The bookstore felt different. On a normal day, Ferris could find comfort in the walls of hardcovers, the texture of paper under his fingers, and the muted rustling of pages. There was always something new was he was bored, something old when he needed a fix of nostalgia.<\/p>\n
Demos had said more than once that Ferris smelled like this place. Like mahogany and coffee. Hints of old paper and leather armchairs. Maybe he spent too much time here. But today, it wasn\u2019t bringing the comfort it normally did. He was pacing the aisles with slow, hesitant steps.<\/p>\n
Ferris had no idea how this was supposed to work. Everything had changed, or it was supposed to have. Should he have been talking to Demos differently\u2014treating him differently? He\u2019d suddenly become hyper-aware of how much time they spent together. There wasn\u2019t anything to worry about before. There was nothing suspicious about two friends being friends.<\/p>\n
But they weren\u2019t just friends anymore.<\/p>\n
Ferris was doing it again, smiling alone in public for no obvious reason. In a bookstore, of all places. He couldn\u2019t help it, even if it made him look a little\u2014off.<\/p>\n
One thing was definitely different: Demos had been touching him a lot more. He\u2019d been standing closer, lacing their fingers that much tighter. Demos would press against him, chest to hip, laying a kiss on the corner of his jaw, and\u2014<\/p>\n
Ferris could tell he was turning red. Again, in public. Maybe staring harder at this wall of books would help. His finger tapped the spine of a bound volume, slipping it out halfway to glimpse at the cover. Infectious Diseases of the 16<\/i>th<\/sup><\/i><\/span> Century<\/i>. Okay, maybe this was the wrong section. Why was his face still so hot?<\/p>\n That shameless memory\u2014it always stopped there. Right at the kiss on his jaw. Panic would seize all the way from his stomach to his throat and he\u2019d pull back. Step away. Make an excuse. \u201cI\u2019m going to be late for work.\u201d \u201cI\u2019d better answer this text.\u201d<\/i> And that look on Demos\u2019 face\u2014that quiet, empty look. It killed Ferris every time.<\/p>\n Demos didn’t talk about it, but he didn\u2019t need to. He had experience, to say the least. Ferris could count his intimate partners on one hand, and every one of them had been women. But Demos\u2014he knew what he was doing. He\u2019d probably seen it all. From garden-variety to profound. He knew what felt good, what didn\u2019t. What he liked\u2014what other men<\/i> liked.<\/p>\n Ferris drew a hand over his face. He hadn\u2019t felt this naive, this incompetent,<\/i> since high school. After all this, the years of stupid, stupid<\/i> pining, that moment in the park, in the car. All for it to come crashing down after Demos would eventually blurt, \u201cOh my God. You\u2019re really bad at this.\u201d<\/i> Or something like that. Then he\u2019d say, \u201cThis was a mistake.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n Wouldn\u2019t he?<\/p>\n Ferris dropped his hand from the shelf. Right. He was looking for a different kind of book. A different section. One he hadn\u2019t browsed before. Where the hell was it, anyway? He snuck into the next aisle like some kind of gauche burglar, scanning the little white signs that indicated what niche he\u2019d ended up in this time. Psychology & Counseling.<\/i> Not quite. Gay & Lesbian<\/i>. Okay.<\/p>\n There had to be something here. He covered his mouth with a hand, peering at each book spine. There was one, on the fourth shelf from the floor. Going Both Ways: A Guide<\/i>. Maybe this would\u2014?<\/p>\n Ferris closed his eyes tight. A book, really? A fucking book? This was how he planned on coming through for Demos? Maybe he should have done this online. But no\u2014he had to support this local bookstore<\/i>. It was the right thing to do.<\/p>\n Or\u2014maybe it was time to just go home.<\/p>\n No.<\/i> He was an adult. He could look at one damn book. Ferris opened his eyes, then reached up to slide the paperback free.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, hey Ferris,\u201d came a voice at his side.<\/p>\n The book slapped back into place and his hand jerked away as if it had touched fire. With an inhale that was much too sharp, he turned to see a familiar face. Sandy. From work.<\/p>\n \u201cUh\u2014hi,\u201d Ferris said. Shit, he was sweating. \u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLooking for books,\u201d Sandy said with a raised brow. \u201cI think that\u2019s what most people are doing here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHaha, yeaaah<\/i>.\u201c Ferris was 100% certain his smile looked unhinged.<\/p>\n \u201cYou feeling okay?