Welcome to Gaia! ::

His entire body felt as though it were on edge, nerves fraying, chest so tight it was almost difficult to breathe properly. Tolliver wondered if this was what it was like to free fall over a cliff without a parachute, if this was what it was like to look before you leapt, into a state of the unknown.

The ground beneath his feet disappeared. Time came to a screeching, shuddering halt, and Tolliver thought he must be going crazy, that he must be hearing things, because Logan Hitchcock could not possibly have just sad what he thought he said, Logan Hitchcock could not possibly feel that way about someone like Tolliver.

Someone like Logan Hitchcock could not possibly love Tolliver St. James, because that was too good, too incredible, too beautiful and wonderful to ever be true, and yet he’d said it. He’d said it, and it was there between them, hovering before it found its way to Tolliver’s chest, warming him from the inside out like a hot flame where his heart had been.

“You - “ A choking, incredulous sob escaped Tolliver, and he was crying again, only it wasn’t from sadness, but from disbelief and a desire to believe what Hitch was telling him, a desire so strong and so desperate that it felt physically painful - and Tolliver had never wanted to believe something more in his entire life.

“But - “ Tolliver gasped, and now he was almost hiccuping, chest heaving, and he’d started to shake again, fingers trembling. Tears stained his reddened cheeks wet. “You can’t - I’m not - why would you p-pick someone like m-me, that’s not - it’s not, s-someone like you couldn’t p-ppossibly l-l-love someone like me - “

But his eyes were desperate, unable to move away from Logan’s, because Tolliver knew already that he was completely, utterly, madly in love with Logan Hitchcock - and the thought of his feelings being returned seemed almost ludicrously out of his reach, beyond the grasp of his fingertips.

Logan’s nerves ebbed away the second he saw tears in his lover’s eyes; even if the darkest depths of his mind wanted him to think the worst, wanted to remind him that Tolliver could be crying because Hitch had just gone and ruined everything by confessing something with so much weight so soon, and he really did deserve to be punished for everything he’d risked on this relationship he was never supposed to have had. But he couldn’t. He knew Tolliver, and he knew this wasn’t rejection.

And he was right.

His hand reached up and he threaded his fingers into Tolliver’s hair, tilting his head up to kiss his temple, then beneath his eye, hot with the blotches of red and all the tears he’d shed. Then he eased back again, doing as Tolliver had done so many times for him and cupped his cheeks warmly in the palms of his hands.

“But I do love you.” He tried to sound as sure of it as he felt, because in spite of all the bullshit and all of his own flaws, yes - yes he meant it, yes he was sure, yes this was real. “‘Cause you’re beautiful, ‘Cause you inspire me, ‘Cause you make me laugh, ‘Cause you - “ Logan laughed, flicking Tolliver’s lip gently with one of his fingers. “You really did - you do - save me y’know. Not just from some a*****e in a grocery store, like… you don’t even know.” And that was okay. The longer he went without knowing all of Hitch’s demons, the better. Maybe he’d never have to know at all. “‘Cause I was miserable an’ alone, an’ now I’m not. - ‘Cause sometimes you make me feel… “ Like he was worth it? Like he was maybe a little beautiful too? “- like I matter. An’ ******** if I’d want anyone else after what I’ve had with you.”

The fingers in his hair caused a hitch of breath from an already dry throat; the soft kiss to his temple, a quiet shudder; the ensuing kiss to his face, beneath his eye, more tears to fall, because Tolliver was unable to control himself any longer. Every small gesture was tender, so tender and adoring that it felt as though his heart was about to burst, Tolliver’s eyes fluttering, and now there were hands on either side of his face, warm and so familiar.

Everything had stopped; there was nothing and no one else in the world except the two of them, in this moment. Tolliver kept hiccuping sobs and short gasps, one hand rising to cover his mouth and try to muffle the sounds.

It couldn’t possibly be true. It had to be a mistake, it had to be just - they hadn’t been drinking, there was no alcohol to blame it on, nothing except Hitch’s own heart and his own mind, and he was looking at Tolliver with that same expression on his face, except now it was different, now it felt so incredibly different -

He was trembling, shaking. His heart throbbed more than his leg, a constant beat, a constant reminder, and Logan was telling him these things, these reasons, and Tolliver couldn’t breathe -

A sob was choked out, raw and desperate, and then Tolliver had surged forward, trying to find Logan’s mouth with his own, and it took a second - his lips skimmed haphazardly across his lover’s jaw - and then he was kissing him, hard, fast, and with every single ounce of passion and adoration and love that Tolliver could possibly express, fingers shaking against the side of Logan’s face before his arms slid securely around his neck.

He opened his mouth to say it back, because he desperately wanted to, knew that it was true for himself, but the words wouldn’t come, stuck in his throat, so he kissed him again, pressed himself closer and closer until there was no space at all between them. He was pushing hard enough to press Hitch back, Tolliver sliding a leg over his lover’s, trying to get closer still.

When he finally broke away, Tolliver was gasping for breath, flushed and teary and an absolute mess, but he still didn’t pull entirely away, arms still wrapped tight around him.

“All - all of that is - is true for me too,” he blurted out, because he couldn’t say it, but he needed for Logan to understand. “All of it. You - you make me feel incredible, you’re absolutely stunning, y-you took me to - to a place where I feel at home, n-not just physically but m-mentally, I’ve n-never met anyone like y-you before, and I - I never - I want to stay with - with you f-for as long as I can, f-for as long as you’ll have me, Logan - I - I’m - “

His mouth opened, and he tried to say it back, because he knew he loved Logan, knew it with every single part of him, and frustratingly, horrifyingly, the words simply would not come, no matter how much he tried to say them.

A noise of frustration and despair escaped him, tears sliding down his face.

“Logan,” Tolliver breathed out, pain in his eyes, because all he’d wanted to do was give his lover a fraction of what he’d been given, and he couldn’t even do that, not because he wasn’t in love with Logan, but because his stupid head and heart simply would not cooperate, and he was desperate for Logan to understand that, to believe him. “Logan.”

