My Other Half Read online

  My Other Half

  S. Michelle

  Contents

  Thank You

  CONTENT WARNING

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  My Other Half

  By S. Michelle

  What do you do when you realise you want more than brotherly love from the man that hates you?

  * * *

  He was my best friend, my brother and my whole world. Then everything changed.

  Eighteen months ago, my twin brother walked out of my house and my life.

  I should be grateful. I have almost everything I could ask for. I am sailing through a university course I love. I have wealthy, loving parents and friends I adore.

  * * *

  But one thing is missing.

  * * *

  I am struggling to rebuild a relationship with a man that can’t stand to look me in the eye.

  What will it cost us when he discovers I want to have more than just a brother? To have my other half.

  * * *

  *This novella contains a relationship between two consenting men of a taboo nature

  Published by S. Michelle

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  My Other Half Copyright ⓒ 2019 by S. Michelle

  Cover Art by: Cate Ashwood

  Beta Reading, Editing, and Formatting by: LesCourt Author Services

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law

  * * *

  First Edition

  June 2019

  Thank You

  I have a few people that I really need to thank.

  * * *

  Thank you to Scotty for being the first person to ever read anything I had written and not pointing and laughing. I don’t think anyone who has not written something could possibly know what a big moment that is.

  * * *

  Thank you to my Beta reader Kirk Waite for encouraging me to jump off the cliff no matter how terrifying it is.

  * * *

  To my editor M.A. Hinkle for your amazing advice and not complaining about how much work you had to do to make my stream of consciousness ramble look vaguely usable. I wonder if LesCourt keep a leaderboard in the office of authors whose work required the most corrections. I hope so. I have never won anything before. (Readers - please keep in mind any errors are mine. Even a really good editor can’t prevent the evil that is an author making changes after editing has been done…)

  CONTENT WARNING

  This book contains content of a taboo nature. Both characters are consenting adults, however the nature of their taboo relationship may be considered objectionable by some viewers.

  1

  I threw my bag into the corner of my room and flopped down onto the unmade bed. How did things get so messed up? I rolled over and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. Or a few hours. A light knock on the door interrupted my ceiling inspection, and I sighed and called out, “What?”

  Dean, my housemate and best friend, opened the door just enough to pop his head in. “So? How’d it go, Tom?” he asked gently. I knew he was asking about Gabe, my brother, but I wasn’t sure how to answer. I didn’t need to worry; the sigh was obviously answer enough.

  “Nothing to say. He was polite. I hate it. I really fucking hate it.”

  I tried so hard not to cry on the way home. But now my stupid eyes wouldn’t stop with the stupid tears running down my stupid cheeks. The bed dipped as Dean lay next to me, curled his arms around me, and held me tightly. He didn’t say a word. He knew they wouldn’t help. I gave in and let myself cry until I had nothing left.

  * * *

  Gabe was my brother. Literally my other half. We were identical twins, and up until eighteen months ago, we had been best friends. We had never done anything apart. Mum always told everyone how we were the perfect babies until it was time to move out of our cots into our “big boy” beds. After putting two twin beds on opposite walls, we carried on a treat each night, and they found us on the floor in the middle of the room each morning. Eventually, Dad got sick of the drama and had our two beds moved into the middle of the room. Next to each other. We each had a large cupboard for our clothes, but our clothes were identical. We each had toy chests, but our toys were identical. When we started school, Mum and the school decided it might be good for us to be in separate classes, to develop our own social groups. After a few weeks, the school suggested we get sent to specialists to test our hearing, or to test if there was something wrong with us. We had just shut down when we were apart.

  * * *

  I know him better than I know myself. Knew. Knew him. Past tense. After eighteen months, I still had no idea what happened. We finished our first year at university, and Mum and Dad dropped the bombshell that they were moving to London. Obviously, Gabe and I were going to get a place together. We didn’t even need to discuss it. We had the perfect summer together. Drinking, chilling at the beach, hanging with our friends. Mum and Dad bought us a townhouse in Glebe. Everything was perfect.

  * * *

  And then it wasn’t.

  * * *

  Gabe had been with Sam, one of our closest friends for the day, while I finished up going through the last room to see if we wanted anything else before the removalists came the next day. We had all our stuff packed. Gabe insisted on our stuff being all organised into different boxes for each room, his stuff separate to mine, which didn’t really make sense. But it turns out it made sense to him. As we finished up dinner, Gabe sat up straighter and squared his shoulders. It was his “I’m preparing to say something stance”, but for the first time ever, I wasn’t sure what he was going to say, so I paid close attention.

