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 Posted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 12:07 pm
( backdated )
“You should ride again.”
The comment had originally caught him off guard; coming from Fritz, it had seemed almost offhand, casually tossed into a parting conversation as he’d been dropping Tolliver back off at the apartment. And Tolliver had stared at him for what seemed like ages, eyes wide, lips parted, trying to figure out if his brother was joking or not. When it was determined that he wasn’t, he’d made some sort of excuse about how he had to go, and darted off as quickly (slowly) as possible.
And then he’d thought about it, not just for hours, but for days, until it was the only thing in his head, until the rush of the wind and the feel of the bike against his thighs was burning into his mind. Tolliver had tried not to even consider riding again, not after what had happened but -
-but it had been so long. And it was like a physical part of him was missing, like a large part of his life had simply been cut out, chopped away, and had never been replaced or filled with something else. It wasn’t like Tolliver hadn’t considered, briefly, what it would be like to get back on the bike again, but the fear clawed at his throat, thick and cloying.
No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get back on, not after what had happened.
The thoughts were pushed away, hidden, locked up, just like his heart, just like his bike.
What Tolliver, however, was unaware of, was the extra element that was now back in his life - namely his brother Fritz, who, unknown to Tolliver, had sent Hitch a message several days after his conversation with his brother. A reluctant message, a slightly disgruntled one, but at the same time, not a bad one.
Text from Fritz to Hitch: Tolliver won’t tell you, but he still has his bike. It’s in storage underneath the apartment complex I live in.
Text from Fritz to Hitch: He’s too afraid to ride again, but I think he needs to, so if you can get him to get back on again, you should try.
Text from Fritz to Hitch: That was not a euphemism, by the way.
Text from Fritz to Hitch: I hate you both.
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Hitch’s iPhone, sadly, had not returned from the grave - so for now he’d settled on a cheap little thing, one of those relics of a phone with a slide-out keyboard with buttons entirely too small for his thick fingers. It was zebra striped with pink, and probably meant for a girl, honestly - but it was cheap and temporary and ******** everyone it was the least expensive s**t they had okay.
The abomination vibrated in his pocket (and he never left the sound on because the text tone was some fairy twinkling noise and he hadn’t figured out how to change it yet; technology would never be his strong suit), and he fished it out, carefully reading Fritz’s texts one after the other. A smile blossomed on his face, and he bit back a laugh, glancing over at his lover - fiance, soon to be husband, and Fritz was really going to hate them soon - with his nose buried in a book.
Text from Hitch to Fritz: ur face is a euphenism thx lite brite xoxoxo
He slid the phone shut again - and with all the tact that was Logan Hitchcock, because he didn’t ******** do subtle, he sighed and remarked almost casually, “Y’know - it’s too bad, I mean - I know how s**t ended, but - man I would’ve liked to see you - ********, nevermind, “ and he cut himself off deliberately, rolling onto his stomach on the bed and crossing his arms under his chin, glancing up at Tolliver through his bangs. “I don’t wanna make you feel awkward or nothin’.”
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The reply from Fritz was just one this time:
Text from Fritz to Hitch: Now I really hate you.
Tolliver, however, was curled up on his side beside Hitch, reading a book that had something to do with fantasy, and hadn’t even heard Hitch’s phone buzz (which he thought was kind of cute, actually). He did, however, hear the sound of his lover’s voice, and it managed to drag him out of his inner thoughts and the pages of the story, Tolliver blinking back into reality.
His brows furrowed as he frowned.
“See me what?” Tolliver asked, peering at Hitch over the top of his book.
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Hitch took advantage - full advantage - of his physical advantage and shifted, dragging himself over his fiance’s legs, resting his arms on his thighs now to peer up at him, still. He bit his lower lip, chewed it lightly in a considering way, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it or not.
Really, he did. Really, he’d thought this before. Really, it was just a matter of tact. It was less a matter of wanting to say it or not and more a matter of was it okay to say it.
“I wish I could’ve seen you ride. Even just once.” He smiled warmly up at Tolliver, fondness and adoration etched across his face like an open book. “I mean I know what - but I would’ve really loved to have seen you like that. The look you got in your eyes when you talked about it, y’know?”
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He almost dropped the book at the shifting, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Tolliver lowered it down so that he could caress gentle fingers along Hitch’s shoulder, smiling at his fiance with unabashed love on his face -
-but the smile faltered, just a little, at what he said, his heart pounding in his chest. Panic welled high, then coasted lower, Tolliver suppressing it as much as he could, trying to keep his face absolutely, completely calm. A little laugh escaped, slightly forced, Tolliver wiggling down a little so that he could be more face to face with his lover.
“You’ve already seen me ride,” he murmured, blushing furiously, but he was trying to distract him, trying to shift the subject. Tolliver pressed a gentle kiss to Hitch’s temple.
“A few times, now.”
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His stomach dropped a little at that faltered smile. But Hitch had to know that was coming, he reminded himself with a slow intake of breath, willing his own gentle smile not to falter.
He took advantage of Tolliver’s newfound closeness to tilt his head up, catching his lover’s lips in a quick kiss, reaching out to catch one of his hands and press a kiss to the back. “You know what I mean, “ he murmured, toying with his fiance’s fingers, one at a time. “I mean don’t get me wrong, you’re a ********’ expert rider.”
Shooting his lover a sultry glance, he looked down again as the hand he was holding. “I just wish I could’ve seen you - in your element, I guess.”
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He hummed into the kiss, Tolliver leaning into it, a hand against his lover’s chest. His other was soon caught, making him smile, happy butterflies overtaking some of the anxious ones that were currently fluttering in his stomach. Tolliver’s cheeks were pink at his own boldness, his own attempts at distraction, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a little hot all over at the compliment.
But Hitch wasn’t about to be deterred. That stubbornness of his that ran through him, Tolliver knew it all-too-well, his chest tightening, fingers curling instinctively in his lover’s hand.
“That’s...it doesn’t matter now,” he mumbled, turning his head away and swallowing hard. “It’s…”
“It can’t happen again, so I just - I can’t ride again, anyway, so there’s not much point in dwelling on it.”
