aware of the stars - Chapter 18 - falloutmars (2024)

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the back of his mind, TK hears the clicking of the front door. It does nothing to deter him, though, so he carries on licking into Carlos’ mouth, enjoying the way he can lightly grind against him in the position.

They’re lying side by side for one reason or another, he can’t remember, their heads sharing a pillow and their legs tangled together, so he doesn’t think they’d be able to get off like this, but that’s not the aim for him right now. Really, he’s just holding Carlos’ face so they can keep kissing and kissing and kissing, and everything else around them can disappear into nothing.

All he can focus on is Carlos, and that’s precisely how he wants it.

There are definitely noises in the background, but his head spins deliciously as they kiss. He has a feeling Carlos hears something, too, making a noise of surprise against his lips, but they’re both quick to distract each other away from that when their tongues meet.

It’s perfect; it’s always perfect.

A minute passes, maybe less, maybe longer. TK makes no effort to move things on because this is enough. He plans on spending the next half hour kissing his boyfriend before he has to pull himself away and face the reality of today, Friday, but right now, it’s not reality. It’s a distant possibility, and he’s just kissing and kissing and—

“TK! We’re leaving in ten minutes!”

After the loud call, Carlos tries to break the kiss first. Another noise of surprise falls from his lips, vibrating against TK’s, but he tries to coax Carlos into another kiss instead. He heard the words, sure, heard them being called up the stairs, but his brain is too focused on his boyfriend that he doesn’t want to process them, he can’t.

“Babe,” Carlos murmurs a few seconds later. He lets TK kiss him again, then moves his hand from his chest to snake through TK’s arm and cup his cheek. He runs his thumb across his cheekbone as they kiss again, but after one more, he pulls back and opens his eyes. “Ty.”

TK opens his eyes, too. He sees Carlos’ glazed over, and he tries not to think about it, tries to focus instead on how close they are and how much he loves kissing him, but Carlos visibly swallows and opens his mouth to talk again. TK wants to shake his head, almost does, but Carlos gets there first.

“I thought we had another hour,” he whispers, small and meek, fragile.

“My flight’s at— no.” He curses under his breath as the realization of what he’s done sets in. His dad texted him the flight details, said they need to be at the airport for 17:10, and TK, in his gonna ignore this is happening way, completely misread it as 7. As in 19:10. He explains this to Carlos, still not moving any further away from him, shaking his head. “f*ck, I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not, baby,” Carlos says soothingly. He runs his thumb along TK’s cheek again, lifting his lips into a smile. “We just need to stop now.”

“Yeah.” TK frowns, but he stays still. “Don’t want to.”

“I know. Me neither.”

“TK!” his dad’s voice booms again. This time, it’s accompanied by steps getting closer, so TK jumps up from the bed with an apologetic glance in Carlos’ direction and heads to the door, reaching it just as his dad knocks on it. “TK, are you in there?”

He opens it just enough to see his dad, hoping his dad won’t see Carlos. “Yeah, Dad, I’m here.”

His dad looks somewhat surprised. “Are you packed?”

“Uh.” TK resists the urge to look back to his bed, knowing he’ll find Carlos laying there with a few winter clothes thrown on the bed next to him. His suitcase is still empty on the floor, and Carlos was meant to be helping him pack it, but TK will blame the fact he got his timings wrong and spent the past f*ck knows how long making out with his boyfriend instead of packing. Which he’s going to have to do now very quickly.

What actually happens is his dad gets a quick, “Almost done,” lie and the door shut in his face.

Except he preempts TK’s actions and holds it open.

“Is Carlos with you?” he asks this time. There isn’t an ounce of judgment, surprisingly; instead, he watches curiously, if not knowingly, as TK nods, and Owen mirrors his nod. “We’ll drop him home on our way, okay?”

“Dad, he’s got his car.” It’s parked along the road thanks to an influx of neighbors’ cars right outside, but his dad must’ve missed that. “He offered to take us to the airport, though.”

