CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
ELIO
Saint enters the living room on a sunny Thursday afternoon with a glass of water for Dr. Khadija.
She’d just arrived about ten minutes ago, and we were both getting ready to start our session today.
She pulls her notebook from her brown messenger bag and sets her timer, placing the phone on the side stool.
I knot my hands together, somewhat nervous about this session, but I have had the time to speak with Saint about how I’ve been feeling, and he’s really been a great listener.
Dr. Khadija looks at me and smiles before she gestures toward me. “Would you like to stand? I don’t mind.”
I press my lips into a thin line and get on my feet, pacing the living room in quick strides. I take in deep breaths, my shoulders rising, chest heaving as I try to calm myself. I focus on the things around me.
The new art painting on the wall. Cross had gotten it for his brother after attending an art fair in the city yesterday. He didn’t stay long at the apartment, but we got to speak about his interest in the arts.
The thought of that evens out my heartbeat, and my lips curl into a proud smile as I settle down on the couch.
“Good work.” She compliments.
Saint stands in the kitchen making lunch, and I’m so eager to see what he comes up with. He’s not exactly perfect at making meals, but I really appreciated his dedication, especially to me.
“Do you want to start today?” She asks calmly.
“Yeah.” I nod sternly. “It’s been a great week. I have not thought about hurting myself, and my bullet wound is healing really well.”
“Hmm,” she scribbles in her notes. “In our last session, you mentioned that your uncle killed your parents…”
“Yes, I wasn’t aware until that night. He’d kept that secret from me for the past seventeen years.”
“And how did you feel about it?”
“Horrified. Furious.”
“Even as he came to the house.”
“Yeah, I had to sit with that feeling all on my own, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I thought maybe all those years of maltreatment from him could have stemmed from his guilt, but coming to the house to show me his scars isn’t the first time he’s enforced that dynamic.”
“What dynamic?”
“He comes home furious and perturbed. He takes out his frustration on me. I knew in that moment he would hurt me from the punishment he’d gotten from those morons.”
“Was that enough to make you want to defend yourself?”
“No, I didn’t want to. I just wanted to get away from him. I stood up to him one time and narrowly escaped with my life.” My hands move over the blotched circles around my neck. “But when he pinned me to the ground and strangled me, I knew I had to fight back.”
“You were defending yourself, Elio. If the roles were reversed…”
“He’d be halfway across the country, and I would be dead.
” I knew that. I knew that if I had died that night, he wouldn’t have even done the honor of burying me.
He would have left me there to bleed out on the ground and taken to his heels.
But my mind keeps replaying his gurgled words in my head.
You are. Monster. Reminding me that I had let the ugliness boil over instead of keeping it at bay like I always have.
Dr. Khadija doesn’t miss the look of confusion on my features. She waits for me to open up to her.
“He said I was a monster.”
“But you’re not. As a child, you interpreted the emotions you felt the same way he treated you.
You thought if you slam a door or worse, get into a fight, you’d lose it and do something you can’t get back from.
That’s not the case. He would have killed you, and just because you retaliated in defense doesn’t mean you’re like him.
You’ve had to put up with years of his abuse.
That’s enough to make someone break.” She leans forward and watches me intently.
“I need you to define who you are to yourself. Not what he sees you as. Not what you grew up seeing. He’s dead. He doesn’t have any power over you.”
“I’m not sure who I am. Going to college was a way to leave him behind.”
“You have all the time in the world to figure that out.” She says just as her alarm rings. She picks it up and taps her screen, and the sound dies off. “Take your time. Find something you’ll love. This is a new chapter for you, Elio, and the only way for you to feel better is to try new things.”
“Alright, thank you.”
“Of course, you’re welcome, and I’m here for you.” She pulls out her contact from her bag. “In case you ever want to speak with me, call me.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll see you next week.”
When she leaves, I take my time to sit through the emotions I’m feeling before I join Saint in the dining room.
He’s setting up the place for lunch. He looks up at me with a smile while I move to the cabinet to get clean plates.
