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Thank you!
Learning to see? See what exactly? Hold on here folks, I have no idea what i’m doing!
“Jerry?”
“’m right here, baby,” Jerry says, soft and sad and quiet, right in David’s ear. He starts, a little frightened. The room is a barrage of smells and sounds - David can hear the water running in the pipes and the sound of the cars on the highway half a mile away. He can hear the dry quality of Jerry’s breathing - of his own. He can hear emptiness in his own chest - his heart now cold and silent.
Panic balloons in David’s chest. It feels like it’s crushing him, taking away his ability to breath. And then he realizes he doesn’t need to anymore. David’s eyes fly open, a strangled sound leaving his lips, and then he shrieks in agony. Light pierces into his eyeballs like glass shards. He closes them again, willing away the pain and slapping his hands to his face.
“Easy! Easy!” Jerry says, and he sounds strained, stressed, maybe even afraid. David turns his head to track Jerry’s movements across the room; the rustle of the sheets when he leaves the bed, the slide of his socks on hardwood, the way the fabric of his jeans rub together when he walks. David has those thighs memorized, has every aspect of Jerry memorized; from the little wisp of hair that’s always falling into his eyes to the way he stretches and yawns just before the sun comes up.
David thinks he’ll need it. It’s a bitter thought, and one with claws. It’s already sinking into him, changing and twisting every fibre of David’s being. The light switch clicks, and then Jerry speaks again.
“Alright baby, it’s darker now. Try opening your eyes.”
David bites his lip. Some sort of irrational fear is threatening to swallow him whole. He doesn’t want to open his eyes - he’s been taught his whole life not to look at the sun. Now Jerry’s asking him to, or at least it feels like that.
“It’s alright, Davie,” Jerry coaxes. There’s the rasp of his jeans again, before the bed dips and arms wrap around David, cuddling him to Jerry’s chest. David finds himself amazed by the fact that they’re the same temperature now, as much as the fact that Jerry’s scent isn’t overwhelmingly powerful now, as David expected it would be.
David rests his head in the junction of Jerry’s shoulder, caressing the soft fabric of his teeshirt, investigating the fibres underneath his fingertips. Jerry rumbles out a chuckle and kisses David’s hair.
“C’mon, baby,” Jerry says, “Please?”
David opens his eyes. Slowly, halting, expecting searing agony again. But he’s only met with Jerry’s pale face, features pinched in a pained expression, eyes swimming with sadness and regret.
“Wha’?” David asks.
“Your eyes are black now,” Jerry answers, “You’re hungry.”
David reaches with trembling fingers to massage the space around his eyes, smooth and soft. His gaze flickers around the room, from the sheets to the walls to the window - from the thread count to the pores in the paint to the tiny bubbles of air trapped in the glass as it cooled.
Jerry leans into him, kissing David’s cheek, “You’ll get used to it,” he says, “I promise baby. It gets easier, the sensitivity goes away.”
David closes his eyes again, turning his face so he can press it into Jerry’s throat. His hands shake still, and his brain spins with all this new information.
“I’m scared,” David finally says, admitting the one thing he never has, not since he was a wee tot in Mam’s arms. Jerry kisses him again, forehead resting against David’s crown, “I know. It’s alright. I’m here.”
Thank you!
Learning to see? See what exactly? Hold on here folks, I have no idea what i’m doing!
“Jerry?”
“’m right here, baby,” Jerry says, soft and sad and quiet, right in David’s ear. He starts, a little frightened. The room is a barrage of smells and sounds - David can hear the water running in the pipes and the sound of the cars on the highway half a mile away. He can hear the dry quality of Jerry’s breathing - of his own. He can hear emptiness in his own chest - his heart now cold and silent.
Panic balloons in David’s chest. It feels like it’s crushing him, taking away his ability to breath. And then he realizes he doesn’t need to anymore. David’s eyes fly open, a strangled sound leaving his lips, and then he shrieks in agony. Light pierces into his eyeballs like glass shards. He closes them again, willing away the pain and slapping his hands to his face.
“Easy! Easy!” Jerry says, and he sounds strained, stressed, maybe even afraid. David turns his head to track Jerry’s movements across the room; the rustle of the sheets when he leaves the bed, the slide of his socks on hardwood, the way the fabric of his jeans rub together when he walks. David has those thighs memorized, has every aspect of Jerry memorized; from the little wisp of hair that’s always falling into his eyes to the way he stretches and yawns just before the sun comes up.
David thinks he’ll need it. It’s a bitter thought, and one with claws. It’s already sinking into him, changing and twisting every fibre of David’s being. The light switch clicks, and then Jerry speaks again.
“Alright baby, it’s darker now. Try opening your eyes.”
David bites his lip. Some sort of irrational fear is threatening to swallow him whole. He doesn’t want to open his eyes - he’s been taught his whole life not to look at the sun. Now Jerry’s asking him to, or at least it feels like that.
“It’s alright, Davie,” Jerry coaxes. There’s the rasp of his jeans again, before the bed dips and arms wrap around David, cuddling him to Jerry’s chest. David finds himself amazed by the fact that they’re the same temperature now, as much as the fact that Jerry’s scent isn’t overwhelmingly powerful now, as David expected it would be.
David rests his head in the junction of Jerry’s shoulder, caressing the soft fabric of his teeshirt, investigating the fibres underneath his fingertips. Jerry rumbles out a chuckle and kisses David’s hair.
“C’mon, baby,” Jerry says, “Please?”
David opens his eyes. Slowly, halting, expecting searing agony again. But he’s only met with Jerry’s pale face, features pinched in a pained expression, eyes swimming with sadness and regret.
“Wha’?” David asks.
“Your eyes are black now,” Jerry answers, “You’re hungry.”
David reaches with trembling fingers to massage the space around his eyes, smooth and soft. His gaze flickers around the room, from the sheets to the walls to the window - from the thread count to the pores in the paint to the tiny bubbles of air trapped in the glass as it cooled.
Jerry leans into him, kissing David’s cheek, “You’ll get used to it,” he says, “I promise baby. It gets easier, the sensitivity goes away.”
David closes his eyes again, turning his face so he can press it into Jerry’s throat. His hands shake still, and his brain spins with all this new information.
“I’m scared,” David finally says, admitting the one thing he never has, not since he was a wee tot in Mam’s arms. Jerry kisses him again, forehead resting against David’s crown, “I know. It’s alright. I’m here.”
