Anterograde (20 page)

November 15
^th

It
was past three in the morning when they climbed out of the car. Eli unlocked
the front door and held it open, then closed it behind Calden. As Eli followed Calden
inside, he did a quick bout of mental arithmetic. It had been at least fifteen
hours since Calden had had something to eat, and even then it’d only been a few
bites of a sandwich to appease Eli. He needed food and sleep, although Eli
wasn’t sure in which order. It depended on one thing, really.

“Do
you still see her?” he asked as they entered the hallway together.

Calden
turned to him, his hands frozen halfway through untying his scarf.

“See
her?” he repeated, an eyebrow raised.

Eli
winced. He could only blame his tiredness for the slip.

“Them.
The hallucinations. Do you still see them?”

Calden
finished taking off his coat and scarf, though his gaze didn’t lift from Eli.

“No.
Not since I figured out what was wrong with our patient. Adrenaline chased them
away, I think.”

Eli
nodded absently. Whether it was adrenaline or something else, it had happened
before that a successful outcome had given Calden a few more lucid hours.

“All
right. Good. You should eat something before bed. Okay?”

When
Calden agreed, Eli walked into the kitchen. While he warmed up a plate of
leftovers, Calden settled on the sofa with his diary and scribbled feverishly. Eli
watched him from the kitchen, knowing he was writing about today’s patients...
or was he? As tempting as sneaking a peek was, Eli had never done it, nor did
he plan to. After all, he had given Calden his word.

The
microwave pinged behind him. He brought the plate to Calden, who pulled the
coffee table closer to the sofa so he could continue writing with his right
hand while eating absently with the left. The first time Eli had seen him do
this, he’d been surprised, though in retrospect he should have known that Calden
would have taught himself to use both hands interchangeably. If nothing else, Calden
would have seen it as a challenge.

Sitting
in his armchair, Eli thought to himself, not for the first time, that as
devastating as Calden’s condition was, few people would have been better
equipped to deal with it than Calden. For him, it was only another challenge,
and all things considered he wasn’t doing badly so far. Eli was glad he was
able to help a little, but some days he wondered whether Calden wouldn’t have
found a way to thrive on his own, too. He was certainly stubborn enough. Still,
that was something they’d never know.

Calden
was apparently done with his diary. Setting it aside, he picked up the plate
and switched the fork to his right hand. He sat back as he ate and observed Eli,
who smiled instinctively.

“You
know what form my hallucinations take,” Calden said after a few mouthfuls.

Eli’s
smile melted away. “I know some forms they’ve taken in the past,” he said
slowly, weighing each word. This was a topic he could do without talking about.
“Are you finished? It’s past time you got some sleep.”

Calden,
unsurprisingly, ignored the mention of sleep.

“Forms?”
he said sharply. “Plural? You know for a fact that there have been several
incarnations?”

“No,”
Eli admitted with a quiet sigh. “The ones I was able to guess were always the
same person.”

For
a few seconds, Calden considered him intently, as though he could read the
answer on Eli’s face—not a new feeling, but never pleasant. In the end, he said
one word.

“Riley.”

Eli
grimaced. “Yes. So it was her again today?”

Calden’s
brow tightened into a slight frown. “Yes. I was wondering if it was always her.
Caroline didn’t know, but I’d hardly confide in her anyway. Do you know…”

When
he didn’t finish the question, Eli tried to take a guess. “Do I know what? What
she says to you?” At Calden’s slight nod, he continued. “I know she tells you it’s
your fault she died. And that I’m going to leave. I hope you know neither thing
is true.”

Pushing
himself out of his armchair, Eli came over to the sofa. With one hand, he took
the plate Calden hadn’t touched in a little while. With the other, he brushed Calden’s
hair off his forehead. Calden tilted his head up into the soft touch, looking
up at Eli.

“Do
you know that?” he asked softly.

Calden
licked his lips before answering. “I do. That doesn’t mean I have any control
over what my subconscious throws at me.”

“No,
I suppose not. And your subconscious does seem to be just as stubborn as the
rest of you.”

“I’m
not stubborn,” Calden protested.

Eli
snorted. “Prove it. Go to bed without arguing like a five year old.”

A
small gleam lit Calden’s eyes. Eli knew it quite well. It usually accompanied
words like ‘I’m not tired.’ Maybe because of the challenge Eli had just issued,
Calden did not voice the blatant lie and said instead, “I need a shower.”

“A
quick one,” Eli admonished. “And then you need sleep.”

He
offered his free hand to Calden and helped him up. Calden didn’t let go right
away. Standing very close to Eli, he observed him through eyes darkened by wide
pupils.

“When
I woke up,” he said very quietly, “I was alone. But we usually share a bed now,
don’t we?”

Eli
would never tire of the way Calden blushed, delicate pink suffusing his pale
face.

“We
do,” Eli confirmed with a smile. “Or at least, when you sleep during regular
sleeping hours. I’m not much for napping in the middle of the day, even if it
means depriving you of a source of heat to latch on to.”

“So
you’ll sleep in my bed tonight?”

Eli
nodded.

“What
about more than sleeping?” Calden asked, his voice a low, deep rumbling.

He
couldn’t possibly be aware of what that voice always did to Eli, how it shot
through him, intoxicating and arousing. Aware or not, however, he used that
voice like a well-crafted weapon and hit dead center every time.

“You
need sleep,” Eli repeated hoarsely.

Calden’s
only reply was a small smile before he finally stepped away toward the
bathroom. Eli watched him go, unable to completely stifle a groan. He knew that
smile. That was Calden’s patented ‘I will get what I want simply because I
always get what I want’ smile.

