Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume
got bigger problems right now. You need to triage whatever crisis, existential thought, personal deconstruction, rediscovery of self, is going on in your head. Save it for later."
Daren stared at him, not blinking, hardly even breathing. After about thirty seconds, Sebastian began to quietly panic. Then Daren blinked. "Okay."
"Okay." Sebastian hopped out of bed before there could be any more discussion. "I'll get cleaned up and make breakfast."
The conversation for the rest of the day was kept to pretty much a minimum, without being cold or angry. Rather, it seemed more a continuation of the "we're men, we don't need to talk about the fact that we rubbed off on each other" status quo.
It was only after dinner when Daren decided to break from routine by requesting a lap around the living room without his cane.
"Are you sure?" Sebastian asked. They'd pushed pretty hard before lunch.
"Yeah." Daren took a deep breath and pushed himself up from the table. Sebastian went to his side as Daren leaned most of his weight onto his left knee before taking a step. The steps were slow, Daren carefully placing his feet to try to find a way to walk with minimal pain while at the same time refusing to limp. He even swung his arms like he was taking a summer stroll, just in slow motion. He kept his chin up and his eyes ahead.
He made a full lap, but Sebastian could see the pain starting to get to him. There were little tremors in his jaw, and his hands were balled into fists. He started to blink rapidly as the sweat began to bead on his forehead. He made it another half lap around to the sofa.
"Enough." Sebastian took his arm. "You're going to make it worse." He guided Daren down to the couch. Daren pressed a couple of fingers to his neck, feeling his own pulse.
"I'm so fucking out of shape."
"You're going to be more out of shape if you reinjure yourself and are stuck back in bed for another month." Daren flexed his knee and gave a hiss. "I'll go get the ice pack."
By the time he got back, Daren had flipped on the TV but kept it on mute. It was showing some reality TV show with some little primped-up blond thing. She was shopping for diamond-encrusted sunglasses with a tiny dog shaking under her arm.
He laid the ice pack across Daren's knee. "Do you know her?"
"Oh yes."
"Is she really like that?" She was modeling handbags that matched the sunglasses.
"I'm sad to say, yes. That is pretty much what you get." The look on Daren's face was one of complete horror.
"You slept with her, didn't you?"
"Yeah." Daren managed to drag out the word until it had four syllables. The girl was done shopping and was now dancing at some club. Daren leaned towards the TV and squinted at the screen. "I was at that party. I remember them filming."
"Looks like fun."
"Only after a lot of Ecstasy. And a dozen drinks." The camera swung around to a random group of partiers. In the background, on a table top, a bleached blond with spiked hair was dancing indecently against an almost life-sized ice sculpture of some ancient Greek god. Daren fell into absolute hysterics, holding his sides and shaking long after the show had gone to commercials.
"How much Ecstasy did you take?"
Daren just shook his head, unable to speak through the giggles. Like the tears before, Daren would start to calm down, then glance at the TV, and the laughter would ramp back up again.
The show was almost to its second commercial break by the time Daren got himself under control.
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah. They say it's good to be able to laugh at yourself, right?"
"So I hear."
Daren flicked off the TV. "Everyone should have to watch themselves dirty dance with an ice sculpture on national television. It can very rapidly change your perspective on life."
"Change in a good or bad way?"
"Um… To be determined." Daren grabbed the ice pack and started to push himself up.
Sebastian looped an arm around him to help. "Time for bed?"
"Time for a couple of Tylenol. Then bed."
"That can be arranged."
****
CHAPTER 7
Daren had already dozed off when Sebastian made it to bed, crawling onto freshly cleaned sheets. He'd gone online and found that episode of the reality show was a rerun. There were plenty of clips available where Gerald Delaware was in the background of some party or talking with some of the girls the show was about. In nearly every clip, there was a slightly glazed, drugged look in his eyes. His laughter was sharp and often sounded cruel, as it was always at
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