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As Tolliver cleaned him, Hitch went silent. Not because he was any less sorry, but - it hurt. No matter how gentle the wash rag was, everything ******** hurt. And he was just so ******** tired. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, again and again, desperately trying to keep both things in check. Every now and then, though, he slipped - a tenseness in his shoulders here, a quick hiss of breath between his lips there - once, he made a choking sound in the back of his throat that might have been a yelp if he’d let it.

Tolliver shouldn’t have to do this. His eyes were dark and glazed, staring down at his own lap, guilty heavy in his chest and making him ache that much more. Then, abruptly his lover stood. It was the first time Hitch had looked up since he’d sat down, visibly confused and fearful.

Until those words left Tolliver’s mouth, and fear, the kind his lover had been in quick flashes on his face, took over completely. He thought back to his bank account. He thought back to hospital bill after hospital bill when his mother had been in and out, and finally, in for good. The constant noose of debt hanging over his head, every ******** month struggling to keep it together.

“No, “ and his voice shook shamefully at first, and Hitch blinked once, then twice, and anger wasn’t really so far removed from fear; his face contorted with it, lips peeling back in a snarl, feral and defensive. What little room for argument there was - he’d ******** take it. “No ******** hospitals, ” and that time he didn’t shake, he still sounded raspy and broken, but it was a fire lit that Tolliver had seen mostly in passing, only experienced once.

Tolliver was not physically hurt like Hitch was, but he was in pain every time he heard the muffled hisses of pain, the clearly restrained gasps for breath, low and rough. He could not remember a time when he had been more terrified, more agonized, then when he’d gotten into his own accident, and this was not even the same, this was Hitch, this was his lover, this was the man who had singlehandedly managed to turn his life around, it was ******** personal now.

Under normal circumstances, Tolliver would have been frightened by the look on Hitch’s face - he would have been devastated, would have been upset, hurt, a myriad of other things - but not today. Not now. Not when Hitch was sitting covered in blood with who knew what sorts of internal injuries he could possibly have that Tolliver could neither see, nor fix, on his own.

Tolliver’s voice shook, but the fire had not left him.

“You,” he said, with barely constrained anger, but it leaked out anyway, every word sharp, too sharp, biting through the air. “don’t have a ******** choice. I will not sit here and let you ******** bleed out all over our <******** bathroom because you were too <******** stubborn to go to the ******** hospital.”

He was trembling all over, sweat on the back of his neck, and Tolliver felt himself like he was about to throw up, but he had to keep it together, had to hold it in, just for now, just until he got Hitch to safety, to the one place he knew that could help him, because he couldn’t ******** do it, he couldn’t help him, and it was killing him inside, but he could do this, he could do something.

“We are going to the ******** hospital and you are going to get some mother ******** help, Logan Hitchcock, and you can ******** argue with me all you want, but you don’t have a ******** choice in the matter.”

Tolliver drew in a rattling breath, and he didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to point it out, but the tears in his eyes were blurring his vision, and he couldn’t stop shaking, teeth clenched together, and it hurt, it hurt so badly, and he knew Hitch was probably dying inside, but he couldn’t let him die because of him, he could not just sit here and let him bleed, and everything was just so ******** up -

“You gave up the ******** right to have a choice when you left me alone.”

Throughout the tirade, every ******** word of it, Hitch grew increasingly tense. In spite of his exhaustion, his agony, rage was just so familiar, so easy to slip into, and even now it warmed him - and the more Tolliver spoke, the angrier he got. His jaw set. His dark eyes blazed. He parted his lips more than once, like he was waiting for a chance to interrupt, waiting for an outlet, waiting for his chance to shoot down the idea - and he didn’t care about scaring his lover right now. Tolliver had, in that brief moment, made the shift from his only ally to his enemy. After what he’d said to Fritz tonight for Tolliver’s sake - and then he ******** did this - he tried to ******** force him into something he wouldn’t, couldn’t do -

But that last part - that last part just shattered him. The angry red faded from his cheeks and left him as pale as ever, slumping and with his eyes dim and dark again because he was half right. He’d left Tolliver. He’d left him alone and done exactly the one thing he was never, ever supposed to do for him. And even if he’d had the best intentions, even if he knew Eurydike and what he stood for was important, he’d been so ******** stupid about it. If he’d only thought first - if only his senses were better - if only he’d run away when he’d had the chance - if only he hadn’t gone out at all -

“I can’t, “ and his guilt choked him, the noose settling around his shoulders, and he looked down again. “Y-you’re right, but - I can’t. I can’t go Tolliver. Don’t make me go, “ and he shook, more angry at himself than anyone else, clutching hard at his bruised sides. “I can’t - I don’t have ********’ insurance Tolli, I’ll - there’s no ********’ way I can - I can’t ********’ afford this, “ and once he finally admitted it, the words flowed, as they usually did, faster and more frantic, his breath shallow and wheezy, and he was rocking lightly, eyes clenched shut because he couldn’t ******** look at him when he said it.

He hated himself for saying it, hated himself for putting that out there, hated even more Hitch’s reaction to it. The look in his eyes was enough to crush Tolliver’s heart, and he swallowed hard, willing himself to remain calm. He couldn’t stop the trembling that shuddered up and down his entire body, nor could he prevent the tears that slid silently down his face, damp against his cheeks; but he could at least not collapse to the ground in devastation. He was hanging on by a ******** thread, but Hitch looking the way he was, in the state he was, was enough to keep him moving forward.

It should have been a surprise to him, but it wasn’t; instead, it was a reaffirmation of a belief that Tolliver had somehow known, deep in his heart, but had never dwelled too much on, and now he felt the guilt begin to p***k at him, felt a hot welling of shame in his stomach. The size and state of the apartment, the lack of all expensive electronics, the careful selection when shopping - and meanwhile, Hitch had been buying food, taking care of Tolliver, making sure that he was comfortable, and how much money had he spent on him over the past few weeks while Tolliver had laid around? He wasn’t working, he wasn’t paying rent - he had money, but he wasn’t contributing in the slightest.

But this...the agony in Hitch’s voice was painful to hear, and Tolliver closed his eyes briefly, swallowing hard, and when they opened again, they were glassy and sad.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and his head moved side to side in a slow, helpless shake, Tolliver taking a step back, steadily moving out of the bathroom. “I’m sorry, Logan, but I can’t let you stay like this. I have to do this.”

Even if you hate me. Even if you never want to speak to me again, if you blame me, I will not let you die, and I would rather you hate me than have you gone entirely.

His voice shook the entire time he was making the call.

Hitch didn’t open his eyes when Tolliver spoke; he knew his lover was getting further and further away, and whose ******** fault was it? - his hands slid up to press their heels hard against Hitch’s burning eyes, and even that hurt. His body, his head, his ******** heart. Everything.

The plethora of anger, guilt, misery, more - it piled higher and higher on him, fracturing him like he hadn’t felt since - since before Tolliver. Only worse. Only worse because now he’d hurt his lover, the only person to give a flying ********, he’d hurt him and betrayed him and ******** told Tolliver the one thing, finally, that ******** it all up. Hopes of holidays and a future and mornings with his lover next to him suddenly felt so far away - and like he’d thought the whole time - he’d been the one to ******** it up. And now he’d be deeper than ever, there’d never been a way up, he never expected to get his head above water, and he’d accepted that, but this -

It happened about a minute after Tolliver hung up; Hitch’s voice echoed from the tiny bathroom that was theirs in a guttural, prolonged, howl, raw and broken, that devastated his already abused throat. Misery. Frustration. Anger, most of all anger because in the end it was all he ever ******** had.

One howl. And then, nothing but silence until the ambulance began to wail in the distance.

If there had ever been a moment when Tolliver St. James hated himself as much as he could possibly hate himself, it was this moment, right here, right now. The guilt, the shame, the utter and complete devastation was all compounded the second that howl was ripped from Hitch’s throat, and it reverberated throughout the bathroom, echoed in the walls, in Tolliver’s heart, his very soul. He didn’t remember moving, but somehow he was crouched down on the floor just outside of the bathroom, out of view, his head in his hands, gasping, wracking sobs escaping him. He couldn’t <******** breathe, couldn’t even think beyond getting Hitch the help he needed, because his favorite person in the entire world was sitting five feet away, bleeding steadily onto the bathroom carpet.

He was moving on autopilot by the time the paramedics arrived, letting them into their small, shabby apartment, with stiff movements, tear tracks down the sides of his face. They were nothing if not efficient and calm, never rushed, in spite of Tolliver’s heavy impatience and constant desperation to just help him. Questions were asked - he didn’t even remember the answers he gave them, something vague and unhelpful, probably - and then they were bringing the gurney in, and they were getting out their equipment, and everything hurt.

He thought he might pass out. He thought he might drown in the feelings of agony and sadness and longing that were climbing their way up his chest and settling in his throat, because nothing, nothing was more painful than this.

One of the paramedics was talking to him still, clipboard in hand, and Tolliver wasn’t sure what he was being asked, until a singular question made its way into the depths of the darkness that threatened to consume him.

“Pardon?” he asked, chest feeling tight, and she glanced up, brow furrowed, but still remaining as professional as ever.

“What’s your relationship with the patient?” she asked again, gently, like she knew how much he was dying on the inside.

Tolliver’s gaze flickered towards Hitch, towards the cluster of uniformed people moving around him, taking his pulse, his blood pressure, the rip of bandages, the low murmur of reassuring voices. And he could hear, in his head, the ragged sound of Hitch’s voice, desperate and raw, telling him that he [couldn’t afford this, that he did not have the money.

