Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

What worried Juno most was how comfortable he was getting in Piper's space. It was why he'd put distance between the two of them. It was why he took Miles up on his offer to go visit in spite of telling himself that he was going to avoid his friends until he was ready to fess up about his eyesight.

And the visit had gone well enough. He wasn't surprised that Miles's boyfriend picked up on his limited vision, but he was surprised it was Emmett, the scientist, instead of Cosimo, the surgeon. Though he supposed that considering that Cosimo was a cardiologist, he wasn't any more likely to realize something was off than the physicist.

Luckily, the only thing Emmett had done was quietly pull him aside and ask if he needed help paying for a doctor. It was sweet, mostly because it was genuine and not patronizing the way that do-gooders tended to be with Juno, especially after learning about his background.

He turned him down since he had everything covered, but he begged Emmett not to say anything. "I just need time to figure this all out. I hate asking you to lie to your boyfriend, but it would mean a lot to me if you could just keep it quiet for now."

"I will, but you really should tell him soon," Emmett said while he was driving Juno back into town. Miles had come down with a migraine, so Juno had kissed his forehead and then left him to the dark room while he headed home. "He'll understand."

Juno had sighed quietly and stared out the window at his blind spot. "I know. I just need to process it first. And honestly, I think I need to know how bad it's going to get because he and Oliver are going to ask questions that I don't have answers to yet."

He could tell Emmett didn't like that, but he respected it, which was all that mattered. On the drive in, he wondered if Emmett knew Piper, and it was very possible considering that Piper used to work near Emmett's lab, but he wasn't ready to draw attention to that either.

He wanted to see where the relationship was going before he let people in. He wanted to know if Piper could handle things if—and when—they got worse.

So, he had Emmett drop him off at the curb of Piper's town house, and he spent the evening letting the older man pamper and tease him until he was a trembling mess, more spent than he ever had been in his life.

He slept hard, and when he woke, Piper was in such a deep sleep he looked almost dead. Juno tried not to panic that something was wrong, but after poking him repeatedly, Piper groaned, swatted at him, and turned away.

It was the perfect chance for Juno to slip out of the bed and creep down to the store. Piper had been doting on Juno to the point of absurdity, and the least Juno could do was the one thing he was good at. And he knew damn well Piper had a weakness for baked goods.

He wasn't a great cook, but he was an amazing baker, and he could have a perfect coffee cake done in forty-five minutes. There was a grocery store a few blocks from Piper's town house, so he hoofed it there and back for the few things Piper didn't have in his kitchen.

He lost himself in the rhythm of baking. He measured, stirred, and poured, then threw together a little crumble for the top. He did it all unthinking, hardly paying attention to where his hands were going, and he had a moment where he realized that he probably wasn't going to lose this at all. When he'd practiced blind at his shop, he'd been half out of his mind from the shock of it.

Now, he was sleep-heavy and lost in his thoughts, and he hadn't missed a single step. His life wasn't going to fall apart. He was going to be angry and sad, but ultimately, he was going to be okay.

Juno jolted when he heard footsteps padding into the kitchen three minutes before the timer was set to go off. He turned his head until Piper was in his visual field and then smiled. He had pillow wrinkles on his cheek, his hair mussed, eyes glassy and tired.

He was gorgeous.

He knew he was staring a little too hard when Piper cleared his throat and blushed.

"I know I'm no belle of the ball in the mornings."

Juno laughed and beckoned him close. He kissed him, happily licking at his sour morning tongue. "I like you like this. I'm only staring because I don't want to forget if I lose it."

Piper's eyes looked a little sad, but he just cupped Juno's cheek and said, "Stare away. But let me get some coffee in me."

He drank decaf, which made Juno want to fling the coffee maker into the sun, but he understood why. He'd already made his own cup from one of Piper's little pods, and he was sipping at it when the oven began to buzz.

Piper spun. "Are you cooking?"

"Baking," Juno said. He grabbed the hot pad and pulled the dish out of the oven. It was perfect. He gave it a little shake and was satisfied when it didn't wobble. "Coffee cake."

"I'm never letting you leave," Piper mumbled into his cup.

Juno laughed and almost told him not to make promises he didn't want to keep because he would be more than tempted to stay. Though Piper hadn't repeated his offer to let Juno move in, he hadn't stopped thinking about it.

