lifeonsarz

[lifeonsarz]

With a Little Help

Spenedict fanfic - warning for smut towards the end. Chapter markings are because I posted it on instagram! Let me know if you like it!

*1* Robbie, I’m sorry to do this to you by letter. In many ways, I’m sorry to do this to you at all, but I have to & I know I’d only back out if I was saying this to your face. It’s over. I’m sorry. I just don’t love you like a wife should love a husband anymore and we’re both too young to be trapped in a platonic marriage. So I’m leaving. Or, by the time you read this, I’ve left. I suppose the formalities will have to be taken care of, but … Please just try to be happy, Robbie. Try to move on. You deserve that. M x Rob stared at the letter, turned it over, looking for some hint that it was all a joke. Nothing came. Bile rising in his throat, he got shakily to his feet and mounted the stairs, hoping to find Marnie’s clothes still in the wardrobe, her clutter still littering the shelves of the bathroom. Again, he was disappointed; everything was gone and the house echoed with his loneliness. Trembling, he stumbled to the toilet, hunching over it as he vomited and retched. This couldn’t be happening. After everything they’d been through together, this couldn’t happen now. The tears he’d been holding back finally flowed as he curled up on the cold tiles and wept. *2* Rich frowned deeply, his blond locks flopping into his eyes as he looked at his phone for what seemed like the hundredth time. Why the hell wasn’t Rob replying? They were supposed to be doing drinks tonight to commiserate (or maybe, deep down, celebrate) Rich’s decree absolute. She hadn’t exactly been the love of his life (Rich kept the reason for that close to his chest), but she had once been his best shot at happiness. And now, she was history. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t a little sad about it all, but the planned evening out with Rob had lifted his spirits. Until now, an hour after they were supposed to meet, with no sign of him. Rich had been angry at first, then disappointed, let down. Now, he was worried. Rob was many things, including forgetful, but he wouldn’t not answer his phone unless something was very wrong. Rich tried calling one last time, frowning even deeper as he got Rob’s slightly confused-sounding voicemail. Draining his beer, Rich stormed from the bar and hailed a cab. *3* Rob didn’t know how long he had been curled up on the floor. The light had faded at some point, the bathroom now lit only by the faint glow of streetlights through the obscured glass. His tears had dried up hours ago, his body now wracked with dry, empty sobs. His heart pounded in his ears, blocking out any other sound. He had no idea if he was hungry, thirsty, hot, or cold. All he knew was that the chasm opening up inside his chest was getting deeper every second; he could feel himself falling so far into it that he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to crawl out. He wasn’t even sure that he would ever want to. *4* Rich hammered on the front door, yelled through the letterbox, then – when he could feel the twitching of blinds and curtains all around him – opted to sneak around the back, hoping that the neighbours wouldn’t call the cops, because he really didn’t have the energy to explain right now. Fumbling around in his pockets, he pulled out an assortment of bits & pieces, praying that he’d remember how to use one of these to pick the damn lock; it’d been a long time since he’d needed to break into a house. Keeping your keys permanently on a chain attached to your belt loop has its benefits, but right now, he really wished that he was in practice. It took a while – longer than he had hoped – and his head shot up like a meerkat every time a siren blared in the distance or a car door slammed on the street. But ultimately, he breathed a sigh of relief as the last lever fell into place and the door clicked open. *5* Stealing a quick look over each shoulder, Rich stepped through the door, waiting for it to be completely closed behind him before calling softly into the darkness. “Rob? Robbie, mate? You here?” He pulled his phone out and called again, hearing the faint buzzing from the living room. His heart stopped. He could feel a warm fizz across his neck and shoulders as the adrenaline pumped through his system. He approached the door with trepidation; part of him desperate to know, part terrified of what he might find. It was only when he walked right into the centre of the room and hadn’t found his friend unconscious (or worse) that he realised he’d been holding his breath. Ever since Rob’s stroke, he’d always had this fear at the back of his mind that it could happen again – could be worse next time – and no one might be there to save him. Exhaling sharply, he turned to search the rest of the house, when a sheet of paper next to the coffee table caught his eye. *6* Feeling almost like he was peeking at someone’s diary, Rich stooped to retrieve the paper. Two words stood out like a neon sign: ‘It’s over.’ The room wavered slightly in Rich’s vision. He knew only too well what this would do to Rob; he’d been broken up enough after his own relationship crumbled, but Rob had truly considered Marnie to be his soulmate. They had been together since college, when Rob had been a self-confessed fool over her and had the shock of his life when she felt the same. They hadn’t been able to spend as much time together lately, what with work interfering, but Rob still looked forward to spending time with her like they were lovesick teens. Rich caught his breath and rested the letter on the table next to Rob’s phone; the screen still displaying the series of missed calls and messages. Steeling himself for the worst, he walked sadly towards the stairs. *7* The hands on Rob’s shoulders were warm, strong. He might ordinarily have been shocked at the sudden breach of his stasis, but he was numb to the core. It took time for him to focus on Rich’s furrowed brow, concern evident in his deep amber eyes. His mouth was moving, but Rob couldn’t make out what he was saying. His eyes wanted to close against the harsh fluorescent light, but somehow, even that small movement felt like an effort he wasn’t prepared to make. Rich tried talking louder, tried lifting Rob’s face up so that he could see him speaking, but when nothing seemed to penetrate – and with no other ideas – he pulled Rob into an awkward, tight embrace. “I’m so sorry, Rob. I don’t know what I can say or do, but I’m here for you.” He cleared his throat, the words becoming thick with emotions that he knew could not be shown. Not here; not now. “That’s what friends are for,” he added. *8* Rob finally began to break out of his shell as Rich held him. The uncontrollable shaking returned and he realised that he was chilled to the bone. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t form words; he was too cold, too dry. Rich patted his back gently and whispered “It’s okay, Rob. I’ve got you. Just let me look after you, okay?” Rob nodded weakly and allowed Rich to carry him – albeit with a little struggle on Rich’s part – into the bedroom. Rich kicked back the duvet, laid Rob down, and cocooned him in covers and blankets. Squeezing Rob’s shoulder gently, Rich said “I’m going to make you a hot drink, okay? You gonna be alright if I pop downstairs?” Rob managed another feeble nod and a faint smile, and Rich left the room. Standing in the kitchen, kettle boiling, Rich gripped the worktop, closed his eyes and bit his lip hard, but that didn’t stop his tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. *9* Rob had almost thawed when Rich returned, a weak smile on his face that Rob wasn’t fooled by, even before he saw the faint redness around his eyes. He wanted to ask if he was okay, but he still couldn’t force his voice to come out. He gratefully took the steaming mug of tea from Rich, sipping it slowly, savouring the warmth and hydration. It was strange; it almost felt like it had all been a dream, Marnie’s note, the horror that came before. It felt like he might open the wardrobe and all her things would still be there. Like his life hadn’t really fallen apart at all. Except it had. He didn’t notice that he was crying again until Rich balanced awkwardly on the bed next to him and put his arm around Rob’s shoulders. “’m s-sorry,” Rob stuttered. “S-so s-sorry. I can’t … I … she …” His eyes closed and he leaned into Rich’s chest, seeking more comfort than he felt that he had a right to ask. *10* Rich just smiled sadly and held him, easing the empty mug from his fingers and setting it aside. As time passed, Rob’s head felt heavy on his chest, his breathing regulated into deep sighs. Rich continued to hold his friend, trying to quell the conflict in his mind. Surely this was what he had dreamed of – Rob falling asleep in his arms? But not like this, he angrily chastised himself for the thought. Not if what it took was for Rob’s life to be crashing down around him. Thoughts racing, Rich too fell into a fitful sleep; dreams of fear and rejection plagued him regularly and tonight was worse than most. His eyes snapped open to the dawn light, chest rising and falling rapidly in the wake of his final dream. Getting his bearings, he looked down and found that Rob was still sleeping, one arm draped across Rich’s belly, and Rich had to smile. He didn’t want to wake Rob, wanting to allow him the peace of his obviously contented sleep; wanting to save him for as long as possible from the pain he