The Colors Between Us

by Kate Hawthorne

  Roland rolled onto his other side and watched Donny turn the water on in the shower and run his hand under the spray until he found the right temperature. Donny leaned back so he could see the bed out of the doorway.

  “Come on in, Roland. The water’s fine.”

  He disappeared behind the glass shower door, and Roland observed the lines of Donny’s body as he rinsed himself under the spray. This whole morning was new territory for Roland, and the thought of standing in the shower with Donny was both exciting and terrifying. He wasn’t sure he could do it.

  Roland sat up and kept his eye on the shower door as the steam from the heat obscured Donny’s legs, then his hips and chest. When Donny’s body was nothing more than a blur behind the fog, Roland gathered the courage to go into the bathroom. As he placed one foot onto the tile floor, the door swung open, and a rush of steam filled the room. Donny stepped out and reached for a towel, drying himself quickly before wrapping it around his waist.

  He ran a hand through his wet hair and smiled up at Roland. “You missed the fun.” He walked past Roland toward the bedroom. Roland stepped into the shower himself now, alone, and quickly washed. He conditioned his hair and rinsed it clean, then turned the water off and stepped out to towel dry.

  After getting dressed, he found Donny in the kitchen, drinking a glass of milk.

  “So, what’s on the agenda, boss?” Roland quipped.

  Donny glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “First, we get you some food for this house, and then we go fill your prescription, and then breakfast.”

  Roland glared at Donny across the kitchen.

  “We go fill your prescription,” Donny repeated, “and then go get litter and some better bowls for Pete, and we can go by my place and grab him. Assuming you still want to Pete-sit.” Donny looked at Roland across the room, his eyes full of trepidation he was trying to mask behind un-deserved trust.

  “You’d really let me watch him again? After what happened?”

  Donny finished his milk and rinsed the glass, dried it, then returned it to the cabinet. “Everyone makes mistakes, Roland.”

  He looked up and watched Donny bend over to lace his shoes. Roland couldn’t make sense of the kindness Donny was offering him. He hadn’t done anything to deserve a second chance. He closed his eyes and wondered how many chances he would get before Donny grew weary of what life with him was like. Four chances? Seven? Twenty? Roland’s life hadn’t ever been easy, and it wasn’t going to magically start being easy just because Donny put food in his fridge.

  Speaking of things in his fridge, Roland needed more vodka.

  “So, are you home tomorrow? Because I work all day, and Pete could use some company.” Donny stood up straight and checked his pockets.

  Roland wondered if he could buy vodka when he was with Donny or if he would have to go out later.

  “I’m home.”

  Donny smiled and gestured over his shoulder toward the door, “Great. Ready to go then?”

  “Why are you doing this?” Roland asked bluntly.

  “Doing what?”

  Interfering. Meddling. Caring.

  “Helping me.”

  Donny looked like he was seriously thinking about the question, and he chewed his lip between his teeth while he formulated a reply.

  “Would you accept that I like fucking you?” Donny’s voice was softer than normal, more contemplative.

  Roland snorted derisively. “Try again.”

  Donny shrugged. “Maybe it’s a selfish motivation. Maybe I want to see more of your paintings. Maybe I want to learn how to be a better artist by watching you.”

  “You’d learn to be a better artist by not watching me.” Roland slid his phone and his wallet into his pockets and stood up.

  “Debatable,” Donny countered, as Roland walked toward him. Donny reached up and grazed his thumb across Roland’s cheekbone, and Roland instinctively closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Donny pressed up onto his toes and brushed his mouth across Roland’s. He dropped back down and ran his hand slowly down Roland’s body from his face to his shoulder, down his bicep and forearm, squeezing Roland’s hand before letting go.

  Roland’s fingers reached out and then curled back into his palm before he fisted his hands and forced them down to his sides.

  “I meant what I said, Roland. I want to see more of the Roland in my sketchbook, and I want you to see more of him too. So, let’s go eat.” Donny turned and walked out the door without looking back, and Roland followed closely behind.

