Paladin - Jericho's Boys #1 - ch. 18 (Patreon)

Unedited, unbeta'd, this one was hard. Ever“I want to start by saying this is a safe space.”Ever eyed Dr. Jeremiah Jones warily. Jeremiah Jones. It seemed like a fake name. An alias hiding a much cooler identity. If this was a web comic or graphic novel, Dr. Jones would be an undercover superhero. But this wasn’t a book, this was Ever’s reality. And in reality, Dr. Jones was Ever’s new therapist.Ever had been there for about ten minutes now. He sat on an overstuffed, but comfortable purple sofa, knees drawn to his chest. Dr. Jones sat in a tall high-back chair, legs crossed at the ankle. He had frogs on his socks. The thought stuck in Ever’s head, like a song on a loop. Why frogs?He looked…kind, Ever supposed, but his size alone was imposing. He was tall, well over six feet, and the olive green, probably cashmere cardigan he wore clung to well-muscled arms and a trim waist. He had warm, dark skin and intelligent, whiskey brown eyes framed by gold rimmed glasses that would have looked nerdy or awkward on anyone else.But Jeremiah Jones was a walking contradiction. His sweater and shoes were expensive, but his jeans seemed well worn, threadbare at the knees, not because it was trendy but because they were well loved. And despite his high and tight hair cut, his put together outfit, and this almost militant feel about him, he had tattoos on the back of both hands and deep scarring on his knuckles.When he caught Ever staring, he smiled. “I’m a boxer. Well, I was when I was in the Air Force. Now I’m a therapist, obviously.”“A boxer turned therapist?” Ever said. Another contradiction. How did one go from beating people half to death for sport to wanting to help them? “Okay.”Could Ever really afford to judge. His boyfriend had killed two people just in the few weeks they’d been together and his friends had killed far more, but they all treated him like a pet, like a baby. Something that should annoy Ever—he was an adult, after all—but it didn’t. He liked being babied. He liked getting presents and attention and getting away with pretty much anything. Did that make him a bad person?Ever continued to study the doctor. He couldn’t gauge the man’s age. It could have been thirty, it could have been forty-five. It was hard to tell. His face was wrinkle free, but there was a sadness to his eyes that made him seem like an old soul. Ever just wanted to know if he could trust this man. Not that age was a signifier of trustworthiness.Jericho and Arsen said he could trust Dr. Jones. And he trusted them. So there he was, sitting on a couch, heart in his throat, waiting to bare his soul to a stranger.After a moment, he smiled at Ever, then offered him a bowl of candy. Ever took a black labeled BlowPop, unwrapping it, then popping in his mouth, grateful for something to do.“What I mean to say is, you don’t have to be afraid to speak plainly here. I’m a good friend of the Mulvaney’s. We share…similar interests. But that doesn’t mean anything you tell me will leave this room. I’m bound by law to keep your secrets.”Ever blinked at him, twirling the lollipop over his tongue. “Okay.”Dr. Jones shifted in his seat, taking a piece of chocolate and unwrapping it, chewing and swallowing before he said, “Jericho has given me a very brief description of your life up until now, but I’d like to hear it from you. Would you want to talk about it?”“Does anybody?” Ever muttered, not really expecting an answer.Dr. Jones smiled. “Not at first, but eventually, yes. Sometimes talking through the trauma is the only way to heal.”The man’s question hung in the air between them, unanswered. Instead, Ever looked around the office as if his surroundings could offer some insight into the man across from him. It was as clean and tidy as the man himself, but a little shabby. Another contradiction.The building itself was old and the exposed brick was more from disrepair than an attempt at decor. The hardwood floors were marred by water stains and the furniture all seemed second-hand, but Ever couldn’t shake the feeling it was all…fake. All designed to make people think he was one of them. Whatever that meant.“Dr. Jones—”“Jeremiah, please.”Ever squirmed, not really comfortable using the man’s first name for some reason he couldn’t put his finger on.