Penumbra

by Dan Ackerman

  Arden pulled back. “We don’t have extra sheets. And I didn’t expect…You know, this wasn’t what I planned on doing. I didn’t pack anything!”

  Oggie ran his hands up Arden’s back, drawing him down. “What if I said no?”

  “I’d leave you alone.”

  “What if I didn’t want you to leave me alone when I said no?”

  “I guess we’d have to think of something else for you to say when you really mean no,” Arden said, but the idea of doing anything to someone who’d said no made his stomach turn. He hadn’t ever before, not even the way Oggie meant it.

  “Really?” Oggie asked, not hopeful but surprised.

  Arden swallowed past the lump in his throat. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  They lay there, chest to chest.

  Oggie brushed one hand up and down Arden’s back. “I’ll have to learn not to do that,” he mused, “Or we’ll never get anywhere with each other.”

  “I couldn’t even pretend to hurt you.”

  Oggie pushed his thumb against the vein in Arden’s neck, then slowly wrapped his fingers around Arden’s throat. He tightened his grip slightly.

  Not enough to restrict Arden’s breathing or hurt, but definitely enough to create a sensation of restriction and powerlessness.

  “You like this?” Oggie asked.

  “I do.”

  Oggie’s eyes narrowed. “Honestly.”

  “I’ve never minded a little roughness.”

  The smile reached Oggie’s eyes. “Oh, so you’re kinky.” He gripped a little harder. “Could have said something, sugar. Here I was thinking you meant it when you said you were just desperate and touch-starved.”

  Arden pressed against him. He wanted to kiss him but Oggie didn’t let him get close enough. “I didn’t say that.”

  “I just want you to touch me, those were your words.” Oggie released him.

  “What about straps? Buckles?” Arden reminded. “Don’t pretend it’s just me wanting this.”

  Oggie dug his fingers into Arden’s side. “Count the notches in your spine.”

  A breathy whine escaped Arden.

  Oggie dug his nails in.

  Arden squirmed.

  Oggie let go. Wide-eyed and unsmiling, he looked frightened.

  “It isn’t a bad thing,” Arden offered.

  “It feels bad. Wanting to hurt people? It feels…perverse.”

  “If you like it and I like it, what can be bad about it?” Arden asked. “Anyway. We don’t have to unpack this right now. We can wait until we’re home, until we know each other a little better.”

  “Might be smart.”

  “Not either of our strong suits.”

  Oggie smiled. He kissed him. “No.” He rolled them on to their sides and turned himself to be the little spoon. He wiggled his ass against Arden.

  Arden kissed his shoulder. He kissed the back of his neck, then right behind his ear.

  Oggie molded against him. He drew Arden’s arm around him and kissed his fingertips. He clasped Arden’s hand close to his chest and didn’t let go.

  Arden wanted to stay in this moment forever and it hurt that he couldn’t. He pressed closer to Oggie. “Og?”

  “What, shug?”

  “I like this.”

  “Me too.”

  Arden kissed the crook of his neck. “I want things to stay like this when we go back.”

  Oggie stayed quiet.

  “I know that’s stupid.”

  “It’s not stupid,” Oggie said softly. He kissed Arden’s fingers again. “It’s not stupid at all.”

  A few tears eked out of Arden’s eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hold them back. He managed not to outright cry or even sniffle. He fell asleep holding on to Oggie and woke up the same way.

  Oggie hadn’t moved away in the night.

  “You up?” Arden asked.

  Oggie stirred.

  “Og.”

  “Mmm.”

  Arden gave him a squeeze. “Time to get up.”

  Oggie rolled away and stretched. He groaned, “Do I have to?”

  Arden climbed over him and headed to the bathroom. He’d started his shower by the time Oggie came in to relieve himself.

  When Arden heard him start to leave, he requested, “Come in.”

  “What?”

  Arden pulled back the curtain to the stall. “Come in the shower.”

  “It’ll be awfully cramped.”

