Unquiet (4 page)

“The last time it happened, I told my dad that, that I needed help,” Eliot admitted. “He took me to see a pediatric shrink friend of his, and the guy said it was a mild case of depression and gave me Prozac.”

“Do they help?”

Eliot looked down at his hands. “I don’t like taking them because they make me feel really, really weird. Like scary weird.”

“Your mom said maybe it’s just an adjustment period. Maybe you need to take them for a certain amount of time before you feel better.” Loren leaned over and gripped Eliot’s hands in his, waiting until he lifted his head and looked him full in the face before he continued, “Please, El. Take them. For me. I can’t see you like you were these past few days. It scared the ever-loving shit out of me. Please.”

Eliot searched Loren’s eyes with his, the vivid green sincere, almost calm. “I will,” he said. “I’ll do anything for you, Loren.”

Loren felt a rush of emotion surge through him, emotion so strong that he didn’t think, he just wrapped his arms around Eliot and clutched him tight. “I can’t lose you, El.”

Eliot hugged him back, and they sat there on the edge of bed like that for a long time until Eliot pushed Loren away and stood up.

“Gotta get started on this shit,” he muttered, waving his hand at the pile of homework, grimacing.

Loren stood up too, fighting the urge to keep Eliot close, to roll him up in Bubble Wrap and keep him safe from everything, even from the demons that existed only in Eliot’s mind.

Before he left, Loren turned to him and asked the question that he all of a sudden desperately needed an answer to. “You’ve never—you’ve never tried, have you? To kill yourself?”

Eliot turned to look at him, his eyes glinting with lingering sadness. “I would have yesterday, Loren, but I just didn’t have the energy.”

“WANT SOME
company?”

Loren looked up to see Eliot standing over him, a bottle of vodka clutched loosely in his fingers. His tux jacket was missing, the shirt pulled loose from his pants and half-unbuttoned, revealing his smooth, hairless chest.

Loren shrugged. “Sure.”

Eliot sank to the rough wood of the dock and extended the vodka bottle to Loren. After a moment’s hesitation, Loren took it and chugged a mouthful, choking on the burn.

“Shit, El, how can you drink so much of this stuff?” Loren wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and spit over the side of the dock into the lake before handing the bottle to Eliot.

“It’s the drink of the gods, man,” Eliot replied, taking a huge swallow himself.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the water lapping against the pylons.

“So,” Eliot said, “you and Mandy broke up? She’s in there crying on her girlfriend’s shoulder.”

“Yeah,” Loren replied with a soft, bitter snort. “Dumped at the prom, such a fuckin’ cliché.”

Eliot’s smile was rueful. “Prom night is a bust for both of us, then. Brandon is passed out on the bathroom floor after puking his guts out everywhere. His parents are gonna kick his ass. This place is getting trashed.”

Loren looked out at the dark lake, the sparkling lights of the nearby houses reflecting off the dancing water, and huffed out a heavy sigh.

“You okay? You loved her, Loren?” Eliot seemed sincerely interested, his face sympathetic.

Loren shrugged. “She’s smart and funny, kind. But—”

Eliot waited patiently, drinking his vodka, and at last Loren fell to his back on the rough wood of the dock and sprawled there, looking up at the starry sky.

“The sex was—I mean, I tried to get into it, but I could tell she was always disappointed afterward. And I’m pretty sure I know why.”

Eliot abandoned his vodka and lay down on his side facing Loren, propping himself up on his elbow. His blue-blond hair was a halo around his face in the moonlight, his green eyes vivid.

“Why, Loren?” Eliot whispered. “’Cause you’re gay?”

Loren closed his eyes, then nodded. “I’m gay, El. I—I wasn’t sure for a while, thought maybe I was wrong.” He swallowed hard. “I do love Mandy; she’s a great girl. I liked being with her, and she was never just some sort of—some sort of experiment. It’s killing me that I’ve hurt her.”

Eliot reached out and brushed a tear away from Loren’s cheek with his thumb, his touch gentle. “You cared about her, Loren. She always talks about how good you were to her.”

“I tried to be what she needed, El, but I wasn’t into her like that. She deserves so much more.” Loren heaved another ragged sigh. “I’m just glad she had the balls to end it tonight, because I was dreading having to do it.”

Eliot didn’t say anything, and Loren opened his eyes and looked at him. “You and Brandon are—are
you
gay, El?”

