One for Sorrow

by Louise Collins

  He came closer, panting, heaving, red-faced, sweat dripping from his hair.

  “Are you in pain?”

  His cheeks were stained pink, mud was smudged along his forehead, and a drop of sweat ran past his nose. His green eyes shone, even more noticeable when he was covered in mud, and filthy.

  “Chad?”

  He shook his head. His throat was too tight to speak.

  Romeo reached for him, and Chad pressed himself back into the chair, but there was no escaping. Romeo held his cheek, and the heat of his palm, the gentleness of the touch, made the erection Chad was trying to control, twitch. Blood was rushing two places, into Chad’s cock, and into his cheeks. He knew Romeo could feel the heat in his face, but he didn’t seem to understand what was happening.

  He frowned, and it only intensified when Chad didn’t speak. The mud on his brow made his concerned scrunch look more pronounced, more sincere. He was handsome, and when he looked like he cared, it made him look even better.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Chad couldn’t look at him, and instead looked down at his crotch, giving Romeo an answer without words. Romeo released Chad’s cheek, then pulled the blanket off Chad’s legs. He stared down for a few seconds in silence, then dropped the blanket, covering Chad’s shame.

  “Oh … I see.”

  Romeo lifted his gaze, grinning the wolfish smile Chad wanted to punch. The embarrassed heat in Chad’s cheeks turned to rage, at himself, and Romeo’s pleased expression.

  “Were you watching me out the window?” Romeo asked.

  “No. I was watching TV.”

  Romeo looked pointedly at the TV, then turned back to Chad with his eyebrow raised. “Talking sandwiches do it for you?”

  “Shut up.”

  Romeo licked his lips. “There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

  “I’m not embarrassed, I’m angry.”

  “At me? I haven’t done anything. I should be the one that’s annoyed.”

  “How did you work that out?”

  “You were perving on me outside. Getting all hot and bothered while I was unaware. There’s a name for people like you…”

  “I wasn’t watching you. This just—happened … you know … how it sometimes just happens.”

  “It must be a relief to know it can still happen, that you haven’t damaged your libido.”

  “This is nothing to do with my libido.”

  “So what do we do with it now?”

  Chad scrunched his face. “What do you mean? You go away, and I’ll wait for it to go down.”

  “Or—”

  “There’s no or.”

  “I take care of it.”

  “No,” Chad said, snapping his teeth together with the word.

  “Or you take care of it yourself, thinking of me.”

  “No.”

  “That’s self-inflicted torture. You’re aroused, and your body needs relief. You’ve felt nothing but pain for weeks. Why not indulge in a bit of pleasure?”

  “It wouldn’t be pleasurable; it would be wrong. I don’t want to enjoy something that’s wrong.”

  Romeo backed away. He sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at Chad. “It’s sex—actually, it’s not even sex, it’s a stroke, an orgasm, a release of tension. It will get worse; you’ll get more frustrated the longer you don’t indulge.”

  Chad jolted his leg, pressing his lips together to keep him from vocalizing his pain. Even though he didn’t make a sound, his expression had been enough, and Romeo’s mocking smile faded. That was how far he was willing to go to not be aroused by Romeo; he would hurt himself, damage himself.

  Romeo backed away, cupped his crotch, then gestured to the open door.

  “Well, I’m going to take care of mine in the shower. See you in thirty minutes.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Romeo closed in on Chad and went to grab him, but he pushed him away.

  “Come on, you need to get in the bed.”

  “No, I’ll sleep in this chair.”

  “It’s not good for your neck, and back.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Romeo sighed. “Do you need the toilet?”

  “No,” Chad hissed. It was a lie. He did, and his squirming seemed to confirm it for Romeo.

  “Come on,” he said, stretching his hand out to help Chad up.

  He batted it away. “I’ll do it myself.”

  “You can’t, you know you can’t. As much as you hate me for what happened earlier, you need my help.”