He buried his face in his lover’s shoulder, trembling.

“I will n-ever leave you,” he managed to get out, because if he couldn’t say the words, he was going to say whatever he could in their place, even if nothing could make up for it. “I - I want to s-stay with you, b-be with you, I need you in my l-life, you are - you are everything f-for me, and I - I just - k-keep l-l-loving me, p-please, L-Logan, I’m b-begging you, don’t stop, p-please w-wait for m-me, p-please s-stay with me - ”

Please give me time so that one day I can tell you how much I love you.

Hitch had told himself before he even started that he hadn’t expected to hear it back. And for all intents and purposes, really, Tolliver had said as much to him in a much more elaborate way, piecing together the fragments of what love was through his ever-sweet stuttering and those sweet, heartbreaking sobs. Like a poet’s confession, all prose and substance. More than he could have asked for, more than he should have ever expected.

He’d be lying if he said part of him hadn’t been hoping, though. No matter how irrational and too fast it was, he’d still irrationally hoped. And it still hurt when he didn’t hear it. He didn’t want to, and he knew it was ******** selfish and childish, but the aching throb fell in his chest and occupied a small corner of it, festering and seething there where he could hide it and hope that no one saw. But the demons did. They saw it and they quietly rifled their claws through it, caressing and mangling it into something worse than it was. He pities you. That’s why he’s saying so much now. He knows he doesn’t love you and that’s why he’s trying to spare your feelings. You played your cards too soon Logan. Bet’s off.

With Tolliver’s face safely buried into his shoulder, Hitch’s eyes darkened. His smile dropped and twisted downwards, lips parting in a silent sigh, his brow furrowing. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, just for a second. Just enough to get himself together.

“Please wait for me.”

Because he doesn’t love you. He never will.

But if there was one thing Hitch knew how to do, it was bite back the bad and exaggerate the rest. Even before the sickness, he’d learned hurt feelings did nothing for him and how to mask them. They got no results. Just more ******** sad stares and pity. Anger got more results, but in times like these, the good could outshine the bad. That’s exactly what he did. Even if Tolliver still couldn’t see his face, his smile, warm and vibrant, returned, showing not a trace of his ache. Not even his eyes reflected an ounce of it.

“Baby.” His smile brightened, and he stroked his lover’s back, his arms encircling him in an embrace. “I couldn’t stop lovin’ even if I want to, an’ I don’t, I - I’m not goin’ anywhere - with you is the only place for me, Tolli - an’ I’d wait for you forever if that’s what it took.” He kissed the top of his head, soothed him with his hands, tugged him closer - and hated himself that much more for being so ******** selfish.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tolliver knew he was probably hurting Hitch; that his inability to say what he desperately wanted to say, now when it was more important than ever, was probably devastating, even if Hitch was holding him and smiling and touching him the way he always did, tenderly and adoringly. His expression was warm and beautiful when Tolliver pulled back to look at him - and yet the guilt gnawed at Tolliver’s stomach, hot and heavy, because he knew if it had been the other way around, he would have felt the same.

He had to say something, even if he couldn’t say what he really wanted to.

Tolliver shifted again, pushing into Hitch, and then he’d slid on top of him legs on either side of his waist to straddle him, hands against his chest to feel the heart beating beneath the skin. His eyes registered, just for a moment, a depth of pain and longing, of a desire for Logan to understand and a need for him so deep it made him tremble. Tolliver’s fingers began to trace lines across his lover’s chest, slow and steady.

“Logan,” he said, swallowing hard, voice thick. “Logan, you - you know what you - you said, you told me you - you l-l-l-love me - “

Tears clung to his lashes, and Tolliver reached for one of Hitch’s hands, took it and pressed it against his own chest, right above his heart so that he would be able to feel the rapid beating of his heart.

“M-me too, t-to you. This - this is yours,” he whispered, clinging to that hand, and he moved Logan’s fingers across his chest, over his stomach, everywhere, letting him feel the trembling, aching need that Tolliver felt. “M-my heart, my body, my s-soul, everything is yours. E-every p-part of m-me. Everything, Logan.”

He drew his lover’s hand up to his face now, Tolliver pressing soft, desperate kisses to his palm, his fingers.

Please believe me. Please understand me, like you always do.

Hitch wasn’t expecting Tolliver to move, but he wasn’t about to argue when he did, sucking in a low breath and sliding his hands to his lover’s hips by instinct, both holding and steadying the warm bundle in his lap. For a moment, his boyfriend’s hands against his chest and surrounded by warmth, he was reminded why he was okay with this. No, Tolliver didn’t have to say it; as long as he didn’t leave, then - then it was enough, that was all that should matter, it was --

Oh, but that <******** look in his eyes. What did it - did he feel guilty? Pity him? No, no that couldn’t be right, could it? Why couldn’t he read it? Hitch was subtle, yes, but he was so rapidly trying to process what he was seeing, to make sense of it, that there was no way it didn’t show on his face. His smile lingered, yes, because he was sure that Tolliver still needed it and he needed to be what Tolliver needed. But his mask slipped just a little when Tolliver, in his sweet way, repeated through sweetly sputtering words what Logan had said to him, and --

Don’t reject me. Not now.

That was the one brief, fleeting, altogether terrifying thought that he had. It was only a few seconds, at best. But in those few seconds, Logan probably looked more frightened than he ever had.

Then, everything shifted. Instead, he said ‘me too’. Instead, he was pressing his hands everywhere, telling him that this and that and every part of him, heart, body, soul, that they all belonged to him. Hitch’s eyes widened, his fingers curling desperately against Tolliver’s skin, and now instead of just afraid he was desperate and hopeful and teetering on the happiest he could possibly be, because he understood, he did, he knew what Tolliver was trying to say and --

“You don’t have to, “ he whispered, and his voice sounded more raw than he wanted it to, licking his lips at the sensation of Tolliver’s fleeting kisses to his palm. “You don’t have to say this, you know, I - I understand if - you know you don’t have to?” Did you mean it? Did you feel you had to? Please mean it, please -

The hands steady on his hips made him feel warm and secure, even with the anxiety skyrocketing through his chest. And the look on Hitch’s face shifted from confusion to something a lot less pleasant, genuine fear touching his eyes, and it made him suck in a sharp breath, a half strangled sob escaping Tolliver’s throat, because he was hurting him, he was hurting his lover, and it was agonizing to know that he’d caused that expression.

