Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Niagara Falls.

Juno had seen a hundred photos and more than a dozen videos, and for so long, he'd never really cared about seeing a waterfall. He wasn't a waterfall kind of guy. But standing on the bow of the boat as they got close enough to be drenched by the spray, he understood what it meant to be awed by nature.

He couldn't explain the emotions with words. Not really. The falls made him feel small and insignificant, and yet somehow also important that he got to be there, exactly in that moment, to experience it.

The roar was overwhelming. It was a whole-body sensation. He realized then, as he leaned into Piper's arms, he didn't need sight for this one. He could visit there again, and the feeling would be just as profound.

And that was why he took his eyes off the water. He was leaning against Piper, his back to Piper's front. The older man's gaze was fixed out on the cliffs, watching the water cascade in white sheets around them. He didn't seem to notice Juno wasn't watching anymore.

That was fine by him. It allowed him selfish moments to indulge in just looking.

Piper looked beautiful there. Different—almost ethereal with a sort of watery halo surrounding his dark hair. Water dripped down his temples in rivulets. There was a single drop hanging from his nose, which made him sniff, and Juno smiled.

He was so fucking human—which was an absurd thought because they were both human. But Piper had made it a little too easy to put him up on a pedestal over the last few weeks, and it was nice for him to be brought back down to earth with Juno.

It was comfortable there. It was safe there.

Juno didn't need to live up to some idea of perfect because Piper wasn't perfect. He had a bagel crumb in the corner of his mouth and a tiny bit of white snot stuck to the inside of his left nostril.

He was so fucking lovely.

"You okay?"

In his musing, Juno hadn't realized Piper had turned his gaze down. He shrugged, then thumbed at his nose. "You have something."

Piper's cheeks darkened, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wadded napkin from their coffee earlier that morning. He swiped his nose, and the offending bit of imperfection was gone. So was the bagel crumb.

Juno, weirdly, missed them.

There was still a canyon between them in ways that he hadn't expected to feel after Piper said he needed some space. Juno had panicked the moment he said it. He'd been expecting it. He couldn't deny him, and frankly, he knew that was in his best interest too. He enjoyed being friends with benefits, but the benefits had started to fade into something else, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

He didn't trust Piper enough yet, which was his own fault, not the other man's.

Piper didn't want his heart broken, and Juno still couldn't promise that wouldn't happen. He needed to take a step back. He needed to let Piper push him away. And then it had all come crashing down around him as he sat in the cold, impersonal, empty guest room in the rental.

It didn't smell like them. The bed wasn't as soft. The light wasn't as bright. There was no rhythmic sound of Piper's wheezing snore, no twitching legs, no soft murmurs.

There was no one to absently reach for Juno in their sleep.

There was just space.

He hated it.

He hated himself a little more for giving in, but the way Piper had welcomed him back into his arms was enough to soothe that sting. And it was easy after that to make a promise that he wouldn't push Piper into anything more than this because that was also what he needed.

But Christ, he missed his kisses. He missed the morning taste of him, the sweet-sourness from his coffee after he'd had two cups. He missed the way Piper would smudge his lips against Juno's cheeks and the way he'd touch his face and look into his eyes like he didn't want to look anywhere else.

He had a little of that now, but not enough.

He had touches, but not without hesitation.

He wanted to hold Piper's hand right then, but he didn't think he had permission. The lines were as blurry as his shitty left eye, and he didn't think they were going to get any more clear. They had one more week of travel before they were in California, then another week back with a couple more stops for Juno to see.

It was three weeks, just over seven thousand miles, and it felt like a lifetime.

"Sugar?"

Juno couldn't express his relief that Piper was calling him that again. It wasn't ruined. Not entirely. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Piper reached up like he was going to cup Juno's cheek, then aborted the gesture and curled his hand into a fist, dropping it by his side. Juno's chest ached harder. "Just making sure you're okay."

"I'm good." A lie, but he couldn't tell Piper the truth. Piper would give in. He'd give Juno more than he wanted to, and that wasn't fair. "Thank you for taking me here. It's amazing."

Piper just smiled, then stepped back behind Juno and pulled him close again. They didn't hold hands. He didn't stroke Juno's fingers or play with his hair. But he kept one arm firmly around his waist to keep them steady as the boat rocked, Juno's back pressed against his chest, and it was something.

And that something, for the moment, would have to be everything.

