The Bi Bard

His thoughts must have been enough to silence the outside world. The voices and steps and music. Because the next thing he knew, there was a hand on his arm, forcing him to turn around with a force that only matched an owner accusing him of theft.  

He was clearly shocked when he turned around. More shocked when he was met with the smiling face of you.  

"Oh, I knew it!" your voice was excited and bright. You touched a hand to your chest. "Oh, Benjamin, it's so good to see you!" 

Dmitry paused. Benjamin?  

You paused, a clear moment of disappointment pulling at your features that you clearly tried to mask. "It's me! Remember?" 

You said your name like Dmitry would have heard it a thousand times. It was still a mystery to him.  

"You have to be joking," you continued. "You're going to stand there and pretend that you don't recognize someone that you practically grew up with?" 

Dmitry could not have given a reasonable explanation for what came out of his mouth if someone had held him at gun point, "Ah, yes! I'm sorry! My eyes must be getting weaker with my old age." 

You scoffed and hit his arm. "You are the same age as I am and I recognized you from across the road, Benjamin. I appreciate your jokes and tricks even less now than I did when we were children." 

He took a beat to come up with the best course of action here, "You're right, I'm so sorry, dear friend." 

He didn't have a reason for the kindness that he was showing to this stranger, but he found it hard to care about such reasoning when you stepped forward and hugged him.  

The hug was warm. Familiar despite him having no true history with you. Was this your way? To hug people as if they were the most important person you had ever met? Dmitry was beginning to feel jealous of this long-lost Benjamin.  

"I have missed you so much," you mumbled to him. The words were so sweet he could have been convinced that honey was poured directly into his ear. He could have melted.  

You stepped back and his mind was still spinning.  

"Oh, I wish I wasn't so busy." you frowned at him. "My mother has given me a whole list. We must find some time to spend together." 

"Of course," he agreed, assuming that such a time would never come.  

"I have a great idea!" you grabbed his arm. Those words didn't always lead to the best conclusions for him. "Meet me in this spot tomorrow at this time. We can go great something from a nearby shop. How does that sound?" 

"Sounds perfect," he replied, already planning on how to avoid the area tomorrow. "I'll see you then." 

"See you then!" 

You gave him one more hug before rushing off again. And in a matter of fleeting seconds, you had left some kind of mark on Dmitry. One that he may never understand and may never want to.  

He never planned to go back to that spot. Never. He planned to spend the next several days avoiding the area with every ounce of his power.  

But something drew him back.  

Maybe it was some deep desire to show you kindness. Maybe it was his loneliness pushing him.  

All that he knew was that he somehow found himself walking slowly to that very same spot the next day.  

One of the most vivid memories he would have in his life would be the bright smile on your face when you saw him again. He got another hug that made it feel like whatever poor choice he was making was definitely worth it.  

You two spent the day roaming. Walking from place to place. You would tell stories. Dmitry would agree with them. Laugh in the right places, agree in the right places. It was an old skill for him at this point. Not something new for him.  

A good person would have never let it get to this point.  

A somewhat good person would have never let it go past the first day.  

Instead, Dmitry came back the next day.  

And the next.  

And soon he had met you every day for a week.  

You would walk at times. You would find small shops for treats and food that Dmitry would have never dreamed of stepping foot in. There was one day when you sat together and you simply read to him. For hours. And he loved every second of it.  

He continued to laugh and agree with your stories and memories. At some point, it began to feel less like lying and more like he simply was Benjamin. That he had stripped the skin from himself and wore this Benjamin's face around like a silly mask.  

He told himself every night that it would be the last time that he saw you. But every morning, he would find himself justifying turning that corner, walking down that road, smiling when he met your eyes. As if a force called him to you. As if you were some kind of siren creature and your song was kindness instead of calling Dmitry to his death.  

Dmitry had never planned on telling you the truth. Truly, he didn't. He thought that one day he would allow "Benjamin" to disappear into the crowd and never be seen again.  

And then, you invited him to dinner.  

It was after your day spent together. The second where you had spent most of the time simply reading to him.  

You had made it back to the usual meeting spot. At some point, he had grabbed your hand. Likely when helping you up from where you two had been resting before. He had no reason for why he had yet to let go. 

He was ready to say his goodbyes and continue on his way. He would probably do the same thing as last time: promise to not go back tomorrow but be there bright and early to keep you company.  

But you spoke before he could even entertain that plan, "I should have asked you earlier, but my mother is making a lovely dinner tonight. She asked me to invite you." 

Dmitry's voice failed him for the first time in a long time.  

"Obviously, if you do not want to go, then you don't have to, but I would like for you to," you added.  

He took a breath.  

His momentary hesitation was enough to get you to attempt to escape the silly idea, "You know what? Never mind, ignore what I said-" 

"I need to be honest with you." 

Dmitry didn't let go of your hand, unable to unclasp his fingers to allow you a chance to leave him if you were angry. You stared at him with big, expectant eyes.  

He paused. It was as if the wide-eyed look you gave him was enough to stop him dead in his tracks for a few seconds.  

"What," you asked.  

He took a breath. "I'm not Benjamin." 

It was your turn to pause. Just for a few moments before you spoke up again, "I must be honest with you then." 

His eyebrows furrowed at your sentence.  

"I knew that already." 

Dmitry's jaw fell slack at your confession. "You knew? How could you have possibly known?" 

"I had my suspicion on the second day when you seemed to hate that pastry we got," you explained with a simple shrug of your shoulders. "Then, I started slipping in a few... telltales about our- or my childhood and you would just agree with everything." 

He ran his free hand over his face. Again, he had never pulled his hand out of yours.  

"My parents are aware, as well," you added.  

"Why never confront me? Why not say something?" 

You tilted your head, as if studying him. "You seemed as if you needed it." 

He looked confused.  

"You seemed lonely," you admitted. "Every time I saw you, you seemed lost. And who would keep up such a ridiculous act where the only prize was company, if they weren't lonely?" 

There was no response.  

"Come," you said, tugging on his hand. "My mother has spent ages making sure dinner was good enough to impress you." 

The idea of someone putting so much thought into doing something for him- to impress him- was enough to shock Dmitry into simply following along as you guided him.  

You twirled him through turns and crowds as if you had choreographed the walk beforehand, and he had merely missed rehearsals.  

"Wait!" his voice was sharp enough to spook himself. You too had hit a barren stretch of road.  

You turned around with a small laugh tickling your lips. "What could you possibly need now? Have we not gone over- Oh!" 

He dragged you into a hug. A strong hug. Almost stronger than the one that you had given him on that first day you had seen him in the street.  

There may never be a time when Dmitry feels safe enough to explain everything to you. The story of Ana and Vlad and the great con that almost was. About fleeing and the ballet and being left alone on that bridge. But he was beginning to believe that you would never ask him to. Not until he was ready.  

Because for now, you were hugging him back. Holding him as if he were an old friend. As if he hadn't lied about who he was. As if he hadn't given you every reason not to show him an ounce of kindness.  

And that one action may be enough to keep him out of that fog that he had spent so long stuck in. 

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Tag lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique @qardasngan

------------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

The only thing you didn't remember was falling asleep. 

You grumbled to yourself before standing up and grabbing a change of clothes. You didn't even bother checking the rest of the house before going to the bathroom. You couldn't be bothered. Lars was a good guy; you knew that he wouldn't have left the place dirty or taken anything.  

What you didn't know was that Lars was sitting on your couch still. He felt awful leaving while you were clearly still upset. He wanted to help. To support you.  

So, instead, he cleaned.  

He didn't vacuum because that would be too loud. But he folded the dry laundry that had been left in the dryer. He cleaned the dishes that had been stacking up. He dusted. He wiped down the dining room table, organizing the mail left there into work, personal, and government related. He made sure the windows were clean. He checked the scent thing that was sitting in the living room. Still good. He'd cleaned the bathroom at four in the morning so it would be nice and fresh when you used it next.  

He had simply run out of chores. For a little while, he dozed off on your couch. However, that didn't last long because sleeping in a strange environment made him a little sick to his stomach.  

He heard the shower start. It made him spring up. 

He went to the kitchen and pulled out ingredients immediately. He wasn't a great cook. Nowhere close. But he could make breakfast. A good enough breakfast.  

You were confused when you stepped out of the bathroom later. Because you had just slipped on some fresh clothes and found yourself smelling something being made in the kitchen that you have definitely not stepped foot in this morning.  

Lars was just turning off the stove when you entered the room.  

He grinned. "Good morning." 

You paused. "You're still here." 

"I... I felt wrong leaving you on your own last night," he explained. "I'm sorry." 

"It's okay," you replied. "Thank you. For staying and for breakfast." 

"Right, right," he said as he looked down at the pan he was holding before going to put the food on a plate. "Go sit. I'll bring the plate over." 

He only had one plate. He didn't make himself food. You didn't get a chance to ask him about it because as soon as he was there putting the plate down, he was gone. Hurrying around the kitchen to clean up as if he had never been there.  

Pancakes. He'd made pancakes and eggs. They were messy and misshapen but perfect.  

You couldn't help it. There were tears in your eyes again.  

"Wait, wait, please don't cry," Lar's voice came out as a plea as he found himself standing at your side again. "I'm sorry. I... I wanted to help-" 

"No, no," you waved off his worry. You gave him a sad smile. "This is just... really nice, Lars. Thank you." 

He let out a small huff. "Oh, okay, good." 

You wiped your eyes before explaining further, "My mom was my grandparents' only child. I was her only child. Most of my relatives passed when I was little. No aunts or uncles or siblings. No one to really call." 

"I was the first one to visit?"  

You nodded.  

There was a short pause. "I was told that when people die, you go over and sit. You go over and sit and let them eat so they aren't alone." 

Another sad smile. "Thank you, Lars." 

He grinned back. "I'm gonna go finish the dishes." 

"You don't have to-" 

"I want to."  

You finally relented, letting him walk away from the dining table as you started cutting off a bit of pancake to try.  

It was perfect. Really perfect. And maybe it was just your heightened emotional state, but the flavor was enough to stun you into silence as you grabbed another bite.  

There was a quiet sigh. One that was meant for yourself, but that Lars definitely heard.  

He cleared his throat, trying to hide his proud smile, "I... I noticed that your fridge was getting a little empty." 

You paused. "Yeah... being in a store in front of a bunch of people hasn't really sounded like a good time." 

He hummed.  

You poked at the pancake in front of you. "And staying focused has become nearly impossible. All my energy has gone to... all of my mom's shit-" 

"I could go," he cut you off. "With you. Or for you, if that would be better. Or not at all. Forget I said anything." 

"Maybe after church tomorrow?" your suggestion calmed whatever was racing through Lars's head. "If you're up for it?" 

He grinned. "That sounds great." 

You smiled back at him. Not a sad one. A real one. Your first real smile since everything had happened.  

And it made that moment of snapping at him in that little cubicle worth it. 

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Tag Lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique @qardasngan "Yearbook" Series - @marstheflower16

----------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

On Tuesday, you were still gone and it only made him worry more and more. He was not even half as productive as he usually was. His brain was preoccupied with worry about you.  

