Until We're Home Read online

  “Until what?”

  “Until I came over that day and he was here. Who is he? I have never seen anyone like him before,” Jon said, putting the weed on the table. “Do you have a pipe or something?”

  “There are rolling papers in the cookie tin on the coffee table. And I assume you have a lighter?”

  “You roll this, you know I’m terrible,” Jon said.

  “Okay. I’ll be right back. Just have to stop my bath,” Jesse said, smiling back despite himself. He went into the bathroom and turned the tap off. Something told him that this was a terrible idea.

  He knew where it was leading. The last time him and Jon had been together had been fun, except for the fact that he had known of the cheating by then. Jesse had wanted to use it as a trump card, tell Jon he would never find someone as good as him again. Instead it just left him feeling dirty and he hadn’t been able to say anything as Jon had kissed him on the cheek and told him he would call, you know, later, whenever he had a chance. Because his IT job kept him so very, very busy.

  Two years. Two wasted, meaningless years. Full of really, really good sex.

  He hadn’t even been able to masturbate when Puck was around. Every time he had tried to, he had to stop himself. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep from calling his name if he was just in the next room and he knew that Puck wouldn’t turn him down. He was trying to work on his frustration. He knew that Jon would be able to help. He could always help.

  “Jesse?”

  “Coming!”

  * * *

  “So,” Jon said, passing him the very last bit of the spliff after sniffing. He was sitting on the sofa, leaning back, his nose still stuffy from the last of the coke. Looking relaxed. As if he still came around every weekend. “Are we going to talk about what happened or are we just going to pretend we’re friends?”

  Jesse took a drag and smiled. “Denial was working fine. We were getting along.”

  “We were.” Jon exhaled through his mouth. “I don’t want us to get along. I want us to be together.”

  “We were together, Jon. Now we’re not,” Jesse said, shrugging. “This is not what I wanted. And it’s not my responsibility. You can’t barge in here and expect us to hang out like we used to. I don’t want you to go anywhere else because you’re drunk beyond belief but it can’t happen again.”

  “What if I convince you I’ve changed? Would you take me back then?”

  Jesse rolled his eyes, putting the roach in the ashtray and looking at Jon. “You haven’t changed.”

  “What if I could change? I would,” he said, stroking Jesse’s cheek with his finger. “I would do anything to get you back.”

  Jesse swallowed and exhaled loudly through his nose, closing his eyes while he did so. He thought about Jon, sitting there in front of him, smiling, crooked incisor and everything. He thought about Puck, sitting in front of him, yellow eyes wide, a small smile on his face.

  “Jesse?”

  Jesse opened his eyes. His eyes were a dark shade of blue. Intense. They were always intense. That was the word he would have used to describe them when they met and it was the word he would use to describe them now.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you forgive me? If I proved to you that I’m not that person anymore?”

  “Begging isn’t a good look on you,” Jesse replied. “And I may forgive you. It doesn’t mean I’d get back together with you. Maybe I’ve moved on.”

  Jon traced the outline of his face with his finger before tilting his chin up and kissing him. He smelled of weed and rum and Old Spice and he was pressing his lips hard against Jesse. He stroked Jesse’s cheek again before moving his hand up towards his hair and pulling it back, his head along with it.

  “Ouch,” Jesse said.

  “I’m not begging anymore,” Jon said before he started to put his teeth on Jesse’s neck and bit him lightly. “You still like this?”

  “It’s been like a month,” Jesse said.

  Jon nodded, breathing on him, sending a shiver down his spine. “But everything has changed. Aren’t you seeing someone?”

  Jesse shook his head. “I told you, I don’t know. Aren’t you?”

  “Say the words and I’m seeing you.” Jon licked Jesse’s neck and softly scratched his back. “And only you.”

  “Can we just not talk about it?”

  “Sure. We can just not talk about it. Take your shirt off.”

  Jesse did what Jon asked. He wasn’t Puck, but he needed someone. And Jon was safe. He was good in bed. He always left him satisfied. Mostly.

  He didn’t have much time to think before Jon was on top of him, kissing him, warm, sweaty hands all over his skin. Before he could process it, Jon was fumbling with his belt and scrambling to open his buttons. His tongue was in Jesse’s mouth. Jesse put his hand on Jon’s head, feeling his short hair, feeling his stubble tickling his face.

  Jon moved his face away from Jesse. Jesse opened his eyes. In the two years they were together, he had rarely taken a moment’s pause to do something like that. Jon kissed him softly on the lips. “I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot.”

  “You said we weren’t going to talk about it.” Jesse stroked Jon’s back, trying to bring him back to the moment. He was at his best when he was all instinct. That was exactly what Jesse needed, instinct. Not whatever this was.

  “Sorry,” Jon said, before sticking his tongue in Jesse’s mouth again and kissing him hungrily, passionately. He moved his hand down Jesse’s stomach and stopped short of actually touching him. Jesse groaned.

  Jon sighed. “Sorry. There’s just something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you more when I still had a chance.”

  Jesse shook his head, closing his eyes. “No. Don’t. Please.”