The tender gestures had an edge of desperation to them as Tolliver guided Hitch’s hand across his body, and he could feel the fingers of it moving, curling, grasping at his skin. It made him shiver, Tolliver shifting on Hitch’s lap, and he pressed a few more warm kisses to his palm before letting go. His hands skimmed across Hitch’s chest, caught the raw desire and need in that whisper, and Tolliver gave a hiccuping sob.

He leaned over Hitch, faces mere inches apart, and his breath was coming out in stuttered gasps.

“I do,” Tolliver whispered, and his lips brushed Hitch’s, once, twice, barely a kiss, more just Tolliver stealing a breath of his lover’s air. He drew his hands up Hitch’s sides and then pressed them flat against his chest, sliding them upwards until they were cradling Hitch’s face so tenderly it was as though he thought he would break if he was too forceful. Tolliver’s fingers were trembling, and he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

“I have to - you have to u-understand me,” he said, voice hoarse and raw, and he was almost speaking against Hitch’s lips, but not quite, mouths scarcely an inch away, as though Tolliver wanted to breathe the words into him, imprint them so that he would remember. “P-please, Logan, I m-mean it. My h-heart - my heart is forever yours, it’s all, entirely, completely yours and only yours, and so is the rest of me, p-please, I need you to - to believe me, I n-need you not to think that I d-don’t l - that I can’t r-return you feelings, because I do.”

He dropped his forehead onto Hitch’s, a sob escaping him, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers pressed into the sides of Hitch’s hair, tangling in the strands.

“I am yours,” Tolliver whispered. “I’m yours, Logan.”

The way Tolliver shifted made Hitch hiss, his eyes flickering darkly with need. At any given moment, there would never be a time when his boyfriend wriggling around in his lap wouldn’t effect him - “Tolli, “ and he tried to give him a half-assed warning, even if his lover probably knew exactly what he was ******** doing to him. Then he was sobbing again and Hitch’s heart melted all over again. He almost apologized - almost, the words about to leave his mouth, his fingers already prepared to run soothing lines down his sides.

Then those hands were back on his chest, Tolliver’s face so close to his own he could practically smell his tears, feel his ache. His breath was warm and ragged against Hitch’s cheek, and for a second he went half-lidded, because again, there would never be a time when he did not savor his lover’s closeness. He was so beautiful right now, although he’d never know it, his face framed with tears and red from crying. Tolliver, he knew, wouldn’t agree with him, but - it wasn’t just the way he looked, because yes, that was perfect, from his cheeks to his freckles and those delicious lips. It was also - how many of those tears had been because of him, all linked to his worry and fear and doubts? Again, he felt guilty. But like he mattered.

If the way Tolliver looked at him said he mattered though, his words, even more beautiful still, finally broke through and made him feel what his lover so desperately wanted to: loved. Hitch would’ve ******** hated it if he’d seen the look he gave his boyfriend at that moment, his face cradled in his lover’s hand and warmed by his words in ways he never thought he’d feel, and really didn’t think he deserved. He looked ******** breakable, brandishing a porcelain smile for his lover that reached every corner of his face. Tolliver might or might not have known the dark place he’d dragged Logan from, but he’d done it.

He leaned in, sliding his arms tight around his lover and dragging him close, closing the gap between them in one of those desperate, open-mouthed kisses he sometimes gave when words just weren’t enough. It was a ‘thank you’. It was pure, unbridled need. It was understanding, comprehension, acceptance. It was, more than anything: “I ********’ love you, “ breathed against Tolliver’s lips, his fingers curling almost painfully tight against the flesh of his lover’s back. “I ********’ love you, “ again, with a slight hitch to his words that he’d like to pretend weren’t there.

He did know what he was doing when he shifted on Hitch’s lap; and it wasn’t done out of spite, but out of a desire for Hitch to realize that Tolliver’s need for him was all encompassing - physical, mental, emotional, every part of him. He didn’t want just the sex, didn’t want just empty words, he wanted every single inch of Logan Hitchcock that he could possibly get. There was nothing in the world that could have even come close to comparing with the need and the adoration and yes, the love as well, Tolliver had for the man beneath him, beside him, with him.

Once the words had left, Tolliver felt the fear begin to rise again, because what if Hitch still didn’t believe him? What if he was hurt by the fact that the words wouldn’t come, if he would have to see that look of fear and sadness on his face again? His fingers trembled against the sides of Hitch’s face, and Tolliver kept his eyes closed, because he couldn’t bear to see if the expression on his face was one that would break his heart; would make him ache any more than he already did.

He’d spent a year and a half losing himself - or really, his entire life, all twenty-two years of it, and now, with Hitch, he was finally, finally finding himself again. He didn’t want to lose that, he couldn’t lose it without falling apart, and maybe this codependence was unhealthy and startling, but it worked for them, somehow, miraculously.

Believe me.

Slowly, a hiccuping sob escaping him, Tolliver opened his eyes - and a shudder went through him, violently shivering up and down his spine, because he’d never, ever seen that sort of look on his lover’s face, had never seen such a precious, fragile smile that shattered everything inside of Tolliver, until there was nothing left at all but Logan.

A gasp and another sob escaped him, muffled against Logan’s lips as he was dragged forward, but for once, Tolliver didn’t hesitate, didn’t make a sound of surprise. Instead, his fingers slid around to the back of Hitch’s neck, and he was kissing him, and it was rough and desperate and raw, and Tolliver was whimpering into it at every sound of that low voice, breathing every declaration of love into him. He drank in each time, tasting the words on his tongue, and he felt the hitch of breath, in spite of everything, and it made his lashes flutter, made tears sting the corners of his eyes.

