by Luna, David
Sebastian shook his head, this time avoiding his gaze. Curious. “I can’t take ibuprofen. Don’t react well to it, so I need to stick with acetaminophen. If you don’t have any, I’ll be okay without. You don’t need to worry about it.”
Christ, didn’t the boy know he’d go get some, if it came to that, rather than allow him to be in pain? “No, I have some. You’ll be safe to take some in about an hour, I think. I’ll dig them out and we’ll keep you on a good schedule so you can get ahead of the pain.”
Sebastian nodded and Gideon helped him into the bath. Just like with the kitten supplies, he’d purchased things for Sebastian so that he didn’t have to pack much, if anything, when he came over. He gathered some pajamas so Sebastian would be comfortable and took them into the bathroom, leaving them on the counter and grabbing Sebastian’s clothes from earlier to toss in the hamper.
Walking out of his closet, Gideon realized the pill bottle Sebastian had tucked in his pocket had fallen out of his pants and landed by the bed. He picked it up and examined the translucent orange bottle, sitting down on the edge of the bed when he realized the sticker had been taken off. Knowing he’d seen the label on the bottle when he’d watched it being shoved in Sebastian’s pocket, his shoulders tensed, and he grew frustrated when he realized he didn’t have the right to ask.
He’d made sure of that with the contract stipulations. Not to mention he’d specifically asked if Sebastian had any serious medical issues that would impact or be affected by their play and the boy had said no. Remembering that moment he had to admit to himself that Sebastian had paused before answering and thought about it, but when he’d said no, he’d been speaking the truth, so he’d let it go. But faced with this goddamned pill bottle that had been stripped clean, he had to wonder.
Unable to stop himself, he opened the bottle and looked at the pills. There were six and he was itching to spill them out onto his palm, check to see if there were any identifiers. He even went so far as to wonder if he could take a picture and ask Finn to figure it out for him, but the disgust he felt for himself, even if he was doing it because he was worried about the boy, was too much.
He put the cap back on the bottle and placed it on the nightstand on Sebastian’s side of the bed. He wouldn’t mention it no matter how much he wanted to order Sebastian to give him an explanation. But he knew Sebastian wouldn’t mention it either and that just summed up their relationship right there, didn’t it? And he had no one to blame but himself.
Fuck.
Knowing he still had a while, he went to the kitchen, heated some soup, and made a few paninis. He knew Sebastian was hurting and he wanted to keep an eye on him, ensure he was all right for the next couple days. Maybe they’d binge-watch some awful TV or watch some bad movies. He’d do his best to ensure Sebastian got a lot of rest and was feeling much better by Monday, when he had to return to work.
He knew it probably wasn’t smart. Taking care of him in this way was not part of their contract and in the end would only begin to—or, maybe more accurately, continue to—blur those goddamned lines that were quickly becoming the bane of his existence. But as much as he could distance himself mentally and emotionally from most everyone else in the world besides his family, he was beginning to realize that doing so with Sebastian was becoming downright impossible.
Later, he’d helped Sebastian out of the tub, they’d eaten lunch, and he led Sebastian to the couch so they could talk about the night before. He could see the reticence in his boy’s expression, but he asked that Sebastian give him a chance to explain. The sad look in Sebastian’s eyes prompting his apology. “I’m sorry, boy. I normally wouldn’t have done it, but I didn’t want to let down the other submissive and would have struggled to find a replacement last minute.”
Sebastian shrugged. “It wasn’t sexual and this wasn’t stipulated in the contract. I don’t really have the right to be upset, Sir.”
“But you do. And you are. And rightfully so. We’ll amend the contract to spell that out. I don’t want to be scening with anyone else, and I for damned sure don’t want you scening with anyone else.”