“I booked parking.” He sends TK a fleeting smile as if to say I know what you’re doing here, just adding, “Ten minutes,” with a stern look. He disappears down the corridor after that, and TK closes the door with a sigh.

As he leans against the door, he can hardly bring himself to look at his boyfriend. Because he had hoped for those extra minutes in the car, had hoped by some miracle that the flight time changed, and he could have that extra hour, but it hasn’t. Of course it hasn’t. Instead, when he does look at Carlos, TK finds him sitting up on his bed, watching him, and they both let out simultaneous breaths as their eyes meet.

Carlos beckons him over. TK can’t do anything other than go, padding toward him and letting Carlos take his hands in his own.

“I’ll miss you so much, Ty,” he whispers.

“I miss you already,” TK counters weakly. Tears build in his eyes again, but Carlos just shakes his head and pulls him into a cuddle. They end up falling backward onto the bed, but TK can’t bring himself to care when he’s being held in Carlos’ arms. “I love you so much, baby.”

“I love you, too. I love you so much.”

They move eventually. Ten minutes ticks down, and Carlos helps TK pack a few clothes into his bag, reminds him to take a phone charger and his toothbrush with a smile that TK just knows is a smidge fake. He packs his toiletries, jokes about the bottle of lube still in his toiletry bag from Washington and New York before that, and they both laugh even though it’s hardly funny. It’s forced laughter because laughter is better than the alternative, laughter because with every second they spend packing, the time for TK to leave gets closer.

Ten minutes is hardly any time at all, TK realizes. He knew, of course he did, but he’s met with the harsh realization in a moment he wishes he could forget.

Before he knows it, his dad is loading up the car with the empty suitcases his mom asked for, and TK is saying goodbye to Carlos in the hallway of his house.

He repeats the same sentiments: “I love you, I’ll miss you.” They’re joined by, “Be safe,” and “Text me,” and there’s a nagging thought at the back of TK’s mind that tries to get him to feel guilty for this, for being clingy. He pushes it away, not because it isn’t true, but because he doesn’t want to face that today. Today, he just wants to miss his boyfriend without being told it’s the wrong thing to do.

The thing is, he knows they’ll both be fine without each other; that’s not the problem. He just prefers being with Carlos.

If that’s a crime, arrest him.

TK chooses the moment Carlos starts walking toward his car, walking away, to get into his dad’s car. After they kiss goodbye, he doesn’t want to watch him and think about how he looks walking away, so he jumps into the passenger seat and closes his eyes. It only works for a second because the urge to wave to him outweighs everything else, so he cranes his neck and watches as he drives down the road like he’s done a hundred times, and he reminds himself it’s just like that. It’s a few days, and they’ll be back, and everything will be normal again.

His dad slams down the trunk, and a few seconds later, he’s sliding into the driver’s seat. He glances over at TK, something close to a sympathetic smile on his lips, and asks, “Are you okay, son?”

TK nods. “Let’s do this.”

Airports are anxiety-inducing at the best of times, but there’s something of a rush hour going on at Austin-Bergstrom airport when they arrive. It means there are the queues from hell, and even though they have enough time before their flight, TK begins to worry they’re not going to make it.

He opens his flight tracking app, breathing a sigh of relief when their plane isn’t on the live map yet. He shows his dad, but Owen is unbothered by the lines, just reassuring him that everything will be fine.

TK would appreciate his nonchalance if there weren’t so many goddamn people around.

Still, they make it through check in and security with too many problems. Well, TK gets pulled over for a full-body check that his dad has to be present for since he’s a minor, and it’s awkward as hell, but his dad makes small talk with the security guard, which only makes it more awkward, so he’s infinitely grateful when they get told to move on. After that, they’re spat out into the terminal, and TK realizes that his dad, despite said nonchalance, is actually an airport dad, too. He makes them check for the gate only to notice they have less time than they would’ve thanks to the lines, and though he doesn’t panic, he does ensure they don’t head too far away.