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Hitch held his hand tighter, a small, worried frown coming in where his smile had once been. “Tolli, baby, “ and his words were soft, if unyielding. No, he didn’t want to push him too hard, of ******** course not - but sometimes Tolliver just needed pushing, and that was a fact. He just ******** hated upsetting his boyfriend, but - “Are you sayin’ it can’t happen ‘cause there’s no bike, or ‘cause you think you can’t?”
He bought the hand towards his lips and pressed them warmly to the back of it, pressing it then against his cheek as he looked at his fiance, his everything. “Like you thought you couldn’t dance?” And it felt sort of cheap to use that, but Hitch stood by it; it was the closest thing he had to the motorcycle situation in his repertoire, after all. “‘Cause I know one of those two things ain’t true. I know you still got the bike - don’t you even think of it?” Again, he wasn’t asking to be accusatory or ******** preachy or whatever, just - he was just asking, even if he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
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He couldn’t have forgotten about the sensations of riding even if he’d wanted to. They were always there, in the back of his mind, reminding him forcefully of what he’d had and what he’d lost. The pure joy and ecstasy of being on his bike had been incomparable to anything else; he could lose himself in how it felt, in how he thrived on that sense of freedom and flight.
And now that was gone. He couldn’t get it back.
Hitch, though. Hitch could always read him like a book, heat suffusing Tolliver’s face. It was a succinct and accurate observation, a question Tolliver wasn’t even sure he wanted to answer, because he knew, deep down, that Hitch was probably right. And he didn’t want to admit that he was still utterly terrified to get back on.
He could feel the warmth of Hitch’s cheek, and it made his lashes flutter, eased a little bit of the tension. Had he told Hitch he still had his bike? Probably, at some point in their early chats, he’d said something, Hitch did tend to have the memory of an elephant, always recalling things that Tolliver didn’t even remember saying.
“...yes…” he whispered after a moment, voice hoarse, thick with emotion. “Yes, I think about it. I - “
His voice cracked, splintered at the edges. Tolliver swallowed hard.
“I d-don’t know if I can.”
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Hitch hated that he still had a cast - not much longer, they were almost healed, they promised it could come off soon - but it was the best thing he had as he reached out, the roughness of the plaster against his lover’s cheek as he caressed the soft skin gently with his fingers. Nothing much, just a tiny reassurance, the best and possibly only thing he could really do for Tolliver and just hope it made a difference. There might come a day when it wouldn’t - no, there had been moments already where nothing could reach his fiance, but this was different, this was not that and -
“I think you can.”
The smile was back then, gentle and reassuring, easily reaching his eyes. He tilted his head a little, brushing his lips against Tolliver’s pinky. “If that makes - any kind of ********’ difference I mean, I - I know you can. An’ it’s okay if you’re scared, ********, I get it, but - ” He shrugged his shoulders almost idly, as if he was about to say something light. He wasn’t.
“I just - I know you can do anythin’, when you try. I believe in you, ********’ lame as that sounds, but - I do, y’know.”
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I think you can.
It was the first time someone had even suggested getting back on the bike. Fritz had tried, in a roundabout way, but had stopped when his efforts were met with anger and a lack of speaking. Tolliver had closed himself off to everything to do with his motorcycle, to everything that had been a reminder of what he’d done to that poor girl. Even his parents had, quietly and not-so-subtly, suggested that maybe he consider trying other hobbies, okay love?
He’d tried. For a while, he’d tried, throwing himself into whatever else he could to distract him from the loss of his bike. Deejaying had proved to be a welcome and surprising relief from the mess inside of his head, but even then it was just a job. A fun job that he enjoyed very much, but it had never brought him the same feelings as riding did.
Nothing did.
But Hitch was here, telling him that he knew he could do it. That he believed in him, and a surge of hot emotion welled up inside of Tolliver, clogging his throat. He blinked rapidly, quiet for several minutes while he tried to process everything, tried not to let the despair and fear overtake him the way it had for years.
He drew in a ragged breath, dampness at his eyes.
“D-do you...really think so?” Tolliver asked, his voice very small, trying so desperately to hold back the tiny pinprick of hope that was starting to blossom in chest. “It’s - it’s been years, I don’t - I don’t know - “
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Hitch knew he needed time, and he gave it to him. The familiar little knot of doubt twisted and churned away in the wake of the silence that fell over them, but he was trying - trying - to get over his long-seated fear of silences and what dangers they could bring. Too many times silences led to whispers behind his back and then onto drama, backstabbing, teasing. Tolliver hadn’t been any of those things, this was just how he worked, and Hitch knew that. But knowing something did not so easily break the habit, and he still had to will himself into calmness.
Sometimes it was frustrating. He wished he was a better person than that - he wished a lot of things about himself. But this wasn’t about that, and he was anything but frustrated now, swiping his thumb warmly under Tolliver’s damp eye when he spoke again.
“I know so, “ he breathed enthusiastically, in the most reassuring way he knew how. “Doesn’t matter how long it’s been. When you love somethin’ like you love that, it doesn’t just go away.” He nuzzled warmly against the hand pressed to his face, a spark of something almost playful in his eyes. “Maybe you can take me for a ride. Show me what you love.”
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Silences were hard. Tolliver didn’t normally do well with them either, unless he was the one doing it in the first place. But sometimes he needed the quiet in order to sort through his mind, to clear it and make sure that he wasn’t just reacting on instinct, or because of emotion - which was almost always the case, considering.
He hated crying. He hated that he was such a ******** weeper all the time. But Hitch took it all in stride, thumb under his eye, Tolliver choking a little as he stroked his fingers adoringly over his fiance’s cheek. Every part of him was practically screaming to get back on the bike - but actually doing something was so much harder than simply saying you were going to do it. Even if he wanted to get back on, the fear was still there - fear of what he’d done, what he’d caused. Fear of losing what he already had. Fear that he’d forgotten how to ride in the past two years.
Somehow the thought of taking Hitch along bolstered him. Tolliver gave a little nod, eyes watery, his fingers trembling against the side of Hitch’s face.
“W-will - “And he couldn’t believe he was saying this, after so many years of being terrified of the one thing he wanted most in this world that was not Logan Hitchcock. But Hitch had already made the offer, an offer that Tolliver had been going to extend before it was offered in the first place.
