“Plant therapy is definitely a thing. They gave me leaflets about it at the MS clinic before they realised I was a gardener and the disease was probably going to take that from me.”
“Will it? I mean, eventually?”
Sid shrugged. “I don’t know. It depends if I end up with SPMS.”
Dante tilted his head in question.
“Secondary progressive MS. It’s when it stops remitting and gets its feet under the table for good.”
“Oh.”
“Yup.” Sadness coloured Sid’s gorgeous face and Dante wanted to kiss it away, but it was gone before the first tingle reached his lips. “But I can’t control if and when that happens to me, so I don’t worry about it.”
“Block it out?”
“More like swamp it with positive thoughts. It’s harder some days than others, but fate is fate, right? And I like being happy more than I do being miserable.”
“Happy looks good on you.” Dante spoke without thought, then decided he didn’t care. So what if Sid knew Dante was addicted to his smile? There were worse things he could know.
Sid rubbed Dante’s shoulder with his free hand, then sat back against the couch again, the fingers of his other hand still wrapped tightly around Dante’s. “I’m sorry something shitty happened to you. I don’t care if you deserved it at the time, no one deserves to suffer forever.”
Least of all you. Dante turned to face Sid on the couch. “What did you mean when you said you can’t have whatever this is—” He jerked his head at their joined hands. “—with anyone at all?”
A flush darkened Sid’s suntanned cheeks, staining the visible skin above his golden beard. “Exactly what I said. Ican’t, as in, my body won’t fucking do it anymore.”
Dante frowned. “Won’t do what? Feel good?”
“Oh, it feels good,” Sid said. “For me, sometimes, but it doesn’t, uh, always show it, so we could get all the way to the punchline and I’d have nothing for you.”
“You mean... you don’t get hard?”
“Not always. Sometimes I can’t even feel it, even if my brain tells me I’m horny. It’s so messed up, I can’t even explain it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know, but I kind of want to, because I reckon there’s a devil on your shoulder telling you that you’re the problem here, and it’s fuckingwrong. You’re the—” Sid shook his head. “Never mind.”
“That ain’t cricket.” Dante fought to keep his tone light, while inside he was reeling, racing to catch up with each thought as it barrelled through his mind. Information. Consequences. Cause and effect. “Tell me what I am, I can take it.”
“I wish.”
“Do you?”
Mischief warmed Sid’s face, fleeting and beautiful. “Totally. But I haven’t fucked anyone since I got diagnosed. I tried once, and it was so embarrassing I wanted to drown myself in the duck pond.”
“I wouldn’t know how to fuck you, if it’s any consolation,” Dante said. “I’ve never done it like that with a bloke.”
“You know how to fuck women, though, right?”
“Yeah, but not... like that, and I wasn’t necessarily good at it. None of them ever stuck around.”
“Did you want them to?”
“Maybe. I can’t remember.”
“I don’t believe you.” Sid brushed his thumb over Dante’s knuckles. “You remember shit. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t hate yourself so much.”
“Yes, Doctor.”