In all fairness, TK doesn’t exactly mind. He wants to get on this plane and get to New York because the sooner he gets there, the sooner he can get back home.

Not that he’s wishing his time away already or anything.

Thankfully, time speeds by, and sure enough, he’s soon boarding a Delta Airlines flight to JFK.

Considering they booked so late, he’s pleasantly surprised when he’s given a window seat—well, he practically begs his dad for it instead of the middle one, using the same puppy eyes he used to use when he was younger, and they work just like they always have. These days, he mostly saves them for Carlos, but Carlos gives in a lot quicker than anyone else does, and even the mere thought has TK letting out a long sigh.

“Son?” his dad prompts.

“I’m okay,” he says in understanding. He pulls his hoodie over his hands and thinks about how Carlos left wearing the same one. It’s stupid, and they’re ridiculous, but he frowns to himself and aimlessly checks his phone. He remembered from before that signal on the plane when they’re still on the runway sucks, so he’d texted Carlos a “talk to you later” message as they were boarding, which means there’s nothing now, nothing but their smiling faces on his phone’s lock screen.

He adores that photo, though.

In his bag, he’s got his The Starry Night bear, and he longs to pull it out. It makes him feel like a child, like a baby craving the comfort of something soft that reminds him of home, but it reminds him of Carlos, and he wants it, goddammit. He brought it to sleep with, but he wants it now, and f*ck, how he wishes they weren’t going.

“TK.”

His dad’s voice sounds something like a warning this time. Not a threat, but TK recognizes it as a don’t lie to me, son plea, one of fear and worry over anything else.

Around them, more and more people are boarding the aircraft. Someone sits next to them, a man a little older than Owen who immediately starts typing on his phone. TK glances over to see a spreadsheet open on it, but he looks away just as quickly, feeling guilty for staring. As he does so, his dad catches his eye and raises his brows.

“It’s just weird,” TK mutters, and his dad nods.

“We’ll be back before you know it.”

With a sigh, TK turns toward the window and watches out of it as the city below gets smaller and smaller.

TK didn’t realize how boring flying was when you aren’t with your boyfriend.

Because he’s downloaded a couple of movies to watch on his iPad, he’s got his whole Spotify library on offline mode, and he’s got Procreate on his iPad, too, but when there’s no one to share it with, he finds it all pretty boring. He can’t point out the character from the first movie he tries and gets bored of that looks like that guy from their homeroom class because his dad doesn’t have a clue; he can’t ask for advice on what color to add to his WIP digital piece because, again, his dad doesn’t have a clue. He tries, sure. He tells TK it’s looking good, and he’s sure he’ll make the right call, but TK misses Carlos’ introspection on his art.

God, he just misses Carlos. Already.

Halfway through the flight, his dad starts chatting to the man on the end of the row, and it drives TK crazy. He knows his dad, and he knows he’s a friendly guy who will talk to anyone and everyone who will give him the time of day, and it’s—it’s usually fine, but today, TK shoves his AirPods in and pulls out his sketchbook. He shuffles his and Carlos’ shared playlist, distantly wondering if Carlos is listening to it, too, and focuses on the page in front of him.

Once he gets into it, he’ll admit that it’s quite nice to be able to draw with no distractions. He’s just got a pack of pencils, a much-needed eraser, and a small sketchbook, and with a whole host of ideas he’s been hoarding in the back of his mind for some time, he simply draws.

And he gets into it, too. He finds inspiration in the clouds, just like before, and he holds onto the inspiration of his boyfriend, always there, always present in his mind and in his heart.

Really, it does wonders to cull his uneasy feelings.

Some time later, TK isn’t sure how long, his dad taps him on the shoulder. He jumps a little, then turns to face his dad, resisting the urge to cover his sketchbook. He’s not ashamed of his work and never will be.