Just the thought of Sebastian scening with another Dom had his blood boiling. And the reality was that it had felt wrong when he’d done it. He’d pulled the contract up on his computer, added the addendum, and brought it out for them to sign. Afterwards, he’d clasped Sebastian’s hand, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Bastian. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Going forward if someone needs a last-minute standin and we don’t have someone available, I’ll reschedule it.”
Sebastian nodded and he leaned in and kissed the boy’s soft lips. Sebastian sighed into his kiss and went limp, his features softening, his body relaxing, much more at ease with that settled and out of the way. Sebastian’s eyes were drooping and he apologized for being so tired. Gideon gently eased him up from the couch and led him towards the bedroom to rest.
When they’d gotten there, he’d seen Sebastian’s whole body tense up when he saw the medication on the table. He didn’t move for several moments and Gideon ignored the voice in his head prompting him to question, to push, to dig for those details he so wanted to know.
He pulled back the duvet and urged Sebastian to rest. The relieved look on the boy’s face, the fact that Sebastian avoided eye contact completely, barely acknowledging his presence after seeing his pills, told Gideon he’d been right. Sebastian wasn’t going to share any details and as much as he didn’t want to, Gideon admitted it was probably for the best. He watched as Sebastian lay down and stared blankly into space. He couldn’t help but think that the headway they’d just made regarding exclusivity had just been mowed down by that goddamned, tiny, pill bottle.
He couldn’t miss the desolation that was in Sebastian’s eyes, the hopelessness in their depths before he closed them and turned away from Gideon. It was like a punch to the gut and he stood there and watched Sebastian pretend to sleep, finally walking away when he realized his presence would just stress the boy out more and probably keep him awake. As Gideon went back into the kitchen to clean up after their lunch, he couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling that he was losing something that was never supposed to be his in the first place.
IT HAD BEEN A LONG month. Christmas was right around the corner and Sebastian was exhausted. His neurologist was doing his level best to find an anticonvulsant that worked. In the last four weeks, he’d tried two new medications with mixed results.
Dilantin was the first one that seemed to help him a bit, with minimal side effects, but it wasn’t enough so they’d added a second to the mix, and the Keppra had sunken him into a depression so deep he’d called in sick from work for a solid week prompting not only his doctor, but also his captain to worry. It was the first time he’d called in sick for more than one day in a week for the entirety of his employment.
He’d thought about trying to take some short-term medical leave, but he’d been put on another drug when his doctor had seen what the Keppra had done to him. In addition to the depression, he’d been dizzy and weak, had fevers, nausea, and had lost seven pounds in just nine days. He’d easily been able to convince Gideon he’d had the flu without saying a word when the fevers and nausea had hit on a Tuesday evening, one of their weeknights. Gideon had asked him to stay so that he could take care of him, but he’d begged off under the guise of not wanting to make him sick.
He’d been put on Trileptal, which had the same list of possible side effects but the crippling depression slowly lifted and the worst side effect he’d had was nausea, a hives breakout that had gone away after the first week, and continued weight loss. The seizures had slowed, but not stopped. So far, so good. He hoped that it would work, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t. There was talk of surgery and he wanted to avoid that at all costs, for obvious reasons. He asked the doctor to give him more time before that prognosis was made, thus the new medication.
The muscle weakness that he’d been lucky to mostly avoid prior to then had begun to make an appearance.
Stairs were a bit harder to climb, the tattoo gun was harder to grip. He was never more thankful that he’d trained himself to be ambidextrous. He could still tattoo with that hand but he wasn’t able to last very long and his once dominant left hand had been swapped for his right.
He counted himself lucky that he’d had no new issues with his eyesight. At his neurologist’s request, he’d been to see an ophthalmologist that specialized in glaucoma. There was no change with his sight and he was thankful for small favors. He knew the probability that he’d eventually lose his eyesight in one eye because of the ocular disease was high, but there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
The only bright spots in the last month were his tattooing days and his sessions with his Dom. He’d had to cancel multiple meet-ups with Gideon and was thankful that he was understanding. He’d expressed concern numerous times regarding Sebastian’s weight loss and lower energy levels. Sebastian could tell he was doing his best not to pry and push for more information. All Sebastian had given him was that he was having tests done to see what was going on and that he’d let Gideon know if he needed anything or more time to deal with it.
