Page 110 of In This Iron Ground
He didn’t want to be alone anymore.
**********
Damien turned his head on the couch as he heard the front door of Hakan’s apartment open. Mia had left minutes before, stating that Hakan wasn’t keen on seeing her right then. Damien had frowned at the statement.
“I believe he’s angry at me, although not as much as he is at himself,” she’d explained.
“He shouldn’t be.”
“Not at himself, no. I don’t begrudge his anger at me, however.” She’d given Damien a kiss on the forehead and a promise to call before slipping away.
Hakan walked slowly into the living room. Damien watched him over the back of the couch. He felt he’d run clean out of emotions. There was an odd, fragile peace inside.
“Hey,” Hakan said quietly.
“Hey.” There was a moment of silence.
“Can I…” Hakan indicated the couch. Damien nodded.
Damien felt the couch dip as he watched Hakan. They looked at each other. Hakan reached out and Damien tensed. He felt hypersensitive, his skin rubbed raw by the events of the last few days. Hakan let his hand drop.
“Do you…want to stay the night?” Hakan asked.
Damien sighed, looking at his knees. It was hard to think enough to make a decision. His head was so cluttered that he couldn’t move around in it.
Damien heard Hakan let out a slow, trembling breath. He looked up only to be shocked still at the sheen in Hakan’s eyes.
“What…Hakan, what’s wrong?” Damien asked, turning his body towards him.
Hakan made a choked noise, covering his face with his hands. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Damien. I don’t know what to do, I’m so, I’m so—”
“Hey. Hey, Hakan, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
“No. No, it isn’t. I keep thinking. Every day? Every day you…you didn’t know. I assumed and you…went around and ran with us and gave mom…went on errands for her and…and me, spent time…spent…I. When I left home it was. I’d never felt…that way before I’d never, and you. All the time, that’s what you were…fuck. Fuck.” Hakan gripped his hair, pulling at it.
Damien placed his hands over Hakan’s, stroking them until Hakan let go.
“Hey, hey. Shh,” Damien soothed, and pulled Hakan close.
Hakan fell forwards with ease, wrapping his arms around him. Damien could feel Hakan’s watery pants against his neck.
“Let’s go to bed, yeah? I think we’ve both had enough of this day,” Damien said.
Hakan squeezed him tightly. Damien held him back.
**********
Damien woke up slowly. He felt the warmth of the bed he was in. Of Hakan’s slowly breathing body close behind him. He could hear a truck rumbling outside. A dog barking.
He opened his eyes. They’d left the blinds open and the watercolour dawn dripped into the room. The soft, golden light was so delicate it seemed like it could be pierced right through to reveal another dimension. The world looked strange and fragile and new.
Damien remembered the flower Cameron had shown him the first night he had stayed at the Salgados. He tried looking at the scene through a different lens. Tried to wipe it from the assumptions he had made all along.
What had Cameron really tried to tell him that night?
Maybe blame was a strong word, but Damien felt he had to take at least part of the responsibility for what had happened. For the fear that Mia described, and the behaviours it had fostered.
Damien thought about pack. What it meant, in spirit if not in law. About how the Salgados had given him a home, had included him in every celebration and family tradition, had invited him to every run and ritual. How they had shown him in those little fragments of moments, with looks and tones and small words. How they had told him, with every method available to them, that they loved him. That he was part of what they were. That he was welcome.
