frowny x freckly // deeply troubled flannel x the sun's sweet sugar // wreo

It was a paltry few words uttered by Buzz in his final moments that triggered the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his chest, pulsing and blocking up his throat like phlegm during a bad chest cold, threatening to make him gag. He felt the sudden urge to leave, like the possibility of escape was narrowing by the second. The horrible script, the ham-fisted critique of socialism, and the over-use of the phrase ‘hive mind’ stirred up memories Theo had until then thought he’d purged from his mind. Theo bent over to reach for his drink. To his dismay, he found that he’d finished it. Instead, he grasped Wren’s hand, pulling it over to rest in his lap, holding it tightly.

“I wasn’t made for this,” Buzz continued from onstage, “I was made for something more! I was made to love, to create! My binds – love, life and liberty - are holding me back.” Buzz wailed. The actor fell to his knees, screwing his face up in histrionic anguish as he reached out, hands fisted.

“And with this,” - A horrid, guttural moan wrenched forth from Buzz -“I break free!”

A chill spread throughout Theo’s body.

I love you. You’re my world. I’d be happy living in a shack in Virginia, or a cabin in the woods, if it means being with you. I’d marry you now if I could.

Your family are literally abusive to you, Theo. Seriously, you need to stop talking to them. They’re not good for you. They’re not good for us.

All my friends are right, Theo! You’re manipulative and paranoid. I can’t think of anyone else who’d stick around you for this long with the shit you make me put up with. I must be a masochist. I love you, but fuck, do you make it hard sometimes. It really fucking makes me sad when I think back to when we first met. How I would have killed for you.  

Buzz collapsed, and Theo suddenly found it hard to breathe. The curtains dragged over his unmoving body, where someone from behind the curtain seemed to drag Buzz’s prone form beneath the folds of the curtain and backstage. Suddenly the theatre erupted in raucous applause, thunder claps of noise boiling through the crowd like a swarm of locusts. When Wren slid his hand away from his to unenthusiastically join in, Theo noticed his palms were clammy. He uncurled his fingers and felt blindly for his cane, gripping the smooth, cool handle, the wood reassuringly solid against his fingers. As the actors came out in a disorienting swirl of reds and golds, threatening to make him sick as they joined hands and flourished in unison, Theo screwed his eyes shut.

Unbidden, he was pulled back to the last time he’d heard Ben’s voice.

“Look, Theo. I wasn’t made for this.” He’d held his hand as he said it, as they sat there in the hospital room, Theo about to be discharged after a much longer than anticipated stay. Ben had forgotten he couldn’t feel anything in his extremities, despite sitting with him when the neurologist explained the long road to recovery he was facing just an hour or so before. He knew now if it had nothing to do with him, Ben wasn’t likely to listen. But it hadn’t lessened the blow.

“I need something more … I feel like…  I’m being held back. And if I feel like that, I can’t be the boyfriend you need. Right?” In a way, Ben had timed the breakup perfectly. Theo had been too exhausted to feel more than a numbing acceptance, and had been too embarrassed to utter more than a few words, since his tongue was numb and his words kept on coming out jumbled. Ben had already arranged with Lisa that Theo would go back to Connecticut, where there were more people around to help with his recovery. More people to care for him. Theo just hadn’t expected an hour long commute to be the final axe to their five years long relationship.

His mom had picked up his stuff from their shared apartment, by now used to cleaning up her son’s messes. That in itself was a small win, as Ben couldn’t stand Lisa. But it would be his last. The breakup had been hard, and had offered none of the closure he’d so desperately needed. His phone calls had gone unanswered, his texts ignored, until a picture of Ben and another man had appeared on his Instagram feed only two weeks later.

The thought that that moment of closure might be coming was almost too much to bare.

 He wasn’t aware he’d shut his eyes until he heard the familiar tilt of Ben’s voice from the stage. It didn’t come as a surprise that he’d written the damn thing. He’d sat through hours of Ben’s work before, and no part of Honey! was particularly ground-breaking: the offensive characterization of Three-Zero, the martyring of Buzz, and the clumsy, prosy nature of the screenplay all had that distinct Ben Sherman flavour to it. Ben was the main character in his own life, and all his work had been incredibly personal. This was no different.

However, Theo still surprised himself as he watched Ben saunter about the stage. After all the shit Ben had put him through, after all the pain and anguish, he felt a familiar, unwanted fondness creeping back that he thought had been long extinguished. He was endeared by the way he addressed the crowd with what Theo knew to be an entirely performed pantomime. The familiar way he flicked the hair out of his eyes or push his glasses up the narrow bridge of his nose conjuring up memories and feelings he thought he’d long abandoned. How he still buzzed with a nervous, misdirected energy, the way he spoke with his hands and was a flurry of movement. He was arrested by the way he worked the crowd by playacting modesty, with Theo (almost fondly) recalling the way Ben could slip in and out of character. 

Buzz walked up to him, and Ben wrapped an arm around the waist of the actor’s bee costume. His fingers curled in against his waist, holding him close.

Theo remembered how that felt.

“—I couldn’t be more proud to announce my engagement to this wonderful, talented man. He’s been my best friend, my biggest supporter all those late nights I spent doubting myself, and, perhaps this is corny, but my muse for Honey! I hope you’ll all join us for a toast at Industry later tonight!” More applause followed, as Theo was forced to watch his ex-boyfriend of five years - the reason behind his months of sleepless nights, his countless hours spent crying, his move to Oregon, his frequent decisions to date men he cared nothing about - passionately exchange saliva with his new fiancé while a crowd of people applauded and cheered. The moment felt like it lasted forever, frozen in time, until the two of them walked off stage.   

A movement by his side pulled his attention away from the stage. Theo blinked, staring at Wren like he didn’t recognize him. It passed after a moment, and he could feel his features soften as Wren’s concerned face came into focus. He closed his eyes at his gentle touch, trying desperately to ground himself, wrapping his fingers tighter around Wren’s and leaning into his hand. He was so happy he was here.

“I … No.” Theo began, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes. He knew he would understand. “I think I want to --” 

But he didn’t get to finish. Scotty appeared on the stage, backlit impressively and posing like a super hero in velvet. He smoothly jumped down and Wren stood to meet him, Theo giving his hand a final squeeze as he was pulled into his best friend’s embrace. He watched the reunion, noticing now the funny way Wren gave out hugs (shoulders stooped, waist bent) and realizing he had nothing to compare it to. He tried to remember that this wasn’t about him. He could hold it together for a few hours, and avoiding Ben should be easy enough. They were both adults, and it was big enough bar.

He tried to reset. Plaster a smile on his face. Pretend like everything was okay.

Theo grasped his cane in one hand and Wren’s in the other, hauling himself up a little unsteadily. He waved aside Scotty’s handshake and came in for a one armed hug, pulling him tightly against him and smiling as they separated, agreeing that it was nice to finally meet him too. He smelled even better than his dad.

He scoffed in mock belief at Scotty’s admission, grinning up at Wren and wrapping an arm around his waist. “He’s secretly a big softie. You should just ask him nicely next time. It’s amazing what you can get him to do just by saying please.”

He laughed loudly as Scotty mentioned they must be traumatized. Perhaps he’d found it too funny – maybe he was drunk.

And then Scotty asked if they were coming to the after-party. He glanced at Wren, internally begging him to say no. He didn’t want to. But when Wren turned to him, putting the onus on himself to say no, Theo smiled. “Sure, why not.”

And they turned to leave. While Scotty and Wren said their goodbyes to Mr. De Villiers, Theo glanced over his shoulder at the stage for one last look. He shouldn’t have. He should have just left well enough alone. But just as he thought he was safe he made eye contact with Ben, who must have come back out on stage to help clear up, and Theo swore his heart stopped mid-beat. For a horrible moment he thought he might stop to speak to him, but Ben just smiled that infuriating, superior smirk he did, and then walked off backstage.

His nausea only got worse with the car ride.  

The trip down the narrow steps had gone just as gracefully as Theo had expected. Wren had taken one of his hands and was holding it in a death grip as Theo navigated each step with all the care but none of the precision of a surgeon. He thought maybe he was drunk, or was at least on the way there, since the stairs seemed particularly uncooperative. Scotty hadn’t known what to do, so he spent the full five minutes it took regaling them with tales of the drama backstage. The arguments and loud, public screaming matches. The table readings that turned into all night cocaine and alcohol binges. By the time they’d made it to the ground floor, he felt well and truly nauseous. He leaned against Wren heavily, gripping onto his arm as they pushed through a crowd of smokers loitering out by the front entrance. He felt his heart claw its way further and further up his throat with every step they took.

Wren helped him into the car, coming around the other side to slide in next to him. Theo took Wren’s hand, sliding his fingers against his and resting them against the inside of his thigh. Scotty’s stories regarding the director began once they were comfortable, and oh, if Theo hadn’t known the play had been directed by Ben before, he certainly would have known by now. It was all so, so Ben. The temper tantrums, his smarminess. His gossiping had lead the original Buzz into quitting the play halfway through. The replacement Buzz had been his current boyfriend and Scotty’s cousin, despite there being an understudy who already knew the lines by heart. He changed lines on a whim, he cut characters and added new ones based on how he was feeling that day. He’d been a terror from day one.

“Typical of Ben Sherman to steal the spotlight just to propose to his boyfriend of six months,” moaned Scotty, from the front seat. Earl chuckled. Theo snorted, a bit too loudly. After a silence, Theo could feel Wren staring at him quizzically.

“Oh – you know. Ben… He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

A shocked silence.

“Are you serious?” Demanded Scotty. He turned around in his seat, clutching the headrest. “Like, are you one hundred per cent fucking serious?”

Theo nodded uncertainly. “We dated for a few years,” he finally admitted. Had he crossed a line? This was Wren’s best friend after all, who must figure that anybody who’d dated Ben Sherman for any length of time must be a piece of shit. He glanced up at Wren, whose expression was unreadable. Theo squeezed his hand, wishing he would say something.

Scotty beat him to it.

“Oh, Theo. My sweet, sweet Theo.” Scotty rested a hand on his knee, squeezing gently. “I am so sorry. What a complete and utter waste of your twenties.”

And with that, Theo laughed. It bubbled up in his chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut tight as he let his mirth pull him out of his anxiety and dread. And once it started, he couldn’t stop it. It felt like the first time someone had actually sympathised with him. And while Scotty had never dated Ben, he knew the kind of intimacy that came about when putting on a play together. It just felt good, and he realized now how alone he’d been all those years they’d been together. Scotty took his laughter as a sign that Theo was a receptive audience to his Ben-shaming, and continued thusly. 

“How did you put up with him without strangling him and framing Poppy for the crime? The two of them together, good Lord. It’s like watching Johnny Depp and Winona Ryder date in the 90s, but more obnoxious. I’m pretty sure she carries a lock of his hair around with her in her purse.”

He felt breathless as he laughed some more, sitting in the backseat of Earl’s town car. Theo leaned into Wren, resting his head on his shoulder and squeezing his arm.

“If you thought his screenplay was bad, you should try his poetry.”

He’d been to Industry before, perhaps five or so years ago. From what he remembered, it was a pretty typical Manhattan gay bar, with plenty of bad music and lots of thirsty, sweaty patrons. He’d never been in the VIP room however, and was looking forward to at least not have to worry about being trampled on the dance floor. He felt distinctly out of place, however, overdressed and leaning on his cane. Poppy was in line a few people ahead of them, where her fur coat had slipped down to reveal a tight black dress and bare shoulders. She kept glancing back at him, turning to her friends and laughing. He’d forgotten how self-conscious New York made him feel.

Their small group was forced to wait on the sidewalk while the bouncer fetched the person with the clipboard. Scotty was pulled away into another conversation, and he stood with Wren in silence, save for the thumping of EDM pounding the inside of the club. He moved to touch his hand, before intertwining their fingers.

“Wren?” Theo started, and then stopped short. He’d been largely silent since Earl had dropped them off in front of the club, and Theo was worried he was upset. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Ben. He was my boyfriend for … Five years, I guess.” He winced. It seemed like an awfully big omission.  “It’s just, he dumped me at a really hard time in my life, and it was … Such a bad breakup. I don’t really like thinking about it.”

“We ended things two years ago, so it’s definitely, totally over. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about him earlier.” He sighed, then dropped his voice, glancing over his shoulder suspiciously. “I had no idea he was the director, and now all his friends are here who all still totally hate me, and it’s just … So shitty. I’m so glad you and Scotty are here." Theo smiled, squeezing his hand and leaning up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "Mostly you."

Despite Theo assenting to go to the after-party, Wren couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He seemed unsteadier than usual, a little shakier, in a way that couldn’t be wholly attributed to alcohol. As they navigated the stairs, Wren taking them backwards, holding Theo’s hand, he watched his face, only half-listening to Scotty. He looked pale, like he was going to be sick, but determined, and when they got to the bottom of the narrow staircase, Wren wrapped an arm around him, tugging him close as they fought through the crowd of smokers milling around the exit.

Later, he would wonder why he didn’t just ask to be taken home. But it didn’t feel like an option as he climbed into the car, or when Theo took his hand, or when Scotty launched into a story about how the director tried to get him to redesign the worker bees’ outfits to make them look more like literal bees, and he decided to just make the most of it. At the very least Scotty’s stories made him appreciate the fact he’d only had to sit through the play. Being involved in the actual production sounded like hell. He was grateful that he’d spent those six weeks in Cannon Beach, by the sea, getting to know Theo instead of having to work with someone who frankly sounded like a narcissistic lunatic. Who the fuck proposed in front of an audience, on stage? And after only six months? Who could have put up with this guy for six whole months?

Theo made a noise. Something about it was wrong. Out of place. Wren glanced at him, and a moment later, almost wished he hadn’t.

It felt like the carpet being yanked out from under his feet, but he shouldn’t have been taken by surprise. It wasn’t that he hadn’t known Theo had had other boyfriends. They’d met while he was in a relationship. He’d mentioned other men before. The rower from high school. The one who’d broken up with him suddenly. The bad poet. He just hadn’t realised some of them had been the same person. He hadn’t known Theo had been with that person for years.

And to find out that person was apparently a narcissistic lunatic, one that Scotty knew, at that… it was difficult to wrap his head around. Watching Theo now, laughing too hard at something which wasn’t really all that funny, Wren had a hard time picturing him in a relationship with the scrawny man he’d seen on stage, especially now he’d heard all these anecdotes of his behaviour backstage. His Theo, the one sitting next to him, leaning into him and laughing at a joke he didn’t understand, would never have put up with it. So what had Ben done to him?

Wren didn’t realise how tired he was until they were standing on the pavement outside Industry, huddled together as they waited to be let inside. He was a little cold, even with his jacket, and the pounding bass penetrating the walls didn’t help. When he checked his phone, he was surprised to see it was only just past eleven. Between the flight and the play and Scotty’s chattering, he felt as though he’d been up for days. And that was before factoring in Theo’s bombshell.

He’d spent the rest of the car ride letting Theo and Scotty talk between them while he tried to sort out his thoughts. It turned out they had a few acquaintances in common, not just Ben, and Scotty had expressed surprise that they hadn’t met each other earlier since it seemed like they’d run in adjacent, if not identical, circles while at college. Wren wondered if they’d ever dated any of the same people, then decided he’d rather not know. While he was glad they were getting along, it was hard not to feel like an outsider, listening to them.

Then again, he was grateful for the reprieve. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway.

So when Theo reached for his hand and said his name, he was maybe a little lost, and maybe it showed on his face. But as Theo started talking, Wren couldn’t help but soften. It turned out he’d been focused on the wrong thing.

“You don’t need to say sorry,” he said, squeezing his hand gently. “I’m the one who should be sorry. You’re here because of me.”

Slinging his arm around Theo’s shoulders, he drew him into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before releasing him. “You know,” he started, “we can still—”

Scotty grabbed his shoulder, cutting him off. “Come on,” he said. “Door’s open!”

Before he could protest, he was being yanked inside. It was all he could do to reach for Theo’s hand before he lost him in the crowd.

Wren had been to Industry a few times before, usually unwillingly, but never to the VIP room, which was actually not too bad—way less packed than the dancefloor, with music at a reasonable volume, although the floor was sticky and the lighting was so dim he could barely see a foot in front of his face. Scotty led them to a round booth, the one furthest from the bar, which Wren suspected was for his benefit, before insisting on getting the first round. Wren got into the booth first, shuffling along the seat until there was room for Theo, whom he slung an arm around as soon as he was settled.

The room was filling up, and from his seat he had a pretty good view of the bar. He couldn’t see Ben, which was probably good, but he could see Poppy throwing glances at them, and he shot her a glare. He wasn’t sure who else he should be looking out for, but nobody else seemed to be acting weird, so he decided to just focus on Theo for now. He looked pale again, and Wren squeezed his arm before leaning over to whisper in his ear.

“Half an hour,” he promised. “Let’s just finish our drinks then go.”

Two hours later, they were still there. Wren wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he was surprisingly OK with it. The night wasn’t turning out to be as bad as he’d feared. From the stories Scotty and Theo had been telling about Ben, he’d been expecting an evening of trying to dodge malicious friends of Theo’s ex, there to cause trouble, but apart from a few looks from people passing by, nothing like that had happened. Instead, there was a drag show, and free-flowing drinks. Even Ben himself seemed to be keeping his distance.

So as Theo seemed to relax, so did he, and after a while he found he was enjoying himself, cuddled up next to his boyfriend while Scotty amassed a small collection of people. There was Dan, a tanned, fit guy who had tagged along with Scotty when he’d come back bearing the first round of drinks. Scotty introduced him as a ‘friend’, and he turned out to be a physiotherapist who also thought the play had been awful. As Dan finished up a funny story about one of his patients (they had insisted on bringing their badly-behaved chihuahua into their last session), Scotty had waved over another person, who Wren recognised though he wasn’t sure from where. His name was Bo, and it turned out he’d been the actor to play Three-Zero, and he was as horrified with the production as Scotty had been. When Wren asked him how they’d pulled off the missing leg effect, he’d tugged up the hem of his trousers to reveal a prosthetic, but he was nice enough to wave off Wren’s apology, even as Wren turned red.

He did feel Theo tense up next to him at one point, though, when a pair of men approached the table. He could tell that Theo recognised them and he readied himself for the worst, but it turned out to be okay—they were there to make amends, and after the initial awkward conversation, they joined them too. Their names were Adrian—Theo’s friend—and Lionel—his boyfriend. Lionel was a tax accountant and seemed relieved to have somebody to talk to, and soon they were engrossed in a conversation about Hilary’s ideas for tax reform.

It was understandable, maybe, that by the time Wren offered to get the next round in, he had let his guard down. As he excused himself from the table, giving Theo a quick kiss before he went, he had no idea that he was about to spring a trap.

For the one hundredth time possibly that evening alone, Theo was reminded how lucky he was to be Wren’s boyfriend.

Failing to mention a five year long relationship felt like a pretty big deal breaker, and he would have been lying if he’d said it had just never come up. If pressed, Theo might admit he’d bent over backwards to avoid mentioning him by name. Skewing conversations to avoid mentioning who he’d been with when such and such funny story had happened. Who he’d seen that movie with. Who he’d gone to his sister’s wedding with.

So, Theo was appropriately anxious as he waited for Wren’s reply. He was making that face he did when he was thinking: chin tilted upwards, brow furrowed, eyes faraway and distant. It was charming when Wren was trying to figure out what to order for dinner, or leaning over a Sudoku puzzle torn out from the newspaper. Not so much now.

Theo looked away, expecting the worst.

And then Wren was wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and pulling him in for a hug. Theo pressed his face into his chest, sinking into the familiar, reassuring weight of his arms, breathing in his calming scent. The distant smell of his aftershave. He recalled the first lonely night in Portland, the Monday after the weekend they’d met. How he’d shoved his face into that old yellow sweater he’d swiped, and inhaled his scent, just like he was doing now. He’d just wanted someone to talk to. So he’d called up Lisa, hoping to catch her between finishing up at the office and heading home.

She’d picked up on the second ring.

“I was just wondering to myself, when oh when is that son of mine going to call me to gush about this new boy of his?”

And Theo laughed, suddenly overwhelmingly grateful she had picked up.

“Right now, if you’re lucky. I really like him. He’s … A really good guy. I can’t explain it without sounding corny.”

“That’s great, Teddy. I’m so pleased for you.” She’d responded. But it had been something in her voice, a long breath between sentences, that made him think she was worried.

“You’re not sure if he can handle it.” He’d said, predicting what was worrying her.

“I just remember how upset Ben made you.”

And he’d paused, at that, and thought of what he’d already put Wren through. Michael punching him in the face, and then his own abrupt departure the next day because of a stupid emergency at work. And then he thought of how comfortable Wren already was with him, how he’d quickly learnt to help him with the stairs, with the buttons of his shirt. His near constant fatigue. The way his hands shook when he reached out to pick something up. But she didn’t know his disability had progressed to the point of visibility. And none of these were things he was ready to make her aware of.

“He’s better than Ben. Trust me.”

In the present, standing outside on a sidewalk in Manhattan, Theo had wrapped his free arm around his waist. And as they stood there, in line for the club this chilly September night, he closed his eyes, rolling the apology around in his head. Wren was sorry. He was sorry for upsetting him, through actions he could not possibly have imagined would lead to Theo being upset. The sentiment confounded him, but was soothing nonetheless. When he felt him pull away, arms leaving his shoulders and his lips pressing against his forehead, Theo blinked slowly and then smiled gratefully at him, for the first time unable to put his feelings into words beyond a fervently prayed mantra of I love you, that he hoped Wren could hear.

Just as sweet escape seemed so near, so within their grasp, Scotty had grabbed Wren’s arm and began dragging him into the club. Like a monkey chain, Theo stumbled after them, squeezing in through the door and into the suffocating madness of Industry.

Theo felt the room close in on him almost immediately. Stepping through the door invited every aspect of the club to crowd his senses: the undulating swell of the bodies pressed against him, the pounding of the music thudding his eardrums in an overwhelming stew of electronic drum machine and auto tuned vocals.  It smelled of sweat, stale beer, and the acrid burn of fog machine smoke. Every nudge from a stray arm, or a foot knocking against his, sent him into a miniscule spiral of panic, and a stray thought that he was small and insignificant caught at the edges of his consciousness. What if he fell? What if someone pushed him over? Wren’s hand gripping his was his anchor in the raging ocean, and his tall, very handsome boyfriend seemed to part the waves of variously undressed men like Moses parting the Red Sea. He didn’t miss the lingering glances he attracted, despite Wren seeming completely oblivious to the attention, wrapping an arm around Theo’s shoulders and bending down to ask Theo if needed to stop by coat check. Before it was too late, Theo checked his jacket because he was terrified of it getting stained, and then his cane, rationalizing that it would be easier to manage the crowd with two hands free. He gave his coat check ticket to Wren, since the pockets of his slacks had been sewn shut. And then he felt Wren scoop an arm around his waist, and Theo let him lead them to their booth.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t terrified of running into Ben. He was, but he was equally just as determined to have a good time. And with Wren’s arm slung around his shoulders, it was easy to pretend. Until it no longer felt like it was pretending.

