Fall Apart (30 page)

Tell him you didn’t mean that. Say it right now. Damon’s lips remained stubbornly closed.

Alarik paused in the open doorway and looked back at him with a pained smile. “I’ll have my phone if you need anything. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be here on Monday to see you.”

Damon didn’t know why he let him go, or why the part of him that was so satisfied he’d hurt Alarik’s feelings seemed stronger than the part of him that regretted it. He heard his boyfriend’s murmured goodbye to his parents and the inevitable footsteps approaching his room. Looking up, he found Molly and her disapproving gaze, frowning at him from the hallway.

I know. I know.

His mom shook her head severely and walked away; his reprieve from parental exasperation was apparently short-lived.

***

The weekend passed without any contact from Damon, and Alarik was in a mild state of panic. When a local number called, he thought he might be in luck, but it was only Leo. It turned out that Damon needed his suit, but it was in the closet at his house. Alarik had heard Damon call out in the background,
“Tell Luke it should still be in the dry cleaning bag.”

Realizing the request was actually for someone else was mortifying. Dear Leo was throwing him a scrap from Damon’s table…

“I can tell Luke, sir,” he said, dying to get off the phone. “I’m staying with him anyway.”

“No, son,” Leo ordered. “You bring it on Monday a couple hours before the service.

Alarik had reluctantly agreed, so once again, he was in Damon’s truck, headed to the Wright family home, knowing that the most important person there didn’t want to see him. It hurt like the very devil.

He’d managed to procure a suit of his own via an assistant of Max’s, and he nervously straightened the jacket on the way to the front door. Jess answered, but her eyes didn’t stay on his very long—another bad sign. Molly and Leo, she said, were taking care of some last minute details, so it was anybody’s guess if Damon had been told Alarik was the one dropping by.

“You can go back to his room,” Jess said, keeping her voice low. “Davey is with him.” She mentioned Davey with a raise of one eyebrow, like she was warning him not to fight in front of her son. Lacking his usual surplus of patience, his return expression was a tad irritable as he walked down the hall. He got the sense that the only thing waiting for him was a fist in the gut—always an excellent expectation when approaching a loved one. Outside Damon’s room, he heard Davey talking and when he peeked in through the opened door, he saw the pair sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I brought you something, Uncle Day. Mommy says you might not be able to take it and that’s okay, too.”

Damon took a while to answer. He seemed to be lost in space somewhere, staring at the floor. When he finally answered, it was like he’d suddenly remembered someone had spoken and it was his turn to respond.

“You didn’t have to bring me anything, kiddo. That was really nice of you.”

“Are you ready? Close your eyes.”

Alarik couldn’t help smiling at the
w
sound Davey’s
l
s made. Damon dutifully closed his eyes and Davey wriggled a bit, eventually tugging something from his pocket. He turned Damon’s hand over and set two Band-Aids in his palm.

“Okay, open up.”

Alarik’s windpipe closed tightly, and Damon looked like he was struggling with the same problem.

“This is your favorite kind of Band-Aid,” he murmured. “And you’re letting me have them?”

Davey nodded purposefully. “You got hurt, mommy said. I didn’t know how bad, so I only have two. You look like you need a box of them.”

Damon let out a short laugh. “You’re right. I guess I do.”

“Can you use them?”

Swiping at his eyes, Damon used his free hand and his teeth to open the first Band-Aid with its smiling cartoon character on the front. “Where should this one go?” he asked, his voice husky.

Davey used one small finger to point at the back of his uncle’s hand. “You can put them here. You got scraped real bad.”

Damon was fighting a tough battle, but he was beginning to lose in the face of his nephew’s sweet innocence. He somehow managed to get half of the Band-Aid stuck to his skin over one of the angrier cuts, then pressed it on the rest of the way. Davey pointed to another spot and Damon went through the same process with the second bandage.

“Good,” Davey commented. “Now this…” He lifted his Uncle’s hand and kissed the two bandages. “Those heal bad stuff.”

“I didn’t know that,” Damon breathed. “Thanks for thinking about me, little man.”