He did his best to keep their scheduled sessions because it was mostly what was keeping him going. After his fall down the stairs a month ago, their relationship had changed. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. When he’d seen the pill bottle on Gideon’s nightstand he’d nearly gotten sick, thinking Gideon would start asking questions and when he didn’t, Sebastian was confused by his feelings of both relief and disappointment.
He was angry that the pills weren’t doing their job, but that was then followed by more rational thoughts that he’d always known this would most likely happen and that he’d prepared himself for it, both mentally and physically, for years. He knew the anger stemmed from the fact that for the first time, things in his personal life were going well. He’d finally found a gorgeous, equally kinky, but nurturing Dom whom he cared very deeply for, but he knew, deep down that theirs was never a love match. At least not on his Dom’s side.
He was pretty sure love was exactly what he was feeling and felt cheated that the meds, and everything they stood for, were a huge part of the reason Gideon would never want to permanently tie himself to a sub like him, let alone love a man like him. All that fell on Sebastian. He’d never blame Gideon for his own shortcomings. But those shortcomings were so immense, he felt a sort of quiet despair, his self-blame akin to a self-flagellation.
Though they were still having intense scenes, he’d eventually realized that Gideon had reduced some of the rougher play they’d participated in previously. He didn’t know what to feel about that. He supposed he felt both frustrated at Gideon’s high handedness, and taken care of at the same time. He couldn’t very well fault his Dom for making the decisions regarding their play, but he also didn’t want to be considered weak and unable to handle their scenes.
He was still wearing the cock cage on a regular basis, but Gideon had given him a key in case he needed to remove it for a doctor’s appointment. That too had filled him with mixed emotions, the biggest of which was feeling as if he wasn’t keeping up his end of the bargain. But as much as he wanted to throw his hands in the air and ask what the point of wearing one was in the first place, he felt grateful for that key multiple times over the last several weeks when he’d needed to remove it for various medical reasons, not the least of which was an MRI.
He’d explained everything to his boss and the captain was being enormously supportive regarding his schedule. If he had long doctor’s appointments, he could delay sketch appointments until later in the day and sometimes evenings. He was given free rein regarding his schedule and was told that if a solid work week was too much, they could work on the paperwork for short-term disability.
Knowing disability leave was inevitable for him, the more it looked like the meds were no longer going to be enough, he wanted to delay it if possible so he didn’t use too much of it. As he never used much vacation, he had enough accrued that he was able to use that for medical appointments and, if he was honest, rest time when he had pushed himself to his limits. But with the schedule changes in his job, the medical appointments, the continued tattoo appointments he maintained, and doing his best to keep his scheduled sessions with his Dom going, Sebastian was at his wit’s end.
His exhaustion was such that he’d decided to use a couple days vacation after the holiday leave he was given. He’d gotten the idea from Braden when he mentioned in a text that he was looking forward to taking several days off over the coming holidays. He’d stayed in close contact with his new friend, though they hadn’t seen each other much since he’d visited Catharsis on Black Friday. They’d texted and talked over the phone many times, but he didn’t have the time to spare to get together with him that often.
He’d also belatedly realized that Braden was the protective sort, and when the questions began about him being sick or not looking well, he’d told his friend he had a couple doctors’ appointments and that he’d be pretty busy during the time leading up to the holiday before he could take a few days’ holiday vacation. If he’d made it sound like he had big holiday plans, all the better. He liked to avoid those questions and he figured the fact that he was using the time to rest was plan enough for him not to be lying.
The day before Christmas Eve and halfway through his last work day before vacation, Braden had called. He grinned as he answered, “Hey, you! What’s up?”
