He Made Me Stay

This week, Kit has boldly told everyone he comes in contact with he has Type 1 diabetes and isn’t afraid to eat his snacks in class, check his monitors in front of people, or whip out his insulin pump if the moment calls for it.

“Kit takes care of himself,” I tell Eric. “Just watch and make sure he doesn’t wear himself out. If he gets tired, he should go home. You can call me if you need to…” I trail off as the horror of my words hit my brain.

No more promises, Jasper.

“Thank you,” Eric rushes out, relief in his voice. “Mom will shit her pants over this, but it’ll be hard for her to go psycho on me in front of the entire school.”

It makes me glad my parents were so accepting of my sexuality.

“We’re going to be late,” Kit says, his hand finding mine. “Hey, Eric.”

“Hey, Kit.” Eric’s cheeks turn pink. “See you guys around.”

Eric walks away, back over to his group of friends—my old group of friends. As soon as he’s gone, Kit looks up at me.

“Everything okay?”

No.

I’ll only have you for tonight and then it’s all over.

Mom will have lost both boys. Dad will have no one to geek out over music with. Kit will have a thing with Eric and not me.

“I don’t think so,” I admit, my voice raspy. “Not okay at all.”

Kit stands on his toes so he can reach me, boldly kissing me in front of everyone. “We just have to make it through today. Then, we can talk about it. We can fix it.”

Not this.

There is no fixing this.

But then Kit smiles with his silly grin and his twinkling eyes.

I wonder if maybe there is.The house is quiet when we enter. I shoot Kit a confused look and he shrugs. Each day I’ve come over after school, it’s been a madhouse. Worse on Wednesday and Thursday when Leesa was at work. Tad’s a cool guy, but he lets the four little ones run wild.

“Homeslice, you’re a murdering beast,” Kit chides as he stops to pet his cat. “Vesper will never forgive you for that blood bath you left on her bed.”

We both chuckle. I didn’t know a girl could scream that high-pitched.

“Snacks,” I remind Kit.

With Kit, he’s all about the routine. As long as he follows his routines, he does better. I like helping keep him on a schedule and looking after him, watching for any tells he might not be doing well. It gives me purpose.

Soon, we’re upstairs, in our favorite spot. His bed. This time, the house is quiet, but my head is loud.

“Where is everyone?” The churning in my gut worsens with each passing minute.

“Dad took the kids after school to Showman’s Pizzeria. He likes it because he can buy a bunch of tokens and let them run hog wild. We won’t see them for a couple of hours.” His fingertips skim down my chest. “Can we talk?”

Kit is silly and rarely serious, so when his voice lowers and the concern bleeds through, guilt overwhelms me.

What will he do without me tomorrow?

Absently, I clutch onto my pill bottle through my jeans.

“Did you take your medicine today?”

I nod, my throat aching too much to speak.

“Do I need to call Carla?”

My eyes snap to his. “No. I want to kiss you.”

His brows are knitted together. I miss his smile. “Jasper…”

“Please,” I whimper. “I need you. You’re the only thing that…”

“That what?” he implores.

The only thing that keeps me here.

A sob claws its way up my throat. I desperately try to swallow it down, but it escapes without remorse. Hot tears burn my eyes and then leak down my temples. The ache for my brother that has been carved out of my chest now stings from new loss. A loss that hasn’t happened yet.

Kit.

His lips rain kisses down on my cheeks and forehead and nose. He then presses a soft kiss to my lips. A needy moan rattles through me as I tangle my fingers in his hair, pulling him to me. Our tongues meet greedily, each of us eager for the other. He kisses me hard, but unlike the other days this week where we kissed side by side, Kit makes good on his promise to touch me. His body settles on top of mine. I spread my legs so he can rest between them. He ruts against me each time his tongue swipes across mine. Pleasure sears hot through me as our dicks rub together through our clothes.

“I want to feel you,” I plead through kisses.

He sits up and pulls off his shirt. His insulin pump is attached to his jeans and the monitor is affixed in place on his stomach. Despite his disease that clearly does its damnedest to take him from me, he’s so strong and fierce. I struggle my way out of my shirt, happy when we’re both naked from the waist up.