“Jeremiah,” he conceded. “What if I don’t have any trauma?”Jeremiah tapped his pen against his chin. “Do you think you don’t have trauma?”Ever shrugged. “Everything I read tells me I’m supposed to be…spiraling. That I should be having nightmares and panic attacks. That I should be afraid of the dark or going outside. That certain sounds or smells should trigger me. I don’t have any of that.”Jeremiah nodded. “When you think about your time before…before you were rescued, how does it make you feel?”Ever shrugged once more. “It doesn’t.”“Can you expand on that?”Could he? “It feels like it happened to someone else. Or maybe a different version of me. It’s not like I don’t remember or that I’ve blocked it out. It’s almost like I’m watching a movie. It just…I don’t feel anything when I think about it. There’s just before and after. Is that weird?”“Have you ever heard of the term dissociation?” Jeremiah asked.Ever shook his head, picking at a stray thread on the back of the sofa cushion.“Sometimes immediately after a traumatic experience, or sometimes even during years of prolonged abuse, your brain will…wall off the bad things. It’s a sort of self-preservation technique.”“Okay?” Ever prompted, hoping the man would explain further.“Did you ever feel like you’re outside your own body? When you said it was like watching a movie. Did you mean it was like watching bad things happen to another version of yourself?”“Yeah,” Ever mumbled.“Do you feel numb or detached when you think about it now?”“Yeah. I guess so.”Jeremiah nodded. “Dissociation is common, but when that dissociation disappears, that is when you can experience the effects of chronic PTSD. Right now your brain is just protecting itself while you get your bearings, but it can also leave you with a sense of not knowing who you are.”Ever gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t know who I am, Dr. Jo—Jeremiah. I don’t even have a name.”He frowned. The first real crack in his cool facade. “Ever isn’t your name?”“It is now,” Ever said, cheeks flushing.Jeremiah, twirled the pen over his knuckles. “What was it before?”Ever watched, transfixed as the pen moved, spinning through his fingers almost like magic. “I didn’t have one.”“No?”Ever corrected himself. “I mean, I’m sure I had one when I was born. At least, I hope I did. It would suck if my mom didn’t even care enough about me to name me before she sold me or gave me up for adoption or let me get kidnapped…or whatever.”Jeremiah nodded. “And the woman who held you captive? What did she call you?”“On a good day, Boy, mostly. On the bad days, nothing at all. It’s probably easier to torture someone if you don’t think of them as actual people.  Even dogs and cats have names. Her other victims had names. But not me.”Jeremiah made a vague sound, then asked, “Is that how you felt? Not human?”“I felt…” Ever started, a sudden lump forming in his throat. “I don’t want to talk about this.”“Okay. That’s fine. We don’t have to. But can you tell me why you chose “Ever”  as your name?”Ever trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t really remember,” he lied.Once more, Jeremiah made a sound that conveyed nothing. But Ever felt like he knew he lied. Which he had. But he was still offended Jeremiah thought he was lying. Which was kind of fucked up.But didn’t he deserve to keep some secrets to himself? He knew why he called himself Ever, he just didn’t want to say. It was too embarrassing.“Do you remember when you started calling yourself that?”He shrugged, hugging his legs tighter. “When I learned how to read, I guess.”“How old were you then?”“Eleven…twelve maybe? When she needed me to be able to go out and run errands without her. At first, she would just send me with a list and her debit card, and the corner store would just take the note and pull her items, but as I got older, they became less interested in helping me. So she taught me to read.”“What else did she teach you?”“Only things that would benefit her. She taught me to count. She taught me basic units of measurement because I needed to know how to measure ingredients when I cooked. Everything I learned from her was on a need to know basis and there wasn’t much she thought I needed to know.”“She never taught you to math? To add? Subtract? Nothing?” Jeremiah asked, tone neutral, like he didn’t want Ever to think he was judging him.Ever’s laugh tasted like bile on his tongue. “I wouldn’t say nothing. She taught me having an opinion got my mouth duct taped shut for days. She taught me burning food got me burned in return. She taught me that breaking things got my fingers broken. She taught me that being in her presence when she was in a bad mood was going to leave me needing a doctor. And she taught me that people who were supposed to help me—like those doctors—were the very same people who abused me. But no, math, history, science, that stuff I had to learn on my own.”