“Will you -” He tried to steady himself, easing out a breath. “- come with me t-to see? My - my bike?”
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Hitch loved him for it - loved Tolliver for the intensely passionate, emotional way his heart beat in his chest and brought him to tears so readily. It warmed his heart every time he saw them because he knew Tolliver didn’t just up and start crying in front of anyone; it was people like him, people that mattered, and Hitch mattered. Not to mention he was beautiful when he cried, but that was a whole other time.
(Never mind how annoyed Hitch at himself whenever he started getting emotional. Again; there was nothing endearing about that.)
At that, Hitch flashed his lover a toothy smile, clutching his hand a little tighter between his hand and his cheek. “That’s not the right question, “ he murmured warmly, and pulled his other hand hesitantly from Tolliver’s cheek to pull himself a little closer up his body, enough so he could lean over and be inches from his face now. His eyes skimmed over his lover’s features up close - the curls of his lashes and the patterns of his freckles - and he kissed him once, and the contact was short lived but no less warm. “This right question is, when are we goin’ to see it, huh?”
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Truth be told, he was terrified. The thought of getting back on his bike was utterly, horribly frightening to him, waves of panic ebbing over his stomach and chest at the mere thought of it. But with the fear and panic also came hope, and a strong, burning longing that he hadn’t let himself feel for almost two years now. They combatted and contrasted sharply with one another, but Hitch was here, and he was warm and reassuring and so very, very loving, and it just made him all the more emotional.
His fingers brushed over the warm skin of his lover’s face, still shaking, but now Hitch was looking at him with those kind eyes of his, lips gentle against his own. Tolliver inhaled sharply, tears gathered on his lashes, but he couldn’t even put into words just how much he appreciated Logan Hitchcock, how he needed and loved that support he gave.
He took a deep, steadying, shaking breath.
“T...today?” he said, the answer surprising even himself, but something told him that if he didn’t go now, if he put it off, it would be harder and harder to go back. It was already difficult - he’d put it off for two years, after all - but he couldn’t put it off any more.
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The answer did surprise Hitch, he couldn’t and wouldn’t lie - but it was a good kind of surprise, and his shamelessly broad smile did little to disguise his relief and delight to hear Tolliver utter those words. Relief, because he knew Tolliver needed this - it was one thing for Hitch to say he could do anything, but it was another for his lover to be able to test his limits and see it for himself, what he was capable of.
He tilted his face as shamelessly as ever into his fiance’s touch; because as much as Tolliver needed him, his reassurances and his smiles, Hitch needed him too. Each touch was like a breath of air in his ******** lungs, and that was no exaggeration. “Today, “ he echoed with determination, with finality, meeting Tolliver’s gaze and giving a brief tip of his head in approval. And then, one final question with punctuated by another squeeze of his lover’s fingers, to eliminate any residual doubt: “Now?”
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That smile would be the death of him one day. It was just so blindingly bright and beautiful that for a moment, it took Tolliver’s breath away. He stared at him with his heart beating hard in his chest, at this wonderful, amazing, incredible man that he’d get to marry. Logan Hitchcock was going to be his husband, and Tolliver still thought, somewhere, that he didn’t deserve him, but right now he was just overwhelmingly grateful to him.
He gave a little nod of his head, mouth dry. “N...now,” Tolliver said, but they couldn’t leave quite yet. Not until he did one more thing, something he hadn’t done in a long, long time.
“Um,” he said, and drew in a sharp breath. “Just...lemme - lemme get ready first, and then...and then we can go..?”
Carefully, leaning to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his lover’s lips, Toliver eased himself away and stood up, a little unsteadily. His legs felt like jello, but that was most likely due to the nerves that wracked him, shivering up and down his spine. Tolliver took a moment to steady himself and then padded over to the closet. There was a bin in here that he’d stuck in, buried behind the coats, and he pulled it out now, biting his lip for a moment as he looked at it. Normally he would have just changed in front of Hitch, but this was different, for a variety of reasons, so Tolliver awkwardly tugged the bin over to the bathroom.
“Be - be right back,” he said, giving Hitch a slightly watery smile before he shut the door.
The bin was set in the shower, because that was the only way he could fit it into the room with him. Tolliver stared down at it, his heart beating very fast, and reached out a hand, smoothing it over the lid. His fingers shook, and then he was prying it off, fast, because it was like ripping off a bandaid, he just needed to get it done and over with.
The achingly familiar scent of leather and cotton met his nose, all of Tolliver’s riding clothes folded neatly and tucked away. He drew a sharp, trembling breath, blinking rapidly to dispel some of the heat that stung at the corners of his eyes as he looked. He let his fingers drift over the cool fabric, almost reverently, and it had been so, so long.
The jacket lay on top, his pride and joy. Tolliver had toned down some of his clothing, not just for Hitch, but for Fritz - and himself -as well, had muted the desire to wear what he had before the accident, because he was afraid of going back to it, afraid of what it would mean, of what he would remember.
He hadn’t been wearing the jacket when he’d crashed. He’d been too frustrated and angry to grab it, and he remembered being halfway down the stairs before he’d remembered, and even then he’d been annoyed at himself for forgetting it. That irritation had been compounded by the alcohol in his veins, and he’d just said ******** it and kept going, jamming his helmet on with anger as he’d climbed onto the bike.
And now - was it bad - to feel grateful that it had survived? That it didn’t have to be thrown away, like the rest of the clothes from that afternoon, bloodied and torn and half melted, burned away? Was it stupid to feel a horrible sense of relief at having this one small thing still? The bike had survived well enough - Fritz had actually gotten it fixed after the accident, trying to be helpful, but Tolliver hadn’t even seen it since lying on the pavement in utter agony, his leg scorching, the sound of sirens ringing in his ears.
He drew the jacket up, pressed it against his nose, and inhaled deeply. His cheeks were wet; Tolliver didn’t even remember starting to cry, but he was now, his chest so tight it was painful.
Slowly, taking his time (Hitch would understand, after he saw him), Tolliver eased out of his clothes and began to dress, sorting through the bin for what he thought would be a good first-day-riding outfit. It took him a while; his emotions were so high it was hard to breathe sometimes, but he wanted to do this, needed to do this.