By Wednesday, he was taking every free moment to call, using a little pink sticky note you had given him with your phone number and address. He had given you one with the same information. Mostly to be kind, but a small part of him did hope you would use it at some point. 

By Thursday, he was asking Karin and Gus what to do.  

Gus mentioned that you might just be sick. Some kind of cold or flu. It was the season for it after all.  

Karin recommended calling, but Lars had tried that. You never answered.  

That was when Karin recommended stopping by. Gus mentioned that it might be a little weird if he just turned up at someone's door. Karin waved him off.  

Karin knew that Lars and you were friends. At least, friendly. He had mentioned you more than any other co-workers. Surely, they were close enough for him to check in.  

Gus didn't agree.  

Lars spent the whole night panicking about was and wasn't right. He didn't want to overstep, but if you were in trouble, it wouldn't be right for him to avoid helping you. 

When you didn't arrive at work on Friday, Lars had made his decision.  

He wouldn't skip work. No, no, that might be weird, like Gus said. But after work, he would go to the address you had given him and check on you. Just to make sure that you were okay and maybe even to see when you were coming back to work.  

He didn't second guess his plan until he was at your door.  

That was when Gus's voice creeped back into his mind. About how creepy this could look. How weird it could have been. What if you didn't want to see him? What if you weren't sick and in trouble and were just avoiding him? What if he had done something to completely screw up whatever friendship you two had formed? 

God, he should go home. No, no. He should stay. He needed to be sure.  

And it continued like that for a while. Back and forth and back and forth.  

He walked up to it and away from it five times. The first time, he made it a few steps away before turning back around. The second, a step further. The third, he walked all the way back to his car before going back. The fourth was just down the singular porch step. The fifth was less walking away and more spinning in place before he very abruptly knocked on the door.  

There were a few minutes of silence. Lars's glanced around the house. This was not a big enough place for it to take multiple minutes to get to the door.  

But then, just as Lars had been giving up hope and accepting that he wasn't going to get to see you, the door creaked open.  

Lars had grown very accustomed to seeing you ready for work. In nice clothes and always put together. It always seemed to be your baseline.  

That was not what he saw that day.  

That day, he was met with the image of you in pajamas. In pajamas with your hair clearly not cared for. Your face looked different. Puffy, Lars decided. You looked sad. No, in pain. That's the phrase Lars was looking for. In pain. 

For a moment, he thought maybe it had been as simple as you being sick.  

"Lars?"  

But you couldn't be. The way his name sounded coming from you was too smooth. Not hooked on the barbs of a sore throat or a cough. Just... normal. As Lars had always heard it.  

"What are you doing here?" 

He took a breath before responding, "You haven't been at work all week." 

You nodded. "I'm aware." 

"I wanted to make sure you were okay." 

There was a pause. A long one.  

You wanted to wave him off. To tell him that you were fine and you'd be back at the beginning of the week. But you couldn't. Because he was here. He had taken the time and the care to show up and check. And that was apparently enough to break you into a million pieces.  

Lars had no idea what to do when you started crying in front of him. None.  

He had been around crying people before, but this was very different. He cared about you a lot. And you had suddenly started sobbing in front of him. His hands moved awkwardly at his sides, offering to reach out and hold you, but quickly going back to resting at his sides like the idea was causing preemptive pain.  

"I... I'm sorry-" 

"No, no," you stopped him. You were still shaking. Still crying. "It's not you. You're fine. Great. Thank you for coming, Lars." 

He nodded, a small grin on his face for a few seconds.  

"Um," you stepped to the side. "Come in. I'll... I'll get you some water." 

Lars followed you inside. You felt like an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.  

"Sorry about the mess." 

Lars didn't notice it. Not really.  

He was much more focused on you. On the way your feet seemed to drag, no matter how hard you fought for them not to. On how low your shoulders were. How down you looked compared to how he had gotten used to seeing you.  

"Are you sick," Lars asked as you walked back in from the kitchen with a glass of water.  

You shook your head as he took the glass from you. "I... My mom died last weekend, Lars." 

"Oh..." 

You nodded slowly. "I moved here to help her out. She needed it. I've been living with her for a while now. And now, she's gone." 

Lars looked down for a moment. "I didn't know." 

"I didn't talk about it," you replied with a shrug. "I should've called or something. I've just been so exhausted that doing anything more than calling out of work felt like too much." 

He saw more tears in your eyes. "Do you want me to go?" 

You let out a forced chuckle as you wiped your eyes. "No." 

He looked confused.  

"It's nice having someone here," you explained. "I... I'm not going to be any fun though. Probably just going to go to bed. Try to watch a movie." 

"I'll stay." 

Lars could think of two other people that would get that response from him. Karin and Gus. And even for them, it was a big maybe. But when he looked at you- the person he had seen smile like your teeth could reflect the sun- he couldn't get himself to say anything else.  

He followed you down the hall and to your room. He watched you go to the small tv in the corner of the room and put on a movie. He didn't recognize it. But that wasn't really important.  

You placed yourself on your bed, curling up into your pillow like you had so many times over the last week or so.  

Lars didn't know what to do. He looked around a bit before sitting on a nearby desk chair.  

You looked at him. He just grinned at you. You just put your head back down.  

"I... I lost my mom when I was really young," Lars spoke up after a few minutes. "And then, my father. And Bianca. I want to say it gets easier, but it still hurts. I don't know if it ever stops." 

You didn't look at him. Instead just closing your eyes.  

"But I think it's a good thing that it still hurts," he continued. "I avoided my pain for a long time, and it just made me push people away. Losing Bianca reminded me that there is so much that we miss when we close ourselves off." 

Still no response.  

"Isn't it better to love and get hurt than to not love at all," he asked. "Isn't it better to accept the pain than to ignore everything else in the hopes of avoiding it?" 

You finally turned to look at him again.  

"I don't want to ever go back to who I was before losing Bianca. And I don't want you to become that way." 

There was a tense moment. 

"I just mean that you're not alone in this," he explained. "I promise. And I promise that there will be good after this. No matter how far away it feels right now." 

You nodded at him. "I'll take your word for it." 

He grinned back at you. "That's good enough for me." 

You turned back to the movie.  

You never did get to see the ending of it before your eyes slowly closed and pulled you into a dreamless sleep.  

Lars barely noticed when you had fallen asleep. He just managed to hear the change in your breathing and the way your body relaxed into the mattress.  

He stood up slowly, walking over to grab a small throw blanket from the end of your bed and lay it over you.  

He stopped for a moment, just to look at you. He didn't want you to go through this. You were the last person who deserved to go through this. But if you had to, then he would do everything he could to be there for you. To hold you up and keep you from crumbling.  

As long as you'll let him. 

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Tag Lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique @qardasngan "Yearbook" Series - @marstheflower16

----------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

"Oh, hello!" Lars jumped at the sudden voice behind him. He turned to see you. You standing with a cup of coffee and a smile that could probably blind a pilot. "Sorry, I would've grabbed you a cup but didn't want to risk it getting cold. I didn't know when you'd be in." 

Lars waited for a moment before letting out a small "Hi" with a small nod.  

You introduced yourself as you placed your coffee cup down. Lars noticed that you never tried to shake his hand. He chose not to question it.  

There was a small pause while you turned back around. You see it immediately. The tension on his face and in his shoulders.  

"You won't need to train me or anything," you explained quickly. "I got training for a bit before I started and my old job used this same software, so I'm already ready to just start going." 

Lars nodded stiffly. That was only a small part of what he had been worried about.  

"You'll barely know I'm here," you promised before sitting in your desk chair and turning away from him. "Unless I need the bathroom, then I might have to ask for directions." 

But Lars did know you were there.  

He couldn't ignore actually.  

Most people may be able to adjust to someone's presence in a few days. Maybe a few weeks if they weren't quite clicking. But Lars couldn't.  

He was too aware of you being there. Of your things being scattered around.  

You kept them to your side of the cubicle, but it didn't change anything. He could still smell whatever scent device you had put in the corner. Sometimes it was fine. Like flowers or like the air after rain had fallen. Other times there were these bitterly sweet scents that made him feel like he'd taken a sip of perfume.  

He could still see the blinking of your lights, even when his back was turned to them because they'd illuminate the wall. Twinkling. On and off and on and off. Relentlessly... for hours every day.  

You'd also started humming during some point in the last few days. Lars was starting to wonder if you had some condition that would make you spontaneously combust if you went too long without making sound. That was the only explanation he had for why you seemed so insistent on muttering whatever tune came to mind. Always older, always picking at Lars's focus.  

Coffee had become a problem. Not intentionally, but it still was.  

Lars usually got coffee for himself. His old co-worker and him had a system before you showed up, but that crumbled to pieces. You tried to get him a cup of coffee on your second day, but you'd added too much creamer without realizing it. You felt sick to your stomach when you realized Lars had taken a single sip of the drink, maybe.  

Lars didn't try to get you coffee. It was fine, just something that you'd noticed. He came in, got his own cup, and went about his work.  

It didn't take you long to realize that you and Lars were not going to be friends. Hell, you weren't even sure if you could call yourselves acquaintances. He never spoke, never waved, never grinned at you.  

It started to weigh on you. As you were getting ready, as you were driving to work, throughout the hours spent at your computer. Just the knowledge that this man you had to spend so much time with hated your guts right out of the gate and that you truly could not figure out for the life of you why that was.  

You tried. With the coffee. With a small bunch of fake flowers to lighten up the place. With kind words and smiles that always felt a little more forced than they should be.  

You thought you could ignore it. That other things would keep you busy enough to not think about the admittedly awkward man sitting just behind you.  

But you couldn't.  

You already had trouble making friends. Your free time was always completely booked up. Work was barely helping you scrap by in your situation. Home had become more of a second job than a place to find peace and solace.  

So, one day, you may have kinda, sorta snapped at him.  

You started the morning like usual. You placed your jacket over the back of the desk chair and went to put your lunch in the fridge and grab a coffee.  

Lars was there when you got back.  

You smiled at him. "Good morning, Lars." 

He didn't even respond. Not a small grin, not even a small grunt or nod to show that he had hurt you. Instead, he just sat down, immediately turning his back to you.  

And for some reason, that was enough to break you.  

You waited for a bit. Stared at your computer screen until you heard Lars get up from his chair and go get himself some coffee. And then, when he sat back down, your patience had decided that it was not going to put up with this a moment longer.  

"Y'know what," you muttered before turning around in your chair. Lars's back was still to you. "I don't know what I could have possibly done to piss you off so severely, but you need to grow up and communicate! I have tried to be accommodating but nothing I do has been good enough for you, Lars! What have I done to make you hate me so much? Tell me!" 

Lars paused, hands frozen over his keyboard. He slowly turned around.  

You hummed at him, pushing for some kind of answer from the commonly quiet man. Well, quiet except for when he was complaining.  

"I don't hate you." 

The four words hit like a punch to the chest. It completely disarmed you. You could have bet money that you stopped breathing entirely. But you somehow had to air to let out a huff through your nose.  

"You're very nice," he continued. "But sometimes it can be... a lot." 

"A lot?" 

"I get overwhelmed." his shoulders drew up towards his ears, his hands starting to awkwardly rub against each other. As if speaking up caused him some kind of physical pain. "When too much is happening all at once." 

