Luke nodded again, shuffling to his feet, looking so shaky that I wanted to pull him into a hug and hold him until he felt steadier. I settled for wrapping the blanket around him to stop his shivering and led him to the couch in the living room. “I’ll be just two minutes, yeah?”
I got the tea ready as quickly as I could. With two mugs of tea in my hands, I went back into the living room to find Luke staring at the wall and biting his lip in a way that made me think he was trying to stop himself from crying.
“Luke?” I whispered, not wanting to startle him. His eyes refocused and he took the mug from my hand. I sat down on the couch beside him, making sure to leave enough space so he didn’t feel boxed in.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered in the same low voice as I took a sip of my tea.
He seemed to contemplate whether he wanted to tell me or not. I knew the bare minimum. He’d told me he’d been in an abusive relationship, but that was all I knew. I’d never asked him for more because honestly, I wished he could forget it all, but I knew it wasn’t as easy as that.
I could pinpoint the exact moment he made his decision because he closed his eyes, took a shuddering breath before opening his eyes again. He kept his eyes trained on the wall as he started speaking, “My parents found out I’m gay when I was seventeen. My dad beat the shit out of me and then threw me out with only the clothes I was wearing. I spent a year on and off the streets, doing odd jobs, living in shelter homes.”
His voice was so smooth, so monotonous as if he was reading me the paper and not telling me that he had assholes for parents. I bit my lip to keep from interrupting and waited for him to continue, even as my hands curled into fists on his behalf.
“When I was eighteen, I met this guy. He was older than me. And rich. And he said he wanted to date me. Not hook up, but date. He took me out on dates, lavished me with meals and new clothes and before I knew it, I was moving into his house because he said he didn’t want me suffering outside when he had a perfectly good house. He gave me my own room and for a while everything was awesome. I couldn’t believe my luck. And obviously, I was right to wonder.”
He stopped, closing his eyes and swallowing the rest of the tea in one go before carefully placing the mug on the table. He curled in on himself again and without thinking, I opened my arms to him in invitation. He stared at me for half a second, as if the concept of a hug was foreign to him, before shuffling closer and resting his head in the crook of my shoulder. He kept his hands buried in his own lap, and I rested my arm on the couch’s headrest while I using the other one to rub his arm comfortingly, making sure to only touch clothed skin.
He took a deep breath as if steeling himself and continued, “It started off small. He’d ask me what I did today and I’d be so happy to tell him about it because I thought for the first time someone gave a shit about me. But then he started getting more controlling. He stopped me from meeting friends or going out at all. After about eight months of dating, he took me on a vacation and then he...decided to share me with a bunch of his friends.” His voice was almost a whisper at the end, and I had to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut and my hands loose. I didn’t want to scare him but I sure wanted to hurt the motherfucker who would do something so vile to someone so beautiful. He’d been, what, nineteen? What kind of monster treats a nineteen year-old like that? Hell, what kind of monster treats anyone like that?
“Everything changed that night.” his voice had switched back to that disconnected tone from before as he continued, “I finally realized what he truly was like. After that, for two years, he kept me locked up in the room he’d given me so I couldn’t leave. It wasn’t like I’d known many people when I met him and he’d already alienated me from the few friends I’d managed to make on the streets, so there was no one to care when I suddenly disappeared. He kept me cuffed to the bed, or chained to it and always locked the door. So many times, I tried to get away, but every time, I failed. And then he’d punish me for trying to leave. So I gave up trying. One day he somehow forgot to lock it, and the housemaid opened the door because she’d been curious. She screamed when she saw me because...because she thought I was dead. But she saved my life. Then the cops arrived and Mama D found me and now here I am.” I could barely hear his voice by the time he finished speaking, but I could feel his heart beating wildly against my chest. I felt sick at the thought of what had been done to him. She thought he was dead. How badly had he been hurt that he’d looked dead?
My shirt was warm and wet with his tears and my chest felt as if it was burning.
