Famished, he walked home, pondering what Dante planned to do with the vegetables he’d stashed in the fridge and trying not to think about the likelihood that Dante had gone hungry the night before when Sid had stood him up in favour of a nine-hour nap.
In fact, there were a lot of things he was trying not to think about, and recalling every heady detail of taking Dante’s dick inside him was the easiest and sweetest distraction a man could wish for.I’ve never come like that. Every single HD replay, it was the realisation Sid came back to. He trudged across the yard, letting his mind drift to the moment he’d fallen apart, to the agonising pleasure that had barrelled through him. Pain and ecstasy were closer friends than most people would ever know, but Sid knew, and his stomach stillachedfrom the shattering climax Dante had coaxed him to. That, and the soul-deep call to be with Dante that wouldn’t fade until Sid lay hands on him again.
I need him.
Sid quickened his pace across the yard and jogged the last few metres to his bungalow, half expecting, despite waiting on Dante’s call to pick him up, to find him already home.
Home. Sometimes Sid forgot that Dante didn’t actually live with him. That he had a bungalow all of his own that he slept in as often as he shared Sid’s bed.
I want him in my bed every night. The thought solidified as Sid let himself into the bungalow and found it empty with no sign Dante had returned since Sid had last seen him after lunch. It sprouted roots that curled around Sid’s heart like the curly stems of a passionflower tree. The warmth in his belly bloomed to something more than desire and friendship and his limbs felt lighter than they had in years.
Sid moved through the bungalow, checking for sure that Dante wasn’t there before he chanced a quick shower. Clean and dry, he dressed in Dante’s clothes again, sweatpants and a faded red tee this time, the one with the cut-off sleeves, picturing Dante in the supermarket with a sunflower branded to his chest.I’ve got to get a photo of that shit. Sid wasn’t a selfie kind of bloke, and neither was Dante—fuck no—but he needed a reminder of this day almost as much as he needed Dante to call him already so they could huddle up and shut the door on the world.
The minutes ticked by and turned into an hour. Anna called. Sid ignored her in favour of opening his short text thread with Dante and checking if he’d been online.
He hadn’t, obviously. Dante’s fledgling communication with his brother’s boyfriend hadn’t changed the fact that he paid little attention to his phone.
Frowning, Sid set his phone on the kitchen counter and moved to the front door, opening it for no reason at all. The sun was starting to sink in the sky, ducking behind the trees of the forest and leaving a textured orange lake behind. It was the time of day Sid usually blazed a smoke and enjoyed the sunset with Dante at his side, but alone, the riot of colour seemed muted and dull. With a sigh, he shut the door and returned to the kitchen to repeat the process with the fridge. Hunger gnawed at his insides. Eating without Dante felt disloyal, but driving on an empty stomach was a dodgy endeavour, so he reached for the vegan protein shakes he kept for emergencies and choked one down.
The process took approximately six minutes. Sid rubbed his chest and picked up his phone.Fuck it. He called Dante. It went straight to an automated message that Dante’s phone was switched off, and concern flared in Sid’s gut, replacing the sated ache he’d carried all day. Dante rarely glanced at his phone, but he charged it every night like a man who found comfort in routine, and he didn’t use it enough for the battery to run flat.
He’s turned his phone off?Sid’s frown deepened, and restlessness drew him back to the front door.
He opened it again, tapping out a message with his other hand.
Sid:did you get lost? please tell me you’re not on the fucking bus with eight bags-for-life on your lap?
He sent the message. It disappeared into the WhatsApp ether but didn’t deliver. For good measure, he sent a regular text message too, but as the concern building inside manifested as tangible dread, he already knew Dante wouldn’t reply.
More time slipped away. Sid paced the bungalow, the back garden, and then the forest path to his car. The urge to tear out to the route Dante had taken to the supermarket was strong, and only the fear that he’d be elsewhere if Dante showed up stopped him.
He trudged back through the woods, trying not to think of the first time he’d shown Dante how the darkest of nights could come alive under the thick canopy of trees. He let himself into the bungalow and sat on the couch, gaze flitting between his silent phone and the closed front door.
Night fell.
Dante didn’t come home.
21
Dante woke on the cold floor of a storage unit. It was damp too, soaking into his jeans and socked feet. Somewhere between the side of the road in rural Manchester and wherever the hell he was now, some arsehole had stolen his boots.
They’d stolen his consciousness too. The last thing he remembered, Asa’s hand had slammed over his mouth again, and now he felt sick as a dog with the mother of all headaches.Did he drug me? That fucker.But the anger Asa deserved didn’t come. Dante could only sigh as he hauled himself to the walls of the container and slumped against them, breathing hard.
“You’re awake then.”
Dante cracked an eye. Asa squatted in front of him still dressed in the same grimy clothes. “I’m trying. The fuck did you do to me?”
“I knocked you out, then I jabbed you with a little brown to keep you that way.”
“You shot heroin into me?”
Asa grinned, wolfish and cold. “You’ve done worse.”
“Not to you.”
“So? Doesn’t mean there’s anything you can say to make me feel sorry for you.”
Another sigh escaped Dante. His heart cried out for Sid, but the shithead in him was already trying to think his way through the nausea and find a way out. “I don’t care how you feel, about me or otherwise. What do you want from me?”