He tried to care for Kris the best he way could, repay Kris for the peace his presence brought to David’s existence. He made love to Kris until Kris screamed his name, until he was limp and spent and grinning ear to ear. He rubbed his shoulders every day, tried to relieve the strain of carrying the weight of the CIA’s hopes and the White House’s fears on his shoulders. He held him every night, whispered I love you into Kris’s hair before he fell asleep. If he could have, he would have bottled those days and nights, kept them hidden away, able to be lived in and remembered, like slipping into a
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