Chapter Twenty Seven
Aaron
The back alley of the club is lit by one streetlight and there’s random trash littered all over the small street.
Benjamin’s leaning against the brick wall—head back, cigarette between his fingers as he takes a drag.
He’s humming the tune of some song I don’t know as he watches the stars—glittering and so fucking beautiful.
Like he just fell straight out of the sky.
As if sensing me, his head rolls to the right to look directly at me.
“Ah, fuck. He’s found me.” Benjamin says.
“Hey.” I walk toward him but surprisingly he doesn’t move. Doesn’t run.
“He’s everywhere. I thought I’d finally gotten away.” He keeps narrating—speaking to his audience of empty cans and banana peels.
“You were amazing.” I stand in front of where he’s leaning—trying not to look at his pushed-out hips, his stomach, his waist. He grins around the cigarette between his lips.
“And you were a narcissistic liar.” Ouch. I didn’t come to fight him. I just need to get him home.
“Let’s get you home.” Benjamin blows his smoke in my face, free hand shoving his hair off of his forehead.
“No, thanks. I’ll find better company to take home with me.” This fucking prick. He’s doing it on purpose—trying to piss me off.
“Not tonight—Felix asked me to get you home.” He laughs, staring back up at the stars as if I’m not right in front of him.
“He’s so bossy. Always so bossy. Must be an age thing.
” His narrations would be funny if they didn’t make me feel so damn invisible.
I watch his throat work when he swallows.
As he lights a new cigarette—as his lashes flutter.
I keep trying to get a glimpse of his tongue piercing but I’m unsuccessful.
“Must be. Come on.” I reach for his arm, and his eyes snap to mine. I freeze. I see the warning there. I feel the anger—the tension rolling off of his body.
“Touch me and I scream, Aaron Archer.” My chest aches. I stare down at him, not knowing what to say. “If you wanted to have rights to drag me around and tell me what to do then maybe you shouldn’t have been such a dick.”
I’m done with him acting like an angry kitten with his claws out. He’s being a brat and I just want to help him. I have to help him.
“Listen here—” I start, and I’m realizing I fell into his trap. He wants a fight. His eyes light up, a small smile forming on his face as he looks me up and down.
“I’m listening.” Is all he says.
“I’m not going to stand here and fight with you like you’re some middle-schooler. Let’s fucking go. I want to go home tonight too.” This isn’t the kind of fight he’s looking for.
“Go away, Aaron. I won’t leave with you.”
I hate being mean to him—I hate forcing his hand. But he’s really fucked up and I promised my brother I’d get him home. So—I lunge forward, wrapping a hand around the button on his chest. He stands up straight, eyes on my hand, chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Let it go, Aaron. I’m serious. Let it go.” I don’t. I let my skin sear into his—I let the button warm in my palm, ignoring the ache in my chest as it grows hotter and hotter.
“Come with me or I’m taking this and leaving alone.” I hear his breath hitch and after a moment he looks up at me—and he’s crying.
“I hate you.” He whispers. “You’d take this from me too?” I can’t help myself—can’t stop.
My free hand reaches up, holds his cheek, feels him leaning into it.
He’s covered in gold—all heat and sweat and smoke.
When his eyes peer up at mine again, my knees feel weak.
He’s so small all of a sudden. Curled up in my palm—nothing more than a pile of tears as he begs me to let him keep hold of his happiness—his comfort.
“Please, Button. Come home.” Hazel eyes are watching mine, wet and sad.
But as soon as I let go of his necklace Benjamin shoves me as hard as he can, forcing me to stumble a few steps back.
We stare at each other, panting, trying to figure out how the fuck we got here.
How we went from laying on the concrete, bathing under the sun in silence to a random club—hurting each other more and more.
He looks so much like that sixteen-year-old boy—but nothing like him at all.
“Benjamin….” I can hear it in my voice. The shock, the hurt, the sadness. He can too.
Benjamin stands up straight, runs a hand through his hair, and takes a deep breath.
“Alright, Aaron. If we have to—then let’s go.” He turns, walking toward the street.
The walk to his apartment will take about ten minutes if memory of this city serves me right. Benjamin is muttering to himself and stumbling over rocks. Once he almost eats shit for the third time, he wraps his index finger around one of my belt loops.
“Do you—”
“No. Fuck you.” I laugh at him because I just can’t wrap my head around his attitude—his anger. “Don’t laugh at me.” He glares.