“You seem…angry.”Was that the word for the hot, tight feeling in his chest? He shrugged, suddenly feeling like if he tried to talk, he might scream or cry instead and he didn’t want that. She didn’t deserve his tears or his suffering. She’d done enough to him. “Wouldn’t you be?”“Certainly. But when we started you said you didn’t feel anything at all. Anger is a feeling.”Ever didn’t want to be angry. “I just want to be happy,” he said, words thick.“And are you?” Jeremiah asked.Tears burned Ever’s eyes. “Am I…?”“Happy?”Ever blinked rapidly. “I-” He shook his head. “I don’t really know what happiness is.”“What emotions do you know?” Jeremiah asked.If anyone else had asked that, Ever would have thought he was mocking him, but Jeremiah was serious. “Sadness. Fear…”“Anger.”Ever swallowed hard, then nodded. “Yeah.”“Anxiety?”Once more he nodded.“How about depression?”Ever shrugged.“What about love?”What about love? Arsen’s face immediately came to mind. Arsen protected him and took care of him and kept him safe.  Arsen loved him. He told him so every night and every morning before he went to work downstairs.“Who are you thinking about right now?”“What?” Ever asked, cheeks burning.“When I said love, your face changed completely. Who were you thinking about?”“Arsen,” Ever admitted. “He loves me.”“And do you love him?”Ever nodded. “Yeah.”“I see.”Ever’s gaze flicked to Jeremiah, that tight feeling returning to his chest. “Don’t say it like that.”“Like what?” Jeremiah asked, tilting his head in a way Ever found inexplicably infuriating.“Like it's not real. Like it's just some fake emotion or trauma response. I love him and he loves me. Even if we haven’t known each other that long.”Jeremiah frowned. “I didn’t think that at all. But it seems like you might.”“No.”“No?”“No,” Ever said again, faintly. “People can fall in love at first sight. People can find their soulmates. People can have their happily ever after. Just because it happened fast, doesn’t mean its not real.”“Nobody’s saying it isn’t real, Ever. Nobody but you.”“I love him,” Ever said fiercely.“I believe you,” Jeremiah assured him. “But at some point, we’re going to have to examine why you’re so sure nobody else does.”Ever glared at him. “I didn’t say that.”“I think it's enough for one day. No? Why don’t we talk again in a few days?”Ever nodded, miserable, feeling like he’d failed a test somehow.###"What does your name mean?”Arsen looked up at Ever in surprise. He didn’t blame Arsen. It was a strange non sequitur. They’d been lying in bed, Arsen’s head on Ever’s belly, talking about fairly mundane things. The part for a ‘65 Shelby that hadn’t come in on time, the pasta they’d made off a YouTube tutorial an hour ago that had somehow tasted like rubber soaked in lemons, Felix’s diatribe in the group chat about proper post-sex etiquette and the cleaning of sex toys.They’d talked about anything and everything…except Ever’s therapy appointment that afternoon.“My name?” Arsen echoed.Arsen hadn’t pushed Ever about his session at all. He appeared perfectly content to let Ever act like the whole thing had never happened. And Ever was grateful. Arsen treated it as if it was any other night, he’d let Ever control everything, from dinner to the shower sex, which is how they’d ended up eating pizza naked in bed with damp hair and a movie playing on Arsen’s laptop in the middle of the bed.The pizza was long gone, the movie was over. Now, they were lying there, Ever’s legs twisted in the sheets, Arsen’s lying sideways, head heavy on Ever’s slightly bloated tummy.Ever nodded. “Mm. What does it mean?”Arsen grinned, his cheeks turning a bit pink, then he lifted his arm and flexed, the muscles popping in a way Ever found…pleasing. “Virile. Strong,” he said in an exaggerated deep voice, before deflating back to normal. “My father had high expectations for me.”Arsen’s father. He rarely talked about him. Not that Ever blamed him. Who wanted to talk about the man who killed your mother?“Your father’s in jail, right?” Ever asked.Arsen nodded. “Til he dies.”“Do you ever go visit him?”Arsen’s lip curled. “I tried. A couple of times after I turned eighteen. Jericho thought it would be a good way to give me ‘closure’. Whatever that means. But…it just made me angry.”“Angry?” Ever repeated. He was hearing the word a lot.