“You’re so brave, Lu,” I whispered and I wasn’t surprised to hear the tears in my own voice. I was angry yes, but more than anything, I hurt for all the pain Luke had felt, for all the pain he still felt daily.
Luke chuckled against my neck, but it wasn’t a happy sound in any way. “Yeah, right. I’m scared to go to sleep and you think I’m brave.”
I leaned back, making him move away and look at me. Slowly, making sure he knew what I was doing, I took his face gently between my palms, wiping his tears with my thumbs. “You are brave, Luke. You’ve survived so much and you’re still here fighting and living. Of course, you’re brave. You’re the bravest man I know and I’m proud to be your friend, okay?”
Luke’s eyes filled with tears again and he jumped at me, his arms curling around my neck, his face pressed against my chest. I put my arms around him, cradling him close. I pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head and held him as he clung to me, sobbing quietly into my chest. At that moment, I swore to myself that I’d do everything I could to make sure Luke never suffered like this again. And if I couldn’t, I’d damn well make sure I was there to fight alongside him.
I woke up to bright sunlight and a warm weight pressing against my front. It took me a moment to remember where I was and who lay on my chest. Opening my eyes, I looked down at the sleeping form of Luke and smiled. We were in pretty much the same position as last night, with his arms loosely curled around me and his head on my chest. His dark hair hid his face from me, but the deep breaths told me he was still asleep. I contemplated trying to slip away and making him some breakfast, but I didn’t want to risk waking him, especially after how little he’d slept last night. I was surprised to have slept for so long myself. Usually, I was up before the sun rose. Maybe it was because of the late night...or maybe it was because of the company that I’d managed to sleep so well.
Shaking my head, I leaned over and grabbed the book I’d been reading last night. Better be reading than staring at him like a creep when he woke up, right? It took me a while to get into the book since my mind kept going back to everything Luke had revealed last night. He’d suffered so much and I was in awe of him for having survived it and reclaiming his life like he had. He’d been help captive by a madman for three years of his life. I couldn’t even imagine the kind of trauma he must’ve gone through during that time, and here he was, building his life back up again, trudging on despite every episode, every nightmare that hindered his progress.
As I thought about it, I realized I needed to remember that he wouldn’t like it if I let this information affect my treatment of him in any way. He was still the same Luke he’d been yesterday. The only change was that I knew more about his past but not his present.
And so I made myself focus on the words in the book I was supposedly reading. Soon, I was into the book and I must have read for around an hour before Luke stirred. I knew the exact moment he woke up because he went stiff in my arms as he realized where he was. Before he could panic, I murmured softly, “Good morning, Luke. Did you sleep well?”
“Uh,” Luke mumbled and straightened up, sliding away from me. “Yeah, yeah I did.”
“That’s great. I was thinking that I’ll make some breakfast and you can grab a shower if you want?”
Luke was up before I’d finished talking, and I could practically see the nervousness and anxiety wafting off of him. “Yeah, that’s a great idea.”<
br />
“Toast and scrambled eggs okay?”
Luke nodded and I stood up, stretching my arms and cracking my neck. God, sleeping on a couch was an awful business.
“Scott?” Luke’s voice was a whisper and I turned around to where he was standing at the door to the bedroom.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for being there for me last night.”
I smiled softly, shaking my head, “You’re my best friend, Luke. I’ll always be there for you. And thank you for trusting me and sharing with me.”
Luke smiled. It was a small, barely-there tilt of his lips, but it was there and I counted it as a win. Luke left the room then, and I made my own way to the kitchen. I had some breakfast to make.
11 | Luke
I slammed the bathroom door behind me and leaned against it, trying to force some air into my lungs. The fact that I’d done this way too many times in the past few months wasn’t lost on me. But then again, where else could I freak out in private than in the bathroom? Last night’s dream had been horrible, more so than the usual ones. I blamed it on the change in the surrounding, though I wondered if it was because of the way I’d started to feel about Scott. It was only when we'd been on our way back from the hike that I'd realized why my heart was beating so fast. That when I'd thought Scott was calling me beautiful, I'd liked it.