It felt reckless and dangerous because he knew deep down he was probably going to say yes if Piper asked him again. And that could lead to absolute disaster.

He might be the grand love of Juno's life the way Victor was for Oliver, or Emmett and Cosimo were for Miles, but he wasn't sure he trusted himself not to fuck it up if he moved this fast. People usually needed time to acclimate to him.

And half the time, the moment they did, they realized he wasn't their flavor and quickly left.

He was great window dressing. No one wanted to keep him for more than that.

"You look sad," Piper said softly.

Juno cleared his throat and shook his head. "I'm not sad. Just thinking." He reached past Piper and pulled out a couple of bowls from the cabinet, then grabbed a serving spoon.

Piper raised a brow. "Don't you need to let that cool?"

"Cool is for fools," Juno said.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how that saying goes."

Juno scooped a crumbly spoonful of coffee cake from the pan and plopped it into the bowl. "I make my own rules. And you haven't lived until you've had straight-out-of-the-oven coffee cake." He grabbed the butter dish from the counter and put a pad in the center before handing it over with a fork.

"I trust you only because I've had your cakes, and you obviously know what you're doing."

Juno kissed him for that. "Good man. Now, go sit. We can start making our map. I have some other ideas that I want to add." He stopped then and glanced down at his feet. He had several things he wanted to add, but he didn't have the money to fund the trip for as far as he wanted to go.

"Sugar?"

Juno didn't raise his eyes. He heard Piper cross the short distance between them. He heard the soft click of his bowl hitting the counter. He could see Piper's toes—bare, a little hairy, nails neatly trimmed. They shuffled forward until they were touching Juno's socked feet.

"Sugar," Piper said, softer this time. He touched Juno's side with a warm palm, brushing it upward, rounding along his ribs until he was pressing the heel of his hand to where Juno's heart was beating. "Juno. Talk to me?"

Juno swallowed heavily. "There's so much I want to do—that I want to see—but my life has sucked pretty much from birth, and I don't have the freedom to just go."

"You're closing down your—oh." Piper stopped abruptly, and Juno was pretty sure he got it. "Financial freedom."

Juno hunched into himself, but Piper kept in close, scratching the tips of his fingers along Juno's chest. It felt good. Too good. He felt like a cat with the urge to start purring and leaning into the touch.

"You don't have to worry about that."

Juno finally looked up. "I could never pay you back. I mean, even if I go viral online for my stupid bakes, it wouldn't be enough. My lease is up next month, and I didn't bother renewing it because it's getting expensive there. And I have no idea what my income is going to be like because I don't know how different it'll be after all this." He gestured angrily toward his eyes. "I can't even get an answer about how bad it's going to get, and I know that's no one's fault, but…" His voice cracked.

His eyes were hot with tears that refused to spill, and he felt like he was losing his mind with the pressing weight in his chest. It didn't matter how much he raged, or screamed, or cried, or laughed, or accepted his fate. The feeling was there, and it wasn't going away.

He was pinned to the tracks, and a train was coming right for him.

There was no one there to save him. There never would be. Not from this.

Piper cupped his cheek and held his gaze. "I don't want to be paid back."

Juno scoffed. "So you'd keep me like some kind of sugar baby? Sex for travel?"

"Stop." For the first time since Juno had met him, Piper sounded angry. "When have I ever treated you like that?"

Juno pulled away and wrapped his arms around his middle. "It's not even an insult, okay? My best friend was a sex worker for years. Paid all his bills, made really good money, met the love of his life. So the fact that you'd use it that way?—"

"That was you," Piper said. His tone was sharp and unforgiving, and Juno felt a moment of both relief and panic. Relief because he knew he'd fuck up eventually, and at least he got it over with now rather than when they were on the road. And panic because Piper was the last person in the world Juno wanted to push away.

But it was better than waiting for it to fall apart later.

"You were the one who used it against me as an insult."

He was right. Juno had thrown the words sugar baby at him to get a reaction—to shake him. And it had obviously worked. God, why was he like this?

A beat passed, and then Piper sighed and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He was a little pink in the cheeks, and Juno couldn't help but wonder if it was from his heart or if he was just that angry.

"If you want to be my sugar baby—if that's what'll make it easier for you to accept my help—then we can do that. We can draw up a contract and leave that between us."