“Yeah. My father…he’s never apologized. I know that seems like a ridiculous thing to say. How does someone apologize for killing your mom? But I thought he’d be…remorseful at least. But he wasn’t. Not even a little bit. If anything, he blamed me. Took every opportunity to tell me he was ashamed of me. Even during our visits. It was always, sit up straight, stop holding your hand like that. Why are you wearing pink? Are you trying to embarrass me?”“He was ashamed…of you?” Ever said, breathless.How could anyone be ashamed of Arsen? He was perfect. Smart. Sweet. Hardworking. Funny. Sexy… Ever’s hand moved by itself, his fingertips skimming over Arsen’s jaw line, his cheekbones, his lips.“He couldn’t handle having a gay son. He said he was embarrassed we shared a last name.”“What an asshole,” Ever muttered.Arsen chuckled, his features shifting beneath Ever’s fingers. “I’ll never get used to you swearing.”“Should I not?” Ever asked.“You should do and say whatever you want. I’ll always find you adorable.”Ever grew hot until the tips of his ears felt like they were on fire. He steered the subject back to Arsen. “But you kept his last name anyway?”“Mostly for spite, partially because a name change is a really difficult process, expensive too. Especially for someone who’s immigrated here.”“What does your last name mean?”“Lebedev?” Arsen said. “It means swan.”Ever’s lips twitched. “So your full name means horny swan?”“Hey!” Arsen scraped his teeth across Ever’s stomach until he flinched away with a laugh. “It means…well, yeah, I guess it kind of does. My dad said it meant swan bringer after a man who used to raise swans for the nobles. But my father was often full of shit.”Ever laughed, his finger tracing the bridge of Arsen’s nose. “Why do you call me besenok?”Arsen grinned, reaching up to boop Ever’s chin. “Because it suits you.”Ever rolled his eyes. “But what does it mean?”“It means little demon.”Ever’s mouth fell open. “You think I’m a demon?”“You did hiss at a girl just yesterday,” Arsen pointed out. “Besides, I mean it like…a term of endearment. Like baby or honey or sweetie.”Sweetie. Ever loved hearing certain words with Arsen’s accent. It made them sound special, even when they were very generic. “Should I call you something? A term of endearment?”“What do you want to call me?” Arsen asked, gently.Ever frowned. Nothing he thought of seemed special in any way. They were just names he heard thousands of times, in a million different romance novels. “I don’t know,” he said, flopping back against the pillows.Arsen took Ever’s free hand, playing with his fingers. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded unusually shy. “Back in Russia, my friends and family called me Senya. It’s not exactly a term of endearment but more like a family name. Something only the people closest to you use.”“But nobody here calls you that,” Ever said. “And you think of them as your family.”“They are. True. But once we got to the states, my mom was the only one who continued to call me that. After she died, hearing anyone else say it was…painful. But now—” He kissed Ever’s palm— “It would be nice to hear you say it.”“Senya,” Ever repeated, noting the way Arsen’s eyes went soft. “Senya,” he said again, liking the way it felt dripping off his tongue. “And nobody else calls you that? Not even your dad?”Arsen rolled onto his side, burying his face against Ever’s stomach, his words muffled. “No. Here everybody calls me Arsen. Even my father. He said it sounded tough. That it commanded respect. That it would help me toughen up.”“I’m sure other people think you’re pretty scary,” Ever assured him, even as he carded his fingers through his hair.“Do you think I’m scary?” Arsen teased, rubbing his nose against Ever’s skin until he squirmed, then blowing a raspberry, making Ever squeal.“No,” he said around a giggle.Arsen rolled back to look up at Ever. “Good. I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me.”Ever’s heart caught in his throat. He couldn’t remember a time where he was afraid of Arsen. Even in the beginning, he was far more afraid he’d give him to someone else than he was of Arsen harming him personally. He was still afraid, if he was being honest, and the reason hadn’t changed all that much.“I’m not afraid of you,” Ever admitted softly. “I’m afraid of being without you.”Arsen looked into his eyes. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”“Mm,” Ever said, noncommittal. Was that something Arsen could promise when someone had already threatened Ever twice? But he didn’t say that. He didn’t want to ruin their night.