by E M Lindsey
Derek dragged a hand down his face, then drank more beer just to give himself something to do as he tried to find the words he was looking for. “It’s slow, it sucks. It’s like…he has to spell half the words, and I know he’s not using the right grammar because I’m taking ASL right now and the grammar’s still a little confusing. None of it’s natural and it feels like it’s going to be a hundred years before I can even get half that fast. I can’t imagine how tired it must make him.”
“But you’re doing it,” Amit said. “I don’t want to overstep here so I won’t say much, but I do know that the fact that you’re doing this on his terms means everything. Because there have been people who wouldn’t in his past.”
“You mean Chad,” Derek said darkly.
“He told you about that guy?” Amit asked, sounding a little surprised.
Derek snorted a laugh. “Yeah, he fucking did, and I wouldn’t mind flying my ass to DC and delivering an epic beat-down if I knew where to find him.” In truth, Chad was probably in politics right now. A guy like that probably would have gotten along famously with his dad. Hell, he was probably closeted and engaged to someone with high aspirations of visibility in the government. Derek had grown up with too many people like that, and he knew how their lives went.
“You and me both,” Amit said. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. Basil knows what he wants, and it’s not that asshole.”
Derek chanced a look over, and he felt something raw and possessive take over as the guy’s hand grabbed at Basil’s arm and touched the ink there. In the back of his mind, he supposed that was another danger of marking someone he was growing attached to—the idea that the ink was still his, that he had some right to it. He swallowed it down like a bitter horse pill and forced himself to look away.
“You’re good for him, and he knows it,” Amit told him softly. “Don’t let that asshole get to you. He’s going to walk away alone tonight, and you’re not. And you’ll wake up with Basil more times than you won’t over the rest of your lives, and that’s what matters.”
He wanted that. More than anything, he wanted that, but he was still a little too terrified to hope. Before he could reply though, movement out of his periphery distracted him and he turned his head to see the guy storming off and Basil slowly making his way over.
He was still pink in the cheeks, flush and frustration clouding his features, but when he reached for Derek, his touch was soft. ‘I’m sorry,’ he told him again.
Derek shook his head. ‘Not your fault.’
Basil looked just a little guilty, and he shrugged, taking a drink first before he answered in spelling and sign to make sure Derek caught it all. ‘We had a bad date. He saw some guys from your shop at the restaurant and called them trash, so I left him there and never texted him again. Later he tried to apologize, and I let him think I might give him a second chance. I didn’t mean to, I was just confused.’
‘If you want to think about things,’ Derek began, but Basil quieted him by gently touching the back of his hand and shaking his head.
‘No. I don’t want him. He’s an asshole.’ He spelled it first, then offered the sign, and Derek couldn’t help a small grin.
‘You’re sure?’ Derek pressed.
Basil nodded. ‘I’m sure.’
Amit grinned at them both before replacing Basil’s beer and then lifting his hands to sign at Derek, ‘I told you.’
Derek really didn’t mind that I told you so at all.
Chapter Fifteen
Basil let his eyes close for a minute, though it really was near impossible to relax with a tattoo needle tearing into his arm. It was worth it, and the pain wasn’t unbearable, but he was learning quickly he was never going to be the kind of guy who was addicted to the process. He’d never look like Derek or Sage, he couldn’t imagine coming here every week to have a new image carved on his skin.
He did, however, find himself in the shop a lot in the few weeks since the night he and Derek ended up in Amit’s bar, confronted by Jay. When he let himself think about it for longer than a moment—the idea that Jay had followed Derek into the bathroom to confront him without Basil there—he found himself overcome with a rage he wasn’t used to feeling. The situation had been handled, though a few days after the incident Basil found himself having to block Jay on his messenger after waking up to a novel of why the two of them should be together instead of him and Derek. It was the same drivel Jay vomited at the bar, and Basil’s feelings hadn’t changed on the matter.
‘He’s not like us,’ Jay had insisted, his hands tense and pointed.
