CHAPTER 36

I can't tell if Levi is an early riser like me.

It doesn't matter right now, though. He's wide awake. I stayed up as long as I could manage but, like before, I could never stay awake through a full night of mania.

I disentangle myself from him immediately after his eyes grow wide with my answer to his question about switching.

Nicholas wasn't the switching type, and I'd never considered the option. With Levi . . . with Levi anything and everything seems possible.

I take a shower behind a locked door because he's wearing me down, and even if he won't admit to it, he's already worn himself out. He needs to come down from this high, but we both know it's almost impossible to tell how long an episode will last.

When I exit the shower, Levi is still in bed, naked, his cock still hard from earlier. His fist is wrapped around his cock, and he's jacking himself off leisurely. "You wanna help me with this?" he asks with hooded eyes.

I wish I could say I find the bruises covering Levi's body disturbing. The fact that my chest swells with pride is what's disturbing.

I walk over to him with a towel wrapped around my waist. He reaches out his hand, but I'm just out of reach. "You need your meds."

"Okay. You wanna help me out, stud?"

"Did you bring them here?"

He laughs. He's strangling his dick. "I only had space for condoms in my wallet. I'm going to paint us something." He pumps his dick harder. "I'll call it Their Sad Love Song. I was thinking about it when I got up. I was having—" precum drips from his slit — "having, ahhhh, I was having these weird dreams all night." Pumping harder. "All two hours I slept, that is. I have no idea what they were about, but maybe they were good dreams because I didn't wake up like, scared or anything like that. Hey, wanna know a secret? One time, I fucked a girl at a party in high school. I didn't know she was a girl until I was deep in her ass, and I reached forward and" —he's struggling to come— "and like, man, I got a handful of boobs. Is that considered topping? It's not, right? If it is, then I'm sorry I lied to you about it the last time, when I told you I'd never topped before. You don't think I'm a liar, do you? Because—"

I drop to the bed, take his hand away from his dick. "Close your eyes, Levi."

He's caught off guard. Doesn't close his eyes.

"Close your eyes and breathe," I tell him. His chest jerks up and down. I press my other hand to his chest. "Slower," I say.

He tries, but he can't.

I keep my hand on his chest, jerking him off slowly with the other. Immediately, his body stiffens. He digs the back of his head into the headboard, lifting his hips for my hand. And then, he comes. So easily and fully.

My hand remains fisted around his dick long after the shudders of his body have died down, waiting for him to open his eyes and come back. My hand on his chest remains, and I count his heartbeats in my head, hardly able to keep up.

Finally, when I've worked most of his semen into his skin, his eyes flutter open. His body slides down, sated. For now, at least.

"Take a shower as soon as you can. You can wear anything of mine. What's your ritual?"

"Hmm?" He grins lazily.

"Your morning routine. What is it, Levi?" I keep my voice gentle.

"Earl Gray tea. Gotham, season two, episode fifteen."

"Okay." I get up to leave. Levi grabs my hand.

"I'm only going to the kitchen. Come to me as soon as you can."

He loosens his hold on my hand. "Okay."

In the kitchen, I prepare Earl Gray tea for Levi and a strong black coffee for myself. The faint sound of the shower flits through the kitchen. I switch on the TV and search for Gotham, season two, episode fifteen.

My phone pings with a text: Love, I'm on my way to the airport – early flight. Can I stop by for a minute or two to say goodbye?

Levi would probably be in the shower for more than a minute or two. My mother isn't overbearing. A bit nosy, yes, but not overbearing. If she says a minute or two, it usually is.

Yes, I text back.

Five minutes later, the shower is still going, and my mother is sitting at the kitchen island drinking a freshly made cup of coffee.

"Why didn't you go with Dad when he left last week?" I ask.

"Oh, dear. France is boring when your father is working. I said I'd join him when he's done with work."

She eyes the cups on the counter. "Your guest prefers tea?" she asks with a smile.

"Yes," I say noncommittally.

"He also likes—" she squints at the TV. "Batman?"

"Yeah." My mother's smile is contagious. Either that, or the thought of Levi is more pleasant than I'd realized.

She abandons her coffee and walks around the island to me. Wraps her arms around me and holds me tightly. I hold her back, resting my chin on top of her head. "You deserve all the happiness in this world, Hayden. You are a good person. A very, very good person."

"Thank you, Mom."

"Is he the brown-eyed bun-wearing artist?"

My lip pulls further upward. "Yeah."

"Well, I'll get going before you two start your day."

She turns for her purse. I lift my head.

Levi is at the archway.

Dressed in a tuxedo.

Oh, God.

No.

My eyes skitter to my mother. She hasn't noticed anything amiss because she still has a smile on her face. Despite my churning stomach and the sickness settling inside me, I am made breathless by how beautiful Levi is. He smiles and cocks his head to the side, seeming to not care about the hickeys on his face – one on his cheekbone and two along his jawline.

His hair is pulled up into a bun at the top of his head. It's clear he didn't use a brush, but even just finger-combed, he's never looked so beautiful.

He lifts his hand to rub his lips, currently embalmed in lip therapy.

His tattoos.

Fuck. His tattoos.

"Hi," he says from where he's standing.

My mother gives me a quick glance, her eyes full of hope, before she walks to Levi. She hasn't noticed his tattoos. Her eyes are fixed on his face. I don't blame her – he's gorgeous. But I don't know if she would be so hopeful when she sees that Levi has a tattoo of a semicolon. She would know immediately what it signifies. My mother had walked a long journey with Nicholas too.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi." Levi doesn't even look at me. He's grinning wildly at my mother. My heart beats in my chest, heavy and unsteady.

"I'm Hayden's mom."

"Hi, Hayden's mom. You're really beautiful. More beautiful than any mom I've ever seen."

"And you are a really beautiful boy."

Levi turns red but smiles widely. "Thank you, but I'm not beautiful." Confident in his self-deprecation. Unable to accept a compliment, even when he's manic.

My mother takes his hands in hers. His tattoos are on full display.

After a beat, she turns to me, making sure her back is to Levi when she looks at me. The hauntedness in a mother's eyes after they have held their adult children's pain in their hearts is unmistakable.

She gives her head a small shake. Not this, she seems to be saying. Or maybe she's saying, not this again.

I keep my face blank. I hate that it seems like Levi is a problem to be avoided.

"I'll see you again soon," I tell her, silently begging her to leave it alone. At least for now.

She shakes her head again. And then, inhaling deeply, she turns back to Levi. "I only came by to see Hayden before I left for a trip to France. Perhaps I'll see you again?"

Levi smiles brightly. The brightness in his eyes outshines his smile. "Yes, absolutely," he says loudly, unaware of the undercurrent his tattoos have created.

My mother comes over to me, pulls me into a tight hug. "Oh Hayden, my son," she whispers into my hair when I bend to return her hug.

A lump forms in my throat at the anguish in her eyes. I, too, am also filled with anguish for what might be waiting for me.