Pixie (Ballsy Boys #5)

by K.M. Neuhold

No, the best thing for Eli is to get a job with Ballsy Boys. We’ll take good care of the little imp. He reminds me of a little elf, all happiness and glitter. Pixie. That’s what we should call him. It fits him to a T.

I swear, those two are gonna end up either fighting or fucking one day, and maybe both at the same time. If they do, I hope to catch it on video because I can’t be the only one who would pay good money to see that.

I shake myself out of my thoughts when I hear Heart say HIV. Even after all this time, it’s a trigger for me.

I haven’t been with Ballsy Boys long, but I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere more.

God, my Freddie, my bigger-than-life Freddie who withered away right before my very eyes. I loved him so much, and he loved me, and we thought we had forever…when we only had a few moments. Life can be cruel…and love even harsher.

I gently take his hand and squeeze it. “Reminding myself how lucky I am. Making sure that on my watch, no one dies alone.” The tears in his eyes are not a surprise, not even after his seemingly carefree flirting. “You’re not alone, Travis,” I say softly. “If you’ll permit me, I’ll be with you till the end.” He keeps blinking until he gets the tears and his breathing under control. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he says, his voice rough.

“No,” Travis says, gripping my arm with more strength than I would’ve thought him capable of. “We need to remember. We lost a whole generation of gay men, my generation. I lost so many friends. There were weeks when I had a funeral each weekend, each one with fewer people saying goodbye.”

“You’re so fixated on the possibility of dying, Bear, that you’re forgetting to live.”

“I’m fine, baby boy,” he says, but the broken sound of his voice tells me a different story. His shoulders are hunched and his eyes are red rimmed like he’s been crying. Where the hell does he go on these nights?

"You're an idiot, Bear," Travis says, his voice crystal clear. "I've been sugarcoating it so far, trying to be nice to you and give you advice, but I'm running out of time. That kid is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you’re a complete idiot if you let him go because of some misplaced idea that you need to protect him."

“It's not Pixie you’re protecting, you big idiot. It's yourself. You're projecting your own feelings onto him, but it's your own heart you're worried about. But he's good for you, Bear. He makes you feel alive again. He makes you feel. You can't let that go."

"What matters is love," he finishes, barely audible now. And Ryan, god bless him, leans in to plant a soft kiss on Travis's cheek. "I love you, my friend," he whispers. "Smooth sailing." Travis's face lights up like a fucking Christmas tree, and the love that shines out of it is so big that I should look away because it feels too private to witness. His eyes flutter shut, and he never says another word as his breathing drifts away into silence.

He’s mine.

And since we got caught in my office, everyone knows we’re together anyway, so there’s no need to hide it anymore. None of the boys have an issue with it though. Apparently there were several bets going on regarding what was happening between us. Fuckers.

I know you promised your dying boyfriend you’d be there for the dying, and God knows that you held that promise. I’m now releasing you from it. You’ve fulfilled your promise. You’ve had enough. Go live, Bear. It’s another dying friend’s last wish.

“I love you, Daddy Bear.” He drags in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide and his lips parting in surprise. His grip on my hand tightens, and he brings his other hand to my face, gently running the pads of his fingers along my cheekbone and over my nose, then tracing my lips with them. “You’re too perfect to be real,” he murmurs as if to himself. “I love you so much.”