Chapter 16 - Expectations
Expectations
William woke up with a jolt. He sat up, squinting at his dark surroundings. All he could hear was the buzzing of his old refrigerator and the whoosh of late-night drivers passing the building. Must have been a dream.
He lay down with a sigh, only to jolt back up at a muffled cry coming from the other room.
Adathan.
William reached for his phone on the nightstand, but only felt a flat surface. He’d left it in the kitchen last night.
William climbed out of bed, carefully navigating his cramped bedroom in the dark. He reached the door with all his toes unharmed and felt along the surface for the knob. He should really buy a lamp.
The lamppost outside the living room window cast just enough light for his eyes to adjust to the darkness—and for him to see that Adathan wasn’t sleeping.
He was sitting on the sofa with his hand pressed against his mouth and his knees close to his chest. His gaze found William’s, and his eyes widened in horror as tears glistened faintly on his cheeks.
He looked so small and vulnerable in his oversized sweater, so unlike the confident man he’d been acting like since he moved in.
“Sorry,” Adathan squeaked. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“No, no, no,” William said, rushing to kneel on the floor in front of him. “Don’t apologize. Tell me what’s wrong. Did you have a nightmare?”
Adathan panted against his trembling hand, his body stiffening as if bracing for punishment. He stared blankly ahead, his extended silence making William wonder whether Adathan had heard him at all.
“Adathan,” William said softly. “You’re safe. Breathe. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” He glanced at the laptop on the coffee table. It was open, but the screen was black. His heart squeezed—had he closed Adathan’s browser history yesterday before rushing down the stairs?
Had Adathan found out he’d invaded his privacy?
William looked back at him, reluctantly asking, “Is it because of me?”
Adathan blinked, his brow twitching as if William had just spoken a foreign language.
“Are you feeling like this because of something I did or said?” William asked, enunciating each word clearly. “Did something I do or say hurt you—emotionally?”
Adathan shook his head.
“You can tell me the truth,” William said. And then, even though it felt wrong to do so, he added, “I want you to tell me the truth.”
“Yesterday,” Adathan whispered against his palm, “I did something bad.”
William’s sluggish mind worked to piece together the events of yesterday. Was this about Kyle? Or was it something else entirely? Considering Adathan’s brainwashed perspective, chances were it was nothing at all. There was no point in trying to guess. “What did you do?”
Adathan’s brow twitched again. He dropped his hand. “I made you unhappy.”
William suppressed a sigh. “No—Adathan. You didn’t make me unhappy, I swear. You did nothing bad. I was just . . . worried for your safety. And I overreacted.”
“You were worried for my safety?” Adathan seemed to relax a little, but the sight did nothing to ease the pressure in William’s chest.
How had he not realized Adathan was feeling like this?
He knew the answer to that question, and it stung: he’d been far too focused on his own emotions to pay attention.
William sat on his heels, his gaze dropping to the fuzzy socks covering Adathan’s feet.
The floor was cold against his legs, and goosebumps spread across his bare chest, making him shiver.
The urge to go back to sleep tugged at his limbs, but he ignored it.
They still had too much to talk about. William feared that if he waited until morning, he’d lose his courage and postpone forever.
He owed it to Adathan to make things clear. But how?
I lied when I said I was your boyfriend because I’m an idiot. Then I let you torture yourself over it instead of clarifying the situation because I’m a spineless coward. Now you’re crying and it’s all my fault.
“William?” Adathan said sheepishly.
William looked up. “Yeah?”
“Do you mind if I sleep in your room tonight? I—I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s just . . . I feel safer when you’re close.”
William’s heart fluttered. “Of course. But I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor.” He winced as he stood up, shaking the stiffness from his legs. He took Adathan’s pillow and offered his other hand with a smile.
He led Adathan to his room, turning on the bathroom light on the way in case Adathan needed to go in the middle of the night. It lit his bedroom just enough that it was no longer a tripping hazard.
Adathan climbed into his bed and lay on top of the covers, as close to the edge as possible.
William lay on top of the covers as well, facing Adathan. Another shiver shook him, but he knew that if he made himself comfortable, there was a high risk he’d succumb to his need for sleep. So he endured the cold.