had seen on his dearest friend’s face last night. *11* Rob’s eyelids fluttered open against the warmth of Rich’s shirt. Propriety indicated that he should pull away, now that he was awake, but he didn’t. He felt safe with Rich’s arm around him; felt a strange sense of comfort that had, until now, eluded him. He tried to remain still, as if asleep, for just a while longer – partly to enjoy the feeling for as long as possible, but partly to work out just what this ‘feeling’ was. Rich felt the flicker of Rob’s lashes against his tight shirt, felt him become unnaturally still, and wondered what was going on under those curls. Was he embarrassed at waking up in Rich’s arms? Worse, was he horrified? Disgusted? The thought brought tears to Rich’s eyes. He swallowed hard and Rob stirred, looking up at him with an expression that he couldn’t quite place. *12* Rob felt Rich flinch against him and realised that he had to move. Rich was clearly uncomfortable with the unusual intimacy of the moment, and the last thing Rob wanted was to make his friend feel bad; not after everything he had done for him. He turned his face up to look at Rich, trying to keep the disappointment from showing and hoping that Rich’s discomfort wasn’t too intense. “Hey, Rob,” Rich forced his voice to sound casual and far less tortured than he felt. “How … how are you feeling?” Stupid question, he knew. But he had to say something to break the silence. Rob paused. He didn’t know how to answer truthfully; he still felt broken, but the numbness inside had been replaced with a strange, warm sensation. How could he explain that when he didn’t understand it himself? So, instead, he smiled softly and said “I … better, I guess. Sorry … about last night, I mean. You looked … you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” *13* Rich smiled as warmly as he could muster. “You gave me quite a fright, I’ll admit. But there’s nothing to apologise for – I’m just glad I came over. God knows how long you’d have been there!” Rob’s mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and he sat up straighter, cheeks burning. Rich instantly felt a flash of panic; he’d gone too far, he shouldn’t have said … “Rich, I’m sorry!” Rob exclaimed with genuine devastation. “Your divorce … we were supposed to meet … shit! I’m so sorry! No wonder you were upset last night when you brought the tea!” It was Rich’s turn to flush scarlet. He had been too eager to get back and make sure that Rob was okay to check his swollen eyes last night, and hadn’t expected Rob to notice anyway – not in the state he was in. Of course, he was wrong about the reason; his tears had been for Rob, not his own failed marriage. But this wasn’t the time to open that can of worms. *14* Rich shook his head. “Robbie, it’s fine. Honest. I guess yesterday was rough for both of us, but I think you got the worst deal. How … uh … how long were you on the floor?” Rob bit his lip and looked away. “I don’t know. Not really. I remember getting up – I was late in, so I think that was about 11 o’clock. I went straight down to see … Marnie …” His voice cracked at this point and he swallowed a few times before continuing. “She wasn’t there, so I sat down to call her. That was when … when …” Rich helped him out. “When you found the letter?” Rob nodded. “Yeah. It all went a bit blank after that. I think I checked the wardrobe at some point. Then, I guess …” He trailed off as, suddenly, a realisation hit him that stunned him into silence. *15* “Rich?” Rob ventured. “Have I spent the last day and night in just my underwear?” Rich chuckled at Rob’s obvious embarrassment. “Well, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before!” Rich’s mirth made Rob even more mortified, but it also lightened the mood a little, even as Rob tugged the sheets around him – to Rich’s ongoing amusement. “Now then,” Rich hopped out of bed with far more energy than he felt after his restless night. “Why don’t I fix us some food whilst you pack a bag?” Rob looked up at him, confused. “You don’t want to be here. Not right now. Trust me. Too many memories – too much pain. Come back to mine for a few days. A few weeks, if you need to. As long as you want.” Forever would be good, he thought. *16* Rob pushed his last few things into the oversized holdall, squeezing it firmly to fasten the zip. He’d probably packed too much – Rich had extended the offer indefinitely, but he wondered if, after a few days, he’d be encouraging him strongly to go home and try to move on. All the same, Rob wanted to spend more time with Rich. He was still trying to work out what he was feeling, but – whatever it was – it felt good. Still, that nagging feeling gnawed at him; Rich didn’t feel how he did. And, that being the case, what did it matter? A