  “I love you,” Jon wrapped his long fingers around Jesse’s erection. “There. Okay? Isn’t that what you wanted? You wanted me to say it more often. So I’m saying it now. And I’ll say it every day from now until I die if you take me back.”

  “You’re just saying that.” Jesse tried to concentrate on Jon’s moving hand. “Because you think it’ll help.”

  “Will it?”

  Jesse swallowed. He was in a precarious position. He was about to explode. “Please. I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “What about me? Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” Jesse said. “Don’t.”

  “You love this, don’t you? You love feeling my hands on you. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Jesse said.

  “Yes, what?”

  Jesse shut his eyes tightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, Sir.”

  “I love you,” he whispered into Jesse’s ear. “And I know how you feel about me. Say it. Say you belong to me.”

  “Jon—”

  He tightened his grip on Jesse’s dick. “Say it. Say you belong to me.”

  Jesse sat up, pushing him back. “Jon, stop. Stop.”

  Jon let go of him. There were little beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. His nostrils were flared. And his hands were fists at his sides.

  Shit.

  Jesse knew that look.

  “Look, it’s nothing to do with you, okay? Just, things have happened and I’m not really in a good place for this right now. You aren’t either. So we should just stop,” Jesse said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Call it a night. Sleep it off. How does that sound?”

  “Like a bunch of bullshit,” Jon shouted. “You’re such a liar. You probably just wanted to get rid of me to fuck that kid.”

  “Jon, I never cheated on you. Look, let’s just stop this. We’re both drunk. It’s not going to turn out well.”

  “You’re such a fucking liar.” Jon’s face darkened when he spoke. “You said that this was all that you wanted from me and now I give it to you and you fucking spit it in my face. You think you can use people because you’re gorgeous but you can’t. I won’t let you.”
r />   Though he’d threatened him before, Jon’s fist had never made actual contact with his face. That’s would be why, when he looked back on what happened, Jesse thought that he was so slow to react. He didn’t get out of the way, didn’t even flinch. The right hook just caught him completely by surprise and he found himself unable to focus on anything as his head landed on the sofa.

  He tried to catch his breath but couldn’t manage it before a second blow landed on his side. The pain shot through his body and he curled up.

  The last thing he could recognize, before he passed out, was the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

  PART TWO – Puck

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Rayne glanced at her watch before looking up at Puck again. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, Puck. Look, there’s a calendar there. See? Today is the twelfth. A Saturday. Why?”

  Puck twisted his lips. Rayne put down her book and shook her head. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s nothing,” he shrugged and took a deep breath. “Jesse said he would be here today. But he doesn’t have to do anything. So I guess he’s not.”

  Rayne frowned. “What time did he say he would be here? It’s like ten in the morning.”

  “He didn’t. He just said Saturday.”

  “And he hasn’t called you?”

  Puck shook his head.

  “That’s weird,” Rayne said. “It’s not like him. Let me give him a call.”

  She took her cellphone out of her bag and play with it before she put it next to her ear. She frowned after a minute. She smiled at him but there were no wrinkles around her eyes.

  She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Why don’t we go for a drive? We can see what’s going on with Jesse. Maybe he just fell asleep or something.”

  Puck remained silent.

  “He wouldn’t just not show, Puck,” Rayne said.

  “Why not?”

  “You’ll have to ask him,” she replied, standing up. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Puck stood behind Rayne as she rapped on Jesse’s door. Under the force of her knock, it creaked and opened a few inches. Puck frowned. Jesse usually made it a point to keep the door locked. Apparently, it was a bad neighborhood or something. Someone had already stolen his bike. Puck didn’t ask what a bike was, but regardless, Jesse had seemed annoyed when talking about it.

  Rayne paled and her knocking got louder. “Jesse? Jesse, are you in there?”

  Puck shook his head and walked past her, pushing the door with his open palm. He scanned the room for signs of Jesse. It was less clean than usual. There were glasses on the coffee table and the breakfast bar and the place smelled of something he couldn’t quite identify. The sofa was tilted slightly. And where was Jesse? He stepped forward to look into Jesse’s room, but stopped when something caught the corner of his eye.

  He turned around before he could process what he was seeing. Jesse, limp, on the floor, in his socks and underwear. His face was turned away, facing the sofa.

  “Jesse?”

  Puck’s voice was quieter than he expected it to be. Rayne walked in behind him, gasped, and then ran towards Jesse. She knelt down next to him.

  “Jesse? Can you hear me?”

  Jesse's skin was marked with red and green, his cheek protruded. Dry blood was caked between his lips and his nose. His breathing was ragged. Puck nodded, though it was almost imperceptible. Jesse’s hands rested at his sides, his finger convulsing.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know,” Rayne said. “His pulse is thready. Stay there. Don’t touch him. I’m calling an ambulance.”

  She stood up and took her phone out of her purse. Puck thought about what she’d said. She was helping him. She was helping Jesse. And any other time, he wouldn’t have hesitated to stay put, doing exactly what she asked. She had also said that he could do whatever he wanted, and what he wanted was to go to Jesse, to make sure that he was safe.

  He practically ran towards him before kneeling down next to him.

