athenaeums | ao3

She’s looking in the rearview mirror where Jonathan is bleeding freely from the arm Roper caught with his second bullet and desperately clutching at his side where the first landed squarely. His good hand is pressing into Teddy’s shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding from his own gunshot injury.

Shot, by his own father.

Would have been square in the head, had Jonathan not shoved him in time.

But he can’t think about that.

He can already taste the bile rising, so he presses a little harder, even as Teddy groans and buries his forehead into Jonathan’s neck.

“Where are we going?” Teddy manages to get out through gritted teeth.

“My place,” Sally answers, a little calmer than before. “Just a shitty motel, very inconspicuous. I’m afraid the luxury of the Gran Meliá is done for.”

“We can’t-” Teddy tries but has to collapse back into Jonathan as another wave of pain surges through him. The muscles in his neck spasm and Jonathan wishes his other hand was free to massage them away. “We can’t stay in Medellín.”

“We won’t,” Jonathan finally speaks, surprised to find his voice shaking. Surprised to find his eyes full of unshed tears. “We’ll leave as soon as we’ve cleaned up.”

The blood is getting sticky now, matting into the fine hairs across his body and pulling with every breath.

“The Consuelo is sending a doctor,” Sally explains. “Someone discreet that can patch you up quick.”

“Good,” Jonathan sighs, relaxes a little. There’s a way through this. He won’t be in this pain forever.

He’s not going to die from this.

And more importantly, neither is Teddy.

He rests his head atop Teddy’s, still pressing tight into Jonathan’s neck, still seeking comfort where he can get it, and sighs.

It’s going to be okay.

Sally’s information is correct, as always, and the doctor patches them up good enough to travel in next to no time. They change into tracksuits Sally found at a nearby store, and plan to abandon the Kia on a nearby road, before taxi-ing to the airport and grabbing the first flight they see.

“I don’t have any papers with me,” Teddy says, quietly, when they’ve finished changing in the bathroom. His head is down, resigned, defeated. His shoulder is hidden under layers of gauze and bandages, the sling the doctor insisted on is hanging limply from his hands, and this man, once so formidable, dangerous, untouchable, suddenly seems so human. Fragile. Jonathan just wants to hold him, wants to make it all okay. “I can’t go home so I can’t pick them up. You’ll have to go without me.”

“Nonsense,” Jonathan says, daring to run a hand down his good arm, gently holding his hand with his own good hand. “Sally will have sorted something.”

“It won’t work,” Teddy shakes his head. “People know me here. We have men everywhere. I can’t just… pretend.”

“Every single person in the airport will know who you are?” Jonathan tries for humour, forced though it feels, but it dies when Teddy finally looks up at him and he can see how battle-weary he truly is in his eyes. He doesn’t have any more to give.

Jonathan just nods, pulls his hand back to trace along Teddy’s cheek, pushes his fingers into his hair and off his face, and just holds him there.

Hours ago, they were just like this, full of faith and hope, held together in a shack on the eve of war.

But, against all odds, they’re still walking. They’re still talking.

They’re making plans.

“It’ll work,” Jonathan assures him. “I’ve been so many people in this life that I’m barely holding onto who I really am underneath it all, but you can be just one other person, just for today, just until we’re safe. I promise.”

Teddy studies him, lifts his uninjured arm to rest on Jonathan’s shoulder, weaving his fingers into the hair at his nape. “And who am I here with now?”

“Jonathan Pine,” Jonathan says without hesitation. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Eduardo Vidal,” Teddy offers in return, managing a small smile as he does. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He straightens up, stands a little taller before he exits the bathroom leaving Jonathan a little struck.

He checks himself in the mirror one last time, gives his dressings a once over as he pulls the sweatshirt Sally grabbed from a nearby store over his head awkwardly, and finally nods.

Time to go.

“What do you say,” Tommy asks, smirking, finger running just inside Buck’s waistband. “One more round in this old place to say goodbye?”

Buck rolls his eyes with affection, runs his hand through the slight shine on Tommy’s clavicle, peeking out from his workout vest. “Absolutely,” he agrees, putting his water down and immediately putting his mouth where he wants it – licking into the slopes and curves of Tommy’s neck as his hands begin to wander further south – now that Tommy has given permission.

Tommy matches his energy and hoists him onto the island, crawling up just after him.

“Here?” Buck questions, with a laugh.

“Here,” Tommy grins. “I think it’s the only surface in this place we’ve never-”

“Yeah, for many valid hygiene-related reasons,” Buck says. But still: “Get up here!”

Tommy follows his lead dutifully, crawling over him to reach his mouth, to strip him of his t-shirt, to drag his mouth down over the hardness of his chest, to the soft swell of his belly, and into the crease of his hip.

“Hope your landlord gets a deep clean after this,” Tommy chuckles into Buck’s upper thigh as he pulls his waistband down just enough to find what he’s looking for.

“Oh my god, Tommy,” Buck groans, trying to lift his hips ever so slightly. “Stop talking about my landlord.”

“Okay,” Tommy grins as he takes Buck into his mouth, delighted by the satisfied moan he drags out of his husband.

After, Buck will check on Tommy’s arm (“It’s fine, baby.”), his knees (“I’m not that old, Evan.”) and if he, too, needs a hand with anything (“No, wait until we’re home.”). Buck will help take the final boxes down to the truck, and with a heavy sigh, he’ll take one last look at his now empty apartment before he closes the door with a click, keys dropped in his mailbox for the landlord to collect. It feels as empty as it did the day Tommy walked out of it, and it somehow never recovered. Buck loves this place, but he knows he won’t miss it.

He touches his new keys in his pocket to make sure he hasn’t forgotten them and lets the door to his apartment building close shut behind him for the last time.

“Home?” Tommy calls over from where he’s leaning against his truck, sunglasses now resting on his face making him look ten times cooler than usual and twenty times as hot. Despite Tommy’s earlier musings, Buck almost can’t believe his luck.

“Home,” he says back when he reaches him, presses a kiss to his waiting mouth, and jumps in the truck with a smile.

It’s another three months before their schedules finally align and he starts putting it into action, though.

