They sit on the floor for hours, Dante
against the couch with his knees up and Ryan in the space between
his legs, leaning back on his chest. His head rests on Dante’s
shoulder and Dante’s arms encircle him, keeping him close. He’s not
letting go.
The tears have passed, though Dante still
trembles when the scene flashes through his mind unbidden, Ryan on
the floor, his legs twisted. He can’t seem to push the image away,
can’t seem to let it go, even though he holds his boyfriend tight
and he knows Ryan isn’t hurt. But it shook him up more than he’d
like to admit and every time he thinks of it, he kisses Ryan again,
his neck, his cheek, his lips, anywhere to prove to himself that
he’s okay.
On the other side of the room, the suitcase
lies open on the far bed, clothes strewn ab