"Oh," you mumbled, guilt suddenly chewing away at your stomach. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"It's not your fault," he replied. "It's my problem." 

"I can still try to not make it worse." you shrugged at him. "Do you... Do you know what's causing the worst of it?" 

It was Lars's turn to let out a huff. "That scent thing you have. Some of the smells are fine but the others are really strong." 

"Okay," you nodded as you spoke. "I can find some milder scents. Or you could give me a list of which ones you're okay with." 

He grinned at you, shoulders relaxing a bit. "Thank you." 

You grinned back. "Anything else?" 

"Your lights," he pointed up at them. "You set them on a blinking pattern a lot. That with the fluorescent lights in the office and the computer screen makes my head hurt." 

"I'll keep them on a steady light or turn them off," you promised.  

"Thank you." 

"It's no problem," you said. "But please don't just shut me out like that again. I'm already having trouble settling in and not feeling like an outsider. I don't need it from the one person I see every day when I'm at work." 

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I didn't mean to make things worse." 

"Thank you. I'm sorry for snapping at you." 

"It's okay." 

There was a long pause. It just wasn't a bad one this time. It wasn't full of grumpiness or awkwardness. It just... was.  

Lars turned away first, a small grin still gracing his lips as he looked back at his computer. You copied his motion, your own grin mimicking his.  

That served as the beginning of something much nicer. Something better.  

And maybe it was enough to keep this move from feeling like a complete mistake. 

----------------------

Tag Lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique

----------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

"I saw your light on and I was worried about how late you were staying," he explained quickly. 

"You're also here late," I replied.  

"Yeah, but I'm walking out the door right now and you don't even have your coat on." he motioned toward the back of my desk chair.  

I let out a quiet sigh. "I have a lot of pieces to get labeled and ready for the student gallery." 

"That's right," Ryland said, walking further into the room. He moved to look over my shoulder at the piece I was looking at. "Is... Is that Cthulhu?" 

"Yup," I confirmed. "I offered a larger-than-life prompt for those into making up creatures or just fans of monsters, I guess. This student got really into Lovecraft stories around Halloween. I'm not surprised this is what he picked." 

"I feel... really uneasy right now." 

"Same," I mumbled. "But that's how I feel every time I see Cthulhu." 

"That's kinda the point of him, isn't it?" 

"Is Cthulhu a he or an it?" 

"I think that might be a pointless debate for the god-like tentacle monster." 

I laughed quietly. "Guess so." 

Ryland chuckled with me. "Come on. You have until the end of next week for this gallery, right?" 

"That's why I should stay on top of this. It'll pile up fast." 

"I'll help you during my free period tomorrow, if that means you won't spend all night here," he offered.  

"Dangerous promise," I replied, turning to look at him.  

He chuckled again, looking around for a second. "You walk home. I don't want you to be alone in the dark." 

"A gentleman," I muttered before standing up and going to grab my coat. Ryland stepped back, almost stumbling as he did so. I assumed it was his normal level of clumsiness. "I'm holding you to that promise." 

I grabbed my bag of stuff before saving my stuff on my computer and turning it off. I was in the middle of walking to turn off the lights to the room when I noticed Ryland still standing in the middle of the room.  

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "Ryland? Mr. Grace-" 

"Can I walk you home," he asked. He looked nervous asking. Shifting on his feet, hands switching between small tasks to keep him busy, face kind of... tight.  

"You don't have to do that," I replied.  

"I want to," he insisted. "We go the same direction. And it's already getting dark. And having company would be nice." 

"Okay," I said, nodding at him. "Can't do that from inside the classroom though." 

"Nope, no I cannot, that's a great point," he muttered as he followed me out. I hit the lights, but he was the one to pull the door shut behind us.  

We walked in step to the bike rack where Ryland had locked up his bike. He was trying to rush to unlock the bike, trying to keep me from waiting for too long. I just looked away, trying to make him feel like I wasn't just staring at him.  

"Okay, got it, got it," he muttered before tucking the chain and lock in his bag.  

"Do you like having your bike," I asked. "I don't know if I live far enough to justify it, but I imagine it'd be nicer. Wouldn't have to worry about paying for upkeep for a car either." 

"Well, I wish I could say that the bike was a choice," he chuckled as we started walking out of the parking lot. He was wheeling his bike to his side. "But yeah, I guess it's nice. Don't know if it does much to protect against the elements. Just makes the wind feel stronger really." 

"Ah, not that much nicer then?" 

"Not exactly," he said.  

Our walk continued like that. Casual and nice.  

"What were the prompts for the gallery this quarter," he asked after a while. "You never told me." 

"I believe I originally said that it was going to be a surprise." 

"Right and then you spoiled one of them with Cthulhu back there," he argued.  

"Good point," I mumbled before nodding. "Fine, fine, I guess I could tell you early." 

He mumbled a quick "yes!" to himself to celebrate getting the information from me.  

"So, you know about the Larger Than Life prompt," I said. "There's also one called The Large Importance of Small Details for those who like a good challenge and then the Love in the World Around Us prompt, since I didn't have a real Valentine's Day project this year." 

"Nice," Ryland replied. "Did you want to do a Valentine's Day project?" 

"Well, some of my students wanted to do one but it just didn't end up working with the schedule we had to stick to at the time. They're the ones who suggested it." 

"That's great." he smiled. "Your students are really engaged." 

"As you get to the later courses, students tend to be more involved. They're there for the purpose of making art. Why not let them make the art that speaks to them?" 

He was still just smiling at me.  

"Am I rambling?" 

"No, no, not at all." he shook his head. "I like seeing you get all passionate about stuff." 

I grinned, looking down briefly as my face warmed up.  

I really enjoyed Ryland's company. I always had. He was funny and sweet. He was smart too. Smart as all hell. But he never let that get in the way of his kindness.  

It felt silly to say but if I could spend forever talking with him like this, then I would.  

So, if I stumbled a few times to justify slowing our incredibly short walk a little bit, who was really going to judge me? 

Getting to my door felt a little bittersweet. I wanted to spend more time with Ryland but inviting him in felt inappropriate. And potentially too embarrassing if he said no.  

"I'll... I'll see you tomorrow," Ryland said quietly.  

"Yeah, yeah, see you," I replied. "When you help me with the cards for the gallery." 

"Of course." he nodded at me. "Have a good night." 

"You too," I mumbled.  

I walked inside, trying to ignore how warm my face was. When I got through the door and locked it, I moved to peak out at the front. Ryland was still out there, putting on his helmet and getting ready to go.  

And then I watched him ride back in the direction that we had already come from.  

I paused. That little- 

Ryland may have lied to me about going the same direction as me after school, but he kept his promise. During his free period, he let me tuck him in the copy room and cut the labels that I had already made for the gallery.  

After school that day, he waited for me by his bike. He waved at me before explaining that he was hoping to walk me home again. I agreed. 

And that's how it went for the next week.  

Ryland would help me during his free period. I would question why he didn't have anything to do for his students. He would shrug and say that all of his stuff was taken care of. I wouldn't believe him. He'd help me anyway.  

We'd also have lunch together, but that wasn't new. We both had been hired the same year, which made us kind of the odd ones out at first. We'd spent lunch together originally just for the company. It was how I figured out that I liked him far more than someone was supposed to like a colleague.  

After school, I would meet him outside. He would walk next to me with his bike next to him. Then, I'd watch him turn around and bike in the opposite direction of my place.  

I thought about calling him out for the blatant lie that he'd told me, but I could never bring myself to ask him the question. I liked having him around. I liked walking home with him. Nothing really happened, but sometimes we'd get a little too close on the sidewalk and our hands would just barely brush. It would be enough to make my body go warm and my heart flutter. And enough to keep me from questioning his statement about my place "being on the way" to his.  

It was on the fourth day of this pattern that Ryland presented me with a bike helmet and no further explanation.  

"Wow, that's... nice," I commented, unsure what he was planning.  

"It's for you," he explained quickly once he noticed my confusion.  

"I don't have a bike," I replied.  

"I know but look what I got!" he stepped to the side to show two bars sticking out from either side of his back wheels. "For you." 

"For me?" 

"You just step on them, hold onto me, and then I pedal us wherever we need to go." he smiled like it was the most brilliant idea he'd ever had. "I promise you don't have to worry about me crashing. I'm very good at bike riding." 

I grabbed the helmet from him. "That's really sweet, Ryland." 

His face started looking a little pink as he stammered, "It's... It's nothing. I just felt bad always rolling my bike around and you were mentioning thinking about getting a bike for yourself. Think of it like a test drive." 

"Wouldn't that require me to be the one pedaling?" 

"Well, maybe to someone who wasn't such a gentleman." 

I chuckled. "Alright then..." 

I placed the helmet on my head and clipped it. It was tight. Too tight. I laughed at myself before going to adjust the strap. I could get a hold of the plastic piece to adjust it. 

"Oh, wait, here," Ryland mumbled, stepping forward. His hands pushed mine down before finding the plastic. He moved it carefully until I was able to tell him I was comfortable. "That good?" 

I nodded. "Yeah, yup. It's great." 

He grinned before pulling his hands back. "Well, come on, let's get you home." 

And so, my new way home became standing on two bars on a bike with my arms around Ryland's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

I couldn't lie; it was nice. It was nice to be so close to him. To have an excuse to touch him that didn't feel like I was overstepping. His sweaters were always soft, and I could feel the vibrations of his words in his shoulders. And his laugh. The feeling of his laugh was enough to make me dizzy.  

I had done a great job at hiding how I felt.  

At least, I thought I did. I was certain that if I had made it obvious then Ryland would have said something about it by now.  

I realized that I was wrong just two days before the gallery.  

Submissions had technically closed the day before to give me enough time to get every labeled and ready to go. But a young girl from one of my later classes found me in the morning. She was frantic and painting with a piece clutched very carefully in her hands.  

"I know that I'm late, but I have something for the gallery," she explained.  

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry-" 

"Please!" she stopped me. "Please look at it before you say no. I really think you'll like it. I spent all of my free time on it." 

I looked at her for a few moments before letting out a sigh and taking the piece from her.  

My heart dropped through the floor.  

It was me. Not just me, but me and Ryland. The two of us standing opposite each other by his bike. Oh my god. It was him adjusting my helmet. He was smiling at me. I was smiling back. We were standing close. Way too close.  

"Do you like it," the girl asked. I looked at her again. "It's for the "Love in the World Around Us" prompt." 

"Honey, this is me," I said.  

She nodded. "You and Mr. Grace. You two are in love, right?" 

"What," I asked.  

She waved my shocked question off like we were both in on the same secret. "It's okay. Everyone knows already." 

"Right, right, knows what?" 

"About you and Mr. Grace!" 

I hummed. 

"Can I please show it at the gallery? Please!" 

I looked at the painting and then back at her. She looked so hopeful and the piece was so well done. I couldn't turn down a student who was clearly so passionate; it would go against the entire purpose of the gallery in the first place.  

So, I nodded.  

"Yeah, sure, we can show it," I said. "How about you go get one of the prompt cards and fill it out, so I can get this ready to be shown." 