Scotty got the first round, and Theo asked for his usual. The medicinal taste of the tonic was usually enough to make him drink it slowly, and the acidity from the lime enough to get him to pause between sips. But Poppy had settled down in a booth across the bar from them, and he could see her shooting glances at their group. Her smile had long slipped from her face, and now she was talking with people Theo hadn’t thought about in months. Charlie, Jake, Melissa and Shaun.

He didn’t know how to explain to Wren that the way he was now, wasn’t how he’d always been.

He didn’t quite know what he meant, by that.

Before he knew what had happened, his first drink was gone.

Theo thought that maybe it was time to leave, just like they’d agreed. But the opportunity came and then somehow went. Dan, Scotty’s ‘friend’, had shown up with a tray of rum and cokes, lime wedges precariously mounted on the rims. So Theo had taken one and took a generous drink before setting it down on the table. The music seemed to fall away and he laughed at Dan’s stories about his clients. His face was warm and he asked a passing waitress for a straw since his hands had started doing that thing they did when he drank, and he was nestling into Wren’s shoulder and shutting his eyes tight as he laughed until he was breathless at Scotty and Dan’s bickering over how that one story was to be properly told.

Because truthfully, he was focused on Wren. He was so, so very handsome when he blushed, when he laughed at Scotty’s antics, when he caught him glancing at him with nothing but affection. Theo had draped his arm around his neck, pulling his face in for a smattering of kisses when he felt like the conversation warranted it. Their table was loud with raucous laughter and lively conversation, drowning out the din of the music with the sounds of friends having a good time. And for the first time in years Theo actually felt his age. He felt like someone enjoying their late twenties, not cooped up in a hospital or in bed, too tired to even search for the remote hidden somewhere in the folds of blankets. He felt alive, he felt happy. His face hurt from laughing too much, from the story about the Chihuahua, to Wren fumbling his question to Bo. He even asked Wren if he wanted to dance, and his hastily changing the subject had Theo leaning up to kiss him.

He was having fun.

He must have told Wren so, because at some point he’d become aware of the fact that Wren too had relaxed. He’d noticed he’d been peering over Scotty’s head, staring at the bar, and Theo liked to imagine it was because he was on the lookout for anyone who might want to cause problems. This thought was confirmed when Adrian, one of Ben’s friends he hadn’t spoken to since the breakup, approached their table, and he felt Wren tense up beside him. The relaxed atmosphere on hold, Adrian asked to join them, along with his boyfriend whom Theo had never met before.

It never occurred to him that he was there to apologize. And apologize he did, for taking Ben’s side in the breakup, for freezing him out along with the rest of Ben’s group of friends. For not reaching out sooner. Theo was too surprised to respond with anything else but graciousness, and he felt his suspiciousness abate when Adrian asked him how Portland had been treating him. Adrian himself was a curator at the Museum of Natural History, which Theo recalled being his dream job. Wren and Lionel seemed engrossed in their conversation about something boring (after the third time Theo heard Wren say tax shelter, he’d tuned out of the conversation). And time once again seemed to slip by.

Theo only realized how drunk he was after he’d pulled up a fifth picture of Violet to show the table. Lionel was the only one paying attention, with Scotty and Dan were talking in low tones across the table, and Wren had excused himself to grab another round of drinks. Theo glanced at his watch, noticing with a shock how late it was.

“Holy shit, it’s one in the morning.” Theo exclaimed, to nobody in particular. Scotty glanced at him, before directing his attention back to Dan, suggesting to him that it was indeed late and that he ought to get him home. Dan laughed and leaned in to kiss him, prompting Theo to look away, his gaze landing at Wren standing at the bar. He was speaking with someone, and Theo frowned, leaning in his seat to get a better view.

His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, when he caught sight of Poppy. She was leaning against the bar, her upper body draped over the countertop, her hand skittering up Wren’s arm flirtatiously. Alarmed, Theo excused himself, dragging himself out of the booth. He did not want her speaking to him. Nothing good could come from allowing it to happen. She was poison.   

Walking was hard. The floor didn’t seem to be level, and his shoes felt like they were tied on wrong. He wondered if he could complain to management about how having an unlevelled floor was a hazard.  He wished he had his cane, though if he was honest with himself he didn’t know what use it would be. He hadn’t been this drunk in a very long time, and he’d forgotten what it did to his hands, the way they shook and made his fingertips numb. If he made it to Wren and got Poppy to fuck off and stop bothering his boyfriend, Wren could help him back to his seat. Or maybe home. The thought was comforting, and propelled him onwards.

There was a hand on his arm, and suddenly he was being pulled against someone’s body. Theo stumbled, and fell into a body. Arms circled around his shoulders and squeezed him tight, and Theo was engulfed by a familiar, nauseating, comforting scent. He couldn’t breathe. He felt the world fall away as he was pressed into Ben’s chest. Before something snapped.

Theo’s hands came up between them to push him away, and he felt Ben’s hold on him break. Stepping back, he felt the breath rise in his chest, where it gathered in his throat like a hot coal.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Theo snapped. He’d said it without thinking. He’d said it without meaning to. Ben looked hurt, but for the first time he noticed how flimsy his expressions were. How there was no substance there. How there was nothing in his eyes.

“I just wanted to say hi. It’s been so long.” Ben said. His hair was longer, the lines in his face deeper. Up close, Theo noticed he had faint scribbles of tattoos creeping over his forearms and knuckles. He wondered what shitty Brooklyn apartment he’d gotten them done in. “I was calling your name – did you not hear me?”

“Hi. There. Is that it? Is that all you want?” The responded, crossing his arms over his chest. An infuriating shadow of a smile played over Ben’s lips then, and Theo felt his eyes drift up and down his body, taking him in. Logging the things that had changed since they’d last seen each other, two years ago. He felt like he was being sized up, and Theo shifted uncomfortably, glancing back over at the bar. Looking for Wren.

“Well, how did you like my play?” Ben finally asked.

Theo snapped his attention back to Ben and laughed then, a bitter, vitriolic sound that surprised even him.

“Honestly, Ben? I didn’t think it was very good at all.” Theo responded, taking a small amount of pleasure in the way his smile seemed to dim. But true to form, he was quick with a comeback.

“Well, you inspired some of it. So I wouldn’t be so harsh with the criticism, if I were you.”

“No shit.” Theo replied. This all felt so familiar, the trading of barbs and insults. The shitty way Ben made him feel. He refused to let him. “I happened to pick up on that, despite the ham-fisted nuance of your writing. Which one was I? The one everyone moaned about being a drain on society? Fuck, Ben, it was like Animal Farm as interpreted by a high school drama club. I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for those Tony nominations to come rolling in if I were you.”

But he wasn’t done. He felt the heat rising in his cheeks, his fingers twitching as they curled into a fist. “So, how long have you been fucking the lead? Oh, I’m sorry. Your fiancée. How long have you been fucking your fiancée? He seems perfect for you – a good looking idiot who thinks the sun shines out of your asshole.”

Ben was staring at him, now. His grip tightening around his drink and Theo smirked victoriously.

“Before we broke up.”

Theo stared at hm, as the words sunk in.

“You know, I never wanted to tell you,” Ben continued, “but you’re asking me now. So.”

He felt the floor fall away.

“So how long ago … When did it start? Is he why you broke up with me?” Theo demanded, because he was a masochist. 

“I broke up with you because you stopped loving me.” Ben replied, shrugging listlessly. Theo knew better. Theo saw the way he gripped his drink, he saw the way he shifted his glasses down the bridge of his nose, where the frames hid his eyes. He was lying.

“Bullshit,” Theo snapped. “I fucking loved you so much it hurt. I thought we were going to get mar—”

“You stopped coming to my shows. You were always busy. You stopped laughing at my jokes. You made me feel like an idiot in front of our friends.”

“That’s bullshit!” Theo shouted. The strobing lights from the dance floor were disorienting, leaving burning imprints in his eyes. “You --"

“Theo --”

“--You broke up with me because you saw me when I was in the hospital, when I was all fucked up and you realized you couldn’t put me down anymore. You dumped me because you couldn’t treat a cripple like you’d been treating me for so many years – you couldn’t use his nudes in your art shows without asking, or make fun of him to your friends, or treat me like shit anymore. Because then everyone would know you for the predator you are, you fucking -- I told you not to fucking touch me!”

Ben had stepped forward to grab Theo’s arm, which he violently jerked away. The movement caused him to lose his balance, and he stumbled backwards, arms jerking out to catch hold of something – anything. He fell into something solid, a pair of familiar hands holding him up by the biceps. With a gentle lift he was standing, and he stared up into Wren’s concerned face. He felt his anger disappear, and Theo squeezed his eyes shut, stepping into his embrace. People were staring. He felt Scotty and Dan’s eyes on him, and he wanted to disappear.

“Can you get me out of here.” Theo whispered. He felt tears prick at his eyes, and Wren’s arm circling his lower back, holding him by the waist.

“Please,” He begged.

He didn’t know where Wren led him. But suddenly they were pushing through a pair of emergency exit doors and it was quiet and cold, the night air pickling at his cheeks. He was guided to a leather chair surrounded by kerosene fuelled tiki torches, and with Wren’s help he sat down. The Manhattan skyline surrounded them, the din of traffic echoed from below. The lights from windows blurred when he moved his head. And when Theo looked up into the sky, he couldn’t see any stars.

But at least it was quiet. And he hadn’t started crying.

Wren had procured a water bottle from somewhere, which he handed to him. Theo hung his head, staring at the ground and trying to get his heartbeat under control. He could feel Wren’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bear to look up to face him. From his periphery, Theo saw him move, and he expected the worst. Until he felt Wren drape something warm over his shoulders. Theo ran his hand over it, and felt the lapel to his jacket between his fingers.

“I’m sorry.” Theo said, finally. His voice was thick, and his words slurred a little. His tongue felt clumsy and numb. He twisted the water bottle in his hands, staring at the way the light reflected off the water. He didn’t know how to explain himself.  

“Ben … He broke up with me, after I was admitted to the hospital for the first time. I was there for two weeks, and … My recovery was going to be too long, he’d said, and he just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk, and I couldn’t talk. And I just … He got scared, I thought. I thought the MS scared him. But he just told me now he’d been cheating on me.”

He didn’t want to cry, but his voice caught in his throat. He didn’t want to be angry anymore. He just wanted to forget about Ben completely.

“He’s such a piece of shit.” Theo said then, voice dipping to a shaking whisper. He shook his head, breathing in unsteadily.

“I just never thought about how badly he treated me, until I met you. You treat me … Like I’ve always wanted to be treated. And I guess it just made me mad when I realized how many years I wasted on him. How stupid I was. How if I’d met you back then, I don’t know if I would have even given you a chance, since I was used to being treated like shit.”

Theo twisted open the water bottle, raising it shakily to his lips. He took a small sip, washing away the taste of rum and gin.

“I’m sorry.” Theo repeated, finally lifting his gaze to meet his eyes. “We should go home. It’s late, anyways. I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.”

Wren had only just finished ordering the drinks when someone grabbed his elbow, making him jump. He looked over to see the blonde girl who had ambushed them in the theatre bar, this time holding a gigantic pink and orange cocktail. Worryingly, she looked significantly less sober than she had earlier, and when their eyes met, she gave him a huge smile which couldn’t have looked more superficial if she’d tried.

“Hi!” she said, a little too loud. “I’m Poppy. We met at the play, remember? I didn’t catch your name!”

Wren tried to pull his arm back, but her fingers just dug in harder. “Uh,” he said. “It’s Wren.“

“Ron?” she repeated, leaning in closer.

“Wren. Like the bird.” Jesus Christ, her grip was like a vice.

“Oh, cool,” she said, though he wasn’t convinced she had understood (or cared) what he’d said. “You’re dating Theo, right? How long have you guys been going out?”

“Um, a couple of months, I guess,” he said, glancing around in the hopes of catching the attention of someone who would be able to rescue him.

“Awww, so you guys are still in the honeymoon phase! That’s cute.” Poppy giggled and squeezed his arm, tilting her head to one side. “You know, we’re all so glad he came tonight... Ben invited him but he didn’t reply, so we figured we wouldn’t see him, especially since he, like, cut everyone off when he moved to Portland or whatever. But then there he was, in the front row! It was such a nice surprise, especially for Ben. He’s been so worried about him, ever since they broke up. They dated for five years, did you know that?”

“Yes,” said Wren, but he shouldn’t have bothered. Poppy carried on as though he hadn’t.

“So obviously Theo took it hard—like, duh, he moved across the country—but we all still cared about him, you know, and Ben especially. Like I said he was so worried that he would get sick, well, sicker I guess. Has he gotten sicker? He has a cane now, right? Is that like a fashion thing or does he really need it?”

“I’m pretty sure he needs it,” said Wren, and Poppy finally let go of his arm, even if it was to clamp across her mouth in a dramatic display of shock.

“Oh my god,” she said, “you must think I’m so insensitive—like I didn’t mean to imply he was faking, it’s just that he never used one here, and it’s so upsetting to think about. Ben will be so concerned, like this is the last thing he wanted to happen, you know? It was such a hard decision for him to make.”

She paused, and for a second Wren thought she’d finally run out of steam, but when she looked back up at him with an exaggerated sigh he knew he’d been mistaken. “I mean...” she started, glancing at her drink, “personally… I think it was for the best. Ben loved him so much, but he could be kind of controlling, you know? Like if Ben wanted to go out without him, he would go crazy, and there was that whole thing with his family… like, I know they’re loaded and everything, but apparently his grandfather was a Nazi or something? When Ben went over to his house he saw that they had Nazi memorabilia just like… out on display? Ben’s Jewish, you know, so it was extra uncomfortable. He said that there was a weird vibe that whole weekend, and he wanted to go, but he stayed for Theo. If it were me, I would’ve called someone to get me out of there as soon as possible!”

She looked at him expectantly, but he had no idea what she wanted him to say. (Nor, to be fair, did he have any idea what to say outside of her expectations either.) It turned out not to matter. A moment later, he heard a voice cutting through the music. Theo’s voice. Shouting. Wren couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but he sounded distressed, and that was more than enough of a reason to leave.

“Excuse me,” he said to Poppy, but she wasn’t paying attention to him any more either. All eyes seemed to be on Theo—and the person he was arguing with.

Shit.

Ben looked even more unpleasant up close, pasty and cold with his wire-rimmed glasses, wearing a smirk that made Wren’s skin crawl. He was such a stark contrast to Theo, too, passive while he was agitated, his stance and demeanour—so condescending—clearly broadcasting that he thought he’d already won. Wren had never taken such an instant dislike to someone before, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He’d come in during the tail end of their fight, and he didn’t know what he’d missed, but even this on its own sounded bad. Before he could decide on the best way to defuse the situation, though, Ben was reaching forwards and Theo was stumbling back, and it may only have been luck that he was there to catch him, but he was grateful for it, because otherwise Theo might have had a really bad fall.

He steadied Theo, but didn’t let go, slipping an arm around him instead while shooting Ben the most threatening look he could muster. They locked eyes, and goddamn if he didn’t want to wipe the look off his face. He wanted to grab him by the shirt, ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing—wanted to shake him, tell him that if he ever even looked in Theo’s direction again, he’d break both his arms. But it didn’t matter what he wanted. Theo’s plea was breaking his heart. He had to get him out of here.

Putting himself between Theo and Ben, Wren gave the latter one last glare before leading Theo away. He wasn’t sure where to take him, and as they started moving he weighed up their options. Not back to the table, where he’d still be able to see Ben. The bathrooms? Maybe, but they were likely to be crowded and noisy. Outside? That would mean they’d have to walk back past everyone. Then his mind dredged up a vague memory—didn’t this place have an outdoor patio?

It didn’t take him long to find it, and as he steered Theo through the doors he was relieved to find the jungle-themed outdoor area was quiet and empty, save for a couple at the far end whom he didn’t really want to look too closely at. He helped Theo into a chair, squeezing his hand. He looked small and sad, like a wilted flower, or as though a light had been dimmed inside of him, and for a moment Wren’s anger flared back up and he had to stop himself from marching back into the club to go have it out with Ben. Instead, he swallowed, took a moment to calm himself down, and passed Theo a bottle of water he’d swiped from the bar earlier, before slipping off his jacket and draping it across his shoulders.

Crouching down next to him, he put a hand on his knee, squeezing it softly as he started to talk. Truthfully, part of the reason it was so easy to focus on his anger was that it was at least concrete. Here… he didn’t know what to say or do. Just hearing Theo explain what Ben had done made his chest hurt. It was so hard to see him like this, and he couldn’t help but feel responsible. They’d been having a nice night, he thought, up until he’d left him alone. He should have been there, and he wished he could fix it, somehow, stymie the bleeding or turn back time and stop them from ever coming to see this stupid play.

Maybe the best thing he could do was just be there. When Theo looked at him, finally, wearing that miserable expression, Wren slipped into the chair next to him, and pulled him into a hug.

“You keep apologising for things you don’t need to apologise for,” he whispered, tucking an unruly lock of hair back behind his ear. “But I think you’re right. It’s late. Let’s go home.”

He helped Theo up, keeping an arm around his waist as he steered him back indoors. As they neared the bar, he tensed, ready for another confrontation, but he needn’t have worried. The crowd seemed to have dispersed a little, and nobody gave them a second look as they navigated the floor towards the exit. Thankfully Ben was nowhere to be seen, though he did spot Poppy hovering around a table near the bar, but she was easy enough to avoid, and soon they’d made it out of the VIP area and into the club, with all the anonymity it offered. It did seem a little emptier than earlier, which Wren was grateful for, and it wasn’t too long before they’d collected Theo’s jacket and cane from the coat check and were waiting outside for their Lyft.

The street was pretty much deserted, by New York standards, anyway, and Wren felt like he could breathe a little easier now that they were almost clear of the club. He hadn’t realised how tired he was, but doing the math, he was surprised that he’d lasted this long. It was nearing on two a.m.. If he didn’t count the nap they’d had earlier, or the snatches of sleep he’d had on the plane, they’d been up for almost a full day. It had been a while since he’d pulled those kinds of hours. And he’d told Carina he would be in the office tomorrow to finalise everything. They should have left a while ago.

He pulled Theo in a little closer and pressed an absent kiss to his temple as he pulled out his phone to check for where the cab was up to. When he opened the Lyft app (ETA one minute), a text from Scotty popped up on his screen, asking if they were okay. He tapped out a quick response—yeah, thanks, I think we just need to get home—say bye to everyone for us and speak to you tomorrow?—and by the time he sent it the car was pulling in in front of them. He helped Theo in to the back seat and slid in next to him, buckling his seatbelt for him before reaching for his hand, entwining their fingers. He looked upset, still, and tired, more tired than Wren had ever seen before, and he wanted to ask how he was doing, but he thought he knew what the answer would be. Still, the silence was heavy, and he felt the desperate need to break it.

His phone vibrated, and he glanced at it to find another text from Scotty. There was a photo attached, and he smiled and showed it to Theo—a group selfie of their table, with everybody waving. “I think Scotty likes you,” he said, squeezing Theo’s hand as he read the text. “He’s asking if we want to go see his studio tomorrow afternoon, after lunch. Do you want to go? If it helps, he promises Ben won’t be there this time.”

Theo had always hoped that the first time seeing Ben again after so long wouldn’t make him so upset. He’d thought that moving to Cannon Beach, setting down roots and starting fresh, had somehow made him more grown up. More mature - more stable. But now, after even the smallest of provocation, he still felt like the idiotic child who had fallen for Ben’s charm.

It was difficult to know what to expect from Wren. They’d never been in a situation like this, where Theo's carelessness had led to a combination of alcohol, past dramas, and fiery tempers flaring all at once to coalesce into one fucked up night. The closest they’d gotten into having an argument was when Wren, after drowning his own problems in enough alcohol to tranquilize a horse, had surprised Theo by pulling him off his feet and into his lap. Theo had been so angry. And Wren had been upset. Unbidden, the memories from that night flooded his consciousness, and Theo let go of a shaking breath, shutting his eyes tight. Wren pulling his hands away from his grasp. Wren unwilling to meet his eyes. Unable to even speak to him. to He didn’t know what he’d do if Wren was upset like that again. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

Theo directed his attention away from a smashed cigarette butt on the ground to Wren’s hand engulfing his knee. He stared at it numbly, unwilling to believe that Wren wasn't upset with him just in case he was wrong. He clutched Wren’s jacket closer to his chest and looked up, right into the swimming blue of Wren’s eyes. It was too much, and he had to force himself not to look away. And then Wren was moving, and Theo felt his warmth beside and his arm circling his shoulders. He stretched his mouth tight when Wren told him he didn’t have to be sorry. That he didn’t have to apologize. He wanted to cry. He wanted Wren to be upset with him, but at the same time he wanted him to tell him he was right to be upset. That Ben was an asshole. That he loved him and cared about him. 

He pressed his face into Wren’s shoulder as he held him close, his fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, finger tips slipping into the gaps between the buttons. He was warm. He was solid. And he was out here on this rooftop bar in the late September cold, with him, instead of with his friends inside. After Theo had embarrassed himself and Wren in front of everybody.

Wren had said he had nothing to apologize for. He just wasn’t sure if he agreed.

And then Wren let him go. And he didn’t say anything else.

That fact nagged at his drunken mind as Wren helped him stand, and clung to his misery like a leaden weight. He’d wiped at his eyes as Wren had wrapped a steady arm around his waist and lead him back inside, where it was loud and suffocating and Theo dreaded having to speak to another person. Though as Wren lead him through the club Theo found it easy to ignore those he wished to ignore. He kept his eyes on the ground, stepping as carefully as he could, and his hand on top of Wren’s. The lights bled together, purples and blues and strobing whites, and his feet weren’t cooperating. He stumbled at least once or twice. The music was too loud, the bass pounding in his ears and conversations from the tables they passed bleeding together into incoherent static. It made him feel ill. The one constant thing was Wren, whom he clung onto like moss to stone.

And then they were outside.

The relative calm of the street should have felt like a breath of fresh air, but it didn’t. There were people out here too, loud and drunk and alive, where he and Wren stood in unmoving silence by the edge of the road, precariously close to the swarm of cabs and ubers and lyfts fighting for the space to idle. He looked away as Wren pulled out his phone, but let himself be pulled in against his body, if only to anchor himself in the present, to stop himself from being dragged back to the memories of the lonely apartment he’d shared with Ben in Brooklyn, where they would spend the long cab ride home in tense silence, until Ben felt like it was the right time to lay into him. How he’d gotten too drunk. How he’d nearly fallen – he just hadn’t wanted Ben to touch him. He’d never really been good at listening to him. 

Worse, still, Theo thought as his eyes began to well with tears. Poppy would talk. Ben would feign concern and slip back into his familiar role as the benevolent ex who’d simply tried to extend the olive branch. And they would gossip about his cane. They would whisper about his gait, how he was limping now and could barely grasp a glass, with hands clutched to their chests in concern. We had no idea. They would pity Wren, for having to take care of him. 

Theo turned his face into Wren’s chest, just as a tear slipped loose. A shaky breath wracked through his chest just as the car pulled up. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t know why, or what for. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve (Wren’s sleeve), just as he helped him in, taking him by the arm and lowering him in - but he couldn’t help feel like his movements were too brisk, too quick, like he was trying to get him home as quickly as possible.