“All I’m saying is-” Eddie says, putting one of the hoses on the engine away. “Fuck!”

The hose unravels and falls back to the floor.

“I’ll be glad when this shift is over,” Chimney sighs, stepping in to help as they all move sluggishly, moaning and groaning with the weight of merely existing after their shift ended on an emergency more physical than they had any energy for after a day full of calls.

“Exactly my point,” Eddie points furiously at Chimney when they finally get all the equipment back on the truck and it all stays put. “We need a break and where better than-”

“No offence, but unless you’re booking us all a spa weekend, I don’t think Vegas is the rest and recuperation kind of place,” Buck interrupts, wiping at the ash settled on his face.

“Four days off,” Eddie sighs wistfully. “Four days of what? Watching a fight? Having a go at the tables – bit of roulette, bit of poker? All sitting, all low energy.”

“Eddie-” Chimney tries to intervene, with a smile, letting him down gently.

“Everything is arranged,” Eddie grins. “Flights, hotel, everything.”

And that. That doesn’t feel so good. Eddie won’t look him in the eye.

“Eddie,” Buck stands firm. “No.”

“Yes, Buck,” Eddie finally turns to him and stares him down. “It’ll be fine. He’s cool with it. He has no problem at all, actually! He’s excited to get away, just a miracle our shifts finally all lined up really.”

“Me, you, Buck and-” Chimney presses.

“Tommy,” Buck sighs. “Tommy’s flying us over and Tommy’s probably using one of his guys to hook up a hotel and yeah, I’m out.”

“It’s been a year,” Eddie whines, like a toddler who has had his toy taken away. “You guys have been getting on just fine!”

And it’s true, in a sense.

It’s been a year since they broke up, but it’s also been a year where they’ve found their way back to something of a friendship. Never on their own, always in a group, but cordial. Friendly. Small talk, at least.

It’s not three nights in Vegas and probably sharing a room.

“No,” Buck says, absolutely resolute. “Have a good time, send me pictures!”

He waves them off with a smile and hops on the engine to end the conversation. He’s half-tempted to join Hen and Chim in the ambulance instead, to avoid Eddie pressing him on this the whole way back, but he doesn’t. He tips his head back when he’s finally seated, stretches his legs in the brief moment before everyone else piles in, and closes his eyes. He lets out a deep breath and thinks about the beautiful and rare four days to himself stretching before him instead.

-

Almost 36 hours after his absolute refusal to join in, Buck finds himself standing at the end of his bed looking at the empty holdall in front of him and failing to understand how he ended up in this situation.

He doesn’t know if he has a voice anymore. Maybe his vocal cords are fried, maybe they desiccated. What’s he got to talk about now anyway?

“Can I let them in?”

He must groan, or grunt, or ‘mmhmm’ because in the next blink, one of his blinds is cracking open and he feels his brother’s presence, so familiar it almost makes him want to cry.

“Kendall,” Roman says, looking around the room for a place to sit but appearing genuinely frightened by every available surface. “Pleasure as always.”

Roman walks in like he owns the place, like he might be welcome. He eventually perches on the end of the couch, but not enough to really be comfy. Kendall can see he’s holding his weight funny, not sitting naturally. He’s just a temporary fixture within his wasteland and if he’s not going to clean it up, he might as well bunker down.

“Rava called,” Roman explains, a little softer this time. “I know news might not make it all the way up to your lofty heights, but it looks like Jimenez is going to win. She’s coming back to the city.”

It’s a statement he doesn’t want an answer to, and he waits for no answer, but he’s tapping on his phone and a few minutes later puts it down with a sigh.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

“She shouldn’t be talking to you,” Kendall eventually forces out. “I don’t want her talking to you.”

Roman, for a moment, if Kendall was paying real attention, flashes a glimpse of hurt across his face. There’s an apology hanging in his eyes, an attempt in his throat, but it never makes it out. “Oh, a feeling!”

“Fuck off, Roman,” Kendall mumbles. “Why are you even here?”

“You’re not answering your phone, fuckface, so I’m just passing on the message,” Roman huffs, standing to parade in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows before he adds: “And making sure you didn’t kill yourself this time. Does this building have a pool?”

“My phone died,” Kendall explains, ignoring the chill down his spine at Roman’s suggestion. Not because it’s not true, but because it was consuming every hour of his day. He was in fight mode, constantly battling the darkness threatening to cloud his brain, vision, judgement.

“Cool,” Roman laughs. “Yeah, in 2023 we don’t have fucking phone chargers or anything. Absolutely no way to get that baby up and running again.”

“Fuck. Off. Roman.”

“For some unknown reason your kids want to see you,” Roman says, quieter this time. Less mocking, but it’s still there. A challenge, waiting to be met. He wants Kendall to say something. He wants to be called out. Kendall is too tired to resist.

“Not my kids, right?” he eventually gives him, eyes watering ever so slightly. “Not my problem.”

“Ken-” Roman starts, drowning in relief.

“You’re fucking despicable, coming here pretending to care,” Kendall laughs a little. “You just wanted to see the spectacle. Have a day at the zoo.”

Roman says nothing, but he looks more comfortable. This is a space he can navigate, and Kendall can’t stop pushing the buttons.

Kendall smiles. “Look at you, fucking lapping it up. I can’t forgive you, for saying that shit. For letting her do it. Does that make you feel better?”

Roman frowns but quickly shakes it out. Kendall really looks at him now, notices his face has healed. You’d never know anything happened to him at all. Same old Roman.

“Yeah, I feel fucking fantastic,” Roman sighs. “Just call your kids, Ken. And call Stewy. If I have to hear him ask after you one more time, I think I might be sick.”

Kendall nods. “Maybe I won’t call him then.”

“Sure, whatever turns you on, you sick bastard,” Roman raises an eyebrow. “Is this foreplay? Are you both using me for foreplay?”

“Maybe.”

“Disgusting.”

“You’d know.”

The first day Garrett brings him to his lunch table, he instantly feels sick. His heart has plummeted into his stomach and he’s not sure he can do this. Simon is grinning up at him over the sound of “Guys, this is Bram” as he’s passed around like a treat, a new toy. He hovers somewhere near the end of the table while Nick explains “he’s on the soccer team” but when Simon looks back at him once more, almost appraising, he hastily sits down in the space next to him before his knees give out.

