One Real Thing

by Anah Crow

  “I’m gonna fuck up,” he whispered.

  “I know,” Nick said again. “We’ll deal with it when it happens.” He didn’t stop petting. After a moment, he said, “Why don’t you get some rest while I order us some Chinese. I’ll wake you up when it gets here.”

  “Okay.” Transference. That’s what this was. Holly pulled away and made himself look at Nick for a moment. “Thanks.”

  Holly turned away slowly. Sleep. The bed looked so welcoming. He kicked off his shoes when he got to it and dropped his jacket over the foot.

  “Tell Rich I said thanks for finding this place, okay?” Rich had been part of their little circle of friends back in college. Holly hadn’t kept in touch with him—hadn’t kept in touch with any of them—but given what Nick had said the other day, Rich had been keeping tabs on him, keeping Nick up to date on his life.

  Maybe Rich could hang out with him some, shake this whole unnatural bonding shit that was going on. Like the second someone offered to take care of him, Holly’s brain turned off and his survival instinct clung to that person.

  Holly lay on the covers, his back to the room, and curled up in the alcove. It felt like he was in a little bear’s den. He could sleep here. Fuck, he was so tired it was making him stupid. When he woke up, everything would be okay.

  Chapter Five

  Nick carried a mug of tea in each hand. When he got to the love seat, he had to clear his throat to get Holly’s attention—a far cry from the twitchy, nervous ball of hatred and energy Holly had been on the plane. “Earl Grey,” he said, passing over one of the mugs.

  Holly had willingly attended the first appointment with his new psychiatrist yesterday. Afterward, they’d filled prescriptions for an antidepressant and something to take the edge off the anxiety Nick had seen up close on the plane. It was eerie, the way one tiny tablet left Holly so limp and obedient, but it was better dealing with him this way when Nick needed to get things done.

  Holly wouldn’t be on the medication forever. “Just until you get on your feet, get settled in therapy,” the psychiatrist had said as he handed Holly some literature on depressive episodes. “After that, it’s up to you.” Nick looked at the bottle. Six months of refills. It felt like a license for Nick to keep an eye on Holly that long—if he wanted to. He’d gotten Holly into this; he needed to see him get to the other side.

  Holly looked up from his book—one of a handful of secondhand young adult novels they’d bought on the way home from picking up his meds and doing some shopping—and gave Nick a sleepy smile.

  “Thanks.” Holly leaned forward to take the mug, then settled against the arm of the love seat with a sigh. Putting his book on the back of the love seat gave him two hands to make sure he wouldn’t spill his tea.

  “You’re welcome.” Nick settled in next to him and picked up his cell phone and his notes to get back to work. He had to have some kind of a story going before he went back to the paper, and he thought he might have the beginnings of something here, with a follow-up to the Senator Ingalls story. He’d tracked down some of her old interns for phone interviews, trying to determine how long the senator’s husband had been playing his “if you don’t sleep with me, I’ll make sure my wife fires you” game.

  Nick looked over at Holly every so often, though, to make sure he was okay. They’d arranged for Holly to see the psychiatrist every week, and they’d put him on speed dial—right after Nick’s number—on Holly’s new cell phone. Just in case.

  “I’m fine,” Holly said when he caught Nick looking yet again. He rested his head against the back of the love seat like sitting up was too hard, and sipped his tea. Holly and tea was a combination no one would believe if they hadn’t seen it themselves—he’d always rejected even the slightest hints of civility or conforming to his status as the child of a very wealthy family. His eyes were still dull, but not as hollow as they had been.

  “I see that.” Nick smiled and reached over to pet Holly’s hair. He knew he should keep his hands to himself. That had always been his rule with Holly—don’t touch, hands off—because it was too easy and it felt too good. But the petting seemed to comfort Holly, which was more important than Nick’s issues with how attached he was becoming.

  Holly’s sigh and shiver when Nick touched him were completely uncontrived. “They could market you as a headache cure,” he murmured as he closed his eyes.

  “I don’t think I’m interested in being sold to the highest bidder.” Nick touched his fingertips to Holly’s temple, then the backs of his fingers to Holly’s scruffy cheek. No fever.

