convinced. “Now, you mentioned ‘latent’ behaviours?”
“My patient has never been attracted to another man before and does not consider himself gay.”
“Ah. But he’s attracted to this young man, despite that?”
“Yes,” said Crane, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “He describes it like… an addiction. He wants to remove the young man from his life, but can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Uh…” Crane finished the water in his glass and took his time reopening the bottle to refill it, stalling. “It’s complicated. And this is where I feel like I’m failing in his therapy. I hate being so powerless to help.”
“Can you get into the complications with me?”
“I don’t think so… not without betraying his confidence,” Crane said awkwardly. “I can only say that this patient would have his reputation smeared if he ended his relationship with this young man.”
“So, there’s something being held over him? The homosexual nature of their relationship? Or is it more?”
“He’s not a homosexual,” Crane replied more forcefully than he’d intended. “He’s just… confused.”
“I see,” Victoria said, frowning down at her notes.
Crane’s heart thumped hard, thinking she probably saw right through him. He was a horrible liar. For a few seconds, he thought about telling her the truth… But he couldn’t. “That’s not why my patient feels he can’t leave this young man. It’s… because he’s done, um morally… questionable things because of him.”
“Illegal?”
“No.”
“You’re worried that something illegal will happen? You can’t protect this patient if he’s planning on committing a crime…”
“I know,” Crane muttered, cursing himself for how badly this was going. Dr. Durant was no help, and now, she probably thought he was going to do something stupid—whether she believed he was this fictional patient or not. He clenched his jaw and exhaled through his nose slowly, calming himself down. In an even voice he continued: “Nothing illegal, no. But his dependence on this rather unhealthy relationship has weighed heavily on me, enough that it… It caused excessive stress in my own relationship… over how much I was fixated on it. You see, I want to help this man, but sometimes, it feels like he doesn’t actually want help. That he’s exactly where he wants to be, and that disturbs me to no end.” He sat back in his chair, finding his equilibrium again, and decided to take the safe route. “My wife left me because I put work ahead of her needs, and we’ve been together since we were little more than kids. I’m not dealing with it well and had to step back from my practice. Regroup. Explore my options.”
A tiny wrinkle appeared on Victoria’s forehead—whether from confusion over his sudden shift in focus, or because she didn’t believe a single thing coming out of his mouth, he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting through the next forty minutes and then heading back home.
Home, he thought bitterly. Home sweet home.
Crane looked blearily around, his vision not quite matching the speed with which he turned his head, and squinted at Max who was seated on the other couch, his laptop open in front of him. The young man’s brow was furrowed in concentration, the light reflected from the screen making his features morph and shift like he was some sort of demon.
“Uhhh,” Crane tried, his whole mouth numb.
Max lifted his eyes from what he was working on, a smile on his face. “Hey, sweetie. Had a good nap?”
“Mm?” The last thing he remembered was pouring himself a drink… But that felt like days ago. What day was it?
Does it matter?
Max rose up from his seat. He was naked, his skin mottled with fresh bruises covering yellowing ones. Around his neck was a dark ring of contusions—purple blooms made by fingermarks in the heat of passion. A memory of Max choking, his eyes bulging, came to him, then drifted away like a daydream.
Without a word, Max straddled Crane’s lap and put his arms around him, head down on his shoulder and lips pressed to the side of his throat. Crane’s hands moved of their own accord, stroking down Max’s bare back, thumbs sliding over his ribs.
“Are you hungry?” Max murmured against his skin.
“Mm? Yes…”
“For food, or for me?” Teeth nipped him softly, and Max chuckled, wiggling his hips a tiny bit.
“No. No… I don’t… I don’t know.” Crane’s head spun and the room blurred.
“What’s wrong, Doc?” Max sat back to look at him. There were patterns in his eyes, bright streaks, subtle pixilation, like the image was only half-downloaded. If he stared long enough, he could