“Every seven years, all the cells in our body are replaced with brand new ones.” He said, dragging the pad of his finger over the wide wings of the phoenix on my arm. “It’s kind of nice, isn’t it? To know one day I’ll have a body he never bruised?”
Christ.
Sebastian had spent too long wondering if he was raised without love or if he was just born someone who didn’t deserve it.
“Your father is heartless, Sebastian, full of all the wrong feelings. He insulted you, scarred you, broke you again and again and then expected you to respect him and act as if he deserved it.Fuck no.He deserves nothing.”
Sebastian’s finger paused in its perusal of the bird I’ve named him after. He shifted where he lay across my bare chest, his cheek pillowed against my shoulder. Hair fell across his eyes in a sleepy, adorable sort of way and though his vision was compromised, I never felt like he couldn’t truly see me.
“He cried at Foster’s funeral, did you know that? I had to stand in the very back, all alone and watch my father give a speech about a kid he didn’t actually know. It was an almost believable performance, fit with phony prop tears and a box of cheap tissues. He shouldn’t get to cry for Foster’s death, not when he did nothing for him in life.” He made a noise. “I’ll bet that’s what he does at my funeral.”
Hisfuneral?
“Excuse me? Are you planning on taking a quick trip to the afterlife without me?”
“I just always thought that's what would happen. I’d die, and he’d bury me in the woods next to my mother to be forgotten about. Another bird, another day.”
“There are no days without you, sweetheart. None.”
His lips curved upward. “I think I believe that now, and I think maybe I’ll be the one athisfuneral, a stream of fake tears on my cheeks. But I wouldn’t bury him next to my mother. I’d toss him in the river or throw him off a cliff. Maybe I’d turn his ashes into fireworks and watch him blow.”
“Morbid… I like it.”
Me too.
A yawn tore through him, his legs seizing against mine. He grunted when he flung himself on top of me, kicking the sheets until my skin was the only thing he felt. “Your bed is the comfiest of all the beds. I never want to leave.”
“So, let’s not leave.”
“We’ll be mattress people.” He decided. “We’ll eat here, watch horrible television, and touch each other inappropriately.”
A laugh burst free of my chest.
Hell.
I wanted to fuck him breathless, and then turn around and cook for him. I wanted to leave bite marks across his neck but make sure he was emotionally stable.
“Would you like me to fetch you the remote?”
He slapped both palms on my chest. Anoomphleft him when he dragged himself to a seated position on my lap and wiggled his little hips around until he was comfortable.
My dick nearly punched out of my briefs.
“When do you have to leave?”
I frowned. “Where am I going?”
“To work? You know, the place where you earn a living so you can afford the loveliest mattresses and the best snacks.”
“Yeah, I’m not going back there, and neither are you.”
His lips parted before they closed again. Head cocked, he stared at a spot on the wall, the shutters in his eyes slamming closed. A quivering hand flew upward and wrapped around his throat. I saw the cords there tighten, and it dawned on me that his voice had left him.
“Hey.” I sat up, knees bent, one arm around his waist. I captured his cheek in my palm, sweeping my thumb across the shadowed rays of morning sun. It was peeking just slightly through my bedroom curtains, and I don’t think he noticed how drawn he was to the warmth.
I saw it last night, in the way he gravitated toward the window seat in my living room and the kitchen chair that sat parallel to a set of glass doors. Even as he crawled in my bed, wrapping himself in my skin and my sheets, he kept the curtains wide open, watching the sun until it disappeared.
“Sebastian, baby, it’s okay. This is going to happen sometimes.”