by: Nix Winter
Blog: Willful Kisses
Genre: m/m, hurt/comfort
Trust is one of my older stories. It’s almost 9,000 words long. I hope you enjoy it.
Vincent has issues. His therapist wants him to to go back to this lover, to the man he loves, and trust him. That’s easier said than done, but if he doesn’t… well, he hasn’t really got anything to lose. That ought to make it easy. It doesn’t
Depression leaves. The void it leaves comes is just as loud sometimes. Vincent watched the girl make his coffee, but his mind wasn’t really following her. His thoughts ran through memories of Ricky.
He started with the first attraction he’d felt. In the park, the energy and excitement, the very life in Ricky had both drawn him and awoke life he’d thought long dead. That first insult had been directed both to the pink haired artist and the young writer that lingered in the shadows of his own heart. It hadn’t been about Ricky having talent. In truth, he suspected if the brat had had no talent, that the moment would never have happened between them. That zap of attraction, protection, and insult would not have snapped between them if Ricky had been untalented.
The moment turned in his memory making more facets. He’d shown writing to someone in a park once. Idly, he picked up a coffee stir stick and pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes. That moment in the park with Ricky, that had been a new start.
Of course, it could have all faded away, gone back to the smothering misery he’d had before, if Ricky had not practically killed himself trying to climb up to his apartment building to get in to meet him. Vincent wondered if he’d ever have another rainy night and not think about Ricky, arms out, rain-wet hair in his face, standing below this balcony, screaming his name. That moment in the park though, it was the start of Vincent’s darker remembering
How fast old defenses and pain flared, burned through his numb soul, and turned to ashes under the fire that was Ricky’s love. Pain had been a constant companion, but Ricky had forced his way into that place in Vincent’s heart, forced out the hurt, but not without a fight from the hurt.
Some woman, blond, nicely built smiled at him then, thought she recognized him maybe. He turned away, picking up a mint from the counter, held it up to the clerk and she nodded, that she’d charge him for it. Ricky liked mint kisses.