Page 55 of Break the Rule
Kicking his shoes off by the door, Eden can’t shake the urge to run again. He hangs his key by the door and reminds himself he belongs here.
One. Two. Three.Slowly, he breathes in and out while walking into the kitchen and flipping the light Addy left for him off before making his way to the bathroom. Quiet as he can, he starts the water, letting it run hot while he strips off his clothes and tosses them into the corner. He scrubs himself clean, watching the way his eye makeup runs down the drain. He’s never bothered buying waterproof. Eden doesn’t cry.
Or, he didn’t.
The last time he cried had been the first time he held Ella. Those first few months living with Addy, he’d had one foot out the door. Hadn’t unpacked his backpack, he’d taken it everywhere with him just in case he never went back home. It wasn’t until Ella was born, until he’d held her in his arms—her tiny hand wrapping around his finger—that Eden had cried. Cried for the first time since he was seven, since his first foster parents had given him back after finding him wearing one of his foster sister’s dresses.
Ella was so small. So innocent. So fragile. So free from the kind of pain and trauma that Eden had endured from the moment he took his first breath as a drug addicted baby to an addict mom who dropped him off on the steps of a fire station and never looked back. He doesn’t blame his mom. She probably thought she left him somewhere safe. Joke’s on her, or Eden, because nothing about Eden’s life had been safe until the day Addy pulled him off the streets.
Thoughts of Addy and Ella continue to run through his mind as he showers. The hot water is gone by the time Eden steps out. The shock of cold air after the hot water makes him tremble as he roughly dries himself. In his room, he pulls on his boxers and an oversized t-shirt, adding one of his favorite worn hoodies over it, but he can’t shake the cold. He pulls his covers back, knowing he needs sleep but unable to crawl in.
Without really making the conscious decision, he finds himself moving towards Addy and Ella’s room, quietly opening the door. The room is basked in the soft pink and purple glow from Ella’s star projector. She’s curled in the corner, nothing but the top of her bonnet visible from beneath her mound of blankets. Eden tiptoes past her towards Addy’s bed in the corner, hovering.
Standing beside her bed, he starts to shake, and it has nothing to do with the cold. As a child, there’d been no one’s bed to climb into when he was scared. No safe reprieve. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, but it’s been long enough that it feels like it.
Unable to bring himself to move, he stands there frozen, staring at Addy’s slumbering form and tracking her familiar features. He loves her round cheeks and wide mouth, loves the shape of her smile and the sweet lilt of her voice. Addy feels like home, and right now what Eden needs more than anything is to be reminded that he’s safe here. Except he can’t bring himself to move, the voices in his head—reminding him of all the times he thought he was finally somewhere safe only to be given back—are so fucking loud.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries not to cry, nearly jumping out of his skin when soft hands touch his face.
“Eden.”
Her voice is a balm to the jagged edges of Eden’s fear, and Eden crumbles, falling into her arms like a child.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Addy pulls him into bed, tucking herself around Eden and holding him close. “You’re home, Eden. This is your home.”
“I’m sorry,” Eden chokes.
“It’s okay,” Addy tells him, lips pressed to his forehead. “It’s okay.”
“I know I promised. I didn’t mean to get home late,” he chokes, breaths stuttering in and out with painful force. He tries to stay quiet, afraid of waking Ella even though she sleeps like a rock. “My phone died and—” but he can’t get it out, can’t bring himself to mention Charlie. The confusion and shame is so fucking bright, it’s blinding.
“Eden.” Addy’s voice is quiet but firm.
“Yeah?”
“Go to sleep, sweetie. You’re exhausted. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“I’m sorry,” he cries.
“I know, baby. I know.” She wraps him up in her embrace, the familiar scent of her floral body wash and the warmth of her body soothing him. Though they’re the same size, her presence is big enough to surround him as she holds him tight, humming. Eden recognizes the tune as the lullaby she sings Ella before bed.
Focusing on the vibrations of the song she hums, the last fragile piece of Eden’s heart shatters as he drifts to sleep.
Memoriesfrom the night before flood Eden’s brain the moment he wakes. The running and the crying, but most of allthe kiss. Fuck that kiss.
Kissing was something Eden used to enjoy, before it got tainted and twisted by the kind of people who paid for Eden’stime and used it to toy with him. Used it to remind him who was in control and what he was.
The last client Eden took liked kissing. He liked reminding Eden he could do anything he wanted with him, and Eden let him because he was scared, lost, and hungry, and you let people do whatever they want to you when you think that’s all you deserve.
The day Eden stopped turning tricks was the last time he kissed anyone. Kissing did stupid things to Eden’s brain, tricked him into believing he was more than someone’s two dollar fantasy. His no kissing rule had served him really fucking well over the last few years. He didn’t hook up often, and when he did it was usually a quick hand job or maybe him blowing them, nothing else. This firm boundary put him in complete control, the kind of control he’s been losing since the day he met Charlie fucking King.
Stupid fucking Charlie with his stupid fucking mouth that never stops running. He’s so cocky and confident and playful, and even when what he says irritates the fuck out of Eden, he likes it. More complicating is that he likes the shape of Charlie’s mouth and the way it felt against his own when Charlie kissed him. Because fuck had Charlie kissed him. He’d been surprised at first, that much had been clear in the way he’d gone stiff when Eden crashed their mouths together, but it’d only taken a second for him to return the kiss.
More surprising than him kissing Eden back had been the way he’d let Eden control it. He hadn’t been passive—that doesn’t seem to be a thing Charlie understands—but he’d matched Eden’s intensity without trying to dive deeper. He’d let Eden push yet never pushed back. Somehow that was what did Eden in. The gentle way Charlie met his demands, that hand at his lower back, had broken Eden, and he’d panicked and run.
Thinking about it makes Eden’s head pound. He wishes he could take it all back.Allof it. Everything in Eden’s life would be easier if he’d never fucked Charlie. He was fine pretending he didn’t want or need anything.
Frustrated and confused, he rolls over and pummels the pillow beneath him, but it doesn’t make him feel better, so he settles for rolling out of bed, unsure how he feels more tired than when he crashed in Addy’s bed last night.