How is he going to do this every time they have lunch? He can feel Simon’s arm brushing his as he continues whatever conversation he was having before and Bram is pretty sure he’s on fire, he’s burning up under his clothes. He wants to tear his sleeve off and let his skin press gently against Simon’s hoodie. He wants to do so many things. But instead he sits still, he eats quietly and when Simon offers him some fries he dares to throw a smile back at him.

Later, when Garrett catches up with him on the way out of the hall, he asks why Bram hadn’t been his usual talkative self. Bram hopes, more than anything he’s ever wanted before, that Garrett accepts his “I was just overwhelmed with meeting everyone” excuse.

-

The first time Bram spots Simon in the bleachers his foot flies over the ball and the opposition take it from him with minimal effort.

“C’mon, Bram!” Nick yells from across the field.

For the rest of the game, he’s off-kilter. He barely remembers the rules, he can’t find his own teammates and with twenty minutes left to go, he’s substituted off the field and replaced with someone that probably hasn’t lost a serious chunk of their cognitive function over a boy sitting in the stands.

He chances a look up at Simon and jumps when he notices that he’s already looking at him. Simon gives him a “what can you do” shrug which Bram feels compelled to return, accompanied by his warmest smile. Simon gives him a thumbs up and Bram has to turn back because he can’t look at him anymore. It might be the most communication they’ve had since the day they met.

-

Bram has never really questioned the fact that he likes boys. He has always known that the words he hears in the locker room, the debates he hears on the television, the discrimination he sees in politics all belong to him. He knows that he’s gay. But he’s always struggled to say it aloud.

When Abby starts at Creekwood High School he tries to like her. He watches Nick’s eyes turn to perfectly formed hearts the day that she joins them for lunch and he wonders if his eyes did that the first time Simon smiled at him. He looks at Abby and tries to understand what Nick is so enamoured with – she is a delightful girl. She’s charming and beautiful and funny and witty… but as he looks at the curves of her body, as he watches her walk to the line to get a drink, sees her bat her eyelashes at Nick, he knows he feels absolutely nothing. He admires her, but he’s not remotely attracted to her.

He watches Simon across the lunch table when Abby sits down, and he feels a thrill down his spine to note that Simon’s eyes remain perfectly shaped, perfectly fixed upon his food and perfectly not checking Abby out at all. He dares to hope for a moment, but he swallows it down when Leah rests her head on Simon’s shoulder and he kisses the top of her head.

-

The minute he presses Post he wants to die. It’s out there. The first time he’s said it to anyone and now he’s announced it to the whole school. Sure, he used a pseudonym. But it’s out there. Someone in the world knows that there’s a boy sitting in his room anguished and isolated but also not, tearing chunks out of himself, that is gay.

And Bram doesn’t really know what to do with that now it’s there.

-

He sees the email address and for a split second he thinks of Simon. Within another split second he’s taught himself not to be ridiculous. He sends an email and wonders if this is a set-up, an elaborate ploy to find him out and expose him to the school. He thinks that maybe it would be easier if someone else would just say it. If someone else could see the looks on his friends’ faces as they walk away from him. If someone else could tell Simon that it’s okay, it doesn’t mean that Bram is going to pounce on him or anything – he just really sort-of loves him. And when he thinks of his distant moon-grey eyes in the lunch hall, he wonders if that’s what Simon needs to hear.

-

He’s staring at Simon where he stumbles in Bram’s living room, drunk and dressed like John Lennon. He thinks of Jacques and it feels a little like cheating – but is it, if Simon was there first? He’s noticed that Simon has been spending a lot of time near him tonight, that in every corner of the room, there he is. But Bram can’t bring himself to hope anymore. It’s been long enough.

But he still invites Simon to drink with him, to play against Abby and Martin. He still feels his heart hammering out of his chest as he reaches up to gently remove Simon’s glasses and prays that he can’t feel the palpitations through the flimsy frames. He still desperately wants to lean up and just kiss him. He settles for karaoke instead, but Simon keeps grabbing his arm, his waist, his shirt to stay upright and performing their horribly imperfect choreography. So, Bram has to walk away.

He hides in his room for a second before she walks in and invites herself to his lap. He doesn’t push her away. Isn’t it a good idea to find out, really? He’s never kissed a girl, what if he’s been mistaken this whole time… but the second her drunk lips press against his he knows it’s wrong. He sees Simon in the doorway, but he’s gone before Bram can even begin to explain himself – and then remind himself that he doesn’t have to. Because the hurt and heartbroken look on Simon’s face means nothing – right? He was just drunk. Right?

-

He hears from Garrett the next day that Simon was hilarious – wandering through the rooms talking to himself in rhymes – “Hey Barack, it’s me: Jacques” – and man, he’s going to have a hell of a hangover today. Bram thinks of the sentence fragments in the emails, the music recommendations, Oreo addiction and every single smile he’s catalogued in his brain since the day they met. And his heart sings.

-

It’s been a week since Simon has smiled at him and a week more before Bram dares to ask for fries off his lunch tray again. Bram is deflating. Jacques might be Simon and Simon might be Jacques but Bram doesn’t know how to move this forward, to bring the relationship he’s been living in his head to reality.

“Greenfeld,” Garrett asks, loudly. “What’s going on up there?”

Bram opens his mouth to answer with some witty response, something in the bro-language he’s mastered. But he chances a glance in Simon’s direction and he knows his eyes are burning into him and he just can’t.

“Nothing,” Bram forces a smile and continues to pick at his food. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Simon’s tray offered to him gently. Simon is on the other end with a warm smile, a tiny twinkle in his eye but nothing more. Bram will absolutely take it.

-

You’re going to find out who I am. Bram reads that sentence over and over before he returns to school and even then he can’t get the guilt out of his head. I already know who you are, Simon, he thinks to himself. But he deletes the email account because it’s all getting a little too close. He once thought that it would he easier to be outed, to have someone else tell everyone the news, but he sees the dark circles under Simon’s eyes, his friends abandon him and the bullies in the lunch hall… and he just can’t.