He was loved. Logan Hitchcock loved him and nothing else mattered.

“Me too,” Tolliver murmured, and he trailed his fingers tenderly against the sides of Logan’s face as he pressed one, two, three kisses to his cheek, his nose, his forehead, temple, beneath his eyes. He stretched out a little atop his lover, hips aligning, Tolliver wanting to be so much closer, impossibly needing more. “Me too, to you.”

It felt pathetic, in comparison to what he was being told. But Tolliver simply lifted his head and kissed Logan again, deep and passionate and desperate, trying to convey everything without words.

Tolliver’s warmth was more than welcome against his back, and he let out a puff of smoke in a sigh as his lover nuzzled in between his shoulder blades. “I love the way you touch me, “ he mentioned idly, lightly, without looking back this time, reaching up to brush his fingers lightly over Tolliver’s own - he wanted to try harder at this, too, telling him how much he loved and appreciated everything about his boyfriend and what he did.

True, Hitch had always done that, right from the start. But it was even more important now, even more pressing after everything they’d been through together tonight. Everything Tolliver had given him, all without knowing how much it meant.

He knew what he was going to ask before Tolliver even began; he just waited for his lover to get the words out, took the time to make sure all of his wits were back where they were supposed to be. He took another drag of his cigarette, long and harsh, exhaling and sending a fresh cloud of smoke descending over them. “Yeah.” He hadn’t talked about this before (never the right time, never the right person, never comfortable enough), but he was pretty sure he could. It’d been long enough now, practically a lifetime ago.

Hitch could’ve just left it there, waited to see if Tolliver followed up, whether he had to say more - but he’d promised to try. So he just went ahead, gritted his teeth, and pushed ahead. Hitch tried to focus on the words, not the memories themselves; it helped that he’d already exhausted himself tonight. Somehow, that made it easier. Like he was telling someone else’s story instead of his own. “Mom grew up pretty ********’ religious, so I hear - then I happened, an’ - well, b*****d kid didn’t really fit with the whole Christmas card thing, but she wanted to keep me, so she ran off.”

Another drag, another puff. “She wasn’t really like them, y’know. - always argued with ‘em before me, never talked to ‘em again after me, so - I never met ‘em or nothin’, “ in case Tolliver thought it hurt. It didn’t, not really. They were people he’d never known, and never would know. His mother on the other hand, it’d hurt her a lot - that was the only part that got him, when she got that far off, pining look in her eyes and he knew he was the reason she was here and not there.

He toyed with the cigarette between his fingers, idly flicking the ashes away into the tray. “We were close, y’know? - had to be - she was more like, I don’t know - big sister age than Mom age - she tried though - she did her ********’ best, an’ she was ********’ amazin’, “ and even now that he was telling a story like this, he didn’t want to sell her short. No, she wasn’t a bad person. No, she wasn’t deliberately cruel, not most of the time. “Then I ******** it up - I started messin’ with one of the guys in my band - guitarist, “ like it mattered, stupid a** petty details.

“Anyway. She came home early one day, found us makin’ out on the couch - flipped the ******** out, “ and he said it nonchalantly, even if he could still see her rage in his mind’s eye, the image burned there as vivid as ever. Spit flying, veins popping, the angriest he’d ever seen her. “Said I didn’t know what I wanted, that was it just a phase, all the stupid s**t people say when they wanna cut you down, make you feel wrong an’ stupid or whatever, “ the whatever was deliberate, adding a casual edge to a story that really - there was nothing remotely casual about it. “I argued with her at first, but she threatened to kick me out - “

He left out the part where she’d flung a lit cigarette at him, and the part where she’d slapped him hard enough to make his jaw ache. That it’d been the first time his mother had ever raised a hand to him, how devastating it’d been, how much it’d rattled him and made him never really look at her the same. Again. Irrelevant details. “Said I’d let her down, said if I left that she’d done all she’d done for nothin’, that I didn’t really love her, an’... “ More, so much more that there was no point in dredging up. Just focus on the key points.

Hitch shrugged his shoulders lightly and took another drag of the cigarette, long and deep. “So I stayed. The ******** else could I do? - an’ things were just - weird after that. She was ********’ suspicious all the time. Kept pushin’ girls at me. Talked about grandkids all the damn time. Didn’t really want me goin’ out. Got mad over stupid s**t more. Weird s**t like that. Like she didn’t really trust me anymore, I guess.” He snuffed out what was left of the cigarette in the tray. “So yeah - it’s not the same, exactly, but - y’know, “ and he sort of trailed off, a little lamely, staring into the dark where he knew his mother’s photos were.

“Then I’ll keep doing it,” he murmured dazedly against his skin, and he would, Toliver pressing another kiss, nuzzling his face against his lover’s back. He caught ahold of the idle fingers that brushed over his own, squeezing gently before loosening his grasp to allow Hitch to wander freely with his own touches.

Even though he’d somehow known it before, the confirmation that Hitch’s mother was indeed the one who had caused him the pain sent a pang of sadness through Tolliver. True, he hadn’t told his own mother about himself - he had no idea how she would react - but even considering saying something like Mother, I’m gay and I’m in love with another man was terrifying, almost impossible. His fingers smoothed along Hitch’s back, feeling every dip and curve, every plane, because he knew how hard it was for him to talk about this, and he wanted to soothe him as best he could, wordlessly.

Tolliver did not have the same relationship with his own mother that Hitch had had with his. He appreciated and loved both of his parents, and while he was definitely a mama’s boy, it was an almost casual relationship. No deep conversations, no pain or heartache. Simple, lighthearted things, nothing like the intensely adoring relationship that Hitch was talking about.