  “That’s kind of why I’m asking.”

  “Oh.” Oggie looked somewhere between surprised and flattered. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. “Sure.”

  He stepped into the shower and practically had to stand nose-to-nose with Arden.

  Arden splayed a soapy hand over his stomach, which was somehow soft and firm at the same time, lightly muscled beneath a thin, smooth layer of fat. He thought about moving his hand lower but moved up instead. He took time to marvel at his perfection, and to discover a few things that an artist would have omitted if he’d really been the beautiful painting come to life that he resembled. A mole on his side, a few scars scattered about, an odd-shaped birthmark on his lower back, things that made him lovelier.

  He drew Oggie in for a kiss.

  Oggie leaned into it, but too much, and moved their faces beneath the shower spray so they had to move apart to breathe.

  A few more kisses, and then Arden started to wash him all over. He saved the most intimate parts for last.

  Oggie melted beneath his hands, resting against the wall with his eyes fluttered shut. He let out a small, tender moan when Arden finally slipped a hand between his legs.

  The narrowness of the shower prohibited a lot in the way of movement; Arden couldn’t, for example, drop to his knees comfortably in front of him. He had to practically press him into the wall to have the room to move his arm enough.

  The whole thing felt mildly juvenile in an excitable way, not in an immature one. Of course, Arden had done this a few times in the locker room, hands pressed over each other’s mouths so the other kids wouldn’t hear.

  Oggie giggled afterward, then covered his mouth. “Sorry, sugar, I am, I wasn’t laughing at you,” he hurried to assure.

  Arden pecked him on the mouth. “If we can’t laugh at each other, we probably shouldn’t be having sex.”

  A small, unsure smile flitted across Oggie’s face.

  Arden kissed him once more then cleaned his hands. He stepped out of the shower.

  “Uh.” Oggie half-stepped out after him.

  “No, go ahead, finish up. I washed my hair yesterday.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Arden nodded gamely and grabbed a towel.

  Oggie regarded him warily then retreated into the shower. That wariness lingered as they moved through the rest of their morning, dressing and eating.

  Finally, Oggie accused, “I didn’t get you off.”

  Arden had a mouthful of toast and jam. He made himself keep chewing. When he’d swallowed, he said, “I know.”

  “Didn’t you want me to?”

  “Not really.”

  Oggie practically glared at him.

  Arden gently assured, “Sometimes it’s enough to do something for someone else.”

  “Not with me,” Oggie said, then amended, “I mean, people…People don’t do that for me. It’s the other way around.”

  Arden took another bite of toast and chewed, using the time to think. “Does this represent a problematic change in expectations?”

  “Not problematic, as such.”

  Arden set down his toast and brushed off his fingers. Rehydrated bread had an unseemly texture and toasting helped make it tolerable. He hadn’t added enough water to the jam, either, leaving it slightly too sweet and sticky. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to eat or have this conversation less. “Unwelcome?”

  “I.” Oggie drew his knees up to his chest and put his chin in his knee. He watched for him an uncomfortably long time.
Finally, he sighed. “The lows of addiction do come with some amount of self-reflection. I’m sure you’re aware. I have spent many mornings-after thinking about why I let people treat me the way I do.”

  Arden waited as Oggie paused, gathering himself. He knew those moments.

  “Part of me knows that I don’t deserve nice things. I want them, but I don’t deserve them. When I have them, I always ruin them. You’re turning out to be something nice, Arden. I don’t deserve it, I shouldn’t have it, and I will definitely ruin it.”

  A deep concern and one Arden understood. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No. Kind of. I don’t know. I don’t.”

  “Okay.”

  Oggie sighed.

  “I’m always here to listen.”

  “I know. But…” Oggie stared at the wall. “Somethings are harder to say than they are to listen to.”

  Arden considered that and understood what he meant. He stood up and kissed the top of Oggie’s head. “Love you.”

  “Mhm.”