But he does love him. He loves him so much, no matter if Simon thinks he’s Cal or Lyle or any of the other stupid options Simon has considered. He’s just down the hall when Simon asks Cal if it was him and he thinks he can actually hear his heart breaking. But he still loves him.

-

Bram is sick three times before Garrett picks him up for the carnival. He makes Garrett pull over twice before they get there too.

“Bram, what’s going on?” Garrett asks quietly when they park up. Neither of them makes any attempt to move. Bram can see the ferris wheel towering over everything and he reaches for the door handle in case he needs to be sick again.

“I think I ate something that was off,” he tries, but he sounds entirely unconvincing to himself, let alone Garrett.

“Bullshit,” Garrett says, sternly. “You don’t have to tell me but it might help and I’m willing to listen. You’re my best friend and I’m here for you, okay?”

Bram can only nod, but they still don’t go anywhere. He wonders if it’s because his eyes are now filling with tears. He looks up straight into the bright glittering lights. It’s too far to see from where they are but Bram does wonder if the blur he can see somewhere near the top is Simon.

The problem with a ferris wheel is that it can be seen from everywhere, Bram thinks.

“The guy Simon has been emailing,” Bram starts. “The one he’s waiting for tonight?”

“Yep,” Garrett says.

“It’s me,” it comes out as a whisper.

“What?”

So, Bram braces himself. This is where the school finds out. This is where he loses his best friend. Turns out that Garrett would only be there to a certain point – he’d pushed him too far.

“You mean you’ve left him on that wheel this whole time?” Bram almost pulls a muscle with how quick he turns his head to stare at Garrett. “Bram, it’s almost eight-thirty! He’s been up there since five!”

“It’s not just about Simon, is it?” Bram decides to go with it. He feels his stomach churn once more with the reminder that he thought Garrett would ever be the type to out him. His heart and his head are pounding, though. The dull thud in his brain, beating above his eyebrow, persistent and unwavering like it had been for weeks now. He wonders if Simon might be the cure. “If I go to him, if I tell him, everyone else will see.”

“Right,” Garrett sighs, finally realising. “You’re worried about what people will say?”

“I guess,” Bram mumbles.

“Because I won’t let them say a thing,” Garrett is defiant, and Bram feels a small flutter in his heart. “I’m still your best friend, Nick and Leah and Abby are still your friends.”

Bram nods, willing his eyes to just stop. Willing his head to stop. Willing his heart to go back to normal.

“Plus,” Garrett grins and elbows Bram gently. “You’ll definitely have Simon.”

Bram rolls his eyes and laughs a little. “I don’t know about that,” he says quietly. “He might be disappointed that it’s me.”

“Seriously? With the way that he looks at you? Please, Bram,” Garrett laughs and finally leaves the car. Bram scrambles after him, heart in his mouth and legs barely carrying him, demanding to know what he means but Garrett flips him off and runs to the carnival with a joyous shout. “Let’s go get him!”

-

Bram holds his breath as Martin Addison runs to the wheel. By the time he feels Garrett’s gentle nudge in his back he finally exhales and thinks he might pass out. How can he do this? Simon’s friends are cheering, the theater kids are cheering, everyone is so happy and willing Simon on… but will they cheer him on? Is Bram the one they want for Simon? It’s become less about Simon and Bram, Jacques and Blue, and now it’s a spectacle.

“Dude,” Garrett hisses in his ear as Martin shoves money at the ride operator and Simon shoos him away. “Now.”

Bram takes a step forward, but his legs don’t feel like his own. They’re carrying him towards Simon but he’s not in control. His head is warring with his body but when he opens his eyes and looks up, Simon is staring at him and it’s good. It feels good and right and like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m waiting for someone,” Simon says, unsure.

“I know,” Bram says with a smile, wondering if this whole time Simon has been hoping too. He takes a seat before Simon can argue. And when Simon kisses him, Bram’s body sparks back to life and every cell tingles with joy.

-

Ten minutes later after a go around the ferris wheel, a hug from Garrett, a kiss on the cheek from Abby, a clap on the back from Nick and a smile from Leah, he feels Simon’s hand in his tugging him away and so he goes.

He’s sitting in Simon’s car with Simon’s hand on his face, his lips on his lips and a grip on Simon’s thigh that he never, ever thought he would get to have.

“Are you sure you’re not disappointed?” Bram asks when Simon finally pulls away to breathe. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want it to be me, we can call it quits now and -”

“Bram?” Simon says, barely above a whisper, and Bram feels it everywhere. “I am so beyond happy that you’re Blue. How many times do I have to tell you? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Bram laughs and reaches for Simon’s hand. “No, it’s okay. I believe you.”

“Are you disappointed that it’s me? I know you’ve known for a while now but is that why you were late tonight?” Simon asks, showing the first signs of fragility since they got off the wheel and Bram just wants to hold him close forever.

“No!” Bram is quick and insistent. The pounding has ceased in his head but the knowledge that Simon has been worrying about this sits heavy in his stomach instead. His skin itches, he squeezes Simon’s hand. “You’re perfect! You being Jacques is just… perfect.”

Simon smiles shyly and feeling compelled by a confidence Bram didn’t know he possessed, he lifted Simon’s chin and placed a gentle kiss on his lips to solidify his point.

“I’ve sort-of had a crush on you for the longest time,” Simon admits with a quiet laugh. “I think pretty much since the day Garrett introduced you.”

There’s a slight blush across Simon’s cheeks and Bram wants to kiss all over it.

“Well then I win,” Bram grins. “Because I was gone the moment I saw you – on my first day of school.”

“No way!” Simon exclaims and launches himself at Bram. Bram wonders if Simon knows that he smells amazing, he tastes like heaven, that he’s the embodiment of perfection. Simon pulls back and rests his head gently against Bram’s for a moment. “At the party, I really thought you were Blue. I was coming to tell you when I saw you with that girl.”

“Oh my god,” is all Bram can offer. “I hate that you saw that.”

“No! It’s fine,” Simon says, opening his eyes and sitting back. “I was so desperate to know who you were, but I don’t think I really thought about what it would mean – I wasn’t ready then. I’m more than ready now.”

“Me too,” Bram agrees.