And eventually the bathroom door opened again, quiet and unassuming. A gloved hand could be seen at first, resting on the doorframe, and then Tolliver was stepping out, his eyes a little red, but not crying, the expression on his face a mixture of anxiousness and fear, his heart clattering noisily against his chest. It was similar to how he’d felt when he’d first walked out in his negligee, but on a different emotional level, something much more close to his heart.
He didn’t say anything, just stood there, one hand still on the doorframe, the other at his side, Tolliver biting his lip as he looked at Hitch.
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Hitch just smiled and nodded in his best reassuring way, watching as Tolliver fished out the bin in a sort of muted wonder - he’d wondered, when his lover had brought it in, what was inside. He was pretty sure he’d even cracked a joke about it being a body, come to think of it. Or something about how the skeletons in Tolliver’s closet were built for easy transport. Something ridiculous like that.
Now, given the gravity with which his fiance tugged the bin out and looked at it that way, Hitch wished he hadn’t. He wished he could go right back into time and slap himself before he made any stupid jokes about it. Not like he’d known, but he felt like he should have.
With Tolliver gone, after he’d flashed him one last smile, Hitch fished out his phone and shot Fritz another text:
To Fritz: just so u kno were comin ovur soon for the bike thnx again gonna make us tea an crumpets or what
Satisfied, he clicked send and got himself ready, too - just simple things, small things done one after the other to fill in the time Tolliver was taking since he wasn’t sure how long it’d be. Like he tied his hair back, thinking that if they were going to go for a ride he probably should - he’d still been in boxers, so he switched to jeans. He fidgeted with his picture frames, flipped through some of the bills, even put some of the dried dishes away in the rickety old cabinets. He glanced back at the bathroom every so often, pursing his lips and worrying for his boyfriend, because he’d always worry - even if Hitch knew this would be good for him, he just - worried sometimes, when he couldn’t be there standing at Tolliver’s side. Which he would be today, Hitch knew that too, just - he just worried okay?
Then, finally, the bathroom door opened and Tolliver re-emerged - and whatever Hitch had been expecting, his boyfriend decked out in tight leather was not it. Visibly, his jaw dropped, and a surge of unexpected heat flooded between his legs as he looked his fiance over from head to toe, stepping closer as he took in every inch of it - of him.
“Tolliver. ********’. St. James, “ he murmured, reaching out to glide his fingers appreciatively along one of his sleeves, awe and a kind of heat Tolliver knew very well by now burning away in his eyes. He whistled once between his teeth, and his hand dropped, palm on the curve of Tolliver’s a** and fingers splayed in every direction as he arched a brow at his lover. “You ********- you been holdin’ out on me babe.”
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(The reply from Fritz was short and succinct:
Text to Hitch: No.)
The clothes still fit, even after two years. Tolliver hadn’t gained any weight; if anything, he’d lost some over the course of time, during his fits of not eating at all or eating food that couldn’t even be considered food. He had several riding outfits, built for sitting low on the bike, made for a lack of wind resistance - but also for protection and ease of movement. The pants sat low on his hips, the white shirt beneath thin, but clinging, fingerless gloves for holding onto the handles - and of course his prized jacket. It felt like an old friend on his shoulders, against his skin, the familiar warmth and solidness of it doing wonders to help ease Tolliver into a less anxious state, even if he had been afraid to put it on in the first place.
The look on Hitch’s face made heat flood Tolliver’s face - and other parts of his body as well. He stood there, frozen in place as his lover walked towards him, and jerked a little out of habit at the hand on his sleeve, the low voice ebbing towards him.
A little squeak escaped when Hitch’s hand slid to his backside, Tolliver stumbling forward, arms bent against Hitch’s chest. He blushed furiously, averting his eyes - the intensity of that gaze was almost overwhelming.
“I - these are my...my riding clothes,” he stammered, face crimson, fingers curled against Hitch’s chest as he looked down at himself. “I haven’t - I haven’t worn them in a while, they still kind of...fit right, I think, I’m not sure anymore, I mean, I wanted to, but I just haven’t had a chance to, so I’m not sure if they’re - they’re still okay - “
He was rambling, as usual, anxiety stretching his voice thin.
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(The text back from Hitch was about as straightforward, before Tolliver had emerged:
To Fritz: stingy a** lite-brite geezer <3 c u soon)
Hitch knew his lover was tense; just looking at him was enough to tell him that. Still, there was tense, and then there was flinching away from him, something that made his lips press in a thin line for a few fleeting seconds with concern. But he knew it was nothing personal, and he refused, no matter how much his internal demons wanted to leap on the chance, to let it bring him down.
With Tolliver against him, he slid his arms almost greedily around his lover, tracing his hands up and down his leather-clad back, then hooked both index fingers into the belt loops of his pants. He listened for a time as Tolliver went on and on and on in his own way, and Hitch couldn’t help smiling fondly down at him. He brought his good hand up, and wordlessly, just cupped his fiance’s chin and tilted it upwards, drawing him in for a kiss as his fingertips massaged gently at the edge of his jaw.
When he eased back, his easy, lopsided smile was every bit as warm and inviting as it’d ever been. “Easy there, tiger. You look great. ********, if we didn’t have somewhere to be - ” Dark brown eyes skimmed up and down his body once, and the subtle hunger there really said it all.
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The hands smoothing up and down his back helped to ease his anxieties, just a little, as did the fingers in his belt loops, though it made him blush even more than he already was. Tolliver was in the middle of stammering out something - probably something that didn’t even make sense - but the words were soon muffled by Hitch’s lips on his, and his eyes fell half lidded and then shut entirely, Tolliver leaning into it, into that warmth.
His flush was high on his cheeks at that smile and the insinuation. Tolliver squirmed a little, then leaned forward and this time he was the one who initiated another kiss, soft and sweet, but also one of gratitude. Even if he wasn’t intending to, he was succeeding in distracting Tolliver from his anxiety, some of the tension easing from his shoulders.
“M-maybe later,” he said, which obviously meant definitely later. A small smile touched Tolliver’s lips.
“I love you,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
His hand rose to cup Hitch’s cheek in his leather-clad palm, thumb smoothing across his skin.
“Let’s...let’s go.”