  “So I have been thinking over the summer. Mum and Dad moving to London is an opportunity for us to branch out and try new things.”

  I just waited for the rest. He was staring at the wall as he spoke, not looking at me or our parents.

  “Sam and I have decided to get a place together in Darlinghurst. We picked up the keys today. It’s a great little place. Only two bedrooms, but that’s all we need.” He paused for a moment to swallow, “With just the two of us.”

  Honestly, I don’t remember the rest of the night. I know Mum and Dad talked to him. I know they talked to me. But I have no idea what was said. All I know is the next day he was gone.

  * * *

  He moved out of my bedroom, my house and my life without another word.

  The first six months hurt. I was lonely and so confused. We saw each other almost every day at university, but I got more emotional conversation from the barista at Grind On Me than from my own brother. Obviously, I had done something wrong. He would answer my texts if I sent a direct question, but he wouldn’t answer the phone. At all.

  Gradually things thawed as we attended family gatherings when Mum and Dad were back in Sydney to finalise the sale of the house, or at friends get-togethers, but I still had no idea what I did wrong. I tried to ask. The first couple of times, he pretended to misunderstand me. More recently, he started to give me vague non-answers.

  * * *

  And today was more of the
same. He answered all my questions. No chitchat. And worst of all, he was polite.

  * * *

  The following Thursday, I glanced at my phone while leaving my last lecture for the day. I had a missed call from a private number. Delete. A missed call from Sam. And a text.

  * * *

  Call me

  * * *

  Then another one a few minutes later.

  * * *

  This is Sam, by the way

  * * *

  I clenched my jaw. Of course I knew it was Sam. We had all been friends since we were fourteen. Except for the past 18 months, since he and Gabe…

  * * *

  Oh shit! G!!!

  Why else would Sam contact me?

  * * *

  I fumbled with my phone and unlocked it, then hit dial.

  He answered before it even had a chance to ring.

  * * *

  “Which hospital?” I said before he had even said a word.

  * * *

  “Tom. Hi. I….”

  * * *

  “Which hospital?” I growled loudly. I knew.

  * * *

  “St.Vincents.”

  * * *

  “I’ll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes… Fuck… I need a taxi… Fuck.”

  * * *

  “Tom!” He practically yelled my name. “We are in the E.D. at the moment, but they are talking about moving him to the ICU as soon as possible, and then a mental health ward as soon as the doctor has cleared him.”

  * * *

  I stumbled. I slowed to a walk, knowing I couldn’t run anymore.

  “What?” I asked.

  * * *

  “Look, just get here. Text me when you arrive, and I will tell you where we are. Should I ring your parents?”

  * * *

  “No,” I said quickly. Then a thought occurred to me. “Sam… Is he… Is he… Do they need to be told?”

  Sam must have known what I was asking, “He’s alive, and he is sure as fucking shit going to stay that way. I know he is going to kill me when he is better for ringing you, but I don’t care.”

  * * *

  That felt like a punch in the stomach. “He hates me that much?” I whisper.

  * * *

  “No, no. That is the furthest thing from the truth. Get here and we will talk.”

  * * *

  The taxi ride took hours. At least, I was pretty sure it was hours.

  * * *

  A quick text to Sam told me that they were still in ED.

  * * *

  Once inside, I must have formed enough words to explain what I needed because I was directed to what they called the resus area. When I pushed the door open, I saw Sam talking to a doctor with a curtain drawn, blocking my view of the bed.

  Sam walked towards me with his arms open, but he hesitated and stepped back after one look at my face. I walked past the doctor trying to introduce herself. Then I saw him. His normally olive skin was pale and delicate-looking. His face was relaxed. He wasn’t moving. I reached for his hand, but pulled back. He’s not dead. He’s not dead, I chanted to myself. I needed to touch him. To be sure. But he didn’t want me to. Even unconscious, I knew he didn’t. My throat closed, the tight band around my chest constricted even further, and my legs gave way. Sam must have caught me because I was placed in a chair.

  “I can’t… breathe.” I forced the whisper out, struggling against the fear tightening around my chest. The doctor knelt in front of me, and I thought she was talking, but I couldn’t hear her.

  Sam grabbed my hand to keep it from clawing at my shirt, trying to loosen it so I could breathe. He grabbed it roughly and yanked me forward until he could place it on Gabe’s chest. His chest. I could feel his skin. He didn’t have a shirt on, but he had a million wires connected to his chest and arms, two different IVs running into his arms, a probe on his finger, and an oxygen tube in his mouth. But his skin. It was warm. It was so warm. And his chest was rising and falling. All by itself. A wave of warm relief flowed over me, and the rise and fall was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen or felt. After another moment treasuring this, I went to pull away, but Sam placed his hand on top of mine, holding it there.

