Broken (24 page)

It’s like he’s flipped a switch in my brain, sending me from calm to pissed off as hell in a nanosecond. When he’s in
my
home, I consider it
his
space, too. “Then send them back,” I snap. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about than a hissy fit over fucking furniture.”

“Right. Like the business failing.
More
reason why you shouldn’t be wasting your money on stuff I don’t need.”

He
does
need it, but clearly it’s not my place, as his fucking
partner
, to interfere. “It’s not failing.” My tone is acidic and I’m sure my expression isn’t too friendly either. “And even if it was it’s none of your concern.”

“Of course it is. We’re a couple.”

“Only when it suits
you
, evidently.”

Standing, Theodore huffs and strides over to the other side of the room. “Now
you’re
being ridiculous.”

“Am I? If I’m so ridiculous why don’t you just leave?”

“Leave?”

“Yes. My office, my life…just
go
.”

“Don’t be so stupid.”

“So I’m stupid now, too?”

“I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. Stop being a dick, James.”

I’m not sure how or why this argument occurred, but I’m vibrating with anger and I can’t control it. I
know
I’m not being fair. I
know
I’m pushing him away. But I can’t stop it.

“Look,” he begins, his voice soft and gentle as he walks back towards me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come in here to argue with you.”

When he closes in I stand from my chair, keeping distance between us. “Yes you did. You’re angry with me and you wanted me to know it.”

“I’m not angry with you.”

“
Liar!
” I spit, closing the gap between our bodies. “You’re angry and now you’re backing down because you don’t want to push me too far. You’re pussyfooting around me just like you
always
do. You think I’m unstable and it scares you.”

“James…” he tries to interrupt but I ignore him.

“What’s the matter? Huh?” With the palms of my hands, I shove him in the chest. “Are you scared I’m going to break? Snap?
Hurt
you? Come on, Theodore, be a fucking man and give it to me straight!”

“Stop it.”

“You’re angry!
Be
fucking angry! Stop being afraid of me and tell me how you feel!” I jab him again and he stumbles back a step. “Tell me dammit! Shout. Yell. Be fucking mad at me for once!”

“
No
.” Turning his back and stalking away, he remains calm, which pisses me off even further. “I relented because I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t like arguing, not because your reaction scares me, but because I fucking
love
you. Don’t start throwing your illness around because that’s
no
excuse for talking to me like I’m a piece of shit, and I
won’t
put up with that from you.”

I knew this moment would come eventually.

You’re overreacting. Apologise.

“Finally,” I say, exhaling a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll drop anything of yours from my house at your workstation tomorrow.”

“
What?
”

“You’re done, right? Good. Because so am I.”

“Don’t be-”

Enough now. Stop it. He’s not done anything wrong.

“Stupid? Ridiculous? Come on, Theodore, tell me what you really think.”

“I’m not leaving you. I never implied that.”

“Yeah? Well I’m leaving
you
!”

Stomping to my office door, I unhook my jacket from the hook and toss it over my shoulder. With my hand covering the doorknob, Theodore attempts to stop me but I drag myself out of his grip and yank the door open so forcefully it bangs into the wall.

Searing rage floods my veins as I storm out of the building. I don’t know why I’m so angry, but I’ve lost charge of my emotions and I don’t know how to get it back, or if I even can.

Twenty minutes later, I find myself in my apartment, not remembering how I got here. I head straight to the bathroom, hoping a bath will relax me enough to think clearly again. I sit in the steaming water for thirty minutes or so, my mind tormenting me the whole time. By the time I’m standing in the kitchen debating whether to make coffee, dressed only in a towel, I loathe myself, and my life.

Staring at my marred body in the bathtub disgusted me.

I’m ugly.

Selfish.

Unreasonable.

Theodore won’t admit it but he
is
mad at me, and so he should be. Not over the furniture, but at the kind of person I am. Maybe he doesn’t realise it yet but how I acted in the office is who I am. We simply haven’t been together long enough for him to know there will be plenty more of that in our future. I’m unstable. I push people away. He deserves better than that, better than
me
.

Say Something
by A Great Big World trickles from the speakers in my iPod dock and I crank up the volume in an effort to distract myself from the ballooning anger in my chest. At least, I tell myself it’s a distraction, but I know damn well I’m purposely torturing myself. This playlist is a collection of trigger songs for me, songs that amplify the misery strangling my heart. These are the songs I used to listen to when I cut myself, or when life started getting good and I needed to bring myself down before I learned to enjoy it. These are the songs that remind me what a fucked-up bastard I am…and
that
is why I pressed play. I
need
reminding before I convince myself that I can be good enough for Theodore.

As the lyrics pour into my ears I can’t help but smile at the irony. If only I
could
say something, maybe then I won’t push him to the point where he has no choice but to walk away.

Because I
will
.

I don’t plan to throw the mug I’m holding and the action doesn’t register until I hear it smash against the wall. The balloon has burst and a powerful urge to destroy everything in sight overwhelms me. Flattening my forearm against the granite surface, I send everything on the counter crashing to the floor in one swift movement.

Spinning on my heels, I kick the fridge, pain shooting up my toes and into my foot. The pain is the least I deserve, so I do it again, and again, before ripping open the cupboards and dragging the contents out with my fist. Finally, my strength weakening, I punch several dents into the wall before sliding down against it and curling into a ball on top of the scene of destruction that mirrors the inside of my head.

