Huh. He provides something for me, and I provide something for him—I can live with that. I understand why it’s advised against. We have no control over the other’s survival and when one of us is gone, what will happen to the other?
But I’d like to see someone else go through what we have and try to be society’s version of “normal” afterward. We’re going to have to define our own “normal”.
Our bond is unique. A connection I’ll never have with another soul. It was created through strife but proves our fortitude. Only people like us can risk codependency without it harming us like it can others. How can anyone judge us for finally finding a way to get the comfort, safety, and assurance we needed as children?
Darius walks into the kitchen. He looks between all three of us. “Fuck. Are they Oliver and Silas fighting again? Let me just grab a scotch and if by that time I don’t see somebody crying or yelling, I’ll just be on my merry little way.”
“Nope. No more fighting. Oliver and I have agreed that we have severe codependency as a result of going through something awful we survived together. As our prize, we get to handle it in a way that makes us feel safe. Fuck everyone else. We’re not broken. We don’t need to be fixed.” I work on the final layer of the cake, piling on extra strawberries.
“Halle-fucking-lujah,” Darius says sipping his scotch.
“I could drink to that. Pour me a finger, Darry,” Oliver says.
“No.” I point the spatula at him. He’s testing me on purpose. “But I’ll have one and Lakshan’s about to get a nice taste of this when I’m done using it on the cake.”
“Oliver, do you have anything to say?” Lakshan prompts, ignoring my threats. Apparently, I don’t have his submission back yet.
“Silas summed it up perfectly. All I would add is I’m glad we have people who understand us. Silas probably doesn’t care—well except when he’s an eight—but I do.”
No one seems to need an explanation for this “Level of Silas” rating system. “Is everyone aware of this ranking of me thing?” I ask.
“Oh yeah. The three of us came up with it,” Darius says, pausing to sip his scotch. “The scale of Silas from Terminator to Eeyore.”
Lakshan moves to return the book to Oliver—he knows better. He’s testing me. I intercept it. “Hey,” Oliver says.
“I’m the one who took that away and I’ll decide when you get it back.” I return it to the top of the fridge. “Lakshan, come here.”
He sighs. He knows this is coming. I don’t feel sorry for him. Even if he was helping, it’s the only way to restore the balance between us. It was the risk he took. I remove his collar. “This is mine. When you want to be my submissive again, you can beg me for it.”
I tuck one end of it into the pocket of my jeans. The other end hangs down my thigh. I cover the cake with the dome plastic lid and move to place the finished cake in the fridge for tomorrow.
“Darius, no more alcohol after that.”
“What? You have your coping mechanisms, I have mine. Fuck off, Silas.”
“You have plenty of coping mechanisms. Pick another for today—or at least until Wyatt gets home. I’m not watching you drown yourself in liquor.”
“Fine.” He sips his scotch slower. I’ll bet he has more upstairs.
“I am currently a free man,” Lakshan says, being a smart aleck. “And I would like to answer what you said when I walked into the kitchen Oliver. I don’t think about a house without you and Darius—ever. First, this place is a castle. Silas and I get plenty of privacy. I also come with my own set of issues. Ilikea full house and worry that you will want to move out someday. It suits me that you don’t want to leave. If Silas doesn’t stop you, I will.”
Oliver’s eyes widen. “Have you always been this scary?”
“Yes. It’s why I’m kept on a leash—but I’m off leash now.”
He’s not wrong, but he is playing it up a little. I’m amused enough that I almost laugh.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lak. TMI. No one needs to know the graphic details of your sex life,” Darius says, nursing his scotch.
Lakshan laughs. “That’s what’s considered graphic around here now?”
“Silas. Put his leash back on.”
Oliver’s still watching Lakshan. “You said first. What’s the second thing you wanted to tell me about my comment? Which for the record, I’m not worried about now that you’ve said what you have combined with our conversations this afternoon.”
“The second is, you are my child too, Oliver. I might not be on your adoption certificate, but I looked after you probably more than you remember. I don’t have thoughts of ‘when will that dancing bird fly the nest’? It would be so dark and dreary without you.”
“Wow, Lak. I think I’m realizing you’re sterner than you let on—it’s just hard to compete with Silas in that category when he’s not closer to Eeyore on the spectrum,” Oliver says.