The next two stops, they stayed in hotel rooms—nicer ones than Juno had ever considered booking. In Detroit, Piper brought him a bunch of brochures, and feeling like they needed some fun, Juno picked a haunted tour.

They were escorted to a red-lit trolley, and the man narrating the tour had a haunting voice. He and Piper sat curled into a bench seat in the very back, giggling like they were teenagers and getting death stares from some of the other patrons who were taking it all very seriously.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Juno asked as the trolley headed for the parking lot.

Piper pulled a face and shrugged. "Not in the spiritual sense. I mean, I don't think the human consciousness sticks around."

Juno's eyebrows rose. "But you do believe in something."

"Energy, but that part is fact, not faith. A good part of my career has been studying energy in the universe, and humans create a lot of it. I think if the death was powerful enough—maybe even violent enough, or scared enough, sad enough—it might leave an impression. Like an echo of what came before it."

"So those guys on the ghost show?—"

"Okay," Piper said, rolling his eyes. Juno had put on a ghost-hunting show when they got in and forced Piper to watch as they prepared for the tour. "Maybe not like that. I'm not sure there's any merit to some guy's theory that ghosts want to sexually harass everyone."

Juno slapped his hand over his mouth to quell his fit of giggles, and the way Piper's eyes were shining, he almost lost it. After a breath, he dropped his hand to his thigh, and Piper picked it up almost absently. His soft fingertips traced lines over Juno's palm.

It was a moment. A profound one.

Juno was afraid to say anything, afraid to shatter the spell.

"I miss you," Piper finally said.

Juno's mouth dropped open to reply that he hadn't gone anywhere, but the trolley came to a halt, and Juno realized they were back at the station. Piper dropped his hand carefully, and Juno wrapped his arms around himself as he followed the line of people outside. The lights in the parking lot were dim, and he yawned, then glanced around for the car.

He was getting better at compensating for his left eye, but when he focused on Piper's license plate, he noticed the numbers were a little…off. He blinked again. There was a spot there. A very small one.

Panic crawled up his gullet, and he swallowed thickly to try and calm himself. He forced his eyes to water, and he blinked. Had it cleared? Was it still there?

It was too dark for him to tell. But if it was, he had a matter of weeks—if that. The sight in his left eye had deteriorated so quickly. And the doctor had warned him that his condition was fast-moving.

In the grand scheme of things, it was almost like going to sleep and waking up blind.

"Juno?"

He turned and fixed his gaze on Piper, staring hard at his face.

"You're pale. Are you going to faint?"

Juno quickly shook his head. His ears were ringing, and his heart was beating too fast in his chest. "I think I need something to drink."

Piper motioned for the car, and Juno followed him, climbing into the passenger seat. They started off toward the hotel, and then Piper made a detour through a little burger place drive-thru that Juno had never heard of, and he tried to fix his gaze on the words in bright white lights.

Was there a spot? He'd had spots from silent migraines before—so maybe that was it.

"Hey, sugar," Piper said very quietly as he pulled out onto the main road, "there's something you're not telling me."

Juno's eyes went foggy, and he realized they were filled with tears. He blinked them back, refusing to give in. Refusing to cry over this. If it was happening—if this was it—he'd expected it. He'd known this moment was coming.

"I want to go back to the room."

"We'll be there soon," Piper promised.

He got his drink but didn't touch it, but by the time they got back to the hotel, Juno's question was answered. He had a full- blown migraine. He couldn't see anything out of his right eye except wavering aura, and his left was as useless as ever.

There was a burst of relief before he realized he wouldn't be able to make it from the valet to the room without help. "My head," he whispered when Piper pulled the car to a stop. "I can't see anything. It's a migraine."

"What can I do?" Piper asked.

Juno swallowed heavily. "Get me to the room without letting me fall on my face." He let out a tense laugh and rubbed at his eyes, but that just made the pain worse. Somewhere in the aura fog, he could see the steps, but he didn't want to open his eyes. The light was too much.

He smelled Piper's cologne before he felt his presence. Then, a warm hand touched his own. It guided Juno's to the back of his elbow. He'd practiced, Juno realized with an almost violent start. He'd looked up guiding a blind person, and he'd practiced .

His stomach flipped around itself. Even Juno hadn't been brave enough to do much more than read a couple of articles. He'd attempted to watch a video—a nice man with a soothing voice who taught cane navigation for a living had a channel on YouTube showing off different techniques.