wave of dizziness hit him as that thought sank in. He slumped forward slightly, then felt strong hands rolling him over and laying him flat on the bed. *17* As the spinning sensation passed, Rob opened his eyes and looked up at Rich apologetically. “Good job I made breakfast – looks like you need it!” Rich’s voice was a little too cheery, betrayed by the look of fear in his eyes. Rob wondered for a moment what Rich was afraid of, before the thought was brushed aside as he was helped to his feet and slowly down the stairs. Rich’s heart was still racing. Seeing Rob collapsing over his packed bag had knocked the wind out of him and he was struggling to regain his cool. He was lifted slightly by the size of the bag Rob had chosen (and stuffed to capacity); it looked like he might take him up on his offer of a prolonged stay. To Rich, this was the best news he’d had in a very long time. *18* Rob eagerly tucked into the pancakes that Rich had prepared. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was,” he mumbled between mouthfuls. Rich smiled broadly, his first genuinely happy smile since this whole mess started. “It’s good to see you’ve got your appetite back. You all packed?” Rob nodded, swallowing his last forkful of pancake before speaking. “I’ve packed quite a lot – is that … okay?” He hesitated a little, not wanting to back Rich into a corner, but desperately hoping that he wouldn’t say ‘no’. Rich grinned again, that adorable, apparently toothless smile that very suddenly seemed to make Rob’s heart flip. Where the hell had that come from? “Like I said; stay as long as you want! Fuck, you can move in, if you like!” Rich laughed, hoping that Rob couldn’t see exactly how much he wanted that to happen. Be cool. Just be cool. *19* Rob was very settled on Rich’s couch when Rich reappeared with beers. It was a large couch – comfortable, soft – but Rob wished that Rich would sit a little closer. He couldn’t quite understand why he suddenly felt like this after all these years; didn’t know what these feelings meant. But he did know that he didn’t want it to stop. Rich carefully positioned himself just out of contact with Rob. It was easy enough on a couch this size, without looking obvious, but the part of his brain that he kept ignoring was screaming at him to move closer. Rich swigged his beer and told himself to shut the hell up. “So, it came through, then?” Rob wanted to talk, to stop his mind from racing away with thoughts he couldn’t understand. *20* Rich sighed. “The divorce? Yeah, done and dusted. Feels a bit weird – I’ve been ‘the husband’ for so long, and then I was ‘nearly divorced’, but being there now? Yeah, it’s a strange feeling.” Rob looked down the neck of his bottle. “A … bad feeling?” Rich understood; Rob was wondering how he was going to feel a few months down the line. “It’s easier than the break-up, mate,” he said softly, reaching over and squeezing Rob’s shoulder briefly, feeling him shudder slightly under his touch. “And having a good friend by your side really helps. You were there for me – I intend to return the favour.” Rob tried to subtly catch his breath; Rich’s touch had been unexpected, as had his body’s reaction. If he didn’t know better … but he did. So it couldn’t be that. Could it? *21* They talked until the early hours; drinking beer, mulling over their individual predicaments, getting a little bit drunk and maybe a little too emotional. Eventually, with Rich nearly asleep mid-sentence, they decided that it was probably time for bed. Rob undressed quickly, trying to stay upright, but ultimately tripping out of his trousers and face first onto the bed. He giggled vaguely and wriggled out of his remaining clothes, snuggling down under the thick, soft duvet and resting back on the pillow. He thought back to earlier – to the shivers that Rich’s touch sent through him, his bizarre wish that he would sit a little closer. What did it all mean? Was he just missing the obvious, here? He was still trying to fathom out his feelings as sleep overtook him. *22* Rich was holding Rob’s hand. Just gently, hoping that he wouldn’t wake him, but desperate to touch him, longing to hold him close and tell him the truth. But he couldn’t do that; not yet. For now, he’d have to settle for this – holding his hand secretly whilst he slept. He couldn’t be caught. If Rob didn’t feel the same … the thought sent a shudder through his whole body and Rob’s eyes snapped open. “What the fuck are you doing?” Rob yelled at him, yanking his hand away in disgust. “I … I …” Rich spluttered, reaching for Rob. “Get away from me, you filthy bastard! Get the hell away!” Rich backed out of the room, sobbing for everything he’d lost. *23* “Rich! Rich! Wake up! It’s okay!” Rob was standing over Rich’s