Ashes of the Day (18 page)

“Do I? I don’t think so, D. What I know is, we both wanted it—like you just said. And I should have had you that night, and every night since then. You should have been my first, my one and only. Because, maybe, if we’d started off that way—the way it should have been—then… Oh, fuck. Who the hell knows what else might have changed, you know? Maybe I’d never have gotten caught up in the club scene like I did. You sure never seemed all that big a fan of it. And maybe…maybe I wouldn’t have ended up here, in this fucking bed. I might never even have gotten sick if… And I can’t even walk anymore, do you know that? I can’t even stand on my own two feet without someone holding me up. It’s just…it’s just so fucking unfair. I had plans, D. I had dreams. I had a life, damn it, and it wasn’t supposed to end like this. How can it all be over this soon? How?”

Damian’s breath caught as the terrible truth in Paul’s words struck home. Every word, every accusation was irrefutable. Tears streamed down Damian’s face. His hands shook as he held Paul close, rocking them both. “Oh, Pablito. I’m sorry. So very sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted you to be happy—truly I did. It’s my fault. I see that now. Everything…it’s all my fault.”

“What? No.” Paul twisted around to face him. “No, D, stop it. Stop! Oh, baby, no. It’s not— Fuck, that’s not what I meant…or, I dunno, maybe it was. But, even so, hell, don’t listen to me. You don’t need to apologize. Shit happens, right? I shouldn’t have tried to lay it on you like that. That…that wasn’t fair. That’s not right. It’s not your fault.”

Damian shook his head. “No. It is my fault. If it hadn’t been for me…if we’d never met, your life… Who knows how it would have turned out. But I took that away from you. I took that choice away. There’s no excuse for that. I should have left you alone. I should have cut things off sooner. Right away. As soon as I realized how young you were. I should have never taken up with you at all. But I wanted you. I was so lonely and…and I was selfish. And, this time, it was you who paid the price for my mistakes. I continued to see you, even when I knew I shouldn’t. I slept with you. I led you on. And I never once thought about how much I might be hurting you; not until it was too late, not until the damage was already done.”

“Aw, no, don’t say that.” Paul wiped a tear from Damian’s face, smiling faintly. “Damian, sweetie, you were the greatest adventure of my life! I don’t regret a minute of the time we had together. The only thing I ever wished was that we could’ve had more. And, you know what? Forget what I said about how you should’ve been my first because… Because you were, in a way, you know? In my heart you were.” He thumped his fist against his chest. “It was always you in here, D. Always. And, loving you was…it was everything.
You
were everything. Like that song we used to dance to—you remember that song? My first, my last, my everything—isn’t that how it went?”

“Something like that, I believe.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you were to me.”

Every word Paul spoke damned Damian further. He swallowed hard, wishing he could say the same—wanting so much to be able to say the same, to tell Paul that he felt that way about him too. But he couldn’t. Paul deserved the truth, not a feels-good lie. There had always been too many lies between them as it was. And as much as Damian loved Paul, he couldn’t claim to feel the same desperate devotion he now realized Paul had felt for him. How could he have been so blind not to see it? How could he have been so selfish?

“And another thing,” Paul said, using two feeble hands to frame Damian’s face and tilt it toward him again. “I’m glad I was wrong about what’s-his-name, about him being bad for you. ’Cause I only ever wanted you to be happy. I’m glad you have someone looking out for you—keeping tabs on you. Just like you always tried to do with me.”

At that Damian frowned. “What do you mean?”

A spark of amusement gleamed in Paul’s eyes. He laughed weakly. “You didn’t think I knew about that, did you? About how you tried to keep track of me after I left, how you always wanted to know what I was up to? Hell, baby, I always knew. It’s just…I was so fucking angry with you. That’s why I never said anything, why I wouldn’t even answer your letters at first, why I didn’t write you until it was almost too late. It made me so mad to think that…that, you were out there somewhere, trying to check up on me, caring for me, wanting to look out for me, but you wouldn’t let me do the same for you.”

