Page 73 of Dream a Little Dream

Aaron stopped, turned. Taylor.

Taylor stroked his arm. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just…didn’t the boy found in the river live in your flat?”

Shit. Fuck.“Yeah.” Aaron rubbed his temple. “Next door to me.”

“Fuck, Aaron.” Taylor squeezed his arm.

And whether it was fate, the world fucking with him, or something deeper he refused to acknowledge, but Kenny, along with other faculty members, walked past him right then, heading toward the canteen. He met his gaze as he strode past, and with his hair down, glasses on, in casual chinos and shirt combo, Aaron couldn’t tear his eyes away. Why was he attracted tothatwhen he had a literal model in front of him?

“Come round mine tonight,” Taylor said. “No strings. No expectations. Just come round. Me and the boys will get some drink in. Chill out with us.”

Aaron forced himself to stop watching Kenny jogging up the steps to address Taylor, a man offering him something hecouldtake. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.”

* * * *

Against his better judgement, Aarondidgo round Taylor’s.

And had far too much to drink whilst there.

He rarely drank to excess. Didn’t need to. He was numb enough. Drinking made him think. Talk. Lose control.

Yet tonight, here he was, on his fifth JD and Coke, though it was mostly JD at this point, resting his hand limply on his glass as Taylor, next to him on the tatty sofa, kept inching closer, dropping his hand on his thigh. Aaron barely registered him. He was just a prop. Something to keep him upright as the room tilted around him. There were other people scattered across the floor, none of them familiar, none of them important. It was just noise, bodies in the background.

Taylor’s housemates, George and Max, tangled together on the loveseat under the bay window and wrapped in a lazy embrace, whispered to each other in between kisses that shouldhave been for the porn channel only. Apparently, they had some weird fucked-up relationship thing where they were with other people too. Sometimes separately. Sometimes together. But Taylor had explained how they were madly in love with each other, but too stubborn to admit it.

Somewhere near the TV, another bloke with a weird nickname—Ratty?—sprawled on a beanbag, cycling through music on an app, mumbling to himself about howThe Curewere misunderstood geniuses.

“Oi, Ratty!” Taylor kicked the bloke’s back with a socked foot. “Turn this shit off.”

Ratty swatted Taylor’s leg away. “Fuck you, I likeThe Cure.”

“Yeah, but we want upbeat music, right?” He angled his head at Aaron, teeth gritted, a silent gesture that meant Taylor believed him fragile.

If only he knew just how fragile Aaron was.

“Why don’t you take him upstairs?” someone muttered, laughing. “Do what you want there.”

Aaron fluttered his eyes shut for a moment, head swimming from the drink, the room fading in and out. He didn’t care. He didn’t even feel the hand on his leg anymore, didn’t care enough to push it away. Maybe he should just say yes. It might be nice. He hadn’t got off since Inferno. Hadn’t had another man touch him since Dr Kenneth Lyons had stroked his hands under his top, tweaking his nipple bolt.

Maybe Taylor was good in bed?

Then Taylor’s voice drifted closer, warm and teasing in his ear, “Wanna go upstairs?” And his breath brushing down Aaron’s neck caused nothing. Not even a slight twitch. “We could just cuddle? I’m a good cuddler.” He then gave a stern glare at the other two snorting in amusement at Taylor’s clear seduction technique. “Fuck off.”

Aaron turned his head to look at him, eyes bleary and unfocused. Taylor smiled, hopeful. If Aaron agreed, if he went upstairs with him, he knew what would happen. And he knew, in his current state, that he would wreck Taylor. Ruin his entire existence. Drinking should make him careless, selfish. But right now, it was making him moral, making him pause. And aware of the destruction he could cause if he let himself.

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking through the fog. He fumbled for it, glancing at the display.

Fuck.

“I better take this,” Aaron said and hefted up from the sofa, the world lurching beneath his feet.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Taylor said, dipping to the edge of the seat. “You can take it in my room. Upstairs.”

“I’ll go outside, need the air.” Aaron stepped over the bloke on the floor, falling into the flailing legs of the happy couple, out to the hallway, where the kitchen opposite was a mess of opened bottles of spirits and beer cans. Aaron grabbed the half empty JD, then stepped outside into the cold night, fresh air slapping him in the face. He stumbled to the end of the yard, into the main street.

---