Page 134 of Something Like Winter

“He was barely coherent when his friends brought him in. Since they’ve gone he’s lost consciousness. Do you know what he took?”

“Could have been anything,” Tim said. “Probably a mix.”

“Okay. Well, if you’ll wait here, we’ll start the gastric lavage and see how he does.”

“What?”

“We need to pump his stomach. Please have a seat.”

“I want to be there with him.”

Dr. Phillips sighed testily. “It’s better if you wait. It isn’t a pleasant process.”

“I’m his boyfriend. I have a right to be there.” Tim doubted that was true, but Dr. Phillips gave in.

He followed her to a small room. Ryan lay motionless on his back, the color drained from his face, reminding Tim of Eric’s death. For a moment he was sure Ryanwasdead, that his conversation with Dr. Phillips had cost them precious time, but the doctor didn’t seem overly concerned when she checked on Ryan. Soon a nurse entered, rolling equipment behind her.

“You can sit next to the bed if you want,” Dr. Phillips said. “Can I hold his hand?”

“Of course.”

The doctor took a clear tube from the tangle of machinery and inserted it into Ryan’s nose, slowly feeding more and more in through the nostril. That was all Tim could take. Gripping Ryan’s clammy hand, he looked away, sometimes even closing his eyes to pray. Where were those friends of his now? How long had Ryan been messed up before they decided to bring him in? If Ryan died, Tim would never forgive himself. He should have been there with him, keeping him safe, even if Ryan was a selfish brat.

Once the process had begun, the doctor left them in the nurse’s care. After what felt like an eternity, the tubes were pulled out of Ryan’s nose and the nurse took away the horrible machine. The room smelled like bile. Tim found traces around Ryan’s nostril and wiped it clean with a tissue. Then he kissed Ryan’s forehead, whispering to him that everything was going to be okay, that all was forgiven.

Hours passed before Ryan awoke, but when he did, Tim was still at his side, holding his hand.

“I don’t feel good,” Ryan rasped. “Where am I?”

“The emergency room.”

Ryan’s eyes found him and his face grew pained. “What are you doing here?”

“You gave the nurses my number.”

Ryan tried to pull his hand away but Tim wouldn’t let go.

“You don’t have to stay here,” Ryan said. “I know you don’t want to. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

“I don’t hate you, but you can’t keep doing this. You overdosed. Do you realize that? You almost died.”

“I don’t care.” Ryan’s face crumpled. “I’m such a fuck-up. I ruined everything!”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Tim stood. “I’m going to get the doctor and tell her you’re awake. We’re going to get you better, and then you’re coming home with me. Okay?”

Ryan wiped away the tears and nodded, Tim stooping to hug him. They could make this right. If Ryan was willing to try, they could fix this.

* * * * *

Three days of sweet Ryan holding his hand, cuddling against him on the couch, listening to his stories and laughing at his jokes. For seventytwo hours, everything was back to normal. At the end of the third day, they tried having sex, Tim telling Ryan he needed to be tested in between kisses. But then Ryan’s dark side revealed itself, and Tim couldn’t continue. Hitting, biting, spanking, choking—Tim was literally sick of it. The idea of returning to that made him nauseous, and he couldn’t stop thinking about where Stephen had been and what they had done together.

“I’m tired,” Tim said, shifting away from Ryan and pulling up the covers.

“I’m not! What the hell?” Ryan tugged at him and fumed, eventually stomping out of the room. Tim let him go.

The next morning he found Ryan passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of champagne on the coffee table. Tim had thrown out all the alcohol before bringing Ryan home from the hospital, but hadn’t thought of the bottle he kept chilled for Marcello. When Ryan woke up that afternoon, he was all piss and vinegar, every word venomous and calculated to infuriate Tim. Maybe he was expected to get angry and take it out on Ryan sexually, but Tim couldn’t play that game anymore. Instead he went upstairs to his office, whiling away the hours on the Internet. Naturally he kept returning to the website for the Twilight Theater. Ben was performing again tonight.

Would Ryan be up for a show? He knew all about Ben, of course, but unless Ryan carefully read the playbill, he would never suspect a thing. It could be good, the two of them getting out. Maybe they could talk over the whole sex thing afterwards.