Though I also knew nothing could happen with Scott. He was the best person I’d ever known, my best friend and now that he knew everything, why would he ever want me anyway? I was damaged goods, through and through. There was no point fantasizing about anything happening between us. No point at all.
Shaking my head, I undressed quickly and stood under the shower, letting the cold water wash over me before it warmed. I showered quickly, avoiding looking at the scars that were yet another proof of my fucked-upness. I'd already had a shitty night, I didn't need the memories ruining my day too.
Turning off the shower, I dried myself before slipping into the clothes I’d brought into the shower. Pulling my sleeves over my wrists, I realized that maybe I didn’t need to hide all of me anymore. Scott knew my past, so maybe I didn’t need to hide everything from him anymore.
Blowing out a breath, I pulled my sleeves up to my elbows, leaving the scars on my wrists out in the open for the first time in a year and left the room before I could change my mind or over think. I pulled my hair into a bun as I walked into the living room. I could hear the music coming from the kitchen so that’s where I headed.
“It smells delicious in here,” I took a deep breath as I walked in, taking in the scent of frying eggs, buttered toast and a fresh pot of coffee. Scott looked up from where he was working on the eggs and smiled at me. “The smell of coffee is the best thing to wake up to.” He intoned, making me smile.
His eyes examined me from head to toe and his smile widened when he saw my bare arms. Did he realize what it meant? Did he know how much I’d come to trust him, this man who wouldn’t leave me alone all those months ago?
Still smiling, he dished out the eggs and toast before placing them on the kitchen counter and I did the same with the coffees, adding milk and sugar to his. We sat side by side on the barstools and I curled my palm around the warm coffee mug while grabbing the fork. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. Did I ignore everything that happened last night? Did I thank him again?
“Luke,” Scott said before I could decide, and the strangled, hoarse edge to his voice made me look up at him. But he wasn’t looking at me, no, he was looking at my wrists, at the bracelet-like scars that covered it. Wearing metal cuffs for close to two years did that to your skin, unfortunately.
He grabbed my hands, gently like he always was with me—even before I’d told him about my past, which was why it didn’t feel like he was trying to treat me with kid-gloves like some people did—and moved them so they were resting in his hands, palms up. His thumb traced the scars and for the first time in my life, I was glad for them. Because they hid the other scars, the scars I’d never want Scott to see or know about. The scars I’d made myself. I hadn’t cut in months, but the evidence was still there, hidden as it was by the other more prominent scars.
A drop of wetness plopped into my palm and I realized with a start that it was a teardrop.
“Scott?” I whispered, staring at his bowed head. He startled as if he’d been a million miles away and slowly pulled away, rubbing at his eyes roughly. “Shit, sorry. I just-I know it’s stupid and pointless but I hate that you suffered so much. I wish I could help somehow, that I could go back in time and help you when you needed it most.” He shook his head as if trying to shake the words away.
This time, it was me who grabbed his hand and I gripped it tightly with both of mine as I leaned forward, urging him to look up. When he did, I made sure to lock my eyes with his as I said, “You do help me, Scott. More than you realize. These past few months have been the best days of my life. You’ve helped me turn back into the person I was before him. Sure, I’m still fucked up in a lot of ways, but you’ve taught me how to smile again, to laugh and how to live again. I didn’t-I didn’t think I’d ever feel like that again. You’re the best thing that's ever happened to me, Scott Riley.”
He bit his lip as if he didn’t believe me and then I was moving before I’d made a conscious decision to do so and pressing my lips to his. I kissed him slowly, softly and he repaid in kind, his lips caressing mine gently. I was glad to be holding his hand though, because I wasn’t sure I could deal with him touching me right now. It’d be too much.