She nodded and ran over to the stack of blank cards.  

I thought that maybe luck would be on my side. That maybe Ryland wouldn't show up to the gallery.  

I don't know why I was so stupid.  

He actually showed up early. To help set up. 

I kept him busy with the other displays. He didn't question me at all. Because that was Ryland's way. Kindness without question. It was just who he was.  

I was happy to get caught up in greeting parents and students and teachers. It was a great distraction from the ticking time bomb that I knew was sitting on one of the walls.  

The night itself went off without a hitch. Parents were sweet and the students were all so proud of themselves and their friends. It reminded me that this project was always worth it. Even with the stress and the later hours to get everything done and set up, it was worth it to just see it all come together.  

I saw Ryland looking at the different pieces and chatting with a few of our shared students. Every now and then, his eyes would find mine. He'd smile and nod. I would do the same. It was nice to have someone who felt so involved in the whole process. He seemed just as happy about the night as I was. Just as proud.  

I lost track of Ryland at the end of the night. I was standing by the door after telling everyone that they could pick up their pieces the following school week and that it was amazing to see everyone. I shook hands and wished people a great weekend.  

Once the place was empty, I turned to see what I expected to be just a room of pieces for me to pack up and put away.  

Instead, Ryland was there. Still.  

And he was staring at a piece.  

I walked over and felt my heart dropping just like it did when the girl handed me that piece. He was staring at the painting of the two of us. the one sitting directly under the sign that said, "Love in the World Around Us".  

I stood next to him, keeping my distance.  

"It's beautiful," he said softly.  

"It was a last-minute addition," I replied. "She showed up the morning after submissions closed and begged for it to be included. Couldn't say no after I saw how excited she was." 

"Good." 

I let out a huff. "I should've checked with you before putting a painting up with your likeness in it." 

"I don't mind." he shrugged at me. "She really got the details of my sweater down." 

I found myself laughing before I could stop it. "I'm not surprised. She's always been good with small details. I thought she'd go for the other prompt." 

"Must've been waiting for inspiration." 

"I guess so." 

He looked over at me with a soft grin. "Come on. I'll help you clean up." 

"You don't have to-" 

"I want to," he stopped me. "Besides, I'm your ride home." 

The rest of the evening was quiet.  

Even the bike ride to my place.  

I think we both knew that there was something that needed to be talked about. Neither one of us wanted to be the first to say anything.  

Ryland was the first to speak up as he came to a stop in front of my place, "Your stop." 

"Thank you, good sir," I muttered, hopping off the back.  

He put the kickstand down and got off. I almost jumped when he pulled me into a hug. "Tonight was great. You should be proud." 

I hugged him back. "Thank you, Ryland." 

He gave me one more squeeze before moving back.  

"Well, I guess this is good night," I said.  

"I guess so," he replied. "Good night." 

I looked at him for a moment, questioning if I should say something. Do something. But then he finished clipping the helmet to his bag and looked back at me and I just froze. The little grin on his face and how kind he looked. His glasses sitting just a little further down his nose. I just couldn't do it. Instead, I waved awkwardly before scrambling to my door. 

I regretted my choice as it clicked shut. I was such an idiot. Such an idiot.  

I looked out the window and saw that he hadn't gotten on his bike yet. Hadn't even kicked up the kickstand.  

I had time. Not much, but it was time.  

It was a miracle I didn't put a hole in my wall with how hard I swung it open before basically running outside. It was loud enough to make Ryland turn around.  

"Hey, everything alright-" 

I didn't even entertain the question, let alone an answer to it. Instead, I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him forward, planting my lips on his like they belonged there.  

And God, they may have. There were a few seconds of hesitation on his end before I felt his hands resting on my back to keep me where I was. His lips moved against mine, and it felt like something we had done a hundred times before. Millions, maybe.  

I never liked to entertain fantasies of romantic relationships. Of futures that may never be. But this moment felt as if I had dreamed about it for years. Since I had met him. Even if I couldn't remember them clearly, it settled something in my mind. Something clicking into place and calming whatever anxieties could have been floating around in there.  

I pulled away rather abruptly, but it was just because I needed to see him. See how he reacted.  

And to make sure both of us were getting enough air.  

Ryland's face was red as his voice found him again, "What- What was that for-" 

"I know you lied about my place being on the way to yours," I explained. "I knew the first day because I watched you turn your bike around and ride off." 

He paused, blinking at me a few times, "What-" 

I cut him off again, "I just never said anything because I really liked your company and wanted to have you around more. I... I like you, Ryland. A lot. So much, actually. And I really thought I was hiding it, but that piece at the gallery just made it so clear that I wasn't and that I needed to do something about what I felt. And I'm sorry if I've totally misread this-" 

Ryland cut me off this time, but not with words. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine again.  

I felt myself sigh and relax into him as his hands pressed more firmly into my back. My arms moved to wrap around his neck, a smile growing on my face.  

Ryland moved back just enough to speak, "I like you too... and I thought I was a better liar." 

I chuckled at him, resting my forehead on his.  

"Is now a good time to confess that I was actually staying up really late after walking you home because I wanted to see you during my free period so bad?" 

"I knew it!" I leaned back and gave him a stunned look. 

"It's not my fault your company is so enjoyable." 

"You could've helped during lunch or something." 

"We already saw each other at lunch to eat and grade. I didn't want you to give up eating to get the work done." 

"Oh my god, Ryland," I covered my face with my hands.  

"I just really liked having you around. As much as you'd let me." 

I looked at him again, my hands moving to touch his chest. I could feel his heartbeat under his shirt. It was fast. Scary fast.  

I almost smiled at the idea of making him so nervous.  

"You can have my company whenever you want it, Ryland. You always could." 

I could've sworn I felt his heart speed up under my hand.  

"But no more overworking yourself for it, you hear me?" I pointed at him as I pretended to scold him.  

"Heard," he said softly as he grinned. "Can I kiss you again?" 

"As many times as you want." 

"That's a dangerous promise." I didn't get a chance to respond to his comment before his lips found mine again.  

Another sigh left me as I imagined just how nice it would feel like this for the rest of my life... and thought about how I should be grateful that I'm so bad at keeping my feelings hidden. 

---------------------

Tag Lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique

---------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

I knew that I would have some kind of nervousness. I knew that. But this wasn't nervousness. It wasn't cold feet. It was certainty. A certainty that I shouldn't be doing this.  

It hit me like a gunshot. An immediate blow to the chest that could've knocked me over if I wasn't already sitting down. And it sat there like an anvil in my stomach.  

It was like I was an animal very suddenly realizing that I was caged and very unhappy about it.  

I can't remember if anyone tried to stop me when I left. My brain was fuzzy and static-filled as I made it to the door of the room and then towards the entrance of the venue.  

I didn't have a plan in place. I knew that going home wasn't an option. My partner would know I was there, and I wasn't ready to have that conversation just yet. Most of my family and friends were already at the wedding so I couldn't casually show up at their place.  

That left one place where I knew that I would find someone who cared about me. The only person who RSVP'd no to the event after the invitations had been sent out. The one that I knew was working because I had pretty much kidnapped Ellis and Shen from him.  

Stumbling into the ED felt like a good idea up until I actually made it through the door. Then, I felt like nothing more than an absolute idiot.  

I was short of breath. I kept running when I wasn't actively sitting in the Uber on the way here. My brain was going a million directions. All I knew was that I wanted to see Jack. I needed to see him.  

And for one rare moment, the universe was actually giving me what I knew I wanted.  

"What the hell?" Jack's voice was like a tether yanking me back down towards Earth. "What are you doing here? You're on vacation." 

"I'm supposed to be standing at a wedding," I replied, breath still finding me in annoyingly short bursts. "I left. The guests and my partner and all of it. I ran." 

Jack just stared at me for a minute.  

"Everyone's sitting there and waiting for a wedding to start that isn't going to happen." 

He blinked at me a few more times before moving to wrap an arm around me. "Come on." 

I let him guide me to the break room and into one of the chairs around the table. He moved toward the fridge and came back with a soda that he placed in front of me.  

"Haven't let anyone else touch them," he explained. "They're all yours." 

I didn't open it. I just looked at the can. I knew very well that I didn't have any of my sodas left in there. No one else usually touched them because they were a "funky flavor", even though it was just green apple, and I made sure not to buy another pack before my vacation unless I could finish it before I left.  

Someone bought them for me.  

"I didn't mean to distract you from work," I mumbled, finally pulling my eyes from the can's label. "I just... I didn't know where else to go. I didn't want to be on my own." 

"It's fine." Jack sat in the chair next to me. "Wanna talk about what happened?" 

I found a chuckle escaping me. It was breathy, insincere. "How much time you got?" 

"As much as you need." 

I grinned at him. "I don't know." 

Jack furrowed his eyebrows at me.  

"I don't know what happened," I explained. "I... He's a good guy. He really is. Kind and funny and so good to me. The wedding was amazing. Everything was planned perfectly. It's just... I was sitting there, getting ready, and realized that it wasn't right." 

He didn't respond. Hell, he didn't even move. His eyes never shifted from me for a second, not even to check that the E.D wasn't burning to the ground while he was in here with me.  

"I didn't know what to do," I mumbled. "I had dismissed everything else as just being nervous. Understanding how important this day was going to be. Then, all of a sudden, I was sitting there miserablewhen it should've been the happiest day of my life. It felt like running was all I had. It was all I could do." 

I didn't notice that I had started crying until Jack moved his chair closer to mine. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me over to him. I let him, head resting on his shoulder.  

"God, I'm awful," I muttered to him. "I'm a terrible person." 

"No, you're not-" 

"I am," I stopped him, leaning away so I could look him in the eye. "What I did was awful." 

"Doesn't mean you're an awful person," he mumbled back. "Not that simple, sweetheart." 

I took a breath.  

"Were there better ways to handle this? Sure. But this singular choice doesn't make you completely awful, you hear me? I'm not listening to you say that when I watch you do great work every day that you're here." 

I nodded at him. "Didn't think you'd take this so seriously." 

A small smirk pulled at his lips.  

"Who bought these," I asked, nodding at the can.  

Jack hesitated. "I did." 

"Why?" 

He shrugged. "Didn't want you to worry about it on your first day back from your vacation." 

"Thank you." 

He nodded, eyes moving away from me for a moment. Like the appreciation made him nervous, which was ridiculous. This was Jack Abbot, who was an absolute badass in the E.D whose hobby was working with a S.W.A.T team. Me saying thank you shouldn't have had any impact on him.  

"Why did you RSVP no," I asked.  

I don't know what prompted the question. Just curiosity or a desire to keep him with me for just a little while longer or maybe I wanted to know if he saw something that I missed that would make me feel better about my choices that day.  

"To the wedding," I added when he just stared at me. "Why didn't want to go?" 

"I did want to go," he replied. I saw him hesitating. Another thing that was out of character for him. "Shen and Ellis had already said they were going. You were obviously not gonna be available. I wanted to make sure night shift was covered." 

I paused. "No, they hadn't." 

"What?" 

"Ellis and Shen told me that they were holding off answering to see if you were going. They didn't RSVP until after I told them that you said no." 

