ELIANO #7
At home, I allow myself a long shower to calm my nerves.
When I come out, Salt is still sitting on the bed, sketching.
I glance at him. He’s wearing a fairly thin top, and I can see his slim shoulders and the subtly but nicely defined lines of his muscles.
For a moment, the thought crosses my mind that we could pass the time with something physical, but I don’t have the nerve to suggest it. He probably thinks I’m an asshole now.
I do catch a few brief looks he throws my way, but I can tell this is not the right moment to start anything like that.
In the afternoon, the barbecue actually takes place, which surprises me a little, but once again it only highlights how bizarre this island really is.
The staff running the grill act as if nothing happened, their plastic smiles glued to their faces just like before.
The program participants themselves are different, though. It’s obvious that this morning’s events had an effect on them.
I keep noticing small clusters of people whispering to each other. At first I assume Salt and I will be isolated at our table, but I’m very wrong.
At one point, none other than Bashir and Fred walk up to us.
I stand up instinctively, unsure what Bashir is about to say or do.
But he just reaches out and grips my hand firmly.
"Thank you," he says seriously. "For everything. If you need anything, and if there’s any way I can help, you can count on me."
Well, look at that. I’ve gained at least one ally on this island. That’s something.
"It would be best if the situation on the island stabilized and no one needed help or interventions like this ever again," I add in a grim tone.
"I couldn’t agree more. But thank you anyway for what you did. Fred told me you offered help, and I’m guessing the video Drax mentioned came from you."
"I can assure you Fred’s face isn’t visible. His identity is protected."
"I figured," he says, his jaw twitching slightly.
This must be costing him a lot. As an alpha, and given our proud nature, the fact that he couldn’t protect Fred has to feel like a slap in the face.
I already know Bashir is one of the longest-standing participants in the program. When they arrived, he was twenty-five and Fred was eighteen. Now they’re both two years older. I assume he’s extremely protective of the younger beta, so what happened must be a nightmare for him.
"I’ll be honest, I’m thinking about putting in for a transfer to another facility, maybe one that uses hormone treatment. Even that sounds better than staying here."
"I’d give it a few days before you decide anything. Things on the island could change fast. I’ve heard that from someone I trust."
He tilts his head slightly, studying me, then sighs.
"We’ll see. This island feels tainted to me, but maybe there’s still a chance we can recover from this," he says, glancing at Fred, who looks pale but is pressed tightly against his side.
His light brown eyes meet mine, and he says just one word.
"Thank you. You kept your promise."
As they walk away, Salt shoots me a sideways look and says, "Wow. Look at youuu. You really are the white knight who tries to bring justice to those who need it. Too bad that doesn’t include my brother."
The bitterness of this jab hurts more than I expect, and for a moment I struggle to respond at all.
Finally, I force the words out.
"Acting impulsively isn’t my modus operandi, Salt. Just give me some time. I’ll work something out. I want to think it through, talk to the right people, and find the smartest way to handle this."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Salt mutters. "Think it through, Eliano. But I work differently. When I jump into something, I go in with both feet. That gives me a strong momentum to push through obstacles. There are no half measures for me."
I sigh. "Salt, I’m not saying I don’t want to do anything, or that this is just empty talk. This whole situation is messed up, and we have to be careful so it doesn’t end with us getting separated for good. I’ll think it through."
"You do you," Salt mumbles.
Then he stands up and walks over to the bar where they’re serving alcohol. He lingers there for a moment, choosing something, then comes back to the table and sets two beers in front of me, and the same in front of himself.
"I don’t usually drink," I say cautiously, although today I’m genuinely in the mood, and I find myself looking at the mugs a little more favorably.
"Come on, let me talk you into it. Might make both of us feel a little better. Cheers," Salt says, taking a halfhearted sip.
"Okay," I lift the mug to my mouth, but I’m immediately hit by how awful it smells.
Vodka.
"You spiked this with vodka, Salt? I’m an alpha. You do remember I have a good sense of smell?"
Salt rolls his eyes. "You’re so picky. It’s just a beer with a higher alcohol content."
"Don’t lie. It’s vodka. I don’t want to get wasted, Salt."
"Goddamn, you’re such a stiff! It’s annoying! Mafia guys should be more fun."
"I’m not mafia," I say coldly.
"Sure, whatever you say. But seriously, on a day like this, you could really loosen up."
I press my lips together.
Maybe it’s not worth fighting over?
So I start drinking, even though it makes my stomach twist. I’m absolutely certain Salt added a lot of vodka and maybe even some bitter brand like Polish Zoladkowa Gorzka.
But since I see that he’s drinking too, I assume maybe he just wants us both drunk so we can somehow get through the rest of the day.
Maybe he thinks it’ll make it easier for us to get close again?
His heat is slowly ending, by the smell of it, but it’s still on.