“Why did you want to know about my name?”Ever shrugged. “Something Jeremiah said today. He asked why I’d named myself Ever. It got me thinking about names.”“And…what did you tell him?” Arsen asked carefully.“I lied,” Ever admitted. “I said I didn’t remember.”Arsen frowned, taking Ever’s hand once more. “Why did you lie? You’re not a liar.”Ever sighed. “I don’t know. Cause it’s embarrassing.”“What is?”Ever closed his eyes. “Why I picked my name? Or how, I guess.”“Will you tell me?” Arsen asked softly.Ever chewed on his bottom lip, stomach churning with pizza and anxiety. “I didn’t learn to read until I was old. Like when most kids were thinking about their first year of high school, I was sounding out words like cat and hat. Up until that point, my world was really small. The size of a closet, really.”Arsen squeezed Ever’s hand.Ever just stared at the opposite wall. “Jennika kept the blinds closed, but sometimes when she wasn’t home, I would look outside and see kids playing. Watching them play was really all I knew about the outside world. Until she started bringing home these picture books and workbooks. They were for little kids, preschoolers. But I didn’t know that. Once I mastered those, I learned how big the world really was, how big the universe was.”Arsen’s palm was sweaty. Or maybe it was Ever’s. He didn’t know. It didn’t matter. “Her teaching me to read was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me. Best, because I had some kind of skill most of the world possessed, but worse, because books showed me that my life wasn’t normal and that most people were living happy lives. Most kids were living happy lives…but not me.”“Ever…” Arsen said, voice raw.Ever gave him a watery smile. “I preferred fairy tales because nobody was living those lives. There were no frog princes or children finding houses made of candy in the woods. I loved fairy tales, even the really dark ones. But my favorite book was The Ugly Duckling. Because his life sucked like mine. He wasn’t like others and neither was I. But eventually, he grows up and realizes that he was just in the wrong place with the wrong people. He wasn’t a duck…” Ever looked down at Arsen in awe. “He was a swan. Like you.”Arsen smiled up at him. “See you were meant to be with me the whole time.”Ever swiped at the tears on his cheek. “I sound so dumb.”“You do not. When did you choose Ever as your name?”Ever shrugged. “Happily ever after… It was my favorite part of every fairy tale book. It implied that no matter how bad things got, afterwards they got to be happy. I would say it over and over again. If I could just get through my bad stuff, I would be happy ever after. Every beating, every attack, every time someone touched me against my will, I would just repeat it to myself. Happy ever after. Happy ever after. Until, one day, the Ever in ‘happy ever after’ was me. So when you asked…that’s how I answered.”“What’s embarrassing about that?” Arsen managed, words thick.Ever shrugged. “I was a nineteen year old, living in a closet, clinging to a baby book of fairy tales. It’s stupid and lame and hopeful…and embarrassingly naive.”Arsen frowned at him, then took Ever’s hands, kissing each of his palms. “Hope is never stupid.”To Ever’s horror, he burst into tears. Arsen jolted into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around him.“I’m sorry,” Ever sobbed.Arsen shook his head against Ever’s. “For what?”Ever flailed. “I-I don’t know. I’m just…sorry.”Arsen sighed heavily but held Ever tighter. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, but if you just want to cry…then cry.”Ever didn’t want to cry, but he had no choice, the tears wouldn’t stop coming no matter how much he tried to stave them off. He cried until his face was on fire and his nose was stuffy and he was sure he was puffy and swollen. He cried until he had no tears left. Again.“I don’t know why this keeps happening,” he whispered against Arsen’s chest an hour later.“You don’t?” Arsen asked, kissing the top of Ever’s head. “If I had been through what you’ve been through, I might never stop crying. The fact that you wake up and smile every day is so fucking impressive. Like…you’re the strongest of all of us.”Ever’s eyes burned. “I’m just so…tired.”“Of course, you are,” Arsen said. “Who wouldn’t be? Let’s just get some sleep.”Ever nodded. “Yeah, okay.”Arsen kissed the top of his head. “Good night, besenok.”“Good night…Senya.”