  Chapter 13

  Don't Fucking Mention It

  Donny glanced over at Roland as he slid into the passenger seat and clicked the seatbelt into place.

  “Is Target okay? We can get everything we need there,” Donny proposed, pulling out of the guest parking spot and driving toward the street.

  “I guess.”

  Donny contorted his face like he smelled something bad. “Are you being sullen because of the groceries or the medication?”

  “I don’t need someone to buy me food,” Roland complained.

  “I’m not buying you food. I’m just making sure that you buy yourself food.”

  “Semantics.”

  “Hardly. Stop being so petulant. You’re a grown man, as you’ve already reminded me.” Donny cast a sidelong glance toward his passenger. “How old are you anyway?”

  “I’m thirty-one. How old are you? Please tell me I haven’t been fucking a child.” Roland scratched his scalp and dropped his head against the back of the seat.

  “I’m nearly twenty-two.”

  Roland groaned, “Jesus. When is your birthday?”

  Donny laughed. “Are we comparing star signs now? It’s in a little less than two months. I’ll be twenty-two in two months. Do you care? Are you gonna get me flowers?”

  “Highly unlikely.” Roland rolled his head to the side to face Donny.

  “I assumed as such.” He raised his eyebrows and put the car in park. “Here we are. First stop, pharmacy.”

  “You are far too excited about medicating me.” Roland got out of the car and stretched his legs. Donny watched as Roland’s shirt lifted and exposed a sliver of his torso. His jeans were paint stained and hung low, so low Donny could follow Roland’s happy trail down to… wait.

  “Are you not wearing underwear?”

  Roland dropped his arms and pulled his shirt up slightly to look down at the waistband of his pants. He tugged his jeans up slightly and then shook his head.

  Fuck, of course he wasn’t.

  “And for the record, I’m not excited about medicating you.”

  Donny brushed through the open doors and picked up a hand basket. Roland trailed him, getting close to whisper angrily down at him, “Then why are you?”

  Donny took a quick left and navigated to the pharmacy.

  “I’m not medicating you. I just drove you here. You went to the doctor, you showed me the prescription, you got in the car with me to come here, and now it’s your turn.” He pointed toward the pharmacist who was gesturing for him to step forward. Roland glared at Donny and then exhaled dramatically before approaching the counter.

  Donny rolled his eyes at the back of Roland’s head and made his way down the aisle with the condoms, tossing a box inside his basket. He was running his finger over the fronts of the lube bottles when Roland walked up behind him and squeezed his waist. He jumped and spun around, slamming into Roland’s chest.

  “You scared the shit out of me. What was that?” Donny steadied himself with a hand on Roland’s chest.

  “What was what?”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever touched me first.” Donny chuckled a bit, then bit his lip and quieted. The reality of his comment was heavier on his shoulders than he would have liked.

  “I just saw you over here with the lube, and it got my mind working.”

  “You’re a giant slut, aren’t you, Roland? Just a giant cock slut, dying to be let out of your little self-imposed prison,
aren’t you?” Donny had started off joking, but Roland closed his eyes and let out a breath when he called him a cock slut, and he was pretty sure Roland was really into it. “Oh, you are. I saw the way your body trembled just now.” Donny reached down discreetly and palmed Roland’s cock through his pants. It moved under his touch, hardening and lengthening with every pass of his hand. “Roland, do you like when my cock is in your ass?”

  Roland’s cock jumped and Donny let out a low laugh.

  “You’re an ass,” Roland muttered, stepping backward.

  Donny reached his fingers forward for one last touch before Roland shoved his hand down his pants and re-adjusted himself. Donny smiled and licked his lips, securing his hand back around the handle of the basket he carried.

  “Let’s get you some food,” Donny said, spinning on his heel and walking off toward the refrigerated section.

  Roland caught up to him in front of the lunch meat. Donny had his hands around a package of honey roasted turkey, his favorite. But he dropped it back onto the hook. They weren’t shopping for him. Today was for Roland.

