Page 12 of Conflict Conclusion

Too bad he didn’t have time to say any of that, because Leon was talking again, his voice growing heavy with sleep as he spoke.

“I’m glad you went on your trip,” Leon said, yawning loudly. “And I’ll get to see you in just a week, but…I still miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” James said, the wetness on his hand and sweat cooling on his brow driving him from bed.

“I’m just so fucking grateful I have you,” Leon said, his words blurring together as sleep fought to pull him under.

James used a towel to wipe himself down, laying it neatly on the side of the sink before collapsing back into bed.

“So am I.”

“You’re like…the one stable thing in my life,” Leon said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “So much is changing. But…you’re you, and…we’re us. And nothing has to change.”

James rolled over, grabbing his discarded pillow and hugging it like he wanted to hug his boyfriend.

“Nothing is going to change between us, baby,” he said, even if that wasn’t entirely true. Moving in together was a good thing, though…right? It wouldn’t change their relationship, it would just enhance it.

Right?

“Love…you...” Leon mumbled.

“I love you, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, baby.”

“Mmmm…night.”

“Good night,” James said before ending the call and clutching his phone to his chest.

Chapter Four

LEON

It was hard to say if it was a blessing or a curse that Leon always knew when he was dreaming. In some ways, it made the nightmares more bearable, because at least he knew they weren’t real.

On the other hand, it often left Leon feeling like he was trapped in a windowless, doorless room, almost like that red room in the haunted house. At the time, he thought the claw marks on the walls were a bit much, but now he thought he understood it. Just the night before, he’d been trapped in his dad’s hospital room—the actual room, not the over-dramatized one from the haunted house—and he had nearly climbed the walls trying to get out.

Tonight, there was a new pounding sound swirling through his head, changing the layout of the dream until he found himself underwater, pounding on the window of Hailey’s car as it sank to the bottom of the river.

He assumed it was the river that ran below the city. In just a few short weeks, Hailey would be heading to the university south of town, and that river would be yet another obstacle between them.

Leon had actually gone to the same school, crossing that river every day as he went to and from classes. If he was a better neighbor, or maybe a better pseudo big brother, he would be helping Hailey get ready for school with tips and advice.

Instead, he was holding his breath in a dream, pounding hopelessly against her window, trying to free her before yet another accident he dreamed up took her away for good.

He really should talk to Kaden about the dreams, but after months of therapy he was pretty sure he already knew what he would say. Something about repressed emotions, unprocessed trauma, and crushing guilt.

He didn’t need to pay thirty-five dollars an hour for that. He also didn’t need to drudge up the dreams, Hailey’s accident, or his dad’s fucking decades-old death every other Thursday. He had enough to deal with.

Just like everything else in life, he was sure this too would pass. No matter how hard he fought it, life kept right on moving. The summer was almost over, and he would be expected to attend Hailey’s going-away party in a little over a week.

He still hadn’t gotten her a gift. He wanted it to be something meaningful and heartfelt that could say all the words he just wasn’t capable of saying. Every time he tried to open his mouth to say he was going to miss her, and that he hoped they could stay in touch, it felt like…

Well, it felt like he was at the bottom of a river, fruitlessly losing oxygen as he fought with the door handle of her car.

The pounding grew louder, and the cadence quickened, no longer matching Leon’s banging on the window. Slowly, the dream faded, and he blinked his eyes open, safe, warm, and dry in his bedroom.

There was a brief, glorious moment of silence before the pounding started up again, coming from his front door.

Leon groaned and tried to get up, but his legs were hopelessly tangled in the sheets. He ended up half falling, half crawling out of bed. By the time he managed to drag himself upright he had no interest in finding a shirt, so he just used the knotted sheet as a sort of skirt, covering his boxers and tattooed legs as he answered the door.