He deserved it, Theo thought glumly.

There was silence, as Wren shut his door and came around the other side of the car. He didn’t speak to the driver, suddenly finding himself unsure of how to make small talk. What to say. He opened his mouth to try, but his tongue felt clumsy. 

The other door opened and Theo turned his head to find Wren folding into the car, twisting his shoulders and neck in the elaborate, though strategic manner that was required to fit his 6’4” frame into the backseat of Toyota Camry. Once Wren was settled, and had placed the objects he was carrying in his lap (Theo’s jacket and cane – which he’d completely forgotten about) he surprised Theo by reaching over his body to do up his seatbelt for him, and then taking his hand in his. His scent lingered, and Theo touched the seatbelt strapped over his chest as he frowned, staring at the way their hands fit together. The perfect shape of it. He felt tears well in his eyes again, but this time because he was overwhelmingly grateful that maybe, just maybe, Wren wasn’t angry with him. He tried to squeeze Wren’s hand in his, but he got little more than a twitch of his thumb for the effort.

Wren’s phone buzzed. He saw Scotty’s name come up, and he glanced away, partly to give Wren privacy and partly because the bright screen made him feel nauseous. But then Wren was showing him something, and Theo made himself look.

“He does?” Theo asked, uncomprehending as he scanned Scotty’s words. It didn’t make any sense, or maybe it was pitying. Or maybe Wren was just mistaken. But as read the text, the truth became more and more difficult to deny.

yeah no worries, surprised you lasted this long tbh. Maybe you should come by the studio tomorrow?? Around 3? (No Ben! I promise!!! I like Theo and don’t want to completely scare him off! 😬) you two seem good together. except he finds you suspiciously hilarious. maybe he’s had a head injury or something?

He grinned, and then laughed, disbelievingly. It felt unbelievably good. With his free hand Theo reached for the phone, bringing it closer to his face to make sure he'd read it right. And when Theo grinned up at him, Wren smiled back, his face illuminated by the bright screen.

He didn’t dwell long on what Wren had done that made him feel so much better. And his actions now, tender and kind, had put a new lens on the whole night. Maybe it was his willingness to touch him, his reassuring hand settling at his hip as he guided him through the throng of bodies in the club. His touch protective. Caring. Focused entirely on him. And then in the car, his fingers threading through his, to let him know they were okay. To make sure Theo was okay. Making small talk, even as Theo knew there was little more Wren hated than small talk. His quiet reassurance. The simple fact that he could rely on him, to be on his side. 

Maybe that’s all Theo needed from Wren.   

He scooted closer, freeing his hand to touch Wren’s jaw and pull him into a sudden kiss, sliding his fingers through his hair. He was smiling as he pulled away, only to press a series of kisses to his jaw, his neck, the space behind his ear, as the car sped them through the relative emptiness of Manhattan. 

“You are the sweetest, most wonderful man, Wren Ruskin.” Theo praised, in between kisses.

“And I don’t know what I would do without you.”

When they got to the hotel, Theo directed Wren to tip the driver well, as he had done a good job and had gotten them home safely. Then, with Wren’s jacket still draped around his shoulders, he tucked his arm through Wren’s and allowed him to lead him up through the quiet lobby and into the elevator, where it was private. Or at least, private enough for Theo to place his hands on Wren's chest and pin him against the wall of the elevator, clumsy hands running up his chest, and going for the buttons of his shirt as he kissed him deeply. He felt his hands around his waist, which only spurred him on. The elevator doors pinged, and he gave Wren the shortest of breaks as they made their way to their suite. Once they were inside however, Theo was moving towards him and kissing him again, hands this time going for his belt, fumbling to undo it. Failing at this, but unwilling to be dissuaded, he tugged Wren’s shirt free from his trousers, before taking his hands and leading him into the bedroom.

“Take your pants off,” Theo demanded, grinning slyly as he leaned up to kiss him. He only made it to Wren’s jaw, which he planted kiss after kiss on. He took another step backwards, and then gasped in surprise as something butted up against the back of his knees, causing him to lose his balance and thoroughly ruin the mood. He tumbled onto the mattress, Wren’s hands clamped around his, and as he helped ease Theo onto his back, he couldn’t help but smile gratefully up at him.

“I think I had too much to drink.” Theo admitted then. He raised his arm up over his eyes, and then grinned as he peaked up at him, even as the ceiling spun. Wren sat down beside him and took his hand, and Theo's smile faded as his gaze shifted to Wren's hand holding his. He tried to squeeze it again, but his fingers produced little more than a twitch. 

“You’re my best friend. Did you know that?” Theo said, voice breaking the silence, suddenly sombre. He bit his lip, glancing up to meet Wren's eyes. 

"I don't think I've ever had a best friend." Theo said then, eyes drifting to the ceiling. It wasn't exactly a profound realization, especially after the events of the night. "Nothing like you. Or like this. It feels ..." He paused, trying to think of the right words. 

"I feel like I'm at home, when I'm with you. Like you're somewhere I want to be, all the time. And I'm safe, and cared for, and ... Believed in." For an awful moment, he felt like he might cry again. But instead he smiled, a sudden realization dawning over him, like he'd just had the best idea since man learned how to fly. 

"We should get married." Theo said then, a grin lighting up his face even as his voice sunk to a whisper. Like the idea was too grand, had too much power. He lifted Wren's hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to the centre of his palm, to the soft parts of his wrist. 

"Marry me. We can do it in Central Park, or maybe ... Maybe on the Brooklyn Bridge. Or even here, in this hotel. I can't imagine being happier than I already am, but I'd like to find out how it feels."

Wren woke up way too early.

He didn’t want to, but it had always been his curse. At the first hint of consciousness, the outside world took its opportunity, gentle at first, as though testing the waters, before striking. The first stage, a gradual awareness of his surroundings, was pleasant enough—the hazy morning light filtering in through the windows, the sound (once familiar, now decidedly less so) of the traffic several storeys below, the warmth radiating from Theo, and his weight, reassuring, nestled in against him—but he knew it wouldn’t last. The light would shine in his eyes, the noise would grow too loud, the heat would be too warm, or he would grow uncomfortable, and when that happened, the only solution would be to get up. It was better to get up now, remember the morning as it was, rather than what it would be.

Even if it was just before six a.m., as he discovered soon after, much to his dismay.

Groaning, he disentangled himself from Theo and pushed himself up, allowing himself a moment to pull out of the sleep-induced fog still lingering. Once he felt a bit more awake, he glanced over at his sleeping boyfriend, and couldn’t help but smile. He looked so peaceful now. The contrast to last night was astounding. They’d sat like this then, too, Wren holding him steady, trying not to laugh when he admitted he might have had too much too drink—

“You don’t say,” he teased, fighting back a grin as he slipped his hand into his. He was glad he’d come to the conclusion himself; Theo was stubborn at the best of times, and while the torrent of kisses and the attempts to undress him had been nice, he hadn’t been looking forward to figuring out how to convince him to just call it a night. It turned out that Theo was a force of nature even when drunk. He was grateful for the reprieve.

Bringing his hand up to his mouth, Wren kissed his knuckles, content to let him speak. The sudden sombreness took him by surprise, though, and he met his eyes over the curve of his fingers, his smile fading a little at his words. “Theo...” he started, but cut himself off. It felt important to let him talk and he didn’t know what to say anyway. He looked down at the mattress, at the rumpled sheets belying their nap earlier that day, then back up at Theo, and smiled again, pressing another kiss to his fingertips.

“Theo?” he whispered, but he was well and truly fast asleep. In fact, judging by the untouched glass of water and cocktail of pills he’d left on his night stand the night before, it looked like he’d been asleep through the night. Good. Wren tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear and kissed his temple, before pulling back the covers and slipping out of bed. Tiptoeing to the bathroom, he shut the door behind him with a gentle click, then ran the water by the sink nearest the door. His reflection in the mirror was pretty dire; his eyes had dark bags under them, and he looked pale, and clearly exhausted… much like you’d expect for a man who’d slept maybe five out of the past forty-eight hours. But even he couldn’t deny that he also looked happy.

In spite of everything, he felt happy too.

We should get married.

Wren laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was so unexpected. He pulled his hand free from Theo’s to flop down beside him, running his thumb across his cheek, and cupping his jaw to tilt his face towards him so that he could look him in the eyes.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Then, he kissed him, slow, savouring the moment, and he hoped Theo knew he meant it.

It was crazy. They’d only been seeing each other for what, six weeks? They were insane.

He knew Theo had been drunk, and that he probably hadn’t meant it. But he also knew that he felt like he’d spent his whole life drifting along, waiting for Theo to find him, and once he had, he’d brought him nothing but joy.

It had only been six weeks, but six weeks was enough to know that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He didn’t see why they should have to wait if they were both ready. So, yes. Even if it had only been six weeks, even if he was unemployed and had no idea what he was going to do next, If Theo was serious, he was in. Time hadn’t changed his mind.

He should have said it then. Instead, he kissed the tip of Theo’s nose and rolled over onto his back, smiling up at the ceiling before turning his head to look at him again.

“I want a ring,” he said. “And we have to make sure my mom’s there. She’ll kill us both if she misses it.”

God, he should have said it then, but Theo giggled and he laughed and suddenly they were kissing again, so he couldn’t speak even if he’d wanted to. He wasn’t really sure how he ended up on top of Theo, but there he was, and then he checked the time and saw it was nearly two thirty and shit, he had to be up in the morning, so he made Theo promise to be serious because they had to get ready for bed, and he started unknotting his tie, but everything seemed to take twice as long as normal, and he had to concentrate harder, only Theo kept pulling faces when he thought he wasn’t looking and trying to kiss him when he thought he was.

He’d just about managed to wrangle Theo out of his clothes and into one of his t-shirts when he grabbed his wrists with surprising strength and demanded they order something from room service to celebrate their engagement. Wren had trouble saying no to him at the best of times, so he’d had to go get the room service menu, and Theo pored over it while he got into pyjamas. Ideally they wanted champagne, and there was even a bottle at the wet bar, but somehow it seemed like a bad idea, so they settled on the fanciest food instead—butter-poached lobster, even though Theo was vegan and Wren didn’t like seafood.

Theo made him call down to order the dish and when the knock came at the door, he climbed out of bed to go answer it. Once the food had been rolled in and the delivery man tipped ($20—Wren still had no idea if that was too much or too little), he went back to the bedroom to get Theo, but it was quickly apparent that he’d passed out.

The sight made him smile, and he abandoned the lobster to join him. He topped up a glass of water for Theo, and, realising he hadn’t seen him take his evening medication, set a dose down on the night stand on his side of the bed. He brushed his teeth and washed his face and dimmed the lights. And then he crawled into bed next to him, and slid an arm over Theo’s stomach, reaching for his hand. He shut his eyes and nosed into the crook of his neck, where it was warm, and safe, and felt like home.

“Theo,” he murmured, even though he knew he couldn’t hear him. “Theo, I love you.”

Wren brushed his teeth and got dressed, humming and hawing over the selection of clothes he’d brought before settling on a pair of jeans, his hoodie and a plain t-shirt. He’d told Carina he would be in at some point that day and since he was up, he might as well go get it over with. Jeans and a t-shirt weren’t the most professional, but he didn’t owe them that any more, and it wasn’t as though there would be anyone there to see him—which, of course, was the advantage of going early.

He felt a bit guilty. Angie and Katie had probably been looking forward to seeing him, and he was sure they’d be upset to miss him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his coworkers. He did, and considered them friends. But at the same time, that made it worse. As nice as it would be to see them… saying goodbye the first time had been hard enough. He didn’t want a repeat of that.

Maybe they could go out for drinks or something later in the week instead. That might be nice.

Fuck. He should go. There was just one last thing.

Lingering by the bed for a moment, he chewed his lip. He didn’t want to just leave without telling Theo where he’d gone, but he also didn’t want to wake him up, he was sleeping so soundly. He decided to leave him a note. He sourced a pad of paper, headed with the hotel’s letterhead, in the drawer of the desk in the living area, along with an impressively weighty pen. Once he was done, he folded it in half and propped it up against the glass of water next to his bed. Then, out of excuses to stay, he grabbed his set of keys and left for the subway.

Hey there honeybee,

I’ve gone to my old office to finalize the papers and get my stuff. Don’t think it’ll take too long. Might even be back before you see this?

I’ll grab some breakfast before I come home. Call me if you need me. Love you.

W x

Even at seven, there were people milling about the office, getting coffee in the kitchen or eating breakfast at their desks. Wren recognised some of them, attorneys from different teams he’d worked with maybe once or twice, but the others were new faces. Aside from that, there were other, more subtle changes. A new coffee machine. Plants in different places. Desks which had been turned ninety degrees. Things he was surprised he noticed, until he remembered he’d spent the better part of six years in this space, a fact he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

This place… it had been his second home. He’d probably spent more time here than he had his actual home, late nights with Will and Katie bickering about where to get take out, combing through files trying to find the one detail that could make or break a case, sampling the treats Angie somehow found time to bake most weeks. He’d had some of his biggest triumphs here, real achievements that made him feel like he’d made a difference, that had made all of the work he’d put in feel worth it. He didn’t know if he’d ever have that again.

Thinking about the future was too hard, but the present wasn’t much better. The bank of desks he’d spent all that time at was the same, except for a couple of new photos on Katie’s desk and the fact that all of his stuff had been removed. Not removed. Replaced. By a standing desk, a miniature cactus and a gym bag.

At least he’d been right about it being too early for anyone on his team, just about, anyway. He’d always been the first one in, then Katie and Angie at around the same time, then Will by eight thirty if they were lucky. Carina was the only one who ever beat him. He swore she didn’t sleep. The door to her office was ajar, and he knocked and peered his head around the corner, he spied her behind her desk, sipping a cup of coffee and scrolling through her phone. She looked up when he knocked, and when she saw him she smiled and set her mug down, standing up to greet him.

“Wren! Come in!” she said, and once he stepped into the room she gave him a hug, which came as a shock. He’d always thought of her as stern and professional, hardly the hugging type. She ushered him into a seat as she rounded the desk, opening a filing cabinet stowed by her feet. “Do you want any coffee? Tea?”

“No thank you,” he said weakly, taking a seat. She was already pulling out a manilla folder and sliding it across to him.

“I’m surprised to see you here so early, but maybe I shouldn’t be,” she said, moving to a set of shelves on the back wall to pull down a box. “When did you arrive? How have you been keeping?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” he said, but it felt like someone else talking. The box had his name on it. So did the folder. He opened it to find a ream of documents, some things which needed a signature, a summary of the circumstances of his severance, a few pamphlets about what benefits he was still entitled to, what would happen to his pension, how he could pursue worker’s comp—all kinds of things he didn’t give a fuck about.

“Take your time,” said Carina. He could sense that she was watching him. “If you have any questions...”

“I think I’m good,” he said, swallowing. “Just tell me where to sign and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t. Instead she took the folder back from him and turned to the first page which required a signature before handing it back. He signed it, she pointed him to the next one, and they carried on like that until they got to the end. Once he was done, she excused herself for a moment to head to the photocopier. Hands suddenly empty, Wren picked the box up off the table. It was small, barely bigger than a shoebox, and light. There was almost nothing in it. A couple of photos, one from his graduation and another of his family. A stupid rubber duck wearing a cowboy hat Will had gotten him after a trip to Texas. A few pens and a pencil, all chewed on. A box of paper clips. A tin of peppermint tea he’d kept for emergencies.

He took the paper clips out and set them on Carina’s desk. He was pretty sure he’d taken them from the stationery cupboard anyway.

When she came back a few minutes later, she handed him copies of the papers he’d just signed, plus the pamphlets from the folder.

“Thanks,” he said, stashing them in his box and standing up. Her expression was painful to look at.

“Wren...”

“It’s fine, Carina,” he interrupted. “I’m okay.”

“You have a lot of friends here,” she said.

“I know. I mean it. Thanks for everything.”

He wasn’t sure if she watched him go, but he was pretty sure she did. As he left the building he thought he saw Katie walking up the street, but he had his hood up and she didn’t seem to recognise him, and he was grateful for small mercies.

Wren got back to the hotel at around nine thirty, taking the long way back to go visit his favourite greasy spoon near the entrance to the subway. He ordered two of the blue plate specials to go, and a filter coffee for on the way. They didn’t look like much, and they certainly weren’t vegan, but they were tasty and he knew from experience that they were exactly what you wanted when nursing a hangover, so he hoped that would be okay. Besides, organising breakfast made a nice distraction from dwelling on his morning so far. He’d already gotten a couple of texts from Katie, which he hadn’t been able to bear reading yet, and every so often his phone would vibrate gently as though to remind him of everything he was avoiding.

Theo didn’t greet him as he unlocked the door, and he figured he was probably still asleep. He was pleased to see that he’d managed to get the food back without spilling anything, and even more pleased that it was still somehow warm when he unpacked the bag out on the dining table. He decided to check to see how Theo was doing—he could wait to eat, but the food would be better fresh—but when he cracked open the door to the bedroom, he wasn’t in the bed either. The door to the bathroom was open, though, and he could hear music playing from inside.

He went through to find Theo in front of the mirror, holding a comb and looking altogether much more awake than Wren had expected, even if he wasn’t dressed yet. He smiled—fuck, it felt good to be able to smile again—and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Theo’s middle, to bury his nose into his hair and breathe him in, relishing the feeling of his hands on his skin. He’d missed him. He hadn’t realised just how much his presence buoyed him, and he couldn’t imagine doing this—any of this—without him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, kissing his earlobe, then his bare shoulder, before moving to the spot on his neck he knew was ticklish. “I thought you’d still be asleep.” He met his eyes in the mirror, and gave him a coy smile, breakfast forgotten. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

It wasn’t the thirst that woke him - the dry, chalkiness of his mouth, or the acrid, sour coating of stale alcohol that carpeted his tongue. It wasn’t Wren, the redistribution of weight as he made to stand, his gentle touch as he tucked an errant curl of hair behind his ear, the subdued sound of him shuffling about the suite, putting off his task for the morning. The gentle closing of the door as he left for his old office, to sign the papers to put an end to his life in New York. The silence he left behind.

It certainly wasn’t the sun streaming in through the gap in the velvet curtains, for Theo had stubbornly tugged the heavy duvet up and over his head. The only evidence of a sleeping man at all was the tuft of reddish-blonde curls that spilled onto the pillow.

No, it was the pain that woke him.

It was worse than the usual pain. While it was normal for Theo to wake up stiff and sore, with some amount of nausea and fogginess that he could usually shake off within the hour, this was something else altogether.  It was the kind of pain that had him gasping as he woke, shocks of electricity travelling up his spine and lodging into the base of his skull. Tiny muscle spasms travelled up and down his legs, twisting and cramping as they went. And the headache. Oh, the headache.

Theo opened his eyes, wincing tightly at the throb of pain that had settled somewhere deep in the centre of his temples (maybe where his brain had once been, before he’d pickled it), when his cloudy vision settled on the assemblage of pills on his nightstand table. He groaned gutturally, shutting his eyes once again. That explained it, he thought miserably to himself. He hadn’t taken his drugs, and he couldn’t fathom why the fuck not. He wondered, with a twinge of faraway annoyance, why Wren had made him take them. He’d taken his injection before leaving for the play, but surely by now Wren must have known how important it was he took his meds?

It took a few tries to sit up; his abdominal muscles were sore, and his arms and legs were stiff. Predictably, his left side was much worse off; his knee and elbow had locked up, and he couldn’t bend either without feeling like a rusty hinge. It made sense now, since the pills he took every night were to manage his symptoms. Once he’d righted himself, he took a moment to sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, feeling profoundly miserable and sorry for himself. He attempted to massage some feeling back into his left arm, but everything was sore, and nothing seemed to help. He stared at the medication left on his side table grimly, before clumsily fisting the lot into his mouth. Taking a gulp of water, he shut his eyes in discomfort as the medication travelled down his throat in a thick lump. With any luck, in a few hours he would begin to feel a bit better.

Theo stared blearily at the wall, as he hunched over in attempt to give his back a break. He didn’t know how he was going to get through the day. They were in New York, they had plans, and the last thing he wanted was to spend the whole day in bed. While a part of him was sure Wren wouldn’t mind, napping all day was something that should only be done at home. They hadn’t come all this way to nap, and he was sure Wren would appreciate the distraction.  However, unless his leg loosened up, walking was going to be next to impossible, and he didn’t even have his vaporiser with him to help ease things along.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hungover, never mind this badly. He rarely drank more than a glass of wine -- maybe two, if he was out or celebrating something.  With some embarrassment he tried to count the number of drinks he’d unwisely consumed throughout the night, and sadly lost count after his second glass of wine at dinner and fourth gin and tonic at the bar. With a swell of nausea rolling through his stomach, he remembered vaguely the cloying sweetness of a rum and coke, his least favourite drink. If he’d been drunk enough to voluntarily drink that, then the hangover didn’t seem that unreasonable anymore.

Then the other memories came flooding back, each settling over his shoulders with a heavy feeling he’d become less familiar with over the years, but now had come back with a vengeance: shame.  

This was what he could remember:

1. Ben pulling him into a hug - his hand on his arm, and the sweet, musty scent of him. Like moth-eaten sweaters and dusty books. He smelled like Poppy, or maybe was just beginning to look like her… Their expressions seemed so similar, now. Thin, superficial. The memory of his hands gripping his waist had his stomach swirling, his throat heaving as if in preparation to vomit. He remembered shouting at him, the faces of people as they turned to stare. It explained why his throat felt raw.
2. He remembered falling backwards and Wren catching him. Wren whisking him away to the rooftop patio, where it was quiet and Wren had held him close as Theo had … Divulged even more, likely embarrassing, tidbits of his past. The image of Wren and Poppy talking at the bar surfaced then, and with some dread, Theo wondered what she’d said about him. What Wren had said in return.
3. Wren had taken him home, but hadn’t been angry with him. They’d kissed in the back of the car, and then some more when they were back at the hotel. He remembered the feel of Wren’s belt as he fumbled to get it undone, the way Wren had refused to let go of him. He supposed it was good sign that the shirt he wore now – soft and worn and far too big – had been clearly Wren’s doing.
4. Theo had asked Wren to marry him.

The last memory had him pausing. He’d done what now?

Theo searched through his foggy, misfiled memories. Wren lying on the bed next to him, smiling. (His smile always seemed to change his features, which seemed to be perpetually too far away. He always seemed to smile like was grateful for it, for bringing him back to the present. Theo loved that about him.) His thumb brushing over his cheekbone, his eyes shining in the dimmed light of the soft, quiet bedroom. The deep, passionate way he tipped his chin up, the way he always kissed him with what felt like every ounce of his being. He loved that Wren always looked at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like there were no distraction, nothing to divert his attention.

Now, in the stark light of morning, he wasn’t sure if Wren had been humouring him. It didn’t feel like it, and Wren … Wren didn’t seem like someone who would take a request such as this lightly. But still, he couldn’t be sure. It seemed like,

And yet, as Theo reached for the glass of water, his fingers brushed against a folded up note. With shaking hands, he lifted it up to his eyes, scanning over Wren’s neat cursive. He felt his expression soften.

