Page 54 of Damian & Jun: Episodes 1-4
The kilometer markers on the pavement flicked by. A quarter, a half, three-quarters. His lungs burned, and his face ached where his tears were dried cold on his skin. Somehow, he was laughing. The occasional park goer looked their way, but it didn’t matter.
Let them stare. They’d all wanted to stare at him for years—at his antics, jokes, and pretty songs.
Let them stare now—at this.
This is fucking real, so stare. All of you.
More tears burned cold down his face, laughter morphing into something else. His skin was turning brittle in the wind. A weariness was growing, but he couldn’t stop. Every time his stride faltered, Damian was right there, almost within reach. A glance back, the sound of Damian getting closer, and his heart would stutter, a certain kind of adrenaline would rush into his veins, and he’d find more strength, a deeper well.
He couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. There were no answers, like empty darkness over the water where the city lights couldn’t reach. Outside of this moment of insanity was only risk and danger. As long as he was running, he was still alive.
Suspended.
But alive.
He was going to run forever…
…black spots danced in his vision.
He was running…
Where was the sidewalk? He couldn’t see it.
He was nothing but his churning legs.
He was running. Onward into infinity.
Arms wrapped around him from behind, sweeping him off the ground, spinning him around. A large solid chest pressed against his back. He struck back with his elbows, slamming his head backward.
“Enough, Jun. Enough. I have you.”
Damian’s voice drained the fight from his limbs.
He couldn’t speak. Damian was putting him on his feet, spinning him around, caging him in with his arms, picking him back up like a child, guiding his head down on his shoulders, holding him. They were both breathing so hard their heartbeats were thudding together, breathing in and out as if they were part of the same wave.
“Why?”
“You called me.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“I told you I want your mess.”
“What if you’re lying?”
Damian
Jun’s body pulsed and heaved inside Damian’s arms, a counterpoint harmony to Damian’s own thumping chest. Jun had taken him on such a chase. If he hadn’t spent all those years running with Matthew along the Lake, that long forty-mile run most weekends, he might not have caught his maddening sprite. Jun’s face was flushed, his skin wind-whipped beneath his makeup. His lips were parted, dragging in air, his tongue was pink between his teeth, and his eyes were red from tears. He’d never looked this undone even after lovemaking. And never more beautiful. So fucking raw and blown open, honest in a way that should only be met with the same.
“What if I’m just as much a mess as you?”
Jun shook his head, disbelief bleeding into his eyes. “You couldn’t be.”
“Believe me, I could. These designer suits cover a lot of history, Jun-baby.”
“Prove it, tell me. Because there is no way you’ve fucked up as badly as I have.”
Had they ever been like this with each other in those hotels? This was them, raw and alive. Jun’s heart thudded against Damian’s ribs, furious and alive.
