Mind over body.
People say it a lot when they want you to something you're physically unprepared for. Gio used it all the time when we were training, forcing me to do more exercise reps when I complained about being too weak to carry on. Others said it to sound like they were on some sort of spiritual journey when they weren't really doing any more than they are perfectly capable of. I had seen stories of Buddhist priests who endured walking for miles and sitting in freezing pools and walking on hot coals when I was younger, and I usually felt they had received some sort of training to do all that stuff rather than that it was the result of overpowering physical limitations with the power of your mind.
Now I knew they weren't bullshitting.
Pain wrecked through me as I stepped away from the hotel room door, causing me to cramp and fall forward. I couldn't understand how I hadn't felt all this until now. I knew I was supposed to be giving my ass a break, but I had been fucked last night and I didn't feel any of this pain. Why was it happening now? Was I so horny or so loved up that it didn't register? I fell on my hands and cried a little. It hurt so much. Maybe Malone had just added to the damage and I was paying the full price. I heard footsteps running towards me and I was lifted up by a security guard.
"Are you okay sir?"
I didn't know how to respond. If I said yes, that would be a lie. If I said no, that'll mean that this guy would have to carry be around, which would be humiliating. The pain hit me again and tears welled in my eyes. The guard looked at me with concern and helped me up to my feet, supporting me. It was a little awkward to move as he was taller than me and trying to walk faster than I felt ready to. Somehow, we made it to the elevator and down to the lobby. Once we got out, he handed me over to a baggage handler, saying that he had to be back at his post in the camera room. I mumbled a "thank you" and tried to walk with the baggage handler, until I heard him sniggering. I looked at his face and once I recognized him, I felt horrified.
He was the receptionist from the other hotel.
At least he used to be. Maybe he got fired and took a job here. He was smiling smugly and looking at me.
"Well, your sins finally caught up with you."
I gave him an angry look, but with tears in my eyes I'm sure I looked pathetic because he laughed aloud. This wasn't happening. I wanted to die. He supported me until I got outside and called a cab. I was thankful he hadn't said more, because I was ready to put a fist in his nose. I sat in the cab and looked at him. He had a smile laced with schadenfreude on his face as the cab drove off. I settled into the chair and told the cabbie to take me to Swash's place. He nodded and looked at me dolefully. I'm sure I looked terrible. Barely minutes ago, I had been admiring myself and feeling great. Now I just wanted to die. Maybe Jason's doctors could put me in a coma so I could recover. Okay, that wasn't even funny to me.
We arrived at Swash's place. I asked the driver for the time and he told me it was 07:40. I hoped Swash hadn't left yet. I limped to the row of doorbells and pushed the one for Swash's level. There was no reply so I pushed again. Still nothing. I pushed repeatedly, hoping he would answer. Still nothing. I slumped to the ground and cursed aloud.
"Mike?"
Swash peered around the pillar from the parking area. I turned around slowly to look at him. He looked amused at first but his expression changed when he saw me. He ran over.
"Mike, what's going on?"
I groaned in agony. He helped me up and I limped with him into the building. We rode up to his level. I closed my eyes. Somehow the pain seemed to have gotten to my eyes and it hurt to look at anything. Swash led me into his apartment and put me down on the couch then picked his phone and dialled someone.
"Hello? Yes Rod? I'll be coming in late today. Little emergency. Take notes for me and I'll read them later. Yeah, let the guys know. No, it's okay, I can handle it. Thanks. Bye."
He hung up and looked at me, his face scrunched with worry.
"What happened, Mike?"
I sighed a little and said: "Sports injury."
He raised his eyebrows "You play sports?"
I gritted my teeth as the pain pulsed again and looked at him intently. "Sports. Injury."
He frowned a bit before his eyes widened as he realized what I meant. Then he blushed a bit and walked into the kitchen.
"Swash!" I called out.
He rushed back. "What's wrong?"
"Go to work."
"But I can't leave you here. You're in pain."
"Get me some Tylenol and go to work."
"Mike, you shouldn't-"
"I'll be fine. I've lived through worse."
I lied. I had never lived through anything like this. But I didn't want to spend the day with both pain and Swash's pity. I'd rather stab myself in the neck. He hesitated a bit and walked into his room, then emerged with a jar of Tylenol and some other medication. He left the pills in front of me and went into the kitchen to fill a glass with water. He came back to the couch and sat beside me, taking out the drugs. He placed one of each in my hand and the glass in the other.
"Here, drink up."
"What's this?" I motioned at the other tablet.
"Ambien. Should help you sleep."
"You use sleeping pills?"
"Not since last week." He showed me the pack and I noticed that only two had been used. And I was holding the second one. I swallowed the tablets and lay my head back. What had happened to him last week? I winced again from the pain. It was messing with my mind now. I wanted to think about possible reasons why Swash would resort to sleeping pills, but I suddenly felt groggy.
Swash got up and walked to the door. He opened the door and had stepped out partially when he turned to me and spoke.
"I left keys for you on the kitchen counter. Try to get some rest; I'll be back at four. If you want to eat or drink anything..."
I couldn't hear him anymore.