His hangover momentarily forgotten, he read the note once, and then twice, and then once again just to be sure. The greeting made him smile, and he felt his chest warm as he read it. Honeybee. The pet name was funny, and teasing, and made him feel a little better about the disaster that last night had been. Beyond that he didn’t really understand, but it was certainly better than Red. And it was sweet, and very much Wren. 

Love you.

W x

Wren hadn’t said it to him yet aloud. But it seemed like all the confirmation Theo needed.

Were they engaged now?

The idea didn’t seem as unexpected as he would have once thought. Theo loved him. He wanted to commit to him. He wanted Wren to move in with him, and fix up the upstairs part of the house as he wished. It could be his office, maybe. He could find a job in Portland, or in another town along the coast. There were so many options. They could spend their evenings on the couch, watching movies or just reading - after cooking dinner together, of course. He could teach Wren how to cook, and maybe Wren would enjoy it. He wanted to marry him. Maybe on the beach, or maybe somewhere simple, like the Portland City Hall. He wanted Emily to meet Robin, he wanted Wren’s parents to meet his parents –

The fantasy shattered and slipped through his fingers, and with another feeling of dread Theo realized he’d have to call Lisa sooner or later. He’d somehow been able to put off thinking about it – how he was now in the same state as his entire family. How he’d lied to Lisa about Wren coming with him. How he didn’t know what he would say to her when they finally spoke.

He could worry about it later. Now, he wanted to make sure he was ready to start his day once Wren returned.

With a low groan, Theo finally made to stand. It was less pleasant than he’d even begun to imagine, with his bones scraping together and his muscles creaking. As he passed his empty suitcase, he slipped the note into one of the pockets on the side (it felt like something he should keep – like a Wren Ruskin styled love letter), and ambled into the living room.

The serving dish of lobster was the first thing he saw as he left the bedroom. His stomach did a nasty thing then, and he clapped a hand over his mouth as the smell hit him. He didn’t know why it was there, and again, as he picked up the phone to call someone up to get rid of it (and maybe bring him an almond milk cappuccino, along with the day’s paper. A fruit salad, too, would be nice), he flipped through his fractured memories. Theo stared at the slimy, greasy pieces of lobster tail suspiciously. He didn’t think he’d ordered it, but it didn’t seem like something Wren would do, what with his aversion to all things edible that came from the sea. Maybe they’d been celebrating. Which, to Theo, seemed like another sign that Wren had agreed to marry him.

He just wished he could remember the event in its entirety. However, the thought still made him smile.

He showered, just long enough to rinse off the grimy feeling that clung to his skin and shampoo and condition his hair. He brushed his teeth twice and rinsed with mouth wash, hoping to rid himself of the lingering taste of gin. The shower helped to loosen his muscles but he was still in a good amount of pain as he stiffly ambled to the living, where he noticed that his breakfast had been delivered (and the lobster taken away). Theo decided to take a break then, and wrapped up in one of the fluffy robes, curled up in one of the overstuffed leather chairs and tried to read the paper.

After breakfast he felt a bit more human, or at least enough to try to get dressed. He picked out what he wanted to wear, and somehow managed to at least get his trousers on and buttoned up. In a perfect world he’d like to try to blow dry his hair, but he couldn’t lift his arms and certainly didn’t have the energy to hold a hair dryer. It would curl, but at least Wren didn’t seem to mind, so he set about trying to tame the eventual ringlets that would form.

That was when he heard the door open.

Wren found him, and Theo couldn’t help but smile as he walked into the bathroom (although even in his current state, had to stop himself from commenting on what Wren had decided to wear to sign his off-boarding papers). Wren stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around him, and Theo pressed his shoulder blades into his chest, leaning against him as his hands travelled over his skin. He watched in the mirror how they fit together, how the top of his head fit perfectly into the space beneath Wren’s jaw. How right they looked together. How being engaged made sense, even though Theo was still not certain enough of Wren's acceptance to bring it up now. He couldn’t help but note that he must have been in a good mood, and perhaps ending things at his office again hadn’t been as bad as he’d worried.

“Not for lack of trying,” Theo murmured. He felt his eyes slip shut as Wren kissed his earlobe, and then travelled down to his shoulder. He set the comb down on the counter to intertwine their fingers together, and he tilted his chin up to better receive Wren's attention.

And then Theo shivered, an unpleasant sensation snaking down the length of his spine as Wren knowingly brushed his lips against his ticklish spot. Instinctively he jerked away from Wren’s touch, only to wince as a shock of pain lanced through his neck. He closed his eyes and stepped away, as if it would absorb some of the discomfort, just as a wave of nausea overtook him, and he felt blindly for the countertop, placing his hand on it unsteadily as he used it to ground himself.

Fuck.

After a moment he glanced up at Wren, before turning his back to him and shakily picking the comb back up. He preferred not know if Wren had noticed. He would be worried, he would insist on staying in and resting some more. Instead, Theo groaned theatrically.

“If I go back to bed now I won’t get up,” said Theo, as if that were an excuse. He could have gone back to bed, truthfully. The pain killers would kick in soon, and another couple hours of sleep would have helped. But judging by Wren’s wandering hands, by his breath in his ear, warm and needy, sleeping wasn’t on his mind. He was in no shape for sex, so with regret Theo hoped look genuine, he smiled apologetically into the mirror.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure I still reek of alcohol. I can’t remember the last time I drank that much. That’s the one and only time I let you take me to a play that shitty!” He said, laughing (perhaps too loudly). He hoped he could distract him. He didn’t like saying no to Wren, but he liked it even less when he worried. Blaming his reluctance on his hangover was much simpler.

“I think a walk would help. Or maybe a massage? There’s a spa downstairs, and it really seems just what we need right now.” Theo smiled, and turned to face him properly, standing on his toes to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. It felt like kissing a statue.

“I’ll call down to see if they can fit in a couple’s massage.”

Wren hadn’t wanted to go for a walk, or get a massage. His mood seemed to sour even further after mentioning he’d picked up breakfast for them, and Theo admitted he’d already eaten (good thing, too, as the meal Wren had picked up violated at least 5 different rules of his diet. Something Theo had regretfully tried making a joke about when he should have just kept quiet). He asked Wren how the office had been, and Wren had said it’d been fine. And that was that. He’d then gone off for a shower, and Theo left him to it.

He needed someone to beat him up.  

Theo returned an hour and a half later. He felt immeasurably better, and instead of stiff and in pain he felt like warmed honey. Or maybe a tenderized veal cutlet was a more appropriate simile. The masseuse hadn’t held back (and Theo had 'forgotten' to mention he had MS), and he’d had what felt like every muscle in his body mechanically tenderized. His skin had been rubbed with oils and creams and he felt like a newborn baby. Even better, his drugs had kicked in, and he felt ready for a lie down – hopefully Wren would be okay with it. Smelling of sandalwood and still wearing the robe from the spa, he gently closed the door to the suite behind him. It dark, and only after a few seconds of searching did he find Wren in bed, wrapped up in the duvet with the curtains drawn.

Theo set his bundle of clothes down on the bench at the foot of the bed, and then lifted the covers and crept in next to his boyfriend. He exhaled slowly as he eased himself down. The mattress felt as soft as a cloud, and he wrapped his arms around Wren’s middle. His skin felt amazing – soft and warm, silky smooth.

“Wren,” Theo whispered. He craned his neck up, only to see that his eyes were closed, thick lashes dark against his skin. Sighing in contentment, Theo settled down next to him, pressing his face in between his shoulder blades in what had become their familiar napping position.

He was fast asleep before he knew it.

Theo slept for a blissful three hours. At 2:30 his alarm went off, and Theo reached for his phone to turn it off. He wrapped his arms around Wren, relishing how the feeling had returned to his hands as he ran them up Wren’s stomach to settle at his chest. Nuzzling just behind his ear, Theo pressed a warm, soft kiss to his neck.

“Wren,” Theo whispered in his ear. “Time to get up. Scotty’s expecting us soon.”  

It wasn’t the thirst that woke him - the dry, chalkiness of his mouth, or the acrid, sour coating of stale alcohol that carpeted his tongue. It wasn’t Wren, the redistribution of weight as he made to stand, his gentle touch as he tucked an errant curl of hair behind his ear, the subdued sound of him shuffling about the suite, putting off his task for the morning. The gentle closing of the door as he left for his old office, to sign the papers to put an end to his life in New York. The silence he left behind.

It certainly wasn’t the sun streaming in through the gap in the velvet curtains, for Theo had stubbornly tugged the heavy duvet up and over his head. The only evidence of a sleeping man at all was the tuft of reddish-blonde curls that spilled onto the pillow.

No, it was the pain that woke him.

It was worse than the usual pain. While it was normal for Theo to wake up stiff and sore, with some amount of nausea and fogginess that he could usually shake off within the hour, this was something else altogether.  It was the kind of pain that had him gasping as he woke, shocks of electricity travelling up his spine and lodging into the base of his skull. Tiny muscle spasms travelled up and down his legs, twisting and cramping as they went. And the headache. Oh, the headache.

Theo opened his eyes, wincing tightly at the throb of pain that had settled somewhere deep in the centre of his temples (maybe where his brain had once been, before he’d pickled it), when his cloudy vision settled on the assemblage of pills on his nightstand table. He groaned gutturally, shutting his eyes once again. That explained it, he thought miserably to himself. He hadn’t taken his drugs, and he couldn’t fathom why the fuck not. He wondered, with a twinge of faraway annoyance, why Wren had made him take them. He’d taken his injection before leaving for the play, but surely by now Wren must have known how important it was he took his meds?

It took a few tries to sit up; his abdominal muscles were sore, and his arms and legs were stiff. Predictably, his left side was much worse off; his knee and elbow had locked up, and he couldn’t bend either without feeling like a rusty hinge. It made sense now, since the pills he took every night were to manage his symptoms. Once he’d righted himself, he took a moment to sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, feeling profoundly miserable and sorry for himself. He attempted to massage some feeling back into his left arm, but everything was sore, and nothing seemed to help. He stared at the medication left on his side table grimly, before clumsily fisting the lot into his mouth. Taking a gulp of water, he shut his eyes in discomfort as the medication travelled down his throat in a thick lump. With any luck, in a few hours he would begin to feel a bit better.

Theo stared blearily at the wall, as he hunched over in attempt to give his back a break. He didn’t know how he was going to get through the day. They were in New York, they had plans, and the last thing he wanted was to spend the whole day in bed. While a part of him was sure Wren wouldn’t mind, napping all day was something that should only be done at home. They hadn’t come all this way to nap, and he was sure Wren would appreciate the distraction.  However, unless his leg loosened up, walking was going to be next to impossible, and he didn’t even have his vaporiser with him to help ease things along.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hungover, never mind this badly. He rarely drank more than a glass of wine -- maybe two, if he was out or celebrating something.  With some embarrassment he tried to count the number of drinks he’d unwisely consumed throughout the night, and sadly lost count after his second glass of wine at dinner and fourth gin and tonic at the bar. With a swell of nausea rolling through his stomach, he remembered vaguely the cloying sweetness of a rum and coke, his least favourite drink. If he’d been drunk enough to voluntarily drink that, then the hangover didn’t seem that unreasonable anymore.

Then the other memories came flooding back, each settling over his shoulders with a heavy feeling he’d become less familiar with over the years, but now had come back with a vengeance: shame.  

This was what he could remember:

1. Ben pulling him into a hug - his hand on his arm, and the sweet, musty scent of him. Like moth-eaten sweaters and dusty books. He smelled like Poppy, or maybe was just beginning to look like her… Their expressions seemed so similar, now. Thin, superficial. The memory of his hands gripping his waist had his stomach swirling, his throat heaving as if in preparation to vomit. He remembered shouting at him, the faces of people as they turned to stare. It explained why his throat felt raw.
2. He remembered falling backwards and Wren catching him. Wren whisking him away to the rooftop patio, where it was quiet and Wren had held him close as Theo had … Divulged even more, likely embarrassing, tidbits of his past. The image of Wren and Poppy talking at the bar surfaced then, and with some dread, Theo wondered what she’d said about him. What Wren had said in return.
3. Wren had taken him home, but hadn’t been angry with him. They’d kissed in the back of the car, and then some more when they were back at the hotel. He remembered the feel of Wren’s belt as he fumbled to get it undone, the way Wren had refused to let go of him. He supposed it was good sign that the shirt he wore now – soft and worn and far too big – had been clearly Wren’s doing.
4. Theo had asked Wren to marry him.

The last memory had him pausing. He’d done what now?

Theo searched through his foggy, misfiled memories. Wren lying on the bed next to him, smiling. (His smile always seemed to change his features, which seemed to be perpetually too far away. He always seemed to smile like was grateful for it, for bringing him back to the present. Theo loved that about him.) His thumb brushing over his cheekbone, his eyes shining in the dimmed light of the soft, quiet bedroom. The deep, passionate way he tipped his chin up, the way he always kissed him with what felt like every ounce of his being. He loved that Wren always looked at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like there were no distraction, nothing to divert his attention.

Now, in the stark light of morning, he wasn’t sure if Wren had been humouring him. It didn’t feel like it, and Wren … Wren didn’t seem like someone who would take a request such as this lightly. But still, he couldn’t be sure. It seemed like,

And yet, as Theo reached for the glass of water, his fingers brushed against a folded up note. With shaking hands, he lifted it up to his eyes, scanning over Wren’s neat cursive. He felt his expression soften.

His hangover momentarily forgotten, he read the note once, and then twice, and then once again just to be sure. The greeting made him smile, and he felt his chest warm as he read it. Honeybee. The pet name was funny, and teasing, and made him feel a little better about the disaster that last night had been. Beyond that he didn’t really understand, but it was certainly better than Red. And it was sweet, and very much Wren. 

Love you.

W x

Wren hadn’t said it to him yet aloud. But it seemed like all the confirmation Theo needed.

Were they engaged now?

The idea didn’t seem as unexpected as he would have once thought. Theo loved him. He wanted to commit to him. He wanted Wren to move in with him, and fix up the upstairs part of the house as he wished. It could be his office, maybe. He could find a job in Portland, or in another town along the coast. There were so many options. They could spend their evenings on the couch, watching movies or just reading - after cooking dinner together, of course. He could teach Wren how to cook, and maybe Wren would enjoy it. He wanted to marry him. Maybe on the beach, or maybe somewhere simple, like the Portland City Hall. He wanted Emily to meet Robin, he wanted Wren’s parents to meet his parents –

The fantasy shattered and slipped through his fingers, and with another feeling of dread Theo realized he’d have to call Lisa sooner or later. He’d somehow been able to put off thinking about it – how he was now in the same state as his entire family. How he’d lied to Lisa about Wren coming with him. How he didn’t know what he would say to her when they finally spoke.

He could worry about it later. Now, he wanted to make sure he was ready to start his day once Wren returned.

With a low groan, Theo finally made to stand. It was less pleasant than he’d even begun to imagine, with his bones scraping together and his muscles creaking. As he passed his empty suitcase, he slipped the note into one of the pockets on the side (it felt like something he should keep – like a Wren Ruskin styled love letter), and ambled into the living room.

The serving dish of lobster was the first thing he saw as he left the bedroom. His stomach did a nasty thing then, and he clapped a hand over his mouth as the smell hit him. He didn’t know why it was there, and again, as he picked up the phone to call someone up to get rid of it (and maybe bring him an almond milk cappuccino, along with the day’s paper. A fruit salad, too, would be nice), he flipped through his fractured memories. Theo stared at the slimy, greasy pieces of lobster tail suspiciously. He didn’t think he’d ordered it, but it didn’t seem like something Wren would do, what with his aversion to all things edible that came from the sea. Maybe they’d been celebrating. Which, to Theo, seemed like another sign that Wren had agreed to marry him.

He just wished he could remember the event in its entirety. However, the thought still made him smile.

He showered, just long enough to rinse off the grimy feeling that clung to his skin and shampoo and condition his hair. He brushed his teeth twice and rinsed with mouth wash, hoping to rid himself of the lingering taste of gin. The shower helped to loosen his muscles but he was still in a good amount of pain as he stiffly ambled to the living, where he noticed that his breakfast had been delivered (and the lobster taken away). Theo decided to take a break then, and wrapped up in one of the fluffy robes, curled up in one of the overstuffed leather chairs and tried to read the paper.

After breakfast he felt a bit more human, or at least enough to try to get dressed. He picked out what he wanted to wear, and somehow managed to at least get his trousers on and buttoned up. In a perfect world he’d like to try to blow dry his hair, but he couldn’t lift his arms and certainly didn’t have the energy to hold a hair dryer. It would curl, but at least Wren didn’t seem to mind, so he set about trying to tame the eventual ringlets that would form.

That was when he heard the door open.

Wren found him, and Theo couldn’t help but smile as he walked into the bathroom (although even in his current state, had to stop himself from commenting on what Wren had decided to wear to sign his off-boarding papers). Wren stepped behind him and wrapped his arms around him, and Theo pressed his shoulder blades into his chest, leaning against him as his hands travelled over his skin. He watched in the mirror how they fit together, how the top of his head fit perfectly into the space beneath Wren’s jaw. How right they looked together. How being engaged made sense, even though Theo was still not certain enough of Wren's acceptance to bring it up now. He couldn’t help but note that he must have been in a good mood, and perhaps ending things at his office again hadn’t been as bad as he’d worried.

“Not for lack of trying,” Theo murmured. He felt his eyes slip shut as Wren kissed his earlobe, and then travelled down to his shoulder. He set the comb down on the counter to intertwine their fingers together, and he tilted his chin up to better receive Wren's attention.

And then Theo shivered, an unpleasant sensation snaking down the length of his spine as Wren knowingly brushed his lips against his ticklish spot. Instinctively he jerked away from Wren’s touch, only to wince as a shock of pain lanced through his neck. He closed his eyes and stepped away, as if it would absorb some of the discomfort, just as a wave of nausea overtook him, and he felt blindly for the countertop, placing his hand on it unsteadily as he used it to ground himself.

Fuck.

After a moment he glanced up at Wren, before turning his back to him and shakily picking the comb back up. He preferred not know if Wren had noticed. He would be worried, he would insist on staying in and resting some more. Instead, Theo groaned theatrically.

“If I go back to bed now I won’t get up,” said Theo, as if that were an excuse. He could have gone back to bed, truthfully. The pain killers would kick in soon, and another couple hours of sleep would have helped. But judging by Wren’s wandering hands, by his breath in his ear, warm and needy, sleeping wasn’t on his mind. He was in no shape for sex, so with regret Theo hoped look genuine, he smiled apologetically into the mirror.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure I still reek of alcohol. I can’t remember the last time I drank that much. That’s the one and only time I let you take me to a play that shitty!” He said, laughing (perhaps too loudly). He hoped he could distract him. He didn’t like saying no to Wren, but he liked it even less when he worried. Blaming his reluctance on his hangover was much simpler.

“I think a walk would help. Or maybe a massage? There’s a spa downstairs, and it really seems just what we need right now.” Theo smiled, and turned to face him properly, standing on his toes to press a chaste kiss to his jaw. It felt like kissing a statue.

“I’ll call down to see if they can fit in a couple’s massage.”

Wren hadn’t wanted to go for a walk, or get a massage. His mood seemed to sour even further after mentioning he’d picked up breakfast for them, and Theo admitted he’d already eaten (good thing, too, as the meal Wren had picked up violated at least 5 different rules of his diet. Something Theo had regretfully tried making a joke about when he should have just kept quiet). He asked Wren how the office had been, and Wren had said it’d been fine. And that was that. He’d then gone off for a shower, and Theo left him to it.

He needed someone to beat him up.  

Theo returned an hour and a half later. He felt immeasurably better, and instead of stiff and in pain he felt like warmed honey. Or maybe a tenderized veal cutlet was a more appropriate simile. The masseuse hadn’t held back (and Theo had 'forgotten' to mention he had MS), and he’d had what felt like every muscle in his body mechanically tenderized. His skin had been rubbed with oils and creams and he felt like a newborn baby. Even better, his drugs had kicked in, and he felt ready for a lie down – hopefully Wren would be okay with it. Smelling of sandalwood and still wearing the robe from the spa, he gently closed the door to the suite behind him. It dark, and only after a few seconds of searching did he find Wren in bed, wrapped up in the duvet with the curtains drawn.

Theo set his bundle of clothes down on the bench at the foot of the bed, and then lifted the covers and crept in next to his boyfriend. He exhaled slowly as he eased himself down. The mattress felt as soft as a cloud, and he wrapped his arms around Wren’s middle. His skin felt amazing – soft and warm, silky smooth.

“Wren,” Theo whispered. He craned his neck up, only to see that his eyes were closed, thick lashes dark against his skin. Sighing in contentment, Theo settled down next to him, pressing his face in between his shoulder blades in what had become their familiar napping position.

He was fast asleep before he knew it.

Theo slept for a blissful three hours. At 2:30 his alarm went off, and Theo reached for his phone to turn it off. He wrapped his arms around Wren, relishing how the feeling had returned to his hands as he ran them up Wren’s stomach to settle at his chest. Nuzzling just behind his ear, Theo pressed a warm, soft kiss to his neck.

“Wren,” Theo whispered in his ear. “Time to get up. Scotty’s expecting us soon.”  

If Wren had to chart his mood that morning on a graph, it would have peaked here, in the bathroom of this ridiculous hotel, with his arms wrapped around his half-dressed boyfriend (fiancé? He wasn’t sure how much Theo remembered), nuzzling a line of kisses up his arm and across his shoulders.

And then it would have fallen, as sharply as the move Theo made to pull away from him. It took a moment for him to realise what had happened, another to interpret the signals he was receiving. Theo flinching, turning away, that fake smile and too-loud laugh. His flimsy excuses and attempts at distraction. He hadn’t yet figured out the why, but… he knew a rejection when he saw one.

Maybe he had misread the signals, he thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time. So he reached out to take Theo’s hand, to tell him he didn’t care what he smelt of, that they had the whole day to themselves, but he was already twisting out of his way, pressing a kiss to his cheek that should have been a sweet gesture, but felt like a placation. He hadn’t misunderstood anything. Theo didn’t want him, not right now. He couldn’t say he blamed him.

Theo also didn’t want breakfast, or even to stay in the room, but Wren didn’t want to go out again, so they were at a crossroads. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but each small rebuff felt like a twist of a knife, and he was upset with himself more than anything for not being able to shrug it off. He knew what he must have looked like, spoiled and petulant and sulking, and he hated himself for it. While Theo bustled around, getting ready to leave, he picked at the breakfast he’d bought (now more room temperature than warm, and significantly less appetising than it had been twenty minutes ago) until he couldn’t stand watching any more. Mumbling an excuse, he headed for the shower and shut the door behind him. That combined with the water was enough to drown out any noise from the rest of the suite, and he took a moment to close his eyes and rest his forehead against the cold marble tiling the shower wall. A part of him wondered what it would feel like to bash his head into it, hard enough to crack open. If it would be a relief. If all of his shitty thoughts and feelings would come pouring out. Maybe the pain could be the distraction he was looking for.

He clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to hurt. This was too much.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent in the shower, but when he came back out into the bedroom the suite was empty. Theo had gone, either for a walk or down to the spa. Wren spent a couple of minutes trying to decide what to do. He could get dressed and try to find him, but honestly, he didn’t feel up to leaving the room. While the shower had helped, it was only by a small margin; his body felt better but his mind was still churning up black thoughts that the water hadn’t been able to drive away. He tried to watch some television, but couldn’t concentrate, and eventually wound up back in bed with the curtains drawn and the duvet pulled all the way up over his head.

At least he couldn’t make things worse in bed.

Wren must have been more tired than he’d thought. When he woke up, tugged out of sleep by the murmur of a voice, a gentle kiss, a trail of fingers brushing across his chest, it took a moment to realise he must have fallen asleep. Fleetingly, he wondered how long he’d been asleep, as he turned his head, then his body, to face Theo.

“Hi,” he said, voice groggy, reaching up to touch Theo’s cheek. It took him a moment to remember what he was talking about, and when he did he found he didn’t care. The sunlight through the curtains behind him, filtered through his bed-hair, gave him a kind of glow, and his skin was warm and soft. He leaned forward to kiss him, hooking a leg over him to tug him closer. He even smelt warm, rich and musky. Wren wanted to melt. Sliding a hand down to his waist, he buried his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deeply.

He’d needed the rest, and Theo looked much better too. Maybe they’d had a crap morning but the afternoon didn’t have to be as bad.

“We can be late,” he whispered into his shoulder. “Scotty won’t mind.”

It was something they’d done countless times before, show up late or cancel last-minute because they’d been too wrapped up in each other—a testament, he thought, to just how strong their feelings for each other were. So when Theo pushed away, his hands braced against his chest, Wren’s first thought was that he must have still been dreaming. Only this didn’t feel like a dream.

He watched mutely as a surprisingly dextrous Theo slipped out of his hands for the second time that day, and then out of bed, with a joke about how he cared. Wren didn’t laugh. He could only stare. It was like Theo had been possessed by a stranger. He didn’t recognise this man fussing around in front of him, who looked so much like his boyfriend—who had his mannerisms and spoke with his voice, but acted so unlike him.

“Theo...” he started, wanting to say: I really don’t want to go out again, but at the look on his face, the words died in his throat. There would be an argument, and he couldn’t handle it. Reluctantly, he got out of bed.

Scotty was waiting for them when they got out of the cab, looking exasperatingly fresh-faced. He held the car door open for them and helped Theo out, then gave them both a quick hug before ushering them upstairs to his studio via a big industrial elevator that sounded, worryingly, as though it was on its last legs.

In spite of his reluctance to leave the hotel, Wren was grateful to see him. The car ride over had been weird, partly because his head felt like it had turned to molasses, but also because he was sure Theo was… not annoyed with him, exactly, but also not happy with him. He’d spent the whole ride talking at him about nothing in particular, like he’d been trying to fill a gap. Wren had wanted to meet him halfway, but he didn’t know how. Scotty’s presence provided a welcome buffer.

While he gave Theo the tour, Wren perched on the edge of a table housing a sewing machine and watched them circle the room. They were both animated, Theo excited and Scotty eager to show off, and all of a sudden he felt very out of place. Overcome with a desire to do anything other than watch his two best friends enjoy spending time without him, he pulled his phone out and immediately regretted it. He had a few texts he’d accidentally-on-purpose been ignoring—one from his mom, asking how he was, and the rest from his colleagues. Shit. Former colleagues.

Katie
Wren, Carina said you came by this morning? Why didn’t you stick around? I wanted to say goodbye! 🙁

Angie
Wren!! Can’t believe we missed you!! Please say you’re around for a while longer? We should meet up for drinks before you go!

Then another one, sent to a newly-created group chat:

Angie to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
This is probs easier
Wren when do you leave??
It would be really nice to see you before you go

Katie to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
Yes!!

Will to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
 👍 👍  👍 

Wren’s stomach dropped as he scrolled through the messages. He should reply to them, but he didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to see them. They were his friends. But the thought of seeing them under these circumstances—of saying goodbye again—made him feel sick. It was so tempting to just keep on ignoring them, but he owed them a reply at the very least. Chewing his lip, he started to tap out a response.

Hey guys. Sorry for missing you this morning. Let me check my schedule and get back to you. It would be great to

“Who’re you texting?” Scotty’s voice made him jump and almost drop his phone. He hadn’t heard him or Theo approaching from the other side of the room, which was pretty impressive considering how loud they both were.

“Just some friends from work,” he said, stowing his phone. He could text them later.

“Oh, Will and the girls?” said Scotty. “Theo was saying you went to the office today. They must have been sad to see you go.”

“Yeah. Well. I’d already left by the time they came in,” said Wren, already uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going.

“Wren,” said Scotty, in a tone he didn’t like. “You’re seeing them before you go, though?”

He shrugged, defensive. “Maybe. We’re so busy...”

Scotty rolled his eyes at that, folded his arms and shot Theo a can you believe it look. “Come on, man. You can’t be that busy, and you don’t know when you’ll have a chance to get together again.”

He was right, of course he was. Wren hated him for it.

With a sigh, he held up his hands in surrender and made a show of getting his phone out again.

Wren to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
Hey guys, sorry to miss you this morning. We’re here until Saturday morning and have most evenings free I think. When are you guys available?

“Happy?” he asked, and Scotty gave him a smug smile.

Half an hour later, his phone buzzed.

Will to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
HE SPEAKS

Angie to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
Hey!!!
Sorry we were in a meeting
This may be crazy but how about tonight??
There’s this new cocktail bar a few blocks from the office I’ve been dying to try out

Will to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
YES
Whoops caps
My ultimate frisbee match got canceled so I was looking for something to do

Katie to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
I’m in!! Does tonight work Wren?

He looked up, gaze moving between Scotty and Theo, who were laughing over some joke he didn’t hear and probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. After the first couple of times they’d tried to include him in the conversation, which had largely revolved around gossip about current events in the fashion community, they’d largely given up. On the one hand, he had been banking on a quiet dinner followed by an early bedtime. On the other, he thought he could use a drink.

Clearing his throat, he said, “They want to do this evening, That okay with you?”

The cab ride to Scotty’s felt like a breath of fresh air. The hotel, though lovely and homey, had felt stifling after their morning vedge, and Theo was ready for a change of scenery. Perhaps it was his massage and nap, but he suddenly felt excited to revisit some of his old haunts as the taxi nudged them through the streets of Manhattan.

“There’s where the Kenmare used to be. Oh my God, my mom hated that place. You should have seen her face when she tried their scallops. Fuck, it was funny … She looked like Renee Zellweger before she had all that work done. Oh, and there’s Bistro Pierre Lapin. You would like their brunch – they have croque madames that are to die for. We can go tomorrow - I’m so glad it’s still open. I was worried they’d close because the last time I was here they were digging up the water mains and the whole street was a mess.”

Theo shot a grin towards Wren, who didn’t seem to be paying him much attention.  He decided to reassure him that it was a place they ought to drop by.  “Must have been the coffee that saved them – they have the best coffee in Manhattan.” 

He was fixated on the streetscape as they crawled through the streets of Manhattan and all the controlled chaos it offered. Yesterday it had felt stifling and exhausting – too much, too quickly - most likely exacerbated by the duress of the plane ride. Now, in the sunny chill of the September afternoon, it felt like a much needed breath of fresh air.

The cab stopped in front of a large, pre-war industrial-type building. Scotty was already out waiting for their arrival, resplendent even in a plain white t-shirt with a pair of exquisite looking sunglasses clipped over the collar.

He greeted them enthusiastically. Through the windows of the cab Theo peered up at the statuesque building in absolute awe, before allowing Wren to scoot out before him. He held out a hand expectantly, waiting for Wren to take it, only to watch him drift away, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets and staring at something captivating on the sidewalk. Theo felt a frown settle over his face as Wren wandered off without him, before slackening the muscles in his face into a neutral expression. He settled one hand beneath him, while the other grasped his cane, clumsily finagling it out from the cab and onto the hard pavement. With an exhale and a whinge of complaint coming from his stiff bicep and abs, he tensed up to stand, before another hand darted quickly out before him. Surprised but grateful, Theo smiled up at Scotty, accepting his offer of help graciously.

They hugged, and when it was Theo’s turn, Scotty complimented his cane. Wren seemed more stiff than usual, and much more cursory. Theo couldn’t help but notice that it was nothing like last night, where Wren’s touch had lingered after their hug and he’d seemed genuinely happy to see Scotty. Now, his body language was different, with his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders stiff and raised to his ears. As they began to walk, Wren pointedly hung back, leaving Theo to his own devices. He paused, anxiously staring up at the concrete steps up to the building’s entrance, hesitant to embarrass himself.

Just as he was about to reach out for Wren’s arm, Scotty intervened. Again, Theo found himself smiling appreciatively up at him, making a self-deprecating joke about his gait and accepting his offered arm warmly. He was grateful for his mindful pace as they took the steps. Scotty reassured him that there was an elevator, though it might be too early to thank him. Even still, Theo laughed as shot a glance over his shoulder at Wren, who was trailing behind them.

And he frowned. Wren hadn’t said more than a few words since their departure from the hotel – which even by Wren standards, was strange. Regrettably, for the first time that day Theo wondered how his trip to the office had been. He hadn’t asked, but in his defense Wren had seemed fine when he’d gotten back that morning. More than fine, in fact, judging by his wandering hands as Theo had attempted to get dressed in the bathroom. He’d seemed positively relieved, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Well, if he was truly upset, he’d make it up to him tomorrow. While Wren had been sleeping that Saturday morning, Theo had done more than just book plane tickets.

The elevator doors opening was enough to get him to stop worrying. Theo and Wren followed Scotty out as he theatrically gestured towards his the high ceilinged studio, bidding them both inside. And what was there made Theo gasp.

“Scotty – what the fuck! You failed to mention that you were a big fucking deal.” Theo exclaimed rather loudly as he traversed through the hallways that had formed through the controlled chaos of Scotty’s studio. There were forms here and there dressed in extravagant costumes, a backdrop with some rather expensive looking cameras ornately positioned around it, and draped up across the back wall, away from the damaging sunlight, was some kind of ornate tapestry. As he drew closure he found that it was supposed to be a garden, or a meadow of some sort. And when he got close enough to see the detail, the fine hand-embroidery and the ornate fabric flowers, Theo felt speechless.

“This was my thesis project.” At Scotty’s voice, Theo glanced over his shoulder, before directing his attention back to the tapestry. “The craftsmanship is phenomenal apparently, but the concept could have used some work. Or so said my profs.”

“Scotty, this is beautiful,” said Theo, coming in close to examine how he’d done the flowers. There were ribbon hydrangeas, small, dotted forget-me-nots, and bright, flowering petunia. From a few feet away the colours and textures came together to form a beautiful garden, but up close, Theo was able to pick out the careful detail that had gone into each and every petal.

“Wren, doesn’t this look like the garden behind my house?” Theo asked, while still staring at the work of art. He looked up at Scotty, smiling. “My favourite flowers are goldenrod, which I know is a weed … But also foxgloves, Oregon Irises, dogwoods … You should see the bouquets Wren’s made me. They’re wonderful.”

At the lack of any kind of noise from Wren he turned around, only to see him on his phone, slouched listlessly against a sewing machine. Theo’s face fell, and he looked up at Scotty, who decided to ask who Wren was texting.

“Work friends?” Theo asked, looking from Scotty, and then back to Wren. He recalled some of Wren’s colleagues from Facebook, commenting on that picture from their first date.

Scotty scolded him for trying to ignore them, and Wren reacted like he would to Robin. A grimace and a stubborn set to his jaw, and he’d gone back to his phone with a resolute grimace. Theo had wanted to laugh, but Wren’s mood had put a damper on the afternoon. Something seemed off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.

“We’re not that busy,” Theo thought to point out. Hell, they’d barely left the room until three o’clock that day. But Wren didn’t look too pleased to hear him pipe up, and instead directed his attention back to his phone, wordless tapping out a response and then putting it away.

The rest of the afternoon had otherwise been entertaining. Scotty seemed to enjoy showing Theo some of his older stuff from school, as well as his works in progress. He got to see some of the rejected Honey! costumes up close and personal, and he told Scotty he preferred them more than the ones which had made it to the show, which seemed to be the right thing to say. Scotty went so far as to lift one of the Queen Bee’s intricate silk robes off its form and right over Theo’s shoulders. Clasping it to his chest, Theo took a few theatrical steps towards the grand floor to ceiling mirror towards the back wall, admiring the way the loose sleeves billowed as he moved despite his stiff arms, the rhythmic sway of the tassels hanging from the fringe. While it looked a bit ridiculous over his button up and marmalade-hued cashmere sweater, the piece was wonderful. It was glamorous, it was colourful, and it made him feel absolutely ridiculous and stunning. He broke out into a poor rendition of the queen bee’s last song, reducing himself and Scotty into a fit of laughter. He told Scotty he was proud to be the inspiration behind the character of Three-Zero.  Scotty then told him Wren had mentioned he was a fan of his dad’s and presented him with a few vintage De Villiers tie pins.

One was even a tiny honey bee, which nearly made Theo giddy. 

His glee was tempered somewhat as he tried to show the pin to Wren, who only offered him a cursory glance from his phone, and then cleared his throat. His work friends wanted to meet up tonight. Theo paused – it seemed like very short notice – but then nodded, and smiled encouragingly.

“Yeah. Sounds fun!”

He was wrong. It was not fun.

As they said their goodbyes to Scotty, it seemed like an immoveable wedge of silence had forced itself between them. Theo had asked Wren where the cocktail bar was – he didn’t want to end up in some trendy dive in Brooklyn – and the answer he’d received was I know as much as you do, Theo. Had he done something wrong? Was Wren upset with him? He furrowed his brow and watched how he’d shoved his hands into his pockets and clenched his arms to his side. In the end he’d been forced to google the name to fetch the address in order to call an Uber, which would turn out to be an equally silent, awkward car ride.

Things didn’t improve much once they got to the bar – which was thankfully in Manhattan, but already busy and very noisy. Once they were through the vestibule they’d had to push their way through throngs of people crammed into the narrow bar, and Theo had held onto Wren’s arm with a death grip as he was pushed this way and that. It was only with a small amount of relief that they finally approached their table, only to find three vaguely familiar people sitting at it. One of the women – Angie, he thought - shrieked when they saw them approach, bounding up to Wren with surprising agility considering the tight skirt and three-inch heels she wore, and pulling him into a hug. The other two followed suit, and quietly, Theo backed off a little, watching the reunion with a small smile. He realized then that he hadn’t really considered what exactly Wren was leaving behind. How he’d thought it had just been a job, and not … This.

The way Wren was smiling, it wasn’t like any smile he’d seen before. His face seemed to light up in a direct contrast to how he’d been all afternoon – dour and brooding, compared to the elation he seemed to display now. He wondered for the first time if Wren was making the right choice, leaving all of this behind.

But he didn’t get the chance to dwell for too long, since finally Katie had noticed him.

“You must be Theo. It’s so nice to finally meet you. We’ve all been wondering about the guy who managed to steal our Wren away,” she said. He shook her hand, then Will’s, then accepted a hug from Angie.

“He’s cute! Well done, Bruiser,“ Angie said to Wren when they pulled apart, and Theo laughed, surprised not so much by the comment as he was as by the nickname.

“Bruiser? Where did that name come from?” Theo asked, feeling a little out of the loop.

The three laughed simultaneously, and Wren looked … Well, he wasn’t really sure. He still had that indescribable look on his face.

“It’s a long story,” said Will, with Angie cutting in. “One of our clients from years ago had this reportedly stubborn, intimidating pit bull he named Bruiser. And after he saw Wren work his magic on this really tough negotiation he started calling him Bruiser because he reminded him of this dog.”

“You had to be there,” supplied Will, and Katie nodded, before Wren flagged down a server to take their drink orders. He took a seat next to Wren, unaware and unprepared for what he would have to endure over the next two hours.

“Theo?”

He blinked, gaze focusing on the assembled waiting faces before him, before making eye contact with Katie, who had apparently asked him a question. He looked at her inquisitively, before she smiled encouragingly. Theo thought to himself that she would have made a fantastic litigator.

“I asked how you two met,” Katie repeated, before glancing at Wren.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Theo said, staring at his half full glass of wine. He thought for a moment, before shrugging and glancing at Wren. “It’s kind of a funny story.”

The last three hours had crept by painfully slow, with the conversation rarely straying from office gossip or client drama. A partner had left the firm, a few associates had been fired, an inter-office romance had gone wrong and had resulted in a lawsuit. Theo had felt left out, which under normal circumstances would have been fine. These were Wren’s friends, and he was happy to be out with them. But … He couldn’t shake the feeling that Wren seemed to dislike having him here. He thought he’d been imagining it at first – maybe he hadn’t meant to look dismissive every time Theo tried to change the subject, or frustrated whenever he opened he mouth. He tried to convince himself it was just the poor lighting, or the mashup of noise disorienting everything. But there was no mistaking Wren’s eye roll when Theo had mentioned who his mother was, which was the one piece of information he had that might allow him to participate in the conversation. It was enough to quiet him, and Theo spent close to two hours completely silent, nursing the bad pinot noire he’d ordered.

There was one thing he was sure of: he’d never seen Wren so animated, so engaged in a conversation. He was like a different person entirely - posing questions rather than simply answering them, riffing freely on Will when he admitted to spelling a client’s name three different ways in a contract. He wondered if it had something to do with the drink in Wren’s hand being his fifth in the three hours they’d been there – curiously, a white Russian every time. He had no idea Wren drank white Russians – and worse, all the lawyers seemed to only drink doubles. He wondered if it was the company; if it was more stimulating than what he’d grown used to in Cannon Beach.

“I knew his sister from college, and we ran into each other when I first moved to Oregon,” Theo finally explained, falling back into the old lie they told when people ask how they met. “Wren came over to help me catch this feral cat I’d been trying to trap for weeks. We barely knew each other at the time, but he still showed up. And he helped me, instead of making fun of my predicament.” Theo paused, thinking back to that day. Where Wren had been vulnerable and quiet - hurting and raw. Theo, for his part, had been lonely and bitter. He hadn’t expected anything like romance to blossom that morning.

“Violet – that’s her name -  she scratched him really badly, and I ended up having to patch him up.” He left out the part about Michael showing up. He left out of the part about Wren ghosting him for two weeks.

He thought about how the two of them had barely touched that entire evening. How they’d been off the entire day.

“And the rest is history,” Theo concluded, conjuring up his best Ronstadt smile. Radiant, and warm like artificial grow-op lights.

“That’s so sweet,” said Katie, smiling at Wren endearingly. Theo looked away, unable to watch the fallout of his half-lies. He then felt a long arm wrap around his shoulders and tug him in closely for the first time that night, the press of lips against his temple. Theo shut his eyes, sinking into the sensations, both familiar and alien. He needed to speak to Wren, privately.

The night continued on. Theo was sure he was the only sober person present, and as the alcohol consumption increased so did the noise coming from their table. Conversely, the attempts to include him in the conversation decreased accordingly, and Theo sat on the end of the banquette, tired and bored and anxious to go home.

For all his boredom, he was able to focus his attention on Wren. And the more he did, the more concerned he became. While his behaviour this night was entirely new, there were some elements that were similar to Saturday night. Namely, Wren’s possessive arm draped around his body, fingers edging at his waist. His other hand gripped tightly around his empty glass, his body rigid, his movements weird. How earlier, he’d just wanted to stay in bed. The feel of his breath against his neck, as he held Theo close.  

Wren excused himself to get another round, and Theo waited a few seconds before doing the same, grabbing his cane with the excuse that he needed to use the bathroom. Instead, he navigated his way towards the bar, where he found Wren trying to get the attention of the overworked bartender. He squeezed his arm, in an attempt to lead him to the less crowded corridor that lead to the washrooms.

“Wren,” Theo began, uncertainly. “We have a long day tomorrow, do you think another drink is a good idea?”

Theo paused. His hand drifted down his arm, and interlocked their fingers together. He gripped Wren’s hand in his, and then squeezed in a way he hoped seemed reassuring.

“Are you okay? You seem a little … Off.”   

“You know, I kind of didn’t want to come.”

The confession slipped out of his mouth unprompted, a whisper into the chill of the evening which seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had formed. For a moment, Wren wasn’t sure if he’d even said it out loud, except Katie tilted her head towards him, breathing out a thin column of smoke.

“You didn’t want to see us?” she asked. There was something cautious in her tone, like she was worried about the answer. Wren shook his head, a little too quickly, then had to stop when it made him feel dizzy.

“No. I mean, I didn’t not want to see you,” he said, trying to explain. “It’s just. It’s not the same.”

“Is that why you left this morning?” He looked away, back at the door to the bar, letting his silence answer for him. Not that he needed to. Not that she’d needed to ask.

Katie sighed, offering him the cigarette with a nudge of her elbow. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it, shooting her a quick smile.

“This is my first one in months,” he said.

She paused, already lighting another, to give him an incredulous look. “No way.”

He shrugged. “It was easier to quit than have the fight with my family.”

“Oh my god. Cold turkey?” He nodded, and her expression changed from awed to horrified. “And now I’m re-corrupting you. I’m so sorry.”

He waved a hand, brushing off her concern. “It’s okay. One won’t kill me. Though Robin might, if she finds out.”

“Really? She strikes me as a smoker.”

“She used to in high school,” he said, taking a drag. “I think it was more to piss off our parents than genuine enjoyment.”

Katie laughed. “Sounds like Robin. Do you remember the last time she came to visit? I’d never seen you so on edge before.”

Wren made a face. “Don’t remind me. She reorganised my entire apartment and made me eat so much kale I thought I was going to turn green.”

Katie laughed and Wren smiled and they both took a pull on their respective cigarettes, lapsing into an easy silence. Wren had always liked this about spending time with Katie—how they could just appreciate a quiet moment together. Unlike Angie, who hardly ever stopped talking, or Will, who always had a joke to crack if there was ever a lull in the conversation, Katie never felt the need to speak unnecessary words. It was something they had in common and one of the reasons they got on so well.

After a moment, he felt her lean against him, heard her breathing start to hitch. When he looked down at her, he saw her wiping her eyes.

“Katie?” he said, she she shook her head, pre-empting his next question.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Sorry. It’s just that… I don’t know. I guess I’m going to miss you.”

“We’ll stay in touch,” he said, but she just looked down, fixing her eyes at some point on the ground. He couldn’t blame her. He sounded unconvincing even to himself. They hadn’t exactly stayed in touch the first time around, which, to be fair, had been entirely his fault—but even if he made more of an effort, they both knew it wouldn’t be the same.

Empty platitudes were the wrong thing. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. She pressed her face into his chest for a moment or two. Then they broke apart, finished their cigarettes, and went back inside.

Primed with the realisation that this probably would be the last time he saw his friends for the foreseeable future, Wren made a decision to enjoy it instead of let it ruin his mood. After another round of drinks, that became easier, and soon he found that he didn’t have to think about it; he was genuinely having a good evening.