“Would you like a drink?” Owen asks, gesturing toward the flight attendant at the end of the row, waiting with a polite smile.

Nodding, TK orders a water with a returned smile, pleased when he gets a miniature bottle rather than a plastic cup. His dad gets a coffee, which makes TK stifle a laugh because he knows how much his dad hates instant coffee, and he’s rewarded—if he should say that—when he takes a sip and grimaces. TK makes a joke out of it, and his dad watches him with a smile on his face.

“What have you been drawing?” he asks this time. He nods toward TK’s page.

“It’s, um.” TK angles the sketchbook toward his dad. The page in front of him is only half finished, but he’s happy with his progress already. Thankfully, there’s no writing on it—that will be the more personal part he won’t want his dad seeing—just the outline of a hand holding a phone and the start of the shading. “It’s for Carlos’ Christmas gift,” he explains. “If I can get it finished in time. Um, it’s—it’s memories, I guess, like a journal.”

The whole thing is slow progress, so he’s not sure if he’ll get it done. He doesn’t know if they’re doing Christmas gifts since he doesn’t even celebrate properly, but he figured it can just be… a gift if not. A gift that Carlos deserves, that Carlos will always deserve, even if it takes TK until next Christmas to finish it. Then again, with the idea of drawing and writing about some of his favorite special moments in their relationship, he has a feeling he’ll forever be adding to it, and that’s something he’s definitely not mad about.

As he studies the page, his dad’s smile widens.

“It’s beautiful, son,” he says sincerely. “Carlos will love it.”

TK mirrors his smile. “Yeah. I think he will.”

New York City is a beautiful city from above, TK thinks as they come into a slow descent, the city that never sleeps and its lights twinkling up at them. It’s something he’s taken for granted so much in his life, but he’s been lucky, in a way, to have lived here for so long. To be able to come back like this.

It might not be home anymore, but like he thought once before, it will always hold a piece of his heart.

These are the last blues we’re ever gonna have
Let’s see how deep we get
The glow of the cities below lead us back
To the places that we never should have left

***

“What’s gotten into you?” his mom asks over breakfast. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

TK manages to flash a forced half smile across the table, turning back to his breakfast. He slices into his stack of pancakes and briefly thinks about how much better his and Carlos’ are with white chocolate chips and raspberries. For a moment, he freezes his movements, resisting the urge to sigh.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles. “Of course I’m happy to see you, Mom.”

“He’s grumpy,” Owen stage whispers next to him, but TK doesn’t react quick enough to glare at him because his mom replies.

“Oh. I can tell that.”

The thing is, he is grumpy, but he doesn’t want to be. He blames the fact that he hasn’t slept for long enough even though he crashed the second they checked into their hotel room for the night, staying near the airport so they weren’t traipsing across New York City after one am. But that just meant they had to wake up early, earlier than TK thinks is justified, to check out and meet his mom for breakfast before they head over to hers to get to work.

And all that’s meant is that he hasn’t had a chance to talk to Carlos properly.

He woke up to a text this morning, and he’d almost cried when he read it because for a second, he wasn’t in New York. He replied, telling Carlos how much he loved and missed him already, but before they could have a proper conversation, his dad was ushering him into the bathroom and closing the door behind him, calling from outside that once again they only had a few minutes to get ready and leave.

On top of that, his parents both chastised him for using his phone at the table, even though it’s never been an issue before, so yeah, he is grumpy.

Grumpy and tired has been his default recently.

“I’m fine,” he repeats, ready to argue the point with more forced faux non-grumpiness, but neither of his parents seem to buy it. His mom looks at him with raised brows, and his dad shakes his head, so TK slumps his shoulders and sighs. He sets his fork down on the edge of the plate, admitting, “It’s always weird being back here.”

It’s not the reason, but it’s on his mind, too. And it’s one thing he doesn’t mind talking to his parents about.

“I know, honey,” his mom says, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “But I’m proud of you for coming. You didn’t have to, but you did it.”