  “He doesn’t… I don’t think… I don’t think he wants me here,” I sobbed quietly.

  * * *

  Sam shook his head. “He gave up the right to make any fucking choices for a while.”

  * * *

  I continued to sob quietly as I lay my head on his arm.

  * * *

  Sometime later, I was woken by the door opening again. I looked up to find the same doctor walk in and offer me a weak smile. “Mr. Carrington. Would you like to have a chat about your brother now?”

  * * *

  Barely a croak came out when I tried to answer. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Thomas. My name is Thomas. Or Tom, Tom is fine, um, sorry.” I cleared my throat again. “Sorry.”

  I looked back at Gabe, still asleep.

  “He’s still sleeping. He always slept later than …” I looked frantically at the doctor, then at Sam, leaning against the wall and back to the doctor. “He is sleeping, isn’t he?”

  The doctor nods. “He is. He took a lot of sleeping pills. Which isn’t a great idea, but the issue is the other stuff he took.”

  I heard Sam make a noise and glanced over to see him with a look of complete devastation on his face and his hand over his mouth. He was mumbling, and it took me a moment to realize he was mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.

  * * *

  “Why are you sorry?” I asked him in confusion and turned back to the doctor. “What happened?”

  * * *

  The doctor pulled up the other chair and sat down with me. She talked softly like I was a small child. “Gabriel was bought in today following an overdose. We are unsure if it was an intentional overdose, but we are assuming it was at this point.”

  Sam sobbed again, but I needed to focus on the doctor.

  “He took a large quantity of his benzodiazepines and a large amount of Endone, as well as alcohol.” The doctor paused to allow me a moment to digest that so far.

  But I couldn’t. “But he doesn’t have depression. He doesn’t take medication. He doesn’t take Endone.” It had to be a mistake.

  The doctor glanced at Sam. I followed her gaze.

  “Sam?”

  He shook his head and continued to apologise. Sam was my friend, and I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t right now. And he wasn’t answering.

  “Sam!”

  He dropped his hand from his face and looked pleadingly at the doctor.

  She turned back to me and continued. “From my understanding, Gabriel has been on anti-depressants for over a year, and it appears he may have done some GP shopping given the different ones he had, as well as several prescription sleeping pills.” She glanced once more at Sam, who nodded. “His boyfriend Sam, had…”

  I pushed up out of my seat and stepped towards Sam before I was even consciously aware I was moving.

  “No!” he exclaimed, lifting both hands in front of himself. “No! I’m not his boyfriend. No. We live together. But no, I’m not… I mean, I let the paramedics think that because I thought the hospital might not let me in if I was just a housemate. Not boyfriend. Tom. I swear to God. I swear to you.” I knew he was telling the truth. The thought of Gabe being with Sam like that….

  I glared at Sam once more, then sat back down.

  The doctor hesitated this time, and Sam continued. “I had Endone after I crashed my bike in March. I had gotten a new larger script filled before I went to Dubbo for that placement, but I didn’t use much, and it’s just been sitting in the bathroom. I didn’t even think of it. Even after last time. I didn’t even think of it. I’m so sorry, Tom.”

  “Last time?”

  His eyes widened for a moment. And then he looked out the window and sighed. “Christmas Day. After he came home. He overdosed on his sleepin
g pills. But he said it was just an accident. And the doctor said he was fine to keep taking them, so it can’t have been that bad.”

  The doctor shook her head. “There is no way a doctor continued to prescribe those same tablets after that. From what I have pieced together, it sounds like Gabriel has gotten very good at lying to both his doctors and his family and friends. At the moment, let’s focus on what is happening today, and then we can look further down the road.”

  I nodded, absolutely exhausted.

  The doctor detailed the treatments he had received. The paramedics gave him naloxone to reverse the effects of the Endone, as he wasn’t breathing when they arrived. She explained that Endone is an opioid painkiller, so it was like overdosing on heroin. The ECGs were keeping an eye on his heart. And ongoing tests were to check for liver damage. But the main concern until he woke up was a toxic brain injury. They didn’t know how long his brain had been without oxygen so until he woke up they couldn’t rule out damage. I chose to put that in a box in my brain and not open it unless I was forced to. He was alive and that was what I chose to concentrate on.