Guarding January

by Sean Michael

  Jeff started shaking, swallowing hard, over and over. Rye pulled his lover against him, offering Jeff all of his support. Jeff sobbed for long enough that Rye honestly considered giving him a Valium. They had a tiny prescription, for the trip home.

  He kept rubbing Jeff’s back, though, making sure his lover had his strength to lean on. To pull from. Finally, Jeff crashed again, breath hitching.

  The worst thing was that Rye couldn’t do anything to make it better. Like with Jeff’s injuries. He hated feeling useless. He hated not being able to do anything while the man he loved hurt.

  Damn it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JEFF WASN’T going to wake up, wasn’t going to think or eat or anything. He was going to sleep. He was going to sleep until he wasn’t tired.

  “Rye, I’m going to get him in to see a shrink. This is insane.”

  God, Donna. Just go home.

  “A shrink is just going to prescribe him something, and he doesn’t need that. He needs to grieve.”

  “This isn’t reasonable.”

  “What do you want, Donna?” Rye asked her. “How exactly do you suggest he grieve?”

  “Stop it. Go away. Everybody leave me alone.”

  Rye stood. “Maybe it’s time for you to go, Donna.”

  “Go away!” Jeff shrieked. “Leave me the fuck alone!” He was going to scream until he died.

  “You need to leave, Donna. I’ll deal with this.” Rye picked him up.

  “No! No!” He let himself lose it, completely melting down, kicking with one leg, head tossing. Rye let him shout and yell and kick and bang on the solid chest. Sweat poured off him, and he really had to work at it, had to push hard for the energy to fight.

  Finally, Jeff was utterly exhausted and couldn’t fight another second, and Rye sat. Somehow they were on his bed, Rye cradling him. His throat hurt, his head hurt, and he couldn’t breathe.

  “It’s going to be okay, baby, I promise.”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t. Jim had been the strongest guy he knew, the best. How could he do this?

  “It is. I know you don’t believe me, but it is. Anything you need, we’ll get it for you.” Rye began to rock him.

  He let his eyes close, let himself be cradled, held.

  “I’ve got you,” Rye promised him.

  “I told you to leave.” He held on, though.

  “No, you told Donna to leave.”

  “Okay.” He could live with that. His throat was killing him.

  “You want some ice cream, baby?”

  Jeff nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again.

  “That’s a yes.” Rye picked him up again and headed back downstairs.

  He hid his face in the curve of Rye’s throat, not so much as an ounce concerned about whether Rye had him.

  They went into the kitchen, and Rye set him down onto a stool before gathering the things he needed. A bowl, a spoon, the ice cream out of the freezer.

  Jeff’s eyes felt gritty, swollen, so sore.

  “Let’s have this upstairs. Watch a movie.”

  “Okay.” He looked at Rye, and it was so hard to breathe. “I’m sorry.”

  Rye shook his head. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to be sad. And to scream, to push it all out.” Handing him the big bowl of ice cream, Rye then picked him up again.

  “Do the casts make me heavy?”

  “It’s going to take a bit more than two little casts to make you heavy, baby. You’re back to all skin and bones, like when I first met you.”

  “Am I? I’m so tired.”

  “You are. It started on the tour.”

  Rye got them upstairs, setting him and his ice cream down on the bed. He nodded, waited for Rye to come to him, touch him. And Rye did, climbing into the bed and taking the bowl of ice cream from him.

  Taking a huge amount on the spoon, Rye surprised him by taking that first bite himself. Jeff leaned hard, letting Rye support him, ease all the aches.

  Rye’s arm slid around him, and a kiss landed on the top of his head. The next spoonful Rye took was about half the size of that first one, and Rye brought it to Jeff’s lips.

  He took it and swallowed. Oh, it hurt and felt so good, all at once. He’d barely finished swallowing when Rye had another bite at his mouth. He loved how Rye loved to eat. His giant.

  “Does it feel good on your throat?” Rye asked, teasing another bite in between his lips.