He couldn’t lose him.

“Husband,” Tolliver said. “He’s my husband.”

Hitch gave short, curt answers to the paramedics, too exhausted, pained, and stressed to do much else. No one seemed to fault him for it - somehow that just annoyed him more. He knew how hospitals, how these ******** people worked. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent enough time in one. They tried to pretend they cared, but they didn’t - not really - his mother’s situation was more than enough proof that they couldn’t even be assed to take care of their own.

Still, he could see Tolliver there, talking to the paramedics. He shot him a long, unreadable look before he shut his eyes as they bustled around him, trying to tune them out. Especially when they stuck a damn mask over his face and cut his shirt and flannel to shreds with their scissors, his face burning with shame.

In the ambulance, they forced him to lay down - kept poking and prodding and checking, pressing gauze to his back - and Hitch just had to wonder if Tolliver was there, too. Had he stayed home? Was he sitting in the front of the ambulance, just out of sight? - had he called Fritz to come and pick him up? - was he gone for good after that shitshow? After that betrayal? - who’d actually betrayed who, though?

He didn’t know how much time passed when he got to the hospital. Hitch heard words floating around him, things like ‘stitches’ and ‘broken’ and ‘bruised ribs’, ‘mild concussion’. They explained it to him, but he only remembered half of it - like he had no idea what they slipped him, coaxed him to swallow, or how much it must cost. But ******** if he even cared after that. He could hardly think much at all as that s**t kicked in, and he knew who he was and where he was and all, but it felt ******** foggy - like a goddamn waking dream.

He heard other words from the staff too, at a distance: Terrorist. Monster. Police. Husband.

Hitch also didn’t know how many stitches he actually got - he just remembered the numbness of his back after another shot, and being aware of still more poking and prodding, for students’ benefits, not for his. He half-remembered the sharp, sudden pain when they reset his fingers, the fresh heaviness of the cast they set, as long as his wrist and thick. How am I going to work like this? Was the first thought he had. Then, cooking and drumming - he wouldn’t be able to do those either, would he? Not like he was used to.

Finally, finally, he was laying on a bed with fresh white sheets to match all the gauze and bandages, half-sleep and pining for home - for a second chance - for an apology - there would be so much to do when he got there - home, he meant - but did he really even have a home to return to? Was Tolliver even going to be there? There was so much, still, and Logan was still sorely overwhelmed, sorely exhausted (and had been long before that night), and while his thoughts were everywhere and nowhere, what he wanted most of all - in spite of the fact that it was going to ******** ruin him - was his lover there beside him. The pain was subdued, but the pangs of loneliness were random, sporadic, and painful in a different way.

It was his own fault, though. All of this. He ******** deserved it all.

He was there.

Unlike in the movies, or in television shows, the back of the ambulance was too small for Tolliver to ride in, even though he did try. He was guided around to the front - either the driver felt sorry for him, or the fact that he had no car to drive to the hospital was apparent - because they helped him up into the cab and made sure he was secure before taking off.

There were no sirens; while Hitch’s injuries were serious, none of them were as life threatening when he was actually being taken care of, and Tolliver had leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes and listening to the steady rush of cars passing them by.

The hospital was a blur. He sat outside of the surgeon’s room with his arms wrapped around his stomach, rocking back and forth and trying to quell the sobs that kept threatening to devour him. The panic had dulled to something less clawing, a sort of numbness that made his fingers tremble, his body starting to shut down along with his mind.

Hitch wasn’t in there long, but he was in there long enough. Any time in there was too long.

He didn’t remember the questions he’d been asked, Tolliver answering them in a flat, disconnected voice that didn’t sound like his own. He knew the lie about Hitch being his husband would come back to bite him in the a**, but it didn’t matter, because Hitch was getting what he needed, and he’d been too desperate to even care at all.

The room he was brought to was on the third floor; a single room with curtains around the bed. Tolliver had been sitting there for however long it had been since they’d finally, finally settled him into it, the sky outside growing lighter and lighter, streaked with dim purples and oranges.

He was asleep - or at least, he appeared to be. Tolliver had dragged the chair over to the side of the bed and was bent over it, his arms folded, his head resting on the, turned to face his lover. His eyes were closed, breathing a little staccato, because every few seconds a soft, little sob would escape, Tolliver’s lashes fluttering, cheeks wet and flushed. He hadn’t reached for Hitch’s hand, only because he wasn’t sure if it would hurt too much, but he was there, and he would be there, even if Hitch didn’t want to see him.

Even if Hitch never wanted to speak to him again.

Did he hear something?

Finally, Hitch forced his heavy eyelids open, bleary-eyed as he tried to take in the room he was in. Wherever the ******** he even was in the hospital. They’d stuck his mom in maternity a few times, space issue. - ******** he hoped this wasn’t maternity.

Laying there though, on his stomach so as not to disturb the stitches and elaborate bandages lacing his back, he tilted his head just enough to get a glimpse of - of his lover, sitting there and sobbing softly, eyes closed and there he was there he’d come with him after all that bullshit?

He didn’t even think, his head too clouded to reflect on the debt, the bills, the long term - all he knew was his lover was there and he needed him. Without making much of a sound besides the rustling of sheets, Hitch slowly shifted, just enough to be able to reach out with his good hand; he touched a knee, curling his fingers against the fabric of Tolliver’s pants. “Baby, “ and he croaked it out, yes, but he sounded as relieved as he did terrible.

He didn’t hear Hitch stirring, didn’t move at all until he felt that hand on his leg. Tolliver jerked abruptly out of his half-slumber, the chair screeching as he stumbled up, knocked into it, caught himself, and glanced around frantically.

“Logan?” he said, and his voice came out hoarse, a disbelieving, desperate note to his voice, Tolliver moving his hands restlessly across the bed, not quite touching Hitch, but wanting to so badly. “Logan?”

He caught the open eyes, and relief - beautiful, overwhelming relief cascaded over him, Tolliver choking out a sob, tears beginning on his lashes. He didn’t know how long he’d sat there waiting, praying, hoping that everything was okay, and it still wasn’t okay, but at least - at least Hitch was awake, and ******** he was so <******** relieved -

“You’re still here,” Tolliver gasped out, chest heaving, and he collapsed back into his chair, reaching out towards Hitch but still not touching him yet, still too afraid he would hurt him, fingers stopping short. “You’re still ******** here, thank goodness, you’re still ******** here, I love you, I love you, ********, ********, ********, you’re still here, you’re alive - “

He couldn’t stop shaking, another sob wracking his body.

Hitch didn’t say much of anything while the nurses were still there, staring straight at the wall instead of looking at either of them. The ache pounded on in his chest - because he knew he still missed her and he knew he had been trying not to think of her, knew he felt guilty about it, but - he hadn’t really known how much. He wouldn’t remember it later, most likely, the heaviness that had in the pit of his stomach, the desperation he’d felt when he’d hope for that wild second. But it sobered him up now, left him more level-headed but somber.

The only time he spoke, finally, was when the nurses were gone and Tolliver’s fractured voice drifted over to him. Fresh guilt twisted in the pit of his stomach. “Tolli, “ he called quietly, in his soft, raspy, broken voice. He didn’t try and get up again; what he did so was shift, very carefully, wiggling himself over enough to leave more space on the side of the bed. Some wires pulled here and there, but he did a good enough job, and he didn’t hurt himself at least. - even if he had just broken the nurse’s orders a tiny bit.

“I’m sorry, “ he repeated, for his lover’s ears alone this time, and shut his eyes because the lids were already growing heavy again. He tried not to resent it. “I didn’t - will you - come sit with me?” he asked, softer still now. “Please, babe...?”

He wasn’t sure if Hitch even wanted to speak to him, or if he was too angry and too filled with resentment to even notice he was there.

But then his voice - still ragged, still rasping, still broken, still painful - came wafting towards him, along with the sound of sheets rustling and the soft whine of wheels as the IV stand was pulled just a slight bit closer to the bed. Tolliver forced himself to look up, saw the way that Hitch had made that space for him, small, yet enough for him to be.

A hiccuping sob escaped him. Tolliver got unsteadily to his feet, wavering a little, and then hesitantly stepped closer, trying to swallow back the fears and anxiety. He sat down on the edge of the bed, but didn’t stop there. Toeing off his shoes, making sure he wasn’t trapping any cords or tubing beneath him, Tolliver eased himself fully up, stretching out carefully beside Hitch, and for the first time, he was grateful for just how skinny he was - even if there was still the guilt over not eating.

“Logan,” he whispered, and then he was crying, yet again, wanting so badly to move closer, but the fact that he couldn’t was killing him, and he pressed his face into the pillows, trying to stifle the sounds.

“Logan, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry - “ and Hitch wouldn’t probably remember this later, too drugged up, too much in pain, but he said it anyway, just to get it out. “ - I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me, I love you, please - “

A slow, heavy sigh escaped Hitch’s lips as he felt his lover settle into bed beside him, flashes of his warm heat brushing up against his side. It wasn’t enough, still - he longed for more closeness, but - at least like this, he could shift enough to throw his good arm over him, curling around to his back. It wasn’t the same as curling into him, his chest to Tolliver’s back, but there would be time. He would go back to that.

This was still close - it was still the best he’d had today, and he gave a rumble of pleasure. After all the sounds of distress and agony he’d made today, it tasted strange in his mouth. “Don’t cry, “ and he tilted his face towards his boyfriend, tilted his head forward enough to brush his lips against his lover’s hair. “Babe… don’t cry, okay? - I’m sorry - I - “ He spread his legs out enough so one of them could rest against Tolliver’s.