Eliot shrugged. “I like fucking. Sometimes I get—I don’t know, like I can’t get enough and I don’t care who I get it from.”

“Like a nympho?” Loren said, half-joking, and Eliot smirked.

“Maybe.”

Loren looked up at him, tracing his eyes over Eliot’s face, his full lips. “You and Brandon doing it, El?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it like?” Loren whispered. “I’ve never—I’ve never—”

His words broke off as Eliot leaned down and kissed him softly, gently. Their lips clung together for a moment, the hot sweet vodka taste of Eliot’s mouth making Loren’s stomach tighten.

“I can show you whatever you want to know about sex, Loren,” Eliot breathed, stroking his tongue once over Loren’s bottom lip. “But I—it won’t just be fucking, not with you. Never with you.”

He pulled away and sat up, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. After a moment Loren pushed himself to sitting too, and put his arm around Eliot’s shoulders. Eliot relaxed against him with a sigh.

“Things feel so fucked up sometimes,” Eliot said, his words so quiet Loren almost couldn’t hear them. “I can’t have anything fucked up with you. I need you, Loren.”

The aching tenderness Loren felt made his eyes sting and he blinked the tears away. “You’ll always have me, El,” he rasped. “Always.”

They sat there, unmoving, Loren just holding him until all of a sudden someone up at the house cranked up a popular ballad, probably at Mandy’s request. It was her favorite. Loren gave a soft snort.

“I love this song,” he whispered. “And now it will always make me think of Mandy.” He started in surprise when Eliot pulled away and stood, extending his hand down for Loren and helping him to his feet before moving into his arms. Loren closed his eyes and gathered him close, the movement as natural as breathing.

They swayed together in a slow dance, Eliot nestled against his chest. Loren buried his nose in Eliot’s hair, sensing how fragile he was, not in substance but in spirit. A wave of fear jolted through him.

“Don’t leave me, El,” he whispered involuntarily, tightening his arms. “Please don’t ever leave me.”

Eliot sighed, his face buried in the curve of Loren’s neck and shoulder, not speaking. All too soon the song ended, and Eliot moved away, bringing his hand up to cup Loren’s cheek and stroke it with gentle fingers. They gazed into each other’s eyes until a burst of raucous laughter from the party broke the spell.

Eliot let go of Loren with seeming reluctance, trailing his fingers down Loren’s arm and squeezing his hand before starting to walk backward along the dock toward the house.

“Now whenever you hear this song,” Eliot murmured, “maybe you’ll think of me.”

He blew Loren a kiss, turned, and walked away.

SEVERAL DAYS
later Loren woke with a jolt, sitting up and looking wildly around the darkened room. What had—a muffled noise from the bathroom reached his ears, and he got out of bed and stumbled in that direction, cursing as he stubbed his toe on something in the middle of the floor.

His shower was running, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see clothes he recognized as Eliot’s crumpled up in the doorway; he’d stubbed his toe on one of Eliot’s Doc Martens.

“El?” he called out. “It’s 1:00 a.m., man, and you’re showering in the fucking dark. What’s going on?”

There was no response, and Loren stepped closer, twitching the plastic curtain back just a little so he could lean in.

“Eliot? You okay?”

“I’ll be right out, Loren.” Eliot’s voice sounded strange, not like his own, and Loren felt a frisson of alarm.

“El, what’s wrong?” He peered in the shower just enough to see that Eliot had his palms braced against the wet tile, letting the spray beat down on his neck and shoulders. Eliot shook his head.

“I’ll be out in a minute, Loren,” he said again, that weird hoarseness still in his voice. Loren looked him over as best he could in the dark, not noticing anything amiss, his relief replaced by a jolt of arousal as he took in Eliot’s sleek, wet body. Loren swallowed hard at the sight of high, round buttocks and the lithe muscles of Eliot’s back.

Shit.

Loren backed away, ashamed of himself for staring, for getting hard at the sight of Eliot’s nakedness when it was apparent something was wrong. He retreated back to his bed to wait, taking deep breaths, willing his body to calm down.

It was a long time before the shower shut off and Eliot emerged from the steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped around his hips. He rummaged in “his” drawer in Loren’s dresser, taking out a pair of underwear and slipping them on before letting his towel drop.

Then he stood uncertainly in the middle of the room until Loren whispered, “Come here, El.”

With what sounded like a little sob, Eliot ran to the bed and climbed in next to Loren, clutching onto him when Loren pulled him close.

