Chapter Twelve
Merton looked at Tommy in disbelief. Approximately one thousand and eighty-seven thoughts were running through his head. But there was one that surprised him, and stood out among all the rest. "It's wrong to love me?"
"No! I mean . . . the other stuff." Tommy teetered near the edge of wolfing out, determined to contain it. He wasn't quite successful; his eyes shone yellow, his gaze wandering over the bed.
Merton pulled the sheets over himself.
"Sorry, Merton, I wasn't. . . Those are some unusual jammies." Tommy wanted to smack himself.
Merton turned red, but he was hoping the darkness covered that. "They're soft."
"I'm really, really sorry, Merton, I shouldn't have pushed myself on you like that." Tommy sat down at the edge of the bed and abruptly jumped back up. "I'm hoping you'll forgive me."
"It's okay. It's just. . ." Merton couldn't stop the half-hearted sob that escaped him.
Tommy was completely unable to help himself. Tommy knew that coming over here had been a bad idea. And he was about to make things worse. But he couldn't stand to see Merton hurting. And it was even worse when he was the cause. But Merton had him completely lost. His arms knew who they wanted to hold, comfort, have, and they found him all on their own.
Merton's pillow was wet, and Tommy could smell salt, and he didn't want to think about that. Merton wasn't struggling, wasn't letting go, was clinging to him like a frightened child. "We can work past this, buddy, I know we can. I'll keep away, and we'll figure out a game plan, and set some rules, and I'll never ever do that to you again."
"I don't think so. . . I can't be what you need, Tommy, I'm not brave enough. I'm so scared, and you're the best kisser I ever. . . And I need you, so bad. You are my best friend. My only friend. And I don't think I can do this."
Tommy didn't have anything to say to that. All he could do was hold Merton tighter. Merton didn't smell like himself. There was none of his scent there. Tommy snuffled quietly.
"I . . . hadsixshowers." Merton blurted out. "YoufeltsowarmandIwantedtobewarmand. . ."
Tommy searched for the emotions behind the scents. It was normally quite difficult. . . People had so many smells covering over the important ones. Deodorant, perfume, lip-gloss. Even when they didn't realize what they were doing, people hid themselves.
He knew Merton's scent better than anyone in the world. Fear was a big one, so sharp it overpowered the others. Normally the smell of fear drove Tommy wild, but Tommy was in a different place now. Self-hate was there too. But it was the faintest smell that caught Tommy's attention. Fragile, and almost lost in the simple scent of air, was a taste of love. Tommy smelt it everyday on his parents, on teachers and students at school, on Alex Tracek when he looked at Julia Bone, who didn't even realize that somewhere at the back of the classroom, she had someone who would die for her.
He couldn't remember if he had ever smelled it on Merton.
He knew the smell of Merton's excitement, and pleasure, and giddy happiness. He could pick Merton's scent out of a crowd of preteen girls at a Justin Timberlake concert, even if Merton had just happened to be given the latest issue of Goth Monthly.
He was lost again. His lips found Merton's softly, and they were kissing again, and Merton was kissing back, and it was the vanilla taste that he craved, and he couldn't get enough of it. He licked open Merton's mouth, tasted every inch of it. He was going to hell, but it was a hell of a ride. His fingers ran over Merton's back, and those jammies were soft.
Merton made an inarticulate noise, unable to stop himself. It wasn't quite a lustful moan, but it was close. Tommy pulled back, and Merton realised he was more stimulated than he had any right to be. He was pressing against Tommy, like . . . Merton couldn't think of a simile that wasn't obscene. Merton almost broke down, right there, and wept like a little girl, except, it was Tommy who was looking at him. Tommy whose eyes were dark with a desire that Merton couldn't quite imagine.
It was wordless, and fevered, and Merton could only hold out his arms again, searching for a world that made sense.
"It's okay, Mer, it's okay. Love you."