“I love you, “ and he wanted to say more, wanted to but he was getting sleepier by the minute, exhaustion seeping fresh into his bones via IV. “I was so stupid, babe, so stupid, I - I just wanted to protect you - “ He was too tired, drifting further and further away. “ - if I hadn’t been so ********’ stupid, I - I’m sorry - please don’t - I’m so… “ He was biting back a yawn, now - and by biting back, it meant no, he was ******** yawning and trying to keep his lips pressed together like he wasn’t.

The arm around him was almost overwhelming, because he was so damn desperate for Hitch to be okay, he was so damned desperate for him to be all right, and he was terrified that things would change; that Hitch would be too resentful of him to love him anymore. Tolliver made a sound like a half-strangled sob in his throat, wanting more than anything to snuggle closer and knowing he couldn’t.

And here Hitch was, even after everything, attempting to reassure him. Even through the haze of pain and drugs and anger, he was leaning to kiss his hair, whispering gentle words of love and kindness, and Tolliver felt that leg against his and inched his own closer, small fractions of physical comfort that he needed, that he craved.

Protect me from what? was the question he longed to ask, but Hitch was seeping further and further into tiredness, the medication making everything come out sleepier, quieter, even if Hitch was trying to pretend it was. Tolliver shifted a little, biting back another sob, and craned his head, managing a slightly awkward, yet still there even if it was light, kiss to his lover’s lips.

“Go to sleep,” he managed to get out, fingers gentle against his face, Tolliver’s face damp. “I love you, I promise I will never leave you, I’m staying with you.”

For as long as you let me, was the unspoken thought, because he had no doubt that at some point Hitch would remember and he’d be angry and he’d ******** everything up, but this moment - this moment was needed, and Tolliver clung onto it desperately, trying to remember it.

“Sleep, heart,” he said softly. “When you wake - when you wake for real, we can go home.”

In spite of everything, the dopey, if weathered, smile on Hitch’s lips after that kiss was very much him - and it grew a bit, just a fraction, at the petname coupled with a promise. “I’ll remember that.” He wouldn’t. None of this stopped him from grunting as he shifted a little closer, tugged Tolliver a little harder, pressed his forehead up against his lover’s shoulder, and sighed as he began to allow himself to drift off.

“Thanks… “ Maybe it was unexpected, because he’d been so quiet for a long moment before that, eyes closed and face serene. “For takin’ care of.... y’know… “ And then he really was gone again, for now; he’d be in and out again throughout the evening and night, but never like the last time. Sometimes he just opened his eyes as if he were checking to make sure Tolliver was still actually there; once he caught sight of him, he’d drift right back off again.

Once, he mumbled something about a “Hot Topic dominatrix b***h”, in his own words. His brows had furrowed and he’d shifted a little when he said it; a few times, he didn’t open his eyes at all. He just mumbled an apology, maybe once, maybe four times, and then fell silent again.

The next day, late in the morning, was the first time his eyes opened and he really - was actually there, in a whole sense - or would be - brows furrowed and eyelids fluttering against the sunlight pouring in the window.

“It’s too goddamn bright, ” he snorted, throwing an arm over his face.

Tolliver lay awake a long while after Hitch had drifted off, just watching the slow and steady rise and fall of his breathing. He could feel the sobs beginning to subside after a while - they started up again fresh about an hour later, when his eyes drifted to his bandaged back, but Tolliver was exhausted in every sense of the word. The bed was not exactly comfortable, but it wasn’t terrible, and he fell asleep himself after a while, dreaming of blood and darkness and he thought he might have heard dominatrix b***h at some point, sending a chill of cold through him.

He was still asleep when Hitch stirred, curled up on his side beside his lover, arms cradled against his chest so that his hands were near his chin, tucked together. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, which were red and swollen, and the pillow beneath his head was stiff and crinkled from the many tears he’d shed over the course of the night.

He shifted a little, Hitch’s familiar, rasping voice ebbing into his dreams until they became more of a reality, sifting through the thoughts. Tolliver’s lashes fluttered, but he didn’t open his eyes, not yet, still half lost in the throes of being half awake and half asleep still.

“Logan?” he mumbled sleepily.

Just as Tolliver began to stir, Hitch stole a peek at him from under his arm - and that was when he realized, clearly, where he was. He knew a hospital room when he saw one. He remembered the argument they’d had in the bathroom, although through the haze of pain it felt like it’d been a dream. Bits and pieces, too - yelling about work, the look on Tolliver’s face, the nurse with the soft hands - they didn’t feel real. They felt like they’d happened to someone else besides him.

He knew they hadn’t, though - when he tried to shift, even just a little, the stiffness of his body and the ache of his back and ribs said it was so. (And god he was stiff. The bruising had, by now, was about as intense as it was ever going to be - and he had a lot of it.) He knew he’d told Tolliver he didn’t want to be here. He knew he’d been taken here anyway - and he’d been here for at least a day - and he didn’t know how the ******** he was going to pay for it, or -- it all came to him in a rush, a wave of emotions meant to ensnare and drown him in its depths.

But he could see Tolliver laying there, dark circles under his eyes, which were clearly puffy from crying - crying about him - crying for him - and he looked terrible and beautiful all at once, enough to take Hitch’s breath away and strike a chord of emotion in him.

He wanted to be mad. He so badly wanted to be mad, because he didn’t know what the ******** he was even going to do now.

Looking at Tolliver though, hearing him murmur his name - he couldn’t.

He was just tired of trying. Of fighting. That was all.

“Tolli. - it’s too bright in here, “ he hissed softly, tilting his face to bury it in the pillows.

It took him a few moments for Tolliver to drag himself out of the haze he was in, forcing his eyes open and blinking slowly, his lashes feeling heavy and thick. Even then, he didn’t seem fully awake, eyes unfocused, Tolliver utterly disoriented. The blankets were tangled around his waist and legs, one of which was still pressed against Hitch’s.

“Logan?” Tolliver said again, and he shuffled automatically closer, clearly thinking they were still in their own bed, back at their place (their place, their home, their everything). But when he felt something prodding at his side, the steady shift of unfamiliar sheets, everything came back to him in a rush.

He sat up suddenly, which was a mistake, because he hadn’t eaten in almost twenty four hours and he felt a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over him. Tolliver sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flickering immediately down to rest on his lover beside him, still bandaged, and still - was he still..?

“How...how are you feeling?” he asked tentatively, looking terrified at the answer.

If only they were; Hitch still wished they were at home. His dislike for hospitals had been aggravated by his state, yeah, but that didn’t mean he ever enjoyed them. In this case, it couldn’t really be helped. He would’ve liked to have let his lover believe it for a little longer, though - seeing him tired and bleary-eyed had always endeared him.

“Easy there, tiger, “ he mumbled with another peek from beneath that arm as he watched his lover sit up in a flash and gasp, almost reaching out with his other arm to touch him until he remembered there was a ******** cast on it. Embarrassed, he allowed it to drop back to his side again, useless. “Like s**t, “ and he laughed when he said it, even if it was tiny and shallow, but it was still real. “An’ I really wanna ********’ smoke - I’ll ********’ live though.”

He finally pulled the arm away and squinted against the daylight, but put the same hand on Tolliver’s leg, squeezing his knee. “Did you eat?” Because he never ******** did, not unless Hitch made him, especially when s**t got stressful. Which he assumed this had probably been.

Tolliver didn’t mind the cast, wasn’t even thinking about the cast, because Hitch was awake, and he was talking to him like normal, and he was making teasing remarks, and he was laughing - he was laughing - and he was doing that thing again, that thing where he tried to take care of Tolliver, even though he was lying in a ******** hospital bed -

The tears stupidly came, even though Tolliver had thought he’d cried enough for several years, let alone just this few days. He gave a hiccuping sob, hair swinging forward as he bent his head, one of Tolliver’s hands clenched into a fist on his knee, the other lifting so that he could dig the heel of his hand into his eye, trying to stem the flow.

“Logan,” he choked out. “********. Is it - are you really - ********, you’re really h-here, I was so ******** worried, ******** I’ve missed you so ******** much, Logan, I’m sorry, I’m so glad you’re here - “

He hated the fact that he was sobbing again, but he couldn’t stop it, shoulders trembling, because even if Hitch was angry with him, even if Hitch decided that Tolliver had betrayed him enough to walk away, he was still here and he was still alive.

More than anything, Hitch wanted to just sit up and give his lover a proper ******** hug - a back full of stitches still made that kind of an impossibility, but ******** if a hand on his leg felt like enough either. So, he tried another option; carefully (because even this hurt like a b***h even if he didn’t want to show it), he tugged his top half sideways and shifted, awkwardly half-pulling himself into Tolliver’s lap. Not great, but it’d have to do. “You should really drink somethin’ too, y’know, “ he chided warmly, then cleared his own throat and slid his fingers along the battered flesh, as if that did anything to ******** help.

“Course I’m here. Who else would it be?” He was teasing, of course; he only remembered fragments and couldn’t even imagine what s**t he’d tried to pull. What side of himself he’d been yesterday. It was kind of a scary thought. “I’m right here, right here, ssh… baby, c’mon… “ Soothing him at least felt familiar, right. He deserved it. He really deserved so much more than what Hitch had to offer.

He made a grab for the hand on Tolliver’s knee, trying determinedly, if weakly, to drag it towards his lips for a kiss. “Please babe, no more tears for me - you’ve done enough babe, okay? - please...”