  “Yes. Cold and creamy. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Rye continued to share the ice cream between them, the cold such a contrast to Rye’s warmth along his side.

  With the ice cream in him, Jeff felt more present, more real. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  “Thank God we’re home,” murmured Rye. “I hated the smell of that place.”

  “The hospital?”

  “Yeah.” Rye hugged him close for a moment.

  “I don’t know what to do, Rye.”

  “About what?”

  He chuckled softly, shook his head. “Everything.”

  “Oh, baby.” Rye tilted his head and took a kiss, long and soft and easy. “You don’t have to do anything about anything right now. You just keep breathing.”

  “That’s it?”

  “For now, yeah. You breathe. You eat the food I give you. Tomorrow we’ll add something else.”

  “Tell me you don’t hate me.”

  “I could never hate you. I love you.”

  “Okay.” He had to believe; he didn’t have a choice. He was too tired to argue.

  “It’s true.” Rye kissed him again, then slipped another mouthful of ice cream in.

  Jeff swallowed, the motion easier.

  “What kind of movie do you feel like today?”

  “Nothing scary.”

  “No. How about a comedy?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, that works.”

  “Cool.” Rye leaned over and grabbed Jeff’s laptop, using it to set the movie up on the huge TV on the wall. Then the empty bowl was set aside, his body lined up against Rye’s.

  Jeff closed his eyes and breathed. In. Out. In. Out.

  “I don’t want a shrink in here, Rye.”

  “Then we don’t call a shrink, baby.”

  “Okay.”

  “You gotta keep trying, though. One day at a time, but something every day.”

  “Trying?”

  “To stay alive, to be one of the living.”

  He sighed. “I’m just tired.”

  “I know. But eating and starting to exercise again will help with that. I’ve got special plastic covers for your casts now, so we can go swimming.”

  “I don’t know. I’m just wanting to sleep.”

  “We’re watching a movie. No sleeping. There will be a quiz when it’s over.”

  Jeff snorted, but it made him smile.

  “I mean it.” Rye was smiling too, though.

  “Hush. Sleeping.”

  “Nope. Not ’til after the quiz after the movie.”

  Jeff shook his head. Nonsense. He wasn’t having a quiz.

  “Yeah. Lucky for you, though, you’ve got an in with the proctor.”

  He didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t want to be happy.

  “Hey. You think Jim would have wanted you to stop living because he died?”

  “I didn’t think Jim would fuck up.”

  “He was only human, baby.”

  Jeff nodded. And Jim was better than him, stronger.

  “You know you don’t have to fuck up just because Jim did.”

  He would, though. It was inevitable.

  “Come on, enjoy the movie.”

  “Yeah.” He rested against Rye’s chest. He was going to fuck this up, and he didn’t even know what this was.

  Rye kissed the top of his head, fingers sliding along Jeff’s arm.

  What was he going to do?

  “ARE YOU ready to go, baby? The car is here.”

&n
bsp; Jeff shook his head, like the man had a choice. The casts needed to come off.

  “No? You’re showered, you’re dressed—”

  “Can’t you take them off?”

  “I’m a lot of things, baby, but a medical professional, I’m not. The car is right outside, let’s go.”

  Jeff sighed, but they managed. Donna had gone home finally, and now they needed the next step to normal.

  They’d managed a little bit of swimming, but without the casts, it would be so much easier. Also therapeutic, but Rye would be focusing on how much Jeff liked it. He needed his lover to wake up.

  Rye led Jeff out to the car, and they settled in the back. He’d gotten used to sitting in the back with Jeff instead of doing the driving himself like he had coming back from that first outing. That felt like so long ago.

  The photogs out front were starting to fade away, finally.

  Jeff was quiet for the entire drive to the doctor and kept his head down as Rye escorted him up the elevator and into the waiting room.

  They were shown into an exam room right away, the nurse promising them it wouldn’t be long.

  Rye paced around the little room, just getting a feel for it, before he sat. “You looking forward to getting them off?”