“I’m not laughing at you. I think it’s endearing.” He flips me off with the hand not hooked to me. “A lot of fire for the guy who needs me to stand.”
Benjamin makes a big show of letting go of me, raising both hands, and smirking right at me. And he looks so smug and confident—until he starts to topple right over.
I snatch him up around the waist—breathing in his hair, his little squeal, him being here with me.
How many times will we be forced apart? For how long will he hate me?
“Let me go.” He demands, but his body is limp, he’s not fighting me. “I’ll kill you.” He sounds vicious and slurred.
I set him upright, but when he doesn’t push away, I pull him tighter against me. His hair is so soft—tickling my face, my neck. His back fits so well against my chest. So familiar and warm. I feel his hands rest on my thighs, shaking just slightly.
I run a hand up his stomach, so softly. Not to turn him on—not to push things further. I just want to touch him, any part of him I can. That hand runs up to his shoulder under his jacket and he’s shuddering so softly in my arms.
“Benjamin.” I whisper, and I feel him swallow roughly, hands tightening where they rest on my thighs.
“What?” He keeps his voice angry—distant.
“I miss you.” His head falls forward, chin touching his chest. I press my face into his neck—breathing him in again. I’m trying to figure out on which part of him I can smell him best.
“It’s your fault.” Benjamin’s anger—it’s mixed with sorrow now. He tilts his head back and stares right up at me—eyes wide and so honest. I can see in them how fucked up he is. “I would’ve stayed by your side forever. You did this.”
And all I can do is nod—because he’s right. In one way or another, it is my fault.
“I know. Let’s take you home.”
Benjamin lets me keep an arm around his waist as we walk and I use the time to memorize the feel of his skin again.
The apartment is on the second floor, so I have to put Benjamin in front of me—either helping him walk up the next step or picking him up and placing him on it myself.
It takes a few minutes for us to reach the door.
“Aaron, the keys are here.” He shoves a hand into his front pocket, using the other to balance himself by pressing it against the door. “I’ll find it—hold on.”
I keep a hold of his hip as he looks. I watch him search both pockets twice before he finds the key in the first pocket he felt in.
Benjamin looks up over his shoulder at me and grins—trying not to giggle.
“That’s so my bad. It was hiding.” I can’t help but start smiling back at him.
“Come on, let’s get this glitter off your face and put you in something comfortable.”
“Kay.”
He’s so docile now—letting me guide him, move him—letting me stay. I take him to the bathroom connected to his room and sit him on the sink.
“Wait a minute. How’d you know?” He’s narrowing his eyes at me—leaning forward slightly. I place a hand on his chest to keep him from falling forward straight off the ledge.
“Know what?”
“Which room was mine.” Oops. He’s raising a brow. I grab a rag from the shelf over the toilet.
“Ah, well… Felix invited me over once, so I saw his room and it’s common sense that…” Benjamin is grinning at me again and it’s so fucking intoxicating.
“You little pervert. How many times have you been in my room?” He places a hand on my shoulder as I use the now-wet rag and start to wipe the glitter off of his cheeks—chin grasped in my other hand.
“Only a few times.”
“Why? To stare at my undies? To steal my socks?” He thinks this is fucking hilarious—which in turn is making me feel like it’s hilarious. I chuckle.
“No—you weirdo. I just… wanted to be near you. To smell you.” His big eyes are staring up at me, and I only know he’s gone from joking to serious because his bottom lip is trembling just slightly. I look him in the eyes. “What?”
“I don’t understand.” Benjamin’s eyes are watering—that sweet hazel so precious to me. I kiss one eye—then the other, catching the tears before they fall. “You confuse me. I’m always so confused. Why aren’t I scared when you touch me?”
Ah—fucking damnit. It doesn’t matter how much time we’ve been apart or how much he claims to hate me. I’m still his safest place.
“Because I’d never do anything to you that you didn’t want. You know that. I spent almost two years barely ever touching you—and I lived with you for some of it.” He chokes out a small laugh, nodding softly in my hands.
“True.” Then Benjamin sighs and his whole body relaxes—tension dissipating as if his body is telling me, okay Aaron—you’re turn to take watch, okay? You protect us now.
I keep washing his face and then I watch him sloppily brush his teeth. He keeps one hand on me the entire time.