Davey slid off the bed and to his feet, noticing Alarik standing there watching them. “Hi.” He waved solemnly and Damon quickly glanced up, his body tightening. “I can’t teach you to dance today,” Davey said.

Alarik tried to smile, but he couldn’t look away from his boyfriend’s cold gaze. “I brought the suit.”

Damon stood very carefully and held out his now bandaged hand. “Luke was supposed to bring it.”

Alarik bit his tongue because what he wanted to say was:
So sorry to disappoint you.
Instead, he opened the dry-cleaning bag, removed the suit and hung it on a hook over the closet door. “Your father asked me to bring it.”

Damon realized that Davey was still with them and sent him off to his mom. When they were alone, a thousand unspoken words rushed in, giving an unpleasant weight to the air. It reminded Alarik of the time his father had visited him in London and all he wanted was for his dear old dad to leave again.

Alarik understood
right then
that he should’ve returned to L.A. He was putting pressure on Damon simply by being in the same room with him. It didn’t matter that he had no expectations beyond offering comfort. Pretending that he wasn’t injured by Damon’s attitude was also difficult and it wouldn’t be long before he let that hurt affect his actions. He stepped closer and lightly touched the hem of his boyfriend’s shirt. “Can I help you with this, please?”

Damon’s jaw tightened, but he allowed the assistance, adjusting his position as Alarik helped remove his sling and his clothing. The bruising along his chest, ribs and side was worse than Alarik had imagined and he couldn’t swallow his dismay in time. Damon’s eyes narrowed, but that didn’t stop the
thank you
that Alarik sent upward that his man was alive and well.

“I don’t think the sleeve will fit over your cast,” he said, meeting Damon’s blue eyes.

“Mom put scissors on the dresser. You’re going to have to cut it. Just widen the opening.”

Alarik did as he was told, cutting the white fabric along the seam, and then working around the pins in Damon’s wrist to get the shirt over his arm and shoulder. He rolled the extra fabric to the top of the cast, and then put Damon’s other arm through. He noticed Damon’s jaw working to hold in a hiss of pain, so he moved as quickly and carefully as he could.

The tie went on next, followed by the sling. They worked together in silence and when the only remaining thing to do was to put on the suit jacket, Damon stopped him, out of breath. “I’m only going to wear it over one arm, so I don’t need to mess with it now.”

Alarik hung the jacket on the hanger again and looked his boyfriend over. The suit somehow softened the appearance of Damon’s injuries and it brought Todd to mind. That picture Alarik had taken of the guys together, in their element, was too painful to dwell on for long. He hadn’t known Todd more than a few weeks, but he was sure that the man had no idea how important he was to his friends.

Sensing Damon’s eyes on him, Alarik glanced up, surprised that they were still so close together. The energy between them was different than it had ever been before; it was now a vacuum, emptying them of all but confusion.

Ever so slowly, Alarik lifted his hand to Damon’s jaw and caressed his slightly stubbled skin. For an instant, he saw the unutterable turmoil in his lover’s eyes and he leaned in, praying he wouldn’t be denied.

Damon’s lips look better, he thought idly.

A shudder went through Damon and his body responded, his head lowering a fraction. When their lips were a breath apart, Damon suddenly stiffened, backing away.

“Don’t, Alarik,” he said roughly, running his hand over his brow. “Just—not now.”

That about peeled the skin off of him and he knew he had to leave before he lost control of himself. “Your truck is in the driveway. I’ll see you at the service.”

“You don’t have to go to the funeral, you know,” Damon said tonelessly.

Alarik stopped midway to setting the keys on the dresser and gave Damon a hard look. “What?”

“He wasn’t even your friend.”

“Damon Wright.” Alarik growled, stunned by the absolute chill in the other man’s voice. “I’ll forget you said that to me. Are you listening to yourself? I love you and I’m here because I care about you. I may not have known Todd the way you did, but I did consider him a friend.”

“But, you’ll see him put in the ground today and go to work tomorrow. What’ll I do?” Damon smacked his palm against his chest as he spoke. “What do I tell Franco and Luke about this? What do I say to the woman he was talking about when—” He took a harsh breath and bit down on his bottom lip when it threatened to reveal him. “I don’t want you here, seeing me like this.”

