Chapter 12 - Reality
Reality
William stared at his bedroom ceiling, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. A throbbing ache radiated from the base of his skull to his lower back. Moving hurt. Staying immobile hurt. The latter required less energy—both physically and mentally. Especially mentally.
Because as soon as he climbed out of bed, he’d have to face reality again.
They’d spent a pleasant night watching TV yesterday, but the moment William had closed his bedroom door, his anxiety had come back full force.
Guilt—for making Adathan sleep on the sofa.
Shame—for wanting to invite him into his bed.
Regret—for having refused Richard’s money.
Fear—for what would await him in the morning . . . and for the rest of his life.
Would William be able to navigate the fine line between caring and infantilizing? Would he know how to balance trusting Adathan’s judgment and keeping him safe? Had he really given Adathan his freedom back, or had he just locked him into a different cage—a scary and unfamiliar one?
William let out a faint whine as his alarm went off. He snatched his phone and jabbed his finger at the screen.
Hiding was no longer an option. He had to get up and go to work.
Ignoring the knot in his stomach, William put on his robe and walked to his bedroom door. He made a silent plea to the universe that he wouldn’t find Adathan standing with his hand against his heart. He wouldn’t be able to handle hearing Adathan declare he was ready to serve him again.
Bracing himself, he turned the doorknob, held his breath, and pushed.
“Good morning, William!”
William exhaled, immense relief washing over him.
He stepped out of his bedroom, his heart fluttering at the smiling ray of sunshine he found on his sofa.
Warmth spread across his chest as he smiled back.
Adathan looked cozy as heck all curled up in the blanket William’s grandma had knitted for him before passing away.
It was a beautiful sky blue—the same shade as Adathan’s eyes.
“Morning,” William said, closing his bedroom door. “Sleep well?”
Adathan sat up, his hair sticking out in every direction. It was a glorious sight—proof that Adathan knew he was allowed to be imperfect in his new home. It eased William’s tension a little.
“I did!” Adathan said. “And you?”
“Yeah,” William said, heading to the kitchen sink. It wasn’t a lie; he had slept well.
For two consecutive hours.
He grabbed the kettle and filled it with water. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please!”
William almost flinched as Adathan appeared next to him. His fuzzy Christmas socks were amplifying his natural stealth.
They were part of the bundle of clothes William had given him to wear at home. Most were ugly things he’d gotten from relatives, but they were brand new and comfortable, if a bit too big.
Aunt Bertha’s beagle sweater hung to mid-thigh on Adathan, and William’s eyes lingered too long on his bare legs before he tore his gaze away.
“So, I’ll have to leave for work soon. You’ll be alone all day,” he said, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.
“Actually, no. Sorry. I should have been more specific. I’ll leave at eight and .
. . well, usually I’d be back around six, but I’ll swing by the grocery store, so probably more like six-thirty or seven. ”
“What would you like me to do while you’re gone?”
“Take it easy. You can watch TV, read books—I don’t have a lot, but we can borrow some from the library later this week. Just . . . do whatever you wanna do—oh.” William turned and walked toward the coffee table. “Actually.”
He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten. It was the one decision he’d made last night that had finally relaxed him enough to fall asleep.
William grabbed his laptop and carried it back to where Adathan stood. He placed it on the counter. “I don’t need this anymore. It’s yours.”
It was the perfect plan. Adathan wouldn’t be isolated from the world if he had access to the Internet, but also, by giving Adathan his laptop, William lowered the risk of succumbing to his addiction again.
He’d blocked all those websites and apps on his phone a while ago, but he’d never figured out an effective way to do it on a laptop.
Adathan rested his hand on William’s wrist. “You’re giving me a computer?”
Warm tingles spread across the back of William’s neck. He made the mistake of looking at Adathan, whose expressive eyes brimmed with affection. William’s chest tightened at just how perfect that face was, and he had to fight the urge to tuck Adathan’s hair behind his ear to get a better view.
Why did Adathan have to be so . . . everything William couldn’t resist?
William flashed him a smile and redirected his attention to the laptop. “I’ll make you an email account, so you can contact me while I’m gone if you need anything.”
He opened a web browser and began filling out the form. As he typed “Adathan.Eden” into the username field, William wondered how many Serviteurs had their own email accounts.
Few, he presumed. If any.
