Cameron Kid and Jonny Geronimo: another little piece of something...

​His vision narrowed, unfocused, his breathing was loud in his own head. He stepped onto the parapet, heart thumping as loud as his breath, and pushed off.

He felt the collision instantly, like a freight train; no flight, no air, no freedom, but he was still breathing, no pain, heart thumping, thumping—his vision cleared a bit and he watched the ground disappear in favor of the sky while something like tree roots latched around his waist, driving him backwards, away from the parapet, and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding that came out in the form of “Shit! Fuck!” before he breathed too deep, thought he might throw up or pass out. He closed his eyes as the freight train who was a man took him to the ground with the tree roots that were, of course, just arms. Really fucking strong arms.

“Shit! Shit!” The words seemed to come out of their own volition.

A large, callused hand covered Cameron’s eyes, forcing him to rest the back of his head against a rocklike shoulder. Somehow the darkness calmed him down a little; enough to breathe almost normally and stop repeating “Shit!” with every exhale.

The hand slid away to rest on his opposite shoulder, crossing his chest protectively. Cameron looked down to find his hands like claws, digging nails into a man’s forearm, and it was almost impossible to get them to relax, but he eventually managed. Little crescent wounds marred the perfectly milk chocolate skin that could only belong to--

“Goddammit!” It was louder in his head.

“Relax, Kid, I won’t tell anybody,” Jonny Geronimo, voice as milk-chocolatey as his skin, breathed into his ear.

“Shit!”

“It’s ok, stay here with me. It’s ok, I promise.”

“Shit…”

Cameron noticed Jonny’s long legs sprawled out at his sides and was suddenly giddy. He laughed a little and rested a hand on Jonny’s rock-solid thigh, attempting to memorize the feel of being pressed so close against Jonny’s body now that he was fully conscious of it. The circumstances weren’t exactly part of his fantasies, but damn!

“You really won’t say anything?”

Jonny rested his chin on Cameron’s shoulder with a sigh. “No, never. But you have to stay with me. Just for a little while.”

“Up here?”

“Fuck no, it’s the weekend. Let’s get out of this place.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be the best company…” Cameron snorted and thought he sounded drunk.

“Shut up. Come on, just you and me. Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to! Let’s go.”

Good ole Jonny Geronimo, always the hero. You can't save everyone, Jonny-boy. “Then what?”

“Then? Then, if you still want to, do what you gotta do.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s your life, Cam. If you don’t want it anymore, that’s for you to decide. But, wait til your head’s clear. Things change, you know.”

“It wasn’t a whim, I’ve been meaning to do it for a while.” Jonny’s face broke his heart and he almost took it back. Someone so beautiful should never look so sad. “I—”

“Then, do it for me. Let me have this weekend to get to know you, since I won’t get another chance. Fair?”

Cameron’s heart shot up to his teeth. Spend his last few days with the boy of his dreams? Maybe he did hit the pavement. “Yeah, sure. Fair. Why not?”

Or, a going away present from the universe perhaps? What's the saying? Something about gift-horses mouths, or whatever… 

"Take me anywhere you want, Jonny-boy," he said with a laugh.

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