It helped that Angie and Will were both on top form, recounting story after story about clients and colleagues he’d all but forgotten about, reminiscing about cases they’d worked on months or even years ago. Even when the subject of his replacement came up, he managed not to let it bother him. (It certainly helped that none of them had anything good to say. “Last week, he microwaved a tuna sandwich in the kitchen. Twice. I swear to god I nearly threw up just to make a point.”)

So he didn’t know exactly when he forgot Theo was there—didn’t realise he’d forgotten at all, until Katie asked how they’d met. Theo, unusually quiet, looked distracted, maybe even upset, and all of a sudden Wren with an overwhelming sense of guilt that he’d just been totally ignoring him all evening. Listening to him recount how they’d met, the story of trapping Violet, shook out a memory of that afternoon, clear and vivid. Breathless laughter. The sting of disinfectant. Theo’s hand on his chest, supporting his weight, and how close they’d been. At the time, he hadn’t been sure if he’d been imagining the spark between them. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without Theo.

He chewed his lip. The feelings of isolation and rejection threaded through the memory of that day seemed so trivial now. The retelling of their first real afternoon together reminded him of everything he loved about Theo—his warmth, his light. About how he made him feel. Safe and heard and loved. He’d come with him all this way, arranged everything, tried to support him when he’d been at his lowest point, and Wren had been so focused on himself that he’d forgotten all of that.

Forgotten what mattered.

Katie was right. Theo was sweet. Wren pulled him into a hug, channelled all his love into a kiss, pressed to his temple, and resolved to do better.

He couldn’t believe he’d been worried about coming out tonight. He’d been so anxious about so many things, but being here felt like he’d been placed into suspended animation, given the gift of a few hours where everything felt okay, where things were normal and how they should be. Despite his absence for the past few months they’d all fallen back into their old dynamic so naturally it was almost like he’d never left. He liked that assurance. Some things were constant, like after-work drinks to unwind.

It was his round again. He’d lost track of time a little bit—again, totally, blissfully normal—so when Theo appeared by his side, pulled him away from the bar, his first thought was that something was wrong, and he was relieved when it turned out that Theo was just concerned that it was getting late. Concerned about him.

He smiled at him, squeezed him back, before raising their intertwined hands to brush his lips over Theo’s fingers.

“I’m fine,” he said, and he meant it, too. He was fine, somehow, to everybody’s surprise. Better than fine.

He’d had to stoop to hear him over the background noise and their sudden proximity seemed so wonderfully intimate. On impulse, he slipped his hand free and raised it to Theo’s jaw—traced a line down to his chin and tipped it upwards, leaning in to press his mouth against Theo’s. He kissed him deeply, cupping his jaw, his other hand at his waist, pulling him closer. He meant it to show his gratitude, to let Theo know how much he appreciated him being there, checking up on him, making sure he was okay.

So when Theo pulled away it came as a shock. It took him a moment to figure out what had happened. One second his hands had been full, but the next they were empty. Warmth turned ice cold. And the look on his face, worse than the fake, empty smile that had been haunting him all day. He was angry, Wren realised.

For a brief, blinding moment, Wren was angry too. And then the feeling evaporated, leaving only despair.

“What did I do?” he asked, his arms dropping to his side. “All day… you’ve been pushing me away all day.” He knew how he sounded, too loud and almost pleading, the alcohol making it hard not to trip over himself, but he’d built up too much momentum to stop. “I just. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. Why everything’s different today. Why don’t you want me any more?”

Theo regarded Wren skeptically when he said that he was fine. He swayed a little as he said so, and Theo arched his brow as he watched Wren lift his hand to press his lips against it, remaining entirely unconvinced. He didn’t seem to be listening to him, or picking up on the fact that Theo clearly wanted to leave. He looked unsteady, and his focus seemed a little off. His smiles were coming a little too easily, his vision seemed a little dull. Theo chewed his bottom lip, trying to figure out what to say next to get Wren to come home with him. 

They had a long day tomorrow: that was a fact. The easy part would be cancelling the various appointments he’d made to hopefully cushion what would undoubtedly be the difficult process of sorting through Wren’s old life. The hard part would be dragging a hungover Wren to Queens, and getting him to make any meaningful decisions regarding what he thought he needed to keep. They only had a few more days here, and beyond today their schedule was comfortably busy. Moving across the country didn’t seem like a task that should be procrastinated.

But the bar wasn’t the best place to be worrying about this – the music coming from the speakers was somehow drowned out by the din of chattering happy-hour seekers, which made it all the more difficult to think.

Wren stepped forward and smiled dreamily at him, touching his chin to lift his face. Instinctively Theo pulled away a little, furtively glancing back to the bar to make sure they were out of view of the other bar patrons. He didn’t like PDA in places he was unfamiliar with. Surely Wren knew this by now. He also wasn’t particularly in the mood to kiss Wren anyway – he was annoyed with him, and hurt by how he’d been treating him the last couple hours. He felt like he needed some time to reacquaint himself with this new – old? – version of his boyfriend, who was beginning to feel like a stranger. The Wren who wasn’t kind and thoughtful. The Wren who apparently was a smoker.  

He felt his hand sliding up his jaw, his other hand circling his waist.

“Wren –” Theo started in warning, but before he could stop him, Wren was pulling him into a kiss. Theo clenched his eyes shut tight and waited for it to be over.

But Wren didn’t seem hurried. He felt him pull him into his embrace, and Theo tried to resist. Tried to signal that he wasn’t in the mood. But with Wren’s touch at his jaw, his lips on his, he realized the message wasn’t getting across. This wasn’t a cute, chaste kiss stolen in a moment of privacy. It was needy, it was intimate, and it was making Theo feel deeply uncomfortable. His mouth tasted of cigarettes and alcohol, and his hand was at his waist, insistent. Theo stumbled as he was pulled closer to Wren’s body, suddenly overwhelmed by the toxic smell of smoke clinging to Wren’s clothes.  

His hand was up against Wren’s chest before he’d realized, the other gripping his cane. Theo felt himself push Wren away, and then he was taking a step back, face hot. Everything seemed too loud, and he felt like the eyes of everyone in the bar were on them.

He looked up at Wren, whose expression was one of deep hurt. He hadn’t expected him to be upset. Wren was respectful of Theo’s limits – usually. But he was drunk, and listening to Wren now, the way he tripped over his words, the genuine note of pain in his expression. This was something more, something entirely out of the blue, and completely unfair.

He wasn’t having it.

“What are you talking about,” Theo demanded, trying to keep his voice low. “You’ve been a complete and utter asshole to me ever since we left the hotel.”

His voice shook as he said it. He hadn’t really realized how upset he was until he saw the injured look on Wren’s face. It suddenly dawned on him then that his feelings, and what he wanted, didn’t seem to matter in the face of Wren’s silent, complicated emotions. Wren could neglect him, treat him carelessly and thoughtlessly, and he just had to take it. No – it was more than that. He had to be understanding.

He was angry. And the position Wren took, like Theo had been neglectful of him, wound him up tighter.

“God, Wren! You haven’t said a single word to me all night! You haven’t so much as looked at me without rolling your eyes until you got drunk and decided to like me again. So no, I don’t really feel like making out with you in front of your friends. I just want –“

He just wanted to go home. But there was movement at his side, and Theo whipped around to find Katie, with her pretty face all crunched up in concern, placing her hand possessively over Wren’s arm.  

“We should get the bill. It’s getting late --” She started, but Theo cut her off, tone biting.  

“What a wonderful idea.”

He walked off. He wasn’t going to go back to the table. He didn’t want to make niceties with Wren’s friends – work colleagues – and pretend like it was nice to meet them. Like he was sad to see them go. He left Wren and Katie and the others to settle up and stalked off to the front of the bar, navigating with no small amount of difficulty through the crowds of drunk professionals. His  coat was where he’d left it, hanging on a hook by the front door. He tried to get it over his arm, before a man from a nearby table who’d obviously watched him approach jumped from his seat with an offer of help. He thanked him curtly, before exiting into the cold September night.

Where it was quiet. Or at least, relatively so. The sidewalks had emptied save for a few huddled smokers, but the small, tree-lined street the bar was on was still packed with cabs and ubers. He tried to take a moment to calm himself down – focus on something else other than his anger. That was when he made poor decisions, and said things he later regretted. He needed to do up the zipper to his jacket, which seemed like a good enough task considering the chill in the air, so he leaned against the side of the building for balance and propped his cane between his knees, clumsily grasping the two sides of his jacket while simultaneously trying to maneuver them into the zipper.

It wasn’t working. His fingers were too stiff. His co-ordination was way off. There were too many complicated tasks to complete at once. Theo bit his lip, resting his weight against the brick wall, trying to hedge off the knot of frustration forming in his stomach. He knew he was overcompensating for his tremor, overshooting the zipper by a few inches every time, but he didn’t know what else to do.

He exhaled then, shutting his eyes tight.

You’ve been pushing me away all day, Wren’s slurring, pleading voice reminded him. He sincerely didn’t know what Wren meant by that. They’d had plans with Wren’s friends all day. They were to meet Scotty. Theo had been flexible when Wren had mentioned drinks with his former colleagues. Maybe he could have checked in with Wren when he’d gotten back to the hotel, but he hadn’t seemed to be in the mood to talk. And neither had Theo, to be frank but … He’d even asked how the office had been. He’d tried, fuck. He could only ask Wren so many times if he was okay – and as evident by how Wren acted when he wasn’t okay, asking did little to help. But he wasn’t a mind reader. And he couldn’t – wouldn’t be one. Not again.

Familiar voices came from bar’s entrance, and Theo straightened a little, tried to organize himself. He wanted to hang back, but there was more in the air than just the awkward otherness he’d felt while in the bar. There was a buzzing, some kind of irritating thing pulling his shoulders tight, that he just couldn’t shake. He saw Wren emerge, who looked appropriately dishevelled. Theo knew he probably had been looking for him, and decided it was better to make his presence known now, rather than to make it awkward later. He stepped forward and gave Wren a cursory glance, before lighting up with a smile, shaking Will’s hand and giving Katie and Angie a one armed hug. They all parted, ducking into various cars. Until it was just him and Wren.

He took a moment, before nodding towards Wren. They had more to talk about, but he didn’t want to do it here, in the street. He was worried if he said anything else to Wren, that anger he’d been trying to shore up would slowly seep through the cracks in the dam.

“Can you order an Uber?” Theo asked. He knew how cold he sounded, but he wasn’t really in the mood to pretend he wasn’t angry. It was time to go home. He didn’t care what Wren thought – the night was over.

He watched as Wren pulled his phone out of his pocket, and should have noted how clumsy his movements were. He should have known he probably would have been better off than Wren handling electronics at his current point of inebriation, poor motor control and tremor aside. He watched in seemingly slow motion as the phone slipped out of his fingers, and clattered onto the sidewalk.

“Wren!” Theo exclaimed, exasperation edging his voice. He couldn’t help it. Wren stooped to pick up his phone, and with dismay Theo saw that the screen had shattered. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten even further, and he knew now that the outburst that was forming was too big to stop. Ordinarily, the problem a shattered screen presented would seem small – just an inconvenience. Now, it seemed like the world was collapsing.

“For fuck’s sake,” Theo swore, and then looked up at Wren, gesturing sharply at the shattered phone. “Honestly, Wren, is this going to be a regular thing? Getting fucked up and drunk whenever you have a bad day? Just do me a favour and tell me if this is what my life is going to look like. I don’t know what to do at this point."

Wren faltered. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but not this. Theo was right, of course. Wren had been in a foul mood since they’d left the hotel, and he’d acted badly. He’d been upset, mostly at himself but, yes, partly at Theo, first for not wanting to stay in bed instead of going out, then for backing Scotty up at his studio. And while he hadn’t meant to take it out on him, obviously he had. The fact it hadn’t been deliberate didn’t make it any better.

He’d thought he’d held out an olive branch, though, with his kiss, but the way Theo put it— you got drunk and decided to like me again—stung worse than anything else. It made him seem callous and capricious. Is that what Theo thought? Had he been feeling like that this whole evening? He thought he’d been a little quiet, but not unhappy. How could he have missed this?

His face flushed hot, and he reached out his arm, wanting to take a hold of Theo’s hand and apologise. But before he could, Katie appeared, interrupting and, he knew, intervening. And all of a sudden, Theo was walking off.

“Wait,” he started, but he had already disappeared, melting into the crowd without a trace. Katie tugged on his arm, and he looked down into her concerned face.

“Hey,” she said. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. Seeing him flounder, she gave him a brave smile and pulled on his arm again. “Come on, let’s go find him.”

But Theo wasn’t anywhere to be found. Not at the bar, or back at the table, or weaving through the throngs of people filling the bar. Wren thought that maybe he’d just missed him, but the place wasn’t that big, and he still hadn’t emerged after a second sweep.

“Do you see him?” he asked Katie, desperate. The expression on her face told him everything he needed to know, even before she shook her head.

“You’re welcome to crash at mine tonight,” she said kindly. He didn’t know how much she’d heard, and she was too tactful to say, but it was clear that she’d arrived at the same conclusion he had. Theo was gone. He’d left him here, on his own, because Wren had driven him away. And she’d heard enough of the fight to think that Theo wouldn’t want him to go back to the hotel.

Was she right? He really didn’t know. He didn’t want to believe it, and the last time he’d thought that (had it really only been a few days ago?) it hadn’t been true, but this was so much worse. He’d been given a second chance and thrown it away. He didn’t know if Theo would be willing to grant him a third.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, trying and failing to sound grateful. He didn’t want to spend a night on Katie’s couch. He wanted to rewind time and stop himself from fucking things up again. He wanted Theo.

She squeezed his hand and he followed her back to the table, where Will and Angie were poring over the bill with the calculator app open on Angie’s phone. If they realised something was wrong, they didn’t let on, even when Angie insisted they cover him and he didn’t have the energy to argue. He hovered nearby while they pulled on their coats before following them to the door. Katie looped her arm through his, a gesture that he appreciated, because he had lost the ability to focus on anything other than the dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Should he go back to the hotel, try to apologise, or not? Was it better to give Theo the space he clearly wanted? He didn’t know what to do. Every decision seemed like the wrong one.

So he should have been relieved when Theo joined them at the front door, materialising out of the darkness as though he was made of shadows himself, but all he felt was that dread, pulsing and suffocating. He broke away from Katie abruptly, almost guiltily, but if she noticed she didn’t say anything. Theo plastered on an almost convincing smile and said his goodbyes, and Wren did too, hugging his three friends in turn with vague promises to stay in touch. Katie lingered for a moment, like she had something else to say, but seemed to decide against it at the last moment.

“See you soon?” she asked. Wren nodded, though they both knew it was a lie, and then she climbed into a cab and he was alone with Theo.

They stood there in silence for what seemed like forever, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Wren wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t trust himself to speak. Everything he did, everything he said, just made things worse, and he wasn’t going to be able to conjure up something now to fix it.

Finally Theo broke the silence, clearly still angry, and Wren fished his phone out of his pocket to open up the Uber app. He tried to unlock it, but dropped it instead, and watched as it slipped out of his fingers, hitting the corner of the curb with a crunching noise that couldn’t have been anything good. His stomach churned as he picked it up. The screen had shattered, a spider’s web of thin, fractured lines radiating out from the impact point. His face stared back at him from every fragment, reflected in the glass.

He looked like shit.

The sound of his name made him wince, and he squeezed his eyes shut as Theo berated him, every word more cutting than the last, adding pressure to his chest that seemed to squeeze his windpipe closed. He felt paralysed, stuck in place and numb. He couldn’t look at Theo, not even if he wanted to, but he could feel his cold gaze boring into him, demanding an answer, and as his fingers curled around his useless phone he suddenly felt the need to launch it into the street, destroy it and his hundred faces for good, then follow suit.

Instead, he shoved it back into his pocket and sat down on the curb, pulling his knees up against his chest and resting his forehead against them, clutching at his hair. It was pathetic, he knew, but he couldn’t do this any more. He should have stayed at the hotel, like he’d wanted to. Maybe Theo would still hate him but at least it would have been uncomplicated, not like this.

“I thought you’d left,” he whispered. It escaped out of him, slipped out of his mouth in between breaths, and suddenly he couldn’t stop. “I thought you left and I didn’t blame you. You’re right. I am an asshole and a fuck-up and you deserve better.”

His voice was thick and wavery and there were tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he hated himself for it. “I just… I just wanted to feel normal. I had a really shitty day and it felt like you didn’t want me around, but… it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

He took a deep, shaking breath, and dropped his hands to wrap around his legs, digging his nails into his jeans.

“You don’t have to put up with me. I understand. I can find somewhere else to stay. I’m so sorry.”

He wished they could go back to the night before. Before the play, before Scotty and Katie and the rest of the Deloitte crew. So far, he’d only really enjoyed himself those scant few hours in the hotel room with Wren, where they’d done little more than nap and talk and then dance in the comfort of each other’s arms. When Wren had laughed when Theo had lead them into a slow box-step, the way his voice cracked when something took him by surprise. The way they’d held each other close, in the soft privacy of their hotel room. Wren resting his cheek against the top of his head, and Theo nuzzling into his chest. 

His heart ached when he thought of that evening now.

He wished he’d never run into Ben the night before. Seeing him had conjured up so many bad memories which only now served to remind him how little he’d changed since moving away from New York. He’d thought he’d grown. He’d thought living on his own and starting new had erased the worst of his bad behaviours. As he was learning now, Oregon hadn’t done much to calm his hair-trigger temper. He hadn’t learned any conflict resolution. He hadn’t learned how to better communicate his needs, or listen to the needs of his partner.

His relationship – if that’s what you could call it – with Michael had at the very least taught him how to self-advocate. He’d felt empowered to communicate his boundaries, to draw thick lines in the sand that dictated how he expected to be treated. That came about mostly due to their age difference and Theo’s financial privilege, with Theo knowing he could withhold not only affection, but gifts, whenever he felt slighted.  The relationship hadn’t been healthy, with a pretty obvious power imbalance to those not only within the relationship but without. But it had been brief and helped his self-esteem, which had been somewhat lacking at the time.

He didn’t want to subject Wren to any of his past baggage. He knew this - but it was a steep learning curve. Normally during Ben’s emotional meltdowns Theo had learned to remove himself lest he get sucked into the eye of the storm. When Michael had an immature outburst, Theo grew dismissive. And for a scary moment, he found himself adapting both those tactics as Wren sunk onto the pavement, impassively watching as Wren folded into himself, pressing his forehead into his knees. As if Theo was the threat.

It didn’t help.

“Of course I didn’t leave! I came to this fucking city with you, didn’t I?” Theo asked, though he knew it wasn’t really a question. He could hear it his voice as he paced the sidewalk – he sounded exasperated and impatient, but there was more he wanted to say. He wanted to ask Why do you always you think I’ll bail on you? And then, even worse: Why do you not trust me? He wanted to shout it, so Wren would hear him; so the couple on the other side of the street listening knew that this argument wasn’t his fault.  He wanted to vent his frustrations with the day out loud, so he could hammer some kind of recognition into Wren’s inebriated brain.  

Why couldn’t he just be upset with him and not have Wren take it like it was the dying blow to their relationship? Was it something he was waiting for?

But as he paced, as he removed his hand from where he’d pushed his fingers into the deep curls of his hair, and tried to calm himself once again, the frantic energy behind his anger seemed to fizzle as he watched Wren folded into the side of the road,  defeated and hurting.

His anger – the yelling, the clenched teeth and the tense gestures. The pacing. The guilting. God – he knew who he reminded himself of.

He felt just like his father.

And suddenly, it just felt awful. He felt sick just thinking about it.

He exhaled slowly, his breath shaky as it pushed past clenched teeth. Feeling just … Deflated and empty on the inside, Theo slowly approached Wren, and after a moment, placed an unsteady hand on his shoulder, using it to settle himself down onto the sidewalk beside him. It was an ungraceful move, and he winced as he landed heavily onto the pavement, sending a painful shock through his spine. Shakily, he tucked his cane in between them, shifting a little to take some of the pressure off his back. And then he sat there, unmoving for a moment as he tried to gather his thoughts.

When he glanced at Wren, he studied the way his fingers gripped his legs, the whites of his knuckles showing. The shuddering of his breaths. His chest tightened. 

He hated that he’d done that.

Unthinking, he slid his hand through Wren’s, intertwining their fingers and unlocking the iron hold Wren had on his leg. He didn’t want him to feel like he was alone. He didn’t want him to feel any of the bad thoughts racing through his head. But clearly, he’d been doing a poor job at that.

“I don’t want you to go anywhere,” Theo whispered. “And I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to talk.”

He stared at him closely and squeezed Wren’s hand, as tight as he could, just to make sure that Wren believed him.

“You’re not an asshole,” Theo said then. “And you’re not a fuck-up. I need you to know that.”

His voice came more assured, this time. He angled his body towards Wren’s, so his knee touched his shin. He hated that Wren thought that about himself. He hated that he thought Theo was just putting up with him. He hated how he’d gotten angry enough to call him an asshole when he should have been better. When he’d been trying to be better. When Wren had been so kind to him last night, just as he always was. 

God. He was a piece of fucking work. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

“I thought maybe seeing Scotty would have made up for how bad your morning was,” Theo said, needing to defend himself. He’d only done what he would have wanted Wren to do in his place. But now, he wasn’t sure if it had just made things worse – or if Wren had been having a good time and he’d made things worse.           

“I didn’t mean to push you away this morning,” The started, haltingly, staring at the asphalt before him, littered with dying leaves and cigarettes butts and flyers for nearby bars. It was easy to talk at the ground - it was embarrassing to admit he’d been hungover. Even more so that he’d been too drunk to properly take care of himself. “I felt awful after last night, and I didn’t even remember take my meds so it was just … Not good. I was in a lot of pain.”

He recognized now how he may have seemed dismissive. He hadn’t meant to, and the bad thought that crossed his mind then was that maybe he just wasn’t equipped to give Wren what he needed.

He shut his eyes, shaking it away. He’d tried to make up for it. He really had.

“I just … I don’t think I know what’s going on with you half the time. I feel like I’m always guessing, or trying to read your mind or something. And then when I get it wrong it seems like everything goes to shit. And it’s just …” Theo trailed off, biting his lip. 

He felt Wren shift, and Theo directed his attention towards him as he lifted his face. To Theo’s absolute dismay, he saw that his eyes were wet, the ring of red appearing brightly against the blue of his iris, lip up by the lights coming from the bar. He couldn’t believe he’d been the one to make him cry. He’d never wanted to – as if that fact counted for anything. He grimaced then, his mouth straightening into a thin line as he resolved not to follow suite.

Theo reached out with a shaking hand, brushing his thumb across his cheek. He left his hand around Wren’s neck, fingers fanning across his skin. 

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t enough.”

Theo wasn’t shouting but Wren winced anyway, digging his nails into his legs until he felt them biting through his jeans. He wasn’t shouting, but he was angry at him all the same, and the worst part was that he had every right to be. Everything he said was correct. He had come here with him. He’d done so much for him, unasked, and Wren had thrown it back into his face.

He’d known this would happen. He had known that Theo coming with him to New York was a bad idea and he couldn’t believe he’d ever dared to think that it might turn out okay.

