Rerouting River by Dove D

Author:Dove, D.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-05-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17 - River

They perched up on the couch after eating, the piles of leftovers stacked in the refrigerator for later. River had been right, there had been entirely too much food, and he had made a point to tell Émile so. Émile didn’t seem to mind.

“There will simply be leftovers for you,” he said.

“I’m surprised you know what a leftover is,” River said as Archie spread himself over their laps, shedding fur and looking up at River in happy bliss.

“Really now,” Émile said, clearly doing his best not to pull a face at the dog near his designer suit. “That’s uncalled for. I’m perfectly well acquainted with leftovers.”

“Oh yeah?” River asked. The teasing was easy, and he was so grateful for it. “How often do you eat them?”

A moment’s pause. “You know, I’m not sure how that’s relevant,” Émile said loftily.

River laughed, surprising himself, but sobered quickly. Should he be laughing? There was so much that was wrong. His abused body desperately needed rest, and he felt like he had scorch marks on his soul, wounded and raw. He didn’t know what he’d do when it was time to go home—couldn’t think about it, without wanting to sob. And he was worried about Ben, who had left so suddenly, and with such a dark cloud hanging over him.

River hoped Ben was okay. Hoped Ben wasn’t upset because of something River had done.

“What is the matter?” Émile asked when he saw whatever expression had come over River’s face.

River wasn't sure whether or not to bring it up. Maybe it had been nothing, and River was just over-worrying. Why would Émile even know how Ben was feeling anyway? The two men didn’t like each other. River was still a little amazed that they had been willing to be in the same room as one another.

But Ben had contacted Émile. Just because River was hurting.

So River didn’t know what to think.

He shrugged. “Tired.” That was true enough, he felt weary down to his bones.

“Would you like to rest some more?” Émile asked.

“No,” River said, shaking his head. “I’ve slept enough. Been in bed practically all day. Just—” He gestured vaguely.

Émile nodded. “You’ve had… a difficult time.” It was delicately said, allowing River to brush by it if he wanted to. Considerate, but dressed up as politeness. That was very Émile.

It made River want to talk.

“It’s not just today. Or yesterday.” River pet over Archie’s soft fur. He spoke slowly, letting the words he’d never dared say aloud flow out of him. “It’s… all of it. The endless dead-end jobs, trying to scrape together enough money for bills, food. I know I shouldn’t complain, there’s so many other people worse off than me. It’s just—I’m always so tired, you know? And it never feels like I make any progress.”

He felt ashamed of complaining. Especially to Émile, who had done so much for him. Who did so much for him.

“River,” Émile said, full of meaning.

“And I don’t mean—” These words tripped out faster from the fear that Émile would offer him even more things.

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