Page 50 of Caught Running
The breath audibly stuttered out of Brandon as he tightened his arms around Jake. “I’m glad,” he murmured against warm skin.
Jake ducked his head to nuzzle against Brandon’s temple and sighed. “I need to go get my pills,” he whispered regretfully. He didn’t want to get up, but he knew if he left it much longer he wouldn’t sleep at all.
Brandon sighed too and started to move. “Stay here. I’ll get them,” he murmured, rolling out of the bed and padding out toward the kitchen.
“Don’t forget the alcohol!” Jake called out as he lay in bed shivering at the sudden loss of warmth.
“Don’t get your hopes up!” Brandon yelled back from the stairs. Wincing a little at the cold tile in the kitchen, he opened the cabinet he’d seen Jake get into, frowned at all the little bottles, and started reading labels.
Thinking about the cabinet, Jake huffed and rolled out of bed, wincing as he stood. Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. After the fact was when it hurt to move. He padded through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen to slide up behind Brandon. Reaching into the cabinet for the large prescription bottle on the bottom shelf, he kissed the back of Brandon’s shoulder, then turned to the refrigerator.
“Jake, most of these are expired; why do you keep them? These types of drugs don’t keep their efficacy, you might as well be taking sugar pills,” Brandon said with a frown, poking around through the bottles. “And some could be dangerous if mixed.”
“The labels don’t mean shit,” Jake answered as he reached in for a beer and straightened back up to lean against the island.
Brandon threw an annoyed look over his shoulder. “Please tell me you don’t mix and match these. Really,” he asked.
Jake shrugged noncommittally and popped the two pills into his mouth before twisting open the beer cap.
Brandon looked nervous and on the edge of scared. He glanced back to the cabinet, then back to Jake. “If I quit giving you the eye about the muscle relaxers and the beer, will you let me throw the rest of this shit out?” he asked seriously.
“Maybe.”
“Jake,” Brandon protested, voice pained. “I really, really would like to know you’re going to wake up every morning.”
Jake sighed and his shoulders slumped. “It’s not that big a deal.”
Brandon literally flinched, and he turned his chin sharply away, unable to verbalize anything after what felt like it might as well have been a punch in the gut. He twisted his body away from Jake’s, gripping the edge of the bar to keep from reaching for him.
Jake watched Brandon’s reaction and his stomach turned as he stood there. He sighed softly and looked away, shaking his head as he tapped his finger on his beer bottle. “Brandon,” he finally said.
Forcing himself to take a breath and blink burning eyes, Brandon turned his chin just enough to acknowledge him. Jake took a step forward and slid up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and setting the bottle on the counter. He rested his chin on Brandon’s shoulder and looked up into the still open cabinet. “What do you want me to do?” he asked quietly.
He suspected Jake meant the pills, and Brandon did make his eyes focus on the several rows of bottles, but what he had inside had to come out. “I want you to wake up each morning,” he said in a fragile voice. “With me.”
Jake turned his head just enough to press his nose against the side of Brandon’s neck. There were a lot of different meanings he could take from that, he knew. Was Brandon still talking about the pills and the possible danger of taking them, or was he talking about something more personal? Either way, it was a tricky subject, wasn’t it?
“Then stay here with me,” Jake responded finally, not giving himself a chance to think it through.
Brandon relaxed back against Jake, sliding his hands over strong forearms to settle over Jake’s fingers. How they’d gotten onto such shaky ground, he didn’t know. Brandon cursed himself for getting too serious too fast, although Jake seemed to be right there with him. “I want to,” he whispered. Then his voice strengthened. “And I want to flush most of this shit down the toilet,” he added.
“That would make me mighty cranky,” Jake muttered with a sigh. “You do realize most of those aren’t even prescription pills, right? I’ve put over the counter stuff in the smaller bottles because the shelves are so small. And the prescription stuff Ido take is the only thing keeping me moving at all,” he argued, trying not to get defensive.
Brandon’s eyes softened, and he turned his chin to rub his forehead against Jake’s chin. “I want you to take care of yourself,” he said helplessly, still frowning at the bottles. “I hate that you hurt.”
“So do I,” Jake laughed wryly, reaching out to pluck a bottle at random off the shelf. He opened and dumped several of the pills out onto the counter. “Tylenol Arthritis,” he said as he turned one of the huge white pills so that the name could be read. He reached for another and repeated the action, revealing a mound of little bitty pink Benadryl pills. Another container held blue and white Tylenol PM tablets. And another Jake pulled out revealed several Tylox. He pointed at them and said, “I’m allergic to those, but they’re stronger. If I’m hurting real bad I take one of those and two Benadryl with it.”
Surprised, Brandon watched in silence as Jake went through several of the bottles with him. It was more than he could have hoped for, considering. Matching up the number of surgeries with the pain and looking over the medicines spread across the bar, Brandon’s gut cramped uncomfortably. “I think I understand the beer a little more now,” he murmured. He didn’t like it. But he understood it. He was also more upset, because this revealed just how much pain Jake must be living with daily. Just living with. His hand curled into a fist.
Jake smiled a little, his chin still on Brandon’s shoulder. “And,” he held his breath for a moment, sighing heavily and pushing at the bottle of Vicodin. “If you really want me to give those up, we’re talking a few weeks of withdrawal. I’d rather wait till summer if it’s all the same to you.”
The anger drained away as Brandon comprehended what Jake was offering. His fist relaxed, and he reached up behind him to curl his arm about Jake’s neck. It was a hell of a peaceoffering. “How about we talk about it when school’s out?” he posed, knowing he was making several large assumptions based on Jake’s words.
“And until then you stop worrying?” Jake countered.
Brandon licked his bottom lip, looking across the counter and the host of pills. “I’ll try,” he promised in a hoarse voice.
Jake sighed again and nodded as he lifted his head off Brandon’s shoulder and kissed the warm skin gently. “I’ve been doing this for over ten years,” he murmured, “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” His voice, although the tone was reassuring, sounded slightly bitter and tinged with sadness. It was obvious that Jake had long ago resigned himself to pain every day. He was willing to give up the prescription pills because the reality was that theydidn’thelp all that much.