He didn’t see Theo approaching, so the hand on his shoulder came as a surprise. Flinching, mostly—but not entirely—out of instinct, he braced himself for the rest of the onslaught, the firm-but-kind talking to he was sure was coming, which he didn’t think he could bear.

Instead, Theo lowered himself down next to him and grabbed one of his hands, wrenching it away from his knee. Wren should have found the gesture reassuring, wanted to find it reassuring, but he couldn’t. It felt uncomfortable. Wrong. Theo was talking now, quiet and emphatic, but his voice sounded distant, like they were in a crowd and he was speaking to someone else while Wren hovered nearby, eavesdropping. The things he was saying seemed directed at somebody else too.

You’re not an asshole.
I don’t want you to go anywhere.
I need you to know that.

Wren nodded mutely, even though his words contradicted everything which had just happened, even though he knew it wasn’t true. He understood that Theo was trying to help, but nothing he was saying made him feel better. He’d just been trying to cheer him up, and Wren had treated him like shit. That morning he’d been feeling awful—not just hungover, but actually in pain—and Wren hadn’t even noticed. Theo spoke like he was trying to justify his actions, but he had nothing to explain or apologise for. All Wren was hearing was that this whole day Theo had only been trying to look after him, but he’d only been able to focus on himself. He didn’t know why Theo was trying to spin it otherwise.

He was struggling to come up with a response to all of this, something more substantial than just another apology, when Theo dropped his bomb.

Wren felt the point of impact, felt the fractures spread out throughout his body, shattering him into a thousand different pieces like the stupid screen on his stupid phone or boiling water poured over an ice cube. His first thought was that he’d known, he’d known that it was too good to be true. When he’d met Theo, gotten to know him, he’d thought he’d been different, not just because he was charming and confident and interesting, but because of the way he’d looked at him, how he’d treated him, like he was something whole. He’d thought that for the first time in an awfully long time—possibly the only time—he’d met someone who’d understood him completely.

Once he’d thought of Theo being the missing piece of a puzzle which represented his life. Now he was finding out Theo was a piece from a different puzzle completely. He knew there was no malice, that Theo hadn’t lied to him, but it felt like a lie anyway. Maybe he was overreacting and this wasn’t a big deal, or Theo had misspoken or he had misinterpreted something, but he couldn’t act like it didn’t hurt. It hurt so much.

He shuddered and raised his head from his knees, intending to wipe his eyes, when he felt the cool touch of Theo’s hand on his cheek. Glancing over, he swallowed, hard, trying to hold back the tears threatening to overspill. The look on his face hurt, too, almost as much as his apology.

Reaching over to grab Theo’s wrist, he squeezed, meeting his eyes.

“You’re everything,” he whispered.

If he didn’t know that, things were even worse than he’d thought.

It should have been an instant of connection. If his life had been a movie, he would have kissed him, and they would have been okay. Instead, after a moment, before Theo could respond, Wren withdrew his hand and glanced down at his lap, at his faded jeans and the frayed hem of his second-hand hoodie. All of a sudden, a flush of embarrassment ran through him, for his clothes, his behaviour, for thinking this thing with Theo could possibly have been more than it was. He looked across at him and away again, avoiding his gaze, and tugged his sleeves down over his knuckles.

“Can we go home?” he whispered, feeling pathetic, and but at least Theo seemed to be on the same page on that front.

While he got his phone out to call a taxi, Wren slipped his own phone out of his pocket. He couldn’t tell if it had switched off with the impact or if it was totally fucked. For a moment, it flickered, and he could make out a text message from Katie which he only managed to read the first few words of before his screen died for good. He shoved it back into his pocket, sighing, before settling in to wait for the cab.

Luckily there had been one a block or so away, so it didn’t take too long for it to arrive. He helped Theo up and into the back seat, before crossing to the other door and sliding in too. After he buckled his seatbelt, he rested his head on the window while Theo confirmed where they were going. A minute or so after they’d set off he felt a nudge against his hand and glanced down—Theo’s fingers, posing a silent question. He answered by turning his hand over, palm-up, and Theo took the invitation.

By the time they reached the hotel he felt a little calmer, if nothing else. He couldn’t resent Theo for his own failings, and he just wanted him to be okay. Maybe they were on different pages, he thought, but maybe that wasn’t so bad. They could still love each other, even if it meant different things.

They held hands all the way up to their room, and it was almost normal.

Upstairs, with the door shut behind them, they let go of each other, cautiously falling into a familiar routine. Theo asked if he wanted anything to eat, and he said no. He poured out a glass of water and helped Theo into the bedroom, then got undressed while Theo took his pills. Once they were done, he knelt down in front of him and helped him tug off his sweater, pulling it over his arms, then his head, laying it down carefully on the bed. Then he began to undo his buttons, starting from the one at the top, neat against the hollow of his throat.

His fingers slipped once, then again, and a third time, fumbling and clumsy, like trying to pick up a penny glued to the sidewalk. The button seemed almost insubstantial, always slipping through his fingers no matter how close he got to a firm grip, worse and worse the more he tried as though it was feeding off his frustration, and Theo was watching him now but he refused to look at him, refused to meet his eyes or acknowledge his concern, because he knew how this looked, how completely and utterly fucking useless—

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, rocking back and gripping at his hair. He felt sick, but he couldn’t tell if it was because he’d drunk more than he’d thought or because the broken parts of himself had started to drift apart again.

He forced himself to take a breath, to sit backwards, and he wanted to look up at Theo but it seemed impossible so he fixed his eyes on his hands instead, gripping his knees, retreating inside himself where at least it was safe.

“Sorry,” he said, distant, dull, watching himself through a dirty window. “I’m sorry. I think I should go to bed.”

Can we go home?

Wren’s question, posed to him softly and barely audible over the din of traffic, with the dull shine of tears clinging to his lower lashes and his voice low and thick with resignation, echoed through his mind as the cab drove them back to the hotel. With Wren’s hand in his, their fingers intertwined, Theo stared straight ahead at the once familiar view of the graffitied plexiglass that separated them from the driver, feeling the beginnings of an exhaustion headache settle just behind his eyes.

How he wished the driver could take them home. To his home, back in Cannon Beach. He felt the unfamiliar pang of homesickness, something he hadn’t experienced since his first year at boarding school, and for the first time that night -- possibly for the first time ever -- he wondered if Wren felt the same.

He glanced at his boyfriend, where he sat seemingly as far away as possible from him, the expanse of the middle seat feeling so much more like a divider than it had any right to. Theo watched him stare out the window, eyes glued to the passing buildings and still busy streets of the city. Wren had never spoken of his life in New York – of friends, of the places he haunted, of his old job. He used to wonder why (perhaps not as much as he should have), and now, after getting a taste of the life Wren had kept so secret, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. They held hands, and Wren’s leg even brushed his – yet he’d never felt so far from him.

Wren hadn’t wanted to talk about what had just happened. It had been their first fight - the first time Theo had gotten angry with him. Wren hadn’t wanted to talk – never wanted to talk. Since the events of Saturday night Theo thought he’d become well acquainted with this fact, but now he found himself tasting the ashy remnants of words unsaid. Theo had so much more to say. He’d had so much more to apologize for, and so much more to inquire of Wren. It felt like he’d been interrupted mid-sentence, and the conversation had changed topics and carried on without him.  Yet his boyfriend was sealed up tighter than a dam, the one thing he’d been able to say a heartbreaking you’re everything. His chest tightened at the memory – tears glistening in his eyes, his fingers grasped around his wrist. Theo knew he’d been sincere. That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that it had sounded like a betrayal. Like Theo had ruined everything by losing his temper.  

The cab pulled into the hotel, where the doorman attending out front dashed forward to open first Theo’s door, and then Wren’s. Theo paid the driver with his card, and accepted Wren’s outstretched hand to help him out. At least Wren had listened to him, Theo thought. It felt like the victory he needed, the fact that he’d stopped ignoring him, like something good had come out of the fight. Despite his silence, it was comforting that Wren wanted to hold his hand, and Theo squeezed back reassuringly.

The feeling remained once they got to the room.

“Do you want anything to eat?” he asked while Wren drifted off to drop his wallet and key card onto the coffee table. Wren declined, and Theo reasoned it was probably for the best, and it was just better to go to bed. A glance at his watch confirmed it was nearing midnight, which was argument enough to begin making moves. He opened the bar fridge to take out a box of Copaxone, and Wren helped him into the bedroom, where they separated. He’d felt his left side slowly seizing up throughout the night, and by now it was becoming unpleasant. He needed his meds. He needed some sleep. He needed to put this night behind him.

In the bathroom, Theo filled up a glass of water from the tap and retrieved his pill organiser from his travel bag, popping open the lid and dumping the contents of Tuesday PM into his palm. He swallowed each one separately between tentative sips of water, shutting his eyes in displeasure as he felt each one snake down his throat in thick lumps. With that taken care of, Theo felt a small weight lift off his shoulders. He’d at least feel a little better in a few minutes. He brushed his teeth and washed and moisturized his face, and despite his undereye bags and dry skin, felt much better.

Wordlessly, Wren helped him undress once he left the washroom, and Theo felt a breath of relief escape him as he did so. Wren was always careful with him, and he felt comforted by the fact that this hadn’t changed. They would be okay, Theo thought to himself, as Wren held his sleeve taught for Theo to slip his arms free. The gentle way he lifted the hem of his sweater up and over his chest. He lifted his arms as high was he was able, and with a few sparks of static electricity and a ruffle of hair, he was free.

When Wren started on his buttons, Theo stepped a bit closer to where he sat on the bed, nudging himself between his knees. He realized that since they’d left that afternoon, they’d hardly touched, or been able to take a moment to check in on the other. But here, in the privacy of their hotel room, they could enjoy a much needed period of intimacy.  He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he lifted his chin to give Wren better access to his shirt buttons.

But … Something was wrong. He felt the tension in Wren’s muscles, the tiny infinitesimal jerks of frustration detectable only because of the proximity of his hands to his throat. Theo opened his eyes to look at him, where the frustration was written clearly on his face.

“Wren …” Theo began, about to lift his hands to lay them overtop Wren’s and tell him it was okay, he could do it himself, when he cursed loudly and sharply pulled away.

Theo flinched, instinctively backing off. His heart had jumped firmly into his throat, where Theo could feel it hammer against his chest, making it hard to speak. Heat flooded his face and he shut his eyes, wanting to apologize for asking for his help, wanting to tell him it was okay.

Instead, he was silent.

He opened his eyes when Wren began to speak, unable to manage more than a quick glance at him before directing his attention to the hardwood floors. He had that same look on his face – the one Theo had now seen countless times before, the one where he’d retreated so deep into himself, he had no chance of hearing what Theo wanted to say.

It hurt.

“I’ll…” Theo paused as he heard something in his voice shake. He swallowed, before trying again.

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” he whispered, before retreating to the bathroom, shutting the door gently behind him. For a moment he relished in the privacy the bathroom offered, leaning against the closed door. He turned, and as quietly as possible, pushed the button in the doorknob to lock it.

He didn’t want to cry. He didn’t want Wren to know he was upset, since it would just make things worse, and then they’d have more things to not talk about. More things unsaid brewing between them, more things for Theo to worry over and not be able to talk about with the man he trusted and loved most in the world. Instead he took a deep breath and closed the lid to the toilet, where he sat down to begin the arduous task of undressing himself.

He started with the bottom button, slouching over and resting his shoulder against the wall as a surface to ground himself against. The precise amount of force and minute twisting required to slip the button through the hole was not easy to gauge, but it was made simpler when he was able to see what he was doing, and stop some of the shaking in his hands. However, once he was halfway up, his fingers had begun to grow sore, the numbness snaking up into his wrists. By the time he reached the button second from the top, he’d had to stand to look into the mirror. All he saw was his shaking hands. The way his body swayed when he tried to focus on a task that diverted his attention from simply balancing to stay upright. Slowly, and perhaps painfully, he got the first button undone. The top button was the hardest, but eventually, he managed.

It had only taken ten minutes, but he’d managed to do it by himself. He tried to think of it as a victory, but he struggled to feel much of anything. Which Theo thought was a gift in itself.   

He only had his injection to do, but it was perhaps the one thing he needed Wren’s help with the most. He knew he couldn’t ask him, and given how much Wren had drunk, it would have been unwise anyway. With grim determination Theo washed his hands in the sink, before opening the Copaxone box and withdrawing its contents. He sat back down on the toilet, choosing a good spot on his stomach and swiping the alcohol pad over it. Giving the needle a small shake, he uncapped it and breathed.

It had been a long time since he’d had to inject himself without Wren’s help.

Pinching the spot between his fingers, Theo manoeuvred the syringe into position. It was hard; he was exhausted, and his fingers were less responsive than usual. Holding his breath, he jabbed the syringe in and immediately felt a sharp stab of pain. Clenching his teeth together, he pushed down on the syringe, holding it in place for a few seconds before pulling it out. Almost immediately, blood began pooling on his skin.

“No no no,” Theo whispered, twisting to frantically gather up a wad of toilet paper to press to the spot where blood was now collecting in earnest, just in time to stop it from staining the waistband of his pants. He pressed down hard and gasped as a shock of pain lanced out. Tears sprung to his eyes, and before he could stop himself, before he’d even registered that it was happening, he was crying. Silently, his shoulders shook as he curled into himself, one hand pressed over his stomach to stop the bleeding, the other clamped over his mouth to quiet himself. It hurt so much. Everything did – not just the botched injection. The fact that he couldn’t support Wren, not when he was like this. When his body made everything more difficult than it was supposed to be. It hurt that Wren couldn’t talk to him. That he didn’t even try. It hurt that everything they had built together – the trust, the affection, the love between them – all seemed to come crashing down at the smallest of provocations. It hurt that Theo felt so overwhelmed and alone, despite the fact that Wren was just a few feet away.

He cried until his cheeks stung from the salt, until his throat and chest were sore, until the tears stopped flowing and the only sound that come from him was his laboured, shaky breathing. And even then, it took a few minutes to calm down. When he did, he stood and made sure the bleeding had stopped. It was red and swollen, but at least there was no blood. Shakily, he glanced at himself in the mirror, where he noticed the redness of his eyes, the rosiness of the tip of his nose. Without much thought, Theo turned on the tap to splash cold water over his face, and patted himself dry. He blew his nose quietly, and then ran his fingers through his hair to neaten it. Finally, he shut off the light, confident he’d cleaned up all evidence of what had just happened, and slipped into bed, wrapping his arms around Wren and resting his forehead in the space between his shoulder blades.  

Where he slept like the dead.

His alarm finally managed to wake him at ten o’clock, and Theo reached over clumsily to turn it off. With some difficult he rolled over to check if Wren was still in bed with him. He wasn’t, which was not unusual. Even back in Cannon Beach Theo usually slept in a few hours later than him, and would typically find Wren on the couch, reading or watching television. It happened more often than not that Theo would wake up and spend a few hours relaxing with him (while also waiting for his meds to kick in) before starting the day.

Theo got out of bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress for a few moments to try to gauge how he was feeling. The answer to that was … Not Amazing. The back of his throat tickled, and his head felt a little bit like it was full of water, but that may have been explained by last night’s crying episode. His body felt a little like he’d been hit by a truck, but again, he figured it must have been because of two late nights in a row. Vowing to get some more sleep tonight, Theo stood, ambling stiffly to the washroom where he took his morning meds, dumping out the contents of Wednesday AM. After using the washroom and brushing his teeth, he walked back to the bedroom and pulled the top blanket off the bed, wrapping it around his shoulders and making his way into the main room, with the intention of joining Wren in whatever activity he was doing.  

Wren was on the couch as expected, but he was asleep. Theo frowned as he hovered in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. The television was on, with the volume down low. Wren had brought a pillow out with him, and had pulled out an extra blanket from the linen closet. It didn’t seem like he’d woken up sometime that morning and then drifted asleep – he must have slept on the couch all night.  It couldn’t have been more comfortable than the bed, which meant Wren had preferred to sleep on a couch rather than share a king size bed with him. Worry sparked, and Theo found himself thinking that Wren was upset with him.

Unsure of what else to do, Theo perched on the side of the couch, staring at his sleeping boyfriend anxiously. He didn’t stir, and Theo couldn’t help but notice how exhausted he looked. He wondered if he was hungover, and decided then that he wouldn’t ask. He did look peaceful for once, thick lashes dark against his skin. The couch wasn’t long enough for all 6’-4” of him, but it was rather deep, and could have been comfortable for someone shorter.  

Wren shifted, but didn’t open his eyes. Theo felt his hand reaching for his, and he looked down to see Wren threading his fingers through his own. Theo smiled, feeling his anxiety drift away, and he squeezed back softly. He reached out to touch his face, fingers gingerly tracing the cut of his jaw.

“Did you have trouble sleeping?” Theo asked, voice just above a whisper. When he didn’t respond, Theo folded his other hand on top of Wren’s.

“Thank you for thinking of me and letting me sleep. I think I really needed it,” Theo whispered. His smile grew a little as Wren told him it was okay, his voice whispered and hoarse. He didn’t sound like he was ready to get up yet, and Theo couldn’t blame him, not when a hangover was sure to greet him.  

They needed to go to Queens to clear out Wren’s storage unit, but Theo figured it would only take a couple of hours. As long as they were back in Manhattan for dinner, what did it matter if they had a later start to the day than intended?

Gingerly, Theo lay down beside Wren. Once he was comfortable, he draped some of his blanket over his chest, resting his head on his shoulder and burying his face into the crook of his neck. He draped a leg over Wren’s, and held him close, exhaling contently. This was what he wanted, and he pressed a kiss to Wren’s neck to tell him so, and then another to his jaw. They could put last night behind them; today would be a newer, better day.

Theo was there and then he wasn’t. The bathroom door locking behind him was deafening in his wake, a confirmation of his worst fears.

Wren sank to the floor, numb. Theo shutting him out had taken all the air with him. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, as his mind turned over the facts.

He’d fucked up, again. Badly. So badly Theo had felt the need to lock himself away. He’d seen him flinch away, heard the tremble in his voice before he’d gotten up. Like Wren had scared him. Was that better or worse than disappointment? He didn’t know. All he knew was that they’d had something fragile, and he’d broken it, and Theo didn’t want his help. He didn’t want his presence at all. He didn’t want him, which shouldn’t have been a surprise.

They both knew he was just going to make things worse.

Wren took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed himself up off the floor. Mechanically, like somebody else was controlling his body, he switched on Theo’s bedside lamp and switched off the overhead lights. Then he stood there for a moment or two, before climbing into bed and pulling the covers all the way up, as far as he could, as though the extra layer could cocoon him away from the rest of the world, help him metamorphose overnight so when he woke up he would emerge as a better person. The thought made him want to laugh, and also cry, so he squeezed his eyes shut and curled his hands into fists, concentrating on the pain of his nails digging into his palms instead.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before Theo came out of the bathroom. He felt like he ought to say something, that maybe Theo would have wanted him to, but he didn’t know what there was left to say that hadn’t already been made clear. Theo didn’t want him, not for the parts which mattered, and he was fucking useless. Both of those things were known already. He had nothing else to add to the conversation. He couldn’t make it better. And even though Theo did all the right things—slipped into bed next to him, wrapped his arms around his middle, pressed his face into his back—Wren knew that maybe he couldn’t fix it either. Theo was just playing a part, exactly the same as he was.

It didn’t take long for Theo to fall asleep—that was real—but Wren lay there for a long time, silent and unmoving, unable to stem the constant drip of dark notions filtering through his mind and clouding his thoughts. Eventually Theo rolled over and he took the opportunity to sneak out of bed and into the living room, taking his pillow with him.

He’d always had trouble sleeping, to varying degrees, ever since he could remember. When he’d been a teenager his mom had even made him go to their family doctor, who had suggested a few things to try, but had ultimately chalked it up to a phase he’d grow out of eventually. Well, it had been fifteen years and he was still waiting. It had gotten better since he’d started seeing Theo, but the trip to New York had seemed to trigger whatever caused the problem again. Experience had taught him the best way to combat it was to get out of bed and occupy himself for a while until he felt sleepy again.

Normally he’d read, but the books he’d brought were back in the bedroom, and he didn’t think he would be able to concentrate on anything anyway, not while he was still kind of drunk. Instead he grabbed a spare blanket from the hall closet and sank into the couch, switching the TV on and turning the volume down as low as he could while still being able to hear it. The last thing he wanted was to wake Theo up.

He settled back into the cushions, pulling the blanket around him, and watched the picture on the screen for a few minutes, some B-movie from the 90’s with no budget and less plot. Unable to focus, he reached for his phone, which he’d optimistically left to charge on the coffee table. He ran his thumb over the fractured screen, before holding down on the ‘on’ button. To his surprise it flickered to life. He even had some messages, and they were even legible. He scrolled through them slowly.

Katie
Hey, are you okay?
The offer of a couch to sleep on is open. Don’t worry about the time 🙂
Let me know x

Mom
Hi honey. Just checking in on you. I hope you and Theo are having fun in New York. It would be good to catch up. Call me when you can? Love, Mom

Angie to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
I’m hoooome!!
Wren it was so nice to see you and meet theories
fuck Theodore
THEO
If you’re free on Friday we should do a proper dinner!!

Will to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
lol

Katie to DRINKS DRINKS DRINKS
Go to sleep guys!! 8AM start!!

Scotty
So?? Did you guys have fun tonight? 😉

He should reply to them—to Katie, at least, he knew she’d be worried—but typing on the cracked screen was too hard. Instead he lay down on the couch and reread the messages once, then again, and once more, until he’d practically memorised them. It was silly, but they helped, each one a little reminder of the world outside their hotel room, like a hand reaching out to let him know he wasn’t alone, even if he felt that way. When he put his phone down again, he felt a little better. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

On screen, a pale woman pulled a gun out of her handbag and pointed it at a man. Wren changed the channel and landed on a documentary about a team of people who claimed to have discovered the location of Atlantis. He was pretty sure he’d seen it before, but he rested his head on his pillow and tried to pay attention anyway. Just as the man on screen was about to reveal where Atlantis was on the map, the program cut to commercials. By the time they ended, Wren had fallen asleep.

He was half-awake when Theo found him, and half-asleep when he reached for his hand, slipping his fingers out from under the covers to search for another source of warmth. It was instinctual, not deliberate; the haze of sleep obscured his memories of the tense night they’d had before, and maybe if he’d remembered he wouldn’t have tried, but before it had occurred to him to doubt himself, Theo had already taken his hand. It was the best feeling in the world.

He should get up, he thought, then didn’t. Theo asked if he hadn’t been able to sleep, and he let out a quiet mmmm, or thought he did, but he couldn’t be sure. Theo thanked him for letting him rest, and he told him it was okay. His mouth was dry and his throat scratchy, and there was a pressure in his head that seemed vaguely ominous, but they seemed like distant problems, things to worry about later. He shifted over a bit, or tried to, anyway, as Theo lay down beside him, and draped an arm over him, under his blanket, slipping his hand under his t-shirt to splay a hand across his back. Theo’s hair was in his face, and he breathed in as deeply as he could, and returned Theo’s kisses with one of his own, pressed to the crown of his head.

This felt good. More than that. It felt right. Being here, together, entwined, the affirmation that they were still a team, still a single unit. So why was he still so fucking sad?

