“I know. But sometimes I get frightened.” And Xander does look scared, his eyes huge and black and his mouth a tense line. “I’ve never had anyone—I mean, a boyfriend—really accept me for who I am before, and want what I want long term. I’ve never been what they needed, and when I couldn’t change into what they wanted, they left. There’s a pattern there, a very clear pattern; we’re talking chess board, black and white. After the whole trial thing, when I pushed so far…I was sure that eventually it would be the same with you, the pattern would continue. And then seeing the play, I thought our time was up.”
“So you decided on a pre-emptive dumping, along with cruel and contemptuous dismissal of my professional work.”
Xander looks at Ben, who is simply raising his eyebrows. “You’re right. It was selfish. And it was cruel. God, I hated myself so much after that night, Ben, really. I could barely look at myself in the mirror.”
“And how do you think I felt?”
Xander slides down a little in the bed and wraps his arms around his face. Ben can see that he’s trembling slightly. “Bad. Worse than me. But Elijah told me he saw you, and he wouldn’t tell me how you were doing, so I thought…I thought maybe you were okay. I decided I should just stay away from you for a while, if you were okay with everything. If you were doing better without me. And the way Elijah looked at me, like he was so disappointed in me, I figured you’d told him what I said that night after the play.”
Ben is actually surprised that Elijah kept his word and didn’t spill his guts about what a hot mess Ben was at the time. “I gave Elijah his binding head-slap thing. So he wouldn’t tell you anything about me.”
Xander gives a short huff of laughter. “That is genuinely the only thing guaranteed to keep his mouth shut.”
Ben smiles a little, but then sees Xander looking at him. “I wasn’t doing well,” he tells him. “I wasn’t doing well at all. But I’m better now. Or I thought I was, before last night.”
They both start speaking over each other.
“Last night—”
“I shouldn’t have—”
Ben sighs. “Please, let me go first. Last night was not good. I need you to know how sorry I am about it. I was completely out of line. We’re so messed up right now. It’s not healthy.”
“I know I’m messed up, but that’s why I’m going to therapy, so—”
“Xander.” Ben says it gently, and takes his hand. “Not you. We are messed up. That stuff I made you do last night was manipulative at best and God, I don’t want to admit it, but abusive at worst, and this just—it’s not working right now, what we do together. It hasn’t worked for a while.”
“I don’t think it was abusive.” Xander frowns.
“It’s nice that you think I’m so perfect. But trust me. That stuff was totally over the line. I fucked up majorly.”
“As majorly as I did?” Xander actually sounds hopeful.
Ben squeezes his hand. “I don’t think comparing the level of fuck-ups is going to help. What matters now is whether we can wipe that stuff off the slate, start again.”
“It’s already forgotten,” Xander says, and Ben knows it’s the truth.
“But it shouldn’t be forgotten. That’s the problem. I knew you didn’t want to and yet I made you.”
Xander draws his eyebrows down, thinking. “I could have—I mean—I didn’t have to—”
“I made you think that if you didn’t…I crossed a line. It was wrong.”
“I wanted you. And I compromised my principles by agreeing to do it when I’d been drinking.”
“But you stopped.”
“Yes. Because you stopped me. I could never keep going once you safe-word.”
“But apparently I can,” Ben says quietly. “Apparently I’m happy to trample all over your limits and your boundaries whenever I feel like it. I did it last night, and it’s happened before, with the knife. When I cut you.”
Xander is still for a moment, and then he lifts his head. “Yeah. That was wrong.”
“I’m sorry. For that and for last night.”
“I forgive you.”
“Could you…at least take some time to think about it?”
“Alright, baby,” Xander says, flashing his teeth in a grin. “I’ll pretend it’s a struggle for me to forgive you, if it makes you feel better.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ben makes them both some coffee, giving him time to organize his thoughts. When he returns with two enormous mugs, it’s almost like everything is the same as it once was. He uses Xander’s favorite cup out of habit, the biggest one Ben owns.
They sip; Ben thinks. “I’m still a little shocked that you came around here last night expecting that I would play with you. While you were drunk? And after everything that’s happened?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ben sees Xander shift uncomfortably. “I guess it seemed like the thing to say at the time.”
“Honesty Policy.” The words drop from Ben’s mouth unthinkingly, and he locks eyes with Xander, both of them surprised.
“Honesty Policy,” Xander repeats. “Okay. Original plan, I was going to fall to my knees and beg you to give me another chance, or something like that. But when I saw you, my pride got in the way, maybe. Or I thought you might respond because you like it when…you like being bossed around.”
Ben gives him a withering look, and doesn’t say anything.
“It was dumb. Really dumb,” Xander admits.
“It was more than dumb.”
“I know. I’m a fucking idiot.”
“Mm.” Ben sips at his coffee. “I don’t want to belabor the point, but did you really mean it, what you said about my play?”
“No, baby.” Xander’s eyes get a little shiny, and he shakes his head. “I talked about it with my therapist and he said…he said maybe I was trying to push you away because I didn’t know how to express my fears properly. That I was projecting things on to you.”