“What I said yesterday—it’s not . . .” he began, but the words wouldn’t come. In truth, he had no desire to reject Adathan again.
But what other choice did he have?
William wished things could be simple for once in his stupid life. But no. He had to break Adathan’s heart again.
If only he were selfish.
Then he wouldn’t have to pretend he didn’t crave the comfort Adathan brought—or that his actions yesterday hadn’t been motivated by jealousy.
William had gotten attached far too quickly. But he couldn’t help it. He had this void inside him he hadn’t realized was there a week ago—one Adathan’s presence filled with an unfamiliar sense of purpose. And it felt good. So good.
But it wasn’t fair to Adathan. No one should bear the full responsibility of a person’s happiness.
William swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I don’t own you, Adathan. You’re not mine. I have no right to decide who you can or cannot spend time with. If you enjoy Kyle’s company, then—”
“I enjoy yours more,” Adathan whispered.
A sheepish smile grew on William’s lips. “I enjoy your company, too.”
“I’m sorry I misinterpreted your desires.”
William clicked his tongue. “If I wasn’t so emotionally constipated, you wouldn’t have to interpret shit. But this is beside the point. I’m not your master. You don’t have to guess what I want, and even if you guess right—even if I ask you for something directly—you’re not required to please me.”
Adathan’s expression didn’t budge—or, at least, not from what William could see. Before William could stop himself, he brushed his fingers across Adathan’s forehead, tucking his hair behind his ear. To see his face better.
But Adathan’s features were still unreadable.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” William said softly. “Be honest.”
Adathan’s lips stayed unmoving. He held William’s gaze in silence, his eyes shining with that mischievous spark William had already grown so fond of.
William couldn’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed.
Amusement won.
“I see you’re already putting it into practice,” he said with a smile.
Adathan grinned. “I’m a quick learner.”
“Yeah. You are.” William rested his hand on Adathan’s wrist. “You’re impressive.”
Adathan moved a bit closer, no longer on the verge of falling off. “You think so?”
William slipped his hand underneath Adathan’s loose sleeve, his fingers journeying up his forearm. He traced the barcode he knew was there, making a mental note to have it removed as soon as he could afford the procedure.
“It’s more difficult than I thought,” Adathan said in a subdued voice, his eyes brimming with vulnerability.
“Hmm? What is?” William asked, caressing Adathan’s forearm. He noticed Adathan’s toes wiggling out of the corner of his eye, but uncertainty remained etched across his beautiful face. Still, William relished the sight. Adathan’s conflicting emotions were undeniable proof he was human.
“Being a person,” Adathan said.
William huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah. It is. Sorry. Didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just—yeah. It’s hard.”
Adathan shifted closer. “You find it difficult too?”
William gave a half-smile. “Yeah. Pretty sure it’s hard for everyone.”
“Really?”
William slid his hand out of Adathan’s sleeve. “Yeah,” he said, stroking the full length of Adathan’s arm. “When we’re kids, we think we’ve got it all figured out. But then we step into the real world, and”—he exhaled sharply—“nothing makes fucking sense.”
Adathan’s eyes softened. He shifted closer still, gently pressing his palm against William’s chest.
“No one tells you it’s going to be like this.” William’s fingers followed the curve of Adathan’s shoulder, then brushed the back of his neck, tracing slow circles on his skin.
Adathan closed his eyes, a serene smile growing on his lips.
“For the longest time,” William said, “you think you’re the biggest doofus in the world, and that everyone else is just laughing behind your back, making bets on which Darwin Award has your name on it.”
Adathan opened his eyes, arching an eyebrow.
“Darwin Awards are fictional awards given to people who die in extraordinarily idiotic ways,” William said. “They’re called Darwin Awards because—well, you must know who Charles Darwin is?”
Adathan nodded. “The man who lives in apartment number one.”
“Wh—he’s called Charles Darwin?”
Adathan chuckled. “No. His name is Geoffrey Hancock.”
“You—” William narrowed his eyes.
Adathan pressed his fingers against his lips, giggling softly.
William felt his upper body inch forward, pulled in by the sweet melody of Adathan’s happiness. He couldn’t care less it was at his expense—Adathan could mess with him all he wanted if it meant William got to see those crinkling eyes.
