Leroy Adkins is an underperformer. He barely graduated. He barely got a job, and he hardly socializes in his day-to-day life.
Zachary Turner has been sick for as long as he can remember, and as he grows older the crushing realization that he never...
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Saturday night was a blur, and Leroy could only remember the supercharged feeling and the overwhelming warp that was the sexual chemistry between him and Zachary.
They had gone to bed sometime around eleven in the evening, and how Leroy was coasting between being half awake and dead asleep in the early hours of the morning. During the periods when he would be somewhat awake, he would reach out for Zachary—touching the man's arm, or tracing the sharpness of his face, and times, when he was dead asleep his mind, would refresh him on the previous night's events, reliving their kisses and touches.
In one of the brief half-awake trances, Leroy had reached out for Zachary, and the man just wasn't there. Leroy frowned, reaching out further. And just like before, it was just the feel of a hard mattress covered in a bedsheet. The younger man opened his eyes to confirm what his hands had told him. He got up quickly, hurrying out of the room just to find Zach sitting on the sofa in the living room, heaving with every breath.
"Zach?" the younger man asked, squinting at the man in front of him, who seemed to be struggling to breathe. "What's wrong?"
Zach looked over at Leroy, opening his mouth and then closing it back again before shaking his head. "Nothing."
"Don't do that. What's wrong?" Leroy asked in a stern voice, approaching the sofa. "Let me help."
"I don't know, not breathing well. I feel like I'm going to pass out when I get up," Zach admitted, and Leroy's eyes went wide.
"I can go back home and grab my mum's car..." he said, looking up at the clock. "Fuck, how far is the nearest emergency room?"
Zach shook his head. "I don't need an emergency room. I just need something to eat and some rest."
Leroy looked back down at Zach, who was heaving, rocking, and shivering all at once. "Zach, you need to go to the emergency room."
"I don't—"
"I'm taking you to the emergency room," Leroy said, ignoring Zach. He walked over to the kitchen, grabbing a frozen dinner before putting it in the microwave. When it was done, he picked it up and dropped it on the coffee table with a fork.
"Have this. Have me on the dial if you need me. I'm going to run back home for a bit and come get you, okay?" Leroy said, rushing to the door and putting on his shoes.
He looked ridiculous, of course, in Zach's pajama pants that were too big for him, and the shirt he hadn't changed from yesterday, but that wasn't important now.
"I'll be back in twenty. Hold on," the younger man whispered before opening the front door and heading out. He was back in the next half hour with a car, and soon he was helping Zach into his wheelchair and into the car.
"Hold on, I'll try my best to get you there as fast as I can without getting a ticket," Leroy said, looking at Zach who now had his eyes close and was still breathing heavily. Leroy gave him a concerned look when he didn't get a response but swallowed his worry as pulled out of the driveway.
