Page 91 of Too Many Beds
“Is it really you?” Ben asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Luce nods, stepping forward hesitantly. “I came back to see you. I missed you, Ben.” His eyes dart over to Alex, darkening briefly. “I didn’t know you were busy.”
The darkness in Luce’s eyes strikes a chord deep within Ben. He feels an overwhelming rush of affection, memories flooding back of laughter and secret adventures. “I missed you too,” Ben replies, his heart swelling. Part of him feels guilty, and he resists the urge to step in front of Alex, as if that is enough to make the man disappear.
Alex, still processing, crosses his arms. “So, this is your roommate,” he says slowly. “This is weird, Ben. I wouldn’t have come home with you if I knew you had a boyfriend.”
“Luce isn’t my boyfriend,” Ben defends, turning to Alex. “He’s my friend. We were?—”
“Friends?” Luce interjects, a teasing lilt in his voice that makes Ben’s cheeks flush. It sounds like flirtation—it sounds like a challenge. It sounds like Ben is getting himself in trouble.
Ben glances between them, unsure how to explain the depth of his feelings for Luce. “We … we—it’s complicated.”
Alex watches Ben look at Luce, a mix of confusion and irritation playing across his features. “I think I should go,” he says, trying to regain some semblance of control in a situation spiraling out of his grasp.
“Wait,” Ben calls out. He isn’t being fair, but he doesn’t care. He can’t help himself. “I didn’t mean to dismiss you. It’s just … Luce?—”
“Yeah, I get it,” Alex mutters, backing away slightly. “But I don’t want to be a third wheel to some angsty dynamic. Good luck with … everything.”
“Alex, I’m sorry,” Ben insists, but he can see the tension in Alex’s posture. The chemistry they had felt moments ago has vanished, replaced by awkwardness.
“Bye Ben,” Alex says, turning to leave. “See you around, I guess.”
Ben feels a pang of regret as Alex exits the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. The air feels thick and heavy, and he turns back to Luce, who watches him with an unreadable expression.
“Sorry about that,” Ben says, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t expect you to show up like this.”
Luce shrugs, his eyes searching Ben’s face. “Clearly. I wanted to see you. It’s been a long time.”
“I know,” Ben replies, stepping closer. “I’ve thought about you so much. My therapist tried to tell me I imagined you, that you were a trauma response. I very nearly believed her.” He bites off the rest of his words, swallowing back a demand of where Luce went, of why he stayed away.
“Really? You thought about me?” Luce’s voice is hopeful, and Ben nods, the intensity of their connection igniting the air between them. Luce takes a deep breath, pushing the door of the bedroom open and stepping into the living room, so close that Ben aches to touch him. “I always felt safe with you. You were my best friend.”
Ben’s heart races. “You were mine too. I always felt like you understood me in a way no one else did.”
Luce’s gaze softens, and he moves even closer. “I never stopped thinking about you. I thought about what it would be like to come back, to see you again.”
“Me too,” Ben admits, feeling the gravity of the moment. “I just didn’t know if you would … if you could. Did I … do something wrong? To make you leave?”
Luce takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “I can’t stay away anymore, Ben. I need you in my life.” He ignores Ben’s questions, but Ben doesn’t care. Luce’s presence and his words are as potent as amphetamines. Ben feels lightheaded from them.
Ben’s breath catches, and he feels a wave of emotion wash over him. “I need you too.” It's the easiest thing he’s ever admitted, and he can’t help himself: he reaches out and pulls Luce into his arms, tucking the smaller man against his bare chest.
They stand there for a moment, suspended in time, the world outside fading away. Luce’s hand reaches up, brushing against Ben’s cheek, and the touch sends shivers down Ben’s spine. Luce sighs, his breath hot against Ben’s skin. Luce slumps against him, giving up his weight with an ease that goes right to Ben’s head, sending blood rushing south.
“You’re not … angry with me?” Luce asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ben shakes his head, unable to speak, his heart pounding. He is, a little, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the man in his arms, the race of his heart, the weight of this moment. Luce looks up at him, the size difference between them emphasized by their closeness.
Slowly, Ben leans down, alert for any hint of discomfort, any sign of retreat. It never comes. When their lips finally meet, it feels like igniting a cigarette with a blowtorch: breathtaking, terrifying and hot. Ben feels all the years of longing pour into that kiss, the warmth of Luce’s presence wrapping around him like a boa constrictor, lulling and deadly.
Luce pulls back slightly, his eyes searching Ben’s face. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want me.”
“I have always,” Ben admits, feeling the burn of the words in his throat, “wanted you.” There’s a hint of his rage in his voice. But this isn’t the time for it. Not tonight, when everything is so raw.
Luce smiles, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Will you let me stay? I’ll leave, but only if you make me.”
Ben laughs, the sound bubbling up from deep within him. He wants to inform Luce that he cannot leave, that Ben won’t let him, that he would rather tie him to his bed, never permit him to leave his sight, but Luce isn’t human. The truth is, Ben can no more keep him against his will than he can a shadow.