“I don’t know.” Rian shook his head, his hair rippling around him. He stepped back, clutching one hand against his chest, the other wrapped around his forearm in a death grip that made the fine bones of his wrist stand out starkly. He gulped back a ragged sound. “I... I should go.”
“Running away?”
Rian stopped in the middle of taking another step backward. “Giving us both space to think.” He blinked quickly, a little too hard. “It seems like we need that...doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. You’re probably right.”
Yet some part of Damon felt like if he let Rian go...that wall between them would never come down. Maybe it shouldn’t, though. Maybe they should just...fucking keep their distance if they upset each other this much—and he sure as hell wasn’t going to try to force Rian to stay, or talk to him if he didn’t want to. Because Rian was right; just sitting here flinging shit at each other wasn’t going to help anything right now, and it would do them both good to separate and clear their heads.
So he just...watched Rian go.
Watched Rian turn his back on him, slender hand gripping at the edge of the door as he pushed it open. But before Rian could cross the threshold, Damon caught himself talking before he could stop his lips from moving, little droplets of hurt pouring off his tongue as sounds.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Rian.”
Rian stopped so sharply his clothing swayed around him, his hair swirling in an eddying cloud; he threw a wide-eyed, startled look over his shoulder. “It’s...it’s not you I’m afraid of,” he said blankly, then more emphatically, “Not at all. Never. How could I be afraid of you?”
Damon felt selfish, almost, for how that eased the tightness inside him.
But he’d fucking needed to hear it, too.
And it was easier to talk without the lump in his throat choking off his words as he asked, “Nah? Then what?”
“I...” Rian’s lashes lowered. “I’m afraid of hurting you just by being me.”
“You so sure that’s how it would be?”
“I don’t know.” With a halfhearted shrug, Rian’s lips twitched in a pallid attempt at a smile, as if he couldn’t even muster up the energy for one of those damned fake, pleasantly polite things. “But we really shouldn’t let an entire week go without talking again.”
“We won’t,” Damon promised. “Go clear your head. I get it. It’s okay.”
“Thank you,” Rian whispered.
Before, once again, Damon had to watch him walk away, the door closing in his wake.
Leaving Damon alone, and wondering why he felt like they’d just broken something when there’d been nothing there to break to start with.
Chapter Fourteen
Maybe, Rian thought, it would serve him right if Damon ignored him.
Because if he’d been treating Damon in such a way that Damon thought Rian was afraid of him, then Rian had been absolutely right.
It was so easy for him to hurt Damon just by being himself, without even realizing the fallout of his casual little careless comments.
Rian lay on his back in bed, staring up at the ceiling and the patterns the moonlight made against the stucco patterns, filtered through trees that were slowly starting to lose the first of their leaves, making silhouetted black spider webs of branches against the white stucco. Through the bedroom wall, he could hear Walden moving around; he’d been avoiding the man as much as was necessary considering they rarely crossed paths, when Rian didn’t know if he’d fucking explode at him or not.
He didn’t know anything right now.
What had him so agitated, why he couldn’t settle.
Why it bothered him that he was no longer sore inside; could no longer feel where Damon had been.
Why he couldn’t fall asleep when it was well after midnight, and he had classes to teach tomorrow, and he’d already straggled through Monday’s classes in a daze after barely sleeping all weekend.
...or why Walden was still up at what had to be almost two o’clock in the morning, and from the sound of it...pacing, when Walden was an early to bed, early to rise type who kept his schedules as religiously as a nun and usually slept like the still and silent dead.
But apparently Rian and Walden weren’t the only ones awake.
Because while he was watching the silver coins of moonlight shower across the ceiling, his phone lit up on his nightstand, followed by the soft vibrations of an incoming text message. He rolled over, sprawling on his stomach and hugging a pillow to his chest with one arm, the other reaching out to snag the phone and drag it over.
Only for his heart to stop at the sight of that black and white icon on the incoming message.
He swiped it so quickly he didn’t even get to see the preview on the home screen, and called himself every manner of name for how fumbly-handed and breathless he turned as he tapped through to read the message.
You up? Damon sent. Really hope your phone is on vibrate, if not. Uh, if I woke you up...sorry?
Rian couldn’t help smiling, curling his knuckles against his lips. God, after he’d been lying awake miserable for three nights turning over this mess with Damon, the bigger mess with Chris...he shouldn’t be so giddy at just one text, or the way Damon seemed almost sweetly sheepish. Maybe it didn’t erase the tension between them, but...
It felt like a peace offering, at least.
I’m up, he sent back, propping his chin in his palm and Swyping with one thumb. Wondering why you are, though.
Worrying. Restless. Can’t fucking sleep, came back a few seconds later. You heard from his parents?
Rian frowned, sighing. Nothing. No call or email. You?
Not a thing. A pause, then before Rian could answer, another message popped up on the screen, scrolling up the messenger window. Should we go see him again tomorrow?
Even if it was just expressionless text...there was a soft worry there that at once melted Rian’s heart and made it ache, when it echoed his own concerns, half the things keeping him awake at night. I don’t know, he answered. What if putting more pressure on him makes it worse? What if he does something reckless because he feels cornered?
Yeah. That’s a real worry. I don’t fucking know, Rian.
Me either, Rian said—and suddenly wished he was just...
With Damon.
In that quiet lamplit room, that cozy space that belonged to Damon and Damon alone, but that Rian wouldn’t mind being permitted in now and then if only so he could somehow try to comfort Damon in all those small ways that had nothing to do with sex. Leaning close, brushing his hair back, talking to him, listening to all the troubles on his mind instead of giving him more things to worry about; more things to keep him awake at night.