Luca scrubbed his face. Now all he needed to do was stand up. Luca’s muscles trembled with the effort to push to his feet. The fatigue was too deep to be from last night and too familiar. Then the nausea made its appearance right on cue. His throat convulsed, and he dove for the bathroom.
The second round sent him to his knees next to the toilet.
Tears burned Luca’s eyes, and saliva rolled down his chin. He spit between heaves that produced nothing but a backache.
The worst tapered off, and he sat back on his heels.
At least it hadn’t been as bad as he’d experienced before, but he definitely wasn’t going to be eating any breakfast no matter how much Nox complained.
The shower sat less than two feet away, yet Luca seriously considered lying down right there beside the toilet and staying.
He slumped. Dried cum cracked in the creases of his stomach. More caked the back of his thighs.
Luca braced a hand on the toilet seat and pulled himself up. The room tipped, and he closed his eyes for a moment, and the sensation of swaying back and forth subsided. He made his way into the shower, using the stall wall for support.
Water pooled around the drain. At least Nox had gotten the water turned on. And hopefully the water heater too.
Luca flipped the lever. He held his fingers under the spray. The cool water turned warm but never hot. It would have to do. He stepped under the showerhead.
Cold radiated through the floor and through the walls of the cabin warring against the pitiful warmth and winning fast.
Luca used a bar of motel soap left behind by Nox to scrub clean.
Shivers racked his frame. If Nox had been there, not even an arctic wind could have gotten through. Against his skin, under his touch, Luca did nothing but burn.
Where was Nox?
Beyond the spray of water, the cabin remained quiet.
He could have gone to get them something to eat or gas up.
Another round of nausea swept over Luca. He curled under the spray, his knees threatening to fold. Like the fever, this too was familiar ground.
And Luca hated it because now it meant more than dying: it meant losing Nox.
The nausea eased enough for him to run the bar of soap over his head and rinse.
He turned off the water. Droplets traced his path to the duffle bag sitting near the sleeping bags. Beyond the narrow walls of the shower stall, the air turned bitter. He retrieved a towel and dried off as fast as he could, then dressed in layers of a shirt, sweater, then sweatshirt. He wished he had long underwear, but at least the sweatpants were thick.
There were no clean socks. He used the dirty ones he’d worn last night and stuffed his feet into his shoes. Luca put on his coat and even pulled the hood.
Under layers of fabric, the cold lingered just enough to make his teeth chatter.
As uncomfortable as this was, he’d gladly take it over the nothing of death. Anything, even this crappy cabin with no heat and lukewarm shower was at least life. And honestly, if Luca could be with Nox, would he need anything else?
He laughed a little, and a tear slipped down his cheek.
At least he was happy. No matter how insane all this was, how impossible, how terrifying, Luca was oddly content with a strange mix of peace and love.
Had there been enough time to fall in love with Nox?
It had to be the circumstances, but he didn’t care.
Because he didn’t havetimeto care.
Luca stepped out on the porch. The outside air held last night’s chill, but the sun warmed the dark fabric of his jacket, beating back the cold lingering under his skin. The van was still where Nox had left it.
A lake glittered beyond the sparse trees. Deer tracks crossed the muddy road. Squirrels fought over food dug up from winter stores.