Royally Screwed - Lynn Van Dorn Page 0,19

he kept applying the cream. “Should we call him, then? Your Francis. Have him come over and fix the mess he left of you? I’m sure his number is in your phone. All I have to do is look.”

Before he could think of a calculated response, Yuri’s mouth said, “No! I mean… fuck. I don’t even know anymore.” Angelo’s fingers continued to gently spread the cream over his painful, burning skin and Yuri started to cry. Silent tears, but it was more than he’d ever shed with Francis. He wanted to cling to Angelo and beg him to never leave him, but that was stupid. Angelo was stuck with him forever. He’d never leave, but he’d never be there, either. Not enough of him, and never in any ways that counted.

“This can’t go on,” Angelo said.

Yuri sighed and snuffled into his pillow. He tried to sound like he wasn’t crying. “I know. It’s tearing me apart.”

“If you can’t tell him to stop, I will.” Angelo was resolute and immoveable, like the mountains between Mirea and Tanzhir.

“That’s not what I meant.” Yuri was so tired he felt like he could sleep for years.

“I know.” The two words hung in the air between them. “I can’t… I’m not… but something has to be done. You can’t go on like this. I won’t let you.”

His words sliced Yuri apart like knives. “Later.” It was more question and plea than statement. “Can we deal with this later? Please? Because right now I just can’t”

“Sure, princess. Later,” Angelo agreed, his voice soothing as the cream he applied so carefully.

Yuri’s heart ached with the injustice of it all. He’d thought Francis would be the perfect lover—handsome, charming, urbane, and he fucked like a dream. He’d even been receptive to Yuri’s hints that, from time to time, he needed discipline. And at first it had been exactly what he wanted and needed, but slowly, it had turned into something else. So slowly that he hadn’t realized how far things had gone until Jacki had come over to help him, taken one look at his backside, and went into the bathroom to vomit.

To himself, if to no one else, Yuri acknowledged that Francis had gone too far. He’d probably gone too far months ago, but Yuri had let him, knowing that if he made Francis leave, he’d have nothing at all. The occasional pain seemed worth it for the trade-off of being seen and noticed and needed.

Angelo, on the other hand, needed Yuri like he needed a chocolate teapot.

Still, he had come, and was trying in his very small way to make things better. And that, for some strange reason, only made Yuri cry harder. Hard enough for Angelo to finally notice what he was doing.

Yuri expected him to try to stop the tears but instead, Angelo laid his hand on a section of Yuri’s back that didn’t hurt and stroked the intact skin slowly and softly. “That’s it,” he said. “Let it all out. Let it go. I’ve got you. I'm not going anywhere.”

“No. Where are you going to sleep?” Yuri couldn't bear the idea of Angelo sleeping next to him. Not like this. It was a mockery of what he so desperately wanted.

“On the floor, obviously.”

Yuri shook his head, his face buried in his pillow. “No.”

“Then I'll call Philippe. He can watch you.”

“No!” Yuri turned his head to the side so he could see some of Angelo sitting beside him on the bed. Philippe's first phone call would be to Yuri's parents. Yuri would be sent to hospital, like it or not, everything would get out, and it would be humiliating for everyone. No. Philippe couldn't know. “Fine. You can stay.”

“Good,” Angelo said, “because I'd already planned on it.”

8

Angelo Takes One for the Team

Angelo spent the night on Yuri's floor, not sleeping much but thinking furiously. After Yuri had cried himself out and fallen into an exhausted sleep, Angelo pondered how to keep his stupid, reckless boy safe. With several ideas, but no conclusions, running through his head, Angelo also fell asleep.

The next day he arranged for Yuri to watch videos of his lectures, FaceTime with his tutors, and have projects postponed until he was better. As the days went by and Yuri recovered—his skin turning from aubergine to a sickly yellow-green with patches of crimson, pink, milk white, and faded violet—Angelo stayed with him as much as possible.

Even after Yuri was capable of moving about without stiffness or pain, Angelo refused to go away. Soon,