“Oh, God.” Rian groaned. He really was as bad as Chris—making something out of nothing, taking too much on himself and just...assuming too much.
And he really needed to stop.
But right now he didn’t want to stop smiling, as he settled closer in Damon’s arms. “I can probably make it, if it’s on a weekend or during a holiday break. And maybe...there’s someone I’d like to bring home for you to meet.”
Chapter Twenty
Damon listened while Rian finished talking with his mother—and just enjoyed the calm, the quiet, of Rian taking shelter in his arms.
Felt like Rian damned well belonged there.
Felt like their rough edges had sanded smooth, and right now...
Right now, they just fit.
And after Rian finished, hung up his phone, and slipped it into his pocket...they stayed. For long, lingering moments they stayed, Rian’s arms curled between them, his breaths warm through Damon’s shirt as Rian rested his head to Damon’s shoulder.
Hell of a day.
Hell of a day.
Too many ups, too many downs, but right now he was pretty fucking happy about ending on a pretty even keel of wordless contentment.
He nuzzled into Rian’s hair and murmured into the quiet. “That sounded like it went okay.”
“Yeah.” Rian let out an amused sigh. “I’m just...no better than the kids, sometimes. I hid from something that didn’t have to be a problem.”
“So your parents aren’t...?”
“They’re happy as long as I’m happy.”
“Are you?” Damon asked. “Happy here.”
Rian drew back, looking up at him with his pale, delicate face tilted up so sweetly, and offered Damon a smile so genuine, so openly heartfelt that Damon felt like he was seeing Rian for the very first time.
“More and more every day,” Rian whispered.
Damon threaded his fingers into Rian’s hair, cupping his hand against his smooth cheek, and nearly groaned with pleasure as Rian leaned into his touch, rubbing his jaw to the heel of Damon’s palm. “Ri,” he murmured. “Can we talk?”
“We should.” Voice soft, so soft, as if they’d just...forgotten how to argue with each other, and Rian brushed his lips to Damon’s palm, tingling-smooth and silken, hazel eyes glowing as he looked up at him—then slowly drew back, lacing his fingers into Damon’s. “Walk with me?” he entreated, and drew on Damon’s hand. “I want to show you something.”
Damon only nodded, and fell into step with Rian.
He didn’t need to speak.
Right now...
Just being with Rian was enough.
Their arms brushed lightly, their fingers remaining intertwined as Rian led him down the quiet and ethereal corridors, gray wood turned to pale-shimmering lavender in the moonlight—and then out. The faint sound of the security code on the front door, the creak of the hinges, the heavy groan of the great oaken double doors of the school falling shut...and then they were on the winding road leading down the hill, walking together beneath the bower of climbing, twisting birch trees, and every moment was a moment Damon took into himself.
Walking with Rian beneath the sky, the trees, and needing nothing else but this:
The scent of cool evening, and Rian’s hand clasped close.
He lifted his head to take in his surroundings, though, as Rian stepped off the paved road and into the trees; the fresh-fallen leaves crunched underfoot, and Damon reached ahead of them to push aside branches and the boughs of bushes that lightly scratched their browning foliage against his arms as he followed where Rian led, curiosity building inside him; curiosity and a sense of silent peace, as now and then he glanced over at Rian and took in the elfin line of his features, the way the shadows caught in the hollows of his eyes, the parting of his lips, the way his hair trailed behind him, the way now and then the night caught in his eyes to turn them into fireflies.
But he found his gaze drawn from Rian to the sight before him as the trees parted before them into a clearing, one where in the center of the showers of leaves and yellowing grass...
A single towering tree stood, its bark burnt away by what looked like a long-ago lightning strike to leave only pale, luminous-white wood and a blackened, charred heart at the fork of it, scorched down to the core and yet...
He thought the tree was still alive.
Still alive, and still growing ever upward, its naked branches clutching for the sky.
Rian drifted to a halt, and his stillness stopped Damon, and together they stood and looked at that lightning-split tree with its exposed inner gnarls, naked and strange and lovely.
But finally Rian broke the silence, his fingers tightening on Damon’s.
“This tree...” He trailed off, his eyes lidding as he looked up, gazing high into the branches. “It made me think of you.” His lips quirked faintly. “Lightning-struck until your heart’s split open, but you never stop reaching for something more. I’ve been trying to paint it, but every shape...” He glanced at Damon sidelong, shy and sweet through the spidering spray of his lashes, glimmers of gold sparks. “You’re in every line of it. The way your body moves, the way your arms stretch. Every angle and shadow of you somehow became part of that painting.” With every word he spoke, his blush melted over his cheeks, across his nose, up to his ears, down to his throat, as if he was a sunrise in the shape of a man. “It’s strange how something creeps in when you don’t even realize it’s coming, until suddenly it’s there and just...part of you.”
Damon let his gaze drift over the lines of Rian’s face, the tentative hopefulness in his eyes, the way this moment seemed to tremble as breathlessly as Rian’s lashes.
“What’re you trying to tell me, Ri?” he whispered.
“I’m saying...” Rian bit his lip. “Somehow you just...you got inside me. And in all this push and pull and conflict between us, it’s like when the wounds healed over they sealed you inside me until you’re just...there. And you feel right, as long as you’re there...but it would hurt to try to cut you out.”
Those compelling eyes, those soft words, seemed to ask Damon for something—something deep, something fragile, something that was as hidden and personal as the heart of this tree that had been cut open...and for a moment, just a moment, Damon wanted to pull back. To shut down, to stop talking, to not risk that when he knew how the hell he and Rian clashed and fought and hurt each other, except...
Catching a breath, he looked away from Rian, letting his gaze be captured by the tree once more, turning his thoughts over.