I rinse them in the sink and circle the counter to the dining table. “Here.” I say.
“How was your session?”
“It went fine.”
“I made stew, eggs, yams, and potatoes. It’s not perfect, but…” He rambles off, but I stop him in his tracks.
“It doesn’t have to be. I love everything you do, darling.” I hold his cheeks, and he smiles at me. “Can we drive out later in the evening? To a guitar shop, maybe?”
“You want me to learn how to play again?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Hmm, come here.” He pulls me closer and presses a kiss on my forehead.
My pulse stutters as a heavyweight settles on my shoulder. “Um, Saint?”
“Yeah.”
“I know we haven’t touched each other in a while.”
“Hey, you’re not only important to me for sex. I need you to feel better, to heal, and to find yourself again. Seeing you working toward getting better is enough.” He promises.
I bob my head and smile at him.
We sit around the table and eat in silence. When we finish, I take my medication while he clears the dishes, then we head upstairs to shower and get ready. After taking our time in the shower, he replaces my old bandage with a new one. We get dressed and head out of the penthouse together.
The drive around the city is soothing. I have the window wound down and my hand resting against the door, the cool air billowing against my skin as music plays from the stereo.
The sun sits at the edge of the dark and dreamy horizon when we arrive at a guitar shop in the suburbs.
Saint and I exit the vehicle together and step through the glass door entrance.
The place is perfect. The air carries the scent of old leather and polished wood. Guitars line the walls from floor to ceiling, their lacquered bodies catching the light.
Saint and I approach the old man standing behind the table. “Hey, how can I help you?”
“We are looking to buy a guitar.” I say, voice bubbling with excitement.
“You play?”
“No, he does.” I point to Saint, who has his eyes on the several acoustic guitars on display.
“Come on, let me show you what I’ve got.”
The man shows us around until Saint finds what’s perfect for him.
He fastens his hand around the red acoustic guitar and lifts it off the display.
38 inches of gleaming red wood, smooth beneath the fingertips.
Perfect. “This one.” He looks at me with genuine enthusiasm.
I have never seen his eyes light up the way they do in this moment.
A gentle smile spreads across my face before I can stop it.
“This one’s perfect.”
We return to the counter, and he pays for the guitar, then we leave through the doors and get in the car. He carefully put the guitar in the back seat. He turns on the engine, and we drive back to the penthouse.
When we get to the top of the penthouse, my chest feels even lighter when his gleaming eyes meet mine.
We sit in the living room together. He unzips the guitar from the gig bag.
His hand fastens around the musical instrument, and he runs his fingers over the strings, producing an uneven melody.
“I’m a bit rusty.” He clears his throat and taps his feet on the floor.
“I don’t mind. We have all the time in the world.”
Anticipation buzzes through his veins as his fingers hover over the strings.
The next chord comes out uneven. He adjusts his grip and tries again.
Familiar notes slowly begin to emerge, and the corner of his lip quirks up into a fulfilled smile.
He stops suddenly and sets the guitar aside.
“I would very much like to kiss you right now, Elio.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
He closes the gap between us effortlessly.
Lips crashing against mine, my pulse dances beneath my skin as I swing my hands around his shoulder and pull him closer.
Butterflies erupting in my stomach is an understatement.
An entire flock takes flight inside me. My insides are a riot of restless excitement, impossible to ignore.
Saint’s mouth parts, and I slide my tongue into him.
Tasting. Lips and teeth crashing so intensely, it’s dizzying.
When he breaks the kiss, his hand lifts to my flushed cheek.
He caresses gently with the back of his palm, and a smile cracks on his lips.
“You have given me everything and more, baby. My heart, my soul, every fucking thing that’s mine is yours. I’m forever grateful.”
“You have given me even more.” I place my head against his and breathe in his scent, kissing him one more time.
He lifts me into his arms and takes me up to the bedroom.
My back rests on the soft sheets of the bed while he towers over me.
“Get naked, baby. Let me show my devotion.” He leans closer, voice deepening into a low timbre.
I look at him under hooded eyes, pleasure rising within me until it settles against my skin.