I woke up, blinking at the lights. I still felt a bit of pain, but it wasn't enough to keep me from sitting up. I looked around for a clock. 19:03. I felt really hungry. The house was quiet. I got up slowly and dragged my feet into the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge. There was a lot of food stuffed inside. I wondered if there was going to be a party or Swash just liked having food in the fridge. I grabbed a can of coke, bread, some ham and cheese slices and walked to the kitchen counter. I saw the spare key with a note under it. I picked it up.
'Security code is 1007. Bradley's birthday.'
I pushed the keys into my pocket and focused on making my sandwich. I was halfway through the third one when I heard the door unlock and open.
"Mike?" Swash called out.
"Here." I mumbled while chewing on a sandwich. I moaned a little in my throat. It was the best sandwich I'd ever had. Or maybe I was just incredibly hungry. Swash walked in, wearing gym shorts and a white shirt, holding a white plastic bag. He had been sweating, and the shirt clung to his body. I eyed him a bit then focused down at my stack of sandwiches. I didn't want to stare at his incredible hotness. Not right now. His hand grabbed a sandwich and I looked up to notice that he was standing in front of me, on the other side of the counter. He smiled as he bit into it. I forced a scowl at him and he chuckled.
"Glad to see you're better. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes. And you stink."
I smirked and looked at him as he laughed aloud. Then he shot me a naughty look.
"I guess now would be a good time to hug you."
He made a quick move to one side and I dropped my sandwich and tried to get away from him. I stopped due to the pain and he caught up and grabbed me from behind, laughing. I tried to laugh in spite of my pain. He leaned into my ears and whispered.
"You stink too."
I realized then that I hadn't showered in two days. Swash released me and I took a whiff of myself. He was right.
"I'm going to take a shower." He walked around the counter then stopped and motioned at the white plastic bag. "I wasn't sure about cooking tonight so I brought Chinese. It's really good."
"That's okay."
I watched him from behind as he walked into his room. I walked down the hall to where I knew the bathroom was and peeled off my clothes. I stepped into the shower unit. There was a white guest towel hanging inside and I took it out and placed it on a rack. I turned on the shower. The water was warm. I let it pour over me for several minutes before I used the shower gel. It smelled really good, like an expensive perfume. I finished up my shower and got out, drying off and wrapping the towel around my waist. I liked how soft and fluffy it felt. I stepped out of the bathroom before it clicked in my mind.
I didn't bring any clothes with me.
Damn. I couldn't wear the old clothes, they stank. I walked awkwardly out of the bathroom. Maybe Swash could let me borrow some stuff. Swash was already in the kitchen, eating the rest of my sandwiches. He stopped when I walked in and smiled with guilt, before eyeing me up. This was really awkward.
"Um...I didn't bring any clothes."
"There are clothes in your room."
"What?"
"You didn't think I bought you only that one did you?"
I remembered my last visit when I had to change clothes. I had taken them out of a stack of clothes I thought belonged to Swash. My eyes widened at the realization.
"You didn't-"
"I did."
I looked at him incredulously. Why was he always doing things I didn't ask for? Granted, they were all nice gestures and I'm sure a girl would appreciate them, jump for joy and hug him but they only made me feel worse. Now I felt like a major leech. I was sleeping in his house, eating his food, wearing clothes that he bought me and getting paid to do nothing.
"Don't"
I looked up at him, confused.
"Don't what?"
"Don't start calculating how much you're going to pay me back."
"I don't take hand outs, Swash."
He seemed a little offended. He got up and walked to me. I continued staring at him as he approached until he was inches away and looking down at me. I cursed our height difference. This felt less like a stare-off.
"I'm not doing these things out of pity. I know you like to stand up for yourself and feel independent, but sometimes you just have to let other people take care of you."
"I can do fine all by myself."
"No you can't Mike. Nobody can."
I continued staring at him quietly. He was still looking down at me. This was getting weirder. Did he want to kiss me or something? Suddenly he turned around and walked back to the counter. I breathed out. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath. He took the take-out packs out of the bag and put them in the microwave. We stood in silence for a few minutes. Then I realized I had not told him about my sleeping arrangements.
"Swash?"
"Yeah?"
"I'll have to sleep here tonight."
He looked at me and said nothing. I felt I had to add the rest of the details.
"And tomorrow night."
He still looked at me, but his face was forming an expression I couldn't quite understand.
"And tomorrow night."
He began to smile.
"And the day after that."
He did a silent laugh. "Just tell me you'll stay here for the two weeks. Breaking it down doesn't make it any shorter."
I grinned and looked at him. He was smiling again. I loved how he looked when he smiled. His eyes seemed to laugh a little more than his face did.
"You look incredible when you smile," he said suddenly. "You should do that more often."
I did my best not to blush and walked into the room I was supposed to stay in. I flicked on the lights and looked at the bed. It was covered in clothes, many still in bags from different stores. There were boxes of shoes on the side of the bed with 'Mike' written on a yellow post-it and stuck to the one on top. The closet had a jacket hanging on the door. In a daze, I walked towards it and looked at the lapel. Lanvin. I looked at the dresser. There were bottles of perfume in a shopping bag, some of them gift wrapped. I picked them up. Givenchy. Giorgio. Burberry. Carolina Herrera. Bulgari. I turned around and noticed Swash standing at the door and smiling sheepishly. I tried to speak but I was too stunned to form a proper sentence.
"Swash, what the-"
-Fuck?