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He loved it when Tolliver leaned on him - in every ******** sense, physical and not. Hitch was so - he was so s**t at so many things, but he knew this was something he could do right, most of the ******** time anyway, just be here for him and hold him and try and be strong for him. That’s why Eurydike existed, right? So even if Tolliver didn’t know it, there was someone else he could depend on in this ******** twisted a** city.
Hitch hummed gratefully into the kiss, feeling some of the tension easing away, and that’s all he could’ve asked for. Although at the ‘maybe later’, no joke, for all he was thinking about how much he wanted to be there for Tolliver and all, he looked distinctly like a ******** kid in a candy store, or a dog that’d been promised a ******** bone.
“I love you too, babe, “ and he didn’t hesitate to say it back, greedily tilting his head into that leather-clad touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second, a sigh escaping him that was nothing short of adoring in the most primal way. “Lead the way, beautiful.”
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Posted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 12:10 pm
He couldn’t help but find that expression on Hitch’s face to be utterly endearing, even if Tolliver was blushing about it. Lowering his hand, he pressed one last kiss to his fiance’s lips and then reached for Hitch’s, threading their fingers together. It was still not all right - he hadn’t even seen the bike, but for now, he was at least stable.
Taking his cane would have been pointless, so he left it behind. The walk to Fritz’s loft wasn’t very long, and he’d be all right to make it, neither one of them probably wanting to take a cab. Tolliver held on very tightly to his lover’s fingers as the building came closer and closer, his other hand wrapped around the arm that he was currently holding already, Tolliver leaning against Hitch as he limped along, for once entirely oblivious to anyone who might have looked at them strangely. Anxiety coiled in his stomach like a snake ready to strike, and his heart was beating so fast it was almost painful.
It felt like no time at all until they were walking in the familiar front doors and stepping into the familiar elevator. But instead of going up, they were going down, to the basement, where the storage units were located behind padlocked gates. It was an incredibly spacious place with plenty of room to move around in, a set of five garage doors on one side for anyone who wanted to park their car in the area as well (two were occupied, the other three empty).
And there it was - or at least, there it was going to be. Tolliver could see the storage area for Unit 317 just ahead, a few boxes and bins stacked along one side of the area - and right in the middle, covered with a soft brown cloth and a tarp, was unmistakably his bike.
He felt like his chest was going to drop straight into his chest as he slowed his steps, stopping right in front of the gate. Tolliver’s breath had quickened, and he reluctantly let go of Hitch, fumbling with the keys to try and find the right one.
His hands were shaking too much; there were only four keys on his ring - one for Hitch’s apartment, one for Fritz’s loft, one for Fritz’s car - and the last for this padlock right here. But he couldn’t make his fingers work properly, and the keys fell to the paved floor, jangling noisily, making him ******** - s**t - “
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It was a stupid, irrelevant thing to think right now, and maybe a little selfish, but Hitch actually loved the way they were walking - fingers laced together and Tolliver’s arm in his. For once, he didn’t give less of a s**t who was looking, didn’t even notice if they were. In his own mind, he imagined doing this some other day maybe, just walking in the ******** park like this, or even just the store, or anywhere. Just so long as they got to do it like this. Silence hung over them for the duration of the walk, but it was okay - this time, there was no need for words.
Still, Hitch couldn’t help but look around the place with a hint of awe, wondering not for the first time just how much the St. James family was actually worth - not like it exactly mattered to him, just - he just wondered what kind of money it took to live like this. If their parents had helped, or if Fritz’s art was really that big of a thing, or just how successful their webcomic had actually been. (He thought, also not for the first time, that he really wished he had a way to find that comic and read it for himself.)
He knew they had to be close by the way Tolliver’s steps slowed, and Hitch moved to match him, squeezing his lover’s hand once more before he allowed it to slip away, although he stayed close. Good thing he did; he flinched a little when the keys dropped and his fiance jumped like that. Without missing a beat he bent down, scooped the keys up into his hand, and stood again, placing them back in Tolliver’s hand and closing both of his hands around it.
“I’m here, “ he reminded him simply, softly, before his hands fell away again, one moving to rest against his back, palm flat against the cool fabric of his jacket.
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Tolliver had never really said just how much the St. James estate was worth, especially because he didn’t even really know himself. But his parents lived in a luxurious place in Leavesden still, and the loft had been prepaid for more than enough time for them to live there comfortably. He knew how it made him look - ignorant and pampered - but it just was what it was. And he would have gladly given what he did have to Hitch, but he knew that he wouldn’t take it, especially since Tolliver had left behind a lot when he’d moved out. Chances were, when his parents found out, he’d be cut off anyway, he was just prolonging the inevitable by keeping it from him.
Now, though, money was the farthest thing from his mind. He stood there, staring at the covering over his bike and wondering what it was like underneath, if it still looked the same, if Fritz had gotten it fixed like he’d said he had. He started to stoop to pick up the keys, but Hitch got there first, and Tolliver drew in a shaking breath as they were pressed back into his hands.
I’m here.
Such a simple, soft reminder, but it had the desired effect. Tolliver turned his head, just a little, to give Hitch a small, watery smile, the feel of that hand on his back needed as he fumbled to put the key into the lock. He twisted, it, heard the click, and then struggled to pull the padlock away, tucking it into one of the pockets on his jacket. The door was pulled open next, creaking on his hinges, and then there was nothing between him and the bike except the coverings.
He took a breath, feeling faint. For a second it seemed like his legs refused to move, Tolliver frozen in place; but then he forced himself forward, took a step, and stretched out a trembling hand.
In one hard, swift yank, he pulled the covering off, hard enough that it snapped in the air, dust cascading around them.
And there it was.
It looked the same. There were no scrapes on its side, no flat tires, no twisted, burnt plastic. It stood there, just as he remembered it from before the accident, gleaming black and silver, the glossy letters that stamped out Kawasaki prominent on its side. The perfect size, the perfect fit for him, his pride and joy and it was right here in front of him.
His throat seemed to have gone dry, words failing him completely, a choking sound the only thing that Tolliver was able to do, fingers clenching around the covers he still held.
