19. Ezekiel
19
Ezekiel
I f I’d thought it would be easier to ignore my lust for Sam when he was distracted with work, I’d thought wrong. Turned out there was nothing hotter than Sam when he was concentrating. Than being able to greedily gobble up every detail of him while his attention was elsewhere.
Every inch of him was perfect, and the more I studied him, the more details I noticed. Everything from how his hair curled as it hit the back of his neck to the freckles that dusted his forearms and hands.
Nate had taken his laptop, promising to try and work some magic on it. From the wince he shot me when Sam wasn’t looking, it wasn’t promising, but hopefully Nate would be able to recover his files at least.
He’d given Sam a brand-new laptop from his shelves. Sam had blushed and tried to refuse it out of politeness, until I’d rolled my eyes and accepted it for him.
Sam needed to work. To do that, he needed a laptop. If his brain couldn’t allow him to accept it from Nate, then maybe it would allow him to accept it from me.
From how his fingers were now flying over the keyboard, my instincts had once again been correct. He’d hesitated long enough to check his phone and, on seeing how much work he had waiting for him, had hopped right to it.
I’d set him up at the desk by the window. It hadn’t been in here before yesterday, and I made a mental note to thank whichever of my unit was responsible for that thoughtful touch. They’d even put in a standalone monitor, keyboard, and mouse, along with a long extension cable. The chair Sam was sat in was unfamiliar too. It was fancy, some ergonomic design none of us would bother with. But then again, none of us could suffer from things like backache or repetitive strain injury. The fact that someone had taken that into consideration for my mate, well, it made me all the more grateful for my unit.
I was lounging on the end of Sam’s bed, pretending to read. The book on anthropology had been pinched from Benji’s library not long after I’d concocted the professor story. It alleviated my guilt somewhat to learn about it, like I wasn’t really lying if I was studying it.
It was a stretch. Studying wasn’t teaching it. Plus, I think you had to make it past the foreword for it to actually count as studying.
Still, it was a good prop for me to have while I engaged in the only activity currently worth pursuing.
By which I meant, staring at my mate as he worked. I might’ve got to know him over the internet and phone, but being around him showed how much more I had to learn. Every minute that passed seemed to reveal something new. How his nervous movements ceased when he was focused. The way he flicked his tongue over his lower lip as he debated between colours. The small satisfied nod he’d give before saving a graphic. How he’d get closer to his screen when something wasn’t quite working the way he wanted it to.
I wasn’t interested in anthropology. Studying society and humans held no appeal for me.
But studying Sam? I could go for a fucking doctorate in it.
I was marvelling at how the muscles in his hands flexed as he typed when suddenly he stiffened. “Fuck!”
I had him shielded in a second. Leaping to my feet, I let loose a growl. “What? What is it?”
“I forgot my meds,” he muttered, fortunately not seeing me. I straightened from the crouch I’d instinctively dropped into, ready to defend him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. ”
Clearing my throat, I tried to get my pulse to settle. Who knew having a mate would put me so…on edge? “Have you got them with you?”
“Yes,” he was rummaging around in his bag again.
“Okay, I’ll grab you some water. You can take them now, and it’ll be fine.”
When I returned with a bottle of water, Sam was sat on the edge of the bed. There was a small silver packet of tablets in his hands. His shoulders were slumped, his head hanging low. “Sam? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer, just shook his head. The packet in his hand rattled slightly.
Frowning, I put the bottle down and knelt at his feet. “Baby? What is it? Talk to me.”
“I didn’t take my medication,” he said slowly. “I forgot it. Again.”
I knew that already. “That’s okay, you can take it now, right?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
The packet turned over and over in his hands. “Because I might have already taken it.”
“But you just said you didn’t.” I was so confused. Had he taken them or not?
“But what if I’m wrong?” His head lifted and the sight of his shining eyes was like a kick to the sternum. “Maybe I already took them, and if I take another, I could overdose.”
I was about to point out how absurd that was, but managed to catch myself before I did. This is his OCD speaking. Remember what Benji said — what’s logical for most people can be unfathomable for Sam.
Taking the packet from his hands, I put it on the floor beside us and then took his hands in mine. “These tablets, what are they?”
“SSRIs,” he said, elaborating when he saw the question on my face. “Anti-depressants, but these are specifically for anxiety and conditions like OCD.”
“Okay.” I racked my brain for anything I knew about anti-depressants. Frustratingly, not enough, but you could bet I’d be picking Benji’s brain as soon as Sam was asleep for the night. “Am I right in thinking you can have different dosage levels?”
