Written Into Love ✔️

II

       

Over the past two years, Erik and Tristan had become almost an extended family to me.  Shortly after they moved in, I got them interviews at a restaurant a few blocks away from the apartment.  The manager was an ex-boyfriend of mine, but we were still good friends.  Of course, being cute young guys, they were hired as waiters right away.  Once they had somewhat of an income, they chipped in each week for the groceries.  Although, since they usually worked in the evenings, the only meal that I usually had with them was lunch.  Even after chipping in for food, I made sure that they had enough left for the necessities that they needed.

I did find myself acting like a parent to them at times.  Considering that Erik was nineteen and Tristan was eighteen, my thirty-two-year-old ass had to teach them a few things.  For a while, they were both guilty of leaving messes around the apartment.  That was something that I fixed pretty quick.  Neither one was all that great at doing laundry.  They picked up pretty quick on that after a few lessons.  And keeping their room clean, that was probably the hardest.  It seemed like once a month I had to get on them to clean up their room.  After a couple months though, they kept the mess to a minimum.

For the most part though, when they were home they stayed in their room.  Except when they came out to go to the bathroom.  That was really the only real downfall to our living arrangement, the guest bedroom didn't have a bathroom attached.  However, if it wasn't for that, there would have been days that I didn't see them at all.

There would be times when I was working on a novel that I wouldn't sleep until I got everything that I was thinking typed out.  I was always afraid that if I went to bed, I would forget the idea that I had come up with when I woke up.  Even if what I typed was a jumbled mess, it could always be fixed later.  That was one of the things that I liked about writing the most.  As long as the story was sound, the technical part could always be corrected after the fact.  Besides, I had a kick-ass editor that could fix even the most horrendous of my mistakes.

On the evenings that I was stuck to my computer, Erik and Tristan would pretty much leave me alone to my work.  Although, every once in a while, I had to take a night off and give my brain a chance to come up with new ideas.  Not really one for going out, I would take the time to lay on the sofa and watch a movie or something.  Once the guys got home from work, they would usually join me, cuddled up on the love seat.  It was always Erik holding Tristan between his legs with his back against his chest, usually covered up with a blanket.  Now, I might not be a genius, but I could tell how deeply Erik cared for his lover.  He was always protective of Tristan, even if it was by accident.

Everything about our little living arrangement was perfect.  That was until the fighting started.  It all started one night when the boys came home from work late.  I was up late, as usual, trying to get another chapter on my latest smut novel finished when I heard the door open.  Normally, the two of them coming home from work wouldn't have stopped me from typing.  However, the way that they were moving made me stop and get up from my desk.  When I looked out into the hallway, I was shocked to see Tristan trying to hold Erik up as they sluggishly walked to their room.

Tristan had a couple of cuts on his face and his hands had some scrapes on them.  Erik, on the other hand, had bruises already forming on his face.  Dried and wet blood was covering both of hands.  It was hard to tell if it was his or mixed with someone else's.  He was also limping on his left leg.  It broke my heart seeing the two of them looking like this.  I wasn't sure if I should try to help them or call for an ambulance.

It took everything that I had to ask them, "Oh my God, are you guys alright?"

Erik just looked at the floor as Tristan answered me, "We'll be fine.  I just need to get him cleaned up and into bed."

"Do you need help?  What happened?"

"I got this," Tristan replied.  "A couple guys jumped us when we left work.  Believe me, they look way worse than we do.  I'll get him cleaned up and into bed though.  Thanks for offering."

Tristan helped Erik walk into the bathroom and they disappeared behind the door.  I was actually so freaked out that I called my ex-boyfriend, who happened to be their boss.  I told him what happened and he genuinely freaked out on the other side of the phone.  He kept insisting that the area around the restaurant was safe and nothing like this has ever happened before.  After calming him down, at least as much as I could, he offered to walk them out on the nights that he closed.

Shortly after getting off the phone, the two boys came out of the bathroom.  Erik had a towel wrapped around his waist as Tristan helped him walk to their bedroom.  This wasn't the first time that I'd seen him without a shirt.  However, it was the first time that I saw the bruises on his ribs and abdomen.  Some of them looked like they were healing, leading me to believe that this wasn't their first fight.  Tristan had helped him into their room and shut the door before I had a chance to question it.

That was the last time that I saw the two of them for almost two days.  When they finally emerged, they acted as if nothing happened.  The boys went back to work and life went back to normal.  Everything was fine for a while until the boys came home beat up one night again.  Like before, they gave me the same answer.  Tristan helped clean Erik up and they went to bed.   I was still concerned about them, but unless they told me anything, there wasn't anything that I really do about it.  After the second time, I waited outside the restaurant for them to get off work.  There were no encounters for the month that I did that, then I stopped and let them be on their own again.

Over the next couple of months, the boys would come home with cuts and bruises on them.  The strange thing was, at least from what they told me, the attackers never tried to take their money.  Very few people knew that they were a couple, so I didn't think that it was gay bashing.  I was starting to think that it was some other guys that hated them from the shelter.  Although, since they pretty much kept to themselves, I couldn't understand why.

So, this was how our lives went for another six months.  I would do my work throughout the day and the boys would go to work in the evenings.  Every couple of weeks, they would come home bruised and bleeding.  Every time I would try to help them, but the answer was always the same.  At one point, I even tried to get the police involved, but that was about a waste of time.  Unless something could be proven, they couldn't have cared less.  It hurt me almost as much as they must have been hurting to see them like that.

And this was how we lived, until that one fateful night...