Warm and aching. My heart tries to claw its way out of my chest. My trembling hands find the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.
He kneels between my thighs and pulls down my pants.
He takes off his clothes so that he’s naked with me as well. “Sit.” He says.
I swallow hard and sit up. He takes my hand and places it on his chest. His heart hums against his ribcage in quiet anticipation. “Yours.”
He moves my hand all over his corded muscles, over the black-inked tattoos.
“All of me, yours.”
He takes my hand down to his dick. “My dick, yours.”
“Mine.” I agree, my voice steady and sharp.
“Lie back, baby.”
I lay before him, exposed. Every nerve in my body hums with life.
His eyes move over my skin slowly, not with hunger, but with quiet appreciation, as though he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.
And the way he looks at me doesn’t change even when his eyes take in the point where the bandage covers my scars.
“My Elio.” His voice is hoarse. He leans close and presses a kiss on my forehead.
“Mine.” He growls. He moves down to my lips and kisses me again.
“Mine.” His eyes lift to me, holding steady.
An aching breath spills out of my lungs, setting every part of me on fire.
I grip the white sheets of the bed and arch into him.
He smirks and presses another kiss on my chest.
“Mine.”
His lips rest on my belly.
Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.
“Mine.”
A gasp leaves my lips as tears well in my eyes. Something about the way he touches and praises my body unravels me bit by bit.
His lips drop on my dick. “Mine, Elio, mine.”
“Saint…” His name gurgles out of my throat, laced with indescribable pleasure. “Darling.”
“I love it when you call me that.” His eyes snap to mine, and his grin widens. He chuckles. A low thrum of sound echoes off his solid chest. “I’m yours, baby. Yours.” He presses another kiss on my belly. “Can you lie on your stomach?” He whispers against my skin.
“No, it will hurt.” He shakes his head.
“Um…” his expression contorts as he ponders. He’s not giving up on whatever he wants to do yet. “Come on.” He gets off the bed and stands on his feet, looking around the room. “I want to kiss your spine.”
“Kiss my spine?” My brow lifts as I get on my feet.
“Yeah. Get your hands on the mirror. Carefully.”
I stand in front of the mirror and take a look at myself. Saint stands behind me. His hands rest around my shoulders as he leans closer and presses a kiss on my back.
A shiver runs through my body, and my lips part in a gasp.
“Mine.”
Another kiss.
“Mine.”
Kiss
“Mine.”
He goes on his knees, kissing me all the way from my neck down to my tailbone. The tears I’ve been trying to hold back slide down my cheeks, leaving a burning trail.
“Yours, baby, yours,” I whine, gritting my teeth as pleasure overcomes me. He gets back on his feet, and I turn around and meet his intense gaze. He searches my eyes as his thumb swipes over my cheeks. He smiles and kisses my lips one more time.
A distracting buzz comes from his pocket. He doesn’t break eye contact even when the call comes in the third time.
“It could be something urgent.” I tell him before he finally lets me go to pick up his phone. His expression hardens when he sees the name on the screen. He receives the incoming call and turns away from me.
“I need you at my office right now.”
“Now? Can we meet tomorrow?”
“Right now, Saint! If you’re not here in thirty minutes…” his deep voice comes off with a lethal threat.
“I’m on my way, sir.” He answers and hangs up. He tosses the phone onto the bed and returns to me.
“You need to go, I’ll be here when you’re back.” I promise and reach up to his cheeks. “He doesn’t have power over you or us.” I smile at him, and he shuts his eyes and heaves a loud, relieving sigh, leaning into my touch.
He grumbles under his breath and looks at me. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Neither do I, but it’s your father. It could be business.” I remark.
“Fine,” he agrees and steals a last kiss from me. “I will think of you all night.”
“And I, you.” I smile at him. “And I will make dinner.”
“Sure.”
He hurries to the bathroom to shower. I’m lying on the bed when he joins me for another kiss before he leaves. In his absence, a hollow feeling settles in my chest, knowing full well how homophobic his father is. I hope he makes it back to me in one piece.