His dad mirrors something similar, and TK just nods, leaning back in his chair.

He guesses he’ll see if he regrets it or not.

The moment they walk into his mom’s apartment, TK is reminded of when he and Carlos stayed here.

He doesn’t know why. There’s nothing in particular that reminds him of that time, except maybe the fact Carlos is on his mind, but he thinks back to the fond memories with a bittersweet sadness. It was so different to this, exploring, having fun, being together. TK needed that, but there’s a big part of him that wonders if he needs this, too. The monotony, the… the goodbye.

His mom tells him to go straight into the guest room, the one he and Carlos stayed in, and to start on the boxes on the floor. They’re full of his old stuff, she explains, so anything he doesn’t want can be thrown out or donated, and anything he wants will have to go to Texas with them.

It seems like an easy enough task, but as he closes the door behind him, TK takes a moment to pull out his phone and texts his boyfriend before he gets started.

[TK] look at what i have to sort

He sends the message as he’s taking a photo of the boxes, and Carlos’ typing bubble pops up as he sends it.

[Carlos] Update me babe

[Carlos] Oh, yeah, that’s a lot of boxes. Definitely update me if you find anything interesting

[TK] what counts as interesting though? everything’s boring without you

[Carlos] 🤍 I mean I think anything to do with you is interesting, so take your pick

[TK] :( you’re so sweet and i love you

[TK] sweetest boyfriend award 🎖️

[TK] it’s a star bc you are

[Carlos] That’s so sweet, Ty, but I think you’re the sweetest boyfriend

[TK] we can be sweet together

[Carlos] I love you too by the way, but get on with your sorting

[TK] what about you :(

[Carlos] I’ll still be here. Mia’s coming over soon, but she knows I’ll be texting you when I can 🤍🖤

[TK] tell her i say hi

[Carlos] Of course, babe

With a sigh, TK sends a line of heart emojis in reply and pockets his phone. If he doesn’t, he’ll spend the rest of the day texting Carlos instead of doing his bit, but he does frown to himself as he drops to the floor and opens the first box.

Then again, the sooner he gets it sorted, the sooner he’ll be free to talk to Carlos.

One box is completely filled with photo albums and loose photos from when he was younger, right from the day he was born to when he became a moody teenager who refused to let his mom take photos of him.

And god, he can’t believe how much he hasn’t changed, really.

Of course, he has. He’s grown up and into himself, but there are photos of him when he was no older than four or five playing with a plastic stethoscope, one on his own, another with it pressed against his dad’s arm. He flicks through to find one dated a month later on his birthday, his fifth birthday, with a bib-type apron on trying to be a nurse’s uniform replica, and it makes TK tear up.

He sifts through them, taking photos of a few of them on his phone, when something blue-green catches his sight out of the corner of his eye. Hopeful, he pulls another box closer and peers inside, and there it is. A nurse’s uniform and a plastic first aid kit.

“It’s always been in you,” he mutters to himself as he digs deeper into the box. There are a few more toys, another photograph or two, and right at the bottom, he comes across a series of plush toys.

It’s weird, in a way. He pulls out a dinosaur that he remembers vaguely, then he finds a teddy bear with its arm in a sling and a Band-Aid on its forehead. He finds another dinosaur, a smaller, pale green one with its spikes covered in a bandage, and he huffs out a breath as he runs his finger over the rough material.

A mix of memories and non-memories fill his mind, and he picks up the second dinosaur along with the first photo album and pads out of his room.

His dad isn’t anywhere to be seen, but TK finds his mom in the living room sorting through a box of DVDs. He doesn’t mention the fact that most things can be streamed these days, instead sinking onto the floor next to her without a word.

When she looks over at him, he holds up the dinosaur and whispers, “I can’t believe you kept it.”

As if she knows, she takes the album from him and flips it open to the pages he was just looking at. In some of the photos, he’s holding the dinosaur plush he has now. It used to be almost half the size of him, but now, it merely fits in one hand.

