Page 61 of Fear
Somehow, he heard everything Jake might say in Victor’s voice.
Jake exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, and, in a flash of panic, Tobias remembered the night he thought Jake had broken a couple of ribs, he was moving in so much pain. “You probably know . . . I like touching you, Tobias. I’ve done more of that than I should, I know that now, and I’m . . . sorry, I really am, for whenever I pushed you too much, crossed lines I shouldn’t. The last thing—the very last fucking thing I want to do”—Jake was so emphatic here, leaning forward with each word, his gray eyes boring into him, that Tobias was gripped with the deadly, terrifying awareness that this was vitally important, he had to understand, even though he really didn’t yet—“is put you in any situation where you don’t like what’s going on. Do you get that?”
Tobias swallowed hard. He didn’t know what Jake meant by times he “pushed” Tobias too much. Unless he meant the one night he shook him, and Tobias had barely felt that. He’d definitely deserved it anyway, for spilling the peas and being so stupid that he upset Jake. He wished he could say he understood, but he couldn’t lie to Jake.
Jake must have seen his confusion. “Because that counts. Anytime I . . . I put my hands on you, even if it’s a single finger, in any way you don’t like, that counts as hurting you, and you should tell me to stop.”
“But Jake, you haven’t . . .” Anguished, Tobias pressed his hands over his eyes, then remembered that Jake liked it when he looked at him. “You don’t do that, Jake. You never have.”
Jake seemed unconvinced. Tobias felt despondency taking hold of him—not the leaden, numb hopelessness he’d always felt before, but an acute pain as he lost something precious (how had he dared let it become precious to him?). This was even worse because it was so backward: Jake wasn’t threatening to take his touch away because he’d found out how much Tobias liked it, but because . . .
Tobias shuddered in a breath, rocking back and forth as he struggled to force the words out. “When . . . when you t-touch me—like you did the other day, after I broke—I . . . I feel better, like it’s—easier to breathe, and I don’t have to worry about a-anyone, or . . . It helps, Jake. It helps so much.”
“Okay.” Jake caught Tobias’s hands, and Tobias stopped rocking. He exhaled shakily. “Okay. Like this?”
Tobias nodded, unable to speak, too shaken by his own vulnerability.
“Okay.” Jake squeezed Tobias’s hands. “But even if you like this now, there may be other times when you don’t, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean I’ll never touch you again. It just means you want hands off right then, and I want to know, I really do. Rule . . . Four, right? You just have to say one word, or make a noise, or even pull away a little, and I’ll get it and give you some room. Promise you’ll let me know, Tobias. Do you promise?”
Tobias swallowed. He couldn’t fathom the scenario, much less how he would comply, but with Jake looking that desperate, he didn’t have a choice. “Yes, Jake. I promise.”
“Good.” Jake sighed in relief. He didn’t let go of Tobias’s hands. “Thank you.”
TOBIAS WOULDN’T HAVE believed a week ago that things could improve so much. He hadn’t known where they were headed the night Jake shouted at him after the peas were on the floor, but he wouldn’t have dared dream they’d come back to a place where Jake would pull him close on the couch and let Tobias stay there against Jake’s side.
A place where Jake would finally give him rules to follow, even if they were strange and daunting in a way he wasn’t used to.
A place where Jake looked happy again, and not like Tobias caused him pain just by being near him.
Jake still left the apartment every day, though now it was for runs and not drinking at night. Tobias had started waking up early too, listening for Jake, then leaving his room to say good morning. He’d get a bowl of cereal because Jake liked to see him eating even though he waited until after his run and shower for his own breakfast. While he was in the shower, Tobias would start the coffee just like Jake had shown him, and he’d toast a pile of Eggo waffles for both of them.
The morning after they talked about Rule Three, Tobias came out as Jake was tying his tennis shoes.
Jake grinned up at him. “Hey, I was thinking. How about we paint the whole apartment green, right now?”
Tobias considered this carefully. “No, Jake.”
Jake beamed and came over to pull Tobias to him in a half-hug. Then he released him and headed for the door, calling, “Forty-five minutes, tops.”
Every morning, Tobias recited the rules in his head. Adding what Jake had told him last night was harder than expected. Not the words—he could summon Jake’s exact phrasing, but he had trouble distilling the conversation they’d had to a core rule. Was it Anytime I put my hands on you, even if it’s a single finger, in any way you don’t like, that counts as hurting you, and you should tell me to stop? He’d told Tobias specifically what that meant: You just have to say one word, or make a noise, or even pull away a little, and I’ll get it and give you some room. And he’d made Tobias promise. It worried him that Jake would accept his promise—the word of a freak didn’t mean anything—but Tobias couldn’t fix that, so he focused on the rules.
He understood the words, but he couldn’t understand why Jake thought the new parts were so important. Especially since Jake had never touched Tobias in a way he didn’t like, and Tobias didn’t think he could recognize the situation if it happened. How would Jake know? Rules Three and Four were difficult and uncertain anyway.
Then an idea struck him like Kayla’s elbow jabbing into his ribs. Maybe he could . . . ask Jake. Talk to him. Find out exactly what he meant Tobias should do, who he wanted Tobias to hit if someone tried to hurt him.
It took the rest of Jake’s run and the eight minutes of his shower for Tobias to convince himself this was feasible, that nothing bad would happen because he admitted he hadn’t fully understood the first time, that he needed Jake’s help. It was difficult to overcome the old fear and training, despite all of Jake’s kindness in the last few weeks.
Tobias waited until after they’d finished the waffles and coffee plus the scrambled eggs Jake had thrown together (more than enough food for just one meal, but Tobias had learned it was best to stop remembering before, to stop comparing). He waited for Jake to bring out his book and join him on the sofa, and then he took a deep breath.
“JAKE . . . I HAVE A question.” Tobias faced him on the couch, one leg drawn up under him, hands folded tightly over the shut book on his lap. But he met Jake’s eyes, despite all the hesitancy and apprehension written on his face. This wasn’t easy for either of them.
Jake turned to him, giving Tobias his full focus and determination. “Lay it on me.”
Tobias took a deep, rallying breath. “R-Rule Three.”
Jake rubbed behind his ear, trying and failing to recall. “Uh, right. Which one was that?”
“If someone is hurting me and I mean in any way I hit them back,” Tobias recited at top speed. “E-Even if it’s y-you.” He faltered for a moment, then continued, “Or yell at them or just get out any way I can.”
