Warmth Pt. 02

I could tell that it was Pine screaming. It was an intense sound. All I wanted to do was go to Pine and help him calm down, but I was barely aware of where I was, let alone where he would be. I recall walking somewhere when it was happening, but after that it felt more like I was being carried away.

It felt like it only took a little while for me to regain my senses. When I fully came to I was in a hospital. I was walking through it, but I was being helped by someone, a man I didn't know. I asked what was going on and he said my arm was broken. I was led to a hospital bed and was laid down on it. There were exams and x-rays, and the doctor told me that I had fractured my humerus and sustained a light concussion. I didn't need a cast, they gave me a brace and a sling that attached to my neck so that less weight was put on the bone. I was in some pain, but nothing unbearable. Mostly I was just confused.

From the moment I was coherent I wondered how I had gotten to the hospital. I asked the doctor and he said that an ambulance was called to my house by James Velasquez. I wasn't sure how James could have even known about my injury. I had fallen in my backyard and he was about a mile away as the crow flies. I decided to save those questions for James, though.

It wasn't long before I was allowed visitors. The first one I saw was Pine. I thought he was jumping in the air for a split second before I saw James behind him, wrapping his arms around Pine to hold him back. Pine was putting up quite the struggle. His arms were pinned to his sides but his legs were kicking frantically. He was losing his mind from the looks of it.

I had no time to ask James anything. He left the room so we could be alone and I spent the next ten minutes trying to calm Pine down. My hospital bed was raised up so I was in a sitting position and I used my right hand to reach out to him. Pine was crying more than I had ever seen from him before.

He cried very strangely. He didn't wail, didn't sob or whimper. He didn't even breathe all that heavily. He was tightly controlling his breathing as well as trying to keep still, and I could see how much tension that put on his muscles. There were only two things that indicated he was crying. The first one was the tears, which came out of his eyes like water from a faucet. The second was the shuddering. It was so strong it would sometimes vibrate his whole entire body. Pine made crying look physically painful. It reminded me of the panic attacks he would have at night, like he was trying as hard as he could to be quiet.

Looking at him, I could tell that he must have been at it for quite a while. His eyes were red and puffy. His hair was messed up, like he'd been balling it up with his fists over and over. He had red, blotchy patches on his face and neck. He just sat there, crying his eyes out, not bothering to wipe anything leaking out of his eyes, nose, or mouth.

Over and over again, I felt my heart break. What I hated more than anything else was that I was the one who did this to him. I was careless and was paying the price for it. I made Pine cry. Again. All I wanted was to hold him in my arms, but I couldn't. I just stroked his cheek and repeated the same phrases over and over. It's okay. I love you. I'm sorry.

Eventually, after a hellish nightmare that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, Pine regained his composure. He proceeded to hold my hand with both of his and rub it against his face like he was a cat. I called out to James that he could come in and he walked through the door.

"What happened? How did you know I broke my arm?"

He smiled weakly. "It was all Pine's doing."

I raised my eyebrows and he explained.

"I was just at my home, minding my own business, when I heard pounding at the front door. I unlocked and opened it to see Pine. He was sweating, panting, and freaking out."

My jaw dropped. "He ran to your house?"

He nodded. "Yep. And from the looks of it, he didn't pace himself, either."

I looked over at Pine in disbelief. We had driven over to James' multiple times before this, but I never thought he was paying attention to the route we were taking, let alone enough to remember it. He also apparently ran the whole time. It was probably about a mile and a half altogether. He must have heard, seen, or sensed my fall and went out to check on me. I'm assuming he came out right after it happened and I was still unconscious, so he panicked when I was unresponsive. I guess that James was the only other person Pine could turn to.

I was stunned. Often Pine would surprise me by showing off his animalistic side, but all of those actions were remarkably, unmistakably human.

James continued. "I had no idea what was going on, but I figured that only one thing would have put him in that state, so I got him in my car and drove to your house. When I saw you, I called for an ambulance."

He paused for a second to take a deep breath.

