Victim of Love (29 page)

My eyes closed tightly, two tears leaking out.

“I got out of bed and turned on the light. That’s when I went into shock.”

“Beck,” I said, my voice quivering.

“Let me finish. Please, Olsen. I can’t do this twice.”

I nodded, remaining silent.

“Shock does strange things. I got dizzy, couldn’t stand up. My mind couldn’t interpret things right. I was in something like an animal state. Terrified, confused, trying to process the monster in my bed, the thing with the ruined face. The blood.” A sob escaped him. “I ran to the door to get away from it. Kevin had closed the door when he came in, and in my shock, that temporary insanity, I couldn’t remember how to work the knob. Just needed to get out. Kept smashing it with my fists. My knuckles were bleeding. Eventually, some of my mind returned, and I was able to open the door and leave the room.”

Beck gave his head a quick shake, then tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“I slipped on something when I ran into the living room, and fell down, smashing my elbow. The pictures Kevin had printed out. Pictures of me. Pictures of us together. They were spread out all over the floor. Dozens and dozens of them. They were everywhere. In that moment, my awareness came back to me. But at the same time, something snapped.”

Beck turned his head and looked at me. His eyes were wet, but he held his lips tight, determination mixed with despair.

“I did something then that I’m ashamed of.” He looked away again, hanging his head. “In my shock, I was thinking...people are going to know. I can’t have that.” He shook his head. “I just can’t have that. So I scrambled around, picking up all of those photographs he’d printed out. On my hands and knees. I picked up every one, and ran into the other room and stuffed them in the fireplace. I lit the logs, and let them burn. But then I remembered something. Something I’d seen in my shock, something in the bedroom. With the monster.”

A whistle of breath escaped me, and I had to bite my lips to keep from speaking, from offering some words of comfort to this man. This man I loved. But I kept silent. Letting him get through it.

“I worked up my courage, and went back in there. Kevin had taken some of those pictures to bed with him before he...they were on his body. One of them had marker on it, where he’d written ‘I love you’.”

Beck looked at me, shaking his head slowly.

“I couldn’t have that either. It was basically a suicide note. Blaming me. So I picked up the remaining photos, and peeled that one out of his hand.” Beck’s body jerked as he hugged his knees, rocking. “It was covered in blood. Blood was everywhere. I was slipping in it. Falling in it. Screaming, even as I ran to the fireplace and burned the remainder of the photos. Burned his love note. Burned everything.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, unable to stop myself.

Beck looked at me. “I couldn’t even give it to him then. Even lying there dead and broken. I couldn’t give it to him. Didn’t want anyone to know about us. And I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You were in shock.”

He nodded, looking down.

“You weren’t thinking straight.”

“I know, Olsen. I know.”

“So you finally called someone?”

Beck nodded slowly, eyes dazed. “The police thought I’d killed him. In a way, I felt like I had. My logic knew it was the drugs, not me that pushed him to that. But when they asked if I’d killed him, I almost said yes.” He nodded, his eyes lost in the past. “I almost said yes.”

I held my breath, clenching my fists so I wouldn’t go to him. I’d never wanted to comfort someone so much in my life.

“It was my gun,” Beck said. “I knew Kevin knew where I kept it, but I never thought...”

“Is that why they questioned you?”

Beck nodded. “That. And other things. As thorough as I was collecting all those pictures, I still wasn’t in my right mind. When the cops showed up, there I was. Covered in blood. Busted knuckles. My elbow was swelled to the size of a softball from the fall I’d taken when I slipped on the photos. It looked like I’d been in a fight. And I’d moved Kevin’s body. When I was trying to get the rest of the pictures I...” He shivered. “I lifted him to make sure there was nothing underneath. My fingerprints were literally
everywhere
. And of course, I had a blaze going in my fireplace.” He glanced at me. “Which the cops thought understandably strange. Someone shoots himself in your bed, and your first thought is to light a fire?” He shook his head. “Of course they were suspicious.” He sighed. “I felt like I was dying. I didn’t even care if they arrested me.”

I finally couldn’t stop myself, and got up and went to Beck, sitting down on the floor in front of him. I had no words, so I merely took his hand. He let me, though his fingers were limp.