He froze for a moment before forcing a chuckle. "Always so damn observant." 

"Yup," I confirmed. "And you're lying to me, which isn't normal. What is it, Jack?" 

He didn't answer.  

"Was it something with my partner? Did something make you upset or uncomfortable? Did I overstep by inviting you?" 

"No, no." he shook his head at me. "It's not like that. He seemed like a fine guy. I wasn't upset that you invited me. It wasn't like that-" 

"Then what was it? Why won't you just tell me?" 

"It doesn't matter." he stood up. "Do you need a phone? You should let someone know where you are." 

"Not until you tell me the truth." 

"For fuck's sake-" 

"Jack, just answer me." 

"Why do you need to know so bad?" 

"Because you're being fucking weird about it! What's going on?!" 

"It wasn't me!" 

The break room went dead silent. It felt as if the entire emergency department did too.  

I never imagined raising my voice at Jack. He was someone who I had always seen as painfully level-headed, even on the worst nights. But here we were, sitting in the aftermath of it all.  

And I wanted it to confuse me. I really did. But I wasn't confused. I felt like all it did was solidify something I already knew. Like something was always there and just suddenly coming into focus.  

It was Jack. The nervousness and cold feet. The reason I knew that I needed to run. It was all Jack.  

It was always supposed to be Jack.  

His deep breath made me focus on him again. "I wanted to be there, I did. But I couldn't sit at a wedding and watch you marry someone else." 

I took a similar deep breath. I didn't have a response for him. What in the hell was I supposed to say to that? 

"We've known each other for a long time," he continued. "It was my fault that I didn't do anything sooner. I wanted to support you because I shouldn't punish you for me being an idiot. But then the invitation came and I saw the pictures of you and him together and it just... it hurt. Too much. I'm sorry." 

Jack reached for the door, and I felt my mouth moving faster than my brain could have ever moved in order to stop it, "I left because it wasn't right." 

He froze, as if he was expecting to be able to drop all of this on me and leave like nothing had happened. 

"I left the wedding because it wasn't right," I explained, standing up so I could walk closer to him.  

I was used to holding some professional boundary with him. Maintaining an appropriate amount of distance to make sure he was comfortable and that no one started whispering, even though I had always thought about just stepping closer and wrapping my arms around him. About letting myself be as close to him as I desired all the time.  

This time, I ignored that old boundary, stepping so close that we were basically chest to chest. "I think there was a time that I loved that man. But I don't think I ever felt the same way about him that he felt about me. And I don't think I ever felt the same way about him that I feel about you." 

Jack mumbled my name as if my words could hurt him. Like little pokes of a needle and he's waiting for the actual sting of it pushing into the skin.  

"Some part of me knew that this wedding would never work because it wasn't you," I continued, reaching down to hold his hands in mine. "I wanted to believe that there wasn't a chance for us. That if something was gonna happen, then it would've happened by now. But I think I was wrong." 

Jack shifted his hands in mine, so he was holding mine instead of the other way around.  

"I love you, Jack," I muttered. "I really do. I have spent the last... I don't know how long being completely uncertain about my choices and how I felt, but that is the one thing I know for certain. The one thing that I have not ever second-guessed. I just ignored it." 

His hands moved to the sides of my face.  

I could see the turmoil on his face. The inner fight that was plaguing him. Deciding what to say, what to do, what was appropriate. All of it was so clearly written on his face. His name fell from my lips, a quiet plea to stay with me here and not spiral in his own thoughts because that was never what I wanted to put him through.  

"I love you too," he finally mumbled. It looked like it took years of weight off his shoulders.  

I reached up and touched his hands where they held my face, a small smile stretching on my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone as mine traced the length of his index finger.  

There was a long pause. 

And then finally, my voice found me again, "Kiss me." 

He shook his head.  

My heart dropped. "Jack-" 

"Not like this," he cut me off. "Not when you're dressed for a wedding to someone else. Not when I know you're exhausted. Just... not like this." 

I took a deep breath.  

He leaned over and kissed my forehead, probably sensing my disappointment. "It's not never. Just under different circumstances. When you're ready." 

"I'm ready now." 

He chuckled at my stubbornness. "You think you're ready. But I don't want to risk you looking back and regretting this. I don't want to risk feeling guilty about how we happened." 

I tilted my head a bit.  

"I want it be perfect." 

I grinned at him. "Okay." 

"Okay," he repeated. He stepped back and held his phone out to me. "Call somebody, please. I have to get back out there before things fall apart." 

I grabbed his arm before he could leave fully. "I don't know your passcode." 

"Bet you do." he winked at me before leaving the room.  

I sat back down at the table, staring at the screen. After a few moments, I reached out and typed in the only thing I thought could connect us: the year we met.  

The phone clicked as the screen unlocked.  

Oh.  

If I had any doubts about his hesitation earlier, I didn't now.  

And being so certain felt like everything I had spent so long dreaming of. Even though it found me in a different way than I expected it to. 

--------------------

Tag Lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique

--------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

You trust me. Maybe because I was the first person you met at the office. Maybe because I've been correcting your paperwork and not even asking for so much as a cup of coffee. Maybe because I asked you about your education and sat while you went on for ten minutes about how pretty your college campus was instead of what major you were a part of.  

You told me that you barely passed your exam to handle your firearm at work. You asked me how I'd done. You begged me to help you.  

Begged isn't the right word, is it? No. You asked. You asked politely and I said yes like some kind of idiot.  

You smell good. Really good. I could smell your body wash and deodorant while I was fixing your hold on the gun. It was like it activated a part of my brain that had been dormant without me even realizing it.  

I have to focus on teaching you. On shaping you into something great. I can do that.  

I just... I can't let this go any further. I can't. I have to be able to separate work from my life. It's essential. I know that.  

Maybe you should stop being so nice. With the coffee offers and smiles and excited laugh when you get better at something. I need to put up some kind of barrier. I have to.  

It's for the best... it has to be. I just hope you understand. 

I'm sorry. 

Tape #2: 

I never planned to record a second tape. But now I have a pile of blank ones waiting for me to use them.  

I didn't need a pile, just one more. I just needed to get this one last thing off my chest. 

God, that's not important. 

You were upset with me today. You have been for a while.  

After our interaction at the gun range, I pulled away. I didn't think it would hurt you as much as it hurt me, but it must have.  

I was just trying to set boundaries. Keep up a wall. Keep myself from slipping into bad habits. Bad behavior. I was scared of scaring you.  

You were angry. I could tell.  

You cornered me in an empty office. I could've gotten out. I've been at this a lot longer than you; it's not like you would win in a fight. I don't know why I was sitting there. But I did.  

You thought I was mad at you. That you'd done something wrong and instead of communicating my feelings, I just left you with no answer. You talked about paperwork and cases and things that you could never have been responsible for.  

I got distracted while you were ranting at me. I'm sorry. I meant to listen to everything you had to say, I did. But you were just there, so worried and so mad. I just stared. I kept staring. What else was I supposed to do? I can't think of the last time someone wanted my company that badly.  

I apologized. I groveled. I would've fallen to my knees, if you asked. But you wouldn't. Because you're good. Kind. Too forgiving, probably.  

You hugged me. I smelled your body wash again. Exactly as I remembered it from the gun range.  

I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for avoiding you. You deserve better. Better than that. Better than me.  

I'll make it up to you. Coffee every morning, answer every question you have. I will do everything you ask and everything you need but won't ask for.  

Thank you for forgiving me. I promise that I'll do everything to keep you from regretting it.  

Tape #3:  

I know that you aren't mine.  

We aren't together.  

Logically, I know that. I really do. We're colleagues. Co-workers. That's it.  

Knowing your route home, keeping an eye on you, remembering things about you... your routine. That's just friendly. Me being protective of someone that I'm training. That's it. That's all it is.  

So... why am I so angry?  

Not at you, never at you. But at him. That cocky cop who likes to walk around like he's hot shit when he's not.  

You didn't see through him. Not like that. You have become so skilled at interrogations and asking the right questions, but you're so... kind. Kind and hopeful. You just want to believe that there's good around you.  

That guy... That guy isn't it.  

He treats this job like some kind of shitty popularity competition.  

He asked you out. You told me. I asked if you agreed to go. You looked worried when I did. Like you could tell my opinion on the guy before I said it. I thought I was hiding it well. Maybe I wasn't... maybe you can just read me.  

I lied. I wished you luck and I was lying. I want him to crash and burn. I want it to go awful. I want you to come back to me. To mutter and complain and let me hug you.  

He doesn't deserve you. I know that. I know that he'll fuck this up somehow. I can feel it.  

I could get you to see it. To see what real love and care is. Show you the difference between big talk and someone who's actually worth a damn. You don't need to waste your time on that tool. Spend it with me. Let me teach you and show you everything you deserve. I could make everything so much better for you... 

No, no, no, I can't start that. I can't go down that rabbit hole.  

I don't want to scare you. I just... I want to know that you're safe and taken care of. And I... I don't want you to get distracted from your work.  

Yeah, yeah, that's it. Nothing more.  

It can't be more. 

It just... can't.  

Tape #4:  

Oh god. Oh god.  

I'm sorry.  

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  

You... I never wanted you to see me like that. To see me turn into that kind of mess. 

Okay, okay, hold on. Just... Just... I need a second.  

I'm sorry. I couldn't catch my breath.  

You were never meant to see me like that. I've never been like that at work.  

Something happened. Something cracked. I don't know why. It was the noise and the people at the office, and it was all just... wrong. I tried to fix it. I did. But I couldn't get it to work.  

You saw it. I thought I was hiding it well. I really did. But you saw. You saw.  

You pulled me into a separate room. You didn't rush, didn't make a big deal. I think you may have said something before, but I don't remember it. It's all... it's all a blur. I just remember your hand on my wrist and how your voice felt in my ears.  

You were so... quiet. Not just sitting and staring but not yelling or chatting or laughing.  

I thought I was gonna scare you. I didn't want to show you any of this stuff. It just... It just makes me look... weak. I know it does.  

You were different. You were so calm and collected and nice.  

I hate being touched when I'm like that. I've had people try before, and it just makes me feel sick. But that didn't happen with you. You touched my chest and it wasn't bad. It was just... there. Nice and calming while you were speaking to me.  

You tried to get me to breathe with you. No questions or pushing. Just breathing. I couldn't even do that.  

I don't remember how I calmed down. I just remember being with you. I remember being with you and shaking and trying to keep you from moving your hands.  

You didn't. You just stayed there. I didn't get a chance to tell you that I liked having you so close.  

You pushed me to go home early. I didn't want to, but you insisted, saying that you could handle it. That I'd taught you well enough to be able to handle it.  

You didn't let me go home alone. You went with me. Made sure I made it to my door. Promised to send me a message when you got back. And when you got home tonight.  

You just left. A few minutes ago.  

I... I never wanted you to worry about me. I never wanted you to see any of that.  

I liked having you there. I really did. It was nice.  

I wanted you to stay. It felt wrong to ask. Too far.  

I've tried so hard to hold onto some composure. Professionalism. But every day is getting harder and harder.  

It feels like it's too late to call us colleagues. To act like I'm just training you. Too late to go back now. Too late to cut ties. Too late for me undo everything.  