“What is it?” Loren asked in renewed alarm, running his hand up and down Eliot’s back. “What happened?”

He felt Eliot shake his head against his shoulder, his face buried in the curve of Loren’s neck. “Just a—just a situation that got a little out of control,” he rasped. “I’ll be okay. I just—I just needed—”

He seemed to be in so much distress that Loren shushed him. “Okay, El, okay. We’ll talk in the morning. Just sleep now. Just sleep, baby.” He flinched, not knowing where the endearment came from, but Eliot just sighed and kissed his cheek before falling into unconsciousness.

Loren slept too, and he awoke a couple of hours later to lips nuzzling his jaw, spreading little kisses from his chin up to his ear and back again.

“El?” he whispered sleepily, tightening his arm around him.

“Mmmm,” Eliot hummed, mouthing Loren’s earlobe before taking it between his teeth with a light tug. He kissed his way back down Loren’s jaw, and this time Loren turned his head so that their lips met.

Eliot chuckled, and he brushed his mouth back and forth across Loren’s, teasing him until Loren groaned deep in his chest and cupped the back of Eliot’s head, growling, “More.”

Eliot rolled so he was flush on top of Loren, and Loren settled his hands on Eliot’s hips. He could feel the ridge of Eliot’s cock digging into his upper abdomen, and Loren restlessly rolled his own hips, seeking friction for his aching erection.

Eliot took Loren’s chin in his hand and stroked his thumb back and forth across Loren’s parted lips. Loren chased it with his tongue, and Eliot laughed a deep, sensual laugh before leaning down and replacing his thumb with his hot mouth. Loren lay still and let him direct the kiss, closing his eyes, sliding his hands from Eliot’s hips to fill his palms with the firm globes of his ass. He squeezed and plumped them as Eliot kissed him slowly, deeply, licking into Loren’s mouth.

The pleasure was overwhelming. It spread from deep inside him, all-consuming, curling his toes, arching his back. His senses were full of Eliot, the feel of his half-naked body on top of his, the sound of Eliot’s rough breathing, his own little moans.

Loren tore his mouth free and gasped out, “Jesus, El.”

Eliot pressed his forehead to Loren’s until they both got some control back, and then Loren cupped Eliot’s cheek in his hand, stroking along the high cheekbone, sliding his hand down to lightly encircle Eliot’s throat. He pushed Eliot’s head back and was leaning up intending to kiss his neck when Eliot gave a sharp gasp, a sound of pain, not pleasure.

Loren let go of him in alarm, reaching over to switch on the nightstand lamp and then freezing in utter horror at what it illuminated.

Eliot’s neck was ringed by livid bruises, the finger marks unmistakable, the delicate skin of his entire throat mottled.

“What the
fuck
?!” Loren pushed Eliot off of him and exploded off the bed. “Who did this to you, Eliot? Who did this?”

He scrambled for some clothes, anything, yanking a T-shirt over his head, his whole body trembling with rage. A red haze descended before his eyes, and he barely felt Eliot scrabbling at his arm while Loren searched for some pants.

“Tell me who did this, El,” he growled, not even recognizing his own voice, it was so guttural with anger and emotion.

He didn’t wait for an answer, pulling on a pair of yesterday’s sweatpants and trying to cram his feet into some beat-up sneakers as he strode to the bedroom doorway. Suddenly Eliot encircled his waist from behind and held on, digging his feet into the carpet and trying to hold Loren back.

“Let go, El!” Loren shouted. “Tell me where to find these motherfuckers who did this to you! I’ll kill them!”

Eliot held on tighter, and Loren twisted and fought to get away, mindless with the need to crush faces, bones under his hands, fuck up the pieces of shit who would dare hurt someone he loved.

“Loren, you’re scaring me!” Eliot’s anguished cry penetrated the haze in Loren’s brain, and he froze in horror, turning around, watching as Eliot backed away from him, his hands up.

“Oh God,” Loren choked. “Baby, please. Don’t ever be afraid of me. Don’t ever—” He reached for Eliot pleadingly, almost sobbing his relief when Eliot threw himself into his arms without hesitation.

“I’m not afraid of you, Loren,” Eliot croaked, wrapping himself around him. “I’m afraid
for
you. These guys are—they’re big, and mean. I was stupid. I—”

“Did they hurt you? Like—like that?” Loren felt the anger strangle him again, and his words came out high-pitched and shaky.