"You weren't unconscious, but you weren't coherent, either. I kept trying to talk to you, but you wouldn't respond. When the paramedics came, one of them helped you up and you walked with them to the ambulance. I had to keep Pine from running after you and he screamed like he was being boiled alive."

That was what I had heard back there. Pine really was crying out like I'd heard.

"I almost couldn't hold Pine back," James said. "I had to hold him down so hard I found these later."

He walked over and lifted Pine's shirt. There were bruises on his sides. James apologized and I told him that he didn't need to.

"I drove him to the hospital with me. He started crying an hour ago."

I winced. "I'm really sorry."

He shook his head. "It's fine. I'm just happy that you're gonna be okay."

I looked over at Pine again. He now only held my hand with one of his own. The other one was clutching his necklace like it was a rosary. I felt myself choke up but pushed down the tears as best as I could before I turned back to James.

"Thank you so much for all you did today. I'm really thankful to have you as a friend."

He nodded sagely.

"I'm sorry to say this, but can you leave the room for a bit? I'll meet you out there in a minute, I just want to talk to Pine alone first."

He nodded again. "Take your time," he said, before leaving.

I turned to Pine. I felt myself tear up again, but I desperately pushed the feelings back down.

"Pine?"

He looked at me with those piercing eyes of his.

I knew he didn't understand words, so I put everything I could into my tone.

"You've had a rotten day. That's my fault, and I'm sorry about that. But I want you to know something."

I grabbed him and pulled him closer.

"I'm not going anywhere. There's no need to worry. I'll keep coming back for you. Every single time. No matter what I have to do to get to you, no matter what it takes, I will always come back, because I love you, Pine. Don't ever forget that."

I felt a few tears by the time I was finished. I knew I had done my job right when Pine smiled and nodded at me, but then I wondered if I'd done my job too well when he started crying again.

I cursed under my breath. "No, Pine, please, don't cry..." I scooted over, a bit of pain flaring up in my arm. I patted the spot on the bed next to me.

"Come here."

He crawled onto the bed barely big enough for one person and I grabbed his head with my free hand. I pulled him close and put him right against my chest, his ear near my heart. He calmed down after a few minutes.

I signed myself out of the hospital soon after and rode home in James' car. Since I got up from my bed Pine refused to let go of me. He didn't let go of my right arm, even when I needed to use my hand to do things. James thought it was hysterical.

On the way home, I pulled out my cell phone. I winced when I saw that I had several texts, missed calls, and voicemails, all from my mother's phone. They were all sent out around the same time. I suddenly remembered the odd sensation on my thigh I had felt when I was out and was treated to the mental image of myself laying on the grass, barely conscious as my phone was blowing up in my pocket. Without looking at any of them I called her. I started talking the instant I heard her pick up.

"Mom, I'm fine."

"What happened to you?"

Mom had done stuff like this a few times before, been able to sense when something bad happened to me. I had asked her about it in the past and she says she just gets feelings sometimes. I had heard a theory that all mothers form a sort of sixth sense involving their children, and I had no trouble believing that that was true.

"I fell off my roof and broke my arm, but I'll be fine. Doc says it will heal in about a month."

"Gimme a second, sweetie, I'm getting your father."

A few moments later they were both on speakerphone and I gave them the abbreviated story. I left out the part involving Pine and said one of my neighbors saw me and called 911.

By the time I was done we had arrived at my house. I told them to hold on for a minute as I said goodbye to James and walked in with Pine still latched onto me. Once I was sitting down I spent the next ten minutes answering questions, mostly from Mom. She's a worrier like me, though not nearly as bad. Even still, she always had my well-being on her mind.

I felt guilty for most of the phone call. I realized that I hadn't called or texted either of my parents in a while. I had been so occupied with Pine that I forgot about it. I felt bad because I had usually made it a point to keep up communications with them since I'd moved out.