Juno didn't think there was anything wrong with sex work. At all. But the words hurt because he hadn't wanted this to be transactional. His entire life already had been. Friendships always required him to give pieces of himself, and relationships had asked for even more.

"Is that what you want?"

Piper let out an angry laugh. "Are you serious?"

"No, just…" Juno threw up his arms and began to pace the kitchen, not sure how to process his feelings. He wanted this to be Piper's fault because it was easier than shouldering the guilt that he'd been the one to torch this good thing. "I don't understand why you'd do all this for me!"

Piper covered his face with his hand. "I supposed that's part of your problem."

" My problem!"

Piper shrugged. "Yes, Juno." It had been a while since Piper had used his name like that, and it hurt. " Your problem. I've told you that I like you. I'm doing my absolute best to be patient because I know you need time to process what you're going through, and I can do that. But I can't help you when you're throwing shit at me like this. My financial situation is better than yours. That's the reality, and I don't know what else I can do to make it easier for you to accept that I can give you the things you want. Or that I don't want anything in return."

Juno turned, but the corner of the counter was in his blind spot, and he hit it. Hard. Pain lanced through him as he hit the ground, and when he heard Piper rush over to him, he held a hand out. "Don't."

Piper stopped, but he didn't back away. He knelt beside Juno, then eventually sat and stretched his legs out. There were several inches between them, but the inches felt like miles.

"I do this."

Piper huffed a soft noise. "Do what?"

"Fuck up. Piss people off. Push them away. It's something I've worked on in therapy since I aged out, but I just…it's a struggle."

"Okay."

Juno couldn't help a small laugh as he turned his head to look at Piper. "Okay?"

Piper nodded. "I won't put up with it forever, but we just met. We're not even officially anything but friends. I'm not going to have unrealistic expectations for you right now."

God, why the fuck was he so reasonable? Why couldn't he be like everyone else and get fed up knowing that life with Juno would always be a bit more difficult.

He swallowed heavily. "I didn't see the counter. I c-couldn't see it." He rubbed at his eye.

"You'll get to know my place better. If you'd like to," Piper said.

That wasn't the point. Except…maybe it was. Piper had never once tried to pretend like Juno wasn't losing his sight. He didn't feed him platitudes or false hope that this was the worst it was going to get.

Instead, he offered him work-arounds. Coping mechanisms.

It was unexpected.

Juno rubbed both hands down his face and almost lost the battle as he fought to hold back a sob. "I'm sorry." The words were a shattered whisper.

He could hear Piper moving, then felt the warmth of his body before tender arms pulled him close. This time, Juno let himself be held. Piper kissed his temple, then the crown of his head.

"Come with me."

Juno pulled back. "Where?"

He was now falling into the spiral of feeling like he couldn't possibly deserve whatever Piper was about to offer. It was a toxic habit, and a small voice told him he should probably call his therapist. He couldn't afford a session right now, but she usually had sage advice for him and never bothered to bill him for a few minutes of her time.

Piper didn't answer his question. He stood up and offered his hand, and eventually, Juno took it. Their fingers linked together, and Piper pulled him down the hall, passing the bedroom, and through a door that led to an office. It was dimly lit with a window that didn't get much natural light, but it fit the vibe. There were massive bookshelves, a huge desk, a small telescope in one corner, and a very plush couch along the far wall.

Shutting the door behind him, Piper let go of Juno's hand, then walked over to the window and closed the curtains all the way. The room plunged into immediate darkness, so black Juno couldn't see any movement. Panic crawled up his throat, but before he could act on it, he heard the click of a switch.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then he realized the ceiling above him was glowing. He'd seen it before in photobooks and websites. Constellations and star clusters stretched from one end of the room to the other.

In the far corner was something bright, shining with reds and oranges.

"It's called the Soul Nebula," Piper said. He was nothing more than a shadow, but Juno could see him closing the distance between them. "It's in the Cassiopeia constellation."

Juno blinked up at the image. "How did you do this?"

"My brother created it. He's really good with images and projections and stuff. He hooked it all up with a switch. Sort of a mini planetarium theater show." Piper hesitated when he reached for Juno, so Juno closed the rest of the distance between them, and Piper let out a satisfied hum. He pulled them both to the couch, and they tangled together, Juno resting his back against Piper's chest.

Thick thighs bracketed him, and while they were both almost too big to cuddle like that on the couch, Juno wouldn't have moved for anything in the world.

