Chapter Twenty

Holden

Holden woke early, sometime after dawn judging by the amount of light in his bedroom. And considering the time of year, that made it pretty bloody early. He had a headache courtesy of the amount of wine he’d drunk after throwing Tyler out. He cursed himself. After all the men you’ve casually slept with, how dare you get upset that Tyler wasn’t anywhere near declaring his undying love for you. He tossed the quilt back and padded to the bathroom to pee. In the kitchen he set the coffee machine going and swallowed some Tylenol. Then, at the laptop, the cursor winked at him steadily. Chapter One.

He flicked through his notebook, looking for the plans he’d made for this book. It seemed like so long ago now. The book idea had been drafted before Leo had run away and it still remained that way. A draft. Without a single word written. He read over the brief outline several times, then the chapter plans. He’d got as far as outlining the first eight chapters which was good going for a guy who usually flew by the seat of his pants, putting flesh on the bones of a skeleton idea as he went along. He went over chapter one, reading the outline aloud, thinking, pondering, imagining that chapter taking shape, the first few sentences. He didn’t have any names for the characters. All that time ago this plan had been written and still no goddamn names. Still the main players were referred to as X, Y and Z. Fuck it. Well, that book was on indefinite hiatus now anyway, because the priority was Finn’s book. He looked again at that chapter one and the cursor flashing with his fingers poised over the keyboard. How to start?

He’d opened a browser before he’d even thought about it. Then he was into his bookmarks. And suddenly he was on one of his favorite sites and it was game over. Hot and heavy porn with his cock already getting stiff.

He clicked the search box. What was he in the mood for today? Not guys in army combats, that was for sure. He didn’t need to think about Tyler while he was doing that thing Tyler suggested was keeping him from his work. The thing that maybe he could avoid by switching off the internet.

Yeah, right. Holden took his cock free from his pj pants. He didn’t want to avoid this. He wanted to do it while watching hot guys fucking each other. He liked to watch one guy getting done by lots of others. Imagining that guy was himself so he could feel shame and humiliation even while watching a guy he didn’t know. Just making even the act of watching porn another guilt-laden act to torture himself with.

He typed in gangbang and wished he could watch something gentle and sedate—two guys having nice normal sex and maybe even kissing—without needing to make himself feel bad. The thumbnails came up and he scrolled through them, looking for something to capture his attention, giving his cock a stroke as he did.

There. A guy naked on a table on his back, another guy inside him while several others stood around watching. He clicked on it. Then he froze as the video started to load, questioning what he saw. No. It couldn’t be. It was just someone who looked like him.

The guy on the table was lean, verging on thin. He lay with his arms flung above his head, his body jolting with every thrust his partner made into him. He was dark-haired and attractive. His eyes were closed. He moaned but it sounded fake, which Holden was used to as a connoisseur of porn. He’d rarely seen a bottom who looked like they were enjoying it. Their limp cocks backed up his theory. Another reason why he felt guilty for watching gangbangs. Getting off on someone else’s misery.

This guy’s cock was hard though. Some of the guys standing around fondled it, slapped it. A guy stooped and sucked it. Another man, a massively built brunet, bent and whispered into the guy’s ear, which caused him to moan ever louder. “Fuck me,” he said. “Please, fuck me.”

The men cheered and the guy fucking him doubled his pace. He wasn’t wearing a condom, Holden could see. His gaze went once more to the face of the man on the table and he shook his head and told himself it couldn’t be. That it was just a terrible coincidence.

But no.

He knew he was looking at Finn.

◆◆◆

Tyler

With a coffee, Tyler emptied the packet of stamps from Holden over the table once again. He shifted them around, sorting them into countries once more, as previously he had gathered them all back up into the packet without finishing his sorting. He remembered the ones he’d checked against the ones in his album, and the ones he hadn’t. Tyler didn’t have a huge collection, but the album was almost full. Some individual pages already were and he’d have to buy another one soon if he was going to carry on. Especially if Holden was going to give him stamps from his collection as he’d suggested. Although maybe that idea was dead in the water now after he’d thrown him out last night. He sighed and focused on the stamps. Tyler stuck his stamps in an album using hinges because it was a cheaper method, even though it was time consuming and devalued the stamps. Buying a stockbook where one could slot the stamp quickly behind glassine leaves was way more expensive and took up more space. If he extended his collection, he’d end up needing a stockbook for each country he collected, which couldn’t be done, financially and practically. And the way he was feeling now, he wanted to dive right back into the hobby in a serious way, thanks to Holden rekindling his desire. He had no money, but you could buy a hundred stamps for a couple of bucks. It wasn’t like he was going to start running around buying Penny Blacks. Chance would be a fine thing. Taking up the hobby again would be a form of that mindfulness the therapists were so keen on him exploring. It would be a way to disappear from the world for hours at a time and forget everything.

He saw the red Newfoundland stamp peeking out from behind a few others. He couldn’t hinge that one. It was mint, never used and worth something, even if that was maybe only a few bucks. He needed to put it in a mount to protect it. Maybe he could buy a cheap stockbook from eBay and put just his mint stamps in there, if he got any more. That was an idea.