  Arden didn’t take offense to the lukewarm response. Oggie had a lot of things to work through. He probably would for years. Maybe the rest of his life. Arden found Oggie’s company easy and pleasant, but he knew ugly things lurked somewhere in the future for him.

  Going back to Eden would challenge them both.

  It could make quick work of their relationship.

  He kissed Oggie’s hair again, for good measure.

  Arden had never seen so many books in his life.

  Pages littered the floor, torn and dirt-crusted. Shelves had tumbled on to their sides, spilling tomes over the floor like vomit in front of a toilet.

  Arden didn’t want to take a step deeper into the room for fear of treading on the already-ruined books. It felt perverse.

  Eden had few printed books. A thousand or so in possession of various peer families. Winslow had a good collection. He tended more toward books than his sister. Mother had possessed a sizeable collection. She’d used them as decoration instead of as books. Not that she hadn’t read, but she’d preferred tablets.

  Arden wanted to pick up every page.

  Oggie stared at the room with a sort of wonder.

  Holly walked inside, stepping on the pages. “All the useful books have probably been picked already. But who knows? There aren’t a lot of readers left.”

  Even workers knew how to read.

  Arden took a few careful steps, avoiding as many pages as he could.

  The dirt and dust, along with the heat, made it hard to breathe. He covered his mouth and nose with his scarf.

  Soon enough, though, curiosity overcame reverence. He started inspecting covers. A few things crumbled and cracked at his touch.

  He recognized a lot of titles, common enough entries in the literary canon that digital copies existed on Eden.

  A glance at Oggie showed his eyes had gone red, though if the blame lie with dust or emotion Arden couldn’t guess. He sneezed several times in a row and scowled at Arden when he caught him staring. That tipped the odds in favor of the dust.

  Holly listlessly poked around. Every so often she found a book and would call something to the effect of, “Look at this one.”

  Arden would go over, read her the title, then she would either throw it on the ground or place it in her bag.

  He pushed deeper into the library, climbing over a splintered shelf and ducking under another one wedged in a doorway.

  High up, untouched, he saw a book, decrepit with age but otherwise intact. It leaned against one corner of its shelf with a thick layer of dust. Undisturbed for years.

  He couldn’t reach it even when he stretched on his tiptoes. He put a tentative foot on a lower shelf. It creaked and then, when he put more weight on it, cracked. He stared up at the book. He could make out a smudge of color on the cover.

  He gave a careful hop but still couldn’t reach.

  He wished his mother had designed him to be taller. She’d picked a good height, tall enough to be stately and somewhat imposing, but not enough to intimidate or seem ungainly. Then again, she’d planned for a daughter.

  It left Arden at a perfectly reasonably height but by no means tall.

  He hopped once more, less carefully.

  Pages slipped and slid under his feet when he landed.

  He managed to catch himself before he fell but felt a sharp strain in his leg. Not a snap. He hadn’t pulled anything, but he’d made himself sore.

  He straightened up and rubbed his inner thigh.

  Faintly, Oggie called, “Shug?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Over here.”

  Oggie’s voice came from closer that time. “That doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “This way,” Arden called back.

  He heard Oggie climbing over a few things.

  “There you are,” Oggie said when he set eyes on Arden. He came over to look where Arden stared. Without asking, he came up behind Arden and lifted him.

  Arden squeaked but snagged the book when he could reach it.

  “Got it?” Oggie asked.

  “Mhm.”

  Oggie set him down. “So much for not touching anything.”

  Arden shrugged. “If anything’s going to kill us, it would probably be eating their food.”

  Oggie nodded his agreement. “What’d you find?”

  Arden brushed away the grit to show a generic fiction cover. “A Beautiful Lie.” He cleaned off the back to find it was a thriller about infidelity and maybe also corporate espionage. “You find anything?”

  Oggie coughed into his elbow. “My childhood dust allergy.”

  “Oh. Let’s get some air, then.”

  “Please.”

  They regrouped with Holly and found some shade under a tree.