bed, shaking him gently. Rich’s eyes opened slowly, his heart racing, faced soaked with tears and sweat. “What … I …?” he tried to speak, but all he could see was Rob screaming at him, and it took his breath away. Rob sat next to him, still holding his shoulder, rubbing it softly to comfort him. “You were screaming – I came in to see what was going on. I guess it was a nightmare?” Rich nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” Rich imagined trying to tell Rob that he was in love with him, but he’d dreamt about Rob rejecting him, then shook his head. He couldn’t face that dream coming true. *24* Rob had never seen Rich like this. He looked so scared, so fragile. He didn’t want to leave him in this state, so he shuffled further onto the bed. “I’ll stay with you, until you’re okay. Okay?” Rich nodded, glad of the company, relieved that Rob’s kindness was starting to erase the angry, disgusted Rob of his dream. He was still trembling, tears were still rolling down his face, but the more he looked into Rob’s concerned, blue eyes, the more the pain in his chest ebbed away. “That was a bad one, huh?” Rob asked as Rich started to relax. Rich nodded. “Yeah, worst for a while.” And he meant it. *25* Rob cocked his head on one side. “You have nightmares a lot? You never mentioned it.” Rich closed his eyes. “I … I was embarrassed. But yes, I have them a lot. Most nights, if I’m honest. But this one … this was worse.” He rolled his head away, trying to calm his breathing. He could feel his face burning. Rob desperately wanted to hold Rich until he fell asleep. He had never felt such longing in his life and it came as a total shock. He had to say something; this silence was making his brain spin. “You sure that you don’t want to talk about it? You don’t need to be embarrassed with me. You can tell me anything – anything. I won’t judge you.” Visions of Rob screaming ‘you filthy bastard’ flashed through Rich’s mind. *26* Rich forced a smile. “It’s just … silly things. Rejection. You know? That’s all. I dream about that. And it’s kinda scary at the time. But I’m okay.” Rob wasn’t convinced. He had known Rich for long enough to know when he was keeping something back. But he couldn’t probe any further; if he’d wanted to tell him, he’d had plenty of encouragement. Maybe Rich just wanted him to leave now? That’s why he was fobbing him off. “I should probably just leave you to sleep?” He phrased it as a question, hoping that Rich would ask him to stay. Rich’s heart sank. Rob wanted to leave. He bit back his disappointment. “Yeah. Yeah, we probably both need the sleep. Thank you for looking after me.” Rob half-smiled as he walked slowly out of the room. “Night, Rich.” “Night, Rob.” Rich rolled over as Rob left, tears already welling up in his eyes again. “I love you,” he whispered to the closed door. *27* Rob awoke early the next morning, his head pounding from a combination of beer and emotion. He had felt closer to Rich last night than he had felt to anyone else but Marnie; yet, somehow, he felt like he was falling further away. He wrapped a robe around his tanned body and padded gingerly to the kitchen. Rich was sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands, groaning. “You look as bad as I feel,” Rob growled, his throat hoarse. Rich lifted his head, instantly regretting the movement as the nausea swept over him. He took several shallow breaths before replying. “Remind me never to drink again. I’m too old for hangovers.” *28* Rob pulled up a chair next to him, wincing at the scraping it made on the hardwood floor. “Same here. Drink this.” He pushed a large glass of water in front of Rich. “Did you manage to get some sleep in the end?” Rich bit his lip. He hadn’t slept at all after Rob left his room; every time he closed his eyes, he saw Rob’s face, twisted in horror, and his eyes had snapped open again. “Yeah, yeah, I was fine. How about you?” Rob nodded. “No problem.” It was a lie, of course. Rob had drifted fitfully in and out of sleep, constantly listening for sounds from Rich’s room to indicate another nightmare. He sipped his own glass of water, trying to keep it in his stomach, focusing all of his attention on that to avoid the thoughts that kept whirring in his head. *29* They spent most of the day sitting in dimly lit rooms, blinds drawn, talking in hushed tones. Rob had eventually worked up the courage to cook breakfast – all fried to allegedly ‘soak up the alcohol’ – and they had both managed to eat at least some of it. By early evening, most of the symptoms had eased sufficiently that they could contemplate dinner without revisiting breakfast. Rich put together a reasonable meal, given his still delicate condition, and they ate quietly before seeking out a suitably sedate movie to