Eromenos

by Theda Black

  “Dreams don’t make you crazy,” Seth hedged.

  Anger edged Xander’s tone. “No? He’s growing stronger. He’s real, Seth. He’s real. Almost here. Harvey wasn’t the first. And now he’s coming after me.”

  Seth stared at him. “Harvey wasn’t the first to go crazy? Somebody else lost their shit because of you and your dreams?” He stopped, hearing his tone. When he opened his mouth again nothing else came. There was no sane way to talk about this, and Xander offered nothing more.

  He thought about things that made people crazy. Disease. Physical trauma, bad circumstances, terrible lives. Not dreams.

  Xander had gone after his goals, his hopes and yeah, his dreams. The good ones, the life he wanted. He’d done it without anyone’s help or support, without family or a home to fall back on. And now he was losing his mind.

  He was going to lose everything, and Seth didn’t know a single thing to do or say to make it different.

  He fell asleep thinking about it, and in his dreams he heard the music of a pan flute.

  9

  SPRING BREAK WAS just around the corner. For a change, Seth looked forward to going home. The pressure of finals coupled with Xander’s dreams every night made for a week of hell.

  The shadows beneath Xander’s eyes were bruised and dark. Seth was short on sleep, too, enough that he felt tired and snappish, but his anger had vanished. Whatever was going on wasn’t Xander’s fault.

  The temperatures dropped a couple of days before the break. Sharp, icy winds blew across campus. Seth and Xander studied in their room that night. The dorm was quiet as a tomb when Seth finally turned in. Xander still studied at his desk, reading in a small circle of light.

  Seth woke in the dark, early morning hours, blinking, pulse banging in his throat and ears. The sounds coming from Xander’s bed were awful, hoarse and hopeless. Seth jumped out of bed, across the room in seconds. He reached for Xander and pulled him into his arms, rubbing his back and talking low in his ear until he stopped screaming and started sobbing.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  “Sorry, I—I had a bad dream,” Seth called out. After a moment, whoever it was left.

  Xander quietened by slow degrees. His body stopped trembling.

  The fear and adrenaline Seth awakened with were long gone. His stomach roiled and his eyes were grainy. He lay down next to Xander, still holding onto him.

  He awakened in the morning, nose shoved into Xander’s shoulder, knees tucked behind Xander’s. The alarm clock beeped relentlessly. He tried to force his eyes open.

  Xander reached out, silencing the alarm. “I’m taking a road trip on the break. I don’t guess you—you want to come?” There was weight in Xander’s voice—vulnerability, the expectation that Seth would turn him down.

  Seth thought about spending more nights in the same room with Xander. More dreams. He was tired, and he’d promised his parents he was coming home for break. This time he wasn’t going to disappoint them. “I have to go home. I’ve been putting it off too long.”

  Xander rolled over, his face sleep-soft in the morning sun coming through the window, eyes dark and steady on Seth’s. There was something in his expression that Seth couldn’t name. It felt important.

  Xander nodded. “It’s okay. It was dumb to ask. I know you have family.”

  The look on Xander’s face, the words he spoke, nagged at Seth all day, even in the middle of a difficult exam that had Seth tugging his hair. Afterward, he wasn’t sure how he’d fared, but had a vague idea it hadn’t been too bad.

  It was his only test for the day. He wanted to go back to his room and relax.

  He was on the sidewalk in front of the dorm when he realized how much he craved a soda. Stopping in a little snack area off the lobby, he slipped a couple of dollars into the soda machine and grabbed the bottle, then turned around and stepped hard on someone’s foot.

  “Ow, shit!”

  “Sorry. Didn’t realize you were back there.” Seth grinned as Stephens limped backward. “Well hell, I’m pretty sure I didn’t break it for you,” he drawled. “What, are you in stealth mode? Try making a little noise next time.”

  “I’ll remember that. You’re like a fucking water buffalo.”

  Seth raised a brow. “And you watch too many nature specials. Got too much time on your hands? Is it lonesome up there in your widdle room all by yourself since Barnes cut out early this week?”

  “Look. Xander doesn’t like me, okay, but you don’t know me, so what say you stop following his lead.”