“Yes.” Sam’s brows furrowed, not seeing where I was going with this.
“Are you on the maximum dose?”
“No, I’m on a hundred milligrams. It’s half the maximum of what you can take.”
“So if you do take an extra tablet, you won’t be overdosing, right? I mean, it’s not ideal, but you won’t be medically in danger.”
Sam’s frown deepened as he thought about it. “But what if I’ve taken multiple this morning? This might not be the first time I’ve thought about it. Maybe I realised earlier and took one. This could be the third one I’ve taken.”
“Or you might not have taken any,” I said gently. Benji had said reassurance wasn’t good in the long term, but like fuck was I going to watch my mate spiral and not try to help. “I’ve been with you since shortly after you woke up. You haven’t taken any tablets while you’ve been with me.”
Sam’s eyes started to clear slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Positive, baby.” I squeezed his hands for emphasis. “Does that help? Can you take it now?”
His gaze darted to the meds on the floor as he chewed on his lip. Then, ever so slowly, he shook his head in defeat. “No. I’m sorry. I’m so fucked up. You shouldn’t have to put up with th?—”
I silenced him with a kiss, keeping my mouth on his until I felt him relax into me. Only then did I pull away, knowing what to ask next. “Will it make you sick if you miss a dose today?”
“Um, no.” He looked slightly punch drunk now, which I’d take over anxious. “I have to miss them for, like, three days before I’ll get any side effects.”
“Okay, then we’ve got time to make a plan. Have you considered using one of those pill boxes?” I was sure something like that was available, right? A quick Google would help me find one, I was certain.
Sam pulled his hands from mine, giving me a tight smile. “It’s alright, Zeke. This isn’t on you. I can deal with this alone.”
I stared at him in confusion. “Of course you can, but you have me now, so you don’t need to.”
He was shaking his head, not meeting my eyes. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t expect you or anyone else to make allowances for me. I can manage.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m saying I want to help.”
Sam tried to stand, but with me between his knees, he couldn’t. He tried twice before realising I wasn’t going to move. Dropping back onto the bed with an exasperated sigh, he raised his brows. “Seriously? You’re gonna keep me pinned here?”
“I am if you’re going to be a muppet,” I said. There was none of my usual temper in my words, just the utter conviction that this was the right thing to do. “You can do this alone, but now you don’t need to. Unless that’s actually what you want?”
“Of course it’s not.” My temper might’ve been under control, but from the colour steadily climbing from under Sam’s collar, his wasn’t. “I fucking hate going it alone, but what other option do I have, Zeke? Everyone who has tried to help me has failed. They’ve failed because I can’t be helped. Don’t you get that?”
“I do, but I think you’re wrong. I’m not saying I can fix you. You don’t need fixing. But I can help you, Sam, if you’ll let me.”
“You say that now, but then you’ll leave.” The laugh he let out was full of bitterness. It made me want to track down everyone who’d put it there, who’d taught him to expect the worst, and end them in the most painful way possible. “Everyone leaves me, Zeke. They all think they can put up with it, but they can’t. And that’s fine. Even I can’t cope with me most days. I don’t expect anyone else to either.” He lifted his chin and frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“Because.” I let my grin grow wider. “Because I know I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m not leaving, Sam. Not unless you make me.”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes searching mine for any hint that I was giving him false hope. I let him look as much as he wanted, knowing he’d never find it.
“What if my OCD makes you leave?”
“No,” I said calmly. “Your OCD cannot make me leave, only you can. If I’m being brutally honest about it, the odds of me leaving even then are slim to none. I’ll just camp out on your roof until you forgive me.”
“My roof? That’s oddly specific.” His lips twitched, a little of his usual self finally breaking the surface. “Is this one of your weirdly intense moments?”
I winced internally. Yeah, promising him eternity when I’d had him in my house for less than twenty-four hours was probably a bit much, but my instincts were telling me this was okay. That Sam needed to hear it. “It is, but I do mean it.”
He sighed. “Well, we’ll see who’s right in the end, I guess.”
“We will.” Would it be wrong of me to rub it in in the future? Sam didn’t know we were mates, but when he did, he’d probably roll his eyes at me for knowing this all along. “Until then, will you let me help you? Please?”
He tensed before letting his breath whoosh out. “I’ll try. That’s the best I can do.”
I grinned. “I’ll take it.”