  “I guess? They’re heavy and hot.”

  “We’ll be able to really start swimming once they’re off. And you’ll be able to get back into playing guitar.”

  “Yeah.” Jeff was so still, like he was afraid to move, to think. He probably was. Rye would be happier with tears, with yelling. With proof of life. This stillness was, quite frankly, a little eerie.

  The visit to the doctor was surprisingly uneventful, even if the one super-hairy emaciated leg was wickedly gross and, oh my God, stinky.

  They had the number of a physical therapist to call and instructions to come back and check in again in three months, and that was that.

  The doctor left, hurrying to his next patient, and Rye looked at Jeff. “Well… you ready to go home and take a real shower?”

  “Uh-huh. I stink.” Jeff stood up, steadying himself with his cane.

  “It feel better, though?” Rye figured it had to.

  “My hand feels just fine. My leg feels light.”

  “We’ll get you working in the pool, see what other exercises the PT suggests.”

  “More doctors. I think I’ll do okay on my own.” His Jeff could be so stubborn.

  “Physical therapists are not doctors. We can probably bring them to the house, meet them in the pool room, so they don’t even need to see the rest of the house.” They headed to the elevator, keeping it slow for Jeff.

  Jeff got into the car, and Rye opened the sunroof. It was a beautiful day, and God knew that Jeff needed some vitamin D in the worst way.

  “You want me to tell the driver to stop anywhere on the way home?”

  “No. I’m tired.”

  “We could grab sundaes from the Dairy Queen on the way home. Strawberry sauce on ’em—”

  “You’re trying to fatten me up.” That wasn’t a no.

  “Yep. Can’t have you for dinner if you’re all skin and bones.”

  Rye leaned forward and tapped Bobby’s shoulder. “Take us through the Dairy Queen drive-thru on Waterloo, please.” The press wasn’t hounding them nearly as much now that the tour had been cancelled.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jeff yawned and curled into the seat, eyelids heavy. The lean face was turned up toward the sun, though, basking it in. There was no reason for Jeff not to get a tan now. No reason at all for Jeff to hold on to any of the trappings of Lord January. Rye ran his hand over the buzz cut, touching gently.

  “I kind of like it, you know? It’s coming in silver where the scars are.”

  He hadn’t thought that Jeff had even noticed, to be honest. “It’s unique, isn’t it?”

  “It’s different.” Jeff shrugged. “I like how it feels too.”

  “Good. That’s good. I do too.”

  They pulled up into the drive-thru, and he told Bobby what they wanted, told the man to get something for himself as well, and passed over a twenty.

  “Do you think I should put my piercings back in?”

  “Do you want to put them back in?” He’d liked the piercings. They were something that had been for Jeff himself. Something real.

  “Yeah. I miss them.” Okay. Okay, two things that Jeff had an opinion about today. That was maybe a record.

  “Then let’s put them back in. I liked them too. I liked the way they felt when I touched you.”

  “Yeah?” That was a tentative look, a smile.

  “Oh yeah. Even thinking about touching them—touching you like that again—gets me revved up a little.” He’d been avoiding thinking like that while Jeff was recovering. The casts were off now, though.

  “Perv.”

  Oh. Oh, was that a tease? Grinning, Rye’s smile was wider and more natural than he could remember feeling in a long time. “Maybe.”

  The sundaes came back, and Jeff took a bite. That was all he took, but it was a bite.

  Rye ate about a quarter of his own before he started cajoling Jeff to eat some more.

  “I’m eating it.”

  “You’re staring at it.”

  Jeff frowned. “Hush.”

  “You can hush me all you want, baby. You know it’s not going to work.” Was that a smile? He thought it was. “You looking forward to getting into the pool?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I am. It was yucky with the bags and the casts.”

  “I know. It’ll be fun again now. As will showers.” Anything to do with water had involved a lot of work. Now they could be spontaneous. “Now,” Rye added, “eat your ice cream.”