Tolliver was still crying, but Hitch’s gentle, painful maneuver into his lap startled him enough to open his eyes. His first instinct was, of course “D-don’t, Logan - “ but then the words caught in his throat, because he had wanted so badly just to hold his lover, and this was the closest they could get to it. He dragged in a shaking breath and then let it out, just as weakly, and let Hitch pull his hand free. The soft feel of those lips against his fingers made them tremble.

“I missed you,” Tolliver choked out, still swiping at his face. “I was - I thought I might lose you, and I was so ******** terrified, Logan, I just - “

His chest rattled as he tried to catch his breath, and maybe this wasn’t the best place to have this conversation, but he couldn’t help it, the words tumbling out of him, desperate and sad and aching.

“I know - I know you didn’t want to come, I know you hate it here and that you were worried about the money, but I couldn’t - I couldn’t do anything to help you, and I couldn’t just s-sit there and l-let you - I couldn’t, s-so I called the ambulance, and <********> I’m so - I’m so sorry, and t-then I was so ******** scared that they wouldn’t help you, so I t-told them that you were my husband, and I just couldn’t stop being afraid, you were so ******** [i[hurt and just - your b-back and your f-face and you were just so angry about b-being here, but I had to, I had to, and I know you - you might h-hate me, and I’m so, so sorry, but I just - “

He bit back the half-strangled sob rising, Tolliver’s hand over his mouth. “I couldn’t let you die,” he whispered, throat throbbing. “I couldn’t lose you.”

i]‘Don’t’ was wholly and utterly ignored, because that was honestly the surest way to get him to do anything he shouldn’t have been - and he knew how he could begin to reach Tolliver and give him some of the comfort that he deserved. That was the least he could have done.

A few times throughout Tolliver’s story, Hitch tried to hush him, wanting to soothe him - but there was no break, because these were the kinds of hysterics that built up over the course of time, and he knew if it’d been at least a day. So eventually he fell silent and just let his lover get it all out, kissing his fingers just as sweetly as gently as he went on. And then, finally - he cut in, squeezing the hand tight as he did, “I knew that. - I mean, minus the husband thing - “

His face burned at the thought, and he wondered why Tolliver had said it; to be able to stay in the room with him? That made the most sense, and in that case, he was glad he did. It wasn’t like Hitch had any other family to come visit him, and he knew at least that Tolliver had stood by him. “I don’t hate you, “ and he paused, expecting more tears, anticipating them. “I know what I did then, an’ I was just… I was stressed out, “ understatement of the century. “But really, I just, uh… I don’t dig hospitals, so… I was makin’ up any excuse I could not to go, an’.... “

He’d try, now, to downplay the money situation; the damage had already been done though. “A-anyway… I’m not mad, an’ you’re not losin’ me, so… don’t worry. You did the right thing for me, so - thanks, babe. - an’ I’m sorry again, too, ” and he looked down, still ashamed that he’d put himself in this position in the first place; only for Tolliver’s sake, not his.

Once Tolliver got started on one of his rambling, panic-induced waterfall of words, it was difficult to stop him. Dimly he was aware of Hitch attempting to quiet him, but he needed to say everything, needed to get it out because it was so important for Hitch to hear what he was saying, to understand that he hadn’t wanted to do it, but that’d he had no choice.

The husband had been slipped in, because, well, it was a thing, but Tolliver had been trying to cover it with the rest of what he was saying. His cheeks warmed, and Hitch -

Hitch didn’t hate him. He didn’t hate him, and Hitch’s pause was on point, because Tolliver gave a choking sob, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. There was a terrible, wonderful sense of relief that coursed through him, warm and beautiful and reassuring, and he could feel the wetness on his cheeks, aggravating his already stinging eyes.

“I never wanted to lose you,” Tolliver whispered, voice raw, and he lowered his shaking hand from his face, rested it in Hitch’s hair and dragged his fingers through the strands. “I was so - I thought - “

He dragged in a breath, closing his eyes briefly and then opening them again.

“We’ll go home soon,” Tolliver said softly, hoarsely. “We’ll go home, and then I’ll take care of you and I’ll - I’ll make sure everything is okay, all right? I’ll be here for you.”

Hitch tilted his head eagerly into the touch, sighing out low and content at those fingers ran through his hair. “You didn’t… and you won’t, “ he assured his lover warmly, “I love you too much babe, okay? - I wouldn’t be anywhere if it wasn’t for you, so please, I - already don’t ********’ deserve how amazing you are, an’ - ”

He was still ********; he knew that. But as long as Tolliver was okay, if he was okay then - “You’ve already done so ********’ much, “ he breathed, “I remember, you - you took care of my jobs an’ s**t too, right? - ******** tell me I didn’t dream that part, “ and he laughed again, rubbing his cheek carefully - the less clawed one - against his lover’s knee.

(Were they going to scar? - and his back? - What the ******** was he going to do with this bill? Where was he going to make up the days he was losing? He was laughing now but inwardly his chest was tight, because he was ******** drowning in it, drowning and there would never be a ******** way to break the surface and he’d just ******** started cutting even and - )

“So… when we got married - were we like, Logan an’ Tolliver Hitchcock, Hitchcock-St. James, St. James-Hitchcock… we ain’t losing Hitchcock cause then I don’t know what the ******** people are gonna call me cause it sure as ******** ain’t goin’ to be James… “ and he really shouldn’t have been talking so much; but it was easier than thinking, then the miserable place his mind really wanted to go, because he’d honestly put Tolliver through more than enough already.

He kept up the motion, threading his fingers through his lover’s hair and wishing he could do so much more than that. He wanted to pull Hitch into his arms and just hold him, he wanted to press kisses across each expanse of skin he could, he wanted to lay his head against that warm chest of his and listen to the heart that beat beneath, reminding him that Hitch was still here, that he was still alive.

Tolliver nodded wordlessly, tears still dampening his cheeks - and then let out a choking sound that was half a laugh of disbelief and half a sob, because <******** ******** ******** Hitch wasn’t supposed to remember that, he was supposed to have just skated over that -

“I, erm…” Tolliver swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “I hadn’t...I hadn’t thought that far ahead..” It was a lie, he had, more than was probably healthy.

But he trailed off, and instead of talking more about it, because it was embarrassing as all hell, Tolliver shifted on the bed. He carefully maneuvered himself back down beside his lover, hopefully without disturbing him too much, until he was face to face. Tolliver’s feet were kind of off the edge, but he didn’t care, because now he could see Hitch’s face more clearly.

His hand lifted and fitted itself very gently against Hitch’s jaw, trying to touch below the bandages, but not worry his bruised neck either.

“When you get better,” said Tolliver gently, biting his lip as his eyes flickered to his lover’s. “When you get better, we’re going to spend an entire weekend, just to ourselves.” And he didn’t mean spending a lot of money, he meant just being together, he meant just staying cuddled up beside each other, warm and safe.

Tolliver’s hand moved to Hitch’s shoulder, traced down his arm in feather light touches.

“I want you in my life for a very long time,” he whispered, eyes glassy. “I intended to show you, as much as I can, how much you mean to me, how much I love you, Logan.”

He slanted his head forward, and it was a little awkward, given their positions, but he managed it anyway, because he needed it, because they both needed it, lips pressing warm and softly against Hitch’s.

All this damage done because he'd tried to do the right thing. To protect his lover from this dangerous ******** city he'd stumbled into. - except he'd done it wrong. People like Thraen, they'd tried to tell him, to warn him. And so what'd he done? Hadn't learned jack s**t, that's what.

It was so utterly, painfully typical of him, really.

Right now though, his lover's fingers in his hair, whispering out a choked answer to his teasing comment, Hitch couldn't help but arch a brow and smile. "You sure? - I mean what's the name on the chart say? I gotta play along, right? So I should probably know what our names are."

The shifting did disturb him, a little - but he tried to play it off as nothing, or else look away, because he was happy with where Tolliver was going and he didn't really want him to feel bad about it or anything. He met his gaze warmly, tilted into his fingers, and licked his chapped lips. "I'd love that, " he breathed out - and not for the first time knew he was going to be disappointing him. There just weren't going to be any weekends off in his future. He wanted to, though. There were so many things he wanted, but...

He wanted to say the same words back - but then Tolliver was kissing him and he was melting into it, and it didn't matter how awkward the angle was or wasn't. He showed him how much he felt the same, his lips dry and cracked yes, but his passion for Tolliver hadn't been the thing the demon woman destroyed.

"I'm sorry, " and he'd said it before, but he could say it clearly now, looking Tolliver in the eyes when he said it, "For not bein' there, ********, I - ... I promise that won't ever, ever happen again babe. Ever. I'm so sorry I left you alone, I..."

He could only imagine what he would've had, had he been in Tolliver's shoes. None of it would've been good. "I mean it, I - Can you forgive me babe?"

He was flustered by this, Tolliver trying to act like he wasn’t, trying to act like he was completely casual with everything (he wasn’t). “It says…” he mumbled awkwardly, and then dropped his voice low, glancing away. “It says Logan Hitchcock St. James, because I told them we just got married a few days ago.”

And that’s why you weren’t on my insurance. That’s why I’m lying my a** off, because I need you to be okay, I dont even know if this will work, but it has to, it needs to.

He was grateful when the subject was changed, so much more grateful when they could see each other face to face. Tolliver was not exactly happy per se, but he was so much less tense with Hitch lucid and capable of speaking, and not in agonizing pain. It would be painful, but it wasn’t the sort of devastating lack-of-medicine pain.