At some point during the story, Tolliver had curled closer, heart aching in his chest, face still pressed against his lover’s back, nuzzled as close as he could be, and it was horrible to hear, a throbbing agony for Hitch’s pain settling deep within him. He hadn’t been there, he couldn’t say he understood fully, but he could understand at least a little, and it was painful to hear, but he wanted to, needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” Tolliver whispered, after a beat of silence had passed, and his eyes were stinging at the corners, a wetness clinging to his lashes, so he closed them, squeezed them shut to stop the tears from falling. “Logan, I’m so sorry.”

A few more kisses were pressed to his back, idle things because he was aching inside for everything that Hitch had gone through, and maybe it wasn’t quite the same with Fritz, but it was at least similar in some respects. And then Tolliver had pushed himself up abruptly and was leaning over his lover, hair swinging against his reddened face, cheeks damp because he hadn’t actually succeeded in not crying.

“But there’s nothing wrong with - with you,” he managed to get out, sucking in a sharp breath, fingers curling together against his palm, nails digging harshly into his skin. “This isn’t - it’s not a phase, and I know I can’t - I can’t take back what your mother said, what she did, because I’m not her and once it’s said you can’t erase it - “ You don’t even really know if you’re actually gay, Fritz had told him, how do you know he’s not just leading you on to mess with you? “ - but you’re - you’re not what she said, you’re n-not just a disappointment, you’re my Logan, you’re - you’re incredible, and you’re wonderful, and you take care of people and you l-love them, even when they ******** up - “ Because he had no doubt that Hitch had still loved his mother, even after everything, even through everything, because that was probably the hardest and most painful part: still loving her through her hatred and anger. “ - and you are not just s-some ******** up, or some k-kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing, you’re who you are, and you are - you are not a disappointment.”

It had all rushed out of him, the words tumbling together, Tolliver tripping over them as he spoke in his haste to get them out; and now he felt the familiar, embarrassed flush touch his cheeks, but he still stared resolutely down at his lover, because it had all been true, all of it.

Hitch was okay - or as okay as he could do - he couldn’t say it felt good to say it, ********, he was still so ashamed, not of this, just - it was complicated. Everything surrounding his mother and her memory was one cluster ******** of a complicated mess, and no matter how much he tried to detach himself from it, he still felt drained and somber when it was through. But he was okay, or would be. Tolliver’s lips on his back were soothing and welcome, and he shut his eyes, happy to focus on him again instead of that.

Then, abruptly, the lips were gone, and Tolliver’s warmth shifted. Hitch’s eyes fluttered open just in time to see his lover there, tears in his eyes and sliding down his cheeks, hair swinging from the determined, resolute way he’d flung himself upwards to be able to look him in the face. Hitch craned his head back, and - he wasn’t as shocked and defensive as he’d been the last time Tolliver had praised him not so long ago. The familiar rebuttal rose and fell in his throat, more aware of it now, because that barrier was gone - not forever, no. But tonight, in the moment, yes.

It didn’t mean he thought he deserved it, but he accepted it. He blinked already irritated eyes furiously for a moment, more weak than he wanted to be - and very much moved, and humbled, by what his lover was saying to him. Even if Tolliver didn’t have the whole picture, even if he was wrong about Hitch, still. Words still failed him, of course. He didn’t know how to deal with praise, with comfort. Gestures would always be more his forte, and it showed as he craned his neck further, tilting his body so his back and shoulder brushed up against Tolliver’s freckled chest so he could reach back and up. His hand curled at the back of Tolliver’s neck, and his lips pressed against his lover’s own, hoping he could taste it - his appreciation, his adoration, his love. When he pulled back, he lingered long enough to flash his lover a smile before he laid back down again to face the dark, half-hungry for a second cigarette. Or maybe a drink. Or maybe just more of Tolliver’s touches and soothing kisses.

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t enough for Tolliver, and he knew that. He deserved so much more than ‘thank you’.

“I love you.”

More than that, even. The words held weight, but he still wished he could have given him more.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t really matter now.”

Saying it out loud was a mistake, especially in that resigned, dry way. He’d was saying it to himself more than he was the beautiful man beside him, gaze distant again.

He knew that just saying it aloud now, in spite of the truthfulness of his words, would not entirely take away Hitch’s pain. It was not so simple, nor so easy, to negate years worth of heartache and sadness, after all, and Tolliver had only been dealing with Fritz’s rejection for a few weeks. But at the very least, he could at least remind Hitch that he was not alone anymore - and that his feelings were valid, and that they meant something important to someone other than himself.

Tolliver watched his lover somewhat apprehensively, wondering if he’d finally overstepped his bounds. But then Hitch was shifting, sitting up enough to slide a hand around the back of his neck, and kiss him, and Tolliver’s eyes fluttered a moment with surprise before falling shut. His own hand rose, touched the side of Hitch’s face with gentle fingers that slid down his jaw to cradle it tenderly, Tolliver leaning into it.

It was over too soon, but that didn’t matter, because the smile Hitch gave him made his stomach twist, and so did the words he was saying. A steady blush, always seemingly present, crawled its way across Tolliver’s face and settled there over his cheeks, bright and deep, and he had to wonder if he’d ever get used to hearing it. But even in his flustered state, he could now finally say it back when he wanted to.

“I love you,” Tolliver said softly, and slowly he eased himself back down beside his lover, nestling beside him once more so that he could feel his warmth and share in it, one hand smoothing up and down Hitch’s side in soft, shy gestures.

After a moment’s silence, he said quietly, hesitantly, “But...it does matter, d...doesn’t it? Otherwise…”

Otherwise it wouldn’t have hurt so much in the first place. Otherwise you wouldn’t still be shifting focus away from yourself, constantly putting it on me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t look the way you do when you talk about it.

Tolliver lapsed into silence, however, frustrated by his own lack of communication skills, and pressed a series of delicate kisses to Hitch’s back once more, between his shoulder blades.

If Hitch could drink words, he would have taken those three first: I love you. Did he realize how beautiful they sounded when they rolled off his tongue, in his voice, sometimes breathy like it’d been when he’d shown Tolliver how much he adored and appreciated him and his strength not so long ago. (Not a traditional strength, no, but it made Hitch appreciate it so much more - Tolliver’s strength was so unique, so special, so him. It wouldn’t have fit anyone else, but on his lover, it did so much so motivate and inspire Logan - even if sometimes it was just to get up and go about his day.)

