Page 67 of Sweet Thing

CHAPTER 34

Hang on to yourself

The strange, clinical detergent smell was the first thing Simeon noticed. He remembered that scent all too well. It was the one that seemed to permeate from every surface of medical establishments. His gut clenched. He knew where he was. Then the sound of electronic machinery filtered into his consciousness, the beep, beep, beep of a heart monitor. The sound was steady and regular. A large warm hand was clasping Simeon’s left hand, and he could feel the tickle of circles being drawn into his wrist with a finger. There was only one person who did that. A wave of relief swept over his body. Simeon cracked an eye to meet the glare of daylight, but it stabbed painfully. He winced and closed his eyes again. Sim’s mouth was dry, and his throat felt like it had been scalded. What the hell was I drinking, rocket fuel?

“Water,” Sim murmured. A straw was pressed to his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth and sucked cool iced liquid. When he’d had his fill, he gestured for the drink to be taken away. “Please, close the curtains,” he said, and then heard footsteps and the swishing sound of drapes being drawn.

“Open your eyes, look at me.” Bastian was beside the bed again. That deeply-accented baritone voice made Simeon’s heart stutter, and the beeping from the machine sped up, exposing his anxiety. He did as he was told and with the stinging daylight blocked out his gaze was filled by the smiling, yet concerned face of Bastian Roth. Bast looked tired, but his jaw line was freshly shaved, and his blond hair appeared a little damp, as if he had just stepped out of the shower. He smelled good, so damn good. He smelled like home. If Simeon’s whole body didn’t feel so wretched, the scent of Bastian alone would have made him smile. But Sim couldn’t force a smile in the circumstances.

Bastian laid his hand on Simeon’s brow and swept the hair that was sweat-glued there aside, and then he cupped Simeon’s cheek. The touch made a tangle of feelings erupt and war in Sim’s gut, fighting for release. Simeon wanted to curl into a ball and sob with the shame and guilt of giving into the addiction. The voice of Dr. Schroeder echoed in his head “You have the liver of a fifty-year-old. Any more alcohol will kill you.” He was lucky to be alive.

“You gave us all one hell of a scare. Don’t ever do that again, you hear? I don’ think my heart could take it”, Bastian admitted, as he leaned in and laid a kiss on Simeon’s brow.

Sim couldn’t speak, but this time not from thirst. The words were caught in his throat, strangling him. The anguish was too much. He turned his head away from Bastian and rolled over; pulling his knees up to hug tightly so he could make himself as small and insignificant as possible, and maybe disappear. Simeon was overwhelmed. He started to cry, and even though he felt foolish doing it, he just could not stop the tears from falling.

Simeon lay there with memories flooding his mind, of leaving his home intending to confront Bastian, but he’d stopped at a bar for some courage. He’d been weak, and after his first sip of Vodka cranberry, he’d given into the craving. Simeon had no idea how much he’d consumed or where his bender had ended. He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived at the hospital, but he thought Pieter might feature somewhere in the haze.

One bump in his relationship—the thought of Bastian not wanting him around anymore sent Simeon straight back to the bottle, and all of his good work and ‘time served’ sober had been swept away.

Simeon was ashamed and guilty about what he’d put his loved ones through. He’d probably fucked-up his career as well as his liver and relationship, and it had happened when he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy, and have a life with Bastian. Nobody in their right mind would trust him now, not after this. Not after he’d convinced everyone that he was sober and wanted to stay that way.

In the cold light of day, Sim was sure Bastian could never love the wreck of a man he truly was. It was as his therapist said, feeling powerless in his personal relationships was one of his triggers. And he had certainly been triggered. Simeon’s brain whirred in negative circles as he punished himself for his weakness and failure.

“Simeon,” Bastian’s soft voice cut through the barrage of self-hatred plaguing his thoughts. “Do you think I’m going to let you lie here feeling sorry for yourself?”

“Leave me alone Bast… Just go.”

“No”

“You don’t have to pretend that you still want me. I get it, okay. I know it’s over.” Simeon’s heart was an empty husk. He had nothing left, and there was no point fighting the inevitable anymore.

Bastian strode around to the other side of the bed, pulled a chair close, and sat. He pressed buttons on the bed frame to release the side railing on the bed and laid his head on the pillow beside Simeon’s. In the darkened room, they were a hands width apart. Bastian always enjoyed his pillow talks in the dark with Simeon, especially after lovemaking. Sex seemed not only to loosen their bodies, but the topics of conversation as they lay satiated in one another’s arms were always highly entertaining. But this… this conversation was going to be hard.

“I fucked up. This is on me, not you”, he murmured.

“You didn’t hold the glass to my lips. I made a bad choice… Another bad choice. I can’t fight this anymore; it’s over. I’m sorry.”

“Do you think you can get away from me so easily? We will never be over Simeon. Do you hear?” Bastian whispered intimately. “I burn for you.”

Simeon’s breath hitched. Bastian’s broad hand cupped the back of his head, and pulled him closer, so their brows touched “We had a miscommunication, and neither of us handled it well. But there is no way in hell I am letting you walk away from me… or drink yourself into oblivion to escape from me. I will hunt you down and hold onto you until you realize how special you are. I will not lose you, Simeon. I won’t.” Bastian was adamant. “You must know. How do you not know that I love you?”

Tears were streaming from Simeon’s eyes. The heart monitor was beeping rapidly. This was the first time in his life that a man said those words, and he’d wanted to hear them, wanted to let them sink inside and expand in his heart. Simeon didn’t want to run from the implications and weight of those three little words. He didn’t want to run anymore.

“I… I don’t understand what happened on Friday. I thought you didn’t want me and didn’t have the stones to say it. I just couldn’t bear the thought of being without you”, Simeon admitted with a wretched sob.

“Friday was not about you, okay? I was scared. I got some bad news and decided to deal with it alone. That was my mistake.”

“What bad news?” Simeon’s focus suddenly moved from his own concerns and onto Bastian’s.

“I got a message from my father’s Chauffeur, Max.”

“The guy who went missing after the accident?”

“Yes”

“That was him, the man in the elevator?”

Bastian nodded grimly. “He told me what happened to my father and Mattieus…” Bast said, and then went on to explain in detail.