Tolliver’s fingers found Hitch’s hair again, threading through the strands, and he’d tried to shift a little so that Hitch would be more comfortable propped partially on his chest, instead of completely in his lap or side by side. He was sure that everything still hurt, but right now he focused on gently kissing him.

It was terribly inappropriate, considering where they were, and what Hitch had been through, and Tolliver swore that his mind was not entirely focused on intimacy, but they used it as a method of communication, a way to show comfort and warmth and reassurance and love to one another.

Which was why he leaned a little closer, pressing his forehead against his lover’s.

"Logan Hitchcock St. James, " he echoed lowly with a distant, fond smile, flicking his tongue once over his piercing in that familiar way. At least the b***h hadn't taken that from him. Again, small favors. He hadn't even really seen himself, he just... he knew there were gouges on his face. He didn't know how deep. He didn't know how bad. "Sounds nice." Then he blushed, just faintly, clearing his raw throat and flashing Tolliver a more familiar, lopsided grin. "Super fancy."

Hitch wasn't about to complain about the intensity of kisses, especially since he really should have been at home by now - it was really their own fault for keeping him there, and his lips parted for Tolliver’s with only an ounce of hesitation, and that was only because he was sure his breath was brutal as ******** knew how lucky he was to be here at all. He also knew that night wasn't the end of it - and he wondered if maybe he was really over his head with the powered s**t after all. Eurydike was a target. Hitch was not. He was safe at home with his boyfriend, the love of his life. Did the city really need Eurydike? - didn't Tolliver need Hitch more?

Even as he thought it, even as he knew that woman would hunt for him - he wished he could promise himself he wouldn't power up again.

Hitch nuzzled gratefully against him, exhaling slowly. "-How- long until this s**t's done?" And he gave his lover an impressively dejected look. "I don't know babe, forget everything else, that's what's gonna ********' kill me. I might not make it."

The red surprised him, a blush decorating Hitch’s cheeks. Tolliver stared at him, at the scarlet color that leeched its way through his skin until it was so bright it was almost startling. Tolliver’s lips parted, an expression of surprise appearing on his face; surprise, concern, confusion as his gaze swept over the unexpected reaction. And at first he was taken aback by the fact that Hitch was refusing an opportunity for them to shower together, because even if he had offered for medical reasons, and just to help, Hitch turning down - or at least, trying to turn down, trying to divert - an offer to shower together was highly unusual.

But he knew Hitch. Knew how much he took care of Tolliver, knew how little he talked about himself, how little of focus Hitch liked on himself, and the pieces clicked quietly together, not quite forming a whole picture, but at least a part of one.

“Don’t worry, I need to shower as well,” said Tolliver gently, trying to ease his way into an explanation without seeming pushy or patronizing. He absently clicked his tongue, the piercing tapping against his teeth. He wanted to tread lightly, tread carefully, in case Hitch thought he was simply overruling him.

(Like he already had.)

“And you can help me wash my hair,” Tolliver said, with a little smile, lifting his hand to tenderly trail his fingers along his lover’s temple. “And we can be close, right? It’s a win-win situation,” he added, cheeks flushing a little pink, but he still held carefully onto Hitch.

Hitch knew full well what Tolliver was doing. They both did. Comprehension dawned in his eyes, and he watched his lover for a few seconds, something deep and dark sparked in his gaze - and then the color drained from his face, and the smile came easier, because even if he wouldn’t, couldn’t say it, he was grateful. He was so ******** grateful for him.

“Yeah - that sounds good, “ and he leaned in, catching the back of Tolliver’s back with his hand as he kissed him, once - fast, deep, savoring the sensation of the piercing, and just as quickly gone again as he rocked back onto his heels and smirked. “******** we stink, “ and he laughed, trying to alleviate some of the tension he’d created in the first place, and he knew that too.

He reached up to ruffle Tolliver’s hair messily with the same hand, the good one, taking extra pains to push it into his eyes. Just because he ******** could.

He saw the blush slowly ease from Hitch’s cheeks, saw the depths of something darker in his eyes, a shiver running through Tolliver, spindling its way up and down his spine. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, however, because Hitch’s mouth was against his, and Tolliver gave a soft sound of surprise that was muffled into the kiss. And then it was gone too quickly, and he was left standing there, breathless and flushed.

He felt the hand in his hair, and then it was in his face, and Tolliver squeaked, batting at his fingers.

“Stop that,” he said, but it came out partly a laugh, Tolliver swiping his bangs back out of his eyes. He smiled up at Hitch, the tension easing into something a little more playful, and he reached up, sweeping his own fingers through Hitch’s hair. A strong part of him wanted to kiss him again (a very strong part), wanted to do so much more than just kiss, but…

“Let’s go shower,” he said instead, tenderly sliding his hands to meet Hitch’s, lacing their fingers together with his good one and simply resting on top of the cast on the other. He began tugging Hitch forward, toward the bathroom, Tolliver inching backwards. “The nurse gave me some plastic bags we can use to cover your cast.”

Hitch just let him, snickering through the mess of hair in his eyes that the sweep of Tolliver’s hand left, although he quieted a little when his lover took his hands, silently moved that he’d still - that he hadn’t shrunken way from the damage hand. Not that he thought Tolliver would, just, it was a ******** sweet gesture and he was allowed to appreciate it. He let himself be tugged along, and his brow arched at the mention of plastic bags. “Sexy. - also - with all the ******** innovations we’ve made with medicine, right? - how has a waterproof cast not been one of ‘em?” he teased warmly.

Soon enough, they were in the bathroom, and Hitch wasn’t sure if there was more or less dried blood than he expected. Either way, it wouldn’t really matter soon; the shower would be blissfully clear of it either way. His eyes still flashed to Tolliver’s face, trying to gauge a reaction, squeezing his fingers tentatively. “I forget - do I leave the bandage on for the shower and then change it later, or… “ he mumbled, more to himself even if he was actually asking, his brow furrowed; they’d given plenty of discharge instructions, yeah. And he’d tried to pay attention and all, but… he’d been so ******** eager to just go the ******** home.

Either way. He squeezed Tolliver’s hand gently one more time before releasing it, doing the honors by taking the hem of his shirt and tugging upwards for him.

Tolliver pressed a soft kiss and then sighed, snuggling close, just wanting to share the warmth.

“In the meantime,” he murmured contentedly. “I love you. And...thank you, you know. For this.”

Tolliver leaned back. His hands lifted, pressed tenderly and lightly against Hitch’s jaw, part of his cheek, always so careful to mind the scrapes down the sides of his face.

“I really...love you so much,” he said softly, heartbeat slowing into something more normal, less erratic. “I gave you my forever and my always, and I’m so...very grateful that they weren’t cut short, because the thought of living without you, is just...”

He trailed off, taking a shuddering breath.

Hitch's gaze was somber as Tolliver’s fingers traced his cheek, as he said those words to him. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, his eyes dark and visibly, he was struggling with what he wanted to say. His hand slid from Tolliver’s hair to the back of his neck, tugging him gently closer, trying to coax his lover’s chin to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He half-whispered it, and his voice was thick. “I know I said it already, but I - I am, I - “ He wrapped both arms around Tolliver, tight, unrelentingly so, “When it was - “ He hadn’t really talked about it, and he wasn’t even sure this was the right time to. If there ever was a right time for something like this. “When it was - happening, I - all I kept ********’ thinkin’ ‘bout you, how sorry I was, how - how I had to get back to you an’ - “

He loved the feeling of those hands through his hair, his expression adoring as he gazed at Hitch - but while the adoration remained, it shifted into something more anxious, a little more worried. Tolliver allowed himself to be drawn closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of his lover’s neck. His arms had moved from Hitch’s face to slide his arms around him instead, holding him close.

The firm, unyielding embrace made him give a little sharp intake of surprise, but Tolliver’s fingers pressed into Hitch’s shoulders, returning it steadily. He felt the familiar stinging sensation at the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed them shut, a shudder rippling up his spine.

He’d almost lost him. He’d almost <******** lost the one person in his life that meant more to him than anyone else, that he loved more than anything or anyone else in the entire world.

“Come back to me,” Tolliver whispered, his chest tight, and his cheeks were damp now from the tears that always embarrassingly fell in moments like these, in every moment. “Please. You have to always come back to me, and Logan, I will always come back to you, I will always return to you.”

He pressed an absent kiss to his lover’s shoulder, body trembling.

“You are the only thing that matters to me,” Tolliver said softly, and there was a surprising amount of fierceness in his voice, raw and hoarse. “I won’t give you up so easily.”

I was scared, three words he could never bring himself to say out loud in a million years, although the subtle hitch in his breath when his lover spoke such beautiful words to him, so sweetly and tenderly, giving him so much of what he’d never known he needed until Tolliver St. James had happened, the way he tensed and dug his fingers into Tolliver’s back, it all said more than he knew. I was so ********’ scared I was goin’ to break my promise an’ leave you.

Because of course he wasn’t scared for himself, but for Tolliver, for this amazing, wonderful, dedicated man he’d fallen in love with against all odds, the man that’d stayed with him even if it meant putting a rift between Tolliver and his twin, and he hadn’t even resented him for it. What he’d done to him, what he’d almost done to him that night because he’d been so <******** careless --

‘You are the only thing that matters to me.’

