Page 45 of Inferno
“Then, when I was sixteen, he got an infection in his chest. It started out with just a cough, but then he started coughing up blood. As the months went by, he found it harder and harder to breathe, and he lost a lot of weight. I got a doctor in to see him three or four times, but each time, they said the same thing; they didn’t know what was causing the cough, and there wasn’t much they could do for him, aside from relieving the pain.
“He passed away one night, not long after my seventeenth birthday. It wasn’t much of a shock; I’d been expecting it for some time. By that point, I’d pretty much taken over the business. I was making shirts and trousers and skirts, following the patterns he’d used for years, and trying to keep the shop going by ordering fabrics in some new colours.
“We had a cottage out on the south side of town. And my father rented a shop further from the city centre. There were still regular customers, but not as much in the way of passing traffic as there is here. After my father died, I hired an accountant to go through the books. I knew there wasn’t much money, but it turned out to be far worse than I’d expected. The rent was more than six months overdue, and my father had been lying to me about how much we were supposed to pay, because he knew we couldn’t afford it.
“By the time I realised how bad it was, the only option I had was to sell the cottage. I used a lot of the money to pay the overdue rent, then used the rest to buy this shop. With a substantial loan from the bank, of course. And then…”
“And then?” Nerik was watching him intently, his head propped on his hands as he leaned on Yorin’s chest. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bored by the story. So Yorin continued, feeling a thrill of trepidation, even at the memory of that time.
“And then I was free. Without any tether. It was terrifying and liberating at the same time. I could experiment with any kind of pattern or fabric or colour I wanted to. I started inventing new styles, things that my father would never have allowed me to make, things he would have ridiculed. And some of them were ridiculous,” Yorin admitted, without shame. “But at the same time, I had no safety net, no one to guide me, no one to rein in the more outlandish ideas I had. I had to make enough profit to keep paying the loan off, but that was really the only restriction I had.
“In the first six months, I definitely took things too far. I thought creativity could solve all of my problems, and that new customers from the centre of the city would love whatever I made. It was a rude shock when they didn’t, and I got behind in my repayments. The manager of the bank gave me a very stern talking to, and then, for the next six months, I went too far the other way. I finally realised why my father had been so conservative, and so I followed in his footsteps. But that wasn’t much better. I caught up with my payments, but there was little money left over, just enough for the bare essentials, but nothing for even the slightest luxury. And I realised I didn’t want to live that way either, just toeing the line and never doing anything interesting.
“After that, I finally managed to find something of a middle ground. I allowed myself to make one experimental piece each week, and stick to the basics for the rest. That way, I could learn new techniques and see what the public wanted, but not throw too much money at outlandish ideas. And as time went by, I got better at anticipating what people would buy and what they wouldn’t, and where I could push the envelope. It was eight years ago that I bought this place. It’s been a rough ride at times, but all in all, it’s worked out pretty well.”
“Did you ever think of abandoning being a tailor and breaking away to do something else? Going on your own adventures, maybe?”
“Honestly, I think I just didn’t see the point. A lot of people I spoke to were all comingtoMinia looking for adventure; big city, close to the gate, warriors everywhere. So where was I going to go? I could go to any other city and it would just be the same; same shops, same trades, just less of the army getting in everyone’s way. And travelling randomly through the countryside never really appealed. A lot of people would probably think that’s boring, just sitting in the same city for the whole of my life, but I’ve never really had a problem with it.”
“I’m not suggesting you should,” Nerik said, tracing patterns on Yorin’s chest with a fingertip. “I’m rather glad you stayed, to be honest. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here now.” He flexed his hips, pressing his half-hard erection into Yorin’s thigh. “I guess I’m just kind of the opposite. I wanted to stay in the region where I was created, and I was forced to leave.”
“So that wasn’t Azertel, then,” Yorin asked, a wry smirk on his lips.
Nerik grinned. “Not Azertel. I’ll tell you the real story one day. Just maybe once you’ve had time to get used to all this a bit more. I know it’s a lot to deal with, all at once.”
Yorin’s cock was taking an interest, now that Nerik’s had seemed to decide to sit up and pay attention. He ran a hand down Nerik’s hip, then hitched his thigh up to wrap around his own hip, allowing greater contact between their bodies.
Nerik followed his cue and slid his body over so that he was straddling Yorin again. He leaned down and kissed him… but then pulled back, a curious expression on his face. “What would your father have thought of you dating a demon?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Nerik wasn’t entirely sure what response he’d been expecting from such a confrontational question. He’d asked it impulsively, trying to probe deeper into Yorin’s thoughts about him, and then he’d regretted the question almost the instant he’d asked it. Yorin had been entirely decent throughout the whole afternoon, and Nerik had no reason to be deliberately antagonising him.
“You’re not a demon,” Yorin said, without blinking.
“Okay, about you dating a Chalandrian, then?”
Yorin looked annoyed for a moment, and he sat up, nudging Nerik to climb off him. He did, wondering if he’d gone too far with this one. He’d already admitted to himself that he was only asking out of insecurity. So why keep pushing?
“He would never have known I was dating a Chalandrian, because I would never have told him. What I do know is that he would have damn near had a heart attack from me dating another man.”
Nerik paused in his attempts to arrange his legs comfortably. “What? Why?” This bed was too small. Any position that was even halfway comfortable involved kicking Yorin in the leg.
“He was very much of the opinion that happiness came from a traditional way of life; a wife, children, working hard and being good to your neighbours. That was it, as far as he was concerned. That was life. And all these people chasing glory as warriors, or running about the countryside in theatre troupes, or whatever, they were all doomed to wake up one day and realise how hollow their lives were. I think he even believed his own rhetoric. But by the time he passed away, I’d realised he was just as miserable as everyone else, even after having pursued his so called ideal life.
“You can get a wife, but she might run off. You can have children, but they might die of a fever. You can work as hard as you like, but your shop might burn down. He could never manage to see that different people wanted different things. Clothing was the same. He thought everyone wanted the same fashions as last year, and if a pair of trousers was sturdy and comfortable, why change them? I think in many ways, I would have been a disappointment to him.”
Nerik was tempted to say something about the man’s short-sightedness… but firstly, he realised it would be rude to speak ill of the dead, and secondly, he was reluctant to say too much when he’d never actually met the man. It was one thing for Yorin to complain about his father. It was quite another for a random stranger to do it.
“When did you realise you liked men, rather than women.” Nerik was avoiding his eyes, plucking at a thread on the blanket.
“Around the time my father got sick,” Yorin said. “I suppose that’s why I never did much about it. At that age, a lot of the young men were out and about, flirting with women, spending time in the pubs or at the festival, trying to figure out what they wanted in a wife. But I was stuck at home, looking after my father and trying to figure out how to run his business without him. It was a relief, in a way, that I didn’t have to pretend to like girls. And I had no idea how to flirt with men, so that would have been a disaster.”
“I think that would have been cute,” Nerik said, grinning at Yorin. “Watching you get all flustered. Seeing you blush.”
“I think you’ve seen me blush quite enough today already,” Yorin said, with mock sternness. They were both still sitting there, completely naked, and Nerik once more considered the idea of tumbling Yorin back into the rumpled bed.
But other, less pleasurable but more pressing needs were playing on his mind. “I don’t mean to cut and run,” he said, hoping Yorin didn’t take offence to his leaving, “but I have a couple of last minute errands to run today. I missed a couple of days of making money, and I really need to catch up.”