Robert was not asleep. He had heard Ethan come in at around three thirty, heard him staggering around downstairs, listened as he splattered the powder room off the kitchen with his vomit, and wondered what he should do about this boy/man. Was Ethan just drunk? Or was there more to it? He needed to have a talk with him.
He knew he needed to get rid of him. But he was afraid. He had never been alone, not since the desperate loneliness that followed Keith’s death. There had been, starting just a month or so after Keith had died, a succession of Ethans. At first, they were lured by Robert’s good looks and guileless charm, later by his bank account. In the beginning, these Ethans were the same age as Robert, but they continued to stay young, while Robert aged. Sort of like some twisted Dorian