He didn’t want to, didn’t feel like he had the right to, but - Hitch choked once, hard, a surge of heat building in his eyes and seeping down his cheeks, the culmination of all the fears and doubts and everything else he was trying to shoulder, unaware of how he’d snapped in the hospital. All he knew was now, and now he was - “You either, “ and his voice was harsh and strained, desperate even, still thinking of what Cinnabar had ******** said, “I won’t ever ********’ give you up, never - an’ I won’t ever not come home to you again, I - I’ll do anythin’, everythin’, I don’t want to ********’ do that to you again.”

The more time he spent with Hitch, the more he fell in love with him, the more Tolliver was starting to realize that there was little he could do to protect him. He was a skinny, slender thing with a gimpy leg and not much else in terms of capability. If something like New Year’s, or something like this night happened again, what on earth could he do to help? He’d stand there stupidly, weakly, unable to do much more than just cry, probably.

Hitch took care of him, and Tolliver had never been able to return the favor, had never been able to do the same things that Hitch had done for him.

He had to figure something out - self defense classes, maybe? - but now was not the time, not when Hitch was clinging to him, not when he was clinging to Hitch. Not when he could feel the way that his lover’s arms tightened around him, the way his breath caught in his throat, the way he was - he was choking, like he was -

Tolliver pulled back, wanting, needing to see Hitch’s face, and he raised his hands again, sweeping gentle thumbs across his cheeks, beneath his eyes. Tolliver’s own face was damp, eyes stinging, but he gave a sharp intake of breath and a tremulous smile touched his lips, filled with a tender adoration that only Logan Hitchcock would ever see in this lifetime.

“Whether it’s this apartment, or somewhere else, or just - even a cardboard box on the ground - “ he hiccuped a little sob, half a laugh. “I will always return to you, Logan, you belong to me and I belong to you, and that’s - that’s what matters. You and I will always find each other, no matter what happens, we will always come home to each other.”

His hands slipped from his lover’s face, down to rest against the back of his neck, and Tolliver leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss to his lips, gentle and sweet and filled with every bit of tender affection that he had for this man. Fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, tangling in the strands briefly, Tolliver’s eyes fluttering.

“I love you,” he breathed out against Hitch’s mouth, a little hoarse. “I will always love you, Logan.”

If only Tolliver knew half of what he did for Hitch - he would have denied needing a protector, however much he’d hoped for a glorious second that it was Tolliver, not Fritz, hiding beneath that knight’s garb. Protection wasn’t what he wanted or needed. No, it was things like this - the gentle swiping of thumbs under his eyes, met with tears of his own instead of pity or annoyance, the subtle reassurance that it wasn’t stupid or wrong or girly to get worked up over it. He was still embarrassed, he didn’t think he’d ever be okay with being ******** emotional, but… at the same time, it was a clear sign that Tolliver didn’t think less of him for it. That even if Hitch wasn’t okay with being emotional, if he had to be, with Tolliver was the safe place to do it.

That no matter what, he’d never - he’d never not matter to someone again, and more and more, Hitch liked to think he could believe it. He felt it when his lover kissed him, in the way he looked at him, in his soft, sincere words. Tolliver was and would remain a lasting staple, something to rely on and take solace in, and the fact that this was such a novel concept to him said more about Logan Hitchcock than he’d ever want to say. “I love you too, “ he whispered back, pressing their foreheads lightly together, mirroring Tolliver’s gesture at the nape of his neck with his good hand. “I always will babe, I - thanks, Tolli, baby, “ and his kiss was chaste, but no less affectionate, no less needy, because he would never not need Tolliver. He was so grateful to him, for everything, so ******** grateful and --

“Will you, uh, “ the moment wasn’t broken, but he knew they had to shower, and Hitch knew himself enough to know he was getting tired; if Tolliver had just let him be he probably could’ve just dozed off right there, tucked in his lover’s arms. “Take this… thing off me?” ‘This thing’ being the bandage on his back, sweaty and itchy.

(But hey; at least Hitch actually asked, right?)

Always was not a concept that Tolliver was too familiar with, unless it was in reference to himself, especially after his accident. He was always going to walk with a limp, he was always going to be pathetically incapable of handling things - and it was usually paired with never; he would never be able to do the same things as other people, he would never be able to be “normal” with this attraction to men. But for the first time, it was not a negative. He would always love Hitch, and he would never not adore him as much as he did, would never stop trying to make him happy.

Tolliver eased out a ragged breath, trying to focus on the moment at hand. He simply smiled, less tremulously this time, and gave a little nod, fingers dancing along his temple.

His movements were careful, extremely so. Tolliver eased the bandages off with great concentration, biting his lip the entire time as he peeled them off, one by one. The scars left behind were jagged and long, a shiver of sadness and pain briefly running through him as he took in the stitches to hold them together.

Tolliver bent his head, pressed a single, chaste kiss to the side of Hitch’s back, just away from the scrapes, hands resting on his lover’s hips from behind. They trembled, just a little, but he wasn’t going to back down now.

He knew Tolliver was being as gentle as he possibly could have been, and it was a relief to get the bandages off for awhile. Like scratching an itch, almost. (Speaking of, he idly scratched at his cheek with a subtle grunt). But all the gentleness and relief in the world didn’t mean it was painless. Hitch just knew better than to show it, deliberately keeping his face as neutral as possible, although his eyes reflected his pain even if the rest of him didn’t, sweat trickling slowly down his brow.

Still. The kiss on his shoulder, his lover’s trembling hands on him… Hitch sighed, longing more than he thought to just lean back on him and call it a day. “How bad are they?” and it was the first time he’d asked; it wasn’t as though he could really see it for himself, right? “I’m still sexy as ********, right?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood again, his hand sliding down to press over one of those hands on hips.

He knew it would be an uncomfortable and painful process, regardless of how careful he was, and Tolliver hated that fact - but he still made the effort anyway, biting his lip the entire time.

A part of him wanted to answer that they were just fine, but he’d promised to be honest, to not sugarcoat. Tolliver’s fingers slid along his lover’s side soothingly. “They’re...they’re not terrible,” he said falteringly, and winced. “But they’re not...great, either,” he added in a soft, helpless voice. He tried to stay calm, tried to keep his emotions in check for Hitch’s sake. “You’ll - it’ll be all right.”

He felt Hitch’s hand over his, and Tolliver was painstakingly careful in standing there with him, chest tightening at each small movement.

“There,” he said softly, and keeping his hands on Hitch’s hips, he slid around to stand in front of him instead, a little shy smile on his lips, even if his eyes were still overly bright. “We did it.”

We, not you because he didn’t want to sound patronizing or condescending. Tolliver brushed his lips tenderly against his lover’s temple. “And yes,” he answered quietly, briefly sliding his arms around Hitch’s waist and interlacing his fingers at the small of his back. “You are still sexy as ********> Logan.”

It was said with a sort of half teasing tone, but Tolliver was absolutely serious. Even with all of his inevitable scars, Hitch was still the most ******** attractive person that Tolliver could even hope to see, his eyes tracing the line of his lover’s jaw adoringly, sweeping up his face, resting on each aspect of him that he could.

“Heart,” he murmured tenderly, briefly nuzzling his nose against Hitch’s, eyes fluttering. “I still wish I could just...feel this way I do with you all the time.”

His lips skimmed over Hitch’s, very light, very brief.

“But I suppose that’s what makes it special, knowing I get to be with you as much as I do.”

The first time Hitch had ever done that to him - idly undone the top button of his shirt - Tolliver had been sitting in his lap for the first time, had been full of a similar anxiety, even if the reasons were different. At the time, it had startled him, made him nervous, made him wanting - and there were times when Hitch had taken off his clothes after where it still did, at least in the latter. But this time, all it did was soothe Tolliver, made him feel warm and adored and loved. It was such a simple gesture, but it was a wonderful, meaningful one, even if Hitch didn’t think so. He wanted to keep those fingers against his collarbone, his neck and chest, reminding him that his lover was there.

His heartbeat quickened a little. Tolliver sucked in a sharp breath, trying to steady himself, trying to remind himself that this was Hitch - this was Logan, his lover, his life. He was here, and he loved him.

The words came eventually, hesitant and stuttered, and sometimes there were long gaps in between as he struggled to figure out what to say, but they were still coming, regardless.

“About two years ago,” A generalization, he remembered every second of that day, every detail, more than he ever wanted to. “ - I was - I was living with Fritz still, we had moved here about two years prior to that. I...I hadn’t done much, I was just...living at home with him. We drew a webcomic together, you know, we...well, I don’t know if we still do, but he would do the art, and I would…I would do the dialogue.”

Tolliver’s gaze had risen to the ceiling, unfocused as he immersed himself into his own thoughts.

“He was - is - always so charming, you know, he knows how to - how to talk to people, how to be with them. I never - I could never do what he does, but he just...does it so easily, so naturally, while I flounder, and I always just - I just wanted to be like him. N-not in every respect,” he added quickly, glancing down at Hitch. “Just...just some.”

Tolliver looked skyward again, eyes steadily becoming as unfocused as before.

“That morning, I...Fritz was working on something, I don’t remember what - “ No. I remember everything. “ - but I was - I was trying to figure out what to do with myself, and he was just so bloody confident and I was so green with envy, I just…I wanted to be a better person, I couldn’t figure out why someone like me existed when there were people like Fritz, who looks exactly like me. Why were there - why were there two of us when there only really needed to be one?”

The words were coming out a little faster now, Tolliver lost within the memories that he’d never spoken aloud, dragged into the depths of them. He’d lost sight of the room, of Hitch, of everything but that one singular day, frozen in time.