“Are you sure?” Simon asks.

Bram thinks Simon deserves the world. But for the first time, Bram thinks he deserves Simon. He feels like he’s woken up from a coma, from a long stretch absent from reality and Simon is the one to pull him out. His heart is glowing and humming gently in his chest, his stomach feels light and free, his body is fully within his control. It’s the best he’s ever felt, and he gets to share that with Simon. And he loves him.

“Yes,” Bram nods. “I’m sure.”

He’ll tell him that later.

-

Summer is laying on blankets in Simon’s backyard exchanging kisses and smelling of sunblock, dripping ice-cream everywhere and relishing in walking Bieber to the coffee shop. Summer is riding shotgun in Simon’s car as they head out on “one last adventure” almost every week before college starts. Summer is holding Simon’s hand as Leah drives away, rubbing his hand up Simon’s back as Abby and Nick leave. Summer is Simon holding him close in his bed the day Garrett heads off to college early. Summer is learning Simon’s body and in turn, learning his own. Summer is clinging onto the hours their parents are at work, the days Simon’s family go out without him, the days when they have nothing but time and heat and love and want. Summer is falling in more and more in love with Simon, letting his heart sing and shout and flutter every time he is near. Summer is drowning in the happiness Bram never thought he deserved or would get to have.

They’re laying on Simon’s bed, above the covers with the door closed. Simon has the window open and a single fan blowing stale but comforting air onto their skin. But they don’t move away.

“Simon?” Bram asks, pressing a small kiss to Simon’s chest.

“Mmm?” Simon mumbles back, turning his head to look at Bram’s eyes.

He thought this moment would be nerve-wracking. He thought his body would be tense and terrified. He never imagined feeling the greatest comfort, the greatest ease within himself, complete relaxation. He stares into moon-grey eyes and at lips just slightly kiss-swollen. He brushes his hand across Simon’s neck and over the hint of a bruise that Bram had left there last week.

“I love you,” he says, matter of fact.

Simon grins and presses his lips to Bram’s in a gentle, warm kiss.

“I love you too,” he says.

“One of the guys accidentally shoulder-checked me,” Liam mumbles and inspects his hands, makes sure there isn’t any damage he needs to heal.

“This is ridiculous,” Theo sighs. “Maybe you need to stop playing, it’s not safe.”

“What!” Liam cries. “They wouldn’t hurt me!”

Theo just stares at him.

“It’s not safe for the team,” Liam exhales and hits his head back against a tree. “What do you care anyway?”

“As much as it pains me to say it,” Theo answers through gritted teeth. “Scott left me in this shitty little down to make sure nothing bad happens – you tearing up your lacrosse team would count as something bad.”

“Look at you now, Theo,” Liam smirks. “Still begging for Scott’s approval.” He pushes away from the tree and straightens his lacrosse kit. “I don’t need saving, not by you.”

He walks away, checking Theo’s steady heartbeat. He’s annoyed he didn’t rile him. He didn’t even notice the calm settling through his bones making it easier to breathe and effortless to focus.

***

There’s a new kid in town and Liam is almost positive he’s supernatural. He’s trying to reign him in, trying to help like Scott would have wanted him to when he feels the frustration and anger pulsing through him. He doesn’t understand why the kid won’t just cooperate. Why can’t he see that this is good for him?

He’s tracking the kid in the tunnels under Beacon Hills when his breathing increases in pace and he feels his jaw tense. His whole body feels like a spring, all coiled up and ready to burst, to fly out of control. He clenches his hands into fists and hisses at the sting he immediately feels in his palms. It calms him for a moment. He hates being down in the tunnels – so many bad memories, so many feelings etched into the walls and dripping from the ceiling. It’s overwhelming.

“Are you ok?” Theo mumbles from his side.

“Fine,” Liam grumbles, but he can feel the nausea rising and he knows the tension behind his eyes will soon be unbearable.

“So how does it happen?” Theo asks.

“What?” Liam snaps impatiently.

“The rage,” Theo says simply. “Is it like a blackout that you can’t control or can you stop yourself from hurting people?”

Liam squints at him with disbelief. He hasn’t got time for this. There’s a thread through his whole body and it’s about to snap somewhere around his heart. “You want to talk about this right now?”

“Well,” Theo sighs, peeking around a corner before boldly stepping around it and continuing. “You’re pretty wired right now, am I going to have to fight you?”

“You’d love that!” Liam declares a little too loudly. He hears a pipe clang loudly from up ahead and he knows his eyes switch at the sensory overload. Fear, devastation, grief, triumph, concern. He can smell it all around him and it’s making his brain go crazy.

“Calm down,” Theo orders and pushes him along. His hand rests on the small of Liam’s back as they inch forwards. He’s pressing gently with his fingertips and Liam takes a deep breath.

He catches sight of the kid – terrified and alone – and sighs. The thread loosens and some of the tension escapes through his spine. He’s left static when Theo removes his hand and goes to the boy, asking his name and where he’s from. He’s too busy trying not to scare the new werewolf to pinpoint when the calm began easing through his veins.

***

Liam runs into the woods, as far away from civilisation as he can. He glances up and checks the full moon and feels it like a punch to the chest. He thinks about calling Scott but he wonders if his alpha might try to return, to help him get back on track. His advice wasn’t so helpful the last time. He wants to call Mason, desperately, but he can’t. He knows if he hurts him he could kill him – he’d never forgive himself. He thinks of Theo for one ridiculous, stupid moment and before he can stop it, he growls loud and clear. Panic rises through him as he spots his claws. He can feel his face contorting and knows his eyes are shining brightly. He tries to think of Hayden again, tries to concentrate on memories of her – kissing, playing video games, holding hands in the hall. But he can’t settle.

“You called?” an obnoxious voice asks from behind.

“Go away,” Liam says on instinct but there’s a voice in the back of his mind screaming at him to make Theo stay. “Why are you here?”

“I could hear you from miles away,” Theo says like it’s nothing.

“Shit,” Liam curses and takes it out on a nearby tree.

“What’s going on Liam?” Theo asks, suddenly serious. “You should be under control by now.”

He’s pointing to the moon but Liam can’t bring himself to look at it again.