I pulled away quickly as my brain came back online, shocked that I’d kissed him. His eyes though, they were the warmest I’d ever seen them, the amber glowing bright. I closed my own eyes and stiffened as I realized what I’d just done. I’d just ruined our friendship. Because why would he want to be with me as anything other than a friend? When he could find any guy out there with far less baggage and scars? I bowed my head, trying to figure out how I’d get out of this place. Maybe I could bo-
“Stop, Luke.” My eyes snapped open at his words, but I didn’t look up at him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t see disgust and pity in the eyes that I’d only seen warmth in for as long as I'd known him.
“Luke, look at me.” His voice was soft but determined, and I found myself looking up at him. It wasn’t there. There was no disgust, no pity in his eyes. Just the same warmth as always, more so than usual, actually.
“I know you probably won’t believe me because I know you, but you’re the best thing that ever happened to me too, Luke Smith. You’re not fucked-up. The people in your life were. But you, you are beautiful and bright, clever and snarky and I...I care about you a lot.”
I stared at him with a frown. I never knew what to expect from this gentle, amazing man. Did he really mean that? Did he really care about me that much? “What are you saying, Scott?”
Scott smiled at me with a soft look in his eyes before replying, “I’m saying that I’d like you to kiss me again. I’m saying that the next time we go out, I want to go as your date. I’m saying that maybe I’d like to be your best friend and your boyfriend.”
I’m sure my confusion was written on my face in neon letters. I shook my head, dislodging my bun in my intensity. Freeing one hand, I pushed the hair behind my eyes as I thought about what I wanted to say. “You can do so much better, Scott. There are thousands of guys out there who’d be a better match for you, who have a lot less baggage and a lot more they can give you. I don’t want to do anything that may lead to me losing you, Scott.”
Scott shook his head, grabbing my free hand and squeezing it, “I don’t care if there are a million other guys out there that you think might be a better fit for me, Luke. And you know why? Because none of them would be you. You mean so much to me and I don’t care about your baggage. I’ll help you and share the load with you if you’d let me, and I‘d do it happily.”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “I’m scared, Scott. I can’t lose you. I can’t. And if we d
o this, I know I will. I won’t be able to be everything you need and then you’ll leave me and I’ll be all alone again.” My voice shook as I said that last part, but it was true. Sure, I had Angie and Mama D, but they didn't get me the way Scott did.
“I will never leave you, Luke, trust me on that. And you are everything I need. Everything I want.” His voice was gentle, his grip on my hand firm, but he wasn't getting the point.
I breathed unsteadily, realizing I’d have to spell it out for him to get it, “I can’t have sex with you, Scott. I probably never will. I want to, but I can’t. And even if you say you’re fine with it, you won’t be later. And then you’ll dump me and you’ll leave.” My voice had lowered to a whisper as I voiced out my biggest fear. Who would want someone who couldn’t even give them something as simple as sex?
Then there was a finger at my chin, tipping it up. “Open your eyes, Lu.”
My heart warmed at the nickname and I opened my eyes to meet his warm gaze. “I don’t care about sex, Luke.”
I opened my mouth to argue but he shook his head. "Hear me out. Do you know what demisexuality is?"
I nodded, because of course I did.
"Well, that's me. I’m somewhere on the demi-slash-graysexual spectrum. It takes me a long time to be comfortable enough with someone to even want to have sex with them. And sex has never been something I've needed in a relationship. If we never have sex, I'd still be the happiest guy out there. And if some day down the road, you're comfortable enough to have sex and I am too, then I'd love to share that with you, but not until we’re both ready." I heard the sincerity in his voice and I believed him because he had no reason to lie.
He took a deep breath and looked into my eyes, his warm gaze grounding me and making my heart flutter all at the same time, “Give us a chance, Lu.”
I trusted him enough to know that he wasn’t lying. He’d wait for me. And if I was never ready, he’d be okay with that too. But was I ready for a relationship? Could I risk our friendship for it? I looked into his warm, slightly hopeful eyes and I knew my answer.
Finding You Page 7
