What Doesn't Kill You

Chapter 2

"How are your friends?" I asked trying to make conversation.

Black walked into my house and made himself comfortable at my desk like he always did. I was sitting on the couch with my legs up. His idea. Black wanted me up and about but he wasn't willing to let me go anywhere without him.

"Do you care?" He asked and it sounded like he wanted to know what I thought.

"I've always cared."

His grunt told me exactly what he thought about that but I didn't know what it would take to change his mind. Yet he didn't dismiss me outright. I thought he was going to say something more but the silence drew out until I couldn't stand it anymore.

I no longer had his attention. He had turned to his books and was leafing through a sheaf of handwritten notes. A deep frown marring his forehead. I had never seen Black doing homework. I had never seen him do any kind of work at all, except beat the crap out of someone who crossed him. This was new to me and I liked it more than I thought I would.

I was on the mend. The aches and pains had given way to a muted soreness that only bothered me if I overdid it. I could concentrate on work better. I could stay awake for longer. I could obsess about Black more.

And that kiss.

He acted as though nothing had happened. Maybe I was reading too much into it. It had affected me more than it had him and yet he's the one who'd done it to me. What harm could come from forgetting about it? It's not like we could ever...

"What the hell...?"

Black's exclamation startled me enough that I jumped. I wasn't at my best if something so small could send me into fight or flight mode. Yet it wasn't so ridiculous if the object of my fear, both physical and psychological, was sitting only three feet away. 

"Why so skittish, Todd?" Black goaded.

"You're the one shouting for nothing," I shouted back.

I was letting my temper get the better of me. I hated feeling out of control and Black was convenient. I counted to ten, to calm myself down, then did it again.

He imitated me with a childish singsong voice before pulling the pen I was holding out of my hand.

"If you keep drumming on your book any harder, you'll leave marks."

"Are you worried about the book or me?"

"I'm worried about your sanity. Was being a criminal so vital that you've lost the will to work?"

Black was an idiot if he thought this had anything to do with work. "No...it wasn't that important."

"Good. Stop mooning about and get your head in the game."

His words were closer to the truth than I liked. I had let myself get distracted by thoughts that had no place between us. We worked in silence for the next hour or so. Or rather he worked and I thought about us. I had to get better at hiding what I was thinking—again. Black would not appreciate me thinking about him like this. I just didn't know how to stop yet.

Black got up abruptly and put his books in a neat pile. I expected him to say something but he walked to the door without a word.

"Where are you going?" I asked hearing the desperation in my voice and hating myself for it.

"When did my life become your business?"

I got up slowly. Reaching for the walking stick and making my way to him. His concern was absolute. He didn't move. He just watched me like a hawk until I was standing in front of him. But he didn't reach out to me like I had hoped.

"It's always been my business."

"Don't strain yourself." Was he talking about minding him or minding myself? "I'll see you later."

"Wait," I said taking the last step to bring us together.

I cupped his cheek and he automatically pulled away. I had to let go of the walking stick to frame his face and hold him still.

"Stop," I ordered him. Miraculously, he listened.

When I leaned forward and placed my mouth on his, I didn't expect anything. What I got was confirmation that our first kiss was not an anomaly. Sparks flew. Heat pooled in all the right places. When I didn't pull away as quickly as Black had the first time, what started as a peck turned into a make-out session with him holding me and kissing me and making it impossible to breathe.

This was so bad...and so good.

He pushed me away and I stumbled. Only for him to grab me before I hit the ground. Pulling me back into his arms. Holding me so it was easy to place my head on his shoulder. Easier still to turn it and press my lips to his neck.

"Todd...what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You kissed me," I reminded him.

"That was weeks ago."

"I've been thinking about it."

"Why?"

"I needed to know."

"Know what?"

"If it was you being you or if it was something...else."

"Don't confuse me with White. This is not my thing."

"Right..." I said and cupped the juncture of his thighs. The hard column belying his words, "...maybe you're the confused one."

I pulled away before he could do anything in retaliation. Using the furniture and walls to guide myself back to the couch was an inelegant, yet effective retreat. I was dying to hear what he had to say about my assertion. All I heard was the snick of the door shutting behind him when he left.