  “I’m fine.” Holly snapped his teeth at Nick’s fingers, play biting that didn’t make contact other than his lips brushing Nick’s knuckles. Then he laughed at Nick, lazily, with no mockery.

  “Just checking.” The headache comment had sparked a flicker of worry—on top of all the other layers of worry constantly weighing on Nick—but Holly didn’t seem to be sick. Or at least, he didn’t seem to be any more sick than he’d been since they arrived in New York. And he was looking better, acting better. More like himself, if still sleepy and nauseated from his medication.

  “If it makes you feel better,” Holly said graciously. He offered himself up, leaning in and tilting his head to let Nick touch him as needed. “You should ask first,” he added, hypocritically, since he never asked before touching, pouncing, snuggling or any of the things he did with everyone but Nick.

  “Are you going to say no?” Nick rested his fingers under Holly’s chin, touched his cheek, his temple, his forehead.

  “Maybe.” Holly gave Nick a sideways look. “Depends on how you’re behaving.” Apparently satisfied with Nick’s inspection, he settled back and let his head fall back on the love seat again.

  “I don’t think you should get to say no to some things,” Nick said quietly. The reminder that Holly was still on the edge of everything, that Nick could miss something and Holly might die, came down on him like Atlas’s world.

  Holly looked thoughtful instead of infuriated. Thank God for modern medicine.

  “What kinds of things?” he said, at last.

  “I can’t have you saying no when I’m trying to keep you healthy.” That was it. Really. Nick just wanted to keep him safe.

  Holly’s face twisted a little. Then he nodded. “If I don’t like it, I’m going,” he said, scowling at Nick.

  Nick was sure Holly wasn’t going to like it. No drugs, no alcohol, no more sex just to make himself feel better. Holly already knew all that, though, and he hadn’t left.

  “Tell me what you want to be able to say no to.”

  Nick could think of a few things off the top of his head, but none of them were things he could imagine asking for. Letting himself ask for. And none of them had anything to do with keeping Holly healthy and safe. For a while, silence reigned.

  “I don’t know,” Holly said at last. He kept his eyes on his mug, turning it around in his hands. “Everything. Nothing. I want to not fuck up. Feels like I’ll disappear if I don’t keep going, though. Like I’ll just go under the surface and not remember who I am. I’m nobody when I’m not doing all those things.”

  “Holly.” Nick shook his head. “That’s not who you are. The person I keep seeing in the tabloids, that’s not you. You’re smart and charming and capable. I know that, even if you don’t. I think you’ll remember, though, if you give me a chance to help you.”

  “I won’t say no.” Holly’s voice was small and tight, his shoulders curved like he was falling in on himself, fading away.

  Oh, Holly. Nick put down his phone, moved his notes off his lap and reached over, using his fingertips to gently turn Holly toward him. “If you need to say no—if you need to—you can. Just tell me why. I’ll listen.”

  “I know.” Holly closed his eyes and leaned into Nick’s touch. “I hate this,” he said very quietly.

  “You’re going to make it through this.” Nick was going to make sure of it.

  “I never meant for you t
o get involved. I don’t want to mess up your life.” Holly sighed heavily. “Back in school, I knew. I knew what would make you come running. I would have managed if you hadn’t. But sometimes I got in trouble just for that. I wasn’t doing that this time. I promise.”

  It made sense, with all the other manipulations, that the various crises Holly had managed to get into had been deliberate attempts to get Nick’s attention. Holly had done so many things to get Nick’s attention back then. Nick had never suspected his breakdown in L.A. was one of those things.

  “I believe you.” But he’d come running anyway. He’d needed to.

  Holly nodded. “Thanks.” The mug wobbled in his grip, spattering tea all over. “Shit.” He wiped one hand on his jeans and held the mug out to Nick with the other. “I can’t do anything right.”

  “Hey.” Nick took the mug and set it on the table next to his. “You’re doing fine. You’re just tired.” Part of it was the Xanax, Nick knew, but maybe some of it was that Holly hadn’t really slept since his life had gone downhill. “Go lie down, get some rest.”