  Chad squeezed his temples, then wiped his hand down his face. His eyes prickled with frustration, no longer sexual, everything but. He nodded, and Romeo took hold of his arm, wrapping it around his neck. He helped Chad to his feet, and they trudged through the room. They kept a slow pace, stopping plenty of times for Chad to breathe.

  “The painkillers are in the bathroom.”

  “Good. I might take a whole one tonight, knock me out.”

  He’d rather face the dreams, than think over his erection for hours on end. At least the dreams weren’t real, and the memories were just that, memories. They could distract him from the messed-up present, where his broken body apparently lusted over a murderer.

  Romeo steadied Chad as he took a piss, and when Chad clutched the sink, Romeo bent down, then pulled Chad’s boxers back up his legs, careful of his injured one.

  “Do you enjoy this?” Chad asked.

  Romeo hummed. “Yes, I like helping men piss. It’s a hobby of mine.”

  Something close to a laugh bubbled free of Chad’s throat. It sounded twisted, odd, but a big smile bloomed on Romeo’s face

  “I meant … looking after someone—something. The magpie. Did you enjoy taking care of it?”

  Romeo looked away, contemplating, and then he met Chad’s eyes in the mirror. “I enjoyed seeing it change from hating me, to relying on me.”

  “No, I mean—feeding it, washing it, stroking it. Did you like looking after it?”

  “Yeah. It was rewarding.”

  “Why?”

  “It knew the real me, had seen the monster when I’d hidden it from everyone else, and still, it let me look after it. It knew, and it became attached to me.”

  “Its wing got better?”

  Romeo nodded.

  “You let it go?”

  He stopped nodding, and fixed Chad with a cold stare in the mirror. “No.”

  Chad frowned. “Then what did you do?”

  “I snapped its neck.”

  Chad’s breath caught in his chest, and a shot of adrenaline rushed to his heart.

  “Why?” he said, breathless.

  “Because I’m a monster.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. but I am what I am.”

  He filled a glass of water, popped a pill between Chad’s lips, then tipped water into his mouth. Chad swallowed the pill, then licked his lips.

  He’d tormented the bird, saved it, healed it back to full health, and then killed it. Chad didn’t understand. Romeo didn’t make any sense.

  Chad stared at his reflection. His facial hair was patchy, wiry. His eyes were red-rimmed and sunken in gray trenches, and the rest of his complexion was sickly pale. He compared his tattiness, his ugliness, to Romeo. Handsome, flawless skin, neatly trimmed beard. His hair had gotten longer, but he kept it swept back. It shone in the bathroom light, and he stood so close Chad could smell the shampoo he’d used.

  Romeo noticed Chad staring at his hair in the mirror.

  “I’ll help you wash yours tomorrow.” He whispered. “And if you want, I’ll help you shave, too. I know it bothers you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You pick at it, pluck the hairs out. That’s why you’ve got patches.”

  Chad frowned, and Romeo seemed to read his confusion.

  “I don’t think you even realize you’re doing it. You stare into space and pick at your beard. You don’t flinch, or
seemed bothered, but afterwards you stroke your jaw, and seem irritated when you find patches.”

  “I didn’t know I did that.”

  “I suspected you didn’t, but tomorrow, I’ll help you shave it off, and it won’t irritate you anymore,” Romeo said, lifting Chad’s arm over his head again. “But now, it’s time to sleep. It’s been a long day.”

  They hobbled back into the living room, and then Romeo lowered Chad to the mattress. He put a cushion under his damaged leg, then lifted the duvet up to Chad’s chin.

  Chad watched him tend to the fire, and he slipped under the duvet. They weren’t touching, and Chad was grateful. He was uncomfortable enough in bed with a serial killer. He didn’t want to share his body heat, even though he’d already shared his shower gel, clothes, and his bed.

  Romeo rolled to face him, and they ended up staring at each other. Chad thought about the poker by the fire, the cushion beneath his head. Two possible weapons to use against Romeo, but his thoughts dissolved when Romeo reached for his face. His heart sped up, his scalp tingled before Romeo had even touched him, and when he did, Chad let out a shaky sigh. He was torn between wanting Romeo’s touch, and wanting to break all the bones in his hand. Romeo laughed softly, stroking Chad’s face, making it feel heavy, and warm.