  Seth gave him a hard look, considering. He hadn’t really even thought about it, but…yeah. “Xander likes everybody, so I figure he must have his reasons.”

  “Maybe, but you don’t. I haven’t done anything.” Stephens sighed. “This week sucks.” He put money in the machine. It clicked and hummed and popped out a soda. “Wish I had booze to put in this.” Stephens looked at Seth, tired and a little wistful. “You wouldn’t happen to have any you’d want to come visit me with?”

  “No, nothing in the room,” Seth lied.

  “Great.” Stephens slumped. “So, you done for the day?”

  “Hell yes, I’m done.”

  Stephens smiled at Seth’s fervent tone. They stood looking at each other.

  “Yeah. Well, see you around.” Seth headed slowly to the elevator, then changed course and opened the door to the stairwell instead, door banging loudly behind him as it closed. He hunched his shoulders and climbed fast.

  It was fucking cold, all metal stairs and no carpet in sight. Seth burst out of the stairwell and opened the door to his room.

  Xander slouched in the worn chair in front of the TV, staring blankly.

  “How’s it going, zombie,” Seth said.

  “Zombie?” Xander looked at him, then back at the TV. “I guess. Hanging in. Still breathing.”

  “Zombies don’t breathe, breathing means you survived and beat the zombies. Congrats. Couldn’t tell for a second.”

  “What the fuck are you going on about. Your ass is strange,” Xander said.

  “My ass is fine. Just one more day, yeah? We can do it.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself.” Xander nodded, then looked down at his hands. “I know it’s been tough on you this semester, what with me, uh—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Not your fault,” Seth said. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Suddenly he was rethinking Stephens’ offer.

  “That’s no help when you had to live with it.”

  Seth walked to the cabinet and opened it, grabbed the nearly full bottle of Jack there, then opened the small refrigerator and snagged the beer.

  “Not doing this, Xan. It’s nothing you could stop on your own and I know that.” At the door he looked back. “You hear me, man?” There was that look on Xander’s face again that he’d seen lately, like he’d already left Seth a thousand miles back, yet somehow laid wide open. It made Seth turn away, his voice gruff. “Lay off those sleeping pills while you’re on break. Not like they’re helping.”

  “Seth. You don’t have to change rooms, okay? Next semester it’ll be better. I promise.”

  “Wasn’t going to.” He turned around, remembered thinking just a few nights ago about changing rooms again. Xander kept watching him. “I wasn’t,” Seth persisted.

  Xander dropped his head, nodding.

  Seth closed the door and stood outside for a minute, beer tucked under his arm and breath speeding up, wondering just what the fuck was going on with the both of them.

  Then he headed down the hall to Stephens’ room.

  10

  THE BEER WAS long gone, the soda not even a memory, leaving Stephens and Seth with only the Jack to drink. They did, straight from the bottle.

  “Stephens,” Seth said, musing.

  “Yah?” Stephens hitched his shoulder up higher and propped his head against it. It looked weird and horribly uncomfortable, like a
contortionist thing. Seth couldn’t decide whether to laugh or grimace at the dork. Stephens didn’t seem to notice.

  “Why do they call you Stephens? Why not Ray or Jack or, or, whatever, what is your first name?”

  “Hannibal.”

  “Oh my god.”

  “It sucks, all right.”

  “So why does Xander hate you?”

  “He doesn’t hate me.”

  Seth thought about it, recalled the look on Xander’s face in the hall that day, the set of his body. “I think he does.”

  “Nah. He’s just mad at me.”

  “About what?”

  “None ya.”

  “Come on. I want to know.” Seth wiped his mouth. Damn, he had one last exam tomorrow. At least it was in the early afternoon. He’d have time to sleep it off, maybe get in a few more hours studying later.

  “You know about Professor Harkinson and Xander, right?” Stephens asked, then looked incredulous at Seth’s blank look. “C’mon, you had to have known. The shit hit the fan after you moved in.” Stephens slapped Seth’s leg, looking gleeful. “Damn. You really don’t, do you? Harkinson was Xander’s professor in theology. Don’t it figure. The two of them ended up getting friendly. Really friendly,” Stephens said, peering closely at Seth to make sure he understood. Seth waved him away and Stephens slapped at his hand, ignoring Seth’s irritated look.

