These Days

A/N: to my fans! You are so dedicated and I really work hard when I get your reviews! So I edited this chapter thanks to my semi-editor (lol) Lisa who drew to my attention my inability to treat wounds. But all is good now ☺ A simple fix. (Thank you Lisa! I really do appreciate you paying so close attention!) Oh, and it was also brought to my attention that “Jaques” and “Jacq” would be pronounced the same, but for the sake of Tye being an American, “Jacq” would be pronounced with a short “a,” essentially “Jack.” Where “Jaques” is a long “a.” Ok, I think that’s all the corrections this chapter needed. As for the other details I will work with them in the next update. Pray it is soon! Toodles!

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It should have hurt to hear his voice again. Only a few days ago he was puking his guts out from a simple phone call. But, even with that lilting accent drilling into his head, so familiar and yet distant, Tye couldn’t muster the energy to fight him anymore. Charlie always gave him good advice. Surely she wouldn’t be wrong on this one. And if he ever wanted to live beyond Jacques and his cheating, slimy self, Tye needed to face this problem face-on.



“What do you want Jacques?”



“Ah, I hate you using my full name. Call me Jacq again in that cute American accent.”



“No. Now what do you want?”



“Don’t be like that. I just want to see you again. I miss hanging out with you. Let me see you again. Where are you?”



Tye may be stupid for talking to the bastard but he wasn’t stupid enough to give ground. “I won’t tell you. But I’m going to be at my Birthday party in a few days. I’ll meet you at our old café beforehand.” Tye hung up before he could hear the reply. The phone was immediately turned off and Tye dropped his head his down, stretching out his neck, and wishing he had the brains to never talk to Jacques again.



The cabin soon became too confining and as much as he wanted a distraction, Tye didn’t think he could face Smiths calmly now. Too likely, he would say or do something stupid and ruin both of their days completely. So instead Tye snitched his coat and slipped out of the house. Heloise was camped out on the porch and for a moment Tye felt guilty about making him sleep outside, but he seemed comfortable enough where he had dragged a cushion off one of the rocking chairs. Tye rubbed his head slightly to keep him from barking but the canine didn’t bother fully getting up from his warm bed to follow so Tye made his way alone into the woods behind his property.



This late in the year the forest was pretty clear. Trees shook with their drying leaves and the slimy, creeping creatures that normally occupied the rotting beds on the ground were tucking away for hibernation, too lazy by oncoming winter to make a fight of one lone traveler.



Tye breathed in the cold air. Somehow, cold air always smelled like smoke to him. Like the world was burning from the chill. His hands chilled first. Their movements became stiff and uncoordinated so he tucked them into his jacket pocket and trudged on. He could feel the tingling in his toes before they slipped into numbness. His extremities had always suffered easily in the cold.



Soon the terrain bled away to rocky climbs and steep hills where the animal paths were tricky with unearthed roots and large stones protruding at odd angles. His body heaved as he climbed but the exertion worked to clear his head.



-



Smiths woke comfortable but chilly. He dragged the covers closer to his chest but it did nothing to alleviate the chill. With a growl he rolled up, throwing his legs over the side. Tye wasn’t in the room. In fact, the house was completely silent.



Smiths scrubbed his face and moved into the bathroom. A fresh towel was laying out. That was enough invitation for him. Smiths spent only a few minutes under the hot spray scrubbing himself clean again. With just a towel around his hips he uncovered a new toothbrush and proceeded to scrub his teeth, quick fingers straightened his hair. He had a rather prominent stubble by now but there was nothing for it.



Satisfied with his appearance, gruff though it was, he wandered back into the bedroom and though he couldn’t put back on his boxers (ew) he just as happily pulled on his old jeans (commando) and t-shirt.



Now he had spent a suitable time not worrying about the empty house and he had even slept in so Tye had some time to himself. Smiths stalked to the study, where he guessed Tye would go first and might stay unless dragged away. But the room was empty. Even the computer had been shut down properly. Next he tried the living room, the couch, the chairs, the kitchen, the porch. Definitely no Tye. But with his first creaking step outside Heloise was hurtling towards him from across the porch. Smiths petted him absent-mindedly and wandered over to sit in one of the rocking chairs. Both cars were still there. He wasn’t inside or anywhere evident on the property. Heloise was still there and surely he would have raised an alarm if anything was wrong. Tye probably just went on a short walk.



-



It was one thing to wander the woods in nothing but jeans, a light jacket, and tennis shoes. But rocks, more like boulders, were not so forgiving. Tye had felt the shifting sand and pebble just moments before the rock he was balanced on slipped and Tye’s foot slipped between two of the unsteady rocks. He stared up at the pale blue sky, his back and head aching where he had lost his balance and fell, and a distant twinge from his caught ankle reminding him that sooner rather than later he would have to move and stumble back to his cabin.



Tye tugged his leg faintly to judge how it might come free of the rocks and was immediately wracked with pain. Lines of fire slithered up his leg and jostled his hip. The pulsing in his head deepened another level and Tye pressed his eyes firmly closed. The technique seemed to work and a moment later the pain died slightly, leaving only the steady thrum through his leg.



