#grey zone

T.K. exhales. They haven’t slept together. There’ve been nights they probably could have, nights when T.K.’s been so close to just crowding Carlos up against a wall and going for it. But then he remembers therapy, remembers he’s not supposed to be just jumping into sexual encounters, let alone a new relationship.

  But is this jumping?

  It’s been a few months now, and it seems... god, it seems good. Carlos is gorgeous. He seems to think T.K. is attractive, too. But that, that’s kind of the least of it. Because T.K. knows from experience that part’s not hard. He, he’s pretty damn aware of his physical appeal. It’s all the other shit that’s a liability.

  But with Carlos... god damn. Like, Carlos knows him. And he hasn’t turned tail. Or, or just limited their encounters to sex. He knows T.K. relapsed, knows he had a bad breakup, knows his job and his dad... knows he can get moody. Sad, sometimes, indifferent. Careless, even... And he still seems to want more of him.

  So they eat together. Work out together. Take drives together. Watch movies together.

  And if they occasionally grind up on each other on the dance floor?

  Well. He’s a firefighter, not a saint.

  He feels like he’s getting closer to healthy. Not there yet, but at least he’s at a place where it feels like it could be possible. Someday.

  Like Carlos could be possible someday.

  So he smiles at Carlos, here in the little restaurant. Jokes about his super-tight t-shirt. Swivels around in his seat to see how much this place is charging to add avocado and -

  Shit.

  That’s when he sees him. Them. Fuck. And from the looks he gets in return, they see him, too.

  He... he knew this would happen eventually, if he and Carlos hung out enough together, especially in certain spaces. He wasn’t expecting it here, though, with these two, of all people. And not now.

  First instinct is to avoid. “I’m gonna use the restroom.”

  Carlos nods, mostly focused on his salad. “Sure.”

  T.K. crosses the restaurant quickly, trying to dodge eye contact, trying to pretend like the two other members of the filthiest threesome of his life aren’t currently in the same room as him and Carlos.

  They’d looked like they were almost done, with their food. He hopes that if he just takes some time, they’ll be gone. This place wasn’t designed for lingering.

  He washes his hands, looks in the mirror, breathes deeply, and heads out. Exhales when he sees that their table is empty... but goes cold when he sees the taller guy exchanging words with Carlos. Winking at him.

  Fucking hell.

  He delays as best he can, watches them exit the restaurant. Watches the way Carlos’s brow furrows, the way he looks down at the table without really seeing.

  He makes his way over, sits down. “Hey,” he says softly.

  Carlos startles. “Oh. Hey,” he says in return. But he doesn’t meet T.K.’s eyes.

  They finish their salads and drinks in near silence, a departure from their banter earlier.

  They get into Carlos’s car. Carlos looks deep in thought as he starts the ignition, then turns to T.K.

  “You still want dropped at the station? Or do you have other plans?”

  T.K. frowns. Other plans? “I go on shift in like 3 hours. I figured I’d just get a shower at the station and sort of bum around there for a while after that.”

  Carlos nods tightly. “Just thought I’d ask. That’s plenty of time to fit in some other stuff.”

  Other stuff.

  “What did they say to you?” T.K. asks, voice low.

  “Mierda,” Carlos mutters, mostly to himself. “I, I’m not repeating it.” His jaw tenses, and then his face goes carefully blank. “And it doesn’t matter anyway.”

  T.K. reaches out, touches Carlos’s arm, the one that’s about to put the car into reverse.

  “Hey.”

  Carlos’s shoulders slump, and he’s quiet a long while. His voice sounds raspy when he finally speaks. “How... how many? Since you’ve been in Austin?”

  T.K. purses his lips, doesn’t answer.

  “No, never mind,” Carlos exhales heavily. “You don’t, don’t have to answer that. It doesn’t matter. I’ll take you to the station.”

  “A lot.” T.K. says, louder than he means to. “It... it’s been a lot. Of guys.”

  Carlos just nods. “Um. After we...?”

  “Yeah. And before, too.” T.K. looks down. “It...” he starts. “I was trying to feel something.”

  Carlos’s mouth twists a little, at that. “It work?”

  No point in lying. “Sometimes.”

  “It work with me?”

  Shit. “Carlos...” T.K. trails off. Then decides, what the hell? He’s already this far in, might as well keep going. “At first, you were just another body to me.” He can see Carlos flinch, a bit.  “A, a really hot one, but... but that’s what it was. That’s all I was looking for. But you, you were nice to me. Like, nice in a way other people weren’t. Um, historically haven’t been. You... it seemed like you cared. About me. Like, the real me. Even with all my shit. And I liked talking to you. Liked seeing you out on calls. Liked it even more when we’d go out, do stuff.”

  Carlos is looking at him with big, sad eyes. “I liked it too,” he says finally, voice quiet. “It’s just...”

  “What?”

  There’s pain on Carlos’s face. “It’s like the damn fight. It makes me,” his jaw tightens, “makes me worry. For you.” He bites his lip, seems to consider something. “Those... guys. At the restaurant. They told me to have fun. Said you were down for anything.” Carlos shakes his head. “Like, what does that even mean?”

  What does it mean...

  Well. What it had meant, with those guys, was that T.K. had been in the vicinity. Had been looking for a hookup. Used the app and made contact with the tall guy. Met up at a fuckin’ hardware store and followed the guy’s truck to his place west of the city.

  It had meant that the guy had bent him over the hood of his pickup, pulled down his jeans, and fucked him hard, right in his garage... then told him that his boyfriend wanted a go, too. And T.K. - well. It’s not that he hadn’t wanted it. Just hadn’t expected it. Bad, bad etiquette, on their part, really. Like, you should mention that shit up front. That there’s another guy. Not, not everyone would be down for that.

  But T.K. was. Down for it. Down for anything, right? Honestly, at the time it just seemed novel. Kind of crazy. Different enough, intense enough to stir up... something.

  It was certainly stirring shit up now.

  “Probably means what you think it means,” he finally responds, wanting to see what Carlos will do with that.

  Carlos looks torn. “You use an app?” T.K. nods. “What... what did you say you were looking for? Like, in the profile?”

  Rough, he’d said. He, he’d said that he liked it rough. In his experience, the hookups with an edge of... of pain? Like, the really physical ones, the intense ones, those were the ones that seemed to do the trick. Pierced the grey the best, blotted it out the longest.

  Problem was, it didn’t last. He knows now, from his therapy, from AA, from all the goddamn work he’s putting in, that it had been just another high.

  “I stopped,” he blurts out, and Carlos seems startled. “I stopped,” he repeats, “almost a month ago.” He swallows. “Finally told my therapist, my sponsor what I was doing. And now I’m telling you. Always planned to tell you, eventually. Just didn’t think it would be today.”

  Carlos is frowning.

  “I deleted the app.”

  “Why?”

  T.K. sighs. “My dad. His diagnosis. I can’t be doing shit like that, the way I was. He, he needs me. And I...” Fuck, he just, just feels so low right now, trying to explain this. Had Carlos asked him about this two months ago, he’d have probably laughed. Smirked. Poked fun at Carlos for not being on the apps, too. But he’s in a different place now. Stakes are higher. With Dad. With, with Carlos.

  “I’m trying,” he says, hearing the desperation.