by Riley Rivers
“I know how to slow down,” Cameron protested.
Ezra’s expression was very wry. “And when was the last time you treated yourself to anything? Even some downtime.”
“I bought this coat,” Cameron said, plucking sadly at the mangled left arm. He racked his brain for something else. He had a point to prove. “And even if working for you was a lot, when I was doing school and the warehouse, I really enjoyed it. Every time I got to be in the studio or follow you around on a job was…” he licked his lips, trying not to go too far. “It was really special.”
“Oh,” Ezra said. Clearly not expecting this admission.
“So I… I don’t want you to think I can’t work. Or that I can’t pull my weight. I can. I will. Please, I…” Cameron shifted, rubbing at his left shoulder. “This has been the best thing to ever happen to me.”
Ezra’s next exhale was a quiet little thing. “Well,” he said after a moment. “Let’s keep it being a positive experience then, okay? Your health and safety and well-being are important to me. If nothing else, you won’t be as good as your job if you’re exhausted and in pain. Right?”
Cameron heaved a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
“Try to think of it as a mini-vacation,” Ezra suggested lightly. “You’re certainly due for one. Even if I think getting attacked by a wolf was a bit excessive in order to warrant time off.”
“A mini vacation,” Cameron repeated.
“Sure. Think of stuff you’d like to eat, or movies you’ve wanted to watch. A personal project you’ve never had time to look into. Reading you’ve always meant to catch up on.”
“You really don’t have to do anything special,” Cameron said, alarmed. “I can eat whatever. And I can cover some of the—”
“Excuse me,” Ezra interrupted, crossing his arms. “But you are my guest and I am being hospitable. It certainly won’t kill me to eat one meal over another, or to let you watch a movie in my living room.”
Ezra was talking as though Cameron was going to be here longer than just overnight.
Cameron tried not to focus on that. “Right, well. Thank you. Again.”
“No trouble,” Ezra said. “And I mean that. It really isn’t.”
Cameron nodded, caught-out.
“Now then,” Ezra said. “Is there something you’d like to do? Or you could rest. And you can take your pain meds again soon.”
Cameron took a breath. In for a penny… “Actually, could you, um… could you maybe help me wrap my arm in plastic? So I could wash up.”
Ezra smiled at him, and he seemed so pleased by the request that Cameron had to admit to himself that asking was the right thing to do. He didn’t want to be a bother, but Ezra genuinely appeared to want to do this for him
It was another thing he should probably try not to focus too much on.
Chapter Eleven
Sunday was perhaps the most bizarre, prolonged experience Cameron had ever had. He woke up warm and comfortable in a fucking bed, and even with how much his arm ached, it was still the best he’d felt in a while getting up. The bathroom was right there—he didn’t have to drive or walk anyplace to get to one. And there was complete privacy in both rooms. His backpack was sitting right out in the open, and Cameron wasn’t experiencing constant low-grade anxiety about letting it out of his sight.
He’d had no idea what to expect when he ventured out of the guestroom. Cameron had had some stupid, pointless fantasies in the last month about what it might be like if Ezra wanted something else out of him besides a photography assistant. How Ezra might take care of him, if Cameron gave him a little extra.
But he never could have dreamed up the very real image of Ezra standing in his beautiful kitchen wearing a well-worn green sweater and jeans and manning a waffle maker. Ezra had smiled when shuffled into the kitchen, asked how he was feeling, and then had brought out a variety of toppings for the waffles.
Cameron supposed that Ezra could have just been in the mood for Sunday morning waffles. But then again, it was also genuinely possible that Ezra had remembered that Cameron liked waffles and had decided to make them based on that, too.
Breakfast had been delicious. Talking with Ezra, once Cameron stopped feeling too weird and out of place, had been as nice and easy as it always was.
