On A Night Like This

Chapter Eight

-Dylan-

Although he'd promised himself he wouldn't let his guard down around Jayce, that promise had gone out the window as soon as Jayce's wood splitting accident happened. It was a flood of emotions for him - guilt that someone had gotten hurt on his watch, sympathy for Jayce feeling like he was unwanted, and a yearning on his part to reach out and connect with another person. And then, embarrassment about Jayce noticing that he'd opened up a little.

On the rare occasions when he'd had the chance to talk with someone, he'd kept the conversation limited to small talk. He was afraid to open up to people. He didn't want to do or say the wrong thing and give them a reason to reject him. People rejected him all the time for what was on the surface, and he didn't think he could stand to also be rejected for who he was underneath his tough, intimidating exterior.

For the rest of the day, he was quiet, only speaking to Jayce if Jayce asked a question. At night, he was hyper aware of Jayce's presence next to him in the bed. It was still awkward, but despite that, he liked having Jayce around. He wanted Jayce to like being around him too, but he didn't know how to be likeable.

Even though he was reluctant, he knew opening up to Jayce and talking with him more would probably be a good start. Jayce had confided in him about his own insecurities, and he had trusted Dylan with information about his family and relationships and his feelings about it all. Jayce had trusted him with a lot - his safety, his health, and his life. 

Now he needed to trust Jayce as well.

-Jayce-

When he woke up the next morning, Dylan was already awake and making oatmeal for both of them. Before he could get out of bed, Dylan brought one of the bowls to him.

"I thought you said you weren't going to bring me breakfast in bed?"

"It's only happening today. You know, because of your hand."

He sat up, resting his back against the wall, and took the bowl from Dylan. "Thanks."

Dylan retreated back to the other side of the cabin to stand near the stove and eat his own oatmeal. He noticed that whenever Dylan did something nice for him, he became more standoffish immediately afterwards, often changing the subject or physically taking a step back. He didn't know why, but it made him want to know more about Dylan's life and how he ended up living like this.

"What are you doing today?" he asked.

"Probably splitting wood."

"Is there anything I can do to help? It's my fault you have to do it now after I failed so miserably on my first try."

Dylan shook his head. "You should rest today. How's your hand?"

He held it up and flexed his fingers. "Sore, but I'll live."

Once he'd finished his breakfast, Dylan came back over to the bed with some antibiotic ointment and took his hand. Dylan unwrapped the bandage and carefully examined his skin before putting more ointment on the puncture wounds. The side of his hand was a little swollen, but it looked okay otherwise.

After Dylan had bandaged it again, he went outside to start chopping up the logs. Jayce stayed curled up on the bed, and pretty soon the repetitive noise of the axe hitting the logs made him drift off to sleep.

-

When he woke up a couple hours later, Dylan was inside the cabin and had dragged the chair in front of the wood stove. He was sitting in the light of the fire, and Jayce noticed he was reading a book. The book Dylan was holding looked tiny in his huge hands.