Zane was such a terrible, useless leech.
“What are you talking about? You literally put a roof over my head, and you buy my food, and I think… I’m assuming you’re not lying to me about money, which is everything.”
Roach snorted and turned to wrap his arms around Zane’s neck, pulling him to his warm body, which smelled of smoke, caramel, and sweaty sex. “I’m not lying about money. There isn’t much. I need to pay Gale’s nurse, but… I want things to get better one day, you know? I never really thought it could be possible before I met you. You make me feel like I can actually do something with my life.”
Nobody had ever said anything like it about Zane. He’d always been a pest. Sometimes, a hot pest, but a pest nevertheless. A leech. A dreamer with no future. The gay son who wouldn’t sire grandchildren or pass on his surname. But here was a guy, who saw his future reflected in Zane, and it meant so much Zane wanted to take double shifts of the most boring, thankless work, just to make Roach proud of him. He would make money, even if he’d have to bend his own rules to do so.
“Things will get better. I promise.”
“There has to be a reason some higher power’s bonded us, right?” Roach kissed his cheek, but while Zane wanted to turn his head and make their lips meet, a sudden sneeze reminded him that none of them were well yet, and it was better if they moved on with what needed to be done so they could return to bed.
“Yep. So that I can provide a soundtrack to your life,” Zane said and grabbed his guitar case from where it rested in the corner.
Roach’s smile lit up his face. “Really? You coming with me?” Roach picked up his bag of tools and an extra box of tissues.
Zane beamed at him, happy with his choice, even if it meant he’d have to sit in a bitterly cold room while Roach worked. They could pop into the diner for some hot cocoa later.
“I might have a new song idea and need your feedback. It’s about my favorite sandwich.”
Chapter 23 – Zane
Zane swallowed the last bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and washed it down with water. He stretched in the old chair and rubbed an itchy bit of skin against its broken upholstery until it scratched him just right. The back room smelled of stale beer and the hot dog the bartender had there earlier. But Roach was there too, watching him with a small smile while he lifted the burning cigarette to his lips.
Zane never liked the taste of tobacco, but the faint warmth he sensed in his lungs whenever Roach smoked somewhere very close felt good, like a hug from the inside.
“Can’t believe they’re gonna pay me three hundred bucks for making a fool of myself.”
Roach shook his head. “Me neither. Elizabeth must really like your ass. How did you even get her to forgive you for ripping a page out of a library book? I thought we’d be forever shunned.”
Zane grinned at him and pulled up his legs, so his heels rested on the edge of the seat as he watched Roach smoke. “I have my ways.”
He’d apologized with some chocolate. Worked like a charm and scored him this sweet gig.
“I hope those ways don’t involve licking pussy.” Roach raised his eyebrows, but the expression on his face was far too calm. He didn’t actually suspect Zane of fucking a woman.
“Maybe I convinced her future husband to give me a chance?” Zane teased as he reached to his bare feet and massaged the toes.
Roach chuckled. “That almost tickles. How did you even know how much to ask for?”
Zane’s first reaction was to get defensive, feeling offended that Roach pointed out he didn’t know his way with money, but it only took him a second to relax. Roach didn’t mean it in a bad way. He only wanted to know.
“She was the one to suggest it, and she seems like a decent person, so I agreed,” he admitted in the end and pinched the delicate skin between his toes. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes. Instantly. It’s like… pain is always there, but pleasure is muted.” Roach put out his cigarette and approached the back of Zane’s armchair. He put his hands on Zane’s shoulders and began a slow massage. “That kind of money will make a dent in our debt.”
Zane hummed and threw his head back, until it rested against Roach’s firm stomach. He’d dressed in his best clothes—the jeans that hung on his hips just right, the T-shirt that was the tiniest bit too tight, and he’d even borrowed a black jacket from Gale, because while it was totally oversized on its owner, for Zane it was the perfect fit. And underneath it all was a cheap metal chain from the second hand store, which would glint against his chest once most of the clothes were removed.