Peace

They sat on the floor wrapped up within each other. Feeding each other comfort through warmth and physical proximity. Jonathan held Mayson sway, tightly and protectively, as if to convey to the smaller man that he was in no danger, that no one and nothing could penetrate this barrier, this force field that now surrounded him.

Jonathan rested his chin against Mayson's shoulder, his left hand lightly tracing abstract patterns along his cotton-covered back. His other arm was secured around his upper back, gentle fingers massaging his scalp and playing in his hair. He thought back to a few days ago, to the mania he'd opened his front door to. He sighed heavily, kissing the back of Mayson's neck lightly. He tightened his grip slightly as his mind began to process recent events.

The storm had been raging for hours, bright bursts of lightning streaking across the sky like cracks in a windshield. It lit the sky in strobe light-like patterns, giving the dark outside world a surreal view.

If he were honest with himself he'd admit that the book resting limply in his hands was forgotten because he was worried about Mayson. He watched out his front window as the rain pelted the earth and all its inhabitants and couldn't help but think how this storm fit the chaos of his mind.

Suddenly there was a pounding on the door. Frantic. Quick and frightened knocks that sent shivers down his spine.

Mayson?

He got up and pulled the door open quickly, spilling the object of his thoughts at his bare feet. Mayson was soaked to the bone, his clothes hanging from him as the water weighed them down.

"Jesus Christ, Mayson!" A blast of cold air and wind-blown rain rushed into the house and Jonathan had to fight to close the door.

"Mayson, my God, man, what are you doing here?" He didn't wait for a reply but instead lifted him into his arms. Instantly he noticed how much lighter he was, how frail he seemed. Mayson clung to him, greedily trying to gather all the warmth he could.

"Mace, we've got to get you warm. I'm gonna run a warm bath, okay? You're freezing."

Throughout this Mayson never spoke a word. He never made eye contact. It was almost as if he'd shut down completely upon falling at Jonathan's feet.

When Jonathan attempted to put him down in the tub to start the warm water tap, he got a reaction; though not the one he would have hoped for.

In a blind panic, Mayson grappled at Jonathan's shoulders when he realized he was going to set him down, screaming in such a way, with such terror, Jonathan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Mayson, Mayson, it's okay. It's okay, I've got you, baby, I've got you. I've got you, I won't let you go. Sh, sh, easy now."

When the screaming died to minute whimpers, Jonathan spoke again.

"Mace, we've got to get you warm. Listen to me, okay?" He paused a moment to make sure he had Mayson's attention before continuing to speak. "I'm gonna turn the warm water on and then we're both going to get in the water. You don't have to let go, or move, or do anything. Just hold onto me."

Mayson didn't reply verbally but tightened his grip in response. When the water level was sufficiently high enough in the tub, Jonathan lowered them into the clear depths.

It didn't take long for the water and Jonathan's embrace to warm him up. Jonathan watched the man in his arms closely trying to figure out how best to get them out of the tub without slipping and killing them both.

He had to get Mayson into warm, dry clothes. Gently Jonathan kissed Mayson's temple and spoke softly against his skin.

"Mace, I need to get you into dry clothes. Can you stand up for me so we can get you dry and under the covers?"

Mayson burrowed further into Jonathan's chest, a small whimper escaping his lips, but then he complied with such reluctance it broke Jonathan's heart. Jonathan stood with him and helped him strip off his sodden clothes.

Mayson did not look at Jonathan through this process and Jonathan, in turn, kept his shock of the abuse apparent all over Mayson's body covered quite well.

Somehow he kept his hands from shaking and kept the rage stamped down so as to not further frighten the one standing so trustingly in front of him.

Within no time Jonathan had Mayson dried, dressed in some old clothes of his that had been left ages ago, and under a warm blanket, secure in the fact that he was safe in Jonathan's arms.

Two days had passed now since that night. He thought about how foolish he was to expect that Mayson would trust him with his heart. His life, sure. His heart? Not in the twelve years since they'd met.

Jonathan looked down at the bundle in his arms. This treasure he valued above all else had fallen asleep curled up against him. This wall was getting extremely uncomfortable, and his muscles were beginning to protest.

Jonathan sighed a heavy sigh full of longing and failure and heartbreak. For a moment he rested his head in the hollow of Mayson's neck and breathed him in before gently kissing the inside of his jaw.

"I love you so much, Mayson. I'm here, sweet love. No matter how you want me, I'm here."

Mayson woke up warm with a sliver of sunlight coming in through the curtains shining on his face. He lay still upon waking, listening to the thump thump thump of Jonathan's heartbeat. Steady and rhythmic and strong. He smiled at their position. He lay on his right side, his head in the crevice of Jonathan's chest and shoulder, his arm wrapped around his middle. Mayson's left leg was entangled between both of Jonathan's, and Jonathan's right arm snaked under and around his back, while his other held tight to the arm across his chest.

Mayson hadn't woken up to peace in so long. Peace of environment. Peace of mind. A small smile played on his lips as he burrowed further into Jonathan's embrace. In his sleep Jonathan tightened his hold slightly before once again relaxing, a small sleepy sigh falling from his throat.

Mayson closed his eyes once again against the morning and allowed sleep to once more bring him into a dreamscape he hoped would stay docile.