Juno had liked him, but it was too real, so after the second video, he clicked away from it and hadn't let himself think about it since then. Was this what his doctor was talking about? Being in denial until it was too late to use his safety net?

He blinked as they got into the lobby, and the dim lights were less harsh. And he could see a little better. The aura had moved to his periphery—like light waves which might have even been beautiful if they hadn't come with so much pain. But the center of his right eye was clear.

No blur. No fog.

He almost burst into tears from relief, but instead, he closed his eyes and let Piper get him to the elevator. The motion made his head spin, and he knew the moment they were inside, he was going to be sick.

"Can you go get some food?" Juno asked when he heard the lock on the door click.

Piper froze. "You want to eat?"

"I want to throw up, and I'd rather you be anywhere else but in the room listening to it," Juno admitted.

Piper led him inside, then spun him carefully and cupped his cheeks. "Open your eyes."

Juno did. The lights were so dim there was no stabbing pain. He could see Piper surrounded by a halo of aura. He wished he wasn't hurting so badly. "I think I was—" He felt bile rise into his gorge. Fuck, he was going to lose it all over Piper's shoes. "It was tension. Please, let me do this alone."

"I'm not going far. I'll sit in the hallway for a bit, but you're really pale. I don't want you passing out alone."

Juno wasn't going to faint, but he didn't have fight in him. The hallway was better than nothing. Piper let him go, and the moment the door was shut, Juno closed his eyes and groped his way to the bathroom. He found the toilet by touch, and the tile was almost cruel on his knees, but he hovered over the toilet bowl and managed to heave up without spilling.

He was pretty sure.

He'd check once he could see straight.

It didn't take him long to feel better, though the pain in his head was profound. He managed to stand mostly upright in the dark bathroom and wash his face. He felt around and recognized the mini mouthwash bottle by touch, chasing the taste of bile away.

It had been a long while since he'd gotten a headache like this. They had been his old friend as a teenager when he was hormonal and angry and lost. He hadn't expected a resurgence. The last time he'd been taken out at the knees had been when he was first opening up his bakery, and that was just from the stress of loan applications and wondering if he was actually going to make something of it.

He wasn't surprised it had hit him now, he just wished it could have waited for another moment. He was tired of Piper seeing him fall apart.

Turning, Juno found his way to the bed by trailing his fingers along the wall. He crawled under the sheets, peeling away his clothes and letting them fall in a pile at the side of the bed. The pillows were cool, and the A/C kicked on with a quiet thud before pouring icy cold air over him.

The pain abated just a little, and the fog set in. He was going to be useless for the rest of the day and maybe into the next. But they had nowhere to be just yet. Not for a little while.

For now, he could rest.

Juno woke in a fog, the migraine hangover ever-present as he rubbed at his eyes. The left was the same, which was an odd relief. A small part of him had been terrified that the pain behind his eyes would have made his vision worse. But he hadn't noticed a change since right before they'd left home, and he was wondering if maybe the loss had plateaued.

He looked around, but the room was empty, and this time, he didn't panic. Wherever Piper was, he wouldn't be gone forever, and probably not for long. Sitting up, Juno waited for his head to settle, and then he closed his right eye and had a proper look around at his possible future.

The grey static stretched wide across his vision. When he turned his eye all the way in toward his nose, he got a clearer picture of what was around him. The second bed with their suitcases open, clothes spilling out. The nightstand—or half of it, anyway. He could see the side of the black phone he wasn't even sure worked.

And the clock. He couldn't read the numbers—they were an odd blur, and the color was all wrong.

All the colors were—muted and mostly green. It was ugly. But it wasn't a total loss.

He stood up and started walking toward the bathroom, his hand out in front of him. He could do this, he realized. Then he tripped over Piper's shoes. He didn't hit the floor, catching himself on the wall with a lucky grab. He thought about what the doctor said—how he was probably going to need a cane.

He couldn't imagine trying to walk around in public like this. But maybe with help—with some sort of assistance—he'd be okay.

He didn't need to learn to bake blindfolded. He just needed to rely on his sense of touch a little more. Just like he had when he was sick. And he'd done it. He hadn't washed his mouth out with shampoo or aftershave. He hadn't even had to think about it.

The door opened, and Juno jumped back a foot, opening his right eye. His panic settled when Piper's face came into view and his central vision was clear…

Or was it?

No. There was the smallest distortion right in the center when Juno looked directly at him. Right where his nose sat. His gut twisted again, but he breathed through it. You can do this , he reminded himself. You can.