The day kept on, from there. Ezra showed Cameron how to work his TV and gave him free rein of the living room. He brought down some books that he thought Cameron might be interested in reading, if he wanted to. On Cameron’s tentative request, Ezra had smiled and shown Cameron the binders Ezra kept showcasing some of his work, and had spent over an hour sitting next to Cameron on the couch, telling him stories about the pictures and articles.
Ezra insisted Cameron pick what he wanted for lunch and asked if Cameron would be interested in watching a documentary together that Ezra thought Cameron would like. He also gave Cameron plenty of unasked-for space right at each of the moments when Cameron started feeling twitchy about how much he must be inconveniencing his host.
But Cameron also couldn’t help enjoying it. He hadn’t been inside a house for so long, and certainly not one filled with so much comfort and good experiences. He basked in Ezra’s attention and was able to retreat to the guest room when things got overwhelming. He reveled in the simple pleasure of getting to spread out on a comfortable couch to read something on his phone, instead of sitting in his car or hunched up in a library.
Before Cameron knew it, they were finishing dinner. Ezra had made pasta with some veggie sides and served Cameron such a full plate that Cameron didn’t have to grapple with himself over asking for seconds. Though Ezra offered anyway.
“It’s been nice having the company,” Ezra said, as he put away the leftovers. Cameron had been allowed to carry his own dirty plate to the sink, and then rise everything off. He was currently trying to sneakily load the dishwasher. “Even if my company keeps insisting on doing chores.”
“I can load one-handed!”
Ezra rolled his eyes, lips quirked. “Fine, fine. Take it easy though.”
Cameron muttered something about not being incapacitated, making Ezra laugh and Cameron grin, pleased with himself for it.
He caught Ezra watching him out of the corner of his eye as Cameron turned to grab another plate. It made Cameron’s heart beat a little harder, because Ezra kept… making these fond expressions, his face so soft that Cameron couldn't quite let himself believe it was because of him. He couldn’t let himself get used to any of this, no matter how desperately he wanted even a part of today to somehow become more normal. It had been a fairy-tale day. A fantasy day.
The thing about nice dreams was that you woke up from them and then had to face reality.
“I meant it, though.”
Cameron shut the dishwasher and blinked up at Ezra, who was leaning against the counter. “Meant what?”
“That it’s been nice having the company.” Ezra shrugged. “I like to keep busy and be out and about, spend time with friends… but it’s a big house for one person. I have a lot of space. So it’s been nice, today, having you in it.”
“Oh,” Cameron breathed.
“Mmm.” Ezra glanced out the window at the snow that was still coming down. “And I’ll tell you, I’m glad that tomorrow isn’t a travel day. I blocked it out for editing and I can’t say I’m mad about not having to drive.”
It was now or never. Cameron steeled himself and asked, “About that… what about me?”
Ezra raised an eyebrow. “Well, you’re coming to work, aren’t you? Unless you need another rest day.”
“Oh,” Cameron said quickly. “No, no—I’m good to go! I can work.”
“I sort of thought you’d say that.”
“Yeah, no, of course I can work.” Cameron fumbled. “I meant about me and…”
Ezra tilted his head. “Do you think I want you to leave?”
“I…” No. I actually… I actually don’t. But I don’t want to be a burden.
“
I’d prefer it if you stayed,” Ezra said, looking back out the window. “I don’t want to pressure you. But I’d prefer it. At least until your arm is more healed.”
“What counts as more healed?” Cameron asked.
Ezra seemed to think about it. “I would gather that until you’re cleared to pick up heavy things, you’re probably not yet better.”
Cameron blanched. That was two weeks at minimum. Ezra wanted him around for at least two weeks?
“I don’t want to pressure you,” Ezra said again. “Maybe… maybe you can sleep on it? And tell me what you’ve decided to do tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Cameron said distantly, still reeling.
Ezra smiled at him then, and Cameron couldn’t have argued even if he’d wanted to.
***
Cameron was used to needing to be at the studio by eight, so, as usual, he was up at six. It didn’t occur to him until after he was rolling out of bed—bed! That was still a novelty—and going to brush his teeth that he remembered he had a much, much shorter commute.