“Hayden’s not here,” he forces out. “She stopped this from happening, she anchored me.”

Theo laughs and Liam wants to hit him. He’s not sure how much longer he can keep his limbs by his side.

“That’s bullshit,” Theo finishes his chuckle. “What normally triggers you?”

Liam snaps.

He punches Theo square in the face knocking him the ground. He goes to hit him again as he pins him to the ground with one hand but Theo dodges the hit and Liam ends up flailing at thin air. He’s still shifted, he knows he’s stronger but he can’t seem to hit the mark. He tries a few more times but every time Theo gets the upper hand and manages to move slightly out of the way.

“Liam, stop it!” Theo yells but he can’t stop. He can feel his heart hammering, his skin itching to explode and all he can see is Theo’s face bloody and bruised, it’s all he wants. But something is holding him back, something is trying to push his energy away from Theo and back inside. His body is screaming to beat the life from the arrogant, selfish boy below him but his mind – his mind is fighting every move he makes.

As he wars with himself he slackens his grip slightly but Theo takes full advantage and flips them over, holding Liam down with a strong hand against his chest.

“Sorry about this,” Theo mumbles before he knocks Liam spark out. He rests back on Liam’s legs and sighs. “Shit.”

***

Liam wakes on a slab in Deaton’s surgery. He instantly smells the bowls of herbs, the surgical spirits and then he catches the scent of possibly the last person he wants to see. Theo is sat on a chair by the end of the slab when Liam sits up. His heart picks up slightly when he notices Theo’s hand resting on his bare ankle. Theo is staring at him with a hint of a smirk which Liam challenges when he kicks his hand from his foot without breaking eye contact for a second.

“You knocked me out,” he says quietly but with his jaw stiff and unyielding. “Again.”

“Sure did,” Theo crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. “Got you pretty good too, you’ve been out most of the night.”

“Great,” Liam answers sarcastically. “Why am I here?”

Theo studies him for a second before finally breaking eye contact and shifting his gaze to his lap.

“Scott would never forgive me if I left you in the woods like I wanted to,” he lies. Liam can hear his heartbeat. Theo is desperately trying to control it but he can hear the inconsistencies. It’s relaxing. “I figured the animal guy might be able to work out what’s causing these… episodes.”

“I told you what’s wrong,” Liam frowns.

“And I told you that’s bullshit,” Theo challenges.

“Whatever,” Liam deflects. He knows it isn’t entirely true but he doesn’t have to disguise anything to tell the slight mistruth. He genuinely has no idea what is causing him to lash out, to lose control, to almost hurt people. “Did Deaton figure it out?”

Theo nods. Liam wants to punch him right in his face, but this time he’s sure it’s not the IED making him feel so violent.

“Well?” he pushes instead.

They sit in silence for a moment, Liam waiting patiently for any kind of explanation. Theo stands and stretches, pats Liam’s ankle and heads for the door. “I’m not a therapist. I’ll catch you later.”

And he leaves.

Liam feels the rage flooding through him but he contains it to just one bowl of strange smelling herbs shattered on the floor. He lays back down and growls, low and frustrated, as he waits for Deaton to return and put him out of his misery.

***

He’s called out in class when he next feels it happening. It’s there before he can stop it and seconds before he scratches his teacher’s skin from her bones he runs from the classroom, the school and the neighbouring area. He doesn’t stop until he gets home. He ignores his phone pinging messages from Mason and Corey, from Nolan and some of the lacrosse team asking if he’s okay as he scratches into his scalp, elbows on knees at the end of his bed trying to breathe deeply and let it pass.

By the time he receives a text from Dr Geyer about his truancy he’s destroyed his room just short of tearing the wallpaper from the walls.

He remembers what Deaton told him as he gazes upon his destroyed video game collection, the xbox just about surviving the rampage. He wonders if it’s worth trying…

With desperate hands he dials Theo’s number and leaves a frantic message asking him to come over, asking him for help. Deaton couldn’t be right. But how could he refuse to find out?

“Liam,” Theo says as Liam opens the front door a crack to avoid the neighbours seeing him. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been two days,” Liam sighs.

“Didn’t realise you were counting,” Theo winks, chuckling as he makes his way upstairs. Liam hangs his head slightly when he hears the faraway “woah” escape Theo’s mouth from the doorway to Liam’s room.

“I need your help,” Liam says faintly as he joins Theo in the doorway.

“I don’t know what you think I am but a cleaner is not it, Liam,” Theo points out gesturing at the state of the room.

“No!” Liam cries, frustrated. “Not with that, well yes with that, but mostly not that.”

“Oh good,” Theo says, smiling and throwing himself face first onto Liam’s bed, turning over with his hands below his head to smirk at Liam triumphantly.

“What’s your anchor?” Liam asks bluntly. Theo has the decency to look a little taken aback for a moment.

“Liam,” he turns the nonchalance back on like a switch. “I think it’s a little early in our budding relationship to ask such personal questions.”

Liam muffles a frustrated scream and wills his body to retract the claws that just appeared piercing a hole in the cuff of his shirt. “This is why no one likes you!” he yells. “You’re… the worst!”

“The worst?” Theo raises an eyebrow but he doesn’t move or make any indication that he will.

“Whatever,” Liam dismisses it. “Deaton thinks my episodes are linked to my emotions, to stress, but you already knew that.”

Theo nods.

“He thinks that a lot has happened – the hunters, the Anuk-ite, Hayden moving away, Scott and Stiles leaving, Brett and Lori dying, Gabe,” he presses on the last one just to try and spy a reaction but Theo is as poker-faced as ever winding Liam up even more. “So, my IED is acting up because it’s natural to feel stressed or something. He suggested I find an anchor because apparently it wasn’t Hayden.”

“This is astonishing,” Theo mumbles sarcastically, closing his eyes. “And how exactly do you want me to help with that?”

“I think you already know,” Liam says feeling brave. He can feel the anger in him, barely being kept at bay by Theo’s presence alone. He could only imagine how it would dissipate were he brave enough to sit on the edge of the bed and gently press his hand to Theo’s. “You know you calm me, that’s why you were holding my ankle the other day.”