Rolling up into a sitting position, Tye studied the awkward tumble of rocks overlaying his foot. Giving the appendage a slight tug produced another wave of nauseating pain. Grinding his teeth tight and fighting the urge to groan, Tye carefully gripped his leg and turned it until the ankle was visible through the rocks and he could pull it free. Out of the awkward angle the foot appeared pink and swollen but otherwise fine. It probably couldn’t be walked on but the injury was not so bad as to prevent him form stumbling home.



Rocks and struggling saplings provided handrails and his one good leg tensed against its new weighty responsibility.



-



Smiths had settled at the edge of the porch with Heloise across his feet. The mutt had his head resting in his master’s lap while his stubby tail thumped against the floorboards. He was in such a relaxed state the sudden shift onto his four paws, shoulder hunched, also had Smiths on his feet and staring hard into the woods.



It was Heloise that reached Tye first as he appeared at the very edge of the wood. Smiths was right on his heels but the small figure wasn’t moving towards them. With a brief sinking of his stomach, Smiths wondered if Tye had hoped they would be gone when he returned. As they got closer though, and Tye reached for Heloise but didn’t bend to pet him, Smiths frowned in suspicion at the one heavily strained leg and the other being held slightly off the ground.



Tye was very pale, paler than his lumberjack job should allow, when Smiths arrived and his face was pinched around the eyes and lips.

“What happened?” Smiths demanded, but he didn’t wait for an explanation, Tye’s stance being clue enough, before he lifted the shorter man into his arms and stormed back across the yard. Heloise nearly tripped him several times, particularly on the stair as the mutt tried to stay in front and keep pace at the same time, but Smiths managed to safely deposit his load onto the sofa.



Tye had squeezed his eyes shut and showed no intention of opening them even as Smiths knelt and began untying his sneakers. It wasn’t until the second shoe was being slipped off that Tye showed any signs of life at all. With a cry that sounded like it had been building in his throat, Tye rolled up and slapped two hands around his shin.



Smiths sighed and left the shoe on.



“I figured as much,” he said, “but I hoped you to be at least smarter than that.”



Tye made no response but Smiths didn’t really expect one, especially if Tye had been walking on a broken, or at the very least twisted, ankle. And he suspected that was just what Tye had done.



Sighing his disbelief and irritation Smiths went to the kitchen and filled a bowl with the few ice cubes in the freezer and cool water from the sink. Then from the bathroom he uncovered bandages and antiseptic, just in case there were any cuts.



When he returned to the couch, his pockets bursting with supplied and a bowl of hot water carried carefully between his hands, Tye had managed to remove his shoe. It lay some distance from the couch as though Tye had chucked it and the laces were barely hanging onto it.



Smiths settled the bowl on the floor, his supplies next to it and inspected the propped up ankle. It was a nasty blue on one side and swollen all over. The color where it wasn’t bruised seemed more pinkish than it should be too. Tenderly he lifted the foot and felt around the swollen area. He could hear Tye hissing but didn’t dare look up. Seeing Tye’s face twisted in pain would have dissuaded him from his inspection, and he needed to know how bad was bad right now.



Another few minutes and it was determined that the ankle wasn’t broken, but it had a nasty twist and Tye wouldn’t be able to use it for about six weeks.



Pulling a sopping hand towel from the bottom of the bowl and wringing it out as best he could, Smiths laid the towel over Tye’s ankle. From there he did a careful, perfectly medical examination for cuts and other injuries. The worst he found was some cuts and scraps on Tye’s hands, maybe from trying to catch himself. These were dressed with a little ointment and a quick wrap or band-aid.



When he was done and moving to return the stuffs to the bathroom a quick hand pulled him back to the floor. Tye was watching him through slitted eyes and a deep yawn escaped him but still he managed a “thank you” before shutting his eyes completely and letting go of the shirt he had gripped so tightly.



Smiths cleaned up silently and re-dressed Tye’s ankle. The cool, weak as it was, seemed to be helping some as the swelling eased a bit. Nonetheless, the man was an idiot. After all, who walked on a hurt ankle?



The house was shockingly empty of personal affects. Smiths plundered through, and reset, the bedroom, the kitchen, the living room (quietly), and the office. The office probably helped him the most, hosting a series of old art books, classics like Picasso and Monet, but also new art, graffiti, pop art, even graphic novels and some old comics. There were very few novels, and absolutely no personal photos. Basically, no clues as to who Tye was, beyond what he had been able to discover through their time together, which were:

1. Tye preferred tea to coffee but would drink coffee with milk and sugar if he needed to.

2. He was particularly fond of apples.

3. He was exceptionally strong for his size and had a beautiful body because of it.

4. He was an idiot who went through the woods without a cell phone or proper boots.

5. He made love sweetly but with a sharp edge of lust and power.

6. His ex was a douchebag on a few levels.

7. And he was far more popular and talented than he ever let on, or maybe even knew.



Smiths slipped an unlit fag between his lips and wandered back through the house. He was far too awake to take a nap and with all the rooms immaculate there was no work to be done.



With a last check on the still sleeping Tye and after laying a light cover over his prone body, Smiths tugged Heloise out of the house and back to his truck. The drive back was quiet, Heloise leaving his head out of one of the windows. And underneath the hot leather and plastic smell of his truck rose a faint, irritating, pervasive scent of mint.