“I just - I went for a drive, I wasn’t - I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to get away for a bit, you know, c-clear my head, try and breathe, and I took - I took my bike out, and Fritz wasn’t even paying attention, he was doing something on his own. I thought he wouldn’t notice if I left, and he didn’t, so I just, I wanted to ride, so I got on and I just - I drove.”

(He can hear the familiar revving of the engine, can feel the body of the motorcycle vibrating with life against his legs, can smell the scent of gasoline in his nose. He’s not like Fritz in many ways, but on this bike, he is Tolliver, because Fritz can’t ride, but Tolliver can. This is what he can do that his brother can’t, he can prove himself, he can - )

His voice was hoarse now, growing more ragged.

“I drove, and I just - I wasn’t - I wasn’t paying attention, I turned a corner too sharply - and I’d - I’d had a few drinks before I left - “

Tolliver’s pitch had reached almost hysterical in tone, his entire body beginning to tremble, his face paling more and more with each word as a bead of sweat slid down his face and pooled in his collarbone. Everything was coming out now, memories jumbling together in rapidfire motion, fast and cluttered and messy and -

“I - I didn’t mean to, but - but that car was there, and he just - it ran into me, because I’d - “

Because I had run a light. Because I’d been drinking. Because I’d been speeding.

Because the entire accident was my fault in the first place.

(It happens in a second.

One second, he’s there on his bike, rounding a corner. Two, he doesn’t even really see the car barrelling his way, only a brief flash of headlights and the distant, watery sound of a car horn. Then Tolliver is airborne - he remembers this, at least, only briefly - and for split second he wonders if he’s going to die. And then he lands, then he scrapes across the pavement with shrieking agony tearing up his left side, but it’s nothing compared to the feel of his leg catching fire. He can still smell the oil, can still feel the burning flames against his thigh, searing straight through his jeans to the tender skin beneath, and he’s screaming so loudly he can’t even hear himself, shrieking and gasping and begging for relief, desperate for someone, anyone to stop the pain, just please ******** stop the pain, he can’t take it anymore, he’s going to die, he’s going to - )

Tolliver’s voice was ragged, barely audible now. His hands had completely stilled against his lover, eyes focusing on some point skyward with no real target in mind.

“Third degree burns on my leg, mostly on my thigh, from the fire, three and a half weeks in the ICU and three more weeks recovering in the main hospital, but I - “ A sharp intake of breath, his body beginning to shake again, and Tolliver was clearly on the verge of a panic attack, hardly able to catch his breath now.

“But I was the one,” he whispered, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, a ragged, agonized half sob escaping. “I was the one who - who caused the accident in the first place, I did it to - to myself, and I ******** deserved it, the girl - the girl I hit, she can’t draw anymore, she lost - she lost her hand because of me, they had to amputate, and it’s all my ******** fault, it’s - the whole thing is my fault, it was always my fault, I did that to her, I took that away from her and I made her life a living hell, and I just - I couldn’t ever handle that, it was all me, people kept - kept telling Mum and Dad and Fritz oh, poor Tolliver, how frightened he must be and poor Tolliver, he must be struggling so hard, but they didn’t know, they couldn’t see - "

Hitch wondered, not for the first time, about that web comic and how long it had been going on - if Tolliver actually still worked on it that night they’d been together for the first time. If it had suffered now because Hitch had entered the picture and caused a rift between them. That mattered less than the story, but he knew when Tolliver began explaining the story with details about Fritz that his feelings of being lesser than his twin had to factor into this somehow.

He was right. Hitch’s fingers curled again at Tolliver’s collarbone and he shifted a little, fiddling with another button until it came undone, flashing him an understanding look for all the good it did as his lover continued talking. Tolliver made it a point to tell him it’d been nothing deliberate, and Hitch believed him - just like he hadn’t deliberately started fights, like he hadn’t deliberately missed meals, like he hadn’t deliberately strode across some roads without looking, like he - no, he couldn’t project onto Tolliver like that. Maybe they were a lot alike, but that didn’t mean he --

A bike. He hadn’t known that Tolliver had a motorcycle, and he felt stupid for taking a moment of such a serious, important story to try and imagine it. His boyfriend confidently straddled a motorcycle with a helmet tucked under his arm. As he knew him now, it was hard to picture. (He would’ve liked to have seen it.)

He knew where the story was going before the words left his lover’s mouth, honestly - and all through it he continued to soothe him, to shift and press kisses to his collarbone, reaching out to grab his lover’s hand from where it rested on his hip, just trying to be there for him, to - god that look on his face. As though he was still there, trapped in the wreckage. It was horrifying, heart breaking, and Hitch almost regretted ever asking since the memory was clearly painfully fresh and bitter even two years later.

But why; why did he think this would make Hitch hate him? This was - yeah, Tolliver had been careless, but he could understand and -

There it was. The big bomb, the thing that Tolliver thought was going to change the way he saw him, make Hitch hate him. Somehow, it made his chest ache - because this was how guilty Tolliver felt over it. This was part of why he felt so shitty about himself, why he was so hard on himself, why -

“Tolliver, “ he broke in with a harsh breath, taking his casted hand to prop himself up so he was hovering over his lover, straining, but determined, his good hand cupping his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m so sorry baby, I’m - I can’t even imagine that, I - ********, I can’t - but you didn’t ********’ do it on purpose babe, you didn’t - “ It would be unfair to him to say it wasn’t his fault; that would completely disregard his feelings, his role, his pain, but - “It doesn’t mean you didn’t suffer, it doesn’t mean - babe, “ and all he could do was kiss him, because his gestures always meant more than his words and -<******** I don’t hate you. I don’t pity you. I just ********’ love you an’ I can’t believe you’ve had to ********’ live with something like that. Oh god babe. Oh god I wish I could ********’ take it away.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of Hitch’s hand, gentle and soft, against his chest. Aware that another button had come undone, aware that Hitch’s lips were pressing reassuring kisses against his collarbone, aware that one of Hitch’s hands hand found his, fingers tangling together. Somewhere, he was dimly aware of all of this.

But he was also lost, completely, in the memories.

Drowning in them could have been a far more accurate term. He was beneath the waves, submerged entirely in the feelings of them, and it was like he was back on that bike all over again, back lying half broken and burnt and dead on the black tar pavement beneath him. Even after all this time, he could still feel it as though it was yesterday, the flames licking up his body until he’d had the foresight to roll over and even then it hadn’t muffled them entirely, hadn’t stopped the pain that had drowned out every other sense in his mind. But he hadn’t lost his leg, in spite of the burns.

Not like the girl. Not like Arabella, because that had been her name, he later learned, that had been the victim of his stupid recklessness, the one who had been a painter, like Fritz.

The tears were coming fast and thick down his face, and he couldn’t stop them, couldn’t stop the trembling of his hands, and somehow they’d moved to Hitch’s shoulders, wedged between their two bodies, braced against them. Tolliver’s breath was coming out in short, gasping, half-strangled sobs that indicated he was having difficulties controlling what was actually getting into his lungs.

“They said,” he whispered, an almost frantic sound. “They said - that she w-was - that she’d been g-gifted, that she was as good as the old artists, that she could have g-gone on to do amazing things, but I - I took that away from her, I s-stopped her, I k-killed her dream and h-her spirit, and I can still d-do tings but she can’t, I took it away, I took her life away - “

He felt Hitch move, shift, hands sliding against Hitch’s chest, and Tolliver heard as though through a fog the words, rumbling through his lover. He tried to grasp at them, tried to hold onto him, but he couldn’t; they slipped away, into shadows, into the flames that ate away at him, Tolliver letting out a low moan of agony, squeezing his eyes shut, a ragged sob escaping.

Lips pressed against his, warm and familiar through the haze of it all, and Tolliver kissed back automatically, a whimper muffled into it. His fingers curled against Hitch’s chest, desperation coiling hot and painful through his veins, but he didn’t know what he was desperate for. Absolution? Redemption? For it all to have been just a bad dream after all? To go back in time and just stay inside, to not go out, to not get on that bike?

All of it. He was desperate for all of it.

“I took everything from her,” Tolliver whispered, barely audible, and his eyes were still shut, as though he couldn’t bear to look at Hitch and see what expression was on his face, his own cheeks burning with shame. “I took everything from her, I don’t - I don’t deserve this, any of this.”

I don’t deserve you.

What could he say? - what would Tolliver think if Hitch said to him it wasn’t his fault? No. No, even if Hitch didn’t think - who had told him about the girl? An irrational surge of rage flooded through him at the thought, even if he didn’t have the right to be mad over something like that, even if it’d been in a time before Hitch had ever entered the picture.

It broke his heart - it killed him to see Tolliver like this, and the ache was deeper in his chest than any of the physical pain that’d come from Cinnabar’s claws. Sadness always gave way more easily to anger, but in this case, there was nowhere for it to go. It just wasn’t his time, his place, but it was still there, a ragged breath escaping him as he shifted, grunting a little at the muted pain, trying to ignore it all together as he sat up and tried to tug his lover with him, to tuck him into his arms where it was safe and secure and maybe he could come back to this, to him - not back to the accident, back to that night and that road and that girl that haunted him.

“It was an accident Tolliver.” That was the best he could offer, but he offered it with all the passion he had, wanting desperately for his lover to know just how much he believed it. “It’s ******** an’ terrible an’ - yeah, but - that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be happy or - look at me goddamnit, “ and even though he was cursing, he sounded less angry and more frantic, because sometimes when Tolliver got stuck in his own head - he never faulted him, no, but it ******** scared him.

Nothing scared him more than when he thought Tolliver wasn’t there with him anymore, trapped somewhere else and far away and scary and he couldn’t do jack s**t to help him. And this time he’d put him there by asking about this, asking about the accident and the girl.

