Authors: Taylor Leigh
‘You put those on, yeah?’ I shifted.
His eyes flicked up to mine at last, the first spark of real consciousness I’d seen since his incident on the street. ‘Mark…’
I stepped back, nearly tripping over my soggy shoes. ‘I think you need to lie down for a while. Get some rest. You need it, James, you’re not well.’
He fumbled with the shirt and looked at me again. ‘You…’
I caught his arm as he started to tilt to the side. ‘All right, all right, forget the clothes. Just…’ I swore. ‘Put these on, at least.’ I sorted through the dry clothes and found the pants I’d grabbed.
James seemed confused but he began to obey. I swore again and turned away from him. ‘I didn’t mean—’ Oh, what the hell. At least he was moving.
I didn’t turn back round till I felt a hand on my shoulder. He’d managed to change. I rubbed my eyes and sighed. He was frail, and I didn’t know how there he was, but he was listening to me.
‘Okay.’ I guided James to the sitting room and sat him down on the sofa. I then went back to the bathroom and stripped out of my sopping clothes, swiped James’s dry clothes from the wardrobe and struggled into them, fingers fumbling to fasten the jeans. My shoes, well, I’d never fit into James’s size, so I’d have to make do.
When I came back to James, he was still sitting dazedly, staring into space. I was tempted to leave him there but for how stiff and straight he sat. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get him to relax where he was.
I helped him up with a grunt. For someone so skinny, he was heavy with dead weight.
He swayed and suddenly those large hands were wrapping round the front of the shirt I’d just put on. I felt the fabric about my neck tug tighter. Our eyes locked briefly and I felt a jolt of emotion rush through me. Those eyes were so green, so…engrossing, encompassing,
pure
. All the shit that bogged me and the rest of the world down didn’t stick to him. He saw a world of numbers that didn’t allow all the drama that choked me. I envied him for that. Even InVizion to him was nothing more than an interesting problem to play with. There were no dangers in that mind.
It was a struggle but I managed to guide James to his bed and lay him down, pulling the blankets up. His fingers stayed clutched at the front of my shirt and tugging at me, against my will, till I was pressed against him. The duvet separated us but I could still feel him trembling.
‘James,’ I said quietly, supporting myself so I wasn’t completely crushing him.
‘Don’t go,’ he whispered hoarsely.
I shut my eyes, suppressing a groan. ‘You want me to stay the night?’
His breathing came more broken.
I nodded. ‘All right. Here, I’ll…’ I glanced round, struggling to work out a solution I could tell myself I was comfortable with. Already my position was threatening to feel a little too much like where I wouldn’t mind staying. ‘I’ll just be in the next room, okay?’ The sofa wouldn’t exactly be comfortable, but I supposed one night wouldn’t kill me. Give my shoes a chance to dry out.
‘No. Here.’ His trembling grew worse and his voice no longer contained the quality it usually had; I might have been talking to a child afraid of the dark.
I rested my forehead against his and sighed. ‘All right. I’ll stay.’ I couldn’t believe I was even agreeing to that. Sleep in the same bed as him? What was I thinking? It was not the solution to his request to stay I would have come to. Yet in his condition I wasn’t so sure I could safely leave him. Suppose he was to have a fit or something whilst I was in the next room, unawares? Suppose he fell from bed and split open his head or choked on his vomit or something?
Best to stay.
I slid under the covers next to James and he almost immediately curled into my side, making me stiffen uneasily. I forced myself to let out a slow breath; muscles slowly unwinding and stared up at the ceiling, feeling his wet body shake.
I rubbed his shoulder absently. It didn’t feel strange lying next to him, not as strange as I’d have expected. I could only tell myself, over and over again, that it wasn’t sexual. He was simply broken; beyond anything I could do for him, and yet, he still wanted me here. And I didn’t know why.
James fell asleep quickly, I could tell that by his breathing, pulling in deep and slow, hypnotic. As I lay next to him, his body settled against mine. I tried to think of the last time I’d been in a situation like this: sleeping next to another person.
A man? Never. Save for perhaps my father, when I was young…I wrinkled my nose, trying to push those early, painful memories to the back of my mind.
The last person I’d shared a bed with had been my girlfriend, but that had been years ago and that relationship had dried up along with any happiness I had had.
Still, for some reason, I wasn’t bothered that I was with James, in his bed, with him sleeping soundly beside me. It felt…natural. What
did
bother me was I didn’t know my reasoning for why I was okay with it. Was it because I was exhausted? Slightly drunk? What had changed me so entirely that allowed me to be fine with lying next to a man that…a year ago I had not even known?
I was too tired to question it. I was okay with the fact James Nightgood was curled against my side, and at least for now, at this hour, that was all that needed to be acknowledged.
My eyes started to drift closed and I rubbed at them, jostling James slightly. He muttered in his sleep. I sighed.
‘Goodnight, James.’
His breathing was all that responded. He’d long ago fallen asleep.
I fell asleep soon after, thoughtless.
I woke with a start. Confusion flooded my mind as I tried to shake the sleep from me and figure out where I was. Finally, clarity came to me. My watch alarm was bleeping. I had work today.
I let out a groan of unhappiness.
Warmth against my side brought my attention down. James was coiled up against me as before, his long fingers curled around the front of my shirt. I studied his face, briefly forgetting myself. For once he looked peaceful; that mad energy that drove him hadn’t permeated down to this level of his consciousness at least.
I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to wake him. After his…fit…last night, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was at all to blame. Still, as much as I wanted it, I couldn’t stay. I had responsibilities. I’d called in yesterday and couldn’t risk it again; not if James was at all better. If he was worse, well, I didn’t know what I’d do then. Fox? No, I didn’t think Fox would take too kindly to me depositing a torpid James Nightgood on him.