  “Jesse,” he said. He touched the ends of Jesse’s fingertips with his own, just barely, and tried to concentrate on Jesse’s moving sides. He was breathing. And the healers would be here soon. Jesse’s eyes fluttered opened lightly as the electrical current surged between their fingers.

  “Puck,” Jesse said, barely opening his mouth. He coughed and turned onto his side, holding his stomach. He held fast to Puck’s hand.

  His heart raced as he tried to concentrate on Jesse’s face, trying to make out any of his features under the pulpy, bloody mess. Despite his attempt to control his breathing, he was struggling, and he was suddenly really aware of the fact that he seemed unable to take a full breath. The only warm part of him was his hand. The rest was cold, really cold, like ice going through his veins. He tried to focus on Jesse’s eyes, which were now open, but his vision was fading and becoming blurry behind a wall of stinging tears. He had heard of people crying before.

  He couldn’t see well and it felt like the walls were moving, surrounding him, and he was sure, for a second, that he wouldn’t be able to fight his way out no matter what.

  He heard Jesse from far away, as if the walls were being built around him. His voice wasn’t very strong, but he could still hear him clearly. “Puck?”

  He swallowed, falling backwards and scrambling to hold himself up with his hands. He wasn’t touching Jesse anymore. He wasn’t sure what was happening to his body. Every sensation was magnified. His heart was pounding as thought someone had reached inside him and squeezed it hard. He could hardly breathe. The more he tried, the more it felt like couldn’t quite take a deep breath, like his lungs weren’t filling up enough. It made him try to breathe even faster.

  “Puck?” Jesse asked, struggling to talk.

  He exhaled. “That’s not my name,” he said. “That’s not my name.”

  Feeling someone’s touch on his shoulder startled him.

  He looked up to see Rayne standing over him. Her mouth compressed to a straight line. “Come on. They’ll be here soon.”

  He was only vaguely aware of her grabbing his hand, helping him steady himself as he got onto his feet, wobbling while he did.

  “Sit down,” she said, moving him onto the sofa and guiding his shoulder with her hand.

  “It’s not my name,” he said again.

  “Okay, sweetheart. The ambulance will be here soon. I think you’re having a panic attack.” She put her arm around him and rubbed his back up and down. “Just take a deep breath. Okay? And then exhale through your mouth.”

  He nodded, trying so as she instructed, but found himself unable to do so.

  Jesse's eyes were still open, though he seemed to be struggling. Jesse looked right at him, finally, with what seemed to be left of his energy.

  “It’s Taln,” he said, shivering and hugging himself.

  “What?” Rayne said.

  “My name,” he replied. “It’s Taln.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Beneath the glowing lighting people's faces look unfriendly, less willing to smile inside the walls. He couldn’t blame them. Ever since he had what Rayne had called a panic attack, he was unable to stop himself from pacing around the hallway, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted down. He knew he looked like a stereotype because he had seen this before, on television, but he couldn’t help it.

  Rayne tapped her foot on the floor. “Sit down.”

  “I can’t,” he continued pacing.

  “Fine,” she said. “Then I’ll walk with you. Come on. Let’s go to the vending machine.”

  Rayne walked beside to him. He tried to read her expression, but he wasn’t able to get anything from her. She stopped next to the colorful vending machine and searched through her bag for change.

  “You need something sweet,” she said. “Your blood sugar is probably low. Here.”

  She leaned down and grabbed two crinkly red packets of candy, handing one of th
em to him. He watched her open it and then mirrored her movements. He put the sweet chocolate in his mouth, letting the candy coat his tongue and the sides of it, trying to enjoy the rush that usually came from earth’s sweetest food. But the taste made him feel a bit sick instead and he looked at Rayne, asking her for an explanation without saying a word.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know anything yet.”

  He nodded. Rayne threw her arms around him and held him close. Jesse had given him hugs before, but they hadn’t been like this. This wasn’t confusing. It didn’t excite him. It just didn’t make him feel alone. He buried his face in Rayne’s shoulder. She smelled of honey. “I’m sorry.”

  Rayne moved away from him, still holding his shoulders. “Sorry for what?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  “Look, Puc—Taln. That’s your name, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Taln, you couldn’t have done anything. Even if you had been there, we don’t know what happened. For all you know, you would have been hurt as well. This isn’t something you can take responsibility for.”

  “If I had been there, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “You can’t know that,” she replied. “Plus, it probably looked a lot worse than it was. He’s in good hands. Just try not to worry, okay?”

  She seemed to expect an answer, he just wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

  She sighed. “Come on. Let’s go sit, please. You’re driving me insane.”

  “His head is okay,” Peter, the doctor, said. He sat down next to Rayne and squeezing her hand. “He didn’t break his jaw, so that’s good. Broke a couple of teeth, though. And his nose.”

  Rayne squeezed his hand. “Will he need surgery?”

  “Nothing major, I don’t think. He was lucky. Hey, Puck, are you okay?”

  Taln watched Rayne shake her head slightly. He didn’t know how to answer. Rayne and Peter exchanged a look before he smiled at Taln. “He’s still in some pain, but you should be able to see him soon.”