  “It’s all right, Chad.”

  “This is not all right.”

  “You like the feeling of me touching you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Of course there is.”

  Romeo snorted. “Sleep.”

  He closed his eyes, and let the pill and Romeo’s fingers do their job.

  ****

  Chad bounced his leg on the floor, staring at the door. The was a constant rasping, panting, and the sound, and the moist breath on the back of his hand, made him feel worse. He’d wanted to hide his nerves, be brave. Fortunately, no one noticed his inner turmoil, other than the one he was trying to hide it from.

  Toby stopped panting, whined and pressed his chin on Chad’s bouncing leg. Chad blinked back the sting in his eyes, then gazed down at him. Toby’s eyes connected with his, no longer the sweet puppy, or the youthful dog, but an old mutt. Chad looked at his speckled gray muzzle, his pale crusty nose, and his eyes, no longer big and bright, but discolored from cataracts. He wasn’t wearing a collar—his neck was too swollen—and Chad could no longer get it ‘round him.

  Chad stroked his ears, the only fur on him that stayed puppy soft. Toby licked his lips, then closed his eyes, happy with the attention Chad gave him.

  The door opened, and the vet stepped inside. Her lips were pressed in a sad smile, and she didn’t look at Toby, but straight at Chad.

  “It’s not good news.”

  Chad stiffened, and his tense thigh alerted Toby. He lifted his head, then nudged Chad’s arm with his dry nose. Chad quickly stroked him. It wasn’t about him. It was about Toby, keeping him calm, keeping him settled. The panting started again, but despite it, Toby still looked pleased at Chad fussing him.

  “It is lymphoma like I suspected. Cancer of the lymph nodes.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “In a younger dog, we could operate, but he’s fourteen. The anesthetic is too much of a risk with his age.”

  “So we can’t operate.”

  “I would strongly advise against it.”

  “Then what can we do?”

  Toby’s ears pricked up at Chad’s sharp tone. Chad sagged forward and released a sigh.

  “I’m sorry,” he said glancing at the vet.

  “I’m gonna prescribe some steroids.”

  “Will they fix him? Will they make him better?”

  Chad could hear the hope in his own voice, the pure desperation. The vet looked down at her notes. Chad suspected she was uncomfortable looking at him like that and didn’t want to make eye contact as she shattered his heart.

  “No, it will make him feel better, help his breathing, but the cancer will still grow, and one day he’ll start panting again. He’ll struggle to breathe, and there won’t be anything else we can do. You’ll know when it gets to that.”

  “How will I know?”

  She pressed her lips in another grim smile, and when her blue eyes met Chad’s, he understood. He’d know when the day came.

  He’d know.

  Leaving the vet’s was a blur. He picked up Toby’s prescription, thanked the receptionist, then went outside to the parking lot. He lifted Toby into the car, petted his head, then got into the driver’s seat. The drive back to his apartment was hazy, uneventful; so was getting Toby out of the car, and carrying up the two flights of steps.

  Chad got him a bone from the cupboard, gave it to him, then left the room.

  “I left something in the car.”

  He didn’t know why he said it, Toby didn’t understand him, but it felt better to say some excuse for leaving him, even if it was an awful one. He couldn’t cry in front of Toby. He’d get distressed, try to please him, comfort him, and Chad knew he’d feel ten times worse.

  He got back in the car and completely broke down. He shook, he cried, and his chest felt as if it was being crushed from all sides. The sounds he tried to muffle weren’t human. They were raw animal, whimpers, and whines.

  He had no idea how long he stayed in the car, but eventually he couldn’t cry anymore. His cheeks felt swollen, his eyes were sore, and he felt a numbness in the rest of his body. He climbed out the car, plodded up the two sets of stairs, then opened his front door.

  Toby was waiting for him, the bone Chad had given him still in his mouth, and his tail swishing happily on the floor.