Had Adathan ever sent an email?
“You’ll have to pick a password,” William said. “It can be anything you want, as long as you remember it.”
Adathan hummed, tapping his pursed lips. “How about—”
“Don’t tell me,” William interrupted. He slid the laptop closer to Adathan. “No one but you should know what it is.”
He chuckled internally as he took the instant coffee and sugar from the cabinet. The cartoon dude from his cybersecurity training would be proud of him.
The speed at which Adathan’s fingers hit the keys was evidence that he’d used a computer before. He’d probably had typing classes, too.
Which meant Adathan had the skills required to do William’s job.
The thought of getting him hired popped into William’s head, but he shoved it away. His objective was to set Adathan free, not chain them together in the same mediocre career. Adathan could do better.
“Done!”
William scooped coffee into the two mugs and returned to the laptop. “I’ll add my address to your contacts.”
He could feel Adathan’s eyes trained on him as he typed. It filled William with equal doses of yearning and grief. No matter how hard he wanted to believe, he’d never be the person Adathan thought he saw in him.
“To send an email, you just gotta—”
“William.”
William froze as Adathan gripped his wrist. He looked up and turned, guided by the pull of Adathan’s hand.
Adathan reached for William’s other wrist and stepped closer, looking William in the eye as the space between their bodies narrowed. His smile turned cheeky, sending William’s heart into overdrive.
William swallowed, suddenly all too aware of how flimsy a barrier his robe was. His eyes flicked to Adathan’s bare legs, and images he wasn’t allowed to picture popped into his head, sending a wave of warm tingles to a certain part of his body.
It would be so easy to—
Adathan let go of his wrists and pressed his palms against William’s chest. He looked deep into William’s eyes as he slowly moved them upward, making William suppress a pathetic whimper.
No. No, no.
William had to put an end to this now. Adathan probably thought he owed him a favor for the gift. William wouldn’t be refusing his advances because he was a slave—plenty of free people were brainwashed to believe relationships were transactional.
His heart skipped a beat as Adathan’s head inched forward, his gaze dropping to William’s lips. William’s brain short-circuited, and the only thought that remained was that he hadn’t yet brushed his teeth. He didn’t want their first kiss to be ruined by his morning breath.
Wait—
First kiss?
Why was he—they weren’t supposed to kiss. They weren’t together. They couldn’t be.
William tried to pull away, but two arms wrapped around his shoulders. Adathan stood on his toes, his hair brushing William’s cheek as his head changed course, veering away from William’s mouth.
William let out a tense breath.
Just a hug.
He wrapped his arms loosely around Adathan and mentally planned his escape to the bathroom as soon as Adathan would let go.
Adathan tightened his embrace. He pressed his cheek against William’s, his breath warm on his ear as he whispered, “I know how to send an email.”
———
William’s anxiety weighed heavily on him as he neared his apartment building. His legs burned, and the handles of his overstuffed grocery bags dug into his tense fingers. His body screamed for him to slow down, but his head demanded that he walk faster.
He reached the building and fumbled with his keys. The strong scents of citrus and lavender hit him as he opened the front door—his neighbor had gone on one of her cleaning sprees again.
No smoke. No fire.
William cycled through the same reassuring thoughts he’d had all day as he climbed the stairs.
Nothing had happened to Adathan. He hadn’t wandered out and gotten lost. He hadn’t been arrested or abducted.
He hadn’t lit the place on fire while trying to cook a meal.
He hadn’t gravely injured himself, and William wouldn’t find him dead in a pool of blood.
Adathan had simply lied about knowing how to send an email. That was the most likely explanation.
Once again, the thoughts failed to ease William’s anxiety. By the time he reached the fourth floor, the pressure in his chest was unbearable. He paused in front of his apartment, key inches from the lock. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
He inserted and turned the key. The door was already unlocked.
William’s vision narrowed. Adathan wasn’t home. It was William’s fault. He should have taken the day off and stayed with him. He should have shown him around the neighborhood, and—
William flinched as the door swung open, and nearly collapsed with relief when a beaming Adathan appeared on the other side.
“Welcome home!” Adathan said. “Did you have a good day?”
William hadn’t, but a wide smile grew on his face all the same. Adathan wasn’t injured. He was safe. Everything was okay. “Yeah. You?”