‘I don’t even know what that means,’ Basil countered. ‘Just because he has tattoos…’
Jay scoffed, his eyes rolling. ‘I don’t mean the tattoos, though I noticed yours and I can’t believe you let someone do that to you.’
‘Him,’ Basil signed pointedly, his hand steady as he indicated Derek who was across the bar with Amit. ‘I let him do it to me.’
Jay’s cheeks pinked and he looked almost uncertain, which was what Basil was hoping for. ‘I don’t care. I can learn to live with it. But I won’t sit by and watch you waste more time on some hearing guy who will eventually just treat you like shit. I know about Chad.’
Basil felt rage boiling in him, his hands trembling now in an effort to keep from clocking the guy in the face. ‘You’re hearing.’
Jay flinched like he’d been slapped. ‘Not the way he is.’
‘Worse than he is,’ Basil told him, his face screwed up in a grimace. ‘You’re entitled and superficial and you refuse to acknowledge that you’re part of the problem. You’re more like my shitty ex than Derek will ever be, and I would rather take a thousand hours of speech therapy and never sign another word for the rest of my life than go on another date with you.’ Basil took a breath for courage, then leaned in close, cleared his throat, and dredged up ancient muscles he hadn’t used in years. “So fuck you,” he said, and watched Jay visibly step back at the sound of his voice. “Never text me again.”
He stalked off and went right back to Derek and made sure he spent the rest of the night reassuring Derek he was exactly where he wanted to be. Any doubts of what he wanted had been erased by Jay’s confrontation, and in spite of knowing it would be harder as their relationship progressed, he wasn’t afraid anymore.
He wouldn’t start speaking now, but he had meant what he said to Jay. Not that he’d ever be in that sort of position, but he would have chosen giving up sign over dating a person like Jay, and he wouldn’t have resented it for a second.
He opened his eyes after a moment, looking down at Derek’s face which was drawn and almost blank in his concentration. It took some getting used to, reading far more subtle facial expressions on Derek than Basil had grown accustomed to in his own community, but in a way, he liked it. It was like learning a private language, and when he managed to get something right, it felt overwhelmingly rewarding.
Like tonight, for example, their lesson before his next tattoo, there had been a tension in Derek most people might have missed, but he didn’t. There was also a quiet, private look that begged anyone who had seen it not to ask, and Basil hadn’t missed that either. So he simply gave Derek a soft, lingering kiss, and then handed over his arm to let Derek work. The profound gratitude in Derek’s eyes was enough to tell Basil he’d done the right thing. Eventually Derek would trust him to share, and that’s all that mattered.
It was more than an hour into the session when Basil noticed Sage—who was sitting in his periphery doing something on a woman’s ankle—sat up straight. It was often startling just how much he looked like Derek, but there were differences in the way his face rested. Now though, as Basil looked between both brothers, it was difficult to see them. They wore identical expressions of worry.
It took Basil a second to realize the interruption was from Derek’s phone. Sage had stood up, pointing at it, and Derek shook his head as he switched off his machine and reached for it. Basil couldn’t read their lips well enough,
but he did catch, ‘Dad,’ from Sage, and he saw the way Derek’s cheeks pinked.
Basil wanted to stand up and demand that Derek let Sage take over. He knew what interacting with their father cost the man he was falling for, but it wasn’t his place. He simply looked back and forth, and felt his stomach drop when Derek finally reached for his phone and pressed it to his ear.
He shed his gloves as his lips formed the words, ‘Yeah, dad?’ As he moved to drop his gloves into the bin, Basil watched as all the color drained from his face. There was a sudden and subtle tremor to his fingers, and he sat back with a dull expression. Basil caught, ‘Yeah,’ and, ‘when,’ but that was it, though he knew whatever else he was saying had startled Sage.
Someone else had taken over the ankle-tattoo woman, and Sage had squeezed himself into Derek’s stall, touching his shoulder. The two of them stared at each other, like everything in the shop had faded away, and Basil felt a little like a voyeur as he stared at them.