After he brushed his teeth, he went back to bed.
It was so blissfully nice to snuggle down underneath the warm comforter too. Even with how much his left arm was prickling and itching, he still couldn’t imagine things getting much better than this.
He set his alarm for seven and happily settled down to doze, but unfortunately his brain had other ideas. He dreamed of snaps and growls and biting teeth, which morphed into glares and frowns and furious disappointment.
No one has ever wanted you. No one ever wants you. You’re going to kick and struggle and try as hard as you can and still be left in a heap in the dirt as everyone walks by.
When Cameron’s alarm went off a second time, his nose and throat were clogged, eyelashes sticky and wet, and it was with a much heavier heart that he painfully pulled on his clothes and dragged himself out of the guestroom.
He stopped then, in the doorway, stuck on what to do. Did he just go straight to the studio? Was Ezra expecting him for breakfast in the kitchen? Cameron didn’t know what his place was here, as a guest and not-quite-burden, but also as someone who was there to do a job.
That was the thing. He was there to do a job. Ezra had hired him on to work, not intending to get stuck with an injured—and homeless—intern. Ezra was simply too good to turn Cameron out into the street. If Cameron wanted to do the right thing, he’d leave tonight and get himself out of Ezra’s hair.
He found himself starting to scratch at the bandages over his left arm and scowled, forcing his hand away. Scratching hurt, no matter how much it was itching, and anyway he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to scratch at the stitches. He vaguely remembered being told that.
Speaking of, his first vaccination was on Wednesday morning, meaning he’d be late coming into work. He’d have to tell Ezra. But then again, Ezra had been present when Cameron had made the appointment. He’d have to remind Ezra?
Cameron frowned and scratched at his arm. Stupid wolf, having to go and complicate everything.
He decided that he should go to the studio. He’d be a bit early, but at least he knew where he stood in the studio, for the most part. Okay, so maybe he couldn’t do any heavy lifting, but he could at least clean the lenses. That didn’t require any real hard work.
Decision made, Cameron took a left at the staircase.
Which led him into the dining room, and then into the kitchen, instead of around to the hallway with the studio door.
He frowned, glancing behind him. He thought for sure he was supposed to take a left at the staircase. Or… no, that wasn’t it, was it? He shook his head. Stupid. He’d had his run of the whole place yesterday and now he was getting turned around?
“Good morning.” Ezra smiled as he also came into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”
Cameron winced and squeezed his eyes shut when Ezra flipped on the bright kitchen light. “Yeah,” he managed, squinching his eyes as he opened them slowly. The light hurt. “Pretty well. It’s nice, having a bed.”
Ezra’s gaze sidled away. “I’m glad I’m able to provide you with one.”
“It’s nice,” Cameron said again. Were the lights in the kitchen always this bright? “I was going to the studio.”
“Now?” The tone was obviously confused. “It’s only seven.”
“But I’m up,” Cameron said, unsure. “And I’m here.”
“You can do whatever you want before or after work,” Ezra said, frowning. “Even if you’re staying here.”
Cameron shrugged. “I like working for you.”
Ezra’s lips parted, but he shook his head, only then saying, “well. Breakfast first?”
“That’s okay,” Cameron said feebly. He wasn’t really hungry. Which was unusual in itself, because he was always hungry. But he didn’t feel like eating.
Maybe it was because he had had a good night’s sleep? He didn’t have a lot of experience with those.
“Whatever you want to do,” Ezra said, still frowning slightly. “But the studio’s off limits ’til eight. I’ve decided.”
It startled a laugh out of Cameron. “You decided?”
“Yes,” Ezra replied, though he sounded a little amused now. “My studio, my rules.”
“Okay, boss.”
“Right.” Ezra turned away to open the fridge. “Boss. So go do something to relax until it’s time to clock in. You did just get ravaged by a wolf.”
“That was days ago.”
Ezra spun back around. “Two days ago! It was two days, Cameron.”