And
how could he not get what he wanted, really, when Eli wanted it too?

The
past three days had been all about the hospital, and Eli had no problem with
that. It was part of who Calden was, part of what made him
Calden
—and
part of what made his life worth living now that it had been altered forever.
It was no hardship for Eli to step back and watch him work, and he’d done so
without a second thought. But the dynamic had switched in the car as Eli drove
them home and again just a moment ago.

“He
needs sleep,” Eli muttered to himself as he took Calden’s plate to the kitchen
then made his way to the bedroom. “For that matter,
I
need sleep. It’s
not like there’s any rush. We’ll both still be there tomorrow.”

But
tomorrow would start again with Calden rediscovering his condition and
everything that came with it, and while the process had become much smoother, Calden
would need a bit of time to adjust. For that matter, if he didn’t sleep enough—something
that happened too often—Eli would send him back to bed sooner rather than
later. Would it be so bad, really, to have a few more minutes with a Calden who
was aware of everything?

Eli’s
subconscious must have come to a conclusion before he did, because it occurred
to him as he climbed into bed and drew the covers over him that he had stripped
down completely rather than putting on the old t-shirt and boxers he usually
wore at night.

Before
he had time to change his mind or even berate himself for it, Calden came in
from the bathroom, a towel around his waist. Even in the faint light from the
night lamp, his skin had a rosy hue from the hot water of his shower. He seemed
oddly hesitant, standing by the side of the bed, watching Eli, and for a second
Eli was about to ask him if something was wrong. And then he realized—How could
he have forgotten, really? Was he that tired?—that this was, again, all new for
Calden. He didn’t remember ever climbing into bed with Eli or being nude in front
of him or anything else.

With
a soft smile, Eli folded back the covers, inviting Calden into bed with a
quiet, “Get in before you get cold.”

Calden
dropped the towel only a fraction of a second before sliding into bed,
preserving his modesty. Eli couldn’t help laughing quietly.

“I’ve
seen it all before, you know.”

“I
realize that.” Calden rolled onto his side, mirroring Eli though remaining far
enough away that they weren’t in any danger of touching. “And it doesn’t help.
If anything, I feel like I need to catch up.”

His
face was slowly turning crimson.

Laughing
quietly, Eli shifted closer to him.

“You
don’t have to catch up,” he said, reaching up to lay a gentle hand against Calden’s
cheek, “You don’t have to do anything. Actually it’d probably be better if you
went to sleep before we end up with an audience.”

Eli
really wished he could have sounded more forceful, but it was rather difficult
to convince both himself and Calden at the same time, especially when his
thumb, stroking Calden’s cheek, encountered silky smooth skin. Calden usually
shaved in the morning, but he’d shaved the trace of facial hair that had been
darkening his cheeks. He’d shaved for Eli.

“Is
that something that has happened?” Calden asked very quietly. The back of his
fingers brushed against Eli’s wrist before following his arm back to his
shoulder. “An audience, I mean.”

“Not
that I know of, but would you tell me if she was standing there and critiquing
my technique?”

Just
as he said the last word, Calden’s fingers found his scar. They always did,
sooner or later. Eli had quickly learned it was useless to try to hide it. As
scornful as Calden could be of sentimentality, as difficult as it still was for
him to say the words, he was as single-minded when it came to knowing every
little bit of Eli as he was with a three-organ transplant.

“She
could be standing there,” Calden murmured, shifting closer to Eli and pulling
the covers down to expose his shoulder completely, “and singing Amazing Grace at
the top of her lungs, and I might not notice right now.”

That
was easy to believe when his entire focus had turned to the pale, raised skin
under his fingertips. He traced every millimeter of it, his fingers circling
all the way around Eli’s arm. Eli allowed him that bit of exploration without
protest, but after a few more seconds, Calden froze and sought his gaze.

“Is
this… okay?” he asked diffidently.

“I
don’t mind.”

He
meant it. He used to mind, until Calden had explained his fascination with the
scar, describing it as the proof that he was capable of doing good work on
people he cared about while he’d always tried so hard to distance himself from
his patients. Seen in that light, it didn’t seem quite so ugly anymore.

“Although,”
he added, teasing, “I am a little disappointed.”

Calden
pulled his hand off Eli as though burned.

“Disappointed,”
Eli continued, “that you consistently reach for the part of me that can’t
really feel much at all when there are other bits that would respond to your
touch in much more interesting ways.”

In
the near darkness, Eli could see Calden’s expression relax a little.

“Well,
you
’re hardly touching any of
my
… bits.”

It
was the invitation Eli had been waiting for. His hand, which had fallen from Calden’s
face to allow him to look at Eli’s shoulder better, returned, then slid to the
back of his neck to pull gently until his mouth met Eli’s. At the same time, Eli
erased the distance between them, throwing a leg over Calden’s so that their
bodies were flush against each other, their hardening pricks trapped together
between them.

Every
first kiss so far had been different, and this one was no exception. Calden
responded at once, pressing back against Eli and parting his lips when Eli’s
tongue requested entrance, but he was unusually subdued, following Eli’s lead
rather than taking the initiative, almost passive when Eli arched against him
so that their cocks slid against each other. And while Eli didn’t mind being at
the wheel—he didn’t mind at all, actually—he thought he knew what was going on
here.

Pulling
back, Eli pressed his forehead to Calden’s.

“You,”
he said with a long-suffering sigh, “are exhausted. And too stubborn to admit
it when it’s taking all you have just to remain awake.”

Calden’s
slow blink was an answer in itself, even when he gave a weak protest. “I am not.
What I am is aroused and very eager for you to do something about it.”