Ben can’t say anything, because it’s all jumbled up, so he takes a second to breathe, relax his fingers around the coffee cup. Then he says, “So you’re telling me your fear translated into, ‘Hey, your stuff is just genre shit and it’ll never be taken seriously.’”
Xander cringes. “I should never have said that. I didn’t mean it. I was just…I was just trying to hurt you.”
It still hurts, so Ben changes the subject. “What’s the deal with your therapist?”
“He’s good.” Xander’s eyes are wide and admiring. “He doesn’t let me get away with shit. He makes me hold myself accountable and really understand why I do things.”
“Great.”
“You know, back when I first started going, even when we were still together, he said I probably wouldn’t be able to hold a relationship together.”
I hate this guy already, Ben thinks immediately. “Is this dude a Jungian?”
“Naturally.”
“Fuck’s sake, Xander. You know, mental health has come a long way since Jung. And you told me you were reading that other guy, the one with the Eastern philosophies or whatever.”
Xander tilts an eyebrow. “Welwood. His name is Welwood. You’re opposed to Jung now?”
“Jung is a—” Ben stops, reminds himself that Carl Gustav Jung has not done anything to him, not personally. “I just think…I don’t know if that stuff is good for you.”
“‘That stuff?’”
“You know what I mean.”
“Jung is not heroin. Or even cheeseburgers. I read other people too, and I take it on board if it works, but Jung—his approach makes sense to me.”
“Sure, but making me terrified makes sense to you.” Ben bites his lip. “That—I didn’t mean…”
Xander looks like he’s not quite sure what to think, but then he grins. “Well, sure. But Jung has a lot to say about that kind of thing, when you actually apply his theories and—”
“Alright, alright. Yay, Jung. Keep going.”
“If it makes yo
u feel better, most of the time I talk about other things with my therapist. No Jung involved. But my therapist—”
“Can we give your therapist a name, please? I’m sure he has one.”
“Paul.”
“Thank you.”
“So Paul—”
“Is he gay?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Okay.”
“So—”
“Bi?”
“Um. I really haven’t asked. That’s not the kind of relationship we have.”
“Sorry. Keep going.”
“Hey, are you…?” Xander smiles a little, scrunching his nose, and then shakes his head. “Never mind. Anyway, Paul basically told me that I was fucked in the head.”
“Just like that?”
“Well, it was more professionally worded. He said that I was holding things together with you by a thread and that I shouldn’t be surprised if it broke.”
“Cheery guy.”
“Well, he was right, wasn’t he?”
“Self-fulfilling prophecy.”
Xander says softly, “Do you really think so?”
Ben shifts in the bed, feeling annoyed.
“I mean, you just said yourself, before—we broke up for more reasons than that one night,” Xander points out.
“I just don’t think therapists should say that kind of shit. It’s not their place. ’Specially not some Jungian.” He mutters the last sentence, but Xander hears him, and sighs.
“You really do have some grudge against Jung, don’t you?”
“Hell yes, I do. That stupid quote you read, the way you fixated on it—”
“Well, I’m still working on that—”
“Total bullshit. Just because—”
“Baby, do you want to hear about this or not? Okay, so. Paul and I have talked about that quote and I haven’t figured it out completely yet, but I’m more comfortable about some stuff.”
“Comfortable?” Ben raises his eyebrows. “And how exactly did Paul make that happen?”
“Benjamin. Paul is a Dominant and a sadist. He likes to order other people around and, occasionally, hurt them. I went to him because he understands my point of view.”
Ben opens his mouth to say that he totally doesn’t care and that’s totally not what he was asking, but—it totally was. “Oh.” Okay. I hate him a little less. “Is he good looking?”
“He’s not my type.”
“Well, alright then.” We love Paul.
“A few sessions in, I told Paul what you said, about how relationships aren’t supposed to make you feel complete. And damn him, he agreed with you.”
“I’ll try to avoid saying ‘I told you so’. But I did.”
“So we’re still working out what I can do to be really complete in myself. And that quote was one of the first things we talked about.”
“But you haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Not yet. But I’m close.” Xander stares at the wall in concentration, then shakes it off. “After we broke up, I told Paul I had to get better as soon as possible, so I could go back and make you love me again.”
“That’s…”
“Dumb. I know. Paul said the same.”
“Sometimes, Xander…” Ben laughs, and Xander looks embarrassed. “Hey, I’m not laughing at you. Well, I guess I am; but only because you’re adorable. Don’t look annoyed, you are.”
“Not so adorable sometimes.” That shuts Ben up. “After I said that to Paul,” Xander continues, “he said that he wouldn’t work with me at all unless I was doing it for myself. He said it wasn’t a good reason, to just do it for you. And we had a big argument.”
“Wow.”
“I know. I flounced out of the office and everything. I felt like such a tool, afterwards. I went back and apologized and threw myself on his mercy. He said I needed some intensive work, and I agreed. And things are getting better. Slowly.”
“Good,” Ben says. He feels a little out of his depth. “What do you talk about? Your childhood?”
“Sometimes. Past relationships. How I see things.”
Ben wants to ask something, so badly, but it’s so personal, and he doesn’t want to upset Xander, not again.