\u201d she said. \u201cYou\u2019re not going to take another two weeks off, are you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh. Sorry. I was\u2014taking care of someone. A sick family member\u2014\u201c He swallowed. \u201cWho was sick.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, that\u2019s what I heard. Are they feeling better?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMhm,\u201d Ferris said. His fingers were digging into the back of his own neck. \u201cThanks for covering for me. I\u2019ll make it up to you\u2014anything you need.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure about that? \u2018Cause I will<\/i> make you do my weekly audit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, sure<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n By the time Sandy was gone, Ferris had somehow dug himself into three extra projects at the office plus a month of account audits. Sure. That was fine. Everything was fine. Ferris looked back at the shelf. With a sigh, he pulled the book down. Might as well.<\/p>\n Demos was right\u2014he really did overthink everything.<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n There was nothing charming about this alley. It was a narrow space behind the restaurant, half-blocked in by a box truck. Demos and Ferris were flanked by old trash cans and crates, red brick reaching up two stories and leaving the tight tract of pavement doused in shadow. This alley\u2014it would always be the place Ferris had first seen that body.<\/p>\n But at least they were alone.<\/p>\n It had been difficult to get time to themselves. Ferris\u2019 apartment usually had Seamus in it. The compound was full of every Giorgetti that had ever been born. Neither of them lived alone, and Demos had outright refused to go anywhere near a motel. For some reason.<\/p>\n And now they were standing in the alley. Demos had dragged him outside for a quick smoke. It was the same every winter\u2014he\u2019d light a cigarette with shuddering hands, moving to hug his own elbows against the cold. Scowling as he exhaled some combination of smoke and warm breath, the clouds rising and dissipating in the air.<\/p>\n \u201cYou cold?\u201d Ferris asked. He tried not to smile, but didn\u2019t succeed.<\/p>\n Demos puffed out a single plume. \u201cShut up.\u201d There was a keen orange glow in the dark as he inhaled. The smell of tobacco was muted. \u201cIs Seamus home tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe is.\u201d Ferris fisted his hands inside his coat pockets. \u201cShould we, uh\u2014tell him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019ll figure it out.\u201d Demos made a barely audible hum against the cigarette filter. His eyes flickered over. \u201cCan I ask you something?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWow, fuck you.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris shrugged. \u201cThat\u2019s what you get for asking if you can ask something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re my boyfriend\u2014\u201c Demos flicked his cigarette. \u201cYou should be nicer to me.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris hoped the violent flush that had surely crossed his face wasn\u2019t visible in the dark. Boyfriend. That was his new title, wasn\u2019t it? A promotion to a position he\u2019d pretended he didn\u2019t want. Better benefits. Jesus Christ. He adjusted his glasses, keeping his face averted toward the wall. \u201cFine\u2014yes. You can ask me something.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos stopped smoking just long enough to gnaw his lower lip. \u201cHow long have you\u2014wanted this?\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris took a moment to stifle his instinctual desire to respond with a flippant remark. It was something about the way Demos asked, about his voice. He sounded open. Vulnerable. And that question was just a little suspicious.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n Demos cast an impetuous smile in his direction. \u201cI need to know how much sex we have to make up for.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris could immediately feel his soul leaving his body. He wondered, if he dropped dead right in this alley, how long it would take for anyone to find his remains. Demos seemed to realize that this was not the right way to get a rational answer from his partner.<\/p>\n \u201cBut really,\u201d Demos said. \u201cHow long?\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris watched his own breath rising, racking his memory. How long had he wanted this? Probably forever. How long had he been aware<\/i> that he wanted this?