  “You’re a gossipy old man, Stephens.”

  “That mean you don’t want to hear the rest?” Stephens asked slyly, waiting. “Thought not. It died down between them after a few months. Don’t know why or who decided what, but it makes sense that Xander broke it off, considering what happened.” Stephens lifted the bottle and paused, thinking. “Xander's dick gets him in some trouble. He wasn’t like this last year.” He chugged from the bottle and then made a face, eyes and mouth wide. “Ugh, that stung.”

  “So what happened?” Seth’s curiosity got the best of him.

  “It was more serious than everybody thought.”

  “So what the hell happened?”

  The door flew open. Xander stood behind it. “Ought to make sure the door’s shut before you start mouthing off about people who live in the same hall as you.”

  “You’re down the other end—” Stephens started, uncomprehending. “You were listening.”

  “Xander—I—” Seth said. He stood and reached out. He stuttered, then stopped. Dropped his hands. He didn’t know what to say.

  “You could have asked, Seth. I’d have told you.”

  “Would you? Anyway, I didn’t know enough to ask.”

  Stephens opened his mouth.

  Xander glared at him until he closed it. “I thought Michael—I thought we were okay, mostly. We both agreed that that was it. It was never a big deal. Then he started calling me all the time, wanting to meet up. Saying crazy shit. I didn’t know what to do. Then he tried to kill himself.” Xander’s voice was level.

  “Yeah, everybody heard he went nuts first,” Stephens said helpfully. Xander glared at him. “What, it’s all over campus.”

  “Is he okay?” Seth asked. He blinked. Damn, he was drunk. It was hard to get his mouth working right.

  “He’s in some sanitarium out west,” Stephens said. “Seems like the Professor kept the relationship from the powers that be, or they’d both be out on their cans.”

  “It has nothing to do with you. Not that that ever fucking stops you from yapping.” Xander stood over Stephens.

  “You’re in my room, remember? What the fuck, I’ve never done anything to you.” Stephens stood. Xander was so tall he still loomed over him. “I don’t understand why you’re so fucking pissed at me!”

  “It figures you wouldn’t. Dave’s my friend, asshole.”

  “What—” Seth started again.

  Stephens turned to Seth and shrugged. “I don’t know what his problem is. I met up with Dave once, we got drunk. He spent the night, end of story.”

  “You hit on other guys when you’re wasted enough, don’t you, Mr. bi-curious chicken shit. The next day you’re busy trying to pull your hand back out of the cookie jar, talking shit about them and acting like the true dickless wonder you are. Bet that’s what you were gearing up for with Seth, huh? It isn’t happening.”

  “Wait a minute,” Seth said, taking a step toward Xander. The room wasn’t steady. “You can’t. Don’t talk for me. I’m right here.” He looked from Xander to Stephens and grinned. “Oh fuck me, the drama.”

  Xander grinned back, then quick as lightning glared at Stephens again. “And from now on, keep your nose out of my business. Everybody on this damn floor is tired of you.”

  “You’re such a dumb shit,” Seth said to Xander, laughing at the sudden change. He had to grab his arm to keep from falling.

  Seth heard the noises first, heavy breathing, soft murmurs. His dick stirred before he could open his eyes. Goddammit, not again. He rolled his head and looked at Xander’s bed. It was empty.

  Seth sat up and padded to the door, listening. The sounds came from the hallway. He cracked the door open quietly.

  Xander’s mouth was open, eyes closed, hands hanging loose at his sides. He leaned against the wall, pants undone. His hips rolled, thrusting slow and sure.

  Stephens made a greedy noise low in his throat, shifting on his knees in front of Xander. Xander’s cock appeared and disappeared into Stephens’ mouth, heavy and flushed, shiny with spit.

  Something warm and heavy coiled and clenched in Seth’s stomach. He hated it. He hated Xander, who’d made sure Stephens had stayed away from Seth but didn’t have the self-control to keep away himself. Who’d made Seth think, to begin to trust maybe there was something between them. Something he wanted so badly it scared him to fuck and back.