  “What’s your favorite kind of sandwich?” Donny asked.

  “Roast beef and cheddar.”

  “Good choice.” Donny held the basket toward Roland, who dumped a package of roast beef and one of cheddar cheese on top of the condoms Donny had collected earlier. Donny was dropping the cart back to his side when Roland’s hand shot out and grabbed the honey roasted turkey, quickly dropping it into the basket.

  It was a simple thing, but it felt like Donny had been punched in the chest. But a good punch, like a tentatively happy punch. He swallowed and looked at the turkey, then up at Roland. He just blinked at Donny, with a leisurely look that Donny couldn’t read, then walked down the aisle.

  Donny shook his head and followed behind, holding the basket out when Roland found something he wanted to get. So far, Donny had learned what sort of lunch meat Roland liked, what chips he preferred (sour cream and onion), if he liked pickles (he did—dill), and also that Roland had a huge sweet tooth. The basket was nearly overflowing with bags of chocolate and cookies by the time they were done. Donny was struggling to carry it, and Roland leaned down and easily snatched it away from him.

  “Thanks,” Donny offered, smiling and shaking the tension from his wrist.

  “Thank you,” Roland whispered, so low Donny barely heard it. He opened his mouth to reply, but Roland was off toward the pet section before Donny could formulate his thoughts.

  He jogged to catch up and took his place beside Roland, facing the cat toys.

  “What do you think Pete would like?” Roland asked, his face far more serious than Donny thought necessary for the task at hand.

  “Pete likes any kind of attention. His brother and sister don’t like to play with him,” Donny lamented the fact that Jack and Jill were inseparable. Watching the trio of siblings interact was perplexing, since the two of them always acted like Pete didn’t even exist. Donny imagined when he was at work that Jack and Jill played and cuddled and caused trouble all day, while Pete sat alone and debated the merits of eating off his bandage.

  Roland picked up a long plastic stick that had glittery fish attached to the end of it and swirled it around in the air.

  “Is this too girly for him?”

  Donny laughed, “He’s a cat.”

  “He’s a he.” Roland countered.

  “I think he’d like it fine. He took the fish toy from Roland and shoved it on top of the basket. “And here’s the litter.” Donny grabbed a bag from the shelf.

  “Food,” Roland helpfully reminded.

  “Yes!” Donny exclaimed, tossing a couple cans of wet cat food into the basket. “I have a ton of dry food for them at home. I’ll bring some over for you.”

  “That’s it then. Ready to go?” Roland asked, looking at everything they’d accumulated.

  “Almost. Let’s go.” Donny headed off back to the pharmacy. He wasn’t sure if Roland was intentionally trying to get out of the store without picking up his medication, but Donny wasn’t going to let it slide.

  When they reached the pharmacy, Donny dropped the litter down and smiled, holding his hand out for the basket. Roland’s eyes shuttered briefly before he handed it over and walked over to the pick-up section of the counter.

  “Name and date of birth?” Donny heard the technician ask.

  “Roland Wilson. February ninth.”

  Donny stepped back. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He didn’t want to know what sort of medication Roland’s doctor was prescribing him. It wasn’t his business. He hadn’t looked when Roland threw the prescription at him, and he wasn’t going to listen in now. If Roland ever came to a point where he thought it was important to have that conversation with Donny, he would, Donny knew that. Roland was a locked vault, but sometimes it seemed like he wanted to scream out the combination at the top of his lungs so someone, anyone, would crack through and open him up.

  Roland returned, tucking the pharmacy envelope in his back pocket. Donny heard the pills rattle.

  “All set?” he asked.

  “I forgot one thing, I’ll be right back. Just wait here.” Roland jogged off, and Donny guarded the food. He was back quicker than Donny expected, clutching a bottle of vodka in his hand.

  Donny eyed it, then looked up, sucking his lip between his teeth.

