Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

stayed, I wouldn't have turned out so fucked up, huh?" he says, but there's no anger there.
    He rubs at his eyes, reminds himself that he needs some water. His body feels heavy as he puts himself through the motions of cleaning his tools.
    By the time he's done, he can't be bothered to go back to the house. Picking up his iPod, he grabs the blanket and pillow he'd stashed in the backseat of the car— it's where he'd fallen asleep the night before— and switches off the lights.
    The morning light filters in, pale and water-like through the windows above the garage door, stretching across the roof like a lick of blue.
    Jace plunks himself down by the wall opposite the canvas, turning on his music and settling down. Just catch a bit of shut eye before he finishes cleaning everything up. He can crash in bed later.
    He falls asleep to the start of a slow rock song, eyes drifting closed on the image he's created and wakes up to a feather light touch rubbing gently at the skin beneath his eyes. First one, then the other. His feet are cold from where they're poking out of the blanket. His left shoulder aches, the surface he's lying on unyielding.
    The brush comes again and he wrinkles his nose, shaking his head a little and jerking his head away. He wants to bat it away but it's warm under the blanket and he tucks his knees closer and buries his face deeper into his pillow, feels sleep infused irritation when he realizes that his hair has gotten caught in the corner of his mouth.
    The touch stops. He hears a sigh.
    "I couldn't tell this was what you were making before."
    Cam.
    He stills. He's glad he's lying down, glad that he's still foggy with sleep because the relief is overwhelming, and he feels sick all over again.
    He hadn't realized how much he'd been expecting to get to Friday and find that Cam wasn't coming.
    He takes a moment to calm himself, turns his face into the pillow and holds his breath a moment as he takes this in. He feels his hair slip across his face, tickling against his jaw. Cam stays quiet beside him, calm as anything, not looking to rush. So Jace opens his eyes and tilts his head back and looks up at him.
    Cam's sitting cross-legged on the floor, back hunched over, eyes on the canvas.
    Jace clears his throat. "You like it?"
    Cam nods. "You're good, Jace."
    Despite everything, despite him not feeling ready for this at all, he smiles. It's a quiet smile, but it feels nice and he closes his eyes, lets his head rest back. "Of course."
    "Jace?"
    "Yeah?"
    "How long?"
    "How long, what?" But he knows what Cam's asking. He blinks his eyes open and stares up at the ceiling. The light from outside has changed, having slipped from the roof to the wall, a sunset orange. He wonders if it's really that late.
    Cam sighs and shifts, drawing his knees up, tennis shoes scraping over the floor, before he wraps his arms around his knees, clasping one hand over a strong wrist. He glances down at Jace and his face is shadowed. They're too low for the sunlight to touch them, leaving them in cool shadow. He wonders how long Cam's been sitting there. The new position distracts Jace for a moment, drawing his eyes to the strip of skin bared where his T-shirt's ridden up, Cam's belt not quite enough to keep the jeans from slipping lower even though the fit is perfect.
    He lets his eyes roam, taking in how the denim molds tight around Cam's thighs. He thinks he knows how it'd feel under his hand. Pressed against his balls while he rubs his dick against Cam's hip, just over that mole.
    "Jace."
    He pulls his eyes away from the strip of skin and slowly sits up, can't quite ignore the way his dick feels a little heavier, fuller against his shorts. But he sits up anyway and then scoots back until he's sitting with his back to the wall, his knee bumping against Cam's, their shoulders almost touching. He doesn't protest when Cam snatches up the blanket, pulling it over his head like a hood and arranging it around his shoulders before settling back, bunching it together against his chest so it doesn't slip away. He makes himself comfortable, slouching a little lower down. He leans his head against Jace's shoulder. Jace knows this is Cam settling down, ready to wait as long as he has to.
    So after a few seconds of savoring it, the weight of Cam resting against him, not tense, not waiting for his brother to make a move or something. Just resting against him, like they would before. The type of physical closeness they'd needed from each