I'll wait by the phone tonight. You'll remember to reach out. You always do about work or trips home or whatever else because you understand it. You get that keeping promises is important. I like that.  

I'll see you tomorrow. I will. I promise. 

Tape #5:  

There's a big case. Your first big case. We're working together.  

You were so excited. You held it in during the meeting but the second we got out of the office; you were practically bouncing. You hugged me again, thanking me, as if I had anything to do with it.  

I told you that.  

That I didn't ask for you to be on the case. That you'd gotten there on your own. You said that even if I didn't ask, I was the one who taught you, so I still deserved a thank you.  

It was sweet. I'm proud of you. I told you as much.  

You asked if it would be silly to celebrate. I said no. Honestly, I don't know. I didn't celebrate, but it felt wrong to tell you about that.  

You got pizza. Pizza and then some fancy macarons that were probably too expensive.  

You skipped on your way home. Just a little. I saw it while I was making sure you made it home safe. It was like you couldn't stop yourself. Like there was just too much energy.  

I liked seeing you like that. Happy and excited. Like we weren't taking down criminals. Like the world was still offering you so much kindness, even though I knew you were smart enough to know that the world didn't work like that.  

I lingered longer than I meant to tonight.  

I usually just make sure your living room light switches on. That's it. I promise.  

But tonight, I waited. I saw you switch on the lights and leave the room. You came back in comfortable clothes and got yourself dinner. You sat and watched some kid's movie. I couldn't recognize it,but it was bright and looked lighthearted. Something with princes and magic and silly effects.  

I should've known that you wouldn't like serious movies. Not on nights like this.  

I... I imagined watching them with you. I shouldn't have. I should've gone home. But I couldn't. I just got caught up in the idea of letting you pick the movie we'd watch, holding you, laughing when you did... it seemed good. Great.  

I don't think you'd like it if I told you about that. You would be scared. Weirded out. You would never want to see me again... I can't lose you like that.  

Right now, I need to focus on the case. I need to focus on doing good work so that you can do good work. That's all I can think about.  

I hope things go well. For you. I want you to be great. To feel like you're great.  

I can make it happen. I just have to focus. I can do that. For you. I promise.  

I promise.  

Tape #6: 

I have been so good.  

So good and kind and respectful.  

Never pushed, never asked, never let myself look too long or let a touch linger. I didn't even make a comment when you told me how shitty that date was with that cop, even when I knew it would be bad. Even when I watched it go wrong. He's not your type. I know it. Can't take care of you. I know that too.  

We have a stakeout tomorrow. Me and you in a van together with some computer tech nerd while we watch an undercover agent infiltrate a group.  

And here I am, sitting on the floor of my bedroom thinking about how distracted I'm going to be.  

You are... invasive. A weed- no- a wildflower growing where you don't belong. Right in the crevices of my mind. Everything I do now is in the name of you. Making you happy or proud... making you laugh... making you mine.  

God, I was doing so well.  

It hurt, but I was controlling it. 

But tomorrow... that's going to be hours where we're closer than we've ever been before.  

What am I going to do when all I can smell is your body wash and laundry soap and toothpaste? When my hands shake because I want to grab you and keep you close to me? When all I can think of is you and how badly I need you? What do I do then?  

I'm fucked.  

Truly fucked.  

Tape #7: 

I listened to my first tape again.  

I know, I know. I said I wouldn't. I just couldn't help myself. Especially after tonight.  

I did a good job. Despite the distraction that is you, I did fine. Controlled myself.  

I offered to walk you home. You said yes. Why wouldn't you?  

You were buzzing. You were so proud and you had every right to be. You were perfect. You used everything I taught you, and you excelled. You kept saying thank you... over and over and over. I should have stopped you, but I liked it. Having you rely on me.  

Someone texted you. Some guy on some shitty app that you told me you were going to delete to focus on work. One that you apparently redownloaded after your bad date with that cop a while ago.  

You laughed at yourself when you saw that I caught you, saying that you wanted to hold onto some hope. I asked why. You said that meeting me reminded you that there were still good people out there and that you just had to look for them.  

I never had to look. I could see it the second I met you.  

You are... good. Better than good. Kind, clever, funny... you are perfect.  

I'm not. I'm not good. I don't know how I managed to convince you that I was. I'm rotten. I know it. I can hide it well. Cope with it. But you make me want to do more than cope. I want to be better. For you. To deserve you. 

You kissed me tonight. After we made it to your doorstep. You were standing, ready to go inside, but you ran back down the steps and stopped me.  

I can still feel it. The warmth and the softness. The way you smiled as I started kissing you back. I can't stop thinking about it.  

I need you. I need you here. I need you around. I need... I need to feel good. Like I'm good. I need that feeling I had when you were thanking me tonight.  

You would understand, right? Now that things are different. Things would need to change. I can't have you putting yourself in danger.  

I won't push you too fast. I think that'd just scare you, and I don't want to do that. And I... I need to prove that I can take care of you. That I can be good for you. I can do that. 

But I'll... I'll get you to understand. I will. I promise.  

Maybe one day, I'll show you these. When I've become good enough. Better. Maybe you'll like them. 

Goodbye, baby, see you soon. 

---------------------

Tag Lists:

Overall - @daisydark @geeksareunique

---------------------

Some Important Causes:

GLAAD - LGBTQIA+ Organization

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

CHIRLA - Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights

I was nothing back then. I just handed out meds and made sure they got taken. That was it. I wasn't exciting or interesting. I was just another person doing my job.  

At first, Dex refused to talk to me.  

A guard would be in the room, even though he was restrained when I would enter. I remember having to bite my tongue to keep from asking them to not do that to him. Instead, I would greet him by his first name, explain that I was there to administer his medication, and then leave after I knew he hadn't tucked them under his tongue or in his cheek.  

I could vividly remember the first time he spoke to me directly. Almost three months in. 

I had just walked in. "Hello, Benjamin. I'm sure you remember me by now-" 

"I do," he replied. His voice was quiet and deep and rough. Enough to make my blood run cold. "You can call me Dex. No one calls me Benjamin." 

"Oh," I mumbled, blinking a few times. "Yes, of course. If you're more comfortable with that." 

He nodded once.  

I cleared my throat. "Anyway, I'm here with your meds. Are you ready?" 

"Yes." that was also new. I had gotten used to the nodding in the past, but the verbal answer was so new to me.  

"Okay," I said, before handing him the small plastic cup. He had just enough slack to toss the meds back into his mouth. He handed it back. "Thank you. And here's some water." 

He never drank much. Just enough to get the meds down.  

I grinned as he handed me the water back. "Okay, thank you, Dex. I'll see you tomorrow!" 

"I'll be waiting for you." 

I had to fight how warm my face was at his statement.  

Over time, Dex was given a little more freedom. Not leave-the-premise freedom, but he could remain unrestrained when I came in. The guard could stand outside.  

Soon enough, he was able to sit in the common area for most of the day. I remember being so proud of him. I told the psychiatrist in charge of his case how exciting this was. I was told to not get my hopes up.  

I think that was when something shifted. That first day in the common area.  

"Hey, Dex," I said. "Are you alright with doing med out here?" 

He nodded. "That'd be fine." 

I grinned, placing the plastic cup on the table in front of him with the water next to it.  

"Where are you from," he asked, looking down at the cups. My pause must've been a little too long because he added on the end, "We see each other every day. You know everything about me. Can't be that surprised that I'm curious." 

I didn't know everything about him.  

I knew what I had to know. The details that explained what his medication was for and why he had been admitted. I was too low on the food chain to be given much more than that. It was an element of the job that I always side-eyed just a bit.  

"New York," I answered. "Not the city. Other side of the state, actually." 

"So, you relocated for this job?" 

"Yup, fresh out of school." 

"You living some glamorous life I don't know about, doc?" he tilted his head. "Can't imagine the pay is... great." 

I paused. "I do this job because I would rather know it was done by someone who cares, not for the money." 

His mouth twitched up. Just for a moment. His smile- or smirk, I guess- was nice. It sat in my stomach and caused my heart to flutter. I ignored it. This wasn't the place.  

"And I'm not a doctor... yet. Have to get through the undergrad first." 

He nodded before throwing back the meds and drinking some water. "Good luck, future doc." 

I grinned back as I took the plastic cups from him. "Thanks, Dex." 

I always chuckled at myself when I thought about that conversation. I must've looked like a baby to him. The man who had become a decorated FBI agent staring down the person freshly drinking age. I was nothing but a toddler.  

I think that made me try to act more mature around him. That difference. I wanted him to see me as more than a young person. People rarely respected the opinions of young people.  

Maybe it worked; maybe I never had to do it in the first place. I just knew that he never stopped talking with me.  

He always had questions for me. Every day. The man that had spent so long being silent with me suddenly wanted to know everything about me.  

How many siblings did I have? 

How did my parents feel about my work? 

What was I studying? Why? 

I wish I could say that I was able to hold onto my boundaries. That was an important part of the work. Strong boundaries. Don't reveal too much personal information, don't make promises you couldn'tkeep, keep your schedule to yourself. Basic stuff. Some would argue common sense.  

But with Dex, I found myself with no choice other than to tell him what he asked for. He would offer me things too. Small pieces of himself as if he were making a calculated trade. But they were all from later in his life. Adulthood. Nothing from before the age of 18.  

It wasn't one sided. Just not exactly equal.  

I never assumed his questions were more than curiousness. It didn't feel right to assume anything else. He didn't interact with many people during his day to day, so it wasn't surprising that he wanted some kind of information about the only person he saw.  

Until I got sick.  

It was years after I had started working with Dex. I didn't take many sick days. I could work through almost anything. But one day I had gotten knocked on my ass for the day.  

I had been given a heads-up before going back to work that there had been an incident. Something about questions getting asked and things getting thrown.  

He looked panicked when he saw me again.  

"Where were you," he asked, standing up. The guards all stepped forward, but I held up my hand. "Where did you go?" 

"I... I got sick, Dex," I explained, trying to remain as calm as I could. "I usually work through it but whatever I had was really bad. I'm sorry." 

He looked me up and down. "Why are you back today?" 

"Because I don't get that much sick time." I tried to chuckle but got caught in a coughing fit. Dex moved closer to me. I held up a hand. "I'm okay. Just recovering." 

He glared at me.  

"I'm sorry for being gone," I added. "I had no way to let you know about it. But that doesn't make it okay for you to hurt someone else." 

"I didn't." 

"Dex-" 

"If I wanted to hurt that guard, then I would've," he interrupted me. "I knew you wouldn't approve. He made a comment about you and I got angry." 

I slowly nodded. "You still can't threaten people because I'm not here, okay? Please." 

There was a pause. A long one before he spoke up again, "Fine." 

"Thank you," I mumbled.  

He accepted the cup of medication from me, throwing the pills and water back without taking his eyes away from mine. I took them back, thanking him quietly.  

There was a shift after that day.  

We were closer than I had been with other people I cared for. He asked for me more. He shared more stories and asked me for more of my own. We were no longer patient and provider, but friends.  

I was always fascinated with how Dex looked at me. Like I was some shining light. Some sunshine peeking through the bars. He grinned at me most days. Something perfectly small and private. It became a highlight of my day.  

