Layne, River & Damion

by Vicktor Alexander

  “I’m doing well,” Layne lied. I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts. I can’t sleep without you next to me. Did you know that, Damion? It’s not just because of what’s going on with me, it’s because of you. I need you right now. I ache for you. I need you to breathe and you’re not there. Layne cleared his throat and looked away. “Well, I will let you get back to work. Have a good evening, Damion.”

  He took a step forward, praying his legs would keep him steady. As he came abreast of Damion, Layne inhaled deeply, his nostrils filling with the scent of Damion’s cologne. His eyes slid closed for a moment, he was momentarily transported back four years prior to the moment when he and Damion had first discovered the Nautica scent. While Damion loved the Cool Water aroma on Layne’s skin, it was Nautica’s fresh and intoxicating fragrance infused with Damion’s normally wildly untamed, masculine and outdoorsy smell that they had discovered when they’d ventured out on a trip to the mall one weekend. It was this chemical blend that so enchanted Layne and kept him up in the middle of night.

  It was the memory of Damion that haunted him.

  And right now it was turning him on.

  Layne pressed the heel of his palm against the base of his erection and cleared his throat as he went to walk past Damion. He ignored his heart, that weak willed and insufferable organ, that sped up as he got abreast of Damion and simply pleaded with his body not to fail him. Not here. Not now. Not in front of his ex. The man whose heart he’d broken six months prior. The man he still loved.

  Layne startled when he felt Damion’s hand on his wrist and turned his head to look him.

  “I think enough time has passed now,” Damion said, looking everywhere but at Layne. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation now?”

  Layne wanted to play dumb. He really did, but he just didn’t think he could. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. A few strands came out with the motion and Layne stared at them in horror, trying to move his fingers behind his hand behind his back quickly before Damion could notice. He failed, which wasn’t that much of a surprise to him. His body was going through so many changes, why not his speed as well?

  “Layne? Why is your hair falling out?” Damion asked, pulling the strands from between Layne’s digits.

  Layne was tempted to snatch his hand away. To yell at Damion and tell him that people lost their hair every day and there was nothing weird about it happening to him. However, the fact that he could hear himself having those thoughts and identify that they were outside of his usual thoughts, let him know that they were because of his current, distressing situation.

  Causing him to lose Damion.

  So Layne didn’t say those words, though he wanted to. And even though he wanted to lie to Damion, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t lie to Damion. He’d made a promise to himself, to God that if Damion asked that he would be honest. Layne had lied to Damion about the reason why they’d broken up; he would be completely truthful about this.

  “It’s the chemotherapy. They said one of the side effects is that my hair would fall out,” Layne confessed.

  “C-chemotherapy?”

  Layne nodded. “I have cancer. Glioblastoma.”

  Damion gasped then narrowed his eyes. “How long have you known?”

  Layne swallowed. “Seven months.”

  Damion dipped his chin, then after lifting his head, reached up and shoved Layne into the bookshelves behind him. Layne reached out to grab his ex-boyfriend but raised his hands in a sign of surrender at the growl that rose from Damion’s throat. There were so many things to say, to explain, but the fierce expression on his ex’s face prevented him from saying anything. Damion’s dark brown visage rapidly changed from rage to despair to confusion and back again before settling on anger. It saddened Layne to see Damion’s gorgeous dark eyes grow even blacker, thunderclouds of barely concealed fury brewing in them.

  “So when you told me that I knew this was all over between us. That we weren’t in love any more… When you dumped me and made me leave our home…”

  Layne shook his head and interrupted, “I never made you leave—”

  Damion sliced his hand through the air. “No. You don’t get to speak. It’s my turn. Granted, I should have stayed. Talked to you. Had it out with you and figured out why you were just tossing me to the side after years and years of love, memories, laughter, and plans. I take responsibility for that. But you? To dump me because you have cancer? Did you really think that I wouldn’t support you? That I wouldn’t stand beside you through all of this? That I wouldn’t want to be there with you and share every single minute with you?”

  Layne’s breath caught in his chest as Damion stepped close to him. “Well fuck you, Layne. You wanted to die alone and without me, so you will.”

  Layne watched helplessly as Damion spun around and walked away, pushing his maintenance cart down the aisle and out of sight. His heart broke anew and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  River stood up on his tiptoes, stretching his arm up as he tried to reach up and place the book he’d been using back up on the shelf. Curse his short height. Something else he could blame his mother for. He loved the woman. He really did. But did she have to give all her bad genetics to him? Why not one of his other siblings? He got her thick, dark red curly hair, short height, nearsightedness, pale skin, and thicker frame. He got absolutely none of his father’s tall stature, muscled build, dark locks, olive flesh tone, or his impeccable hand-eye coordination. No, from his father he’d gotten a love for academia, an allergy to citrus, a fierce loyalty to the Marine Corps, and the ability to say he was distantly related to a past Queen of France. Other than that, there wasn’t much of his father readily apparent in him.

  At all.

  “Here let me get that for you,” a deep voice said behind him and River squawked and teetered almost falling onto the floor.