“Whyever not? Do you think I don’t understand you’re in pain? You think this is your fault?” Alarik reached out for Damon’s hands, then lifted his own in submission when Damon jerked away, putting more distance between them. “Damon… This is always going to hurt. It will hurt at the strangest times. When you’re elated, or when you’re content. It’ll hurt when you’re angry. Losing Todd changes so much in your world, but it doesn’t change the fact that you have people around you who won’t stop loving you. I want to help you. I want to
hold
you, for God’s sake.”

“Stop it.
Stop it!
” Damon snapped. “Stop talking to me about how you love me, or what I’m feeling now, or what I’ll feel ten years from now! Can’t you see that I’m so fucking deep in this that I can’t sleep, or eat—I can barely fucking breathe, and it’s not because my goddamn ribs are broken.

“He
needed
me, Alarik. And I just… I—This is my world right now and it’s ugly and it’s dark and I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to worry about breaking your heart now that mine has nothing worthwhile to give you. If you’re wondering if that means what you
think
it means; yes, it does.”

The words sounded terrible as they came from Damon’s lips, but as they filtered from ears, to mind, to heart, they tore Alarik wide open. He staggered back a step into the dresser and it took him a long moment to assess the internal damage so he could make his next move.

“I don’t think you mean that,” he rasped. “Damon, I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

Damon’s blue eyes turned to ice. “I lost my best friend, Alarik, not my mind.”

Direct. Hit.

All Alarik could do was absorb the second blow and nod in agonized understanding. How could this be happening? One minute he’s helping with a suit, the next he’s being dismissed from someone’s life. It seemed like he was watching his own reactions from outside his body. Each movement was practiced and precise as he straightened his suit and set Damon’s keys on the dresser.

“Fine,” he whispered. “Forgive me, Mr. Wright. Your keys…”

His steps were sure as he left the room and the house. Jess and Davey watched him walk past on his way to the door and he ignored them. He walked two blocks to a diner and called the number Max had given him for the car service that would take him back to L.A. A nice woman named Veda served him a bracing cup of tea and he left her a tip.

Using the spare key beneath the potted plant, he retrieved his things from Luke and Mandy’s house and the driver tossed the bags in the back of the sedan. About thirty miles outside of Ventura, everything that he’d been through settled inside him with an ominous, hollow
thump
. The ship was sunk.

His hand scrabbled for the controls to raise the privacy screen and no amount of swallowing, throat clearing, or sniffs could stop the onslaught of the desolation.

“Fuck me…” he gasped. “My God, what just happened?”

Once upon a time, Damon read that in hours of intense stress or grief, a roaring sound, like a heavy rain on the windows, had been known to fill the ears and cocoon them, so it seemed that what was actually happening in front of someone, was being heard from a great distance. Like watching events unfold from inside a bottle with the lid shut tight.

Damon thought it was bullshit until he was sitting in the front row at Todd’s memorial service. The funeral director spoke, inviting people to come forward and share thoughts about Todd, and the second that Franco stepped up to the podium, Damon went deaf. It was like he’d taken a couple of seashells and clamped the suckers to his ears. It was allllll ocean, baby. And thank God it was because Franco was losing it up there and Damon didn’t have to glance at his mom sitting beside him to know that whatever his buddy was saying was pretty touching. Molly was barely holding it together. Mandy went up next and said something that involved a lot of tearful smiles, then Luke who was emotional, powered through a speech.

Todd was an only child and after he started high school, his parents had not been a big part of his life. He bounced from Franco’s house, to Luke’s house, to Damon’s house, and then started the process all over again. His parents split up and neither of them put much, if any, effort into maintaining a relationship with him. However, they were both in attendance, holding hands in the front row. Neither of them appeared moved to speak, probably because the Todd they knew and remembered was an eighth grader with pimples and peach fuzz. He wasn’t the grown man that Franco, Mandy, and Luke were talking about.

When Leo stepped to the podium, Damon stared at his feet. He knew what his dad was saying because he’d written it down and asked Damon to read it and give his approval.
Todd was like a son… We’re so proud of the man he was… So good to us and our Damon…