Sucking in a shallow breath when Tolliver spoke, and even if he didn’t say it, he didn’t have to - Hitch knew what he was trying to say, he did - more or less, anyway - but - he laughed lowly in spite of himself, the laugh when he didn’t know what the ******** to say, and he finally reached and grabbed the pack of cigarettes again, because ******** it. “I - uh - that’s - not totally what I - I mean - “

He pulled out a cigarette and shoved it between his lips, and the spark of his lighter briefly illuminated their little corner of the room. “It doesn’t matter ‘cause she’s not around anymore.” His face glowed red in the smouldering little ember at the end of his cigarette. “That’s what I meant.”

Tolliver had busied himself with continuing in his small, sweet kisses against Hitch’s back, some lingering longer than others, some only brief and fleeting. It was not out of a desire for...well, desire, at least not in the heated, passionate sense of the word, but out of a desire for simple intimacy, both physical and otherwise. His fingers skimmed along the planes of his shoulders, simply reveling in the warmth and softness of his skin.

He heard the click of the lighter, felt, rather than saw, the intake of breath and the way Hitch moved - and in spite of Hitch’s distant removal from his situation, Tolliver, strangely - and maybe a little fearfully - did not agree.

Except saying so would contradict Hitch, and it was a daunting prospect, except what kind of relationship could they hope to be in if they couldn’t talk about things that mattered, things like this? Tolliver was quiet for another moment, nestled against his lover’s back, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and Hitch himself.

He pressed another little kiss to his shoulder and then shifted up, leaning partly over Hitch. Tolliver reached over him and slipped the cigarette from his fingers and stuck it in his own mouth, inhaling before he blew out a gust of smoke and rested there, propped against his lover’s side.

“It still...it still matters a little,” he said softly, though his voice was a little rough, trembling a little. “Something like that...you can’t just brush aside, even if she’s - she’s gone, it’s still something that affects you...right?”

Hitch had closed his eyes, humming softly as those much adored lips and hands wandered his back, and deliberately made the contented sounds a little louder whenever Tolliver stumbled upon a sensitive patch of skin. He would’ve been okay with silence, just savoring his closeness and comforting warmth. He told himself he didn’t need to be comforted, but he enjoyed it no less.

So of course it didn’t last. He felt his lover shift again beside him, leaning over him, and he didn’t even bother to resist as Tolliver plucked with cigarette from his hands, just watched his puzzled eyes as his lover put it to his lips and took a drag. He looked incredibly good like that, he mused to himself as he stared at him. It didn’t take away from the heaviness of the moment, just - Tolliver was an incredibly handsome man. Hitch was always aware of it. Sometimes it struck him though, blindsided him, how good his lover could look doing something so simple. That he could use ‘beautiful’ and ‘handsome’ and be describing the same amazing person, the same man, and he still sometimes struggled with it - saying I love Tolliver in his head was still easier than saying I love a man and his name is Tolliver. It was silly, it was stupid, it was nonsensical really, just -

“I - “ The accuracy of Tolliver’s words, the way he said it, it caught Hitch off-guard. He looked away. Then back again. He bit down on his piercing and fidgeted with it between his teeth. He wanted to lie; he wanted to duck behind nonchalance and shrug it off, like he’d been doing for weeks. He really, really didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I - “ He looked away again. He had to, and he reached up and plucked the cigarette from Tolliver’s fingers this time. Yes, he’d said he’d try. - just Tolliver’s words, how did he know? How did he ******** know? He took a solidly long drag from the cigarette, the ember at the tip burning brighter as he sucked hard at the filter, before he finally answered, a bit hoarsely, “Maybe.”

A little defensive, even if he didn’t mean for it to be. He exhaled the cloud of smoke harshly, almost aggressively - but he hadn’t said no.

He knew Hitch certainly didn’t think so, but Tolliver found his lover to be almost unbearably attractive at times. Maybe it had to do with the heat in his gaze whenever he looked at him, or maybe it was just because he was in love with him - but either way, regardless of the reason, Tolliver could never quite wrap his mind around how someone who looked like Logan Hitchcock could possibly find him - skinny, freckled, and awkward - even remotely good looking.

But his attention at the moment was on Hitch; and at the very least, Hitch had not gotten angry at him. Tolliver let the cigarette slip from his fingers and into his lover’s, hand lowering to rest alongside his other on Hitch’s shoulder. He bent his head and pressed an idle kiss to the warm skin, and while the defensiveness made him feel a little anxious, it wasn’t a complete denial.

Which was hopefully progress. Maybe.

Tolliver pressed yet another kiss, because shamefully he could never seem to stop touching Hitch, and then leaned over him, pressing a hand to his shoulder and trying to ease Hitch more to look at him.

“It’s a start,” he said softly, and bent over, nuzzling his nose against the side of Hitch’s face. “Maybe...maybe one day it’ll be easier to bear, but I’m at least able to be here for you through things, right..?’

He pulled back, the expression on his face still anxious as he looked down at Hitch, Tolliver sliding an absent hand along his chest. His other rose to tenderly sweep away a few stray strands of hair.

“I’ll be here with you always,” he murmured softly, fingers against Hitch’s temple. “I already promised you that I meant you were mine and I was yours, and now I promise you this as well.”

Hitch would list the ways if he was ever asked: like the line of Tolliver’s jaw, strong against an otherwise delicate face. How expressive his eyes were. The way he bit his lip, the way they were so sweet and warm and inviting. The curves of his hips, the intricacy of his scars (he was still waiting for the right time to ask for their story). So many things, so very many things made Tolliver so many more things - sexy, beautiful, handsome, elegant, more. Tolliver was all the words that were, and all the words that hadn’t yet been made.