He hadn’t even seen her, hadn’t been able to face her in the first place. A part of Tolliver had wanted to apologize to her, even though it was useless, had wanted to tell Arabella that he hadn’t meant to, that he’d been upset, but how empty the words sounded, even just inside of his head. How meaningless it was to say sorry when sorry wouldn’t bring her hand back, wouldn’t bring her future back, wouldn’t take away what he had done to her.

He felt a tug and a shift of the couch, and then Hitch was tugging at him, and Tolliver, eyes still closed, followed blindly up, sliding, and his leg gave a twinge, as though reminding him of what he had done and what he still did not deserve. He didn’t deserve those arms around him, didn’t deserve those lips against his own, did not deserve to hear that I love you coming from the one person he so desperately wanted to hear it from. And he’d thought he’d put it all behind him at last, but he hadn’t, he hadn’t moved forward at all, hadn’t really done more than bury it and pretend that it never existed.

And now it all came back, full force, sinking heavily into his thoughts until there was nothing left.

Tolliver was still trembling, not even trying to bite back the sobs that wracked his body - but through the haze and the agony, he heard the desperate note to Hitch’s voice, the ragged plea, and it was like a tiny crack in the blackness that surrounded him; a soft and gentle thing contrary to the stabbing pain.

He forced his eyes open, lashes heavy, and looked at him, and a shiver ran down his spine.

“Logan,” Tolliver whispered, a weak sound, voice almost childlike and shaking as he stared at him. “I didn’t - I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t - I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean to take it all away from her, I d-didn’t mean to, p-please, don’t - don’t hate me, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry - “

Hitch sighed again, the sound catching in his throat like it choked him; the sight of his lover like this, looking at him with such a broken look in his eyes, speaking in a voice that only half sounded like his own, it’d stay with him later. This moment, this Tolliver, he would play out before his eyes a million times tonight after his lover had fallen asleep. It killed him, because he ******** understood. He could put himself in his lover’s shoes and imagine, even if he couldn’t really, because he’d never be in Tolliver’s position. But that kind of guilt, that suffocating agony, that - he’d never really understand, not first hand, but -

“I know you didn’t, “ he choked out, trying to keep his own emotions in check, half-succeeding as his eyes shone and he planted a hand warmly on his lover’s cheek, wiping under his eyes with a swipe of his thumb. “Of course I ********’ know you didn’t mean to, I’d - Tolli, of course I ********’ believe you, I - I know you, I know you didn’t, I - I told you before, I’d never hate you.” He wasn’t exasperated, he wasn’t angry, he was just - desperately sad for him, for this beautiful man he loved from the bottom of his ******** heart.

“You don’t have to apologize to me for nothin’, not a goddamn thing, “ he went on, his casted arm wrapped tightly around him, willing to him stay, stay here with him in the now and - and to understand - “You gave me my life, “ he spat out, forcing the words even though they made his throat ache with the effort - physical and emotional. “I wasn’t really livin’ before you, an’ - an’ - when I came back like - you fought me, you forced me to get help, an’ - I love you, an’ nothin’ is ever gonna - you don’t have to apologize for a goddamn thing Tolliver, so please.”

He met his eyes, implored him to understand, to see what he’d done for Logan and to know that he knew it wasn’t - Tolliver was a good ******** - a great ******** - an amazing ******** person. He knew that. He knew if anyone didn’t deserve anyone, it was - but this wasn’t the time. It wasn’t, and Tolliver deserved him, okay? Deserved him and better and everything.

Speaking it - actually saying the words out loud - was different than just holding it inside of him. Inside, he could pretend that maybe it didn’t exist, that if he didn’t think about it, then it wasn’t there. But saying it made it real, made it alive, a reality he couldn’t look away from, and maybe this was the problem all along. He’d tried so hard to act like everything had disappeared when it hadn’t, not really. It had settled itself inside of his heart, growing stronger and more entwined in darkness until it was all he knew.

Tolliver’s eyes fluttered at the hand on his cheek, gaze still slightly wild and unfocused, lost in his memories and his desperate longing to be loved, to not be hated. But steadily, through little ministrations, and little gestures, he was starting to rise out of that haze, trying to clean away the dredges of sadness and pain.

Hitch could not take the pain away, could not lift his burden - but he could make it easier to bear, could help carry some of the weight, and Tolliver didn’t want to have to make him do it, but he couldn’t stand to be on his own anymore, lost in sorrow and despair.

A hiccup escaped, and then Tolliver was leaning forward, burying his face against his lover’s neck and sobbing, harder and more painfully than he had ever let himself cry before, because he hadn’t ever after the accident, not really. These were the kind of gasping, ragged, hiccuping sobs of someone who had long since held them in, and Tolliver’s arms had found their way around his lover, holding so tightly it was probably painful, but he couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop holding on.

He simply let himself cry, clinging to Logan.

It did hurt. His fingers were digging into his back just the right way not to disturb the stitches, but enough to ache. His ribs, too, ached. Hitch was aware of it, and he embraced it the same way he did Tolliver then, keeping him tucked in his arms as he gently rocked him the way he did sometimes, fingers tracing soothing circles across his lover’s back. This pain was okay - it was okay because no, he couldn’t take his lover’s pain away. The most he could do was stew in it with him, understand that pain and him and know that it was a part of him.

It was a burden he would’ve gladly taken a hundred times over for Tolliver’s sake. One he was glad to shoulder, however much it hurt to see - more feel than see, those tears hot against his sore neck - his lover in such unbridled agony over something that had been a mistake. But a life-altering one.

“You’re so strong, baby.”

And he meant it, because it’d been two years and here he was breaking now in Hitch’s embrace; he kissed his lover’s hair, tightening his embrace even more than it already was. “You don’t know it, but you are - you’re so strong, “ and he only really half knew what he was saying, no matter how true it was. He just wanted to keep talking, to keep Tolliver there - “I love you baby, I love you so much, I - I - “ he trailed off, and for now, settled for just holding him, letting Tolliver cry and finally getting it out like he so desperately needed to.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, arms wrapped around his lover, Tolliver’s face buried against his neck. The words dripped into him like hot wax, melting against his soul, and even if he didn’t know it, even if he didn’t believe it, he believed that Hitch believed it, and right now that was good enough. Hitch hadn’t pussyfooted around his confession, hadn’t tried to sugarcoat it like his parents had, hadn’t tried to tell him it wasn’t your fault, because it was his fault. He’d simply accepted it and understood the pain and now he was just holding onto Tolliver like he couldn’t bear to let him go.

It was a while before he was lucid again, before he had cried all of the tears that seemed humanly possible to cry. Tolliver was a hiccuping, tear-streaked mess by the time they finally seemed to ebb away, trailing into softer, more muted sobs that dissolved into little sighs. And while the pain was still there, the agony still in his chest, he felt a strange sense of...relief? perhaps?

His grip loosened around Hitch, Tolliver becoming more aware of just how tightly he was holding on. Horrified that he’d probably caused him pain, he slid his hands to rest on his lover’s hips instead, some of the light coming back into Tolliver’s hazy gaze. He lifted his head, forced himself to look at HItch, to really look at him.

A hand lifted, and trembling fingers trailed their way down the side of Logan’s face, ghosting over the marks left behind on his cheek. They swept over his brow in slow movements, then down his jaw, tracing the firm line of it. Across his lips, pressing lightly to feel the warmth of them, touching the piercing with his pinky. Memorizing his lover’s features as though only seeing them for the first time, each touch tremulous and almost reverent.

“Maybe…” he said, and his voice was raw, breath catching in his throat. He tried to find the right words, Tolliver hiccuping another dry sob.

“Can I be happy now?” he whispered, a quiet pain giving away to one tiny fragment of hope. “Am - can I - “

Has it been enough? Am I allowed to be happy? Am I allowed to move forward?

Can I truly let myself have this one thing and realize that I deserve happiness too..?

Hitch never let him go. Not when the sobs began to subside, not when his hands slipped down to his hips instead - instead he just watched, captivated, as he looked at Tolliver and saw him beginning to, however slowly, come back to himself. Come back from the past he’d locked himself into and back to him in the present, where he belonged, the place Tolliver needed to be, the place Hitch needed him to be.

Those fingers traced a familiar, but new, trail, and Logan would honestly never understand why his lover adored his face as much as he did. He felt humbled, undeserving of the way that Tolliver looked at him, especially now - as though he were some glorious thing. But he also wouldn’t have traded it for anything, wouldn’t have ever shrank away from those fingers, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment, pressing a familiar little kiss to Tolliver’s fingers as they swept across his lips - the same as he had every time before, but it felt more important this time. Heavier, somehow.

Then, his lover began to speak, and Hitch opened his eyes to look at him again - and the sight of Tolliver took his breath away, a low, choking sound resonating from his throat as he reached up to again cup his lover’s cheek. The question was so achingly simple, and the fact that Tolliver felt like he had to ask at all just broke him - he wondered how long, how often in their relationship his lover had asked himself the same question, trapped in his own head with no one to answer. How long he must have struggled with this weight, this -

“Yes, “ and he leaned in to kiss him once, almost chastely, and his eyes burned as he eased back, meeting Tolliver’s gaze and repeating again, “Yes, yes you can - you can be happy - yes, “ and Hitch kissed him again, softly, but lingering now, trying to feed him scraps of the passion he felt for him, trying to warm him and bring him the rest of the way back and let him know it was really okay. This was really okay.