Page 8 of Surviving the Merge
I wasn’t used to seeing him unhinged. Up until Damon's return, Blake had always been the most even-keeled, level headed person I’d known. Lately, he showed signs to the contrary, and I didn’t know what to do about it. Well, that wasn’t completely true. The truth? I did know what to do about it, but I wasn’t strong enough to get it done. I tried. For six weeks. Look where that got us.
Blake ignored me, continuing to aggressively remove his clothing before getting into the shower.
I pushed off the door jamb, undressed, and joined him; he instantly tensed up.
“Justin—”
“Let me take care of you for a change.” Before he could object, I tilted his head under the spray of water, lathered his hair, and massaged his scalp. My hands worked their way down his neck, taking time to knead his shoulders before moving on to his back. Although close to him in terms of actual distance, an unseen chasm separated us. The heat usually felt from being so close now felt tepid at best, despite the dense, hot moisture in the air. It worried me. I didn’t know whether to push for communication after all or wait until he decided to open up.
His muscles held much tension. Coiled tight, as if waiting to strike out. My anxiety nearly matched his own. By the time I reached his hands—which were balled into fists—I knew something else needed to be done to relax him.
“You’re safe with me,” I whispered while taking him in hand. His warm breath skated across my lips as he rested his forehead against mine. I repeated my declaration and kept my movements firm and sure. Blake slowly unclenched his fingers, his shoulders lowered away from his ears. “That’s it,” I crooned. “Let go, baby.” A few more minutes of increased pressure and speed, and let go was exactly what he did. “I love you.”
“Say it again,” he begged.
And I did. Over and over again.
After the shower, we lay in bed entwined with one another, and I decided to broach the subject of what happened outside the restaurant.
“That wasn’t like you, Josh flirts with everyone, and I’m pretty sure he couldn’t pass a sobriety test tonight. You usually take his comments in stride. What was different this time?”
He took an interest in the ceiling paint. Thinking about my query. “I don’t know. He exhaled. “It was a long night. I’ll apologize tomorrow.”
I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask, “Was it… Is he…?”
He shook his head no but murmured, “Yes. He is.”
With that, he kissed the top of my head, turned off the light, and pulled me closer. I remained awake, listening to him breathe. He hadn’t fallen asleep; his heart galloped a mile a minute against the ear I had pressed to his chest.
“I’m terrified, Justin,” he achingly admitted. His fear was reflected in the trembling of his voice, the increased pressure of his arms around me. “Terrified I’m losing you, that I’m losing myself.”
“You’ll never lose me, Blake,” I promised, scooting up to kiss him. The kiss deepened, and I didn’t like the edge of desperation coming off him in waves. It only fueled my fears. I needed Blake to be the calm one.
His movements were hurried, uncoordinated. Like a man being pulled away by an unseen force while trying to hold on to the anchor in front of him. I had to be the strong one for him tonight. I had to keep him from being dragged away.
“Let’s get some sleep,” I said, stroking the pulse at his neck. Willing it to calm beneath my hands. He eventually drifted off, but I lay there for hours, contemplating.
* * *
“Watchingthe rain never gets old to you, does it?”
I turned away from the stretch of window overlooking Kisla’s bustling downtown business district, where Julie’s office resided on the twentieth floor. She’d entered the room, making her way over to the seating area. “No. I suspect it never will.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “Come, have a seat.”
I strolled over to the couch, leaving my favorite place behind. Julie didn’t waste time diving right in.
“I’d like to gauge what your idea of normalcy is with Damon. Tell me one of your fondest memories of him, your worst memory, and what made them that way.”
I didn’t need to think too long. My fondest and worst memory of Damon lay tied together, and one I thought back on from time to time.
“I met Damon when I transferred to Chadwick High School.” My third transfer. “We became friends, and shortly after, he got me a job at Elite. Below the legal age limit, but Damon knew someone. I’d been a dancer for most of my life, but this… This was different.”
I paused. Thinking back on that night was one thing; saying it out loud was another. It made it more real than I believed myself comfortable with. Despite the events that happened then, I’d still do it again.
Julie’s warm smile encouraged me to go on. I licked my lips and heaved through.
“He asked me one day why I didn’t dance from the heart. He said, ‘When I see you on stage, it all seems mechanical. Scripted. You’re never going to get where you want to be if your dancing relies on what’s in your head.’”
