After Supper

There was nothing after supper on Sundays, nothing but upstairs. Ryan and William would take a bath, Ryan would wash William's hair and they would both put on the robes that were the same color as Ryan's sheets. William would cry on the bed for fifteen minutes or so while Ryan stood by a window and smoked cigarettes. Then, Ryan would sigh and put out his last cigarette, walk over to William on the bed and begin to wipe his tears. No words. Never words. Small, affectionate, comforting noises, but no words. Then Ryan would untie William's robe and his own and William's silent salvation would begin. Longer, harder, more tears, more screaming. Someone would always be bleeding by the end of it.

Mondays were spent recuperating from Sundays. William generally slept until late afternoon and Ryan went out and bought his stock of vodka, wine, and cigarettes for the rest of the week.

Every day was planned out, every schedule was buried in William and Ryan's minds. But it was never the same, never repetitious. Eventually, Ryan knew, William was supposed to hurt Ryan and then William would become him. But that wasn't going to happen. William needed Ryan too much to hurt him and, though he would never admit it, Ryan was in love with William.

Ryan and William went to wash their hands after they were done eating and Ryan pulled his gloves on after he buttoned his jacket, telling William to button his or he'd catch a cold and he did not want to stop at Target to pick up Sudafed, thank you very much. William did, of course. He hated taking Sudafed because he'd fall asleep before dinner, but he would have buttoned his jacket anyway just because Ryan had told him to.

Ryan took his gloves off before they got in the car and handed them to William, smoking a cigarette and stamping his feet to keep warm, while William started the car and turned on the heater. Then Ryan got in, trying not to shiver even though the tips of his ears were red and William giggled and kissed them, turning the heating vents toward the other boy. "Do you need to stop anywhere for anything?"

"No." William murmured.

"Then let's go home. I'm freezing. I think I'll make soup to go with supper tonight." Ryan rested his arm next to the window and propped his chin on his hand. "And you should go online and order another coat. You've had yours for two years. It can't possibly be keeping you warm anymore."

"But—" Gabe had given William that coat the Christmas before . . . everything.

"We'll hang it in the closet, Will. You don't have to get rid of it." Ryan said, knowing exactly what William was thinking and not liking it at all. Tonight was going to be hell and Sunday was going to even worse, he knew. Last Sunday he had spent three hours just inside William, not to mention everything else he had done before and after the actual act itself.

"Okay." William said in the quiet voice he had adopted ever since his first night with Ryan. Except when he was screaming, of course.

"You need to call your mother, by the way. I'd forgotten. She called today when you were in the shower. I think she wants you for Christmas." Ryan didn't say it with any real emotion, just as if he were relaying the message. He knew William wouldn't go. William never went anywhere without Ryan. Not because Ryan wouldn't have let him, because Ryan would, but because he couldn't go anywhere without Ryan or he'd fall apart.

"I call on Tuesdays."

"The world won't stop if you call her when we get back to the house." Ryan said, slightly irate. "Oh. And we need to replace one of the light bulbs in the hallway. I'm too short."

"Okay."

Ryan frowned. William hadn't said much since they left the hospital. He typically didn't say much between the hospital and the restaurant, but he'd been uncharacteristically quiet throughout their meal as well. He reached across the space between them and began stroking William's hair. "You all right, baby?"

"I had a bad dream again."

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Ryan asked, tone immediately changing to that of the maternal mother, the loving boyfriend (although William and he both knew they weren't boyfriends).

Tears spilled down William's cheeks. He knew he had to tell Ryan why, but he knew Ryan wouldn't like the answer. It never occurred to William not to tell Ryan. If he didn't tell Ryan, then Ryan couldn't help him. "I . . . I kept you up too late already."

"It's okay, Will. I stay up late with you because I want to, not because you make me. And I want you to wake me up if you have a bad dream. You shouldn't have to be scared when I'm right next to you." Ryan murmured, wiping at William's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "All right?"

William nodded, wiping at his other cheek with the heel of his hand and blinking several times, his wet eyelashes shining.

"Good." Ryan pressed his lips to William's cheek. "Let's go home, baby. You'll feel better when we're not in this damn car anymore."

It wasn't the car. Ryan knew this. William knew this. But the older boy nodded. When they got home, Ryan buttoned his jacket and slipped the gloves in his pocket, taking William by the hand and pulling him up the shoveled sidewalk. Supper took two hours to make and it was already four.