  “I had a bite.”

  “It’s ice cream—you’re supposed to devour it.”

  “Uh-huh.” He ate another bite.

  “Ice cream with strawberry sauce. Strawberry. I happen to know that’s your favorite.” He offered Jeff a spoonful of his own with caramel sauce.

  Jeff wrinkled his nose, shook his head. “I don’t like that.”

  “Then eat yours, baby.”

  Jeff managed a few more bites before they got home, and then he slid out of the car, juggling cane and ice cream.

  Rye took the ice cream. “Careful. Last thing we want is to have to turn around and go to the hospital.”

  “Don’t say that. I couldn’t bear it.”

  He pulled Jeff to him and hugged him. “It’s okay. You’re fine.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m never going to be fine again.” The words were low, surprising him.

  “What are you talking about?” He put his arm around Jeff’s shoulders, leading him carefully in.

  “Nothing.”

  Right. Jeff really needed to wake himself up. “You need a shower. You can tell me what’s going on in your head there.” Rye went straight for the stairs and the bedroom.

  Jeff took the stairs slowly, but on his own power.

  “You made it all the way up on your own, that’s pretty impressive.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, the muscles are weak.”

  “We’ll build them back up again. The swimming is going to be amazing for that.” He turned on the shower and started stripping.

  Jeff stripped down too and then slipped into the water and started soaping up. Rye didn’t take over the cleaning; it was a good sign that Jeff was taking the initiative. Jeff soaped himself up, leaning against the tile. Once Jeff was clean, Rye tugged him close, holding on.

  “Hey.” Jeff leaned right in, resting against him, loving on him.

  “Hey.” He tilted Jeff’s head, kissing him.

  His lover kissed him back. It wasn’t erotic, just sweet. Steady.

  Leaning their foreheads together when they were done, he looked into Jeff’s eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nonsense.” Jeff hadn’t thought of nothing in all the time Rye had known him. “Talk to me, Jeff.
”

  “I’m just—”

  “If you say tired, I’m going to holler.” He raised a brow, waiting for Jeff to finish his sentence some way other than “tired.”

  “Sleepy?”

  Butthead. “I’m going to spank you.”

  “You are not. Be nice.”

  “Some people think spankings are very nice.”

  “No one thinks they’re nice. People think they’re hot or kinky or whatever. Not nice.”

  “Some people are so kinky a spanking is nice.”

  Jeff chuckled, shook his head. “Come on, I want to sit down.”

  “Will you talk to me if we do?”

  “Talk to you about what?”

  Rye rolled his eyes. “About what? About what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking that you always think I’m thinking!”

  “You’re deflecting now.” He dried Jeff off, enjoying the simple, familiar act.

  “Am not.”

  “Yes, you are. I’m serious, baby. I want to know what’s going on in your head.”

  “Nothing. Nothing is going on. I’m scared and tired and worried, and I don’t know what to do next.” Oh yeah, nothing was going on.

  “I believe that you’re scared and tired, but that’s not nothing at all. That’s something we can talk about.”

  “Okay. Okay, fine, but I need to sit down.”

  “You want to go downstairs and sit in the sun?” He led Jeff out of the bathroom.

  “No. I’ll sit in the bed.”

  “So you can go to sleep?”

  “Eventually, yeah.”

  “We’re talking first.” Rye stacked the pillows against the headboard so they had somewhere comfy to sit.

  Jeff wrapped up in the blankets, holding on to the edge.

  Tugging Jeff into his arms, Rye held him close. “So at the risk of sounding like a broken record… talk to me.”

  “What do you want to talk about? I’m tired, I’m always tired.”

  “There’s got to be more going on in that head of yours than ‘I’m tired.’”

  “Does there? I don’t think so. It’s all I can think about. I feel empty.”

  “Then maybe we need to fill you up.”

  “I don’t think we can. I mean. I don’t want to feel anything, not right now.”

  “Too bad.” Jeff had been wallowing for long enough.