After what felt like an hour, though couldn’t have been more than five minutes, Sage backed away and Derek set his phone down. There was a hollowness to his eyes as he glanced back up, like he was just remembering what he was doing, and who was sitting in his chair. Then he licked his lips and raised his fist. ‘Sorry.’
Basil leaned forward, reaching out to touch him, but felt his heart stutter when Derek pulled away and shook his head.
‘My dad,’ he signed, and then he faltered.
Swallowing thickly, Basil got his attention and focused hard. ‘Say it,’ he signed. ‘I’ll read your lips.’
Derek hesitated, like he wanted to tell him no, then he shrugged and said, “My dad died.”
Basil fell back against the seat in shock. His hands lifted, then dropped down, then lifted again, but he didn’t know what to tell him. What the hell could he say? When his parents had died, every word a person said or signed for months after felt trite and meaningless. The sympathies and the condolences only made him felt worse, and more alone, to the point his grief began to feel like rage, and he had to fight the urge to punch people every time they spoke.
After a beat, Derek picked up the machine again, but Basil moved to the end of the chair and gently laid a hand on his arm. ‘No,’ he signed. ‘Stop.’
Derek looked at him with desperate eyes. “Please,” he said aloud. “I need this.”
Basil bit his lip, but he knew Derek would deal in his own way. He looked around, but Sage was long gone, and finally he settled back and offered his arm again. Some of the tension drained out of Derek’s shoulders, and when he took Basil’s arm, he stroked his thumb near an unmarked patch of skin and gave him a look of such gratitude and thanks, it made Basil’s heart twist.
He felt the vibrations of the machine start up again, felt the sting of needles pressing into his skin, and he closed his eyes to let it happen. He expected Derek to take hours more, expected him to use Basil’s body to work through his grief. But suddenly, he was finished. Suddenly, the machine was off, and he was being wiped down and wrapped up, and then Derek stood and walked out of the room.
Basil blinked, startled by the abrupt ending, and he glanced around to see Sam wheeling closer to him, a concerned look on his face. ‘Sorry,’ Sam mouthed.
Basil shook his head, feeling a little irritated that no one else in the shop spoke any real sign, and it triggered a little bit of his hesitance at continuing something more serious with Derek. This. This was the position he didn’t want to be in.
Sam, however, reached for him and touched his arm, then pointed to the back door which Basil hadn’t gone through before. He nodded at Basil, then pointed again, and Basil understood what he was trying to say.
His legs shook a little, his body still humming from the endorphins released by the pain, but he managed a steady stride all the way back, then through the door which led right into a small room. The walls were covered in flash, a single table in the middle surrounded by five chairs, and the top a mess of markers, colored pencils, and charcoal sticks.
Derek was there, his face in his hands, elbows shaking as they held him up. He didn’t acknowledge Basil walking in, but when Basil touched his shoulder, Derek stiffened. He felt his throat tighten with what he was about to do, but all this reminded him that he was well and truly falling for this man, and this man was hurting.
“Derek,” he said aloud. He’d been practicing in secret, and no real way to tell if he’d gotten in right, but the speech lessons he’d taken when he was dating Chad had been burned into his memory forever. He’d always been bitter about them. Until now. Until Derek looked up with wide, watery eyes, shocked at the sound of Basil’s voice.
With trembling hands, Derek used the table to push himself up. He hovered over Basil for a second, hands in the air almost uselessly until they cupped the sides of Basil’s face and his thumbs stroked over his heated skin. He didn’t say anything, just looked at him, but that look was a novel of words.
He was hurting, and he didn’t know what he wanted, but there was gratitude lurking behind the pain at Basil’s presence.
“I’m sorry,” he said, continuing to speak.
Derek shook his head, his hands drifting from Basil’s cheeks to his wrists. He squeezed them gently, raising them, before letting him go. ‘Sign. Please. I know you hate voice.’
Basil went up on his toes to even their height, then he kissed him. Nothing deep, just a soft press of lips to remind Derek that he was here, and he’d do anything for him. Literally anything. He pulled back as Derek’s hands settled on his waist, and he gave himself enough space to sign. ‘What can I do?’
