Page 10 of Deviant Need

I need Daniil. I always need him when it gets like this.

My feet are already carrying me down the hall before I can stop myself. He always makes everything better, especially when everything’s too loud, and the only thing that shuts it up is being close to him.

But lately he keeps pushing me away, asking for space like that’s something we do now. We don’t do space. We’ve never done space. He won’t let me crawl into his bed anymore, keeps saying we’re not kids and it’s weird, that we need to stop. I don’t understand why he’s acting different all of a sudden, but it needs to stop because I can’t handle this distance between us.

Pushing the door open, I slip inside quietly and find him curled on his side, face peaceful in the dark. City lights through the window paint him in shades of orange and shadow. That little silver hoop in his nose catches the light.

I should turn around and go back to my own room. That’s what he’d say if he were awake right now, give me that look and tell me to leave. But I’m so tired of being pushed away, so tired of him acting like we need boundaries when we’ve never had them before. I slide into his bed and pull the covers over me, pressing myself against his back and wrapping my arms around him to pull him closer.

He stirs, makes a sleepy noise. “Mikhail?” His voice is rough with sleep.

“I need you,” I say, hoping he isn’t going to kick me out again.

He turns over, faces me in the dark. His eyes are barely open, still half-asleep. “You threw up again?”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“I’m fine.”

He goes quiet for a moment. “You could’ve just told me in the morning.”

“I didn’t want to tell you in the morning. I wanted you and your bed.”

“My bed’s exactly the same as yours. There’s nothing special about it.”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, there is. Yours is warmer.”

“They’re identical beds, Mik.”

I scowl at him. “Mine doesn’t have you in it, so no, they’re not identical.”

He huffs out a breath that might be a laugh, and I wrap my arm around his waist, pulling him closer. He fits against me perfectly, always has, his head tucking under my chin while his breath warms my throat.

“We’ve been doing this our whole lives,” I mutter. “Why is it weird now?”

“Because we’re not kids anymore.”

“So? Still works. You sleep better when I’m here, and I sleep better with you.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, then his body relaxes against mine. “You can stay.”

Burying my face in his hair, I inhale his watermelon scent, then drag him closer, even though he’s already pressed against me with nowhere left to go.

He lets out a sigh that sounds almost pained. “Go to sleep.”

“Trying to get you closer.”

“I can’t get any closer than this unless I literally laid on top of you.”

I lift my head and look at him. “Then do it.”

“What?”

“Lay on me. Come on.”

“You’ll complain that I’m crushing you,” he mutters.