Louis touching him now, feeling the world tilt. Expression on his face familiar because he'd worn it before sitting alongside Daniel, no longer at the opposite end of the long dining table but near. Near enough that Daniel could see so clearly how Louis' face crumpled into hurt, into confusion. Memory coming slow to him, all things colored by betrayal.
He'd wondered what else he was missing. What more had been neatly pruned out of his head.
A dream, Daniel says. Louis' breath coming too fast, unsteady, heartbeat loud in his ears as he says, "Bitter, at first. I could taste the drugs, and the beer."
Disorienting, yes. Words that echo into an absence. Watching Daniel's face. Saying this aloud, unable to stop.
"You were underneath," as Louis' thumb draws up and then down Daniel's throat. "Black licorice. Tea like Grace'd make me when I lived in our mama's house."
A flashpaper memory of Daniel straightening beneath his fingers, looking up at him. Detached. A dream. Watching Daniel for recognition, for a repetition of something they have already done together, once.
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Louis touching him now, feeling the world tilt. Expression on his face familiar because he'd worn it before sitting alongside Daniel, no longer at the opposite end of the long dining table but near. Near enough that Daniel could see so clearly how Louis' face crumpled into hurt, into confusion. Memory coming slow to him, all things colored by betrayal.
He'd wondered what else he was missing. What more had been neatly pruned out of his head.
A dream, Daniel says. Louis' breath coming too fast, unsteady, heartbeat loud in his ears as he says, "Bitter, at first. I could taste the drugs, and the beer."
Disorienting, yes. Words that echo into an absence. Watching Daniel's face. Saying this aloud, unable to stop.
"You were underneath," as Louis' thumb draws up and then down Daniel's throat. "Black licorice. Tea like Grace'd make me when I lived in our mama's house."
A flashpaper memory of Daniel straightening beneath his fingers, looking up at him. Detached. A dream. Watching Daniel for recognition, for a repetition of something they have already done together, once.