  Holly looked like he wanted to say something. Then his shoulders sagged. “I know.”

  Nick watched Holly for a long moment, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. Finally he shook his head and asked, “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

  “It’s not…It’s nothing. I’m sorry.” Holly exhaled slowly, like he was deflating, and leaned over to put his head on Nick’s shoulder.

  “I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what’s wrong,” Nick reminded him, but he didn’t push more than that. Holly would tell him if he could, if he was ready. Instead Nick shifted to get his arm around Holly’s shoulders. “Come here. Lie down and get some rest. I’ll get you up when it’s time to eat.”

  “Okay.” Holly curled up on the couch with his head in Nick’s lap and made a contented noise. “You fix things just fine,” he said cryptically. He put his hand under his cheek on Nick’s thigh and squeezed gently.

  Nick didn’t know what he’d fixed, but if Holly fell asleep, he’d call it a win. He got his notes from the table and set them on the arm of the love seat, picked up his phone and went back to work, petting Holly’s hair with his free hand.

  It wasn’t long before Holly’s breathing slowed and became even and the tension ebbed out of his too-thin frame. He looked almost blissful. Even the tightness in his jaw had disappeared. Seemed like it might be a win.

  He kept stroking Holly’s forehead and hairline and tucking wayward curls behind his ear over and over again. Holly was asleep, so the touches didn’t matter, but it felt good. Even when he made himself stop, as soon as he returned to his work, he found his hand slipping over to pet again.

  Nick’s phone buzzed, and he sent up a prayer of thanks it was on vibrate. When Caroline’s picture popped up on the screen, Nick was startled into pressing Answer before he was ready. “Hello?” He kept his voice down so it wouldn’t wake Holly.

  “There you are. I was starting to wonder if I was going to get a knock on the door from the police.” Caroline sounded almost cheerful. “I need to order meals for next week. Are you going to be home?”

  Nick looked at Holly. Next week. Would Holly be okay on his own by then? Maybe.

  “I think so. I’m not sure when I’ll be coming in, but it should be sometime next week.” That gave him some wiggle room in case something came up.

  “Well, I’ll just order for me, then. You’ll have to fend for yourself whenever you feel like showing up. I hate it when food spoils in the fridge waiting for you to come home.” There was the tone Nick knew so well. Brisk with a hint of blame.

  “Of course.” Nick rarely ate meals with Caroline anyway unless they were dining out. Their schedules usually conflicted, with Nick staying late to get stories ready for the next day’s paper and Caroline often in meetings for her various charities. “I wouldn’t expect you to deal with that. I’m sure I can figure something out.”

  “Well, I was feeling domestic, so I thought I’d call,” Caroline said brightly. “The cleaning lady’s taken ill. It better not be one of those farm animal influenzas. I ended up cleaning the master bath all by myself. You could write a story about that: Journalist’s Wife Stricken With Strange Affliction, Cleans House. They’re sending someone tomorrow, but the toilet couldn’t wait.”

  “If they don’t send anyone, call again.”

  “I will. The fridge is vile. You know how I feel about cleaning it. All that old food.” Nick could see her expression in his mind’s eye: pure disgust. Typical Caroline, that she’d clean a toilet but not the fridge, because old food was dirty. “I’ll pick your suits up from the cleaners tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” Nick was glad he hadn’t thought to pick them up himself. That would’ve completely fucked things up. “Do you want me to call later in the week, or just when I’m getting ready to come home?”

  “I’ll call you if I need anything. Otherwise, just warn me before you come home so I don’t mace you in the front hall.”

  Caroline would do it too. Nick hadn’t been on the receiving end of her itchy trigger finger, but more than one other person had. Nick wondered if any of them were really the muggers, carjackers or whatever else she said they were when she told the stories later, or if Caroline was simply lucky she hadn’t been arrested for assault herself.

  “Will do.”

  “Happy hunting!” There was the sound of a kiss, and then she was gone.

  Nick put the phone down. Had he woken Holly? He checked and smiled. Holly hadn’t so much as twitched.