Wren screwed his eyes shut tighter, afraid, suddenly, that he might start to cry. None of this was real. That was the problem. They could pretend all they wanted, and he did so desperately want to pretend, but the things they’d left unsaid last night were still there, and they could ruin everything at any time.

The thought of spoiling this perfect moment was almost too much to bear. But if he didn’t, something else would. It was better if it came from him.

He allowed himself a minute to enjoy the embrace, before pressing his cheek against Theo’s forehead and letting out a shaky breath.

“Theo,” he whispered. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry for not noticing you were in pain, and for how I treated you, and for scaring you last night. I’m sorry I’m not… not easy to talk to, and that I never know what to say. You’re always here for me, and I wasn’t here for you. I should have been. I promise I’ll do better.”

He opened his eyes to meet Theo’s, gave his back a little squeeze. He wanted to smile, but this was too important. “I love you so, so much. More than I knew was possible. I’m sorry I haven’t been acting like it.”

It was easy to forget the events of the night before when Wren shifted over, giving Theo just enough room to lay down beside him on the couch. When Wren exhaled slowly, turning his body to receive his embrace. He made him feel needed. When his arm circled his waist, he made him feel wanted. When he pressed a sleepy, sweet kiss to the top of his head, he made him feel loved.

So it was this easy. Wren didn't hate him for what Theo had called him out of anger the night before - a drunk, an asshole. When Wren's voice echoed him sadly in agreement. A fuck-up. You deserve better. Theo hated himself for succumbing to the secret pit of anger that resided within him. That pulled his muscles tight and broiled in his belly - he thought he'd grown past the need to make those he loved feel as terrible as he did. He thought he'd somehow evolved past the genes his dad had stuck him with.

He nuzzled into the crook of Wren's throat, feeling the scratch of his unshaved neck brush against the tip of his nose. The sofa was really too small for two men, yet he didn't want to move. It was the first time in days he felt remotely close to him, after the hangover and painful muscle spasms of the morning before, the excitement of visiting Scotty in his studio, and the aggravating night at the bar. Now, despite having just woken up, his muscles felt heavy, his head foggy and unclear, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep in Wren's arms.

And he nearly did. The sound of Wren's breathing lulled him back to grey space just before sleep, timed with the rise and fall of his chest. The only background noise was the muted sound of traffic and the hum of the air conditioning, and he felt his eyelids grow heavy in the warmth of Wren's embrace. He wanted to stay here, just like this. Just a little longer. Just until he felt a little better.

Wren's shaky exhale pulled him out of near-unconsciousness, and his name, carefully whispered like a secret, had him holding his breath. He could feel his forehead creasing as Wren spoke. The apology came as a surprise. His voice came softly, just barely audible, scratchy and catching in his chest. When he began to apologize, Theo squeezed his eyes tight, a small part of him wishing he'd stop.

Part of it made him feel bad. It wasn't his fault he hadn't known about Theo's pain - he hadn't told him - rarely told him, in fact. Theo kind of preferred it that way. He hadn't meant to scare him, either. It had just happened. But Wren apologized for being difficult to talk to. He apologized for never knowing what to say. These were the things that had Theo’s breath catching in his throat, his mouth pulling tight in a grimace as he promised to do better.

He didn’t want to cry.

Theo exhaled slowly and squeezed his eyes shut, as he felt himself being transported back to the night before. Ever since waking all he'd wanted was forgive and forget - to move past the feeling of sitting in the backseat of the cab after their fight, Wren distant and silent beside him. When Theo had been startled by Wren's outburst - to his shame and embarrassment. Crying in the bathroom alone, tears mingling with the blood on his fingers, the blood smeared over his stomach. Sobbing over Wren's unwillingness to talk to him. Sobbing over what felt like irrevocable damage to their relationship. He'd felt lonely. He’d felt abandoned.

Without meaning to, Theo had wrapped a fistful of Wren's t-shirt around his fingers, which he clenched tightly to his chest. Finally, he looked up as Wren told him he loved him. The expression on his face was deadly serious, and Theo stared at him, trying not to look as dazed as he felt. Like the poignant apology and the man it came from were somehow incompatible. He believed him - he'd known Wren loved him, but hearing him say it, the way he spoke now like he'd never been so sure of anything else in his life – was something else entirely. And as Wren apologized for the final time, told him that he loved him, Theo could feel his eyes welling up with tears. He knew it was something he needed.

"I love you too," he whispered, but it seemed painfully inadequate for how he felt. He wanted to melt into him, to somehow chase the feeling of complete and utter closeness he felt for Wren in this moment. The best he could do was wipe his eyes against Wren's shoulder and bury his face into his chest. He exhaled slowly, and then breathed him in. "Yesterday was so hard,” Theo whispered, knowing full well his voice was probably muffled, and grateful for it.

“It was the first time I just felt like we just weren't getting along and it was just ... Awful." Theo looked up, biting his lip. He still hadn't released Wren's t-shirt from his grip. "I don't think either of us realized how difficult coming here would be," Theo admitted softly. He'd thought it would be a fun getaway, but this was more than he'd bargained for. Cannon Beach, with its sunny mornings, and lazy, drizzly afternoons, the permanent smell of evergreens and the permanent crust of salt rimming the soles of his shoes … It was their haven. Where they were safe from the hell life tries to throw at them. Theo wiped his eyes one last time, before looking up  at Wren, releasing his hold from his t-shirt to brush the tips of his fingers along his jaw.

"I promise I'll do better too," Theo echoed, voice resolute this time. They loved each other. They needed to be there for each other, too. He leaned up to brush a soft kiss against his cheek, before settling in against him, his hand seeking Wren's. They lay like that for a while, the world outside passing them by. And it was easy to let it, when Theo had little interest in what lay beyond the hotel suite. It felt a little bit like Cannon Beach, where they would snuggle together just like this, the pressures of the world forgotten. However after some time, his hips began to grow sore, his shoulders a little achey. He wished they were in his bed, listening to the rhythms of the ocean, rather than the sound of engines and car horns.

"I need to get up," Theo whispered regretfully. And then after a moment of thought, added, "My shoulders are getting a little sore." He didn't move immediately, and Theo angled his face towards Wren's before hesitantly asking, "Do you need to shower?"

It wasn't something they did often together after waking. It was so rare when they rose at the same time, and the thought occurred to him that it might be a nice thing to do. At Wren's small nod, Theo smiled.

They undressed together in silence. The ritual was a simple one: Theo only wore a loose t-shirt and underwear, and Wren much of the same. He watched as Wren stepped into the shower and ran the tap to warm up the water, and Theo unfurled the tightly folded towels artfully arranged on the counter and draped them over the rack next to the shower. He followed Wren into the echoing marbled chamber, stepping carefully over the precipice to join him in the double rain shower.

As he closed the glass door, the humid warmth embraced them. Wren immediately stepped beneath the heavy stream of water, tilting his head upwards with eyes closed and immersing himself completely. Theo glanced at him, before turning to reach for his rosemary scented shampoo, pressing a dollop out into his palm and massaging it into his scalp, staring at the tile as he did so. The wall that had surged up between them was still there. It was unwelcome, and more importantly, Theo didn’t know what to do about it. So things were still not perfect, it seemed. But Wren had taken a step to make things better. So could he, thought Theo. 

He shot a furtive glance over his shoulder, before picking up the bottle of body wash he’d brought from home and squeezing some of its contents out onto the loofah he’d opened the morning before. He stepped under the stream of water, joining Wren in its welcoming warmth. He gently touched Wren’s waist, before slipping his arm around his stomach and resting his hand there. With his other he smoothed the loofah in circles along the curve of his back, carefully lathering his skin with rosemary scented bubbles.

Wren liked it. He could feel it in the way his breathing relaxed, the fine slump of his shoulders. So Theo pressed his body along the length of his, taking great pride in the fact that he was the one Wren wanted, he was the one he loved.. He made sure to reach up and scrub his shoulders and arms, before sliding down to his lower back, the supple curve of his thighs and rear. Wren had spoken about how he wasn’t easy to talk to, but when it came to moments like these, Theo felt like it wasn’t necessary. He watched the flexing of the muscles in his shoulders as his body wakened, the lift of his spine as he stretched each vertebrae. His waist was a fine taper that broadened into a set of broad shoulders, which he rolled now - first one, then the other – to shake out the discomforts of sleep.

Theo only noticed when Wren turn to face him by the movements of his feet, and he slowly looked up from his ministrations to meet his gaze. He was looking at his bruise, Theo suspected, and confirmed by a gentle hand at his waist, the other next to the site of his injection. He’d seen the bruise, then. His first in weeks. He’d noticed it when they’d been getting undressed – an ugly, purple stain against his pale skin.

Theo took his hand in his and met his eyes, pressing his palm to his lips in a gentle kiss. He watched the way Wren’s expression softened, his brows carefully unknitting. Theo stepped closer, threading their fingers together. He dropped the loofah and angled his feet between Wren’s, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him tightly against him in an embrace.

He rested his head against Wren’s chest, eyes shut as the water fell around them. He hadn’t hugged him in days. He nuzzled into his shoulder, and let a shaky breath go as he felt Wren lean his head against his, felt the comforting pressure of his arms wrap around his body, tugging him closer. He felt Wren’s breath against his wet hair, his hands against his arms. It felt right, and Theo sunk into him.

Only after a moment did Theo glance up, and he felt Wren shift to meet his gaze. Decisively, he stood up on his toes to press his lips to his, his hand reaching to caress his cheek. Theo kissed him tentatively at first. But when he felt Wren’s hand circle his waist and tug him closer, he grew bolder and more demanding, pulling Wren’s face closer to his. He smiled against his lips, and they kissed deeply. Theo felt like a starving man sitting before a Thanksgiving meal.

Each movement became hungrier, harder. Decisively, Theo flattened his feet, his arches growing numb from standing on his toes. And he kissed Wren’s collar bones - first one, then the other - perfect shapes beneath his skin. He kissed along his chest, and took hold of both his hands tightly, using his grip to help lower himself down to his knees. He kissed his hip bones, as well as the soft inside of his thighs. When he was settled, Theo took a moment to look up at Wren and enjoy the view, before smiling mischievously at him.

“I love you,” Theo said, just so Wren knew it, just so Theo knew Wren knew it and so they could both hear him say it together. His breaths came in short pants, chest rising and sinking with each effort. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom curtains, illuminating the way their bodies were intertwined on the bed. Wren's hands moved to support his weight, to help with the rhythmic movement of their bodies. The added support caused a soft groan to drip from his lips. He didn’t know how something could feel so good. Theo had his thighs wrapped around his waist, arms around his shoulders and neck. His voice was hoarse and breathless as Wren moved beneath him, and Theo let go of a sharp breath, which turned into hasty sigh of pleasure. He dropped his forehead against Wren’s, before pulling him into a deep kiss, fingers moving to clumsily caress to side of his face. He tasted sweet and his skin was hot, and Theo held him tightly, their heavy breathing synchronized.

“I love you,” he repeated, voice failing him. It was little more than a whisper in his ear. He pressed his face into the crook of his shoulder, mouth falling slack in a silent sound of pleasure.

When they were finished, both of them tired, spent and satisfied, Theo lay on Wren’s chest,  threading his fingers through the soft curls of hair pensively. It felt like honey coursed through his veins rather than blood, and he felt lazy, warmed, and spiced. 

“I missed you,” Theo murmured, a dreamy smile spreading over his face as he watched him. He looked better too; his smiles came more easily, small as they were, and his touches were lingering. He was glad, suddenly, for their fight. If it had sucked all the poison out, then he welcomed it.

He remember then what they had to do today. It would be a difficult day as well, Theo realized slowly. When Theo had been in Wren’s position, arranging how to transport what remained of his life to the West Coast had been one of, if not the most difficult part of the process. He frowned at the memory. 

“What do you need from me today?” Theo asked softly. 

It wouldn’t have been fair to say that Wren hadn’t missed this; he had, and desperately so. But maybe he hadn’t realised how much he had needed it, this unselfconscious physical intimacy which had always seemed to come so easily to them, until the morning before when it hadn’t. It wasn’t about the sex. Sex was good. It gave him something positive to concentrate on, made him feel desired. But this—Theo lying next to him, touching him, their skin pressed together—this made him feel loved.

This was what he’d wanted, yesterday, when he’d come back from the office. The reassurance of knowing that they were a team, that there was still something he was good for.

Slowly trailing his thumb down Theo’s side, noting every dip and rise in the landscape of his body, Wren contemplated the question. What did he need? Not what did he want, which was far easier to answer, but what he needed.

“I think,” he said after a moment, stopping to give his hip a gentle squeeze, “I need you to come get breakfast with me. And then I need you to tell me to take a time out if I start acting like an asshole again once we get to the storage unit.” He smiled at him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”

They showered again, but this time with more efficacy. Wren left Theo to blow-dry his hair, threw on a sweatshirt and his jeans quickly before hopping back into bed with his laptop. The first thing he did was shoot his mom an email to say he’d broken his phone, promising to call her as soon as he got it fixed. Then he logged into Facebook, where he sent Scotty a message saying much the same, but also gave him Theo’s phone number in case he wanted to get in touch. Finally, he clicked on Katie’s name.

To: Katie Windholme
Hey, I hope your meeting this morning went well. Sorry for not texting you back last night. Managed to destroy my phone screen so it wouldn’t let me type. I’m OK. We talked and things are good. Thanks for checking in on me and for inviting us out. I had fun. Hope to see you guys again soon.

By the time the sound of the hairdryer stopped, Wren was looking up breakfast places en route to the storage unit. He glanced over as Theo emerged from the bathroom, and he couldn’t help but smile. He looked radiant. (He always looked radiant.)

Shutting the lid of his laptop, he slid out of bed to go help Theo get dressed. He’d picked out his clothes already—a t-shirt and a very soft, autumnal rust-coloured cashmere sweater that brought out the red in his hair, but Wren didn’t grab them immediately. Instead, he reached for Theo’s waist, and tugged him a little closer, pulling him into a quick, affectionate kiss. It was going to be a good day.

It took them maybe an hour, including breakfast and dropping his phone off at a repair store around the corner from the storage unit, for them to arrive in Brooklyn.

Truthfully, Wren couldn’t remember much about dropping his stuff off to begin with. That whole week was a blur. He knew the basic details—that he and Scotty had packed up his apartment over the course of two days (well, Scotty had done most of the packing) then rented a van and driven it down to the first place they’d found with a unit available—but he had only a vague memory of loading and unloading the van at all. The compound certainly didn’t seem familiar to him, and the gum-chewing man at the front desk had to guide them over to his unit.

There was more than he’d thought.

Boxes of all shapes and sized piled high and haphazardly. A clothes rail against one wall, holding his suits and winter coats stuffed into clothes bags. Things they hadn’t been able to fit into a box, or which they’d unearthed too late, were scattered around the room. A wok. His rug. A lamp. A handful of get well soon cards tucked into each other. His stomach tightened as he glanced over at one of the boxes nearer the door, which had “BOOKS” written on it in Scotty’s scrawling handwriting.

There was no way all of this stuff would fit into his parents’ house. He didn’t even know what most of it was. And this wasn’t even counting all the furniture still in his apartment.

Wren gave Theo a despairing look. “Maybe I should just toss all of it.”

“The unit should be under the name Ruskin,” Theo supplied to the man at the front desk, when Wren’s voice seemed to fail him. “Wren… Is the first name,” Theo continued. When the man’s expression didn’t change, but his gum chewing somehow got louder, Theo blinked in distaste, and then looked up towards Wren for help. His boyfriend looked just as lost as the man at the front desk. For a moment, Theo wondered if they were even in the right place. Finally, he nodded towards the computer, tapping his fingers against the scuffed countertop impatiently.  

“There’s a computer in front of you. Would you just look up his credit card? You’ve been charging it for months. If that doesn’t tell what unit he’s been renting I think we’ll have bigger problems than some missing furniture.”  

Finally, the man led them to the unit. The three of them walked down a concrete hallway lined with corrugated aluminum overhead doors, the tapping of Theo’s cane providing a kind of echoing percussion to the trio’s muffled footsteps. The entire place smelt of humidity, and as he slid his arm through Wren’s, Theo had to stop himself several times from asking Wren if he’d purchased insurance against water damage. It wouldn’t have helped him now if he hadn’t. But fuck, was it ever warm under the bright lights of the hallway. He felt sweat trickling down the dip of his spine, and was glad he’d only opted for a t-shirt beneath his sweater. The storage unit was enclosed and claustrophobic, and despite only just arriving he couldn’t wait to leave.

The man stopped and flipped through a ring of keys, taking his time to thumb through each key and finally select the correct one. As he bent to lift the overhead door, Wren stepped inside. Theo followed, though as they stood there surveying the extent of Wren’s worldly possessions, his boyfriend gave little indication as to whether or not they were in the right place.

There were boxes labelled books, boxes labelled kitchen stuff and living room stuff. One box in particular was curiously labelled stuff dumped from your middle desk drawer, which was scrawled on the lid in a handwriting Theo didn’t recognize. It seemed to him like there hadn’t been much care taken in packing, or like it had been in a rush. It didn’t seem much like the Wren he knew, but then again, none of the objects stored in this unit seemed to belay much of Wren. He walked over to the box labelled kitchen stuff, flipping open the lid and poking through a few glasses from Ikea. A wok rested nearby, which Theo experimentally tried to lift, before deciding better of it. He’d never seen Wren cook before, never mind with a wok. He couldn’t imagine Wren even knew what to do with one.

On top of a dusty desk lay a pile of cards, which Theo flipped through. They were all get well soon cards, with various images of flowers or landscapes depicted on the front of each one. He frowned as he opened one signed by a name he didn’t recognize, wishing Wren a speedy recovery. They were the first items that indicated this was Wren’s storage unit.

When Wren spoke, Theo glanced up, flipping over the pile of cards. He felt like he’d been caught snooping, particularly when he’d found Katie’s card, her well wishes written in several neat, lengthy paragraphs. He frowned when Wren suggested they toss everything, taking a look around the unit.

“We don’t have to do that,” Theo said, after a short moment of appraisal. “We have all afternoon to sort through it You have some nice pieces here, like this rug …” Theo frowned, reaching up to pull the label closer so he could read it. “What is this, a Brabbu?”

He was surprised, to be honest. Little about Wren suggested that he had a particularly luxurious taste when it came to home furnishings. And to be fair, a lot of it was crap. A cheap Ikea couch was stored upright against a corner, a table made of knotted pine next to it. But there were some keepers. He pulled apart the tightly rolled coil of rug, discovering a tastefully bold pattern, and that it was indeed a genuine Brabbu. He laughed, delighted.  

“This is a really nice rug, Wren,” Theo concluded. He then looked towards the boxes, wondering what other hidden treasures lay buried here.

“Come on,” Theo said, smiling. “You don’t have that much stuff, and we don’t have anything else to do today. We can start with the easy stuff, like the kitchen boxes, and then make our way around the room clockwise.” Theo propped his cane up against the wall, squeezing Wren’s hand in his as he approached him.

“It’ll be easy.”

---

As predicted, sorting through the remnants of Wren’s life in New York didn’t long. They were halfway through and it had only been an hour or so. Wren had little attachment to most of his possessions, a fact that made the process blessedly quick, but also something Theo needed some time to come to terms with. The rug was moved to the keep pile, of course, along with the wok (it was William Sonoma, after all), and a small curated box of books. The toss pile would eventually be taken care of by one of the employees, and while Wren continued to sot, Theo had gone off to arrange for where the keep pile would be delivered to.

It was a little strange for Theo, thumbing through the archives of Wren’s adult life. It brought up a few of the sentiments from the day before, namely that he didn’t know Wren as well as he’d once thought. It was a little disconcerting. There were a few items he found a little surprising, but a lot of it was still quite minimalist. Compared to Wren’s parent’s house, filled to the brim with keepsakes and family photos, the contents of the storage unit felt a little stale, reflecting none of Wren’s personality as he’d come to know it. None of it reflected the man who sought out comfort and sentimentality above all else.  But as Wren moved item after item to the toss pile, Theo found himself feeling a little better. Maybe they could restart in Cannon Beach.

It was still hard work, however. His brow was clammy the whole time, and he’d ended up having to ask Wren to help him peel off his sweater. His t-shirt had dampened unpleasantly after only twenty minutes of sorting, yet there was a drafty coldness that seemed worsened by the concrete floors and walls. His throat was sore, and he felt a little faint. Maybe he hadn’t eaten enough, or maybe he was getting sick. He hoped it was the former, since flying with a head cold was miserable. He’d gotten a water bottle from the vending machine in the lobby, which helped a little. A good night’s sleep at a decent hour wouldn’t hurt either.

Halfway through, Theo finally reached the clothing rack. He’d been eyeing it for a while, and tried to hide his excitement as he unzipped the first bag. Of course he’d known Wren was a tax lawyer with some high profile clients, however this fact was easy to lose track of when he constantly dressed in decades’ old denim and ratty sweatshirts. He still liked the sweatshirts, as well as the soft t-shirts. But he’d never forget how Wren had looked on their first date.

“Lanvin … Thom Browne, Hugo Boss.” Theo murmured to himself as he perused Wren’s collection of suits, carefully sealed inside individual garment bags. Theo brushed his fingers along the lapel of one, the fabric soft, the tailoring impeccable. He was pleased, and wondered to himself when he might see Wren in them. He unearthed his tie collection, and found that he was unable to help himself from draping a few of them around his neck. Despite each one being neutral and rather reserved for his own taste, they were good quality and silk.

The next garment bag seemed a bit more sturdy, and had the name of a luxury brand printed on it. Theo frowned, reaching for it immediately.

“Saint Laurent?” Theo read aloud, looking at Wren in astonishment. “You have a Saint Laurent suit? How did I not know this?” Theo unzipped the garment bag carefully, gasping as the jacket revealed itself. The fabric was a dark grey – almost black – but it had tiny threads of navy threaded through it. It was lovely.

“Oh, wow,” Theo fawned, stroking it carefully. He tore his eyes away from it, looking at Wren, before removing the jacket from the hanger and pulling it on. It was huge on him, the sleeves overtaking his wrists by a few inches, and he knew he looked ridiculous, especially with a handful of Wren’s ties draped around his neck. But he didn’t care. He ran his hands over his chest, feeling the fabric brush against the tips of his fingers.

“Lovely,” Theo said, a smile taking over his features.

“Finding a job in Portland will be a cinch, especially with a suit like this. You’ll impress anyone you interview for... Though they might mistake you for a Tom Ford model, not a lawyer.”

He couldn’t wait, honestly. Ever since they’d first met, the thought that Wren might move back to New York had been an ever present anxiety that had loomed over him. But now it was over. Wren was staying in Oregon with him, and they could start moving forward. They could start building their lives together.

Theo frowned, looking around the room. Wren moving back to his parents seemed like a step back, when they had already proven with Theo’s impromptu proposal they were committed to each other.

“Do you want to move in with me?” Theo asked suddenly. He looked up at him, the look on his face unreadable. He moved towards Wren, his enthusiasm for the idea building with each step. He took Wren’s hands in his, squeezing gently, smiling widely.

“Maybe getting married is a bit fast but … You practically live with me already. What do you think?”