I was an only child and spent much of my childhood without friends my age, so for much of my life they were the only ones I would have to turn to. We had our disagreements, arguments, and even fights, but I never doubted how much they loved me and cared about me. When I went to college I had met so many people who didn't have good relationships with their parents They became estranged or just drifted apart. I had realized then that I was lucky to have the bond with them that I had and vowed not to take it for granted.

I continued answering their questions. Most of them were standard until my Dad asked one that gave me pause.

"Will you still be able to come home for Thanksgiving?"

I would always drive down to my childhood home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I never thought that the broken arm would keep me, but I did have Pine living with me now.

I turned and looked at him, holding me like I was his most prized possession. He had completely worn himself out that day. I knew how much he loved me, but the day's events made me worried that he was psychologically dependent on me, like I was his whole world. I remembered his screams of pure agony when he saw his whole world being carried away in an ambulance.

I wanted Pine to get more used to the idea of me being gone, knowing I would always come back. It would make it so that he wouldn't tear himself apart whenever something happened to me. I figured that having him spend a few days without me there would help with that. Besides, given how clingy Pine had been ever since I left the hospital, I had a feeling that I would need a break from him soon enough.

"Zach?" I was interrupted from my thoughts by my father's voice.

"What? Oh, sorry, Dad. I spaced out for a second there. Yes, I will absolutely be coming for Thanksgiving."

I suspected that they knew I was thinking about something in particular, but they didn't press the issue. After we talked for a few more minutes we said our goodbyes. I made sure to tell them both that I loved them before I hung up.

The next call I made was to James.

"Did you break your other arm?" he asked jokingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Ha-ha. No, I called to ask about something. I'm going home for Thanksgiving and I'll be out of town for a few days. I was wondering if Pine could stay with you then."

"That'd be fine. I don't have any plans for Thanksgiving." He said matter-of-factly.

"Thanks. You're a life-saver."

"No, it'll be fun. I'll talk to you later."

I said goodbye and hung up.

I slumped back into my chair and looked at Pine. He looked so happy, so content just being in my presence. That day I had found out just what lengths Pine would go to for me. I didn't feel like I had earned so much commitment and affection. I wasn't anything special. I was just me.

Still, I was the one Pine had imprinted himself on. I couldn't change that fact even if I wanted to, so I needed to do what I could to make it up to him. I pulled him closer so I could kiss his forehead and tell him that I loved him.

Afterwards, I pulled out my phone so I could order some pizza. I didn't want to cook anything and felt I had an excuse to indulge, as long as Pine could do it with me.

XI

The healing process wasn't painful, just a little inconvenient. I'm right handed, so I wasn't too limited by the brace, though I had never realized just how much I used my left hand as well. I was told to spend as much time as possible with the collar and cuff and to only take off the brace when I needed to shower. Whenever I did I would look at the gigantic bruise around my bicep area, watching it change colors over time.

I spent the first few days relaxing in bed, Pine right next to me. I think on some level he thought that if he let me out of his sight I would go off and injure myself again, because he was near me almost all the time. Ever since we left the hospital, one of the things liked doing was laying his head against my chest so he could hear my heart beating.

Sleeping with the brace on was fine, just awkward. The first night I tried keeping my left arm out of the way and wrapping my right arm around Pine from underneath. That was a terrible mistake; when I woke up my arm was so asleep I couldn't feel anything. The sensation of only having about one half of an arm total was a horrifying experience. When I managed to get out of bed I literally slammed my right arm against the wall until I was feeling things in it again. I opted to just lightly lay my braced arm on Pine after that.

Those days were quiet and lethargic. For hours upon hours I'd lay in bed, reading a book or using my laptop. Pine was always by my side, aiding my recovery with his presence.

I returned to work a week later, and things were back to normal for the most part. I'd work and cook, Pine would sculpt, and we settled back into the routine.

It was at about that time when Pine started getting moody again. One of the colder mornings when I tried to pull him out of bed he snapped at me, hitting my hands and snarling. When he went for six hours straight without trying to touch me I knew that it was happening again. Thankfully I had prepared for it, making use of a purchase I had made the previous month.

