Page 6 of Fortress
No.Tobias threw himself backward, scrambling away from Jake. He reached the end of the mattress and fell onto his back on the floor, then curled up tight, knees to his chest and armswrapped around them with his head buried between them. Bile crawled up his throat.
“Toby?” Jake sounded bewildered.
Tobias shuddered, swallowing convulsively. He wanted to scratch his skin off. He might actually be sick, but he couldn’t do that in front of Jake or in Roger’s guest room—
“Bathroom,” he managed, and forced himself to his feet, lunging for the door.
Inside, he shut the door and slid again to his knees, pressing his forehead to the wooden panel. He might still be sick. Cold flashes ran over his skin, leaving chilled sweat. Had he felt good before? Now every nerve felt wrong, disgusting, in a terribly familiar way.
He wasn’t supposed to forget this.Thiswas how freaks were meant to feel.
“Toby?” Jake was closer, his tone worried. He’d probably gotten out of bed even though it’d hurt him.
“I’m okay,” Tobias called without opening his eyes. “Just give me a minute.”
He waited to hear Jake’s footsteps slowly lead back toward the bed. He stayed where he was, forehead pressed to the wood, knees against the tile, focusing on his hard grip around his own ankle.
He wouldn’t hurt himself. Jake had told him not to. That had been the very first Rule. He didn’t know what he should do instead, but at least he wouldn’t do that.
Finally, his heart rate slowed enough that he could unlock his hand around his ankle and gingerly try to push himself up. His muscles had cramped, and he stumbled a little. As much as he wanted to spend the rest of the night in the bathroom, he didn’t think that would be allowed.
He washed his hands without looking at himself in the mirror, then reentered the bedroom. He’d hoped without realexpectation that Jake might be asleep already, but he was still sitting up with the lamp on next to him.
Tobias didn’t look at him as he got into bed, turning to face the wall away from Jake and pressing his hands between his knees.
“Hey. Toby, man.” Jake still sounded worried and maybe like they ought to talk, but Tobias couldn’t.
“Goodnight, Jake,” he said into the corner of his pillow.
After a moment, Jake sighed, shifting to lie down as well. “Night.”
The creak of a door, accompanied by soft footsteps, woke Jake; not instantly, but with the sort of slow-engine turnover that made it a real challenge to crack his eyes more than halfway open. It was good, waking up like that, because it meant he was somewhere instinct said he didn’t need to worry about who might come in, didn’t have to keep one hand on his knife and his other arm around Toby.
WherewasToby?
The urgency of that question opened his eyes the rest of the way, but it was answered immediately by the boy standing right in front of him like the sweetest of fantasies (the G-rated ones, anyway), with a mug of coffee and a plate of something that smelled delicious.
Toby smiled at him, then set the mug and plate—toast and jam with two pills on the side—on the bedside table. He looked good, happy and healthy, and Jake couldn’t forget the nagging worry about why Toby was up and getting breakfast already and why the place beside Jake was empty except for a forlorn not-Toby pillow pushed down by his knees. Most mornings whenthey didn’t have to get going, Toby was all arms and sleepy nuzzles, only rolling out of bed when Jake did.
But before he could say a word, Toby leaned over and kissed him quickly on the forehead, then turned and vanished out the door.
For half a minute, Jake didn’t move at all. That was not how this particular G-rated fantasy usually played out. The kiss was sweet, of course, like always—though Jake couldn’t remember Toby kissing him on theforeheadbefore, and would have generally preferred the cheek if Toby really wasn’t okay going for his lips. But this whole thing with him not saying so much as good morning, not asking about Jake’s ribs, and not sitting down on the bed beside him as Jake ate and gulped his coffee and pills—no, that was really not okay. It felt out-of-joint,off, like a shoulder on the edge of the socket, or a nightmare where he couldn’t put his baby’s engine back together, no matter how hard he fiddled around with the pieces.
What the hell had happened last—
Oh.
The pillow gave it away, a silent accuser. Toby wasn’t cuddling up to him because Toby hadn’t stayed in his arms last night because Jake had gotten so fucked up under the happy pills that he forgot some really fucking important rules.
Everything considered, he was damn lucky to see Toby at all this morning, let alone have him bringing Jake breakfast in bed.
By the time he’d dragged himself and his busted ribs into a sitting position, the coffee was lukewarm, so he drained it in a few swallows while he chowed down on the toast. He wasn’t hungry, not really, not with his gut roiling in the combination of pain meds and guilt, but Toby had made it for him (well, Roger might have, but Toby had delivered it, and Jake really, really hoped Toby didn’t feel obligated to bring him fucking meals) andfuck him if he was going to be ungrateful. As he ate, he weighed his options.
Any apology he made wouldn’t do it justice. He’d fucked up, he’d been high, he’d pushed and he hated himself for itagain(fuck, this felt like a few months ago, just another day of Toby jerking away from him in fear, and he’d thought they were fuckingdonewith that). Nothing he said could repair all the trust and comfort they’d built in the last few weeks. And any apology that would be remotely decent would have to happen while Roger wasn’t in earshot, because Jake might love that man like an uncle, but this was between him and Toby.
But even with Roger’s presence and the lack of words, Jake still had to try to get out some admission of wrong and promises to do better. Toby deserved that much. He deserved way more than Jake could ever give him.
When he finally limped downstairs, he found Toby folded up on one end of the couch, absorbed in his textbooks like he did almost every day since he’d first cracked them open. Or maybe he was purposefully burying himself now in books so he wouldn’t have to interact with Jake.