  Xander eyes opened, gleaming, face flushed, pleasure written all over him as Stephens sucked and licked.

  Seth’s stomach knotted harder. He’d wanted that, too, wanted to see the pleasure on Xander’s face and body when he touched him.

  Stephens. Goddamn Stephens, of all people.

  He watched Stephens’ blond head bob, swallowing Xander’s dick, his lips dragging up and down, swollen and red. Stephens groaned and pulled off, fingers ringing Xander’s cock, sliding tight to the base. Xander’s cock strained, veins bulging, pushing against Stephens’ grip.

  Stephens’ face was rapt, holding him there, and then he jerked him suddenly, hard and fast.

  Xander moaned, hips jerking. He arched out from the wall, and Stephens licked at the darkly flushed head pushing out from his fist. Xander braced his feet wide and fucked harder, faster, his fingers trying to dig into the wall behind him, going white with the effort. He made a choked sound, head flung back.

  Stephens tipped his head back, mouth open, as Xander came.

  Xander opened his eyes. He bunched a hand in Stephens’ hair at the top of his head and yanked so that Stephens’ back was arched and throat curved, vulnerable. Xander held him there, still, smoothing his other hand over Stephens’ exposed throat, his chin. He pushed two fingers inside his mouth.

  Stephens groaned again, breathy, sucking at the fingers. He tried to crabwalk closer to Xander on his knees and get his mouth on his dick again. His hand was in his pants, stroking himself. He burrowed his head against Xander’s stomach and muttered into his skin, let me, let me, oh God, and fuck me, let me come on you. He begged, called Xander names, names Seth had heard from Xander’s dreams.

  Seth watched, his mind going blank. Nothing made sense.

  Something in Xander’s face and body changed. He stirred against the wall like someone who’d just awakened. The muscles in his arms went rigid. He bent over Stephens, hands gripping his shoulders.

  Seth heard words: don’t let him, Stephens, no, tell him no, can’t let him hurt you—

  It was fucking ridiculous, but Seth wanted to puke again. Xander made him want to puke. He was insane.

  He opened the door all the way and stood there, watched Xander’s eyes grow w
ide, watched him push Stephens away. Stephens fell over on all fours. Xander pulled at the flaps of his pants, stuffed himself inside.

  Seth couldn’t get enough oxygen. He let Xander see the contempt on his face. He wanted to hit Xander. Smash that wrecked, pretty, horrified face. His fists trembled at his sides.

  Xander flinched as Seth stepped out into the hall.

  Seth pulled the door closed in Xander’s face.

  Not long after, he heard an ambulance. The sound of doors opening in the hallway and people talking. The noises finally made him move off the bed where he’d been sitting, motionless, and look out.

  Some students were standing around, talking, asking what had happened. John Anders from the opposite end of the hall squatted on the floor next to Stephens. Xander had his arms wrapped around Stephens, trying to keep him from beating his head into the wall.

  “What the hell happened?” Seth’s voice was too loud.

  Xander wouldn’t look at him. Nobody answered.

  Seth closed the door again. He sat on his bed, listening to the sounds gradually fade away. The sun flooded the room, strong and warm through the window.

  Xander didn’t come back.

  Around eight, Seth took a shower and made coffee. He shook out three aspirins for his hangover and swallowed them, then pulled out the books one last time. He left for his final a few minutes before noon. He tried to push everything else out of his head during the exam, focusing only on the next question and the next. He thought he did well. It should have made him happy, but he felt nothing.

  He stopped to get a drink at the water fountain in the hall afterward, closing his eyes and letting cold water trickle down his throat. Then he walked back to the dorm.

  The door was ajar. Xander bent over his suitcase on the bed, packing. He had on an old green T-shirt. The seam at his shoulder had unraveled, and Seth saw skin through the small hole.

  “I’ll be out of here in a few,” Xander said, not looking up. He picked up a battered acoustic guitar lying on the bed. He hadn’t played it at all whenever Seth was around—it’d sat in the corner. Xander strummed the strings idly, hair hanging over his face, glints of gold amongst the warm brown in the light.