“James?”

I think I hear my name but I’m sobbing so violently there’s every possibility I imagined it.

“James?”

Arms wrap around my shivering body and I don’t realise how cold I am until I feel the warmth of Theodore’s skin penetrate mine. “James, talk to me.”

I will my mouth to open, to explain that I’m so engulfed in pain I feel like I’m dying, but it won’t. The sobs slowly wane as Theodore’s hands smooth over my naked skin but silent tears continue to roll mournfully down my cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he whispers in my ear, his breath caressing my flesh like a blanket. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

“It hurts, Theodore,” I croak, the words splitting on my lips. “Hurts so fucking much.”

Palming my cheeks, he twists my face until I’m looking at him. “Where?” he asks, his expression contorted with concern and confusion. “Are you injured?”

“My head, my chest…it hurts.” I’m not sure if I’ve said the words aloud and part of me hopes I haven’t. I don’t want him to know. He shouldn’t be here, see me like this…but I can’t seem to pull myself together and move.

He uncurls himself from my naked body, my towel is missing, and my skin mourns the loss of his warmth by shivering.

Linking my arm at the elbow, he tugs gently. “Can you stand?”

In my head, I nod, but the action doesn’t materialise. Using his arm for support, I pull myself up until I’m standing, head down, eyes fixed on the littered floor.

Slowly, he leads me over to the living room, and every step I take is an effort. Being alive is an effort. Every minute feels like an hour, every day like a month.

I’m so tired.

Theodore stops by the couch. “Look at me, James,” he says, his hands resting tentatively on my shoulders.

I don’t. I
can’t
.

“
Please
,” he adds, his voice a desperate whisper as he places one finger under my chin, encouraging my head to rise.

Reluctantly, my gaze lands on his face, my vision hazy through the cloud of tears. “Take it away, Theodore.”

I don’t realise what I’m begging for until his tender lips graze mine. “I don’t know how.”

Tracing the edge of his lips with my tongue, I plead with him. “Make me forget.”

Unsure, he kisses me softly, absorbing my pain, distracting me. Initially, I’m frozen, but when his tongue dips between my lips I melt into him, moulding my hands to the back of his head.

Mouths fused together, I blindly unbutton his shirt and roll it over his shoulders, pulling him into me, skin to skin. I can feel his heart thumping against the walls of his chest, as fast and erratically as my own and I press my hand against it, losing myself in the rhythm.

My heart beats.

I’m alive.

“I-I’m sorry,” Theodore murmurs, breaking our kiss.

“No,” I beg, touching my nose to his. “Take it away.
Please
, if only for a little while. I need this. Need
you
.”

A single tear balances on his cheek and I kiss it away before burying my nose in his neck, inhaling the unique scent of him that never fails to calm me. Reaching between our bodies, I smooth my palms down his chest until they land on his buckle and I unfasten it before starting on his pants.

Falling to my knees, I bring his trousers with me and hover my mouth in front of his hard cock, while rubbing my palms up and down the back of his thighs. The muscles in his legs are strong and sculpted, despite him neglecting his running of late, and I relish the firmness under my fingers as I wrap my mouth around his swollen head.

“God, James…”

Every word, every moan that leaves Theodore’s lips heals my fractured soul a little more. It won’t last, of course, as a voice in my head continues to remind me, but I don’t stop trying to push those thoughts away. I focus on Theodore, the feel of him in my mouth, the taste on my tongue, the sounds trickling from his throat…

Until he pulls back and falls to his knees in front of me.

“I don’t know how to help you,” he whispers, pain creasing his forehead as he rests it on mine.

“Make love to me, Theodore.”

Raising his head, eyes a little wider, he studies my face. “You mean…”

“Yes,” I breathe. “I want to feel you inside me. I
need
you.”

He replies with actions, cupping both sides of my neck and caressing my lips with the gentlest of kisses. His fingertips sear my flesh as he runs them down my chest, making me forget everything and everyone else in the world. His touch is all I can think about, and when he kisses his way down to my cock, I’m just a regular guy, a
normal
guy, aching to be taken by the man I love.

“I love you, Theodore,” I admit for the first time, my voice a breathy whisper.

“James, you don’t have to”-

“I mean it. I love that you’re here, that you’re trying to understand. I love your smile…” I run my finger across his lips. “Your laugh. I even love the little creases in your forehead when you’re pissed off with me. Just an hour ago I was suffocating, and now, with your skin on mine, I can breathe.”

“James,” he murmurs.

Placing one finger over his lips, I hush him. “I
love
you.” It’s probably the most honest, yet also the most selfish, thing I’ve ever said.

Sensing his hesitancy, I lie down on the floor, the thick rug soft under my back, and guide his hand to my cock. Locking my fingers over his, I slide his grip up and down my shaft, our gazes never parting.

Bending, Theodore peppers kisses across my chest, over my scars, over my heart, and I let go of all the hurt I felt just minutes ago. My pulse pounds in my throat, my breath catches, and when his lips land on my balls I lose all sense of who I am.

And it’s beautiful.

“I love you,” I whisper, arching my back and forcing myself into his mouth. “I love you.”

Now I’ve said it once, I can’t seem to stop repeating it. I need him to know, to
believe
, to
feel
it.