  Chad broke down all over again.

  “Hey, hey, hey…”

  He wasn’t on his knees inside his old apartment. His face wasn’t being licked by Toby as he cried.

  A hand was on his face, desperately pawing away his tears. Reality came back to him, and he jolted, irritating his leg. He hissed, panted, then whimpered at the pain. His whimper morphed into something angry, twisted, a fierce growl as he struggled to get out of the bed, out of the house, out of his mind if he could escape it.

  Romeo rolled on top of him, pinning him to the mattress. Chad fought him, tried to buck him off, headbutt him, but Romeo managed to avoid him. Chad’s anger turned back into despair, and he whimpered into Romeo’s chest as he sank down on top of him. He released Chad’s wrists from above his head but kept over him. His muscular upper chest was the perfect place for Chad to press his face, and sob into.

  Chad clutched Romeo’s back and dug his nails in ‘til his fingers shook. Romeo’s heartbeat drummed a steady rhythm against Chad’s forehead, and he soon calmed down listening, and feeling, the heart of the monster.

  “You with me?” Romeo asked.

  Chad snuffled, still firmly glued to Romeo’s chest. “Yeah, I’m with you.”

  “I’m gonna get off you now. Don’t—don’t damage yourself.”

  “Damage? I’m already broken. You’ve broken me.”

  “You were broken long before you met me. I’ve simply given you a small push, and you’ve shattered completely.”

  Romeo rolled off of Chad, but instead of taking the space beside the fire, he moved to the opposite side, and propped his head up with his hand. The fire shone in his eyes, and the flicking flames cast dark shadows on his features.

  “I’ve heard you cry over your mother, and fiancé … but that … that was something else. That was … raw emotion. What were you dreaming about?”

  “I don’t wanna tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you wouldn’t understand, no one understands.”

  Romeo’s eyebrows met in the middle. “How do you know?”

  “You said you’ve never loved anything.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Then how can you possibly understand?”

  Romeo looked into the fire. “I want to. I want to understand. I want to know what can made you roar like that and sink your nails into my flesh.”


  Chad couldn’t look Romeo in the eye, so instead he spoke to his chin. “I was dreaming about—about my dog, Toby.”

  “A dog?”

  Chad hated the confusion in Romeo’s tone. He lifted his gaze and glared at Romeo. “Yes, a fucking dog.”

  “I’m not judging you, Chad. Tell me about Toby.”

  “He got cancer. I had him euthanized, so yeah, I guess I have killed. I’m a murderer, too—”

  “That’s not what I meant. Tell me about him, not about the end.”

  Chad swallowed hard. “You wanna know about Toby?”

  “Yes, why is that difficult to understand?”

  “No one asks about Toby, or they ask, and I tell them I had a dog as a kid, and he was my best friend, and that’s as far as the conversation goes.”

  “I want to go further. Tell me about him.”

  Chad licked his lips, then started telling the story of the only loving relationship he’d ever had, him and Toby against the world.

  “One of my mother’s regulars had a dog, and she had puppies. I must’ve been seven. My mum let me keep one, the only present she ever got me, but the best thing she could’ve done for me. I wasn’t alone in my depressing life anymore. Unconditional love. I loved him, and he loved me. He was the only bit of happiness I had.”

  Romeo smiled. It looked sinister in the flickering light, but Chad was convinced it wasn’t meant to be. He lifted his chin, gesturing Chad to continue.

  “I had friends, but if they had found out about what my mother did, how bad my life was when I went home … I would’ve lost them, but not Toby. He saw, he heard, he smelled what went on in that apartment, and it didn’t make him love me any less. He didn’t look at me in disgust, only with bright eyes, and his tail wagging.”

  Chad pawed at the tears on his cheek and went on. “One time, my mother was passed out on the sofa, and her … customer, wasn’t satisfied. He’d always looked at me funny when he came to the apartment, this glint in his eye. I didn’t know what it meant until that night when he came up to my room.”

  “What happened?”