“You always loved helping your toys,” his mom says quietly. “You had this”—she points to his toy first aid kit in one of the photos—“but you insisted I let you have ‘real wee-woos’.”

“Real?” he questions.

“You would make noise every time. You thought your first aid kit was the same as an ambulance.” She smiles fleetingly. “You must’ve been three or four when we saw an ambulance with sirens going past in the street, and I told you it was someone your father knew so you wouldn’t get scared. It wasn’t his firehouse, but you were fixated on it ever since. You wanted anything that was ‘like Daddy’s friends’, so we got you toy ambulances and firetrucks, but you always loved the first aid kit the most.”

His lips lift at the thought of his younger self. He doesn’t remember it, but now he takes the moment into his heart. “And to think I’m helping to run real first aid courses now.”

His mom nods, pushing the dinosaur further into his hands. “You should take that back home. Keep it as a reminder of where you started. One day, you’ll be treating your first real patient, and Mr. Spikey will just be a distant memory.”

He holds the dinosaur, fiddling with the edge of one of the bandages, but makes no effort to move. A moment passes, then a second, then he asks, “Mom? Did I really always want to help people? And… and dinosaurs, I guess.”

“You did,” she confirms with a soft laugh. Turning back to the photo album, she flips forward a few pages and points to a photo of ten-year-old him at his dad’s old firehouse next to an ambulance and a firetruck. “You always said it was the best day of your life.”

“Maybe not anymore,” he says, chuckling. “Thank you, Mom.”

Her smile widens, and she stays wordless. They sit together for a minute, both silent in their reminiscence, then TK heads back to his room. There, he sends photos to Nancy with the caption hey look at my first patient, sincerely, 4 yr old TK.

The first of many, he thinks.

He has so much sh*t. So much sh*t in an apartment he doesn’t even live in from a place he hasn’t called home in over a year, and he’s seriously wondering why his mom kept so much of this stuff. He guesses when he and his dad first moved to Austin, they weren’t really graced with a lot of time to sort through boxes of old belongings, but he just never expected his mom to keep it all.

There’s a whole goddamn box dedicated to clothes and jewelry he left behind.

Which, okay, it’s like a walk down memory lane, a walk through his earlier emo years into who he is now, an almost eighteen-year-old with minimal change in music taste. The only change that’s come is that he’s more willing to listen to other people’s music, namely Carlos’, so he’s not completely as he was before, but still.

And in his defense, some of his old merch is incredible.

He sends photos of the Fall Out Boy t-shirts to Asha, questions himself as to why the ones that fit ended up staying here rather than going to Austin with him, then sends Carlos a selfie in a tank top he finds as he packs a few things into a suitcase to take home. Carlos replies before Asha, though that doesn’t surprise him, and he’s pleased with the “oh my god, you’re so hot” response he gets, along with the fire emoji, to which he tells his boyfriend it’s packed and ready to bring home.

Not that he’ll be able to wear it outside any time soon. Texas may be warmer than New York’s late fall weather, but it’s still pretty damn cold.

After the box of clothes, he moves onto a smaller box held together by more brown tape than cardboard. He has to go and ask his mom for some scissors—well, he asks for a knife, but she sends him off with a pair of scissors and a pointed comment telling him not to injury himself—and on the way back to his room, his dad wanders in the front door with bags from the grocery store.

Just as his mom starts cursing at his dad for bringing “more crap into this house,” TK sneaks back into his room.

The next box is jewelry, and once again, TK is left wondering how and why he left so much of it behind. He can say even his younger teenage self had great taste, so he chooses a few pieces he thinks Carlos will like on him, namely earrings from when he first got his ears pierced and a couple of bracelets he stopped wearing when he was told by some so-called friends they looked awful, packing them in a bag and into the suitcase.

Yeah, he understands why his dad brought so many empty ones now.