  Don’t. Fucking. Mention. It.

  Roland’s face looked like part of him wanted Donny to say something so he could engage, and the other part of him looked like he wished Donny would just act like he hadn’t seen anything at all. Donny didn’t know the right answer, and he settled on an indecisive grunt before he looked down at their items on the floor and picked up the heavy basket, then turned to go.

  “I can do it,” Roland said, gesturing for the basket.

  “I know you can,” Donny replied, perhaps a little more aggressively than he’d meant to, and his eyes shot down toward the bottle before he continued walking toward the registers.

  After picking up Pete from Donny’s and grabbing a pizza, Donny and Roland were sitting at Roland’s coffee table eating. Pete was causing havoc somewhere, Donny could hear the unmistakable slide of his bandaged paw as it bounced off the floor.

  “When did you start painting?” he asked Roland.

  Roland looked contemplative as he chewed and swallowed.

  “I can’t remember a time before I painted.”

  “But now?” He shifted and turned toward Roland, laying a hand on his thigh.

  “It’s just doesn’t come as easily as it used to,” Roland mumbled, reaching for his glass and taking a drink. It was vodka. Donny knew it; he’d watched Roland pour it but he opted to not comment on it.

  “Why?”

  Roland snorted, “Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?”

  “Do you think it’s because…” Donny trailed off, but gestured to the glass of vodka.

  Roland snorted again, more incredulous. “I’ve been drinking for years. The artist block— it comes and goes, I guess.”

  “No correlation?” Donny asked, taking a bite of pizza. He didn’t know Roland well, but Donny had ideas that whatever was going on with Roland was tied to the drinking, and both of those things were obviously causing the issues with his art. But just like with the prescription, it wasn’t his place to pry.

  Roland slumped down and dropped his head back against the couch and sighed. “Maybe.”

  “Alright,” Donny replied, stroking his fingers across Roland’s thigh.

  “What about you?” Roland rolled his head to face Donny.

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise at the question. “What about me?”

  “When did you start drawing?” Roland flattened his palm over the top of Donny’s hand, slowly grazing it back and forth across the top of his knuckles.

  Donny closed his eyes and enjoyed the touch. He’d been drawing for years. He started sketching the arches of Athena’s high heels when they were both
teenagers. There was something about the elegance and grace of the lines that had spoken to him. He’d gone from sketching her shoes to sketching her legs, then realized he shouldn’t be drawing his sister, so he started people watching at the park and drawing everyone he could. Donny had always been drawn to the shapes of people. Their angles and curves, the way they bent and moved and stretched. It was a challenge to capture the emotion of a moment in time, but he tried.

  That was what he’d done after the first night with Roland. He’d caught a glimpse of a powerful and graceful creature— chained by a body that confined him and a brain that restricted him. Donny had seen a hint in Roland’s eyes and his movements of someone greater than he was allowing himself to be. It was burned on the backs of Donny’s eyelids, and that’s what he drew. That was what he showed Roland. That was who he challenged Roland to be.

  “I was fifteen, I think.”

  “What keeps you drawing?” Roland lowered his palm onto Donny’s hand and gently flexed his fingers to twine their hands together.

  Donny turned his palm up and squeezed. He looked Roland square in the eye and truthfully replied, “I want everyone to see what I see.

  Chapter 14

  Pete's Fine So It's Different

  Donny woke up and stretched, untangling himself from Roland’s long limbs. He padded to the bathroom and showered, dressing in his clothes from last night before he tiptoed past a still sleeping Roland into the kitchen. He popped a pod into the Keurig and waited for it to brew.

  Pete was curled up on the couch, face tucked between his legs, sleeping soundly. Donny picked up his mug of coffee and sat down beside him, stroking his fur. Pete mewled, stretched, then fell back to sleep. The vet had told him the bandage should be able to come off, but Donny hadn’t told Roland that. Pete didn’t need a babysitter anymore, but Roland seemed eager to try and make amends for the last nightmare.