What was he talking about again?
Right. Darwin Awards.
“But eventually, you realize,” William said, running his fingers through Adathan’s hair, “that everyone’s just faking it—pretending they know what they’re doing. We’re all just as clueless.”
Adathan hummed, his features relaxing with delight. He pressed his hand against William’s chest again, right above his heart. Half of his bandages had been removed. Only a few cuts remained. Soon, all traces of the hotel incident would be erased forever. But William doubted he’d ever forget.
Expectations could inflict deep, long-lasting wounds. Especially those imposed upon yourself. But they were never born out of thin air; they were the result of social pressure.
William was intimately familiar with that fact.
Oh, how he’d wished for an instruction manual when he was just stepping into adulthood. An easy five-step guide on how to be a good person; how to make the right choices; how to succeed; how to matter.
William’s heart sank. He hadn’t realized the pressure he’d put Adathan under. What was worse than being thrown into adulthood with no instruction manual? Having one and being told everything it contained was wrong.
“Listen,” William said softly. “I know I ordered you to behave like a person for the rest of your life, but . . . what I truly want is for you to be yourself. No matter what that entails. So, I guess, if you’d like . . .” He forced the words out. “. . . me to read your manual . . .”
Adathan opened his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly. “We threw it away.”
“I could get the digital version.”
Adathan’s brow furrowed further. “Are you sure, William? This is what you want?”
“Doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you. Whatever you choose, I’ll be supportive. Even if that means going back to . . . you know.” He suppressed a grimace. “The way you used to be.”
He smoothed the mess he’d made of Adathan’s hair with his fingers. “Just promise me one thing. Don’t let those rules define who you are forever. As soon as you’ve outgrown them, kick them to the curb and don’t look back.”
“I promise.”
“You can be whoever you want to be, Adathan. I mean it. And it’s okay if it takes you a while to know what that is. Honestly, I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”
“I like the person you are.”
William let out a breath. Warmth crept up his cheeks, the look in Adathan’s eyes rendering him speechless.
Silence settled, broken only by the faint buzzing of the refrigerator and the whoosh of late-night drivers. William still had a lot to say, but the words evaded him. He couldn’t bring himself to listen to his thoughts anymore.
Peacefulness wrapped around them—a calm yet unshakable certainty that everything would be okay. William had never felt this kind of connection with anyone before. It was . . .
His mind began to blur, the edges of the room softening.
A tiny, distant voice tried to warn him it was fake, that he was being manipulated.
But he ignored it. He recognized it for what it was: his brain’s desperate attempt at rationalizing something that couldn’t be.
When had his reason ever helped him, anyway?
“You look cold,” Adathan said. “Should we get under the covers?”
William smiled. “Good idea.”
Adathan lay much closer to the center of the bed this time, and William made no attempt to put distance between them. He pulled the covers over them both and rested his head against his pillow, letting out a sigh. The warmth of his bed seeped into him, made him relax.
William’s eyelids grew heavy, drowsiness hitting him like a truck. What a week he’d had.
But tomorrow would be nice. They were going to get Adathan a library card. And go see the animals. And eat all the soup.
William tried to stay awake a little longer, but it was no use. He studied Adathan’s features one last time before succumbing to his need for sleep—to make sure he truly was okay.
His breath caught. How could someone be so beautiful?
“William?” Adathan whispered.
William blinked. “Yeah?”
“Can I sleep in your arms? Just for tonight?”
William’s heart melted into a puddle. He knew he should say no, but couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He didn’t want to think.
He lifted one arm and waited for Adathan to shift closer before wrapping it around him.
Adathan rested his head on William’s shoulder, pressing his warm body against him. The wonderful scent of his shampoo lured William in, made him smile, made him tighten his embrace. He ran his fingers through Adathan’s hair, relishing how smooth it was.
Adathan’s hand came to rest against William’s chest. His fingers danced across his skin, producing blissful chills in their wake. William couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good.
His lips brushed Adathan’s forehead. He inhaled deeply. Exhaled.
Just for tonight, he lied to himself as he started drifting off.
Softly, tenderly, he pressed a kiss.