The Devil's Trill Sonata (36 page)

“Yeah, yeah,” Darren said, but he was smiling—not grinning or smirking, but
smiling—
when Jayden let go of him. “Rachel’s visiting her folks today, all day, she promised. Ergo, I figured day in, film, food. Sex.”

“Always with the sex.”

Darren shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man of simple pleasures.”

“Yeah, right,” Jayden said, shrugging his bag off his shoulder and retrieving the letter. “Look. First, just look at that, and, um, tell me what you think.”

Darren raised his eyebrows and unfolded the letter. He was quicker than Mum, and the letterhead design instantly had him going, “What are you playing at?” in that absent, slightly suspicious voice of his. He skimmed it, held it out, and said, “Why are Bristol Uni offering you a place?”

“Because I applied for one,” Jayden said, and bit his lip.

“…Why?” Darren said slowly.

“I’m not going back to Cambridge,” Jayden said. “I didn’t like what I was becoming there, and I wouldn’t have been able to change colleges to get away from Ella and Jonathon, and I didn’t want to have it all over again anyway, and it’s too far from you, and…”

“Jayden,” Darren interrupted. “You’ve
always
wanted to go to Cambridge.”

Jayden sighed. “It was…it was the Devil’s Trill Sonata,” he whispered.

Darren cocked his head.

“I had this dream of going, but when I actually got there, it wasn’t anything like what I’d imagined,” he explained, tangling their fingers loosely at the first knuckles, plucking lightly at the ragged ends of Darren’s nails and staring at them as he talked. “It never lived up to it, and then…when you, you know, I realised even the dream wasn’t worth losing you over, never mind the reality. So…I dropped out. And applied to Bristol. The course is good, and it’s much closer, and…”

Darren squeezed his hand. “I get it,” he said quietly.

Jayden stared into those sea-green eyes and said, “I’ve been dreaming about Cambridge so long, I forgot how to change my plans. I didn’t expect to have you, and being without you…it wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t even close to worth it.”

Darren dropped his hands and stepped closer, cupping Jayden’s face in both palms and kissing him, slow and sweet, ignoring the bustling station around them and the stares from midday tourists and travellers. His mouth was smooth against Jayden’s lips, but his palms were rough; his nose brushed against cooler skin and felt like a branding iron without the pain. He was firm under Jayden’s touch, hot to the fingertips and warm to the heels of his hands, and he was real. Darren wasn’t—hadn’t ever been—a dream.

“See,” Darren whispered closely, forehead pressing into Jayden’s. When Jayden peeked, those pale green eyes were closed, Darren’s voice so faint as to be a series of breaths rather than any true sound. “This is you.
This
. And I love you.”

Jayden swallowed, pressed a soft kiss back to the corner of Darren’s mouth, and whispered, “I think you said something about going home for the day?”

“Mm,” Darren said and finally stepped back. Jayden kept one of those large hands for himself. “Taxi? Car’s in for servicing. I kind of popped the clutch yesterday. So, rental chariot back to the tiny palace?”

Jayden smiled and bumped their shoulders on the way out. “Romantic,” he teased.

“Yep,” Darren said, flagging down the closest taxi and holding the door for Jayden. “See? Chivalry and all that.”

“You have ulterior motives.”

“Uh, yes. Well done.”

Jayden pinched him, but the moment Darren had his seatbelt on and the taxi moved off, he leaned over to kiss a cheek and tug on a handful of curls. “Darren?” he murmured. “You’re everything.”

Darren eyed him for a moment, something unreadable in his face, then he smiled, squeezed Jayden’s hand on the seats between them, and said, “I know.” For the first time, it sounded like just maybe he meant it.

Jayden smiled and watched the sunlit city flash past the windows, a glittering mess of glass, concrete, and bad graffiti. The sun was soaring in the sky, the hot August fading out into September, and Darren’s hand was rough and warm in his. They had survived—survived the worst that Jayden could imagine—and in the air-conditioned taxi in a relaxed silence, he felt the solid weight of conviction in the middle of his chest.

They were going to make it.

THE END

ABOUT MATTHEW J. METZGER

Matthew J. Metzger is the front for a British-born author dragged up in the south of England as part of a typical nuclear family with three kids, a mortgage, and no dog because a dog would get hair on the carpet. A brief escape to the north to study focused his writing from daydreaming rambles to his first novel,
Our Last Summer
. It is unquestionably better than the dissertation he produced at the same time for his university degree, but probably not as inventive as the excuses he provided for missing classes so often.

Matthew has since returned to the London area, and therefore lives mostly on the public transport. He suspects that his next few pieces will probably involve homicidal characters on the London Underground. Visit him online at
matthewjmetzger.wordpress.com
.

ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

JMS Books LLC is a small electronic press specializing in gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender fiction (including erotica, romance, and young adult), as well as popular and literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. While our preference is for GLBT stories, we accept stories containing any and all sexualities, as well as general fiction without a romantic subplot. Visit our site at
jms-books.com
for our latest releases and submission guidelines!