By the time I finish the first mug, I realize I’m getting drunk fast. Way too fast. Then, for the first time, it crosses my mind that maybe Salt wants me drunk for some additional reasons.
But since he’s drinking as well, I convince myself that if he were planning to run today, he wouldn’t be downing this much alcohol.
When I finish the second mug, I’m seriously drunk, and the stench of the spiked beer makes me want to puke. It tastes disgusting, and swallowing it is pure torture.
"How much vodka did you pour into this damn beer, half a bottle?"
"Something like that. Maybe more," Salt mumbles.
"The hell? Seriously? Are you out of your mind? I’m going back. I need to sleep this shit off."
I stand up, completely wrecked, my head buzzing, nausea rolling through me.
Salt stands too, but to my surprise he doesn’t seem nearly as drunk as I am. I grab his mug and bring it to my nose. I smell only beer.
"You didn’t spike yours?" I blurt out drunkenly.
"I get drunk on much smaller amounts," Salt says quickly, looking away.
Cursing under my breath, I head back toward our unit, with Salt following behind me.
But as I walk, my legs nearly give out and my head spins in this weird way, like I’ve been poisoned rather than drunk. Strange.
Muttering under my breath, I throw out,
"Did you add something extra to that drink? Why was it so bitter?"
Salt shrugs. "You’re just drunk, that’s all."
As soon as we’re inside, I collapse onto the bed, irritated and aware of how pointless all this drinking was.
I don’t know what it was supposed to accomplish.
It definitely didn’t heal anything between us.
I gave in because he pushed for it, and part of me feels like I owe him more flexibility after how our conversation went, but it was a mistake. Lesson learned.
I close my eyes, trying to drift into a light doze, when suddenly I feel Salt move closer. I immediately realize what’s happening when I register that he’s completely naked.
"Hold me, Eliano."
"What?"
His body presses against mine, writhing slightly, clinging to me. It feels good, I won’t deny that. He smells of candy, not of alcohol, which is a huge relief.
"I don’t know if this is a good idea. What if I throw up on you?" I mumble.
"You won’t. Please, do this for me. Hold me." I feel his hips pressing against mine. He’s hard.
"How… deeply am I supposed to hold you?" I mutter, then let out a stupid little giggle.
"As deep as possible," he whispers, and against my will I feel a wave of arousal forcing its way through the alcoholic haze in my head.
"Salt, I don’t know if everything’s going to work the way it should."
"It will. It already is. I can feel it," Salt murmurs, his hand brushing against my groin.
Without hesitation, Salt strips me and climbs on top of me. My eyes almost close on their own, but I feel him roll a condom onto my surprisingly hard cock, and then he slowly starts to sink down onto me.
This time it’s different from before. Now he’s lying on my chest, simply lowering his hips toward my cock and taking me that way.
It’s a strange sensation, and I don’t fully understand why he’s doing this when he knows it can’t be much of an exciting experience with me this drunk.
Still, in the end, I go along with it and let him do what he wants.
Soon I feel him start to move slowly on top of me, unhurried, almost gentle.
I hear him mumbling things that sound like, "Oh, Eliano, I wish it were different," or "Hold me, I want to remember this."
I want to ask him why he would want to remember today of all days.
A terrible thought starts growing inside me. I try to push it away, to ask if he lied when he said he wouldn’t run, and if, in fact, he plans to run, right now, today. But the words struggle to come out.
With great effort, I lift my arms and hold him, and suddenly I feel unexpected wetness on the cheek he’s pressed against.
Are those his tears?
A wave of fear tries to shake me, but I’m beyond saving now, free falling into unconsciousness, pretty sure he added something extra to this beer, not just vodka.
"Salt," I manage to whisper, "please don’t do this. Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it," I slur, barely forming the sentences, but I need to get it out. Desperately.
He doesn’t respond. I feel myself slipping even deeper into darkness. I cling to him, my fingers tightening on his shoulders.
"I… like you. A lot. And I want your love, Salt. Don’t you understand? That’s what I want for us. I want to give you love too. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I’ll figure something out. I promise…"
And then I drift away.
◆◆◆
I wake up to the quiet but persistent beeping of my wristband, competing with the pounding pain in my head, which somehow feels louder.
The moment I lift my head, an awful taste fills my mouth. Dizzy, I rush to the bathroom and vomit everything into the toilet.
Bitter, disgusting waves pour out of me.
"Fuck," I mutter. "That’s how drinking ends."
Silence answers me.
The smell is putrid and chemical. Did Salt give me a sleeping pill? I swallow thickly, straighten up, and go back into the room, my eyes drifting to the bed.
It’s empty.
The blanket on Salt’s side is smooth. Only my side is rumpled.
I blink a few times.
"No. Fuck, no. Not this. Please, not this," I choke out as a wave of terror and despair crashes over me.
Because I know.
Salt has run away from the island.