“I was testing a theory,” Theo says, sitting upright and picking at the duvet below him suddenly completely disinterested in engaging eye contact with the other boy. “Surprise, surprise I was right. I’m always right.”

“How could the world be so cruel as to make Theo Raeken my anchor?” Liam mused to himself. “Is this the price of bringing you back from hell?”

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Theo asks, slightly offended at Liam’s horror.

“Yes!” Liam cries. “You only care about yourself, why would you ever stop- oh.”

Memories of all the times Theo’s saved him from doing something stupid flood his brain. Theo groans as he exhales and throws himself back into Liam’s pillows.

“You’ve known this whole time?” Liam asks quietly.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out after you brought me back,” Theo says. “Don’t stress yourself over it.”

“Am I yours?” Liam asks tentatively, the inevitable question.

“Liam, don’t,” Theo warns. “Look, I’m doomed to run around after you stopping you from killing people because Scott would kill me if I let it happen. I’ve got the bad end of this deal. Don’t make a thing out of it and we’ll carry on as we have up to now, ok?”

“Sure,” Liam mumbles, sitting on the edge of his bed and reaching over to rest his hand on Theo’s knee.

“What in every layer of hell are you doing, Dunbar?” Theo stares at him with disbelief.

“Calming down,” Liam says, determinedly remaining as he was.

“You’re an actual idiot, a total imbecile,” Theo uttered to his horror but he didn’t remove Liam’s hand.

***

Ben, the new werewolf Liam has been trying to save from himself, brings his own problems to Beacon Hills and none of them need any of it.

“Just when I thought we would actually make it through this year with decent grades,” Mason laments, slamming his study books closed as Corey catches them up with what he knows.

“So, it makes things dark?” Liam asks. He’s confused, but they have to try and understand what they’re fighting.

“I saw it with Ben,” Corey nods. “Literally just blew out all the light, it was pitch black.”

“How do you know a lightbulb didn’t just blow?” Mason asks, desperate for any kind of resolution.

Corey just quirks an eyebrow at him and shakes his head. “You’re not listening. Pitch black. Not even enough light to make a shadow. Ben was talking to it, it wants him to do something.”

“Like a black hole,” Mason muses. “What could something like that want?”

“I don’t think we should hang around to find out,” Liam says, picking up his books and making for the door with Mason and Corey not far behind.

Liam has only ever discussed his fears with Scott and Mason. He’s not in the habit of sharing but later that night when he’s scouring through pages upon pages about all kinds of different enemies, in a way that he hopes would make Lydia proud, he’s aware of Theo in the corner of the room and he wants to tell him. If he shares with anyone, surely it should be his anchor?

“What’s wrong?” Theo asks without him saying anything. “I can smell your stress from here.”

“Nothing,” Liam murmurs, lies. “I just have a lot of studying to do this year and I don’t need this happening right now.”

He finds his tongue feels heavy and the words just won’t form. He’s scared of the dark. He’s a werewolf scared of the dark. Why is that so hard to say?

“Are you worried that you can’t beat it?” Theo asks. Liam just nods. He can’t admit why. He can’t tell him that this time he’s an absolute failure.

“It’ll be fine though,” he is finally resolute. “We’ll do it.”

“We?” Theo raises an eyebrow and Liam resists the urge to kick the chair he’s on to send him to the ground.

“Why are you still here?” Liam asks. He almost regrets it when he notices the hitch in Theo’s breath before he just huffs at him and turns back to what he was reading.

Regardless of the spats, of the disagreements, Liam finds Theo turning up at every single lacrosse practice after that. Liam knows why he’s there – to stop the team getting torn to pieces, to keep Liam under control – but it does nothing to ease the unnerving tension in his body that he’s noticed happens when Theo is around. He can’t focus on his game when he knows Theo is lounging on the bleachers next to Mason casting a lazy gaze across the field. He’s too busy winding himself up for another episode, another small explosion that he can’t escape until he feels a calming and gentle touch balancing his mood and diffusing him. But he’s not the only one that’s noticed Theo’s increased presence wherever Liam is.

When the floodlights start blowing one by one, the clouds move hastily over the moon and the wind picks up, Liam spots Ben from the corner of his eye. He barely has time to stop and think before he’s dropped his stick and he’s running to the EXIT sign flashing above the locker room door. He can feel Theo and Mason fast behind him. By the time he wrenches the door closed behind them, he can barely see anything outside. As the door bolts he hears the EXIT light blow out on the other side.

Liam is frantic. He’s tearing his kit from his body, desperately trying to get some normal shoes and jeans on so he can make a run for it. He can feel the panic heightening in him and it feels just like the Anuk-ite, it feels just like the zoo. Mason enters the locker room and makes his way towards him slowly but Liam wishes he would just leave. Just as his eyes shift, seemingly from nowhere, Theo appears behind him and forces him to sit on the bench with a steady hand to the back of his neck and his shoulders. Liam feels his fingertips pushing gently, massaging across his shoulders for a few seconds and the tension leaves him. He relaxes and falls back slightly, leaning against Theo’s body and focuses on breathing in, breathing out, breathing in…

Liam opens his eyes when Theo moves away and leaves the locker room but not before turning all the lights on full. He stares at Mason who hasn’t moved the whole time.

“You guys are friends now?” he asks warily. “Because you seem kind of close.”

“We have an agreement,” Liam says quietly, rolling his eyes. “I think it’s impossible to be friends with Theo.”

He knows as soon as he says it that it’s a lie, and he can smell the disappointment coming from Mason without any effort at all. “I think he’s trying though.”

“Since when were you his biggest fan?” Liam snaps and instantly regrets it. He glances out of the window but he can see the moon, high in the sky, shining brightly. Whatever the thing with Ben is, it’s moved on for now.

“I’m not but sometimes we have to give someone a second chance? He fought with you against the hunters, basically saved your life,” Mason says with some astonishment. “He tried to take away my pain in the tunnels.”

“He took away your pain?” Liam asks with disbelief. He wishes he wasn’t so surprised. He knows Theo by now, he knows he’s trying.

“No,” Mason smiles. “He couldn’t manage it but I guess I’m happy that he tried?”

Liam just nods. “We need to fight that thing.”