  Dark arms wrapped around him and prevented River’s impending accident. River breathed a sigh of relief. Looking at his savior, River’s mouth went dry as he realized it was the janitor from earlier that day.

  “T-thank you,” he stammered.

  “No problem.” The janitor shrugged.

  “River.” He smiled and held out his hand. Always remember to extend a hand in greeting to every stranger and a smile. You never know who they may turn out to be in your life. His mother’s words came to his mind and echoed throughout his subconscious as his palm connected with the other man’s.

  “Nice to meet you, River. My name’s Damion.”

  River swallowed nervously, restraining the urge to strip naked and climb Damion like a pole.

  “And you as well, Damion. So do you only work here as a janitor or do you also…”

  River’s question was cut short by the library being plunged into extreme darkness. River covered his mouth to mask the scream that threatened to burst forth, but if the way Damion wrapped his arms around River was any indication, then River hadn’t been entirely successful in his endeavor.

  “Damion? Are you okay?” A voice called out in the darkness. Deep, husky. It made River think of sex outside, beneath the stars, or even in Chainz, his favorite BDSM club back home.

  Damion stiffened and River tilted his head up, trying to see Damion’s expression in the dark, even though it was nearly impossible to do so in the dark.

  “You don’t like the librarian?” he asked.

  Damion chuckled. “Let’s just say that we have some history and leave it at that.”

  River nodded. If he didn’t know better he would almost think that Damion and the librarian had dated at one time, but that was ridiculous because they were both hot and why in the world would they break up? If the two of them couldn’t make it, what hope was there for average looking people like him?

  “I know we don’t know each other very well, but I’ve been told I’m a very good listener if you ever want to unburden yourself to me,” River offered.

  He heard Damion chuckle.
“You going to school to become a psychologist, jailbait?”

  “Ugh. No. I’m here for a degree in Marketing.”

  Damion didn’t speak for a while, and River wished the lights were on in the library so he could see the man’s face. Even when someone was trying not to convey any expression on their face there was always something, somewhere on their face, body, some small tic, jerk, something that gave away their true thoughts and feelings. River knew if he could only stare at Damion’s face right then he would be able to gauge exactly what the other man thought about his majoring in Marketing. And he wouldn’t be standing around, feeling blind, in the Yale University library.

  Although, why he cared what Damion thought about his major was completely baffling to him.

  “Marketing is a really interesting and, from what I hear, can be a really fun and difficult degree to obtain,” Damion said diplomatically.

  River frowned. “You don’t sound like you approve of me taking it.”

  River could feel Damion’s shoulders move next to him. “I have no say in this one way or the other, you are the one who doesn’t seem passionate about it. Not when you were telling me about it just now, or when you were studying it earlier. I mean…” He sighed. “I know doing papers or projects or whatever is a pain in the fucking ass, but when you’re doing it for a subject that you love, or about something that you’re passionate about, you lose yourself in it. Regardless. When I came on this aisle, I read the title of that book. It was a marketing book. You were studying this subject that you’re majoring in and you were acting as if it were going to jump out and bite you.

  “I’m not a psychology major so I may be completely off base here. It’s completely possible. But, I’m just telling you what I know from having gone to college and obtaining my Master’s in Elementary Education. I was excited the entire time, even when I was exhausted and frustrated. If you’re not excited about the subject that you’re majoring in, this field that you’ve dedicated the rest of your life to, then maybe you should choose something else.”

  River sighed. It was the exact same thing his parents had been telling him, his brothers as well. Even his best friend and his advisor had been trying to steer him away from marketing and back into art, which is where he shined and what he really loved. They didn’t understand. He wanted to be an artist. He did. But he needed to make money. It was important to him. Even more important than having his dream job. He had to be able to help his family. He was the baby of the family and they’d been taking care of him his entire life; it was time for him to give back.

  “Spoken just like a teacher. You’re going to do a great job molding impressionable young minds, Damion.” There was that voice again. The librarian. River looked over Damion’s shoulder even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see the other man, peering through the inky blackness that blanketed them like a shroud.

  River’s breathing sped up slightly. He could feel the tension in the air. It hung heavy between Damion and the librarian, thick and choking and River wanted to gag, his skin prickling from the feelings firing between the two men. He didn’t know if he should excuse himself or not. And perhaps he would have if he could see to distance himself. As it was he couldn’t move far without fear of falling or bumping into something.

  “How would you know if I’m going to be a good teacher, Layne? You know absolutely nothing about me. If you did, we would still be together, wouldn’t we?” Damion’s voice was hard, so different from the gentle, seductive tones it had been only moments before.

  “Dee—” Layne started. The loud emergency tone coming from the radio interrupted anything the librarian might have said and River jumped slightly. He sighed in relief when Damion’s arms tightened around him, giving him protection and comfort. The static of the radio coming to life after the harshness of the squeal from before was a welcome relief until the scratchy, hoarse, and tired voice of the reporter penetrated the fog of his addled brain.

