voice a breath caressing Sebby’s ear, “that if we both were tested . . .”
“It wouldn’t hurt, I guess. Much.”
“. . . and, assuming we both are free of contagions . . .” Todd nuzzled.
“Uh-huh.”
“. . . and we both agree to mutual exclusivity, then . . .”
“Then?” Sebby breathed.
“We could . . . dispense with prophylactics.”
“Dispense?” Sebby repeated stupidly.
“As in . . . not use them.”
It had been years since Sebby had had unprotected sex. He never even considered it anymore, and the idea was shocking. A thrill went through him. It was dangerous, it was bad, the opposite of everything he thought he associated with monogamy—safety, stability, sameness. “Um, not right away,” he cautioned. “If we are clean, then, still—”
“Six months,” Todd interrupted. “Tested again, and then.”
“Then . . . think you’ll still be around then?”
“Sebastian Nye?” called a nurse from the doorway, mispronouncing his name.
Sebby got to his feet, and Todd followed, holding on to his elbow. “That’s the plan.”
There’s a plan? Sebby blinked rapidly, and even that hurt.
The nurse took Sebby’s vitals, cleaned the scratches, entered information into the touch screen on the wall, and left them with the assurance that the doctor would be in soon. Sebby perched on the examining table, hands tucked under his thighs, and swung his legs.
“Are we clear now, at least on that one point?” Todd asked.
“Which one point?”
Todd hesitated, then drew close to Sebby
and slipped his arms around Sebby’s waist, resting his chin on Sebby’s shoulder. “On the point of exclusivity, cielito lindo. I tried to tell you: I can’t do that kind of relationship. I need to know that you understand.”
“You do not like it, Sam-I-am. Yes, we are clear. I promise not to pimp you out to any more of my friends.”
“And you . . .” Todd’s hair was tied back as Sebby had requested, and had anyone ever looked more earnest than Todd did at this moment? His light eyebrows arched in anxiety over his clear blue eyes. “And you . . .” he repeated, “what do you want?”
“I’m sorry about Leo,” Sebby whispered. Todd pressed his fingers. “I want you. Just you. You and me. No one else.”
“I can’t tell you how relieved and happy that makes me,” Todd said.
“It’s strange to me,” Sebby admitted. “A little scary.”
“It’s fun being scared when you know you’re safe,” Todd reminded him, grinning. His eyes behind their lenses sparkled.
“Monogamy fun because it’s scary . . . Didn’t think of that.”
“Cielito lindo. And I promise—”
There was a knock at the door, and Todd jumped away to sit in one of the chairs. Sebby threw mental daggers at his doctor, who stepped through the door at such an inopportune moment, stethoscope around her neck, platinum-blonde hair twisted at her crown. “Hi, Sebby, how are you? What are you here for today?” Her Ukrainian accent always made her seem kind of mysterious to Sebby. She seated herself and began reading his chart on the touch screen.
Sebby opened his mouth to answer, but Todd butted in. “He was assaulted night before last. He has bruises and contusions and blunt trauma to the head, and this morning he briefly lost consciousness.”
“Todd,” Sebby warned through clenched teeth. It was fucking annoying that Todd should speak for him like that.
The doctor raised her head and peered at Todd over her green spectacles. There were deep frown lines around her mouth. “And you are?”
“Todd, rhymes with God. I’m his boyfriend.”
Sebby ground his teeth on Todd’s air of possessive pride.