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Hitch never once thought Tolliver was ignorant or pampered; after all, wherever he’d come from, Tolliver had been one of the only people who hadn’t ever looked at him with an ounce of pity in his eyes, only raw empathy and understanding. He was curious for curiosity's sake, and Tolliver was right of course, completely right in assuming that Hitch wouldn’t have taken a damn cent even if he’d offered - and it was a damn good thing he didn’t, that he had enough foresight to know that was the last thing Logan Hitchcock would have ever wanted.
His hand stayed with Tolliver until he moved forward, and although he stayed close, his presence there to reassure, this was something his fiance had to do. Any part beyond support that Hitch played in this moment, this unveiling, would take away from his lover’s moment, from his healing, and he couldn’t ******** have that.
The moment played out fast, but later Hitch would remember every detail, from the look on Tolliver’s face to the snap of his wrist and the dust fluttering in the air. And there it was, the bike, this precious thing in his lover’s life that he was only now seeing for the first time. Now, now he felt it was safe to move forward, placing one hand on each of Tolliver’s shoulders and he tilted his head to murmur into his ear, “It’s beautiful, “ and it was. All sleek lines and black, shining there as if it were new, as if it had never seen the life-altering accident that his lover had spoken of so vividly.
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He was frozen to the spot, eyes wide as he stared at the bike in front of him. It was still there - it still existed, it was okay, it wasn’t broken or ruined or lying in a junk heap somewhere. It was sleek and beautiful and incredible, right here, and it smelled of metal and the faintest hint of gasoline, not burnt plastic or flames or smoke.
The hands on his shoulder made him suck in a sharp breath of air, like he’d been drowning and had just now reached the surface. Tolliver shuddered, a tremor racing through him, and his eyes fluttered, his head tilting back automatically towards him.
A hand lifted - he found Hitch’s on his shoulder and awkwardly he maneuvered it down, his movements almost instinctive as Tolliver dragged Hitch’s arm around his waist and stepped once backward, his back against his lover’s chest. He gave a choking sob, breath stuttering, fingers clutching Hitch’s like a lifeline.
“It’s - it’s still here - “ he managed to get out, and the fear hadn’t been abated, but seeing the bike in one piece made his heart lighter, in a way he hadn’t thought it ever could ******** - it’s - it’s still - it’s okay - “
It was stupid to cry over such a material thing, but he couldn’t stop it.
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They knew each other well enough for Hitch to be able to move the way Tolliver needed him to, with no amount of resistance. His fingers curled against his lover when he positioned Hitch’s arm around his waist, and he nuzzled his lover’s shoulder warmly, shifting up then so he could press his lips into Tolliver’s hair. All little things, all meant to soothe, but -
Seeing Tolliver like that, seeing him so happy, so relieved, it moved Hitch. It really did. “It’s more than okay, from where I’m standin’, “ he murmured, squeezing his hip deliberately now, his other thumb working soothing circles into the one shoulder it lingered on. He didn’t fault Tolliver for crying, ******** no. It was different, totally different, but he could sort of understand because - it wasn’t like he didn’t have any material thing that meant a lot to him. His drums, like always, came to mind. That was his release, his comfort. This was Tolliver’s. Of course it’d mean a lot to him.
“How long did you ride?” he thought to ask for the first time, squeezing him a little, tugging him closer still. “Before everythin’, I mean? - y’never told me.”
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He curled into Hitch automatically, needing that warmth and that touch of his, to feel the solidness of his chest against his back. There were very few things in Tolliver’s life that were just steady and constant, and Hitch loving him - Hitch being there for him was one of them, the most important one out of them all, save for Fritz - and even then, Fritz couldn’t give him what Hitch could, as much as he loved his brother.
A choking half sob, half laugh was pulled from his throat. His fingers held fast and tight to Hitch’s on his hip, and he could feel those warm lips in his hair. When he was tugged closer, he didn’t resist, inching back and nuzzling into the embrace.
His bike was here and it was still standing and it was beautiful.
His voice trembled when he spoke, but it wasn’t a shy whisper, Tolliver swallowing hard.
“Since I was sixteen,” he said softly, a little raggedly. “My - mum told me that I could either learn to ride a horse or a bike, and I chose the bike. Fritz chose the horse, but I never was interested in animals, not really, so I - so I wanted to see about the bike. My dad was thrilled, he always wanted...wanted a manly son, and he thought this would - well…”
He trailed off, flushing, because he was not manly, not in the slightest. With his penchant towards negligees and painting his nails and keeping his hair longer than usual, he was anything but manly, though he’d kept all of this from his parents, for obvious reasons.
“I loved it, though,” Tolliver whispered, still staring at the motorcycle. “It was...the most incredible feeling I’ve ever had, riding it. I felt - I felt like I was flying at times, and I know it’s silly, I just...”
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Of course Fritz chose the horse, Hitch thought to himself with an unseen roll of his eyes. That was a mental image he didn’t need.
He squeezed his lover’s shoulder and nuzzled into his hair a little again at the mention of manly; didn’t he know what that was like. Tolliver didn’t talk a lot about his parents and what they expected of him, what they wanted versus what he was, but he got hints, glimpses. Not enough to paint a whole picture, no, but - at least in this case, he’d gotten something good out of it, something he loved, something that mattered.
“Stop sayin’ things that matter to you are silly, “ he scolded him gently, squeezing those fingers interlocked with his. “I don’t think it’s silly babe. I don’t think a damn thing about this is silly, so… so what do you wanna do?”
Was he ready to try it?
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He sank back into Hitch's embrace, face flushed a little.
"Sorry," Tolliver mumbled, but he knew what his lover meant, knew he was trying to make it easier for him. "Force of habit. Fritz, you know, he's - he's a good guy, and I love him, but he would always tease me about stuff like this. Not - not meanly, just..."
He didn't understand. It was the disconnect, in spite of them being twins. Fritz's mind was different than his, less emotional, more logical. His decisions and views on things were much more suited towards rationality and observations, while Tolliver led by his heart, his instincts. Neither was a wrong method - they were both important in their own way - but it meant that they didn't always see eye to eye on solutions to problems or how to handle everyday life.
He drew in a shuddering breath. The bike gleamed in front of him, beautiful and so achingly familiar that it almost hurt just looking at it. He couldn't even count how many times he'd climbed over the side, settling himself into the leather seat, Tolliver bent low over the front the way he was supposed to. As much as he was terrified of getting back on, it was all still there inside of his head, all ingrained within his mind. He couldn't have forgotten even if he'd tried, even if it has been years and the last time he'd ended up on the black tar of the highway, covered in blood and flames.