  “This is Gavin Larson of WPLL, Your Philadelphia TV Station also being heard over national radio during this state of emergency. The snowstorm brushed off by many meteorologists has now been upgraded to a blizzard and one of the worst in our nation’s history. Many citizens in the north and on the east coast who were within the trajectory of the storm are even now buried under feet of snow so deep that not even the snow plows are able to get through in order to get them out.

  Many are without power and if you are in the path of the storm I sincerely hope you are prepared to spend days inside until the plows can finally get to you. Stay safe and stay warm. I will continue to bring you updates on the blizzard as we obtain them. I’m Gavin Larson. WPLL, Your Philadelphia TV Station.”

  Days in the library with two men he didn’t know? There was no way River was going to be able to survive. Even with all the space surrounding him in the building, River felt as if the walls were closing in on him. He bent forward, his hands on his knees and gasped for air. Oh fuck. What were they going to do for food? He knew the library had bathrooms so that was a small blessing, but would they starve before help came for them?

  “C’mon and follow me to the employee lounge in the back. We can sit down on the couches back there and I can check on the backup generator,” Layne ordered.

  River trembled as he felt Damion’s large hand rubbing up and down his back. He didn’t exactly know what the best course of action was at that point, but he wanted to move from where he currently stood. He needed to make sure the walls weren’t moving.

  “Are you okay?” Damion asked him softly.

  “Yeah,” River croaked out, rising and finding himself pressed against the janitor’s chest.

  “Fine.” Damion’s voice was hard. “We’ll follow you. I’m not sure how we’ll be able to see in the dark, though.”

  “Got it covered,” Layne responded and River could hear the smile in the other man’s voice. He grinned back almost instinctively. A small but very bright beam of light came on and River laughed.

  “You have a flashlight on your phone?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Layne said; he sounded sheepish. “I had to get it when Dee—um… my ex moved out. He’d taken all the flashlights in the house. So I got a new phone and an app that has the flashlight feature on it.”

  “That’s so cool.”

  River ignored Damion who had gone extremely stiff next to him. It really wasn’t his business what had gone on between the two men or what was still between them, but it was gnawing at him like an itch that wouldn’t go away. His mother was right about him. He was way too damn curious.

  “Are we gonna go or what?” Damion growled.

  “Yeah, let’s go.” Layne walked away and River grabbed the hand Damion placed in his own, tightly. He followed silently, his mind racing as he tried to figure out the dynamic between the janitor and the librarian. It was apparent that Damion was the injured party, or at least felt he was. Layne apparently agreed with the sentiment, however, since his every interaction and dialogue toward Damion had been of one trying to make amends for some slight. River just wished he knew what it was. Anything could be forgiven, couldn’t it?

  Not anything, and you know that better than most. His conscience mocked him.

  His situation was completely different, besides he wasn’t alone in his unforgiving. His family was right there with him. Acid rolled around in the pit of his stomach like a lead ball and River swallowed the bile that rose up in his stomach. The back of his neck grew hot and clammy with sweat and he had the sudden urge to look over his shoulder.

  Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no one else here. She’s not here. She’s in prison. You’re fine. You’re safe. You can protect yourself now.

  Even with those words replaying in his head, River pressed closer to Damion, trying to absorb the older man’s warmth and strength. He mentally chastised himself even as he did so. He’d thought he was long past this. Thought it was over. But all it took was one thought, one small trigger and the fear, the paranoia came rus
hing back.

  He could only hope that he handled it better this time than all the times before.

  “Here we are,” Layne’s voice penetrated the introspective fog River found himself in and he looked around. With the help of Layne’s cellphone, River was able to make out a few tables in the center of the room, surrounded by straight back chairs, four plush, overstuffed couches were pressed against the walls. There were two refrigerators, two vending machines, two soda machines, two instant cappuccino vending machines, one coffeemaker, a toaster, and a water cooler. And of course there were books. Piles and piles of books. There were bookshelves filled with novels and magazines. The tables were covered with them. And one of the couches had a few tossed on top, filled with bookmarks.

  River shook his head at the display, amazed. “I would have thought librarians would take better care of books,” he teased pointing at the broken spines.

  Layne chuckled and Damion’s hand twitched in River’s own. “These are the books the school was going to get rid of, that we found at bookstores that they were going to throw out, ones we found at garage and yard sales. Or even ones that students want to donate that we know the school won’t allow. Like…” Layne walked away from them, heading over to the bookshelf. When he returned he was holding a book in his hand. River looked down at the front of it. It was a great cover, it had three men on the front, with fresh, refreshing golden colors, and a greenish-blue tractor and cornfield, River was drawn to it instantly. He read the title and smiled. He’d heard of that book in his online book club.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Damion asked.

  “It’s a ménage book, and it has incest in it. But it’s consensual and it’s all between consenting adults,” River answered.

  “You’ve read it?” Layne asked.

  River’s face grew hot. He shuffled his feet. “I bought it because a friend of mine told me it was ménage and the author had put out a challenge asking if people really believed love is love. It was really hot, well written, and actually loving.” He shrugged even though they probably couldn’t see him in the darkness of the room and the flashlight wasn’t pointing at him. “I really liked it.”