“We do,” Mason agrees. “And we’re going to need him.”

“I know,” Liam admits.

***

He can’t believe of all places to be, he’s back in that damn elevator at the hospital fighting for his breath with Theo Raeken.

“Breathe, Liam!” he can hear Theo ordering but he sounds so far away. He screws his eyes shut so he can’t see just how dark it is. He knows Theo is there because they’re clinging to each other for dear life, rendered blind by whatever monster has taken over the hospital. Theo is trying to clutch at his face, to make him focus on his voice, but he just feels the fear, panic, pushing on all sides of him and suffocating him. He hears Theo complain when he moves his hand and swipes his arm, claws out and ready to fight. He knows his eyes have switched and he’s ready to hurt someone, but he just can’t open them. He’d be able to see better if he could open them, he knows that, but every muscle in his body is fighting to keep them shut.

“You’re just scared, ok?” Theo is going for comforting but all Liam wants is for him to shut up. “You should have told me you were scared of the dark, you idiot!”

“Shut up!” Liam yells but it sounds more like a roar, like a deep rumbling growl that he’d only ever heard Scott do before.

“One emotion at a time, Liam!” Theo yells back. “You’re scared and it’s making you angry but you’re not gonna beat this thing if you’re trying to kill me all the damn time!”

“I’m not!” Liam insists but everything in his body tells him that he would if he was let go.

“I’m not going to die in this elevator trying to save you from yourself,” Theo says. “I’ve been here too many times now.”

Liam can sense the lie, can hear how his heartbeat betrays him, but the overwhelming reality of knowing that Theo would die for him does nothing to help the way he’s panicking. If anything, it worsens it for a moment. But he forces his eyes open and for a moment all he can see is Theo. Everything else is black, but he can see him.

“Hey-” Theo starts with a slightly relieved smile as Liam blinks his eyes back to normal. In doing so, he only ends up seeing more and more darkness. It’s oppressive and aggressive and terrifying - what else is in that elevator with them? As he stares at Theo’s calm face he wonders if they’re both going to die anyway and it’s like his lungs empty themselves of oxygen. He’s clawing at Theo’s shirt trying to concentrate on taking another breath but it just won’t happen. They’re both going to die, in the pitch black, and it will be because Liam killed them both.

He barely notices when Theo slowly lifts his hands back to Liam’s face and pulls him towards him. The only moment he really notes is when his lips meet Theo’s and it’s like he’s woken up after a nightmare. They stay like that together, lips gently moving over lips, slowly breathing each other in, until Liam feels Theo’s hand in his. The elevator dings and hand-in-hand they leave to fight a monster they have no clue about and can’t see. It feels eerily familiar. It feels like a second chance. Liam breathes clearly and fights with focus for the first time in weeks but when it’s all over he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He tries to look at Theo, he watches Mason stare at him knowingly but in the end, he grabs Theo’s hand and pulls him towards the exit, to go home.

“What is this?” Theo asks, raising their joint hands and gesturing towards them with the other. He’s not fighting it though.

“It is what it is, Theo,” Liam sighs.

***

Theo is sitting on the end of the bed while Liam crowds into the pillows. They haven’t spoken since they got here. They haven’t uttered a single sound let alone a coherent word. Liam had eventually let go of Theo when they arrived back to his room but they had yet to discuss it. What the elevator meant. How they succeeded, as a pack, without Scott and Stiles, Lydia and Malia.

“Why did you do it?” Liam asks when he can stand the tension anymore. He’s used to tension, he feels it in every cell but this is different. This tension doesn’t make him want to break things, tear people to shreds or scream until his throat is raw. This tension just makes him nervous and gives him butterflies. Not that he would admit it to anyone.

“You were panicking,” Theo answers, simply. “I needed you to stop.”

“Ok,” Liam says. “But why did you really do it? I can tell when you’re lying.”

“It is what it is, Liam,” is all Theo says, echoing the words Liam uttered to him only an hour ago. “What do you want – a big declaration of feelings? A mix-tape? Running towards each other in the middle of the field?”

Liam considers it for a moment. “No,” he decides. “You’re more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy.”

“Exactly,” Theo immediately agrees. “Wait- what? No-”

He turns and Liam is smirking from his end of the bed, glancing at him shyly from where he is now picking at a loose thread on a pillow. He’s not angry, but his nerves are still making him destroy nice things. He liked that pillowcase. But he’s also sure he likes Theo and that is one thing he can’t destroy.

“We don’t need to talk about it,” Liam says carefully. For once he can smell Theo’s concern, his fear and his worry. “But I don’t want whatever it is to stop.”

Theo just stares at him but Liam listens carefully. His heartbeat is steadying. His breathing is relaxed.

“I don’t think you being my anchor is a product of me bringing you back from hell.”

“No?” Theo genuinely looks surprised. Liam shakes his head and moves towards the end of the bed, sitting himself facing towards Theo and daring to take one his hands in his own.

“I think it’s this,” he gestures between them, silently referring to whatever the hell feelings he’s been having and whatever made Theo kiss him in the elevator. “So do you want this to stop?”

“It’s barely begun,” Theo cracks a smile and squeezes Liam’s hand a little tighter. “But no.”

“Cool,” Liam nods, hopping off the bed still holding Theo’s hand. “Wanna get some food?”

“Sure,” Theo grins, but tugs Liam back towards him as he stands from the bed. Liam catches the hint and raises the hand not firmly secured in Theo’s grip to the back of his neck, tugging him down and kissing him quickly and assuredly. Theo catches Liam’s hip with his free hand and keeps him there, deepening the kiss for a moment, not wanting to push too far. He finally lets go with a smile and shoves Liam towards the door.

“You offered me food,” he reminds Liam who is looking at him, somewhat confused and dazed. “I’m starving.”

Theo listens in and Liam’s heart is controlled and calm. His breathing is in check.

Liam can hear Theo crystal clear and he can see him with even greater clarity. He’s not dizzy now and he’s not tense or raging. He’s not destroying the room and he’s not trembling at the thought of another supernatural enemy. He thinks he might just be ok with this arrangement, with this unspoken knowledge of feelings. With Theo as his anchor.