The kiss was soothing, like it always was - and Hitch didn’t want to say more about it, didn’t want to scratch the surface of that, not because it was Tolliver but he just wasn’t ******** prepared to open that door. He didn’t fight his lover’s attempt to make him look; no, he did the opposite, just rolling languidly onto his back as he struck the cigarette back between his lips and kept it there, staring up at his lover. His hair was sprawled out in every direction beneath him, and he looked ******** exhausted; really, he always was. This was just on a different level was all, beyond the physical and well into the mental.

But it wasn’t all bad, really. He sighed at the lingering caresses and nuzzling, and the soft fingers against his forehead were soothingly cool. He tilted his head and nudged his lover’s wrist with his nose, inhaling his scent like the drug it was. “I really don’t know how I ********’ lived without you.” It was a simple, blunt statement left to hang in the air, and it was heavy and kind of suffocating, at least to Hitch, but - he meant it the way he said it. “I’m… here too y’know, “ and as if they needed any reminder, because Logan had always tried to be there, right from the start. But he’d sat there and cried tonight when Tolliver was the one that’d woken up sobbing and clawing. “Promise. Your promise, I’m keepin’ it too. I… I’m really happy, y’know, “ and he wanted to remind him of that too, because he’d been a ******** stupid wreck tonight, and just, “With you. I just get in these… things where... I’m just … you know what I’m sayin’, right?”

His gaze was half-lidded and lazy, yes, but also searching and a little desperate. Don’t make him try and say it. Tolliver had known before, just let him know now.

With Hitch on his back looking up at him, it was easier to see the expressions on his face. They were still a little shadowed; dark circles were beneath Hitch’s eyes, a seemingly constant presence, and as tired as he ever was. Even with Tolliver thinking he was handsome on so many levels, he couldn’t deny that Hitch indeed seemed to always look simply tired.

Tolliver’s fingers were gentle on the side of his face, and the inhale against his wrist made him wrinkle his nose and smile shyly. “Me either,” he said softly, surprisingly truthful, and maybe it was just the fact that tonight seemed a night for sharing things or opening up. “But maybe it wasn’t….maybe it wasn’t really living, you know, just rather...getting on with life instead of living it.”

And then he blushed again, because it sounded sillier said out loud than in his head. But Hitch’s reminders, in spite of Tolliver already knowing them, made a warm glow pulse in his stomach, spreading up to his chest to make him feel endlessly adored and taken care of. “I know,” he said quietly, because he did. Hitch didn’t need to say exactly what he was thinking for Tolliver to understand him. This may have been the first time that Hitch had truly broken apart in ways, but Tolliver doubted it would be the last.

He reached out and pulled the cigarette from Hitch’s teeth, putting it between his own so that his hands could be free, and Tolliver slid a leg over Hitch’s, easing himself rather easily on top of him so that he could see his face so that he could run gentle, tender fingers over his chest and stomach (and really, Tolliver just had a terrible knack for loving sitting in his lover’s lap, not that he’d ever admit to it). Tolliver withdrew the cigarette and then he leaned forward, kissing Hitch gently.

“You won’t scare me away,” he murmured, and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “I’ll still be here through everything, Logan. I chose you, all of you, and I love all of you.”

Tolliver would see it plain as day, the way his wrinkled nose and smile made Hitch grin - and the way that smile morphed into something else, something thoughtful and introspective, at what his lover said. “So many things you say, I - “ He laughed, although it wasn’t a laugh of humor; it was one of those place-fillers, something to cut tension, fill the gaps of uncomfortable silence as he found his carved out words. “I get it. How you feel, the way you think, I - ********, “ more placeholders, more distractions. “How did this even happen?” And he didn’t say it like it was a bad thing, just a shocking thing, one of those stupidly glorious little miracles; only instead of a boy being fished from a well or a ******** double rainbow or something, it was two sad, lonely a** people finding each other and getting the one thing neither of them knew they needed: some ******** understanding.

I know, and Hitch’s lips curled into a smile of complete ease and delight, relieved and happy, his eyes sliding shut. Right now, those were exactly the words he needed to hear. He didn’t protest when the cigarette was taken again, and he felt Tolliver move rather than see him, his lips parting in a low hum of pleasure as he settled back into his lap. He shivered when those fingertips ran over his body, and his back arched just a fraction. “Don’t stop, “ he mumbled when those hands left him.

Again. Those words, the ones that ripped right through him, and he finally opened his eyes just a fraction into narrow slits, staring up at his lover. The briefest cloud of doubt swept past him - instinctive, habitual - but he tried to remind himself who was he talking to. He tried to let himself believe in him, tried to wrap his head around the idea that it might be true, that even after everything Tolliver was still here and still wanted to love him.

He swallowed hard.

“Ditto.”

And it was such a lame, simple answer for something that meant so much more, but then he leaned up enough to kiss him, and hopefully that’d fill in at least some of the gaps.

This was a step further; Tolliver was the world, and everything else was silence. Logan lived completely in the moment, their moment and the love they shared. That was why even hours later, even if his body had been exhausted from the start, Logan hadn’t wanted it to stop. It wasn’t just romantic, it wasn’t just fulfilling, it wasn’t just liberating, it was - it was all of that, and beautiful, and powerful, and he didn’t want to go back. Maybe that was when he should have tried his wish again, the one where time would stop - but he didn’t even think of wishes. All he could think of were Tolliver’s wandering hands, his teeth on his neck, and the new depths that Logan’s love for Tolliver St. James had sunken to - he didn’t think, just felt.

Light was rising in the horizon, brightening the view outside of the apartment’s old, tiny windows, lined with streaks. Soon, Hitch would have to rise and prepare for a long day of work. - but soon was not yet, and he wanted to live in this moment for as long as he could. His lips left teasing kisses on those fingers as they curled there. “You’re right, “ he murmured, a wry smile on his face. “I am yours, always - an’ you too - you’re mine, “ and his voice was thick with exhausted satisfaction and contentment. “Never won’t be, babe. Y’hear me?”