Damian sighed. “That’s not entirely why I did it… I mean, I wasn’t…”

“It’s okay.” Paul smiled. “It doesn’t matter. It’s all water under the bridge now, right? It’s just… I wanted to be that for you, you know? I wanted to be the one you depended on. I wanted— Oh, Christ,” he broke off, laughing again, gasping for breath. “Oh, fuck me. I can’t believe I’m saying this. I wanted to be ‘the guy who grew old with you’. Can you believe that shit? I really thought that. I really did.”

Again the laughter turned into a struggle for breath. Damian sat up, alarmed. “Paul, stop. No more now. Let it go. Just breathe.”

Paul shook his head. “No,” he gasped, his lungs heaving for air. “No, listen. It’s funny, right? ’Cause…look at us, man. It ain’t happening to either one of us. Getting old, I don’t suppose that’s something we’ll ever have to worry about, right? Only some of us…some of us are doing it more grace…more gracefully. Some of us…”

“Please, Pablito,” Damian begged again. “No more talking. You’ll exhaust yourself.”

“No.” Paul shook his head again and Damian could see a little of that old stubbornness in the clenching of his jaw. “Have to, damn it. When else am I gonna talk? Wanna tell you…oh, shit. I really shoulda written you sooner, you know? I’m such an idiot. What the fuck was I thinking? All that time I wasted. So stupid. There are so many things I want to tell you. Not just good-bye but also thank you and, most of all, ’cause I know I didn’t say it near enough when I had the chance, when I
should’ve
said it, when it maybe would have made a difference. I wanna say…I love you. ’Cause I do, baby. I love you so much, D. I always have.”

“And I, you, Pablito,” Damian said, blinking away his tears once more. “Always.”

A small satisfied smile curved Paul’s lips. “Yeah?”

Damian nodded, trying to return the smile, and not quite succeeding. “
Sí, mi carito
. I do. More than you know.” More than Damian himself had known himself for far too long.

“I figured, you know,” Paul sighed and snuggled against Damian once again. “Don’t know why we hardly ever said it before. Stupid of us. Still, I’m glad you told me now.” His eyes closed and he seemed once again on the verge of sleep; even the choppiness of his breathing seemed to ease. “It’s just nice to hear the words sometimes, I guess. Thank you.”

“
De nada
,” Damian murmured, his attention held by Paul’s chest as it rose and fell; and by each slow exhale and the seemingly endless wait until the next rasping inhale had begun. “You’re right, Pablito. I should have told you sooner.”

Paul sighed. “Like I said, we both should’ve…should’ve…” His breath ghosted out and then in again. Out…and then in. Out. And then… In. Out…

Gasping a little, Paul shook himself awake. He tipped his head back until he could see Damian’s face and smiled softly. “Damian…” The name was barely a whisper on his lips. “Damn, baby…I’ve missed you. So much. I’m so glad… So glad you’re here now.”

“Breathe,
niño
. I’m glad too. But, no more talk. You need your rest. You’ll tire yourself out this way.”

Paul ignored him. “Doesn’t matter now. I guess… In the end, it all worked out like it was supposed to. I was wrong, but…I got you after all. Didn’t I? I finally…finally got lucky. Got…exactly what I wanted… You… It was always you…”

A shattered sigh. Another agonizing struggle to inhale. A cough that ended in a wheeze and a gasp. And then another staggered exhale.

“Guess this means I…” Paul took a deep breath and let it out again. “I can’t even call you the one who got away anymore, can I?”

Damian shook his head. “No, Pablito. I was never that.”

“Right. ’Cause here you are.”

“
Sí
.” Tears tracked slowly down Damian’s face as he counted the seconds between each breath. “Here I am. And I’m not going anywhere. Breathe, Pablito.” He stroked Paul’s head, willing his heart to beat, wishing for some way to ease the terrible pressure that seemed to seize Paul’s lungs, squeezing harder and harder with each breath.

“Love you,” Paul gasped as his eyes closed and his head drooped forward once again. Muscles relaxing, he settled more heavily in Damian’s arms. “Love you, Damian. So much. Always…”

“
Sí, carito
, I love you too.”

Another sigh. A faint smile that trembled for just a moment on his lips, then melted away. Again Damian waited…and waited… “Breathe, Paul,” he urged when the wait went on a little too long. “Paul?” Fear clutched at Damian’s heart. “Breathe for me, Pablito.” No response. “
Niño
?” The silence overwhelmed him and he sat up quickly, taking Paul by the shoulders, staring intently at his face, willing him to answer. “Paul?”