He could still remember the smell -
Tolliver gave a minute shake of his head, as though to clear it. He drew Hitch's hand up to his lips and pressed a shaking kiss to his fingers, to the inside of his wrist, lips lingering against the pulse that beat below for just a little bit before he let go. With some reluctance, fear still dredging his chest, Tolliver eased himself out of the warm circle of his lover's arms and took a step towards the bike.
It was slow - the motorcycle was only a few feet in front of him, and yet it felt like a mile, felt like two miles. Trembling from head to foot, Tolliver moved steadily forward, stretching out a shaking hand, until at last his fingers touched cool metal beneath them. A ragged gasp escaped, half choked, and he remembered this, remembered the feel of this bike, the way his fingers curled automatically around the handle, flitting over the dash, skimming over the seat. It was all so painfully real, so wonderful -
- his right hand closed tightly around the far handle, left at the nearest, and then, with a grace and an elegance that could only have stemmed with years of passion and dedication and love for what he did, and unlike anything he'd ever shown before, Tolliver swung his leg up over the bike and eased onto it, settling down into the seat.
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“You don’t gotta apologize either, silly, “ Hitch chuffed warmly into his ear, nudging his nose lightly against the shell. No, he didn’t recoil and bristle when it came to how Fritz treated Tolliver like he would’ve before he’d talked to him a little more, before Fritz had broken down in front of him that night - even if he still remembered how unhappy he’d been the first time he’d met him, hearing how his boyfriend’s twin spoke to him. That they functioned on different levels was obvious, especially for someone like Hitch who’d seen them both suffering in their own ways to get past Tolliver’s accident. However.
“ - just he’s an a**, “ it wouldn’t stop Hitch from making comments like that with a hint of a cheeky smile on his face, lending some levity to what was undeniably a very serious, profound moment. Anything to ease some of the tension off his fiance.
Hitch hummed pleasantly at the kiss to his wrist, and his fingers squeezed his fiance’s shoulder once more as he pulled away - he made no effort to hold him back, and he never would. Yes. You can do it. He, too, sucked in a sharp breath when his lover gasped, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides, wanting to do more but knowing that this was - again - Tolliver’s moment. It was his choice, his passion, his chance to shine.
And he did. Hitch felt his breath leave him in a quiet gasp as his lover swung himself onto the bike with a kind of poise he never could have imagined. All he could do in that moment was stare, his breath literally stolen away as he saw his fiance there in his element for the first time. It was so different, so new, but it looked so right. Tolliver, in all his leather and lanky limbs, looked like he belonged there.
“No wonder you said it’s like flyin’, “ he said quietly when he finally found his words again, a slow smile blossoming on his face, arms crossed over his chest. “You move like a bird.” He wasn’t saying that to tease him; there was nothing but awed adoration in his voice.
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He knew Fritz and Hitch's relationship was awkward and rocky at best - but the fact that they were both trying, in spite of the awkward, meant the world to Tolliver. It made the difference in how he felt when he woke up in the morning, not completely laden down with despair, even if the anxiety would never truly leave him.
The bike felt completely and utterly normal under him. Tolliver took a minute to just remember the feel of it, to settle warm and secure against the cool metal and leather. His gloved hands slid from place to place, marveling, wondering, staring in unabashed awe and reverence at his beautiful bike, and the fear, which had gripped him for so, so long, seemed to just slowly ebb away. How could he have been afraid of this? It wasn't like he didn't know what he'd done, or that everything was just fine and dandy and perfect. He could never take back what he'd ******** up, his leg and that girl's amputated arm a constant, ever present reminder of that. But Tolliver had spent so long beneath the heavy weight of his guilt and shame that he'd forgotten how to simply breathe again. He'd asked already, how much time was too much time, how much was not enough? Had he really truly spent enough time atoning for the screw ups he'd caused, the life he'd ruined? Or was it lives, because certainly he'd ******** up his own, several times over.
But this bike - restored to its glorious previous form, felt like a metaphor. Once scraped and bent and broken, now it was beautiful and ready and alive again, even if it wasn't perfect, even if Tolliver could feel the little nicks in the metal, the chips in the paint where it couldn't be erased or glossed over, because he knew every inch of this bike.
It wasn't perfect, but neither was he.
He turned his head to look at Hitch, and there was a scarlet flush to his cheeks - but not, for once, of embarrassment at the compliment. Instead, a bright, all encompassing smile spread across his face, one where the joy within could hardly be contained, seeming to burst at the edges with its radiance. And Tolliver himself was utterly breathless with an excitement that seemed to build and build inside of his stomach, overtaking the fear and the anxiety.
His fingers tightened around the handles.
"Wanna go for a ride, handsome?"
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Watching his lover there, his hands traveling over the surface of his bike, exploring it for the first time in years, Hitch was transfixed. There was something happening here, something important, and he got to be a part of it, got to witness all of this first hand and see the change as it crept over his lover like the crawling sun throughout the day. He was glad, although he didn’t know if he’d ever get to say it, didn’t know if he wanted to, that Fritz had told him about this. That he’d tried to coerce him into doing something about it. This was good for Tolliver, Fritz knew that, and he’d given Hitch an advantage that he never would have had alone.
In his own head, at least, he was grateful. Grateful to stupid Fritz. Grateful that he had the chance to do something right by his lover. Grateful, when Tolliver turned to him with that unabashedly delighted smile on his face, every inch of him radiating joy and excitement, for that single moment. For Tolliver himself, more than anything, he was grateful.
Tolliver looked beautiful. Stunning. Breath-taking. And in his own head, Hitch filed that look on his face away to remember, to call upon at will whenever he was in a bad place.
Hitch smiled back in his lopsided way, edging closer to the bike now, hardly daring to touch it - it felt ******** sacred by now - as he leaned in to kiss his lover on the temple. “You know it babe.”
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He'd done that before, only once - to Hitch, running his hands over the planes of his body and simply being in awe of his mere existence. And the reverence he has held then was almost the same as it was now, fingers gliding over glossy black and silver, even if it wasn't on the same level.
