Page 90 of Too Many Beds
Ben steps out into the hallway, the clamor of the facility surrounding him. He walks, keeping his head down, trying to push away the turmoil inside him. It’s only a few minutes until quiet time, when all the boys will be locked in their rooms for the night, but Ben has just enough time to get a few lungfuls of fresh air.
He passes the common room where boys are gathered, playing games and watching TV. The atmosphere is lively, and part of him wants to join, to be part of something that feels normal, but he feels disconnected, like he’s watching through a glass wall.
Instead, he finds himself in a small courtyard, the tall fences painted a once-cheerful blue, the cool air a welcome relief against his skin. He heads towards a squat bench, the only seat in the small bit of nature they have access to. A few trees stand tall, their leaves rustling gently in the wind.
Ben sinks onto the bench, his heart heavy with thoughts of his missing friend.Where are you?he wonders, staring up at the sky as clouds drift lazily by.Are you safe?He doesn’t know muchabout his monster’s life when he is away from Ben, but he knows it’s bad, and the worry gnaws at his belly.
“Luce?” he whispers, half-hoping for a response.
Nothing. Just the distant sounds of the facility and the chirping of birds overhead.
As he sits there, the weight of loneliness settles over him like a shroud. Maybe it was selfish to expect Luce to return, to slip back into his life as if nothing had changed. Ben feels a pang of guilt wash over him. Luce did what he could; now it is Ben who needs to find his own way.
A flicker of movement at the edge of the courtyard draws his attention. He squints into the shadows and seessomething—his heart leaps, he jumps to his feet—but it's just a squirrel, twitching its russet tail before scrambling up a tree, leaving Ben alone once again.
The shrill squeal of the bell cuts through the evening air, summoning Ben back to his room.
Ten Years Later
Ben stands in his apartment, the soft glow of city lights filtering through the curtains, casting neon shadows across the floor as cars hum on the streets below. The air is thick with anticipation, and the faint sound of music pulses from his speakers. He shifts nervously, glancing at the clock. His heart races, a mixture of excitement and anxiety coursing through him. Alex is in the bathroom, the pretty young man ‘freshening up’ from his night spent dancing with his friends at the bar Ben works security for.
He doesn’t make it a habit to take party boys home after work, but Alex is just his type—small and lithe and shifty, an echo of something it hurts to remember.
As he shrugs off his shirt and lights a candle, he tries to shake off the feeling that something is off. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s a restlessness in the back of his mind, a flicker of longing that makes him uneasy.
It’s been a decade. He’s been through therapy, and he’s rejoined society with a sealed record and a job that pays the rent on his tiny one-bedroom apartment, with any extra cash going toward ramen and Cheerios.
Alex creeps out of the bathroom, his eyeliner highlighting the blue of his shy eyes as he runs them hungrily over Ben’s chest. Ben grins at him, the flicker of arousal drowning out his melancholy.
“Hey.” Ben grins at Alex, reaching for his hand and pulling him down to sit on the couch, the tension between them electric. Alex makes a joke, and Ben laughs, trying to keep the mood light until the time is right and he can lean in, cupping the back of Alex’s head to kiss him, the condom and lube waiting on the coffee table.
Just as their lips nearly touch, a soft, almost imperceptible scratching noise drifts from the closed door of his bedroom. Ben’s heart skips a beat. He glances toward the sound, his breath hitching. It can’t be. Not now.
Alex notices the shift in Ben’s demeanor. “You okay?” he asks breathily, a hint of concern in his voice, eyes darting to the bedroom door and back.
“Yeah, I just … thought I heard something,” Ben replies, forcing a smile. He tries to shake it off, but the scratching grows louder, more insistent. The memories come flooding back: the late-night conversations, the laughter, the warmth of friendshipmixed with something deeper. Luce, his tender monster, his childhood protector—how long has it been?
Before he can process his emotions, the scratching turns into a soft thump, and Ben’s heart races. Alex’s brow furrows as he shifts his attention to the source of the noise.
“Is your place haunted or something?” he jokes, but there’s a nervous edge to his laughter.
Ben chuckles awkwardly, but his mind is elsewhere. “Just my roommate,” he says, even though he knows the truth. The unbelievable, unbearable truth.
“You have a roommate?” Alex asks, shifting away from Ben. Ben doesn’t care; he barely even notices, his eyes fixed on the slowly turning doorknob. The door creaks open, a slice of light falls over the wooden floor, and then –
Luce’s face appears, his shimmering skin glistening in the low light, his large eyes wide with surprise. The sight of him sends a jolt through Ben, emotions swirling within him until he feels dizzy and light headed.
Luce is older now, taller, with a sharper face, but there is no denying that Ben is looking at the now grown-up face of a childhood friend he almost managed to convince himself was imaginary.
“Ben?” Luce’s voice is tentative, filled with a mixture of excitement and fear.
“Luce?” Ben gasps, standing up instinctively. The world outside fades away as he focuses on the figure before him. Memories rush back—playing hide and seek, whispering secrets, a bond that transcended the ordinary.
Alex’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “What the hell is going on?”
Ben swallows hard, caught between two worlds. “This is Luce. He’s—my roommate. I’m sorry, I don’t think now is a good time. Do you have money for a taxi? Can I call you an Uber?”
“An Uber? But—” Alex’s voice is laced with frustration, but Ben barely hears him. All he can focus on is Luce, who stands there, mostly hidden by the door, looking both ethereal and vulnerable.