while away the rest of the evening. It was midnight when Rob suggested maybe heading to bed. He was exhausted after his sleepless night, and Rich had shadows under his eyes that were almost black, so it came as a surprise when Rich shook his head and moved to get another DVD. *30* Rob stared at Rich, confused. “Aren’t you tired? You … look wiped.” Rich turned away, fumbling to get the DVD from its case. “Nope, I’m fine.” He could hardly say that he could barely keep his eyes open, but he didn’t dare close them again. But this time, Rob wasn’t convinced. He sat back down, closer to Rich than before, resting a hand on his back. “Come on, Rich. You’re exhausted. What’s going on? Talk to me.” Rich sighed. He really didn’t want to do this; not when things had been going so well. But what choice did he have? *31* “Okay. Look. You’re right; I’m wiped. I just … I can’t sleep. I can’t have that dream again. I don’t think I … I just can’t, okay?” Rich was getting louder, rougher, his voice pained with memories. “What was that dream, Rich?” Rob’s voice was soft, soothing. “You didn’t tell me everything last night. Who was it that rejected you?” Rich closed his eyes. When his voice came, it was barely audible. “You.” Rob sat, open-mouthed. “Me? Why? Why would I …?” “Because I was … I was acting like … more than a friend.” And then Rob understood. It all fell into place – these emotions, the odd feelings, everything – it finally made sense. “Rich,” he whispered, “I love you.” *32* “What?” Rich’s voice had a strange tone that Rob couldn’t quite place. “I said ‘I love you’, Rich.” Rich shot up from the couch and spun around to face Rob. “How could you? How could you say that to me?” His face was turning puce with rage. “I … I don’t understand,” Rob stammered, staring up at Rich. “What, you thought it would be funny to make it a joke? Knowing how I feel about you? That’s your idea of humour? Of friendship? To mock me?” Rob started to smile. “Rich, no, I can explain,” he said softly, rising to his feet. “Explain what, exactly? Why you thought it was funny?” Rob tried to speak, but Rich kept raving at him, so ultimately … “RICH!” he yelled, stunning Rich into silence just long enough to grab his face in both hands and kiss him fiercely. “I said I loved you because I meant it. That’s what I was trying to explain.” *33* Rich just stared at Rob, mouth agape. “Now do you understand?” Rob asked, still holding Rich’s face. Rich nodded, apparently in shock. “I … I thought … but you … you really love me, too?” Rob chuckled. “Yes, you idiot!” He slid his arms around Rich’s shoulders and pulled him in for a hug; finally regaining use of his body, Rich returned the embrace warmly. “I’ve wanted this for so long, Rob,” he whispered, struggling to control his emotions. “So long.” Rob pulled away slightly to kiss him again; tenderly this time and reciprocated. *34* As they kissed softly, Rob’s hands strayed down Rich’s back, squeezing his butt through the thick denim. Wanting to explore every inch of Rob’s body, Rich pulled him closer, feeling his warm chest pressed against his own, gripping Rob’s firm, muscular arms. Rob suddenly pulled his face away and whispered hoarsely, “Do you want to … you know?” He gestured with his eyes. Rich was conflicted. “Jesus, Rob, you know I do!” He was sure that Rob could feel his erection – they were certainly close enough. “But … are you sure about this?” Rob nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” He took Rich’s hands, leading him to the bedroom. *35* Rich had been holding back, afraid that he might lose control and scare Rob away. But he soon realised that he shouldn’t have worried. Rob was already lifting Rich’s t-shirt, planting light kisses across his chest and up his neck, as his hands worked the shirt over Rich’s head and tossed it aside. Pushing Rich down onto the bed, Rob removed his jeans and straddled his hips, running his hands up Rich’s chest, fingers tangled in his hair; bringing his head down to take a nipple between his teeth, tugging gently, flicking his tongue over the firm fleshy prominence. Rich moaned in pleasure, his whole body flooded with arousal. “Oh God, Rob!” he cried out, bucking his hips up as Rob sucked hard. Rob brought his kisses up to Rich’s neck, then firmly covered his mouth with his own, tongue sliding inside, dancing with Rich’s. Coming up for air, he breathed hotly into Rich’s mouth. “I want you, Rich. I want you inside me.” *36* Woah, Rich thought. That escalated quickly! “Rob, you’re sure about this? I mean, ‘sure’?” Rob pulled away slightly. “You aren’t?” He was still gasping; mouth open, cheeks flushed. “Oh Rob, I am 100% sure that I want to fuck you until you can’t walk!” Rich grinned at the thought. “I just need to know that you’re ready.” Rob