Page 22 of Trust

“Gotcha.”

“Fuck!” I laughed as he turned around, his bum nudging my groin.

“You can spoon me instead tonight,” he said, like this was normal.

“You cool with that?” This was not…normal. Or maybe it was.

“Boundaries, dude.” He was still moving around, shuffling under the covers, getting comfortable with his back against my stomach. I leant on my elbow so I could stuff a pillow under my neck.

“Sleep,” he grunted. “Shattered.”

“Yeah,” I said. I wrapped my arm around him and rested my forehead into his shoulder.

“Promise me something,” he said quietly. “I know I won’t see you again, but…if I can have something out of having spent today with you? I mean, you’re a total stranger, but we kind of bonded. And it’s been nice. So promise me, next time you need a mate, remember that I’m here. It would be good, you know, to catch up. Just text me sometime. Okay?”

“Arsehole,” I mumbled sleepily. “We are mates. You said so.”

I felt his laughter rumble against my arm and settle like a passing storm.

“Night, mate,” he said. I squeezed his chest, tapped my fingers against his arm.

I hadn’t taken my meds. But…

I slept. Fuck. I actually did.

Won't leave you

REUBEN

He left in the early hours of the morning, and I had a vague recollection of hearing his voice alongside my dad’s, hushed laughter blending into my sleep as I turned over in bed.

I woke later on, when my dad came in and sat on the edge of my bed, gesturing for me to sit up so he could hand me a cup of tea. Which I did, because tea in bed was my kryptonite and Dad knew me too well.

“We’re both on the afternoon shift, so I assume you want to come in with me?”

I nodded, sipping my tea.

My room smelt of…normality. Not even a faint whiff of anything being off.

“He’s a nice boy,” Dad said with a smirk.

“Stop it.” I huffed into my tea. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I know. He is a nice boy, though.”

“I’m not gay, Dad.”

It had to be said, as we’d had this convo before. There had never been any taboo subjects in this house. Reuben-the-kid had learned phrases and words no kids should have known, mostly from my mother, and then from school and other folks, but some from my dad as well. He was no saint. But that wasn’t important anymore. Where my mother had sometimes been an irresponsible parent, my dad had sat me down and explained the effects of illegal substances on our bodies and the danger of getting involved with dealers who were never going to be your friends. And we had even discussed…matters of the heart.

My dad had guts. Bigger balls than I’d ever had. And yet here we were. My balls felt smaller than peanuts.

“I know you’re not gay. But your boyfriend is.”

“Dad!” I shouted, spluttering my tea with laughter.

“Had to be said. He really likes you.”

“He’s been around for a day and you’re already marrying me off?”

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