And then, he was gone.  

I came into work and he had been sent away. Acquitted.  

I tried to force a smile. Acquitted due to the circumstances of his involvement made sense. And moving forward was a good thing. Wasn't it? 

It felt like it should've been. But every day I would walk into that building and miss him. His smile and stories and how he looked at me.  

And then, he got arrested. And sentenced to life.  

I remember watching the news talk about it. How reporters had boiled him down to some kind of psycho who just wanted to be violent all the time. But that wasn't who he was. I knew that. I knew him better than anyone did because I cared.  

I didn't get a chance to hear about him escaping from prison. I just had to realize it in real time when I came home from work, and he was standing in my living room.  

"Holy shit," I whispered. He was already staring at me, as if he had been waiting by the door. Like a puppy wandering home. "Dex..." 

"Hi," he said, smiling at me. "Nice to see you again, Doc." 

"Still not a doctor." 

"That's a shame." 

I blinked a few times before going to reach into my pocket.  

Dex was there in a second, pushing me back until I hit the wall. I gasped lightly. He was never aggressive with me. Ever. And some part of my mind couldn't decide how I felt about it. He checked every single pocket, tossing away random garbage and things before pocketing my phone for himself. 

"I was going for my keys," I mumbled. I lifted my hand where the key ring was now sitting. "That's all." 

He took them from me, tucking them in the same pocket as my phone. "Good." 

I took a breath as he stepped back. "What are you doing here, Dex?" 

He looked me up and down a few times, as if the mere sight of me would tell him what excuse would work best on me. "Needed somewhere safe to go. No one's gonna look at the apartment of the random med tech." 

"Oh," I mumbled, looking down for a moment. "That's it?" 

He took a breath. "You should change." 

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. 

"You told me before that you hate having your uniform on for longer than you had to. Makes you itchy." 

"That's... That's right," I replied. "I... I umm... I need to shower." 

He turned to walk through my apartment. "Let's go." 

"What?" 

He paused long enough to look at me and motion vaguely in the direction of my bathroom. "You said you needed to shower. I said, 'let's go'." 

Dex sat in the bathroom the entire time I showered. He was kind enough to turn his back as I got in. Handed me my towel to dry off behind the curtain and then my clothes when I was done with the towel. He stood there as I washed my face and cleaned up my dirty laundry.  

"Go sit. I'll make dinner." 

He watched me from the kitchen too. I just sat on the couch in silence, fiddling with my hands as he moved. Each action was precise and calculated. As if he knew the layout of my place before having been in it. I found myself wondering how long he had been watching my place before making an entrance.  

I had heard the stories about Julie. About him stalking her. About her dying. It was all in his file. What if I was simply on a variation of that same path? I shook my head, trying to avoid the thought.  

Dinner was quiet. Dex didn't eat. He had made servings for both of us but left his on the counter so he could instead focus on watching me. I don't know what he was looking for. An attempt at escaping? If I started choking? I don't know. I just know that his constant staring should have scared me but instead felt... normal, casual.  

After I finished eating, Dex took my plate without a word. I watched as he washed, dried, and stacked the dish in the cupboard. I tilted my head when I caught a glimpse inside. He had reorganized my dishes. It looked nice, but it was reorganized.  

"You should sleep," he said as he turned back around. "You just worked a long shift. Longer than usual because you were home late." 

"Okay..." I mumbled, going to move down the hall.  

"Out here," he instructed. "I have stuff to do. Can't do them and keep an eye on you if you're in another room." 

I didn't question him, instead just going to lie down on the couch. I pulled the blanket from the back of the couch over me, silently thanking myself for getting a nice blanket that I could actually use.  

I heard Dex moving as I closed my eyes. Then, I heard the dining chair move as he sat down and the sound of a fork touching a plate.  

It all felt strangely domestic. As if this was just how things were meant to be. Maybe they were. 

It was the next morning that I learned how much I didn't like not being able to see Dex.  

So, when I had woken up on the couch after Dex pushed me to sleep and didn't see him in the main part of my apartment, I scrambled. My heart sped up, my breathing sped up a bit as I moved quickly.  

I checked the kitchen, hoping he was squatting by a cupboard and looking for something. I checked the fire escape. I checked the bathroom. Everything was empty.  

I found him in my room.  

"Dex?" 

The door slammed shut as he turned to look at me.  

"I didn't mean to scare you," I apologized quickly. Which I could imagine getting a weird look for. He had broken into my home and I was apologizing to him.  

"You didn't." 

"Okay..." I mumbled. "You were just... I woke up and you were gone. Guess I just... I don't know." 

"I've never been in your space before," he explained. "I wanted to understand you. Better than you would let me." 

I nodded. It made sense.  

"Go sit down. I'll make you something to eat." 

Another nod as I listened to him.  

I could watch him in the kitchen as I sat on the couch. He didn't ask me any questions. He didn't seem to be struggling either, as if he memorized the layout as soon as he had walked into the space.  

"You don't have pictures of your family," Dex noted.  

"I don't." 

"Why?" 

I froze. 

"You told me that you had a sister and both your parents were alive," he continued. "I remember it. Why not have any pictures of them?" 

I took a breath, looking down at my hands. "Doesn't matter." 

"Does to me." 

I looked at him again. "We don't talk anymore. Any of us." 

"Why?" 

"They... My parents loved my sister. More than they ever loved me," I explained. "I was always just left on my own or trying to prove that I deserved... some part of their attention. Guess that's why relocating didn't hurt so bad." 

Dex was watching me as I spoke. "That sounds really hard." 

"It wasn't great." I forced out a chuckle. "But I lived. Survived. Coped as I knew how to." 

"How did you cope?" 

"Protected myself," I shrugged. "Only let the people in that I thought deserved it. Those who cared about me. Who would let me care about them." 

"Sounds lonely." 

"Just requires some patience." I grinned at him.  

"You only ever told me about the good things." 

"I'm sure you can figure out why I didn't want to bother you with the bad things." 

He didn't respond. He just stared at me.  

"What?" 

"Nothing." he shook his head.  

I felt a strange itching anxiety crawl up my shoulders. I didn't like no response. I didn't like the staring. I couldn't read his mind like Dex could apparently read mine. It just didn't work like that.  

I tried to shake off the feeling as best I could. It barely worked.  

"What am I supposed to do about work," I asked.  

He furrowed his eyebrows. "You aren't going." 

"So, I'm quitting." 

"Yes." 

"We won't really have this place very long if I can't pay the rent." 

"Work from home." 

"Not how my job works." 

"Get a new one." 

"Jesus Christ." 

He shrugged. Like this was the only way things could happen. The only way for events to unfold. I ran my hands over my face in response.  

But never once did it occur to me to try to run for the door and get out of there.  

Dex stayed in my home for several days. Weeks, I think, but time begins to lose all meaning when you're stuck in the same room for so long. It felt wrong but it did feel like having an extreme version of a clingy animal.  

Sometimes he would just sit and keep guard of the place. Checking locks. Checking his weapons. Checking that I was alive. He checked my forehead for a fever at some point. I wasn't sure why, and something told me that he had no interest in explaining himself.  

Other times were dedicated to research. Him sitting at my laptop and busying himself with gathering information. He wouldn't tell me what exactly he was looking into because he thought it would be safer for me. I had a few theories. AVTF, Fisk, Daredevil, and the like. The other pieces of the puzzle of his life. I didn't know if he was planning something or merely keeping updated to make himself feel better. I guess it didn't matter at the time.  

Through it all, he kept talking. Kept telling stories and asking for them. These stories were different. There were no guards or higher-ups to keep us from going too far past personal boundaries. Instead, we both stumbled into this unfiltered honesty with each other.  

And I liked it. I liked feeling that way. I liked feeling that way with Dex specifically.  

It didn't take much for our small image of unusual domesticity to be challenged.  

I was at the dining room table while Dex took a break from researching to make lunch. He still insisted on cooking.  

As he was finishing up with the knife, there was a loud knock on the door. I tensed immediately. I had no one who would visit me, and this was not the kind of knock you got from a delivery person.  

Dex put up a hand, silently telling me to breathe slowly and to calm down. A silent sign that he could handle whatever situation was about to unfold.  

And then, the door burst in. A few cops burst through the door, guns ready and aiming.  

We never did learn how they found us. If it was my work being worried or a neighbor listening through the walls. Maybe it was Dex's research getting flagged in some system, even though I knew that he was more careful than that. I just knew.  

I could vaguely remember Dex telling me to get down. I mostly remember the feeling of my knees hitting the floor as I listened to him.  

Dex was a capable guy. Maybe capable in some scary ways, but capable. I knew that in most situations, he wouldn't need me to help. I would just be another body in the way.  

But the chaos was settling and there was a man on top of Dex, hitting him over and over to the point that I felt sick to my stomach. I was looking from my place under the table. I saw one of the downed cop's guns on the ground.  

My body moved before I had fully given it permission.  

There wasn't enough time for me to rethink pulling the trigger. Over and over and over until I couldn't.  

The cop dropped off of Dex with a thunk that made my chest hurt. Dex was panting, clearly assessing the situation. 

My logical brain had given up on that fight a long time ago.  

"Hey, hey," Dex said as he touched my face. I don't remember him standing up and making his way over to me, but there he was. Holding my face so I'd look at him and not the bodies. "Look at me." 

"I killed him," I mumbled. "I shot him. A lot. Oh my god." 

"Hey, hey, that's not important right now. We need to go-" 

"Don't go!" I panicked at the sheer mention of the word. It felt like it was the only one that my brain had heard. "Please don't go! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! Please don't leave me!" 

His face shifted. Visibly for the first time in a while.  

"I'm sorry," my voice dropped into a pathetic whisper. "Please just stay. I didn't mean to. I just got scared. Please don't leave-" 

"Hey, hey, hey, I said we need to go. Both of us," he explained. "There are going to be more cops. We need to get out of here before they come. We. Both of us. Together." 

"You're not leaving?" 

"No." 

"I shot a man. I fucked up. I fucked everything up-" 

"You saved my life." 

I paused. And it felt like my brain finally lulled to a stop for a moment. He wasn't leaving. He was taking me with him. Even though I had made a mistake. Even though I was a mess and little more than some liability to him. He still wanted me there. He wanted to protect me.  

"I'm going to go grab my stuff and a bag for you, okay? Don't move." 

I nodded, not hiding how much my hands felt drawn to try to reach out and pull him back over to me.  

It only took Dex a few minutes to have bags ready for both of us. I insisted on carrying my own. He needed to be able to move without worrying about it falling off his shoulders.  

The next few days were hard. Cold and hungry and hard. But I had Dex. He was there through the whole thing. That was enough.  

I was the one who found an abandoned apartment building. One that enough people had fled after Fisk that no one cared about it anymore, but enough people had stayed to keep the utilities from being shut off. No one was looking there and hey, no need to worry about rent. It was a miracle.  

I picked out a cozy little place for us to settle in. A studio. The only privacy we'd get is when we needed to piss or shit, which seemed to be Dex's dream. Oh, and it apparently had good vantage points, which my old place lacked.  