“They questioned me over and over. Questioned me when my mind was so shattered I wasn’t sure
what
the truth was. I was exhausted, hungover, and in complete shock. But they just kept going.”

I squeezed his hand.

“They let me go, but I was back in being questioned again before I knew it. I thought getting a lawyer would make me look guiltier. Only thing I could do was tell them all of it. There was a team investigating Kevin’s death. Investigating me. Half of them believed me when I told the truth. It’s amazing how some people suddenly understand when you tell them you were trying to hide being a fag. But the other half only saw it as motive. They thought I killed Kevin to cover up our relationship. That he’d threatened to talk, and I’d silenced him.”

“But you weren’t charged,” I said. “They let you go?”

“I took a polygraph test. Passed. And the medical examiner’s report was on my side. Angle of the shot suggested it was self-inflicted. They found drugs in his system. They found bits of the photos in the fireplace. Blood from my knuckles on the door. I thought I was going to jail. But ultimately they believed me. And I was free.”

I tried to hug him, but he pushed me away, struggling to get to his feet. “Gonna be sick,” he said and ran for the bathroom again.

I paced my living room, listening to Beck vomit. What this had done to him, reliving all of it for my benefit...I couldn’t even imagine. But I was sure it had done more damage than just making him throw up. I was anguished, devastated, and so sad for him I couldn’t stop the tears spilling from my eyes.

But I wiped them and got myself together when I heard the bathroom door open.

Beck’s face was blotchy and pale when he stepped into the living room. He met my eyes. “You believe me now?”

“Of course. Of course I do.”

“I’m gonna leave then.”

He started for the door. I grabbed him around the shoulders. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“I have to go,” he said, a sob choking his voice. “Olsen, just let me go.”

I gripped him around the waist and dragged him back, shoving him into a chair. “You’re not going anywhere, Beck! Not like this. I won’t allow it!”

Beck stared up at me, eyes wide. “Olsen!”

“Yeah?”

“Olsen, I needed to tell you that so you didn’t think the worst of me. But it’s done. I’ve put you through enough and I’m not gonna put you through any more. Now just let me—”

“You’re not going anywhere!” I shouted, and my resolved cracked completely as tears streamed from my eyes. I pointed at him. “You’re sick and you’re upset and I hate that you went through that and that you still are going through it. You’re gonna stay here tonight, Beck. You’re gonna stay and let me...” I took a breath, wiping my eyes. “You’re gonna let me take
care
of you! And that’s all there is to it!”

Beck jumped from his chair and wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tight. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay, Olsen.” He rubbed my back. “I’m sorry. I’ll stay. Just breathe, okay?”

With his arms around me, I calmed. Wiping my eyes, I straightened. “You’ll stay?”

Beck smiled softly. “I’ll stay. But you’re a little shit. You know that?”

I laughed, nodding. “I know.”

“So,” Beck said. “Do you have a spare toothbrush by any chance?”

“Of course I do,” I said, wiping my nose. “Do you know what kind of bacteria builds up if you don’t change your toothbrush regularly?”

Beck’s wide grin, a real grin, spread across his face. I’d never been so happy to see it. “You can tell me all about it, Olsen.”

Chapter Nineteen

Getting Clean

Beck and I sat in my bathtub, him on one end, me on the other, our legs tangled together in the middle. I’d used the lavender bubble bath my aunt had sent me last Christmas, and the entire room smelled of flowers. Beck and I each held a tumbler of whiskey. And he seemed relaxed, well, and the weight on my shoulders began to slowly lift.

“I missed you,” Beck said.

“I missed you.”

“You’d think I would have been able to avoid people with your hair color, especially in Spain. But I kept seeing guys that looked like you everywhere. You were haunting me.”

“I’m here now,” I said. “You’re okay now? Better?”

Beck smiled. He looked like a wet dream, his beard dewy, beads of sweat on his forehead, naked chest engulfed in bubbles. “Olsen. I’m fine now. I promise. Not promising the nightmares are gone for good. But I’m solid. Ask me anything you want. Talk about anything. I’m not going to crack. If I didn’t crack telling you that story, I’m not gonna crack now.”