‘Nothing,’ Derek told him. ‘I need to…’ His hands fluttered to a stop, then he shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
Basil knew, though. He knew what came after. The paper work and the meetings and dealing with everything left behind. There would be creditors to deal with, and debt, and any property. He knew very little about Derek’s past, but he knew his father had been a disgraced politician and that meant there would be more than just the standard will. It meant things would come to light, and Sage and Derek would have to come forward after disappearing, and it meant there would be questions.
Derek would have to decide if he wanted to tell the truth—if he wanted the world to know what he’d suffered at the hands of that man.
‘I want to help,’ Basil told him, making sure Derek didn’t break their gaze. ‘Please.’
Derek licked his lips, then nodded. ‘Stay with me? Tonight. Sage and I need to fly to New York. I can’t ask you to come, too far, too long.’
Basil shook his head firmly. ‘No. Not too far. Not too long. Amaranth can work, I can go with you. Please.’
Derek looked torn, but eventually he nodded and dragged Basil into a fierce embrace. His stubbled chin brushed along Basil’s jaw as he smudged kisses all across his skin. Basil felt breath against his ear, a vibration under his fingers as Derek spoke something. Then he pulled back and repeated it in sign. ‘Thank you.’
Basil cupped his cheek and held him fast. There weren’t words to make this better, so he didn’t try to offer any.
Basil had finally drifted off, and Derek slipped from the bed as carefully as he could. He was torn in half, desperately craving touch and comfort from the man he was half-way in love with, and desperate to fall apart on his own because he hated when people saw him at his weakest. Most of the time he didn’t have a choice, but the way his father’s death was hitting him was like nothing else he’d experienced.
The anxiety was there—the crushing feeling like the world was spinning out of control and there was nothing he could do about it. But beyond that was an anger. An anger, because his father died before Derek could squeeze one last favor out of him. He died before Derek could force him to look both him and Sage in the eyes and acknowledge what he’d done. The man had left the world probably feeling like he’d had every right to torture his sons—that it had done some good for them.
And there was no way to
change that now.
There was no way to drag that man back from the grave, from hell, and force him to face the messes he’d made during his fall from grace.
Derek made it to the living room, back pressed to the far wall next to the window, and he sank down. He let his face fall into his hands and his shoulders shook with dry sobs. His eyes were aching and raw, but no tears came. Derek had cried enough thanks to that man, and he had nothing left to give. But the hollow feeling in his gut was eating at him and he just wanted it to stop.
He jolted when his phone began to buzz on the table, and he leapt for it before he remembered that Basil wouldn’t hear it anyway. He saw his brother’s name on the screen and debated ignoring it, but he wasn’t that cruel. He had to face this with Sage, regardless of whatever else he planned to do.
“Hey.”
Sage cleared his throat. “I just got off the phone with dad’s lawyer. He said there’s a lot to go over, but I…but he…”
Derek could hear what Sage wasn’t saying. “He left it all to you,” he said flatly.
“I don’t want it,” Sage said in a rush. “Fuck that old man, I don’t fucking want any of it.”
Derek let out a bitter laugh, letting his head fall back against the wall with a heavy thud. “I don’t care.”
“You took care of him,” Sage growled. “The last three years, when that stupid fuck was dying, you took care of him. You answered every call and didn’t say a word against the abuse he shouted at you, and you made sure he didn’t suffer. He fucking deserved to suffer, Derek, but you are a better person than I will ever be. I don’t want any of this.” Sage let out a tiny sob, and Derek swallowed back his own.
“I don’t want it either, you know,” he admitted, his voice raw and hoarse. “I don’t care that he left it to you. I wouldn’t touch it even if it would mean I wouldn’t have to use a single student loan ever again.”
Sage was quiet a long moment, then he sighed, “What do we do? The lawyer says you need to be there—there’s shit that involves you, and he thinks some of dad’s old colleagues are going to have some questions.”