I had purchased a small sexual aid on the internet, which was one of the most bizarrely uncomfortable experiences I'd had in a while. When it got to my doorstep I hid it away in my dresser and tried to forget about it.

I didn't even like the idea of having that thing in my house, but I got my money's worth. Pine wasn't picky. Whenever his hormones flared up, I would just strip him bare and leave him alone with the item. After thirty minutes or so he'd be completely satisfied, happily passed out on some furniture or even the floor. Pine's libido never gave me any problems after that.

Our lives continued as normal in the days approaching Thanksgiving, and I prepared for Pine to spend two nights at somebody else's house. I packed some clothes, his toiletries, and anything else I thought he'd need. I showered him twice beforehand so hopefully James wouldn't have to do it himself during those three days.

When I dropped Pine off I made it a point to thank James for being so supportive. Unlike me, he had other friends and I knew that he was expending a large amount of his time and energy on me and my problems. He told me not to worry about it, but I could tell that he appreciated it more than he let on.

Before I left I held Pine in my right arm and kissed the tip of his nose. I told him to be good and I would be back soon.

I began the drive down to Alabama. I didn't make the trip very often, considering how long it took. From start to finish it would take about ten hours, and that was if I didn't run into traffic.

I didn't really mind. Like hiking it gave me some time alone with my thoughts. The day I had found Pine was during one of the last times of the year before it got too cold for me to hike, so I hadn't had some me-time in quite a while.

One of the things I thought about during that time was whether I was doing the right thing by keeping Pine and not filing a police report about it. I knew that Pine was happy with me, but I wasn't sure if I was doing what was best for him. While slim, the chance was there that he had a happier life with somebody else before I had come into the picture. That person might be out there, not knowing if Pine was alive or dead.

I'm ashamed to admit that I pushed down that thought. As selfish as it was, I didn't want that to be true. I didn't like the thought of Pine loving somebody else more than he loved me. I also knew that if that situation occurred, I would lose Pine. I did what I could to shove the idea away. It's likely not the case anyway, I told myself. I shouldn't worry so much about it.

One thing I resolved to do was tell my Mom and Dad about Pine when I was visiting them. I couldn't really say why I felt the need to keep it from them, but I had to come clean about it sooner or later. I knew I didn't have much willpower, but I promised myself up and down that I would tell them before I left.

I was glad when I arrived and was able to escape all the things I had lodged in my head. I got a warm welcome when I got to my childhood house and felt at home in no time.

Southern parents have a reputation for being very firm but also powerfully nurturing and loving towards their children. It's not really a common practice anymore, but when I was growing up spanking was something almost all parents did to keep their children in line. I had some friends whose mothers hit them with a wooden spoon whenever they did or said something stupid. I could see why many parents didn't like the idea, but some families just worked in different ways. I personally didn't get any physical corrections from my parents, but tough love was a practice they used without reservation.

My parents were hard on me growing up, always keeping on my back and making sure I didn't get complacent or lazy. It drove me nuts at the time but looking back I knew they did it because they loved me and wanted to see me successful. Once I grew up they chilled a bit and I started to see them as friends as well as parents.

Mom is the sweetest and also toughest person I knew. I was taller than her by the time I was fifteen, but even when I had six inches on her she could still tower over me when she wanted to. I was her only child, so she always took the time to show me how much I meant to her. I realized later that a lot of the tricks I would use on Pine, grabbing his face, kissing his forehead, letting him hear my heartbeat, were all things my mom would do to make me feel special when I was little.

My father was more indirect, quieter and more reserved. He was a huge man, six-five and bulky. If he got angry he would be terrifying, but I could count the number of times I'd ever seen him lose his temper on one hand. Mostly he was like a big teddy bear. He was soft-spoken and preferred to let his presence do the talking for him. He wasn't as hands-on with his affection as Mom was, but when I was a child and he had me in his arms, I'd feel like he could protect me from anything.

I outgrew the need to be held and nurtured eventually, but they showed their love to me in other ways during my adolescence. During those years I was a bit of a crybaby, but they were always there to offer comfort without judgement.