Rhapsody on a Theme by Matthew J. Metzger Read Free Book Online Page A

up,” Darren said dryly.
    “Getting doped up again?”
    “I hope not,” Darren said sourly, and Jayden patted the bed beside him invitingly, flicking the TV off entirely with the remote. “I gotta go, Paul. Wife’s calling.”
    “Shut your face. Bye Paul,” Jayden added, and Darren tossed the phone back onto the side table as he crawled up the mattress and let Jayden bury him in a hug. “It’ll be fine tomorrow,” Jayden murmured into that damp hair, and kissed his temple.
    “Mm. You still coming?”
    “Course I’m coming,” Jayden said, pinching a bare shoulder, and Darren wriggled under the duvet with him, shockingly warm. Best part of sleeping with him, in Jayden’s wholly experienced opinion. “Love you, you know.”
    “Yeah, I figured.”
    Jayden rolled his eyes.
    “Would you love me if I looked like the back of a bus?” Darren asked after a minute.
    Jayden dared. “Who says you don’t?”
    He regretted it, when Darren shoved a pillow over his face, and he didn’t, when he surfaced again to that exasperated, gorgeous smile.
    * * * *
    The doctors’ surgery was smaller than the one near Darren’s old flat, and cosy in a kind of old-carpet-and-antique-furniture way. None of the waiting room chairs matched. The typical part of doctors’ surgeries was almost startling against the old care-home-esque décor: the electronic board that summoned the patients was almost oppressive, and the fat receptionist in her white uniform out of place.
    Jayden slid his hand into Darren’s, and the board flashed. Mr. Darren T. Peace to Dr. Zielinski, Room 3. “Want me to come?” he asked quietly.
    “Yeah.”
    Darren was understandably quiet. He’d seen two different GPs at the Southampton surgery. One had pointed him in the direction of a counselling service that he would have had to pay for, and ignored him when he refused to do so; the other had immediately put him on heavy antidepressants that had done more damage than good, and into a counselling programme that had actively upset him; Jayden had been summoned in the middle of the night from Bristol by a worried Rachel after Darren had locked himself in his room for nearly thirty hours. (Thankfully, Darren had done it to prevent himself doing anything stupid, but the antidepressants had been binned.) It had been horrendous, and hadn’t helped at all, and Darren had been reeling for weeks afterwards trying to stabilise and recover a bit. He had been upset, clingy, and kind of in shock. It had been horrible .
    So Jayden didn’t argue and simply let himself be taken into the consultation room by the hand.
    “Good morning.” The doctor smiled genially. “I’m sorry for the wait; we had a bit of an incident earlier. I’m Dr. Zielinski; which one of you is Darren?”
    Dr. Zielinski was a very tall, thin man of maybe fifty or fifty-five, with thin glasses on the end of a thin nose. He had a thin beard, thin, greying hair, and long, thin fingers steepled on his knee. Although he was smiling, he was also inscrutable.
    “Me,” Darren said shortly.
    “Well, I would say it’s nice to meet you, but it’s never nice to visit the doctor, is it? How can I help, Darren?”
    Darren worked his jaw. He still hated this part, and Jayden squeezed his fingers. “He’s depressed,” he supplied gently. “And we want to, you know, do something about it but his last two doctors were…not great.”
    “Crap,” Darren translated.
    “And you are?”
    “Jayden Phillips. I’m his boyfriend.”
    “And are you a long-term partner, Jayden?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.” The doctor brought up a file on his computer screen. Jayden began to feel a little less wary. The previous doctor hadn’t liked him being in the room for these talks, although Jayden had never worked out whether she’d been homophobic or whether she’d swallowed the handbook on patient confidentiality. She’d cited it often enough. “Darren, do I have your permission to discuss your medical details