crawled backwards, stood up, then walked out of the room and closed the door. *37* Rich lay there, shaking a little; still very aroused, but heartbroken that he’d stopped Rob. Maybe it was for the best, but … Then, the door opened again. Rich looked up to find Rob, completely naked, standing over him. “Is this confirmation enough?” He pulled Rich’s boxers off and climbed back on top of him. “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, you were gonna uh ‘fuck me until I couldn’t walk’, right?” Rob grinned, leaning back down to Rich’s neck, taking a pinch of flesh in his teeth and nibbling gently, sucking a small bruise. He could feel Rich’s hard cock pressed against his stomach and his own shaft twitched with desire. “Fuck me, Rich. Please. Please?” *38* Hearing Rob begging just turned Rich on even more. He grabbed Rob’s ass, lifted him and flipped him onto his back. “Oh God, I want you.” Rich scrambled to the bedside cabinet, grabbed the lube from the drawer, and slicked a layer of it over Rob’s tight hole. Gently, he slid his index finger inside, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation. He slid his finger up and down, his free hand firmly massaging the head of Rob’s rock-hard cock. Rob arched his back and moaned; a low, feral growl that seemed to come from the pit of his stomach. “More,” he gasped, head thrown back. “Oh, Rich, more!” *39* Rich carefully slipped a second finger inside, scissoring slightly at first, relaxing the muscles; as they started to yield to his touch, he moved more deliberately, sliding them open further, pushing deeper, thrusting harder until Rob was writhing with pleasure. Rich continued to thrust his fingers inside Rob, one-handedly lubing up his own pulsating length. As he slipped his fingers out, Rob whimpered slightly, needing more. “You’re ready?” Rich asked, still worried about hurting Rob. “Oh fuck, yeah. Rich, please,” Rob was panting, every inch of his body longing to feel Rich inside him. “Please … NOW!” *40* Rich didn’t need more encouragement. Lifting Rob slightly, butt cheeks resting on Rich’s thighs, he pushed the head of his cock just inside, then a little further; finally, as Rob grabbed at him, eyes pleading, he thrust all the way in, rocking his hips back and forth, biting his lip, desperate not to climax too quickly, wanting this moment to last forever. Rob moaned with a pleasure more intense than anything he had felt before. Every time Rich’s cock hit his prostate, it was all he could do not to come undone completely. He never wanted this to end, but he couldn’t hold out much longer. Every thrust was bringing his so close that he could feel his own erection twitch and pulse. “Oh, fuck, Rich … I’m … I’m … oh fuck … fuck …” Rob’s head was thrown back as he came over Rich’s hand and his own belly, and Rich finally allowed himself relief, thrusting inside Rob harder and faster, managing little more than a strangled, incoherent moan as he came inside Rob, collapsing over him as he pulled out and covering his gasping, open mouth with a long, lingering kiss. *41* They fell asleep in each other’s arms after a quick clean-up, still naked, enjoying the sensation of skin on skin. When Rob woke up, the dawn light was streaming in through the slats of the blind. Rich was still sleeping, a faint smile on his lips, the terrors of the previous night replaced by contented dreams. Rob smiled broadly, slipping under the covers and taking Rich’s cock into his mouth; just the head to begin with, flicking his tongue deftly around the sensitive, bulbous tip. As he slipped his mouth around the shaft, he bobbed gently at first, then faster, needing more movement as the length and girth increased. Rich stirred – still half-dozing – gasped, clawing at the bedsheets, stammering Rob’s name. He wasn’t entirely sure that he wasn’t dreaming, but this was good. Whatever it was, it was so good. Rob worked him faster, cupping and softly massaging his balls until Rich no longer had control of any part of his body. *42* “Oh fuck, Rob, you might want to … I’m … I’m gonna … uhhh …” Rich came fiercely in Rob’s mouth, his whole body pulsing, tears in his eyes from the intensity of his orgasm. Rob swallowed, licked his lips, then reappeared beside Rich, smiling sheepishly. “Did you …?” Rob nodded at the half-asked question. “Salty,” he replied. Rich shook his head in disbelief. “Guess I owe you one in return, later!” Rob laughed. “I hope so!” He rested his head on Rich’s bare chest, smiling to himself. This was how he wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of his life. “I love you, Rich.” “I love you, too,” Rich replied, pulling him closer and kissing his soft curls. “Always?” Rob sat up and planted a lingering kiss on Rich’s lips. “And forever.”