<\/p>\n \u201cSince I came back,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cWhen I found you in that church\u2014when I held you. It all kind of just\u2014fell into place. Nothing had ever felt more right to me. I didn\u2019t want to let go.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos was looking down at his cigarette instead of smoking it. \u201cWhy didn’t you tell me?\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris huffed a laugh. \u201cYou\u2019re way out of my league. I thought if you saw me that way, you would have said something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut\u2014\u201c Demos narrowed his eyes. \u201cI thought you were straight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo did I?\u201d Ferris gave an apologetic shrug. \u201cBut what about you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBack when I came out to you, when I said I was into guys\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Those words ripped the ground out from under Ferris\u2019 feet. When he came out at the summer home in Long Island. In high school\u2014that was six years ago.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2014\u201c Demos pushed back some of his hair, which instantly fell back into place. \u201cI wanted, more than anything, for you to say \u2018me too<\/i>.\u2019 But you didn’t. I thought\u2014I hoped<\/i>, maybe you just needed time. But it never came.\u201d He paused to take a slow drag from his cigarette, then exhaled. \u201cSo I let it go. I mean, I tried to. Every time I thought I\u2019d moved on\u2014\u201c<\/span><\/p>\n Demos finally glanced back over. \u201cYou made me fall in love with you all over again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Shit<\/i>. There Ferris stood, the world\u2019s stupidest asshole. Six years. There was that familiar sick feeling, tangling up wherever his heart was supposed to be. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cGod<\/i>, I\u2019m an idiot.\u201d Ferris drew both hands to his forehead. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I felt\u2014something<\/i>. I just didn’t understand what it was.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201c<\/span>We\u2019re both idiots.\u201d Demos tapped ashes onto the pavement. \u201cSo, you\u2019re a numbers guy. How much fucking would you say equals about six years?\u201d<\/p>\n That was not an equation Ferris had ever been asked to process before. This was clearly Demos\u2019 way of punishing him. For being an idiot.<\/p>\n \u201cIf you\u2019re trying to embarrass me, it\u2019s working,\u201d Ferris said.<\/p>\n At this, Demos stepped closer. The scent of tobacco intensified as Demos draped both arms over Ferris\u2019 shoulders, clasping his hands at the back of his neck.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know, I did try to tell you.\u201d Demos pulled him closer, speaking only inches from his lips. \u201cA few times.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris leaned in just enough to bump Demos\u2019 forehead. \u201cAnd how many of those times were you drunk or grievously injured?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cUh\u2014\u201c Demos glanced sideways. \u201cAll of them?\u201d<\/p>\n The side door opened with a creak. The two shoved apart in a frantic split second, spinning to face whoever had just stepped out.<\/p>\n \u201cAre you going to stand out here smoking all night, or are you going to close up?\u201d It was Victor, one hand in his pocket and the other holding a black trash bag.<\/p>\n Demos tucked his hair once more, making a poor attempt to hide the rush of heat to his face. \u201cI thought Emily was closing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe has an exam tomorrow.\u201d Victor dropped the bag into a large can, which shut with a clang<\/i>. \u201cSo get your ass in there, unless you\u2019ve enrolled in some college I don\u2019t know about.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d Demos said.<\/p>\n The door shut behind Victor with a slam.<\/p>\n Ferris swallowed. \u201cChrist<\/i>, that man is scary,\u201d he said under his breath. Victor had always been terrifying. Memories hit Ferris all at once. That afternoon in the living room. The lie about truth or dare. The threat he\u2019d made to the waiter\u2014the one about boiling his scalp off in a stock pot.<\/p>\n Now he was doubly terrifying.<\/p>\n Demos dropped his cigarette, crushing it out with the edge of his shoe. \u201cWell,\u201d he said. \u201cLooks like we\u2019re closing.\u201d<\/p>\n #<\/p>\n By the time the final lamp clicked off in the restaurant, Demos and Ferris were the last souls left. Only one room had still light, still held voices\u2014the back office. Demos had found a seat on top of the desk in spite of the perfectly functional chair just behind it. This office, this desk\u2014there was so much Ferris could remember. Spreading books and notes out on a rainy afternoon, studying. Completing ledgers, stacking rows and rows of bills. He was glad they\u2019d rebuilt it the same way.