“So he’s here then?” my brother says to me. He’s lounging in his bedroom, wearing a light blue button up top and deep brown corduroy pants.

He hangs a little off the bed, his long limbs lazy and relaxed. He brings both hands behind his head, and laces his fingers around each other. His shirt comes up a bit, revealing pale, white hipbones still remarkably attractive even though he’s pushing forty.

“Yes, he’s downstairs.”

“I’d like to speak with him,” he says matter-of-factly. I turn to leave. “I just want to talk to him,” he says, and lets an index finger trace up and down my thigh. When he hits the top of my stockings, he snaps the garter against my leg. “What’s this?”

My face flushes. “Who are those for?” he says, fingers now lightly wrapped around my leg.

Nathaniel’s name is dangerous in this house. I have no answer for him. ” I… wanted to look good, Billy.” I smooth down my skirt.

“You do.” He says, looking away and re-lacing his fingers. “Go get him.”

He lets me leave.

***

I approach Nathaniel in the kitchen. He’s hunched over a pad of paper on the table, and he’s scribbling furiously, unaware of my entrance. I watch him, counting the vertebrae of his spine through his distressed, black hoodie. I’m still not sure how he fits into those jeans; they look like they’ve been stitched on him thread by thread in some unforgiving and tedious process. Fueled by my apprehension, I approach him and callously grab the front of his pants. He leans back into me a moment before writing again.

“My brother wants to talk to you.” I say, low and lustful. He shoots a look over his shoulder.

“Now? I’m in the middle of something.”

“Just for a minute? He doesn’t like to wait.” I grab his hand, suddenly very serious, and make him look at me.

“Just don’t piss him off please? And let him speak first, he’s in a good mood. And…” He grabs my face.

“Fuck, I got it.”

***

I knock softly and crack the door open. He’s still on the bed and motions for us to come in. The sunlight is dim, peeking through black lace curtains, the impending evening holding as many secrets as I do.

“So we meet.” Billy stands and extends his hand.

“Yeah, yeah.” Nathaniel shrugs.

I put an arm around Nathaniel’s waist, presenting my prince to the king I’ve always sworn to love. Nathaniel’s phone vibrates, and he slides a delicate hand into his ridiculously tight pants to answer it. He prattles on about nothing in particular for a minute, asks me the address to the house, and hangs up after I respond. I hug him closer, but he makes no move to touch me.

“Come here,” my brother says to me, as he sits against the headboard of the bed. He wraps an arm around my neck to pull me back against him. His chest rises and falls in even, slow intervals. Nathaniel stares at us both, peeking through his unkempt hair.

“You’re beautiful.” Billy says to me, while Nathaniel fidgets with the hem of his hoodie. “I remember when you were younger; you’d have me rub your back and sing you to sleep. You’ve always had problems with nightmares.”

“So that’s why after we fuck you won’t be quiet until I rub your back.” Nathaniel says to me. I feel my brother set his jaw. Billy shoots a glance to Nathaniel, who’s already looking away.

Billy’s hand is low under my t-shirt, thumb making slow circles in the small of my back. Each circle is like a rope wound too tight. I wait for the burn as it spins out of control.

“He knows all about you,” I say to Billy.

“…And what does he know exactly?”

“Almost everything.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “How much you mean to me, how much you’ve helped me, how much I respect you.” Billy presses his lips to my ear.

“It’s good to know you talk about me as much as you talk about him,” he says with a sarcastic chuckle. Billy looks at Nathaniel, who stares at his beat up shoes. He’s hit the pavement more often than most vagrants I’ve met. He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to fluff out, as if he’s just been electrocuted by the energy in the room.

I turn to Billy and trace his fierce jaw line. “I love to talk about you, you’re important to me. You were there first.” Nathaniel edges toward the door, rubs the back of his neck and the side of his left arm, playing with a hole near the elbow of his sleeve.

“I love you,” I say against Billy’s neck. Nathaniel is watching us, mouth open and a soft snort escapes his throat, a sound of half irritation, half morbid fascination. He shakes his head and turns to stare out the window.

“Tell him about the time you went to England, Nathaniel! Billy has been there lots of times.” Billy’s hand rests on the back of my neck.

“It was cold,” is Nathaniel’s reply as he paces back and forth. His phone rings again.

“Don’t answer that.” Billy warns. Nathaniel’s eyes burn for a moment until his phone goes silent. “You’re going to have to get used to me being here because I’m not going anywhere,”

“It isn’t worth it.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is just, this is just fucked.” Nathaniel gestures toward the bed. “Way more fucked than I want to deal with.”

He looks at me a long moment and, without saying another word, leaves the bedroom. I hear the front door close a few minutes later.

The world implodes for a millisecond and it takes me a moment to process the speed with which Nathaniel had made his decision. I wasn’t even quite sure what he was talking about. I don’t cry, I don’t run after him. I don’t even ask Billy to hold me. The corners of Billy’s mouth turn ever slightly upward. He holds out his hand. For the first time in my life I don’t immediately grab hold.