He could hear the answering grin in Braden’s voice when he replied, “Not much, but I know you’re about to go on vacation yourself and I wasn’t sure if you were headed out of town to see your family or if your family was coming to see you, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”
Sebastian deftly avoided answering that by trying to joke and distract his friend. “You’re so damn nosy. Get to the point already.”
Braden snorted out a laugh. “Will you be family free on New Year’s Eve?”
Evasive as ever, Sebastian replied, “Hmm, I might be able to shake myself loose, what’s going on?”
“There’s a big New Year’s Eve party I was invited to and I’m allowed to invite whoever I want. Will you come with me?”
A New Year’s Eve party? He’d never been to one before and his heart rate picked up at the prospect. “Really?!”
After a pause, Braden’s incredulous voice came over the line. “What do you mean, really? Yes! I want to see you. I’ve missed you.”
He grinned wide at that, knowing it was the truth and that he felt the same way. “I’ve missed you, too. Yeah, I can probably make it. What time?”
“Yay! Okay, I think it starts around seven or eight p.m., not sure. I’ll get back to you with the time and location.”
“All right, sounds good. Talk to you soon and Merry Christmas.”
“You too, bye!”
“Bye!”
He hung up the phone and stared at it for several beats. He jumped in his chair when his captain’s voice called out from his office door. “What’re you still doing here? And what’s put that smile on your face?”
“Uh, working? And nothing, really. A friend just called, that’s all.”
“Well, knock it off. There’s no smiling around here near the holidays, Sebastian, especially when I tell you to leave early. You have no more appointments today and there’s no need for you to stay. Have a good week off. Get the rest you need and we’ll sort everything else out when you get back.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. Get outta here. I don’t wanna see your face until next year.”
Sebastian laughed at his boss’s faux anger and nodded. “Yes, sir. Thanks so much and Merry Christmas.”
“You too, son.”
It was a Friday and as Christmas Eve was the next day, he didn’t schedule any tattoos for Saturday and he wasn’t scheduled with Gideon either because it was the holiday. He had time on his hands, but no energy in which to do anything, so he went home.
After a bi
t of rest and binge-watching some really awful television, he decided to get out his little miniature Christmas tree and set it up in his bedroom on top of the dresser that was just below his wide window at the back of his house. It was his only foray into Christmas decorating and it didn’t come out every year. It depended on his mood, but since he had some time off, he figured he could be a bit festive and get into the holiday spirit.
He baked half a batch of snickerdoodles, knowing he’d never eat enough of them before they went stale, and watched a movie on Netflix. It was Friday night. What the fuck was he going to do for a week? There was only so much sleeping he could do no matter how exhausted he was. He thought about showing up for work on Monday, or scheduling some tattoos, but he had a barrage of medical tests spread out later in the week, so that would keep him fairly busy after he was able to get plenty of rest.
He was getting increasingly nervous going outside of his home as the seizures increased in frequency and length. Having them in public was about as mortifying as you can get. Rather than helping and making him feel productive, going to work, tattooing, and especially going to see Gideon, were now an extreme source of anxiety. And the more anxiety he felt, the more becoming a recluse sounded like a good plan. He could have anything he wanted delivered, so he decided he’d order in and even get his groceries delivered.
Sitting around and eating sounded like a good idea. He was down a solid fifteen pounds and he hadn’t had any to spare in the first place. The mirror showed a gaunt, grayed-out version of himself and he knew that come Tuesday night, if he kept his appointment with Gideon, he’d be asking more about what was going on. Sebastian didn’t look forward to that, as he never made a habit of lying. He’d just have to be vague and tell Gideon he didn’t want to talk about it.
When Christmas Day rolled around he wasn’t feeling well, but he passed that off as feeling cooped up and needing to get out. He made himself a breakfast sandwich he had no hopes of finishing and filled his to-go mug with coffee. He bundled himself up and packed his supplies so he could head to the park and sit at a picnic table and draw.
