Page 56 of The Care of Broken Things
“Shut him up!” someone yelled. Usually he was pretty good at identifying people by their voices, but he wasn’t really listening. Panic was building. His lungs were starved for air, but he couldn’t stop. He just couldn’t stop.
“I swear to god if you don’t shut your bitch up—”
“Enough.” Eli didn’t shout it. He didn’t have to. His voice was deep enough to cut through other sounds. He thought the man was talking to the annoyed shouts, but maybe not, because a hand gripped the back of his neck and pushed his head lower, almost between his legs. “Breathe. Time it with me.” His wrist was seized next and pressed up against Eli’s chest. Nathaniel was always talking about Eli’s chest, and for good reason. It was wide and firm, big enough and strong enough to take on all the world’s troubles. He tried to jerk his hand away. That chest didn’t belong to him. He couldn’t have it. But Eli insisted. “Breathe,” he repeated. “Don’t think and just breathe.”
If he hadn’t already blown all his anger, that would have pissed him off. Don’t think? What was he supposed to do, forget who was touching him? He didn’t realize he was following directions until that awful pressure on his chest eased a bit. Without meaning to, he’d let his world become the movements of Eli’s chest. Up and out. Down and flat. Again and again, the warmth and rhythm soothing him against his will.
“There,” Eli said and pulled up on his wrists. “Now let’s get you out of these clothes. Lift your arms for me.”
But he didn’t lift his arms. Instead, he caught hold of Eli’s shoulders and shoved him down. The man’s back hit the mattress with awhump! but Eli showed no surprise, nor did he fight the hold. He just looked up at him, waiting for an explanation.
“I tell you I want to fuck, andhere you are trying to take my clothes off. Are you crazy or just stupid?”
“You hate sleeping in your day clothes.”
It was true. He couldn’t even take a nap without getting changed first.
“That’s not the point! If I kissed you right now, what would you tell Nathaniel? That you were just trying to get me ready for bed?”
“I don’t think you’re going to do that.”
It was the confidence in the words that riled him most. “I’m a loose cannon, remember? Who knows what I’ll do next? Even I don’t know anymore.”
Eli ignored the pressure on his shoulders and settled a hand in his hair. “I’m sorry. That must feel awful.”
“Don’t apologize to me!”
“Then what should I do? I hurt you. Look how much I hurt you.”
He batted the hand way. “Fuck that. I hurt myself.”
He was too tired for this, and even though he was speaking in a whisper (albeit, a sharp one) he was out of breath again. “Shit,” he hissed, and rolled off Eli. It was too nice to touch him. Even restraining him felt good.
He was still catching his breath when the arm snaked around his waist.
“What the fuck!”
“Come here.”
“The hell I will. Get off me.”
“I can’t. I’m anxious.”
“You? What do you have to be anxious about?”
“I’m in prison and my puppy won’t look at me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“My tits are cold.”
“That’s your fault for always sleeping without a shirt.”
But Eli pulled his head up onto his chest, and he, masochistic idiot that he was, didn’t fight it.
“This is stupid. I’ll get a boner for sure, and then Nat will divorce you.”
“Nat likes my dick too much to divorce me.”