Tolliver could scarcely contain the excitement now, a thrill racing through his veins. The kiss to his temple made his eyes flicker to his lover, Tolliver resisting the urge to just grab him and kiss him senseless, exuberant in his glee at being back.
"Climb on behind me," he said breathlessly, leaning to look on either side of the bike - and sure enough, there were his helmets tucked away just beside it, nestled into a box. Tolliver stretched to grab them, tugging them free and sending more dust into the air. There were two - one that was for competitions, black and electric blue with his last name emblazoned on the side - and one that was for fun, for practice, just plain black.
He straightened and handed Hitch the practice one, taking the other for himself. Tolliver fitted it over his head - it smelled a little musty from disuse, but otherwise it was wonderfully familiar. When it was secure, he took a deep breath and grasped at the handles, his nerves fraying.
"Ready?"
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The way Tolliver did that had always fascinated him - and now, looking at that, understanding this side of him a little more, it made sense. It made Hitch feel a little more humble than before, really, to think he might be anywhere near that level in Tolliver’s world.
Climb on behind him - Hitch’s movements weren’t exactly clumsy, because unless he was drop-dead drunk or in pain or something like that, he tended to carry himself much more smoothly than he gave himself credit for (especially when things got sensual). This, however. He’d never been in a bike before, and so there was something unmistakably fresh and awkward about the way he carefully threw his leg over the bike, remembering the reverence with which Tolliver had gazed at it moments before, the way energy buzzed and spiked off his now, contagious and new.
But he did it. He slid in behind Tolliver and slid a hand over his back before he claimed the helmet; something else new, and he made sure to look at Tolliver before he put his on, fully decked out with his helmet and leather and bike and just - he was so glad. He was so glad they’d come and that he got to see this side of him, his heart warming and filling with his fiance, his everything, and the fact that he got to continue healing.
With a small grunt he tugged the helmet onto his head, adjusting it, and then slipping his arms around Tolliver’s waist, savoring the familiar warm of his body pressed against his own, but also new, new for the bike that lay beneath them and the leather he wore. “Ready, “ and Tolliver’s excitement must’ve been a little contagious, because Hitch sounded excited too.
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He waited patiently for Hitch to climb on, even though internally he was practically vibrating with a need to move. It had started in his stomach and was now climbing up into his chest, threatening to overtake him, covering every single nerve in jittery excitement, and he wasn’t trembling anymore, at least not from fear or anxiety, only from adrenaline -
And then Hitch was ready, arms secure across his waist, and the garage door was open -
The ignition was switched on, kill switch flicked off, and the bike was roaring to life in the most familiar way, and ******** he had missed that sound so much, the rumble of the bike easing up his legs and into his entire body. It was almost deafening in the enclosed space, but Tolliver could see the sun outside, could see the freedom, could practically taste it on his tongue, and maybe his leg ached a little, but it didn’t matter, because it was right there - it was right there -
His good leg kicked the stand up and then with a jolt they were bolting forwards and -
-and it felt like he’d never stopped riding, felt like he was back where he belonged.
The wind was rushing past them, whistling through the air, the ache in his chest easing into pure euphoria as Tolliver accelerated. Every movement was practiced, careful, familiar. He careened down the street, eyes alert and laser focused on everything in front of him, on every tiny detail that was visible, and even the ones that weren’t, that he knew were ahead. It was all laid out in front of him, clear as day, and he could breathe.
He gunned the engine and shot forward, quick as a bullet, and then they were turning, and the bike was sweeping low sideways to accommodate, Tolliver’s knee almost on the ground, but he knew - he could control this, he knew this, and he pulled easily out of the dip as they rounded the curve, the sound of the bike and the feel of those arms around him the only thing that he knew, the only thing he ever wanted.
And it was beautiful.
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The roar of the bike was deafening, vibrating beneath them, and Hitch felt a lurch in the pit of his stomach as they jerked forward, a gasp lost and his fingers curling more tightly into the coolness of his lover’s leather. He’d never been on anything like this - mostly his mom and him, they’d relied on public transportation, and sometimes friends would give them rides in cars or whatever but that was nothing on this. He’d been on a few rides before, in carnivals and stuff like that, the shaky, rickety stuff where it was however many tickets for a few dollars, and that was about as close as he ever got to this.
Only this was smooth. This was fluid. This was fast and his heart was pounding and he could feel the wind racing past them, cutting through his flannel and making the fabric whip. The helmet made it so he could see, and yes, he saw, he saw buildings and streets and people whipping past them in a constant stream and -
-it was ******** awesome. He clung on a little tighter when they made that dip of a turn, his heart leaping into his throat, but Hitch trusted Tolliver and he trusted him right because the way he ******** managed that turn was ******** flawless, and he’d never imagined. He never could have imagined that this was how it would be, but he was so ******** blown away, and his adrenaline and euphoria bubbled out in rough, hard laughter as they straightened again after the turn.
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Like this, with the wind rushing past them, with the bike turning at his every whim, his every command, Tolliver felt, for the first time in so, so long, completely and utterly in control of his own self. He’d been so terrified that he would never feel like this, that he wouldn’t have even been able to get back on the bike in the first place, that he would be too anxious, too scared, too everything that he usually was.
But the fear had melted away. The anxiety had melted into the back of his mind, overshadowed by the pure ecstatic euphoria that came from this, from riding again. It was a high that Tolliver had missed so desperately it was almost overwhelming to feel it now, all at once, encompassing him. The pleasure shivered down him, excitement in his veins, in his very being.
As he took another turn, he thought he heard, over the sound of the bike, Hitch’s laughter, muffled through the helmet, and it only set his heart further on fire. His lover was clinging to him, arms tight around him, and Tolliver swerved into another empty lane, always careful of his surroundings, but loose and graceful with his movements. He weaved in and out of traffic and spaces with a finesse honed by years of practice, an effortlessness that made his heart light.
All too soon he was pulling back into the garage, but it had been one of the best times of his life, Tolliver swinging low as he turned - and this time his knee did touch the floor, just briefly, before the bike straightened and slowed, the engine rumbling as Tolliver pulled in.
The lights on the bike flickered, then turned off as the bike rumbled to a full stop and switched off.
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