<\/p>\n Ferris could see hints of his own reflection in the rifle cabinet behind the desk. He shifted his attention back to Demos, who had taken both of his hands. Demos\u2019 thumbs ran over his knuckles, slow enough to send a prickle straight up into his chest.<\/p>\n There was a tart smile on Demos\u2019 face. \u201cI think we\u2019re alone now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not going to start singing the rest of that, are you?\u201d Ferris said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d Demos asked. \u201cUnless you can think of some other\u2014fun activity?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing could be more fun than watching you belt out some Tiffany<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n At this, Demos hands went to Ferris\u2019 waist. He tugged him in by his belt, drawing him close enough for a kiss. It was the kiss he had waited all day for, unable to get close enough between public spaces, kitchen staff, customers\u2014everyone. Demos\u2019 lips were longing against his own, slow, taking in the moment. It took a second for Ferris to get in a solid breath. His mouth opened and a tongue traced against his. He shivered.<\/p>\n Then, he felt it\u2014the hands at his belt sneaking up under his shirt. It was happening again. Demos was coming at him and an unholy mixture of anxiety and wanting had paralyzed Ferris\u2019 whole being. As fingers rose up on bare skin, Ferris\u2019 entire body went stock-still. Every muscle in his frame tensed and there was a falter in the kiss, a three second pause that felt much, much longer.<\/p>\n Demos let go.<\/p>\n His hands dropped, followed by his eyes. Demos was staring at the floor now and there was that look\u2014the same one on his face. Every time. Ferris felt a wash of rotten sickness overtake him. He was hurting Demos in plain sight. That look was his fault.<\/p>\n Demos rubbed his own arm. \u201cUm\u2014I need you to be honest, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. Of course.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you\u2014\u201c His lips pressed flat, a weak flush rising in his ears. \u201cAre you attracted to me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Ferris said. It wasn\u2019t an answer he had to think about. \u201cGod<\/i>, yes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut you keep\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cI know.\u201d Ferris reached forward, taking Demos\u2019 hands back into his. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I just\u2014I\u2019ve never\u2014\u201c Now it was his turn to avert his eyes. \u201cI don\u2019t want to disappoint you. I don\u2019t want you to regret this.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos touched Ferris\u2019 face, guiding him back so their eyes could meet again. \u201cNothing on earth could make me regret a single second I\u2019ve spent with you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about that global warming documentary I made you watch?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2014I mean\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Ferris smiled, then leaned in to finish the kiss they\u2019d started\u2014so he wouldn\u2019t have to answer that question. His first attempt at being \u201cnice to his boyfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos tasted Ferris\u2019 lower lip, then murmured against his mouth, \u201cThis is all I\u2019ve ever<\/i> wanted.\u201d <\/i>Tentatively, the hands returned to Ferris\u2019 waist. Demos\u2019 fingertips moved slowly, testing, sliding back beneath the shirt. Now there was no tension, no pause. Ferris wasn\u2019t pulling away this time. Demos smiled against the kiss and moved to begin unbuttoning the shirt.<\/p>\n \u201cFor so long,\u201d Demos said, reaching for the last button. \u201cI\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n He fell silent. When Ferris opened his eyes, he saw his partner staring at the burn scar on his side. His fingertips had stopped just short of it.<\/p>\n Ferris\u2019 gaze tightened. \u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m\u2014\u201c Demos\u2019 words were faint, hard to make out\u2014like a distant shape in the fog. \u201cI\u2019m bad for you, aren\u2019t I?\u201d<\/p>\n The words stung. Ferris\u2019 heart twisted up in his chest like a wrung dishrag. He took each side of Demos\u2019 face.<\/p>\n \u201cHey,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cLook at me.