As gently as I could, I attempted to pry his fingers from my shirt. ‘James,’ I whispered once I heard him groan, ‘I’ve got to get up. I need to go.’
James squeezed his eyes tighter and rested his head against my chest. ‘No…’
I tried to not clench my teeth in frustration. ‘I have to. I can’t miss another day.’
His eyes opened in a way that almost seemed physically painful and he directed his gaze up to me. ‘Mark?’
I pushed myself up to a sitting position. The sudden proximity between us with him now conscious was more acceptable than I wanted to investigate and I couldn’t allow that. ‘Are you all right? Feeling…any better than you were last night?’
James stretched out with a moan and I slid to the edge of the bed, disturbed by how easy it was to relax in the situation.
‘Headache,’ he said after a moment, passing a large hand across his features.
I reluctantly put my feet to the cold floor, turning my eyes from him. It was a bit difficult, noticing the slight bulge that was all too visible beneath the sheet from James’s long body. I self-consciously stuffed my own hands to my lap and kept them there.
‘Do you remember anything about last night?’ I asked, still making no real effort to leave James’s bed.
He breathed out heavily. I could picture his chest rising and falling, slow with the effort. ‘I remember…drinking with you.’ He paused for a long moment. ‘After that…nothing.’ A smile came to his voice. ‘Which does make waking up with you rather…curious.’
I felt my cheeks go pink and I clenched my jaw, glad my back was to him. ‘It was at your insistence,’ I huffed. ‘You did not seem well and didn’t want me to leave your side.’
‘Ah,’ James seemed to marinate in that for a while.
I finally forced myself to stand. ‘Don’t remember that, then?’
James sighed lazily. ‘Is that my shirt?’
I winced. Damn. I’d forgotten. ‘Yeah, long story.’
James sat up and frowned, looking me up and down. ‘I’m feeling a little left out. Pity I don’t remember.’
I rolled my eyes and turned to look at him. ‘Finally developing a sense of sarcasm, I see.’
He tilted his head a fraction. ‘You think that was sarcasm?’
I tried to remember where I’d put my shoes. Last night was a hazy blur. I’d had too much excitement, or drink, and it had fucked with my head. The pub with James, going home with him, showering with him, sharing the same bed with him? Yeah, real easy to question that the next morning.
But, last night, he’d just seemed like such a…different person. So weak and helpless and broken and I wasn’t sure who he was anymore. Perhaps…I saw a bit of myself in that version of James. That broken, frightened man. An ugly reflection of what I felt deepest.
‘Sometimes it’s just difficult to get any reaction out of you that isn’t attached to a string of numbers.’
I turned from James and his confused expression and walked to the sitting room to find my—hopefully—dry clothes. I heard James’s bare feet behind me and briefly glanced up from sorting through my things to see him in nothing but what I’d put him to bed in last night. His pants.
I was treated to long pale legs, a flat torso, those two odd pink scars framing a slight amount of light hair which ran down the centre of his belly to the waistband of his underpants.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked, stifling a yawn. He passed a hand through his wild red hair.
‘Work,’ I answered tersely, very much wanting to bolt from the flat as I was. This situation was far out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t sure how react to it. It was not particularly…uncomfortable and I didn’t find myself dying to escape the situation because I couldn’t stand to be there. It was exactly the opposite.
I needed to question my reasoning alone; because, up until this point in my life, I hadn’t known I
would
have been okay with it. I was simply…not prepared and certainly not sure how to react to it.
‘And after work?’ James asked casually, drifting past me to the kitchen.
I swiped up my clothes. Still, depressingly, damp. No time to go home and change. I’d have to wear them to work, for fear of James’s oversized trousers falling round my ankles. His question prickled at the back of my neck. He wanted to know what I was doing. He was interested. The only reason James would show interest in something I was doing would be if he wanted to be part of it.
‘Dunno,’ I answered, feeling my mouth go dry. ‘Probably just go home. Get some much needed rest.’
I mentally winced at my words. Sounded like I was making a bloody show of how dull my life was. How I lusted for company. The need to be with someone. The need to be with
him.
He made a thoughtful humming noise and I felt my spine tighten. He might as well have been circling round me, dragging those fingers over my skin for the effect it had on me. His pause made my spine twist a little tighter. Was he
waiting
for me to say that I was free for the evening? That I’d be willing to do something with him if he’d want to?
I fought against the inexplicable flutter of nerves that rose in me. ‘But…I’m not set in those plans, if—if something else came up.’ I blurted it out in a rush and immediately felt my cheeks colour. I hadn’t intended on saying any of that.
I heard James making coffee.
This was becoming too domestic.
‘If anything…odd happens…feel free to text, or call. I’ll be at work, of course, but you’ll reach me one way or another. Especially if you start feeling poorly again.’
More babbling on my part. And James still hadn’t answered. That made me feel all the more humiliated. I made a quick dash to the bathroom with my clothes in a bundle and changed as quickly as was possible with stiff, shaking fingers. The situation was uncharted territory for me and I was very nearly losing my calm.
I ran a tongue over my teeth, wincing; I wouldn’t have a chance for a proper wash before work, but I’d live. I took a breath to steel myself and then pushed open the bathroom door. James was sitting at the table, knees propped up under him, holding—but not dinking—a cup of coffee, eyes glued to his computer.
I cast about for my shoes, trying to remember where I’d put them down in the haze that had been last night. There they were, discarded next to the sofa. I swept them up, suppressing a shudder as I squeezed my feet into their soggy interiors. James paid me no mind.
I dropped my left foot rather heavily as I finished battling my shoes and grunted, brushing my hands down my front, attempting to get the creases out from a night of being bunched up and damp on the floor. I’d probably looked worse.