[lifeonsarz]

Autumn Back “I’ve lost everyone. Everyone I’ve ever cared for. There’s no one left ... nearly no one left. My dog. My oldest friend. Everyone has left me, one way or another. What is left for me now? “So, you see why it has to be this way? You understand why? There’s just nothing left. I have to leave. And you can’t come with me. Not where I’m going. You must stay here. “It won’t hurt. I’m told that you just slip away painlessly into emptiness. I think that will be nice; no more pain. There’s so much pain. So much suffering. And all of that will end now. For both of us. And I want this so much – to be free. Don’t you want to be free?” Turned out that I did. I really did. So, before he could press that little syringe against my neck, I hit him. I hit him as hard as I could with the only thing my hands could reach; the chunk of wood he had just laid beside the fire, admiring its grain as he spoke. I heard a crack before swinging again, sending him stumbling back, losing his footing into the deep pit of his own making. As it happens, he was right; I couldn’t go with him. But he was the one who would stay, his final cries muffled under each shovel of earth. And now, we’re both free.

[lifeonsarz]

Grandma’s Song March 19th 1985 I died on a Tuesday. The morning sun streamed in through the floral curtains, but my eyes never opened to see it. I just watched myself lying there, peaceful and still. I stayed as my family arrived, longed to reach out and hold my daughter as she wept at my passing. But, of course, I could do nothing. And he was waiting. * My mother was always a heavy sleeper, so it wasn’t too unheard of for me to let myself in and have to gently shake her awake. But not today. Nor any other day after this. It’s not sunk in yet. Still numb. There are things to arrange, calls to make, so many thoughts whirring in my head. I can’t keep up with them. I have to tell the kids, of course, but I can’t bring myself to. Not yet. They deserve a few more hours without this. Just a little while longer. * March 20th 1985 Grandma passed away yesterday. Peacefully, apparently. In her sleep. I know that’s the way that we all hope to go, but I don’t want her to be gone. My head is full of things that I meant to say to her; things that I always thought were implied, but that I fully intended to say, one day. But one day too many passed me by. I need to talk to someone – need someone to hold me and kiss my forehead like she always used to and tell me everything will be okay. But no one is here to do that. My sister said that I need to be strong for mom; I’m a man now. I have to think about mom and keep myself together – falling apart isn’t an option. But every part of me just wants to break down right now. I don’t know how to do this. * March 25th 1985 It’s her funeral today. I have to get up and say something. I ... I don’t know what to say. I’m supposed to say something deeply meaningful – something to help everyone with their grief. But I’m grieving; I’m grieving, too, and I can’t see past that right now. I just need someone to be here for me at the moment, however selfish that sounds to everyone else. But Dad’s gone. And she’s gone. And everyone else needs me to be strong. And I’ve got to think of something – anything – that I can say up there that won’t hurt everyone more. Because the fact is that she was alone. And, in the end, aren’t we all alone? No matter how much love we have in our lives, aren’t we all walking into the light completely alone? I just can’t find any comfort to give. * Just one more day. I begged him for one more day. After all, how many chances do you get to attend your own funeral? I wander through the church, unseen. My daughter looks pale, drawn, exhausted. But it’s my grandson who concerns me the most. He’s always been a sensitive boy and I can see now that he’s fighting to maintain the mask of strength that everyone has doubtless told him he needs to wear. I lay my ethereal hand on his trembling shoulder, hoping that it might bring him some small comfort. He’s so close, yet he may as well be a million miles away. If there was anything I could do to take this pain from him, to make it go away, I would. But as he stumbles through his quiet, despondent reading, all that I can do is hold him, knowing that my actions are in vain. I feel a warm hand close softly around my wrist and a soothing male voice whispers “It’s time.” I turn slowly to face him. Gabriel’s eyes burn a warm amber, like sunlight streaming through stained glass; his gently spreading smile washing away my fear. “I know,” I whisper back, my eyes falling to break away from his. “But ... surely – there must be something I can do?” I gestured helplessly at my grandson, currently biting down on his lip to keep his tears from falling. Gabriel tilted his head, his brow furrowed; then, he smiled again. “There may be one thing.” * April 22nd 1985 It’s been exactly four weeks since grandma’s funeral. My suit has lain over the chair in my room since that day, slightly crumpled; a bitter reminder of what was lost. Until now, I haven’t been able to bring myself to move it, but I know that I must. It’s not like keeping it there will bring her back. Reluctantly, I tug my trousers back onto their hanger and grab the jacket by its sleeve. Something flutters from the pocket and I stoop to pick it up; a small, golden feather. As the faint light glints through the slats of the blind, the feather sparkles and glistens like pure gold. My eyes are drawn to the narrow quill, where one word lies etched in a familiar hand: Always. And I smile.