"Did you see that nebula yourself?"

Piper shook his head against the side of Juno's. "No. It's over sixty-five hundred light-years away."

"How far is that?" Juno asked very softly.

Piper smothered a laugh against the side of Juno's hair. "Trillions upon trillions."

"But is that what it really looks like? I mean…did some satellite take photos? How the hell could one even get there if it's that far?"

Piper traced lines up and down Juno's arm. "Some nebulae can be seen from Earth with the right telescope lens. They don't look like this," Piper said, pointing up at the image. "But some of them are too far away. The Soul is much too far for a telescope."

"So how do you know what it looks like?"

"It's a sort of…rendition," Piper said. "I have a colleague—he's blind—and he creates images like this based on sound."

Juno stiffened. "You have a blind friend?"

"Colleague," Piper corrected. "We worked together a few times on a couple of research papers early in my career."

Juno relaxed a little. For a moment, he'd been worried Piper was bullshitting him to try and make him feel better, though in all honesty, he knew Piper wasn't that kind of man. "And that's how he saw that nebula? With sound?"

"The Soul Nebula isn't his," Piper told him. "That was just the one I fell in love with the most, and the images were created the same way my colleague does his."

"Are you trying to give me some sort of pep talk?" Juno said, a little irritated. "A blind guy can paint nebulas, so you can bake your little cupcakes?"

Piper laughed softly and kissed the side of his neck. "Not exactly like that. I'd never belittle your cupcakes. But yeah, maybe I am a bit. Your situations aren't the same. He lost his sight when he was, like, two, I think? And he's not a baker. He's always had a mind for astrophysics."

"But let me guess, he didn't let his disability stop him from accomplishing anything?" Juno asked, bitterness rising in the back of his throat.

"Oh, I'm sure it has plenty of times. I don't know him well, but if he ever went through the phase of wanting to drive, I'm sure his disability stopped him from doing that."

In spite of his mood, Juno smiled. "I…okay, fair."

"And if he ever visited any museums, any famous art he's experienced has probably been a replica. They don't let you get frisky with the David 's dick, as far as I know."

Juno burst into laughter. He couldn't help it. "Oh my God ."

"What I'm saying is that people do get on with their lives even when their body's limitations get in the way. I did."

Shit. Juno had all but forgotten that Piper had given up his entire career because it had wreaked havoc on his body and stopped him from being able to do it anymore. Even if he had been ready to quit, he was still given no choice in the matter.

He shuffled so he was facing Piper. He couldn't see him well in the dark—just the edge of his profile. The starry lights were too dim. He traced a touch over his jaw. "I'm going to be pissed off for a while. And scared."

"I know. And I wasn't trying to give you some football movie feel-good speech so you can go win the championship or whatever," Piper said. "My point is that Magnus wanted to be an astrophysicist, so he did it. And when he needs help, he takes it when it's offered. If he'd been a stubborn ass about it, he wouldn't be where he is today."

Juno hated that Piper was right. He hated that it was a glimpse into his future—that he didn't have to lose everything, but it meant he'd have to start trusting people. Something he wasn't good at.

"What do you want me to say?" Juno finally asked.

Piper cradled his face. "I want you to ask me for what you need. I want you to tell me where we're going. I want you to let me take care of things when you can't."

Closing his eyes, Juno breathed in the scent of him—clean and musky. He felt the power in Piper's hands, listened to the steady breathing making his chest rise and fall. "Okay."

"And—"

"No," Juno said. "That's all I can give you right now."

Piper relented immediately. He dropped one hand and used the other to pinch Juno by the chin and kiss him, soft and slow, full of hot, wet tongue. Juno went warm all over, rolling his whole body into it. They kissed for long, lush minutes before Piper broke it off and pressed their foreheads together.

"Let's go back into the kitchen and start planning. I know you have more ideas, and we should get them down before we get distracted."

"Just a few more," Juno admitted. Maybe more than a few, but he'd left off all the unrealistic "travel overseas" ones because he wouldn't be able to get his passport on time, and he was running against the clock.

Realistically, according to all the literature he had on his condition, he had a few months at best before most of his sight was gone and a few weeks at worst. But fate was rarely ever kind to him, so he knew he had no time to waste.

He'd deal with the rest when they got back and the future when he was ready to look ahead.