Another sigh escaped him as he held the red Newfoundland stamp in his tweezers. He’d hurt Holden yesterday. The guy was obviously hoping for a little encouragement, for Tyler to say he liked him and maybe they could take it further. Why hadn’t he? Just to ease Holden’s obvious suffering and mental distress over his addiction and inability to conquer it. Instead, he’d made it sound like Holden was some cheap screw whom he could take or leave, when that wasn’t the case at all. Far from it. He was way more invested in Holden than maybe he should have been. And there was the rub, because he doubted Holden’s ability to feel more for a sexual partner than arousal. Wasn’t Tyler just another cock to him? There could be no mistaking that was what Holden wanted from a man. For him to get fucked as hard and as long and as often as he could.

There couldn’t be more from his side, could there? Not with his addiction. So if Tyler ending up feeling something for him, it could be him getting badly hurt, not Holden. Did he feel something for Holden? Did he want this to go somewhere? His disappointment when he’d been sent home last night told him yes, but he didn’t think Holden could ever be the one for him, not with the age gap, Tyler’s mental issues and disability, and Holden’s addiction. They were too different, even if they were both damaged and suffering. Or were they?

He placed the stamp back on the table. The album wasn’t old enough to have a separate section for Newfoundland so his others were mounted under Canada. Perhaps he should get a separate stockbook for them, seeing as they were his favorites, and seeing as some of them were worth something as well. He’d checked their values when he’d started collecting Newfoundland stamps and they had been worth a few bucks each at the time. Better than nothing. Maybe the red dog stamp would be worth more now if he checked again. He wondered how much Holden had paid for them. At first glance, he’d presumed they were a three to five dollar mixed bag—pretty, but worthless—but would someone have made the mistake of putting the red dog in it? He doubted it. So maybe some of the others were worth something too. There were numerous old ones, even a used Queen Victoria Penny Red, although he already had a couple of those in his collection that were sadly only worth a few dollars. Many millions of them had been printed. If you wanted one of those with the big bucks, you had to get a Plate 77 one. He glanced along the side to identify the plate number in the scroll design. Plate 216.

He picked up his phone and googled Penny Red plate numbers. It was worth 29 dollars. It looked like Holden hadn’t paid a couple of bucks for this bag at all. He switched to

Newfoundland stamps at Stampworld.com and found the dog. It was worth about sixty-five dollars. Considerably less than some others, but possibly more than the ones in his collection. Not bad at all. Perhaps he’d go through them now and see if they’d appreciated in value. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

A knock came at the door. Seeing as he knew barely anyone in town, he could hazard a guess who it was. A little flutter went through his stomach as he stood and made his way down the hall to the front door.

But when he swung open the door, he found Finn, looking pale and anxious, shifting from one foot to another and twisting his hands together.

Tyler smiled at him. “Hey.”

“Hey, how you doing?”

“I’m okay. Come in.”

“Thanks.”

Finn stepped inside and wiped his feet on the mat before closing the door. He followed Tyler down the hall to the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure. Hey, what are these?” Finn peered over the scattered stamps and the album on the table with fascination.

Tyler smiled wryly, waiting for the jokes about being a nerd with no life who never got laid. At least, that was what they’d said at school, even though he got laid plenty, and that was what they would have said in the army too, which was why he hadn’t told anybody. “What does it look like?”

Finn smiled. “Did I find out your secret hobby?”

“Looks like it.” Tyler poured some coffee into a mug and set it on the counter.

Finn didn’t look up. “These are amazing.” He picked up the tweezers to Tyler’s astonishment. “May I?”

“Uh, sure.” Fucking hell, Finn was full of surprises.

“Some old ones here. Wow, I know nothing about stamps, but isn’t that Queen Victoria? A penny red?”

Tyler smiled. He knew he’d made the right choice in having Finn as a friend. “Yeah.”

“So this piece of paper is over a hundred years old?”

“Not that far off two hundred.”

“And these?” Finn gestured to the page that housed Tyler’s small collection. “Newfoundland? They issued their own stamps?”

“Yeah, until 1947. Then they joined Canada in 1949.” Tyler couldn’t believe Finn wanted to chat about stamps like this and had to bite his tongue before he went off on an excited stamp-related rant.

“I’d love to go there. Something about it. So wild and rugged.”

“Me too.”

Finn glanced up and smiled. “Have you just bought these?” He indicated the packet and the pile spilling from it.

“Er, yeah, but uh, Holden bought them for me.” Tyler felt himself blushing and cursed inwardly.

Finn’s eyes went wide. “Oh, right.” He took his mug from the counter. “I think me and you need to sit down. It must be serious if he’s buying you stamps.” He winked.

Tyler smiled. He poured himself a top-up of coffee and led his friend into the lounge.

“How’s the leg?” Finn asked as they took a seat opposite each other.

“Bearable,” Tyler said. He ran his fingers over the edges of the sock on his knee. “These have been great, Finn. The best present anybody’s got me in a long time. Thanks so much.”