\u201d He waited until Demos\u2019 eyes had locked back onto his. He could see the pain in them, the guilt, the reason he had told Ferris to leave. It felt like so long ago\u2014five years. It had been five whole years since Demos had said it. \u201cYou\u2019re not safe with me.\u201d <\/i>Five years since they\u2019d parted on that stoop in front of his house.<\/p>\n \u201cThe worst mistake I ever made\u2014\u201c Ferris\u2019 thumb traced down the side of Demos\u2019 cheek. \u201cWas saying goodbye to you. It doesn\u2019t matter if you\u2019re good for me, bad for me. In my life, you\u2019re not<\/i> optional. Do you understand that?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n All Demos could do was nod. He pressed his face into the side of Ferris\u2019 neck, fingers clutching the back of his shirt. Ferris held him back for a while, closing his eyes and taking in the soft beats of Demos\u2019 pulse against his skin. It was the worst thing about this scar\u2014not that it was ugly, or that he\u2019d lost feeling beneath it. It was the way it seemed to torture Demos with that memory, each time he saw it. Hopefully, in time, that would fade.<\/span><\/p>\n It was then he felt Demos\u2019 fingers twist into the shirt, tugging it down to free his shoulders. Well, back to it then. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYou sure you want to do this here, in the office?\u201d Ferris asked.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cYes,\u201d Demos said, sitting back to watch his face. \u201cAre you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Ferris nodded. \u201cYeah.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n The shirt dropped from his shoulders, settling somewhere on the floor. This wasn\u2019t at all fair; Demos was still fully clothed. Seeking to remedy this injustice, Ferris reached for the collar of that Oxford shirt. His fingertips trailed down to the first clasped button and Demos lifted his chin, exposing the flush in his throat.<\/span><\/p>\n Ferris popped the first button free then the second. \u201cRemember when we weren\u2019t even allowed in this office?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cIf anyone finds out what we\u2019re about to do\u2014\u201c Demos\u2019 lips curved, the smile of a con artist.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWe won\u2019t even be allowed in this building<\/i>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh?\u201d The third button parted. \u201cWhat are we about to do?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cNothing, if you don\u2019t stop being a jackass.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s fair,\u201d Ferris said. The last button came loose and an old daydream hit him, one vivid enough to make his heart skip. It was one he\u2019d had more times than he\u2019d like to admit, parting those buttons, tugging that shirt down past pale shoulders. \u201cSo\u2014did you ever imagine this?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cEvery night,\u201d was the immediate answer. Ferris\u2019 hands paused halfway through parting the shirt. It was then Demos seemed to realize what he\u2019d actually said. He made a weak attempt to clear whatever was stuck in his throat. \u201cWell\u2014not literally<\/i> every night.\u201d A sharp breath followed, as if it would distract from the redness in his cheeks. \u201cStop looking at me like that\u2014you\u2019re ruining this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n There wasn\u2019t any other way Ferris could look at him. Demos was glowering, blushing\u2014in such rare form. He was perfect in every way.<\/p>\n Ferris offered an abating smile. \u201cI did, too.\u201d<\/p>\n Continue reading<\/a> (Patreon<\/a>\/18+ only)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The bookstore felt different. On a normal day, Ferris could find comfort in the walls of hardcovers, the texture of paper under his fingers, and the muted rustling of pages. There was always something new was he was bored, something old when he needed a fix of nostalgia.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-634","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-02"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-ae","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/634","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=634"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/634\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":677,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/634\/revisions\/677"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=634"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=634"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=634"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}