Buzzing in his head. Dim outlines taking shape, awarenesses and accesses to comprehension of where he is and what he's done and who is with him (not Daddy.) The pain is physical, and real, and consuming.
An addict's hit torn abruptly away. A patient with his wounds flayed open, seeping, untreated and unnumbed and Enri's head is buzzing. His long form drawn into a ball, fetal on the bed where (not Daddy) Lydia sent him. (Shameful. Shame like wet piss-stained jeans like the sour taste of vomit in his throat like a simple equation solved incorrectly before the class. Metallic. Ammonia-scented.) She knows exactly what he's been doing and now his father knows and his uncles will know and the worst of it is he wants it. He wants more. He wants it for the rest of his life, the things Darius does to him.
Buzzing head, buzzing form -
He hears them speaking in the other room, hears maybe a third definitely a third voice maybe a fourth, he can't tell at range the difference in his uncle's voice from his father's. But count them, assume it's his parents, assume it's Alice and Custis with them. (Treavor, maybe, though Treavor - an inane thought - has been markedly absent throughout this affair as though he doesn't want to get involved in any kind of drama.) (Alice might be doing that.)
(And. And also.
Who gives a flying fuck.) (He needs Daddy. Oh, he needs Daddy. He shivers, his eyes closing and lips pressing firm, feverish - Daddy tried to get to him. He heard him shouting.) (Daddy wants to keep him. Daddy said stay.) (Bad Puppy.) Bad Puppy.
Disloyal. He's vibrating with it, with the buzz in his head and -
His phone. Is vibrating. In his pocket.
He scrambles fast for it because it's Darius, of course it's Darius. He curls up to a tighter ball and crams the phone to his ear, only shuddering breaths evidencing that it's him on the other end of the line, listening. Hungry for the word of god.
I'm here.
Relief so severe it's painful. Yesterday, Darius compelled him with only words to howl in rapture, and today, Darius knows how to comfort him. Daddy's coming for you.
Darius won't abandon him. Darius didn't desert him. And he's coming to fight the monsters.
(Deeply, beneath advancing fog, Enri wonders: am I worth this? All this fucking chaos, and he still wants me?)
The monsters aren't monsters; they're his fucking parents. (He can't tell. He can't say that.)
He can't let Darius do this.
Softly, he starts to cry; he presses his free hand to his forehead, rushed with frustration, exhaustion, need taking root like addiction. (He doesn't desire; this runs so much deeper, this feels more a nightmare than any days-ignored erection. This is pure, his mind and soul screaming for Darius.) (Can his god hear him?)
Enri gathers himself enough to speak, his voice barely audible. "I can't talk."
And a miserable whisper: "Please don't leave me."
He can keep the phone sandwiched between the pillow and his head, let Darius be a secret voice in his ear. Until they come back here, and take it all away.
no subject
An addict's hit torn abruptly away. A patient with his wounds flayed open, seeping, untreated and unnumbed and Enri's head is buzzing. His long form drawn into a ball, fetal on the bed where (not Daddy) Lydia sent him. (Shameful. Shame like wet piss-stained jeans like the sour taste of vomit in his throat like a simple equation solved incorrectly before the class. Metallic. Ammonia-scented.) She knows exactly what he's been doing and now his father knows and his uncles will know and the worst of it is he wants it. He wants more. He wants it for the rest of his life, the things Darius does to him.
Buzzing head, buzzing form -
He hears them speaking in the other room, hears maybe a third definitely a third voice maybe a fourth, he can't tell at range the difference in his uncle's voice from his father's. But count them, assume it's his parents, assume it's Alice and Custis with them. (Treavor, maybe, though Treavor - an inane thought - has been markedly absent throughout this affair as though he doesn't want to get involved in any kind of drama.) (Alice might be doing that.)
(And. And also.
Who gives a flying fuck.) (He needs Daddy. Oh, he needs Daddy. He shivers, his eyes closing and lips pressing firm, feverish - Daddy tried to get to him. He heard him shouting.) (Daddy wants to keep him. Daddy said stay.) (Bad Puppy.) Bad Puppy.
Disloyal. He's vibrating with it, with the buzz in his head and -
His phone. Is vibrating. In his pocket.
He scrambles fast for it because it's Darius, of course it's Darius. He curls up to a tighter ball and crams the phone to his ear, only shuddering breaths evidencing that it's him on the other end of the line, listening. Hungry for the word of god.
I'm here.
Relief so severe it's painful. Yesterday, Darius compelled him with only words to howl in rapture, and today, Darius knows how to comfort him. Daddy's coming for you.
Darius won't abandon him. Darius didn't desert him. And he's coming to fight the monsters.
(Deeply, beneath advancing fog, Enri wonders: am I worth this? All this fucking chaos, and he still wants me?)
The monsters aren't monsters; they're his fucking parents. (He can't tell. He can't say that.)
He can't let Darius do this.
Softly, he starts to cry; he presses his free hand to his forehead, rushed with frustration, exhaustion, need taking root like addiction. (He doesn't desire; this runs so much deeper, this feels more a nightmare than any days-ignored erection. This is pure, his mind and soul screaming for Darius.) (Can his god hear him?)
Enri gathers himself enough to speak, his voice barely audible. "I can't talk."
And a miserable whisper: "Please don't leave me."
He can keep the phone sandwiched between the pillow and his head, let Darius be a secret voice in his ear. Until they come back here, and take it all away.