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He rifled through the kitchen and found lots to drink. Boxed juice, bottled water. As Josh poured himself some water, Kir opened the freezer.

He turned to Josh. “I’m hungry. Should I throw in one of these frozen pizzas?”

Noise roared through his head. Josh stiffened in fear, aware of the glass in his hand only after it broke, cutting his palm. Beyond that, he couldn’t think.

When the noise subsided, Kir was beside him, trying to open Josh’s wet fist while Josh clung to the pain.

“Josh. Please let go.”

He breathed in once, then slowly unclenched his fist. The blood ran. Kir’s hands shook, but he took out the large shard that had sliced Josh’s palm. He led Josh to the sink to run water over the injured hand. The cold water soothed. The noise in Josh’s head receded.

“It’s not a deep cut.” Josh kept his voice even. “I was lucky. Check the bathroom for a first-aid kit.”

Kir eyed him and Josh nodded encouragement. “I’ll be okay while you get a first-aid kit. I’ll bet Trey has stocked this place well. Just look at the kitchen.”

“Okay.” Kir dashed away while Josh let the cold water numb his hand. He just focused on that numbness. He needed it.

Kir was back, touching him, soothing Josh’s frayed nerves with his careful attention. Kir dried the hand with a clean cloth, applied antibiotic cream, then gauze and tape. Loosely clasping Josh’s wrist, he drew Josh to a kitchen chair and pressed lightly on Josh’s shoulder until he sat.

The rules had changed. Last summer, only Josh could touch Kir. Josh’s body had been sensitized by his time as Brad’s Zombie. Josh shuddered at the memory and Kir, misreading Josh’s body language, backed off.

“No,” said Josh. “I’m just remembering too much. Always a mistake. Brad ate a lot of frozen pizza.”

“I’m sorry. I should have known. My brain’s slow today.”

“I can’t eat frozen pizza, that’s all.”

Kir reached for Josh again, then checked himself. But unlike last summer, Josh, while not exactly the most relaxed he’d ever been, wanted that contact.

“Come here.” He opened his arms.

Kir looked at a loss at the change of rules, so Josh stood and pulled Kir into a hug, a little roughly as he remembered Ed and that fucking gun. He wanted Kir safe.

“Goddammit,” Josh swore into Kir’s hair because he felt too much and he couldn’t explain anything. Kir grabbed him, clutching his back, trembling. Though no calmer than Kir, Josh made shushing noises. There was solace in their embrace. Josh ran a hand through Kir’s thick, tangled hair to calm Kir, to calm himself. Kir’s tears dampened Josh’s neck. He didn’t know how long they stood like that but, eventually, they came to rest their foreheads against each other.

“Despite my PTSD”—Josh had never wanted PTSD, well who did, but now he had it in spades—“we need to eat and drink.”

“There’s some kind of lasagna in there.”

“Perfect.” Josh stepped back before he started kissing Kir. If they made out now, they would never got their meal and Kir needed to eat.

Kir retrieved a frozen tray of food from the freezer and stuck it in the oven. He poured them both juice and ripped open a bag of popcorn. “Let’s sit in a room with more comfortable chairs.”

A couch and a coffee table made up the living room. They settled there, Kir stuffing his face while Josh could barely swallow. Though he forced himself to drink, his appetite was shot. Stress did that. Kir noticed and Josh just shook his head.

“Give me time. I’ll be able to eat later.”

“I’ll get you another drink.” Kir went back to the kitchen and Josh could hear him cleaning up the glass he’d dropped earlier. Kir, endlessly thoughtful, incredibly kind. Josh embarrassed himself by blinking back tears as he remembered how Kir had cared for him during his first days after Brad, when Josh had been a physical and emotional wreck, and Kir hadn’t flinched from Josh’s attempts to hurt him.

Kir returned to the living room and Josh held out a hand. Kir took it without hesitation. Josh drew him into his lap. Kir curled into him.

Josh’s cock went hard against Kir’s butt.

Kir met his gaze. “I thought you hated me.”

“No.” Josh palmed Kir’s cheek, then carefully touched Kir’s eyes, his brow, his temples, his wide mouth, remembering the beauty there, because Kir was, by any standard, gorgeous. He submitted to Josh’s touch, as he always did, eyes darkening with desire.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Josh.

Kir frowned. “I know that.”

“I didn’t. I was terrified I’d kill you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Such belief.”

“Yes.”

Josh cradled Kir’s face in his hands. “I missed you all winter.”

Solemn, Kir gazed back, unable or unwilling to respond. With his thumb, Josh traced Kir’s lips.

“I didn’t forget how beautiful you are.”

Kir’s lips parted.

“Do you mind being called beautiful? Some guys don’t like it. I could say you’re hot and it would be true, but you’re beautifully hot.”

Kir blushed and Josh leaned forward to press his lips against Kir’s. Kir stilled, perhaps because of his own personal demons, perhaps fear for Josh. He tongued Kir’s lips. Kir groaned, opened his mouth, and Josh plundered. Kir’s mouth was sweet with juice, salty with popcorn, all Kir-taste and eagerness. The kiss took over and soon they were grappling with each other, making out for all they were worth, making up for their lost year.