  Nick sighed and tucked a wayward golden curl behind Holly’s ear. This wasn’t his life. It was so hard to remember that he was only here to help Holly settle in, and then he was going back to his life.

  His life was with Caroline; he was happy with Caroline. Beautiful, strong, capable Caroline who could deal with anything life threw at her and didn’t need anyone to hold her up.

  ***

  Holly hadn’t dreaded a morning so much since before Nick walked back into his life and slapped him awake. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before; he’d lain awake listening to Nick breathe. He was so lonely. But Nick had a life to return to, and Holly wasn’t even staying in New York. He needed to get his feet under him and try again, even if he didn’t want to. Nick hadn’t left him any choice.

  He watched the sky turning gray outside the window, and his throat tightened. The wait to feel human again stretched in front of him so far that he couldn’t see the end of it. Months for the meds to work. Months for therapy to help him change the way he thought and lived. He’d been fighting this all his life, being at the mercy of a broken mind. The psychiatrist said it was temporary, it was stress, but Holly couldn’t see that from here. He was still fighting the voice that said it would have been better if Nick hadn’t come and rescued him. After this morning he wouldn’t have Nick anymore, and the voice would be louder than ever.

  Holly rolled on his side, but he couldn’t see Nick. Closing his eyes, he tried to force himself to sleep. They didn’t have plans to go to the gym where Nick had gotten him a membership; from now on Holly would have to go on his own. There was nothing to do with Nick today but part ways. If Holly wasn’t awake yet, Nick would stay a little longer. It would do. That was impetus enough to make him slip into the first real sleep he’d had all night.

  “Holly.” A gentle touch chased the voice, sliding from Holly’s shoulder down his back.

  “’M not here,” Holly mumbled.

  Quiet laughter and another long stroke down his back. “It’s time to wake up, Holly. It’s almost ten.”

  Who’d want to wake up and stop being touched like that? Holly peered over his arm. The first thing he saw was Nick, and he was glad, after the fact, his smile was hidden by his position. “Can it be ten yesterday?”

  Nick’s mouth twisted, and he ruffled Holly’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know you want to get home.” Before Nick co
uld pull away, Holly leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He’d done it all the time when they were in college, usually to watch Nick get grumpy at the teasing, but also because it was as close to kissing him as he was going to get.

  Nick didn’t answer, but he did give Holly another smile. “Can I tempt you with breakfast? I made coffee, and I toasted some bagels.”

  “Trying to fatten me up?” Holly rested his cheek on his arm for a moment. How could he smile when Nick was leaving? And yet, here he was, smiling. Damn Nick. “Is this one of those things I’m not allowed to say no to?”

  Nick’s lips twitched, and he hummed like he was thinking it over. “You could have toast instead. Or one of those toaster jelly things you insisted on buying. Or fruit.”

  “For you, because we are in New York, I will eat a bagel,” Holly said magnanimously. He had no idea if he was hungry or not, and he didn’t care.

  He was rewarded with a smile that lit up Nick’s whole face, and Nick ruffled his hair again. “Good choice.”

  “Mmm. Choice. I remember when I had those.” Holly had been miserable then. “Now, out of my way.” The last thing Holly wanted was for Nick to go, but he didn’t want Nick to have to worry about that. Nick had a job and a wife waiting for him. “You’re between me and my coffee. I am still allowed caffeine, right?”

  “Caffeine,” Nick said, stepping out of the way. “And cigarettes, if you need them. No alcohol, no drugs and no more Xanax than the doctor prescribed.”

  “Yes, dear.” Holly threw back the covers and swung out of bed. He felt almost human today as he stretched until his back popped. Really human. All Nick’s fault. “I mean it,” he added, reaching to brush a hand down Nick’s chest, trying to make Nick understand he was serious. “I will. I promise that my fuckups will actually be fuckups and not me blowing you off.”

  Nick twitched under the touch, but he didn’t pull away. He covered Holly’s hand with his and said, “I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t,” Holly said quietly, knowing it was true. “I wish you could. But thanks.”