“I only want to know one thing,” I said. “Did you go through all of that...
alone?
”

He nodded. “For the most part.”

“Laurie?”

“Laurie only knew part of it. Just that Kevin had...done that. In my bed. She didn’t know who he’d been to me, thought we were just good friends. And I sure as hell didn’t give her any of the other details.”

“That’s it? Just Laurie? Did you get...” I winced. “Don’t get mad, but did you get therapy or anything? I mean, the nightmares...”

Beck laughed, resting his head against the tile. “I did. For a short while.” He sighed. “Ah, therapy. I’d never have gone, but one night my sister stayed over my house. I had one of those nightmares, and she couldn’t wake me up. Scared the shit out of her. She insisted. So I went for her.”

“Did it help?”

“Oh, I don’t know. They awarded me with one of their greatest hits. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”

“Makes sense to me,” I said.

Beck nodded. “Sure. But all they wanted to do was
talk
about it. Talk, talk, talk. After a while, I figured out the only way I could function was to forget it. Not talk about it. Push it away and forget it completely. Try to be someone else. Someone that hadn’t happened to.”

“So you quit therapy?”

“I did. They were not happy about. Thought I was headed in a dangerous direction. Trying to split from myself. But I knew I could handle it. That it was the
only
way to handle it.” Beck looked at me, his eyes soft and slightly heated. “But then I met you. And I wanted to be a real boy again. Because you were real. And a real man would never be satisfied with the wooden puppet that I was.”

“How do you feel now?” I asked. “Honestly.”

Beck’s eyes shifted as he thought. “You know what? I feel pretty good right now.”

“Really?”

He laughed. “Yeah.” He frowned, like he couldn’t believe it himself. “I really do.”

“I love you,” I said.

Beck crawled over to me, kissing me. His beard tickled my chin. I melted into it, gripping his slippery body in the water. Breaking the kiss, he looked me in the eyes, his face close. “I love you, too. I want to try again. Please, just let me try again to be real with you?”

“No more mask?” I asked.

“It’s just me now.” He kissed me again, then eased back. “Just me, Olsen. I promise.”

I tugged his head in and kissed him, savoring his taste, the feel of his tongue. Beck kissed me back feverishly, ultimately wrapping his arms around my waist and falling back so I straddled him. We kissed more, wet and savage and sliding together, clinging desperately to each other’s bodies. “God,” Beck breathed into my mouth. “Love our little talks but damn I missed this fucking body.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I whispered.

“I want to just tear you apart.” He bit my lip, then licked it. “In the best possible way.” He grinned, then devoured my mouth again.

Things got more heated, both of our arousal evident and demanding more. Beck tore his lips from mine and looked up at me. “I’m safe,” he said. “And I haven’t been with anyone. If you’re safe and you want it too, I need to feel you with nothing between us.”

I lifted, lined him up, and took his cock inside me. Beck groaned, falling back against the edge of the tub.

“I’m safe. But honestly, safe doesn’t matter much to me anymore,” I said as I moved on top of him. “Nothing about you has ever been safe. But I always wanted you anyway.”

I rode him slowly in the water. Beck’s eyes stayed locked on mine, sexy and serious. He held my hips, moving his own as he met my rhythm. The slowness allowed me to hold off, and it went on and on until finally Beck broke, and began thrusting up into me, moaning as his eyes closed. “I’m gonna come. You feel too fucking good. Gonna come.”

“Touch me,” I said.

Beck took hold of my cock and stroked it fast. When his hips thrust up, pushing into me hard as he cried out, I let go, and crossed over with him.

We held each other in the bathtub, rocking, stroking, coming down, then stayed a little longer, not wanting the moment to end. It felt like years since we’d made love, yet at the same time, it felt natural, familiar, and right.

After that, I fed him. I had little food in the house so we ordered pizza. Beck didn’t mind, and gobbled down several slices like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

We cuddled on the couch since it was still early, and I introduced him to the crew of Deep Space Nine. He told me about some ‘more junk’ he’d picked up in Spain, and promised to show it to me the next time I was at his house.

“So you’re not gonna run out on me again?” I asked as I leaned against him on the couch, stroking his leg.

“No,” he said, and looked at me. “I want to talk about something else soon.”

“What?”