Finding Zach by Rowan Speedwell

blurred eyes, sobbing and shuddering and crying hysterically.
    It was perhaps ten minutes later that the terror finally loosed its grip, leaving Zach limp and exhausted. He lay still, tucked up in a fetal position, waiting for his heart to slow. Finally, he unclenched his fists and stared at the red half-moons his nails had bitten into his palms. “Fuck,” he whispered, and got up, going into the bathroom to wash his face with cold water.
    He had only had one Scotch at the bar, so he poured himself another and sat at the kitchen table, holding the glass in both hands and searching the golden depths as if the liquor held answers. He wasn’t even sure of the questions.
    No, he knew the questions. What the hell had David wanted? And why the hell had Zach been such a dick to him? He couldn’t seem to stop fucking things up. First losing all control during his therapy session this morning and upsetting his parents, now this. If he’d ever had any remote hope of rebuilding his friendship with David, that hope was as dead as… well, as dead as Esteban.
    Zach rubbed the scar circling his neck from the dog collar he’d worn for five years, a habit he’d been unable to break. Feeling the rough dead skin somehow always helped him focus, help him settle. Stupid, he thought wearily. Like a toddler’s favorite blanket or teddy bear—only his was scarring from five years of misery. How wacked was that? Still, it was familiar. Almost comforting.
    The Scotch slid down his tear-roughened throat, the burn cauterizing his emotions. He was sitting debating whether he should have one more or just drink himself into unconsciousness like he did most nights when there was a sharp rapping at the door. Shit, he thought, and glanced at the clock on the stove to see that it was barely past eleven. Had his parents heard him coming home and were wondering why he was so early? He left the Scotch on the table and went to answer the door.
    To his shock, David stood there. He reached up and pushed gently on Zach’s chest; Zach stepped back automatically and David came in and closed the door. “Hell yes,” David said.
    “What?” Zach stammered.
    “Hell yes I’m interested. If it’s the only way I can get you to spend ten seconds in my company, hell, yes.” He pushed Zach back another step. “So what’s it to be? You want me to suck your dick, or you want to fuck me?”
    The breath whooshed out of Zach’s lungs. “What the fuck?” he gasped. “Are you crazy ?”
    “Yeah, I think so,” David said. He dropped down onto the arm of the sofa and looked up at Zach. His eyes looked as tired as Zach felt. “I have to be fucking crazy to be here. I just—shit, Zach, I just need some closure.” He looked away. “But I’ll settle for whatever I can get.” His lips quirked in a humorless smile. “Sorry. Forgot. No talking.”
    Then to Zach’s shock, he dropped to his knees in front of Zach and reached for Zach’s fly.
    Zach batted his hand away. “No,” he said roughly.
    “Oh, okay,” David said. He got up, moving stiffly, and unbuttoned his own jeans. “Where do you want me? I gotta warn you—I’ve never bottomed before, so I’d appreciate it if you’d take it easy….”
    “No.” Zach shook his head. “No fucking way, Taff. No. Just… just get the fuck out, okay?”
    Slowly David rebuttoned, not looking at Zach. His face was white and his hands shook. “Right,” he said numbly, and left.
    Zach stared at the closed door a long moment, then hissed, “ Fuck ,” and shot out the door, intending to chase David.
    He didn’t have to go far; just to the top of the stairs. David sat on the bottom step, his face in his arms and his shoulders shaking. “Taff?” Zach said uncertainly.
    David stood, wiping his forearm across his face. “I’m going,” he said in a muffled voice. “Sorry.”
    “No. Wait.”
    Shoulders slumped, David turned to look up the stairs at Zach. “I just need to know,” he said wearily, “why you