In the throes of heat and passion, Tolliver had said a great deal of things; many of them would never be spoken outside of pleasure, but some of them - the consistent and raggedly breathed out "I love yous" - would be whispered again into Hitch's ear on days where he felt the best about himself and about the two of them. Sometimes he’d need reassurance or reminders, but at the very least he knew it now, more than ever.

Hitch's words warmed his already overheated body, and Tolliver managed to open his eyes a little more. His hand reached for one of Hitch's, and almost sleepily he pressed little kisses to his fingertips, simply wanting him close. They'd spent essentially all night doing just that, but this was something different, not necessarily physical, but emotional.

"I wish you didn't have to go to work," he murmured, and snuggled closer. "I know we don't have to be together every second of every day, and I don't want you to feel trapped by me, but I just..." His breath eased out in a sigh, eyes fluttering shut. "I love it when you're near me, I love it when I can touch you, kiss you whenever I want."

He was too tired and too content and too sated to be shy, Tolliver moving almost subconsciously, speaking from his heart without hesitation. He tilted his head up nuzzling Hitch's face, and then kissed him. It was a soft thing, nothing rushed or fervent, but slow, almost a little lazy.

"You make me feel so incredible," he mumbled as he pulled away, eyes still shut; and the exhaustion must have loosened his anxiety, eased him into a state of tranquility, because Tolliver seemed to be having no issues or embarrassment speaking now. "********, just...everything. I don't react - I've never reacted to anyone this way, just you, and only you, I can't ******** get enough of you, you're always in my head and my heart and I just want you to make me yours forever."

Who knew how long forever would last? Tolliver certainly didn't, but he wasn't thinking about that now, only the mind numbing pleasure and happiness he had felt and was feeling now. He eased himself closer still, face buried against his lover's chest as Tolliver shifted partially onto his side.

"I love you," Tolliver breathed out, fingers splaying across Logan’s chest. "So much it scares me sometimes, because I want you so badly and I need you like ******** air to breathe, but everything - my body, my head, my heart - all of it is yours. Do with it what you wish, I'm entirely, completely yours from now on."

Really, Tolliver could have kept right on doing this forever and Hitch’s life would have been better for it. Another thing that endeared him about his boyfriend though - even when he said things that subtly reminded Hitch how much he was wanted and needed, Even when Tolliver was being as open at this, he still backpedaled like he was afraid that he might actually get mad or something about it. But it was so like him, and that was just part of the puzzle that made up Hitch’s love for him, really. He laughed softly, nuzzling into his lover in turn before he sighed. “I don’t want to go either, “ because of course he didn’t want to be away from him, much less to go do something he hated. It wasn’t like they ever openly talked much about Hitch’s jobs and his feelings towards them, but he was pretty sure Tolliver already knew. His boyfriend was almost (key word: almost) annoyingly perceptive when it came to s**t like that.

The progression from nuzzle to kiss was so natural, so ******** easy, so… Hitch made a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat. fingertips curling under his lover’s chin. It couldn’t get better than this. This had to be the pinnacle, right? - he couldn’t possibly go any higher than this, at this moment, at this point in time. His lips pressed lazy, messy kisses wherever they could, and he shivered at what Tolliver was saying because it was literally ******** everything he could ever want or hope to hear.

He wanted to be someone’s - he wanted someone to be his - he wanted to matter, and he wanted it to be Tolliver he mattered to. “You - “ His fingers wound into Tolliver’s hair, clutching lightly, not painfully but just enough to show he was needed, “ - you give me a ********’ reason to get up in the mornin’, y’know, “ and he’d thought it before, though it a million times, but never said it. “I’m not just sayin’ - I love you too, “ he breathed out, basically the heart of his confession, shutting his eyes. “I’m so - I’m just so ********’ - so ********’ happy you’re here.”

He was in a state of delirious, dizzy happiness, Tolliver wavering somewhere between sleep and awake. Blissfully aware of Hitch’s presence next to him, warm and solid and secure, Tolliver could have spent the rest of his life in this moment, with the taste of his lover on his tongue and the feel of those warm arms round him, of those messy kisses against his skin. Some tickled, some made him shiver, some just made him stupidly happy, even more so than he already was.

The fingers in his hair made him let out a soft sigh of pleasure, in spite of being too exhausted to do more than that. But there was just something terribly pleasing about having his hair toyed with, and Tolliver arched into Hitch a little more, nuzzling against his chest. He let those warm, wonderful words sink into him, let the feel and the meaning of them make his stomach twist and his chest tighten and throb with adoration and love.

Some people didn’t like the concept of being considered someone else’s. Some people didn’t want to belong to another person, and that was fine. But it wasn’t Tolliver. He wanted, needed that connection, needed to be a part of someone else, needed for Hitch to be there for him - and most of all, he wanted it. He wanted to belong to someone else other than himself.

“I want to wake up to you,” Tolliver murmured sleepily, and more soft kisses were pressed where he could reach, mostly against Hitch’s chest. “I want to always wake up to you.”

He nuzzled closer, clearly on the verge of sleep now, but Tolliver wrapped himself fully around his lover and let himself sink into the warmth.

“When you get home,” he mumbled. “I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

Hitch wouldn’t sleep again tonight, he knew that - but it was okay. In all the ways that mattered, he was refreshed. He was happy. He loved and was loved. Everything else came second to that.

He cradled his lover close in his arms, watching Tolliver through half-lidded eyes as his boyfriend began to drift off. Beautiful, he was so ******** beautiful. “Home, “ he repeated softly, almost inaudibly as they both lay there, drunk off each other. He’d told Tolliver once before, and he thought it again now - home was not this mildewed apartment with tiny windows and barely enough space. Home was Tolliver curled up on his bed, waiting for him, eyes bright and eager when he stepped into the door. Home was their laughter, their tears, their hands winding together in the dark and glances exchanged in the dull red glow of shared cigarettes.

Tolliver might or might not hear him, now. But --

“You are my home, “ was whispered, one last secret shared before the sun came up and scattered them. And then, silence.