Page 52 of Heat Transfer
My heart thudded hard. I sped up a few paces to grab his hand. “Nothing about you is useless, Cormac Brannon. I’m pretty partial to every little thing about you.” My skin felt like it’d been peeled back with how vulnerable those words were, but thank fuck, Cor didn’t respond, simply squeezed my hand as we headed into his living room.
“So, Metroid or Mario?” He let go of my hand and sank into the couch. The coffee table held a grocery bag and a large paper bag that smelled like meat and cheese.
“Metroid, babe,” I said, my curiosity getting the better of me. I popped open the grocery bag, which held unsweetened iced tea and a bag of tostones chips. My eyes watered slightly because fuck allergies, and I swallowed hard. Goddamnit, he was the most thoughtful person I knew. And he supported me in ways that didn’t make me feel weak or like shit. Just lifted me up when I needed it.
Fuck waiting. Fuck questioning the best damn thing to ever land in my lap.
Cor was it for me.
He was the first person I wanted to talk to every day, and we texted until late in the night. And it had been that way from the moment we met.
I wasn’t always the brightest, but I wouldn’t pass up on pure magic when I recognized it. I understood how rare connections like this were.
When I turned to face him, an intense sense of déjà vu struck, along with roiling in my stomach. The sensation grew, freezing me to the spot.
Oh, shit.
“Cor, seizure,” I murmured and followed the steps I’d taken a million times before. I slowly lowered to the ground, moving away from the coffee table, and turned onto my side. The seconds stretched out for ages while at the same time zipped by faster than I could count. Cor dropped to his knees beside me with a thump. Everything slowed to a molasses crawl, my stomach in a full-out riot. My limbs felt frozen, my mind like a static storm was about to descend.
“Fuck, what do I—”
Before I could respond, the seizure overtook me.
My body ached.
“You’re going to be okay.” Cor’s voice soothed with a steadiness I’d heard in brief instances, even though most of whatever amount of time had passed was a big ol’ blank spot. I flexed my fingers. Thank god I had control, even if the muscle movement was weak.
I blinked hard, trying to regain my vision.
I hated this part. Well, I hated all of it, to be honest, but the coming back online after a seizure was the worst. The embarrassment at how helpless I’d been, not knowing what had happened during. Those unknowns made me feel flayed open in the worst possible way, and in that vulnerable state, I had to deal with bystanders—whoever happened to witness it.
My head ached, but no worse than it had in the morning, which should’ve been a tip-off. I’d been feeling off all day, butI’d been so distracted I hadn’t paid attention to the prodromal phase. Bully for me.
Cor loomed over me, his hand heavy on my hip. He stared down at me, those gorgeous blues widened in fear. My chest sank. This…this was where it would change.
“Hey,” I murmured, my voice raspy. I didn’t want to move my limbs, which were trying to sink into the hardwood flooring, but that would get uncomfortable as shit soon.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Cor reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers along my jaw. “You asshole. You never warned me how scary that shit is to watch.”
I tried to crack a grin, but my muscles still fought me. I hadn’t glanced down to see the state of the rest of me because that required a bit more movement than I was ready for. The worst times were when I lost control of my bladder or bowels during seizures, which wasn’t frequent, but fuck. The self-loathing that followed was rough. The idea of Cor seeing me like that? Dread trickled through me, weighing me down even more.
The seizures hit less frequently than when I was a kid, but in a way, that made it worse. Some days, I got it into my head that I was cured, that finding the right meds had fixed me, so when they did descend, my ego took the blow too.
I sucked in a deep breath and tried to lift my arms again. Cor wasn’t moving, just kneeling next to me with that quiet steadiness I loved about him. I’d expected him to be fluttering over me, having a major reaction I’d have to manage too, but instead, he stayed silent, his palm resting on my hip.
“Give me an arm up.” I hated that I needed the assistance but wanted to be upright at a faster pace than I was capable of. Once I could assess the damage, I could start figuring out my situation.
Cor offered his arm and yanked me upright with ease. Thankfully, the postseizure symptoms were gone, just a mild headache and the weakness in my limbs that would fade.
I glanced down at my pants. Thank fuck. “At least I didn’t shit myself.”
“That’d be a crap situation,” Cor said deadpan.
I stared at him, dumbstruck. “Was that a joke?”
He winced and squeezed his nape. “Obviously, not a great one. So—”
Before he could apologize, I leaned forward and brushed my lips to his. Pure joy filtered through my system, even in the wake of the scare. Holy fuck, this man. Over the years, I’d faced every sort of reaction to my seizures, but no one had ever cracked a joke right after one. It made me feel normal in a way I needed, and it only confirmed the truth that had been circling in my brain.