Cameron shrugged and scratched at his arm.
“Does your arm hurt?” Ezra asked, back to frowning.
“It’s okay.”
Ezra raised an eyebrow.
“I mean it hurts a little, yeah, but it’s not bad. I’ve had worse.”
“Worse than a wolf attack,” Ezra said, expression unreadable.
Cameron ducked his head and mumbled some vague approximation of I’m just going back to the guest room. It was as good a place as any to hide and stop making a fool of himself.
***
“How’s it going?”
Cameron looked up from the computer, where he was filing away yet another scanned document. Ezra had him up in the office loft, going through and organizing backlogs, and he hadn’t been kidding or indulging him—he really did have a ridiculous amount of paperwork that had stacked up over the years. And now it was Cameron’s job to file it all neatly in digital.
It was a mixture of busy work and puzzle-piecing, and Cameron was just happy that Ezra actually did still have jobs for him to do. He wouldn’t have had any other options for work, not being able to lift stuff. Besides, Ezra’s paychecks were more than generous, on top of Cameron getting great, practical experience. If Ezra wanted to keep him, Cameron could only be grateful.
“It’s going pretty well, I think. I’ve gotten into a groove, you know? The time-consuming part is really the labeling.”
“Labeling?”
“Yeah, like making sure each contract and consent form and everything is all named so they are easily searchable. I want you to be able to type in McDonald’s Shamrock Shake Shoot March 2018 and get everything you need right then. So it’s just a lot of typing.”
“I thought you were making folders.”
“Oh, I mean yeah, I’m doing that too. But sometimes you just want to type something into the search and have it pop up instead of clicking into a million sub-folders.”
Ezra smiled. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”
Cameron beamed.
“But why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Oh, uh…” Cameron had a little desk lamp on, but hadn’t been working under the overhead light. “It was just a little bright. Especially with the skylight?”
“Oh. Alright. However you’re comfortable.” Ezra squeezed his shoulder. “But I wanted to get you to break for lunch.”
The thought of food kind of made him feel sick. “I’m not re
ally hungry and I’m kind of in a groove, so I’ll just keep at it. Thank you, though.”
Ezra appeared more than a little concerned by this. Which Cameron could understand. He hadn’t turned down food basically ever, before. But he just wasn’t interested in eating right now.
“You didn’t eat breakfast,” Ezra said after a moment.
Cameron shrugged.
“Alright, well… it’s still a break time, then,” Ezra said after more silence. “I can’t just keep you working straight through the entire day. Pretty sure that’s against labor laws.”
Cameron knew that Ezra was trying to make a joke, but mostly he was just irritated over having to stop working. Downstairs was way brighter than being tucked up in the loft doing paperwork, and his arm itched, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with Ezra being stupidly perfect and handsome and kind when Cameron would never in a million years be able to pay him back. He could work through one fucking lunch and not like… add to his impossibly long tab. “I said I’m fine.” It wasn’t quite a snarl. “I can work. I want to work.”
“Okay,” Ezra said. His voice was quiet, and that riled Cameron up more. He wasn’t some stupid wild animal Ezra needed to be afraid of spooking. “Okay, that’s fine. Take a break whenever you want to, then. You’re still only two days out of the hospital.”
“I didn’t forget,” Cameron gritted out, scratching at his arm. Stupid bandages itched so fucking much. And he couldn’t do anything about it or change them for another five days? Fuck.
When Ezra simply nodded and left without another word, Cameron knew he hadn’t mistaken the disappointment in Ezra’s eyes, and that made Cameron feel worse. He knew he was messing things up. He fucking knew it. He’d been a fuck-up his whole life, from foster family to group home and he wasn’t able to hold on to even this one good thing without ruining it somehow.
He wasn’t worth looking at twice, certainly not by someone as incredible as Ezra. He was just some… some fucking charity case that Ezra had gone too deep into and now couldn’t pull himself out.
Cameron would do it for him, then.