He shook him, gently at first then more urgently, watching for any reaction, any sign—a change of expression, a hint of movement, the flicker of an eyelid, some tiny spark of life. Paul’s head lolled to the side. His body hung limp and heavy in Damian’s grasp.

“No.” The word was a whimper, a prayer, a horrified denial of what Damian already knew to be the truth.

He was Vampire. He knew death with an intimacy few other creatures could ever lay claim to. He could taste the emptiness in the air, smell the thickening stillness of Paul’s blood as it pooled and settled in his veins. He could feel the weight of a heart that was finally at peace, a dear and tender heart, one that would never again leap with joy, or pulse with life or race at a lover’s touch. At his touch.

He knew, and still he shook his head in vehement denial, unwilling to accept what all his senses were telling him was so. “No, no, no, no, no. You can’t.” A sob tore from Damian’s throat. He knew his pleas would never be answered and still he couldn’t stop. The broken appeals continued to tumble from his lips as he gathered Paul into his arms again and held him close. “Don’t do this, Paul. Do you hear me? Please, Pablito, you can’t. Not yet. Oh, please, not yet. I’m not ready to let you go again so soon. Stay with me,
carito
. Please stay. Just a little while, just a little longer, just… Oh, Paul.”

Chapter Twelve

One week later…

The moon was riding low in the sky when Conrad made his way back home. He glanced resentfully at the milky orb whose ever-changing phases reminded him nightly of the weary passage of time. His mind turned once again to thoughts of Damian. When was he coming home? Why had Conrad not thought to ask what hospital Paul was in, or even what city? Why had he not insisted Damian keep in touch while he was gone? Could he have been afraid to have his concerns shrugged off, or to have yet another request dismissed?

Was it too much to ask that the young man, if he really was about to die, might hurry up and do so, and not torment Damian any longer than necessary? Or, no…maybe not. That was just selfishness. No wonder Damian had called him cruel. This was, perhaps, the only type of occasion when to prolong one’s agony was a boon and a blessing. However painful Damian found his current situation, he would likely not want it to end any sooner than need be. Conrad knew what it was to watch loved ones die. He’d seen it happen both ways, fast and slow, and truly he could not decide which loss was the hardest to bear.

As he rounded the last corner, his gaze instinctively cut to the house. His heart leaped as he caught a flash of silver in the driveway. Damian’s car? Yes. It was. Conrad quickened his pace, long strides eating up the sidewalk, until he was practically sprinting up the front stairs. Once inside the house, however, he paused. The faint murmur of voices reached his ears. Was Damian not alone? He couldn’t have brought the boy back here with him…could he? And for what? In the hope that Conrad might agree to turn him? No, surely not that! If Damian were so lost to the danger inherent in taking such a step, why would he even wait for Conrad’s permission? Why would he not choose, instead, to defy him one more time and simply turn the boy himself? He’d been gone long enough for that to have happened. Maybe that’s exactly what he had done…

And if he had? Conrad had no answer for that. Paul knew too much, and he couldn’t be trusted with the twins’ secret—with their safety. Conrad could not possibly allow it. He couldn’t allow Damian to keep him, nor could he kill him. Not unless he was prepared to kill Damian as well.

Not knowing what to expect, Conrad tracked the voices to Damian’s room. The door was ajar; he pushed it open and looked inside, his eyes immediately finding the two figures huddled on Damian’s bed.
No. It can’t be…

It wasn’t. But it took several seconds for his racing thoughts to adjust themselves to the reality. Relief flooded his senses, the same relief he heard in Julie’s weary sigh as she met his gaze. “Thank goodness you’re back.” The worry remained etched on her face, however, as she gestured at Damian, curled unresponsive at her side, his face to the wall, his posture rigid. “Something’s wrong. And I can’t even get him to tell me what it is.”

“I
have
told you,” Damian replied in uncharacteristically harsh tones. “At least a dozen times already. It’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing,” Julie snapped. “No matter how many times you say it, it won’t make it so. You think I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re hurting? I’m not a child, D.”