“You’d better spit it out,” Xander advises. “You look like you’re going to explode.”
“Were you abused? As a kid?”
Xander is taken aback. “No. Why would you—oh. No, I’m not like this because of any childhood trauma.”
“But your dad died…”
“I was already like this before he died.”
“You remember that far back?”
“I remember being like this from a very early age. I remember…it wasn’t always connected with sex, either.” He looks troubled. “But I was always afraid of becoming a monster.”
You’re not, Ben wants to say, but they’re just words. So he puts down his coffee cup and takes Xander’s, places it on the nightstand as well. And he pulls Xander into a kiss, soft and innocent, and keeps kissing him until Xander’s mouth relaxes under his own and he kisses back. After a few seconds of that, Ben pulls back and puts his forehead up against Xander’s, their noses squishing together, and smiles. “You are not a monster. And I love you.”
“I can’t be with you.”
“Wow. Okay. Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.” Xander is getting teary, so Ben stops the sarcasm. “Hey, it’s fine, it’s okay. If you don’t want to—”
“Of course I want to. But you were right, we broke up for so many reasons and I need to work through so much stuff and—and I can’t possibly expect you to wait around until I’m functioning enough to be able to give you what you deserve in a relationship, and everything is so messed up. I messed it up.”
“You had help.” Xander scrubs at his face, and Ben feels his heart cracking. “Come here.” He pulls Xander insistently into a hug, although he has to admit he’s relieved when Xander doesn’t actually cry. Xander presses hard into Ben’s chest, his heart beating fast. Ben can feel it under his hand on Xander’s back. He strokes Xander’s hair like he’s petting a cat and wonders how Counselor Katy might handle this situation. “Look,” he says, hit with inspiration. “I made a promise to someone that I wouldn’t date for three months anyway. I can restart that clock, because I screwed up last night. For three months at least, I can guarantee you, I’m off the market.”
“Three months?” Xander sounds stuffy.
“Three months.”
“That won’t be enough time. I need years of therapy.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”
“I guess.”
“Stop sulking.”
“‘M’not.”
“See how far you get in three months, and then maybe we can talk.” In the meantime, Ben thinks, he’s going to go get some therapy of his own. He’ll ask the Doctor to recommend someone.
Maybe even a Jungian.
Yeah. Let’s not get carried away.
Xander is talking, his voice quiet and tired. “Everything got so out of control, even when I thought I was in control. I felt like everything was flying around in a whirlwind and we were at the center of it, just trying to hold on to each other. And then I let go.”
“‘Turning and turning in the widening gyre the falcon cannot hear the falconer; things fall apart; the center cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.’”
After a minute, Xander says, “You’re not even in subspace.”
“Benefit of being an English major. I can quote poetry whenever I like.”
“‘And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?’”
“And…so can you, apparently. You know it?” Ben tries not to sound shocked. There’s no reason Xander wouldn’t know it. But well enough to quote?
“Yeats. ‘The Second Coming.’ I read a lot of poetry after we broke up. He made me feel better. I don’t know why. Him and Whitman. Transformation and stripping
away layers of the self. Do you think our center can hold?”
Ben thinks about it. “Perhaps we can find a new center. Eventually. We can try to have a second coming of our own.” He pauses. “Maybe not one where the Antichrist is born, but…you know.”
“I know. But, hey—that’s only one interpretation of the poem.” Xander sounds amused, and Ben feels his own heart lifting.
Sudden certainty strikes him. “I think I know why you like Yeats. His Spiritus Mundi, the Spirit of the World, is like Jung’s collective unconscious. Similar sorts of ideas.”
Xander thinks it over, and Ben continues stroking his hair. When he speaks, he sounds almost drowsy. “Jung’s idea of a collective unconscious gives me hope. Hope that I’m not so isolated from the rest of humanity. That my mind is not so strange and unbelievable. That my dreams are not so horrifying. That they’re shared, at least by some people. That the burden is shared.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I think we’d better fuck,” Ben says, matter-of-factly.
“I beg your pardon?” All the sleepiness is gone from Xander’s voice.
“I’m not going to be getting any for three months, maybe longer, and—God. This is embarrassing. And I want to show you that I love you and that I can forgive and forget.”
Xander sits up, bites his lip. He’s tempted, Ben can see, but he’s not sure if it’s a good idea.
“It’s probably not a good idea,” Ben admits. “But since when is anything we do a good idea? I want you. You want me. We can’t be together right now, but at least we can say an epic goodbye. I need something to remember you by.”
“I don’t know if I’m up for anything…intense.”
“Jesus, Xander, you think I am?” He grins. “I just want something fun. Remember when it used to be fun?”
“Maybe. In the vast recesses of my memory.”
“I just want you, inside me. I want to hear you come. I mean, I want to see you come, but…”
“You could watch. This time.” Xander sounds—shy, Ben realizes, and it makes his cock twitch.
“I’d like that.” His mouth is dry. He wants this, suddenly, more than anything. Something to keep him warm for months. “What would you like to do? How would you like to remember me?”
Break the Rules (Rough Love Book 7) Page 17