I wasn't surprised that he didn't change any of his habits. Maybe just disappointed. I wanted us to be closer. To feel like more than a bodyguard and a ward. But here we were.  

I was sitting on the bed, alone. Dex was at the dining room table, head on a swivel. A guard dog like always.  

"We've been here for a few days now," I said, trying to be casual.  

"I'm aware," he replied.  

"Do you like it?" 

"It has a roof, walls, and windows that are intact. What's not to love?" 

And me, I wanted to say. A roof, walls, intact windows, and me.  

I didn't. I instead chose to move on.  

"My old place was much smaller than this one," I explained. As if he hadn't seen it. "I remember being so firm about wanting my sleep and work areas to be separate. I took a course on behavioral change, and that kind of division can actually be really helpful in preventing or breaking bad lifestyle habits." 

The corner of Dex's mouth turned up. "I had a one-bedroom place before all of this. It was clean, organized. I made sure it was perfect." 

"Makes sense. You've always had a habit of projecting your need for consistency and patterns to an extreme." 

"An extreme, huh?" 

I nodded. "Like you want your life to be a certain way out of need or desire or something that someone told you was essential. It's an old thing that was almost burned onto your chest. Order is safe. But that was... before." 

"Before?" 

"Before Fisk. Before the Daredevil costume. Before... what happened to her." 

He didn't respond. He eyed me up and down, as if assessing whether or not to trust me to even hold a concept of his past in my mind. Because in spite of everything that had already happened, I had started as nothing more than another person trying to "fix" him. Not help him.  

But that was different now. I wasn't under someone else's thumb anymore. It was all just me.  

That's why being open with him felt so important.  

"You saw what was in my closet," I said after a moment. "Didn't you?" 

"Doesn't matter," he replied bluntly.  

"It does to me," I looked down at my lap.  

It mattered because it could make him see the truth. See that I knew everything. The good and the bad and the downright terrifying. That I saw it. Understood it. And stayed anyway.  

"You should consider my feelings more if we're going to be here together." 

He scoffed, shaking his head. I felt a small grin pull at my lips at the idea of making him laugh. 

"What did you think?" I shifted, moving a little closer to the edge of the bed. "Of my work. What did you think of my work?" 

He looked at the table in front of him. "You're observant. Clever. Looked like it was nothing more to you than putting together a jigsaw puzzle with the picture on the box." 

Pride tickled in my chest. Pride I hadn't allowed myself to hold before. "Thank you." 

He looked back at me. He seemed shocked by my response. Like he was expecting me to hide away from what he had found. But he was the only person that I ever wanted to have see what I had made. The collection I had kept of pictures and articles and notes. It was art. Comforting, selfish art, but art, nevertheless. It was him. A perfect version of him and who he was and who he is now. It was everything. 

"The early stuff was the hardest. I couldn't exactly casually ask for your file after you left, so I was mostly combing through news articles about parents and baseball coaches and therapists." 

There was a small pause. "Why'd you do it?" 

I sighed. "I missed you. Wanted to remember everything about you. Couldn't stand the thought of not remembering your face." 

He nodded slowly. Agreeing, I think. 

"I wrote letters," I explained. "While you were in prison. I never had the heart to send them. I didn't think you'd read them. Why would you? I wasn't important. So, I just kept them in my notebooks." 

"You are." his voice was sharp. My confusion must have been clear. "Important. You are." 

I felt my face warmed up and looked down for a moment. 

"The guards probably would've taken them anyway," he said. "They were assholes. All of them." 

"Maybe I was too soft on you. Made them seem meaner just by comparison." 

A smirk grew on his face. "Maybe." 

There was a silence between. Comfortable, relaxed. Even with a confession that should have held weight. It was all just normal.  

It made me happy. 

"I remember being really angry when you left," I continued, finally pulling myself out of my spot on the small bed. "We had talked so much. You had asked for my schedule. You... We knew each other so well. And then, you were just gone, and you didn't come back for me. To see me." 

Dex didn't respond. He just looked at me from across the small room.  

"I guess I wanted you to have looked for me." I shrugged as I walked over him. "I wanted to be that important to you. But I understand now. After you showed up at my place. You didn't choose to leave. You would've stayed for me, if that lady never showed up." 

If I had phrased it that way with any other person, they would've acted like I was crazy. But not him. Not Dex. He simply tilted his head up to keep looking me in the eye.  

"I'm right, aren't I?" I tilted my head.  

"(Y/n)..." 

"It's why you came to me," I continued. "After getting out of prison. It wasn't about being safe. You wanted to see me. There were a hundred safer places. And then those men showed up and you stayed! Oh, you stayed..." 

My hands touched his cheeks.  

"You kept me with you." I felt tears in my eyes as my fingertips traced the scar on his cheekbone. "You love me. You have to." 

His hands found mine.  

"Tell me you love me. Please. I-I need you to say it. Please-" 

He closed his eyes for a moment.  

For a split second, I was scared he was going to deny it. Shove me away and say that all of this was because he was stuck with me. Because I had done something stupid and shot that guy. Because I was pathetic and begged him not to leave me.  

"I came to you that night because I couldn't think of anywhere else to go," Dex's voice was soft. "You were the only person I had any desire to see. I thought of how you would smile and tell me about your family. Always the good stuff. I had no plan for what I was going to do when I saw you. I just knew that I wanted to see you." 

I nodded.  

"I never wanted to drag you into any of this. I should've left you alone." 

"I would've gone looking for you." 

His shoulders dropped. Not out of disappointment of some kind but instead out of comfort, relief. Some part of him thankful that I wouldn't have left things alone.  

I stepped closer to him. His legs moved a bit more so I could stand between them. His head tilted back a bit more to keep looking at me as his hands dropped from mine.  

"You shouldn't be so sweet to me," he muttered. I hummed, ignoring him as one hand went to his shoulder and the other went to run through the hair on the back of his head. "I'm not a good person." 

"I knew that already," I replied. "When I met you. I knew and chose you anyway. Isn't that what love is? Taking the bad with the good." 

"I don't... I don't know." 

I could almost laugh. But I didn't. I wouldn't.  

"I have trouble seeing any bad in you," he admitted, face contorting into something close to embarrassment or shame. "To me, there's nothing to 'take' with the good." 

He was wrong.  

By every rule and outline of normal behavior I had learned growing up; I was nowhere near all good. There was bad there. A lot of bad. Bad clinging to desperation and need and loneliness, twisting them into cruel barbed wire that seemed to catch on everyone I had ever tried to love. 

"I shot a man." 

"You saved my life." 

"I stalked you for a year. Found out everything about you." 

"Likewise." 

I took a breath. "I fell in love with a patient." 

He took a similar breath, but it was calmer, less scared than mine. "I'm not going to mark you saying you love me as a bad thing about you." 

Dex slowly pushed himself out of his seat. I could only get myself to take one step back to give him steady ground to stand on. His eyes danced around my face.  

"What did you write in those letters," he asked. I pouted a bit. I didn't want to talk anymore. "Tell me." 

His hands slowly touched my sides.  

"Please." 

"I would tell you about my day," I said softly. "What had happened at work. The bullshit you'd missed. I'd tell you about how much I missed you." 

Dex leaned forward, lips brushing the skin of my check. Not kissing, just there. They slowly skated over the skin, drawing a line along from my cheekbone to my jaw.  

I shivered, hands stuck by my sides.  

"More," he muttered against the skin.  

He pushed on my sides.  

I let him guide me backwards, knowing he wouldn't let me fall or hit anything. I touched his arms, clinging to him. His lips moved from brushing skin to barely kissing it.  

"I would talk about you so much," I continued. "I missed your smile and eyes and... everything..." 

I trailed off, jumping a little as my legs brushed against the small bed again. Dez's voice cut through the fuzz in my mind with perfect precision, "Tell me more." 

I took a breath. "I admitted everything. How I had been following articles about you. How I found out about you in the boy's home. How I forgave you for everything, even if it wasn't my place. I just... Iwanted you to know that you... you became everything to me." 

He moved back enough to look me in the eye. "What else?" 

"That I loved you," I replied. "Over and over and over again. Every letter. Every single one." 

His forehead rested on mine.  

"Kiss me," I begged quietly. "I'll tell you every word, just please-" 

His lips found mine and every word died on my tongue. I grinned into the kiss, grinning and humming as I wrapped my fingers in the front of his shirt. 

I awkwardly reached behind me before clamoring on the bed. I just couldn't bear the idea of separating my lips from his. Breathing took a backseat. My comfort took a backseat.  

That's why I was fine with how I ended up lying back on the mattress with my legs bent at a weird angle. Because even then, I still had Dex there. His lips were still there. His hands were still there. I could feel the weight of him against me. It was all still good. 

I almost panicked when he pulled back. I scrambled to grab his shoulders and pull him back down, but he stopped me. His hands moved to the sides of my face as he shushed me.  

"I don't need you breaking your legs," he muttered. His hand moved to the crook of my knee. He guided my leg until it had straightened out. His other hand did the same to my other leg. "That's better." 

He leaned back down and kissed me again. It was soft. A matter of seconds as he moved to wrap his arms around me.  

I tried to smile at him, but I felt something gnawing at me. Scratching at the inside of my ribs like a dog refusing to be ignored for any longer.  

He saw it. He must have.  

"What is it?" 

"You never said it back," I mumbled to him. "I told you that I loved you and you never said it back." 

"Oh," he said. There was a pause before a smile broke on his face. "(Y/n)..." 

"Dex." 

"I love you." 

I felt butterflies in my stomach and warmth in my chest. It was everything that I had wanted the moment to be. Maybe I had hoped for a better location, but the moment itself was perfect. Loving and gentle and exactly what I needed.  

"I promise to keep you safe," he continued. "No matter what it takes. If it means hurting someone or killing someone. I don't care. You will be protected. I will never let someone hurt you." 

I cupped Dex's face.  

His eyes fluttered shut as he seemed to gulp. He leaned into my palm and tried to push himself closer to me.  

"God, Dex, I love you," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. 

"I love you too," he replied. "You need to sleep." 

I frowned as he leaned back. An amused grin formed on his lips.  

"I told you that I'd protect you," he explained. "Rest now. I'll be here when you wake up." 

"When are you going to rest?" 

He took a breath. "You don't need to worry about that-" 

"Too late for that." I shrugged at him. "I've spent the last year worrying about you, Dex. Not gonna stop now." 

He scoffed at me. "Go to sleep. We can talk about this later." 

"Can't just avoid everything by telling me to sleep." 

"It's worked so far" 

I pulled my leg up and lightly kicked his thigh before relenting and letting my eyes close.  

"Goodnight." 

"Yeah, yeah, goodnight." 

I nodded off soon after, a soft grin forming as I did because I could feel Dex's fingers brushing the side of my face.  

It was freeing. Getting to love someone as I wanted to love them. To have them love me in the same way. I had never felt so close to someone.  

So, yes, I could waste my time on the what ifs of our relationship or the inconvenient details on how we met and became what we are.  

But enjoying it without those pesky thoughts was much more fun. 

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Author's Note: This got freakier than I thought it was going to when I started it... and I'm not gonna lie, there's more freaky stuff in my drafts.

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