"You're up."

Juno nodded and swallowed. His mouth tasted like a dead animal, and he grimaced. "How long was I out?"

Piper checked the watch on his wrist. "About four hours. It's dinner time. I got us pizzas from downstairs. They have a restaurant that does handmade ones with a woodfire oven. I also got wings and some fried zucchini and a sandwich in case you hate pizza."

Piper didn't even know he liked pizza because Juno had been a complete fucking asshole and kept the man so in the dark he was flailing as badly as Juno was. He couldn't keep doing this to him. He didn't want this. He wanted Piper.

"You're amazing," he blurted.

Piper blinked, flushing along his cheeks. "Um…thanks?"

"I need to wash my mouth out," Juno said quickly.

Piper looked startled and a little bemused. "Okay? Before you eat?"

"Just…one second?" he begged. He knew Piper was confused, but Juno was going to make everything clear very soon. He just needed to be less gross. He slipped into the bathroom and shut the door with a heavy thud.

He used the shower light to keep it dim, his head still tender. Then he emptied his bladder, washed his hands, and grabbed his toothbrush to clean out the funk. When he was done, he leaned toward the mirror and stared at the bags under his eyes.

He was too tired to keep fighting. He wanted softness. He wanted to be taken care of. And he wanted to take care of someone too. That was the crux of it—the reason he wasn't as scared as he should be.

This wasn't just about him. It wasn't going to end with him stuck a prisoner of Piper's whims. This was give and take. Piper needed him just as much. And wanted him just as much.

He'd made that so clear, but Juno hadn't let himself believe it until now.

And he was going to fix that, damn it.

He gathered his curls into a bun and tied them up before splashing water on his face, and though it didn't help him look much better, it cleared away a little bit of the fog.

He still felt like he was walking on clouds, but he was cognizant, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Piper was waiting for him on the second bed, back resting against the headboard with one leg crooked up. He looked at Juno and offered a small, lazy smile and patted the space beside him. "You need to eat something before you take more meds."

"More?" Juno's gaze moved to the nightstand, where he saw a bottle of ibuprofen and an open can of Coke. Meds and caffeine. "You get headaches?"

"No. I asked the lady downstairs what worked on migraines. They didn't have the pills that worked for her, so she told me what to do."

Juno went soft all over. Fuck, how had he been such a fool the last few days? Why was he pushing this man away—this man who would stick by him, even when things got hard. He swallowed past a lump in his throat and pressed his knee to the edge of the bed.

"Piper."

"Yeah, sugar?"

Juno closed his eyes and reached out, and Piper gathered him to his chest. He wished he was smaller just for a moment, just to be cradled, but feeling the warmth of Piper's broad chest was enough. A tentative touch ran up his arms, and then he opened his eyes.

They were nose to nose.

"I like you."

"I know," Piper said quietly, sadly. "I know you do."

"You don't know how much," Juno corrected. "It scares the shit out of me because almost all the people in my life who were supposed to care about me left me. And the people who promised they were going to make things better didn't." He took a steady breath and reached for Piper's hands, linking their fingers together. "But I want to be brave with you."

"I'm here for that, sugar," Piper said. "I promise."

Juno shook his head. "I'm not saying this right. I want to be brave for you so I can keep you. Because I want this, okay? I want you, and I'm tired of running from my feelings. My life sucks so much right now. I'm shit-scared of what it's going to be like when my sight gets bad. I'm, like, preemptively mortified that I'm going to need a cane in public. People are going to stare ."

"They are," Piper said.

Juno's cheeks heated slightly, but he didn't look away. He wanted to drink in every second he could see Piper's face this clearly. He touched his jaw, then dropped his hand down to his stomach, and Piper pressed his palm over it. "I don't like being seen. But it's different when it's you seeing me."

Piper licked his lips, then bit down on his lower one like he was holding back words. Juno wondered if maybe he'd gone too far. Or maybe Piper had already started letting him go. But he was going to be patient and wait.

"Are you sure?"

Juno closed his eyes. He hated that he'd been so difficult that Piper couldn't trust those words. He opened his eyes and met Piper's gaze. "More sure than I've ever been about anything."

Piper's face did something complicated. Juno couldn't read his expression, but what came next was clear. Piper took him by the chin, holding him in a grasp so tight it was almost painful. He tugged him close, used his free hand to grasp the back of his bun, and then leaned in and finally kissed him.