  They had stayed too long in the library.

  The sun sat directly above them and heat radiated up from the ground wherever they looked.

  “Better not walking back,” Holly advised.

  Arden agreed.

  He longed for the cool, dim interior of the shuttle. He took another sip of water. Tepid. Always tepid.

  He wanted ice.

  He wanted a lemon slush.

  He nudged Oggie. “Did your mom ever take you to Thimble and Thyme?”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s off Goshawk. They had all kinds of desserts and they’d do these frozen lemon slushes…Mama would bring me sometimes after shopping.” He could practically taste it. The little dish and the small, flat spoon. Mama would always get something decadent, but Arden had loved the way the lemons made his mouth pucker.

  She’d always given him a bite of hers if he’d asked anyway.

  “Uh. No. Mam didn’t take me out much.”

  Much, or not at all? Arden wondered. “First thing when we get back, we have to go.”

  Oggie wrinkled his nose.

  “That sounds amazing,” Holly admitted.

  “We can all go,” Arden immediately offered. “Everyone who comes back.”

  Oggie coughed into his arm and cleared his throat. The dust hadn’t done him any good.

  Arden passed him the water.

  His eyes had swollen.

  “We have antihistamines in the shuttle, I think.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I didn’t know you were so allergic to dust.”

  “I thought I grew out of it. It hasn’t happened in years. Then again…” He trailed off.

  “Hmm?”

  “I spent a lot more time in dusty places when I was little.”

  Arden didn’t think he wanted the details. He scooched over closer to Oggie and rested his head on his shoulder. The past had unpleasant things and he wanted to imagine a pleasant future. Delude himself of one, at least until they went back to Eden. “You like sour things; you’d like a lemon slush. You can get whatever you want though. I don’t make the rules.”

  “Yes, you do.”

 
“I’m thinking about changing that,” Arden said. He hadn’t shopped the idea out to anyone, not even Rhys or Cole, yet.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, like…it’s one thing to be in charge, it’s another thing to be a despot.”

  “You’re not a despot,” Oggie assured with a degree of concern.

  “Not right now. There were times in the past that I’ve danced with that occupation, though, and I don’t know that I won’t again in the future. And the Autarchs that came before me? Some of them were, no doubt, and I don’t know who will come after me.”

  “Your kids will come after you,” Oggie reminded.

  “If I have kids. And if I have kids, well, who knows if I’ll be a good father? What if I raise a horrible tyrant?”

  “Depends who you raise ‘em with, I guess.”

  “Depends,” Arden agreed.

  “Is that normal?” Holly asked.

  “Hmm?”

  “People choosing not to have kids,” she clarified. “Down here it’s…it’s not a choice. You do whatever you can to get one.”

  “Not you.”

  “No fucking way, not me,” Holly agreed. “But try telling anyone else that.”

  “It’s a choice on Eden,” Arden said.

  Oggie huffed. “Is it?”

  “We don’t make anyone have kids.”

  “No, but you sure do a lot of convincing,” Oggie pointed out.

  Arden felt like he didn’t have the right to lean against Oggie anymore. “I’m working on things.”

  Oggie sat up and jostled Arden off his shoulder. He sneezed several times. “Sorry, shug. Come back over.”

  Arden returned his head to his shoulder. “I’m changing things.”

  “Sure are,” Oggie agreed. “You don’t want to be Autarch?”

  “I think…I think Eden needs a new kind of leader.”

  Oggie checked his forehead as if checking for a fever.

  Arden pushed his hand away.

  Oggie smiled.

  Holly asked, “So you’re not gonna be king anymore?”

  “I don’t know. That’s a big change and I’ve thrown enough changes at Eden for now,” he said.

  And, not to mention, if he wasn’t Autarch, he didn’t know who he would be or what he would do or how he would cope with anyone having the audacity to tell him what to do.

  “People already don’t trust you, Arden,” she said, “You might not want to tell them you’re king then change that as soon as they follow you to your kingdom.”