Stereo Blast Volume 1 [MxM]

Chapter 4.1

The pieces were falling together, but it was still not making sense to him. Ryan had listened to Taylor’s words, as much as Taylor would say to him, and he could still not grasp the full picture. The vial, the blue liquid he’d bought from Tike, played a key role in what had happened the night before, but why? Why had Taylor been chased down when he was going to fight Cleo and why was the government involved?

Ryan stirred the noodles into the simmering broth, still caught up in the wild night that had transpired. The image of Taylor, broken, bloody, and on his last straw would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life. They’d come close last night from losing each other. Closer than any other time Taylor got in over his head.

Dragging Taylor home had been terrifying and watching the whole thing happen without being able to do a thing had been worse. He’d been there from the moment Ryan pulled his gun on Cleo, but he’d been too far away to join the fight. Though, now he wondered if he would have been any help. The way the helicopter had ambushed them all gave none of them a chance and Taylor had just made it out alive by some fluke. He’d been just fast enough to dive for cover when the shooting happened. The rest of the gangsters hadn’t been so lucky.

Ryan gripped the plastic spoon tight. His fingernails left crescent moons in his tan skin, almost close to spilling blood. Images of crippled bodies and rivers of blood flashes before him. He braced himself on the stove top, weak in the knees by the scene that was long gone.

The bodies would be gone. The Mason Government made routine trips for clean up and by the c*****e left behind from the fight, the bridge would be their first stop. There were at least six bodies to be disposed of, all humans, and all gangsters. He didn’t know what would happen. The feds never tried to investigate murders by the hands of the gangs, never tried to since the Rising. Most murders were swept under the rug. The news might play it once, but no one ever saw it. More than half the country didn’t have access to a television.

This would all be a distant memory. He would do all he could to push this behind them because that was all he could do after he helped Taylor heal. Wordlessly, he filled a bowl with the soup and popped the spoon in. He carried it to the bed, frowning when he found Taylor propped up in bed with his eyes still on that f*****g blue vial.

He pushed the bowl into Taylor’s hands. “Eat.”

Taylor looked up at him and rolled his eyes, but he took the bowl. “We need to leave soon. I was supposed to meet with Mykah this morning.”

Mykah. Taylor’s dad.

Ryan sat on the bed, making sure to not jostle Taylor too much. Ryan had fixed the wound up as much as he could the night before, but it looked like it might need a professional—if they could find one in this district—to take a look at it.

“Okay,” Ryan said though he wanted to object to the idea right away. He had to reel himself back and remind himself that he wasn’t Taylor’s keeper. But it was so hard to when it seemed like Taylor needed someone to look after him. If Ryan hadn’t been there last night, Taylor would have blood to death or would have been dragged off by who-knows-what in this blasted city.

Nightcrawlers, vampires, there were humans out there that would do far worse than the supernatural could. After the Rising, it seemed like no one gave a s**t about anyone besides themselves.

That included Mykah.

Taylor slurped up a couple spoonfuls of the broth, ate a few noodles, and then handed it over to Ryan. “Have the rest.”

Ryan held the bowl, staring at Taylor as he went back to looking at the blue vial. Of course, he wanted to look at the f*****g thing rather than eat. It was too much like Taylor

Ryan bit down the words that wanted to vomit out of his mouth. He stood up, shoving noodles into his mouth just to spite Taylor, and threw the bowl onto the counter. The broth sloshed onto the counter and though it might have been his lowest point of the day, throwing things like he was a kid throwing a tantrum, he felt much better after doing it. Behind him, Taylor snorted.

“I’m the one who should be throwing things around,” he said in that cool and distant voice Ryan had come to somewhat enjoy. It only irritated him now, making him grit his teeth and turn around with a glare. He let his anger flourish to the point he thought he would destroy Taylor’s kitchen, but then it was gone. He let out a sigh and sagged against the counter’s edge.

He rubbed his face, so removed from the moment he didn’t know what he should say. Then, the words slipped out as if they’d been on the tip of his tongue since the beginning.

“You don’t understand,” he let out, mumbles that he could barely hear himself. “You were…”

Taylor’s broken form was right in front of him. He saw Taylor’s face, beaten and his lips blue from the ice cold water. His body fell limp in Ryan’s arms and felt like he’d ceased to breathe. He thought he was done.

And for hours after he dragged him to his apartment, he’d cried over him, patching his wound. The hours that he had to spend alone, thinking Taylor would never wake up, felt like the end of the world. He couldn’t live without Taylor. He’d come to terms with that last night and for Taylor to not know frustrated him.

He covered his heart. It ached and hurt so much it was hard to bare. But he wasn’t going to tell Taylor any of this. The words were there, he just needed to say them, but at what cost? What would Taylor say then and what would become of their friendship?

He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Taylor was staring back at him. The cold and emotionless man who sat in Taylor’s bed had once been a boy who was full of joy. As the years went by, the more Taylor spent running with the Wolves, the more the boy died. Ryan was dead before he met Taylor. He’d never known what living was like, but Taylor had tried to show him. He’d been kind enough to show compassion when everyone else Ryan knew had taken the opportunity to use him.

Taylor tightened his jaw. Ryan let his gaze fall onto Taylor’s throat, the soft movement creating a fire in his abdomen. It was so sudden, he didn’t have the time to fight against it. He looked away, too afraid of his feelings and too afraid that they might show on his face. The secrets he kept should never be known to the world, definitely not to Taylor. He could deal with everyone else in his life abandoning him. He could take the hurt and hate because that’s how he’d survived until now. But no matter how much he tried, he knew he would never get over the loss of Taylor. If Taylor disappeared from his life, he’d have no reason to go on.

“Ryan?” Taylor’s voice brought him back to the present.

He thought he was going to say what he feared. He thought Taylor had caught on and had made up his mind to throw him out of his life. Ryan would go if that’s what Taylor wanted. He didn’t know if he would go without a fight though.

“Can you get my clothes?”

It’s not what he expected, but it was better than the worst.

He decided then, that he would keep it bottled inside of him. He’d done that very thing for most of his life, letting Taylor do whatever he wanted without much of a word from Ryan. It hadn’t ever worked out well, not for either of them, but there wasn’t much else he could do.

Ryan picked out a random shirt and pants from the bin in the corner of the room. The bloody clothes he’d peeled from Taylor’s unconscious body were discarded in the small bathtub in the other room. He would have thrown them out if he didn’t think he could somewhat salvage the material. The things he might have thought were disgusting in another life flew under his nose.

He brought the clothes over to Taylor.

“Lift your arms.”

Taylor sat the vial on the crate beside his bed. In one fluid movement, he raised his arms and looked up at Ryan. Their eyes met and between that one second and next, Ryan felt his heart plummet to the pits of his stomach. He swallowed the want and need he had. This wasn’t the time or place. It never would be.

His hands grabbed the end of Taylor’s shirt and slipped it up over his head. His fingers grazed across Taylor’s soft flesh, sending zaps of electricity up Ryan’s arms. He wondered if Taylor felt it. If he felt a shiver up his spine or a chill over his body as there was inside Ryan.

The shirt fell on the bed.

The temptation was there. Ryan’s eyes took in Taylor’s naked flesh, the freckles along his shoulders, faint but there, and the light chest hair running down in a puppy trail to the waistband of his underwear. Ryan licked his lips and bit his lip. He rolled the new shirt in his hands and lifted it. Taylor put his arms through the holes and when his head popped through the collar, he grimaced.

“You alright?” Ryan whispered. He was breathless, the heat flushing to his cheeks and below his waist.