Finn lifted an eyebrow. “Even better than the stamps?”

Tyler laughed. “They’re neck and neck.”

“A pretty sweet present to buy you,” Finn said, sipping his coffee and eyeing him. “That ranks alongside someone buying me art supplies.”

“I bet Brandon buys you those all the time,” Tyler said.

Finn laughed. “Yeah, he does.”

Tyler regarded him. He could still see the strain on Finn’s face. The shadow behind his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

Finn shrugged. “I just came to get the gossip.”

“Is that all?”

Finn lowered his gaze, examining the liquid in his mug.

Tyler spoke gently. “I’m guessing you’re feeling the strain from the interviews with Holden.”

Finn bit his lip. He looked up, his dark blue eyes gleaming. “It’s really difficult to talk about some of that stuff with him.”

“I know.”

“And I’m questioning whether I want to carry on.”

Tyler waited a beat before he said, “Nobody’s making you do it. You have to think about what’s right for you. If it’s too traumatic, why put yourself through it?”

“I know. I like talking to Holden though. He’s an okay guy. Even if he does jerk off in his car.”

Tyler spluttered on his coffee. “God,” he said, “he was so ashamed when he got home.”

“I bet.”

“He wanted to interview Brandon for the book and now he knows he stands a cat in hell’s chance of that happening.”

Finn’s face had gone serious again and Tyler cursed himself for mentioning that. “Even if he was Holden’s biggest fan, I’m not sure he’d want to talk about shooting and killing a guy.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said, noticing Finn had said a guy. Not Dominic. A guy.

Finn sighed and sat back against the couch. “He likes you,” he said. “Holden.”

“I like him too,” Tyler said. “But he threw me out last night.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Says we should stop.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m just a cock to service him when he needs it. Which is often.”

Finn regarded him. “That’s not the impression I got from him.”

“It isn’t?”

“No. He likes you. He’s afraid of the obstacles there might be between you, but he likes you. He didn’t talk about you like you were just a cock to get him off. He’s not disrespectful.”

Tyler lowered his gaze.

“Now I know who plays pitcher and who plays catcher.”

Tyler whipped his head up to catch Finn smirking. He smiled reluctantly. A knock came at the door and his smile dissolved to a frown. More visitors than he’d ever had before. It had to be Holden this time.

“Be right back,” he told Finn, placing his cup on the side table before he stood. Sure enough, it was Holden at the door. He looked even paler and more anxious than Finn had looked and Tyler wondered if it was because he was regretting throwing him out the previous night or if something more was at play. “Hey,” he said, noticing the white shirt and jeans Holden wore and the few inches of smooth chest he could see. With difficulty, he forced himself not to look for that dark brush of nipples against the material again. He remembered mouthing those nipples the previous day with Holden astride his lap while Tyler fingered him. How they felt, small and bullet-hard under his lips, wet with saliva. The way Holden shuddered when Tyler licked them.

“It’s Finn,” Holden said without preamble. “I found…”

Tyler put his finger to his lips, effectively cutting him off. He jerked his head back towards the living room.

Holden’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again.

“You found what?” Finn asked behind Tyler.

Tyler groaned inwardly. He suspected shit was about to get very heavy and wasn’t sure he could deal with it that morning. There was a lot to be said for sitting at your table sorting through stamps and ignoring the world around you. “Come in,” he told Holden.

“What did you find?” Finn repeated.

“Let’s sit down,” Tyler said, closing the door with a sickening feeling.

The two men were sat opposite each other when he went into the living room. He took a seat next to Holden and looked at his hands clenched on his knees. He suspected whatever it was, it wasn’t something to be shared with Finn.

Finn’s eyes were boring holes in Holden. By his side, Holden seemed to shrink in on himself. Tyler felt sorry for him. “It’s just… a newspaper article about the shooting,” he said. He was a shit liar and Tyler braced himself waiting.

“Try again.” Finn’s voice was cold and hard. “You found what about me?”

Tyler watched Holden. He bit his lip and worked his mouth. Those hands of his compulsively clenched his knees. He wanted to take one of them and squeeze it with reassurance. Instead he said, “Just calm down, Finn.”

Holden looked at him then and Tyler tried to project some reassurance.

“I can’t calm down,” Finn said with his face reddening. He clutched his head in his hands. “Oh God, you’ve seen me on the internet, haven’t you?”

One glance at Holden’s face showed Tyler that Finn had hit the jackpot.

“Finn,” both Tyler and Holden said at the same time and in almost exactly the same tone—sorrow, comfort and horror.

Finn leapt to his feet. “You’ve seen the video of me getting fucked, haven’t you?”

Tyler stood and so did Holden. Finn made to run for the door and Tyler caught him by the arm. “Hey. Don’t.” He pulled Finn to him and suddenly Finn was holding him hard, his face buried against Tyler’s shoulder with great sobs wrenching his lean frame.

Tyler cupped his head. He looked at Holden and saw the tears in his eyes. With his other hand, he reached out to Holden and Holden entwined their fingers and squeezed.