As he’s tossing out the things he doesn’t want, he comes across a still-sealed packet. He pulls it out, staring at it, and he frowns to himself. In there, he finds two BFF keyrings, each one half of a heart. They’re pink and yellow, made of that hard plastic, and attached to gold keychains, nothing he’d like now, but he studies them. The memory only floods back to him a few moments later, hitting him at full force, and he takes a deep breath.

He was going to give it to Alex, he remembers. It was a half-joking, half-serious gift, and he thought they could both have one half as a way of… being together, he guesses. But Alex never liked that sort of stuff, so he held onto it, wondering if he’d change his mind, wondering if he should or shouldn’t give it to him, and in the end, everything went to sh*t before he could.

He doesn’t remember stuffing it into a box, but he must’ve done.

They are cringy, he guesses, but he still thinks they’re cute. Definitely aimed more at kids and younger teens, but he pockets it because he knows just the person who will love and appreciate it the way it was meant to be appreciated.

He never thought he’d find someone to give it to and truly mean it yet all this has taught him is that time can heal. He’s here now, a year, maybe two, later, and he’s found that someone.

With a smile on his face, he pads out into the kitchen in search of his parents.

After a late lunch, with his mom surprisingly more chilled out than he envisioned and neither of his parents close to murdering each other, he gets started on the biggest box left.

He’s making good progress, he thinks. The smaller boxes seemed to be filled with bits and bobs he’ll probably end up chucking, and his suitcase is getting increasingly stuffed by the second, but he’s got empty boxes and piles to donate, so, like he’s learned in therapy, all progress is good progress.

In this box, he pulls out his Little Leagues hat that has him bursting out laughing when he remembers the conversation he and Carlos had about that before. He snaps a series of photos, some selfies, some in the mirror on the closet, all in various non-sexy poses, and sends them to Carlos without a caption. He imagines Carlos seeing them, briefly wishing he was with him to experience it until he remembers Carlos is likely still with Mia, and he laughs to himself again.

Sure enough, the reply he gets a few minutes later is a line of choice emojis—something he’s certain his boyfriend has learned from him—and a number of comments about how “unfairly attractive” he is. TK types back, pointing out how old he was when he wore it, and Carlos sends him an eye roll and a heart.

TK beams. God, he loves Carlos a whole lot.

Diving back into the box, he pulls out a few nonsensical items he puts in a pile to double check with his mom that they don’t have some deep TK history, then he grabs hold of a sketchbook.

His eyes light up because he remembers it. It’s dated, too, from early last summer when things were… Well, they were awful, but as much as he hates thinking about it, it was when he produced, in his opinion, some of his best work. And he thought he’d lost it. But here it is along with two others from last year and a smaller one dated three years ago.

Putting his more recent ones into the suitcase, he flips over the front cover of the last.

God, his art was so… basic. There are shapes and bad shading, attempts with charcoal, some pages with watercolor on, others with crayon, and it’s all just not that great. But as much as it isn’t great, it’s the start of his journey, and he flips through the pages with a smile on his face, alternating between cringing and laughing.

There’s one particular drawing in felt tip pen of a rainbow, a bad rainbow, that he takes a photo of to send to his group chat with Carlos, Mia, and Skye. He captions it a gay’s first gay art, shaking his head to himself as he tosses that sketchbook in the suitcase, too.

He can’t throw away his journey. He just can’t.

Instead, he turns back to the box and takes out the last item.

“What?” he mutters to himself, frowning when he realizes what it is. His old laptop and the charger taped onto the side, a laptop he thought was broken and lost and, honestly, he kind of forgot about it. He got a new one not long before he moved to Austin, and this one… Scrolling mindlessly through the Wikipedia page on bees got him through some of his worst nights.

Despite knowing it will be out of charge, he opens the lid and tries the button. Sure enough, the battery is dead, but he unwraps the cable and plugs it in, only somewhat surprised when the LED light turns on.

He waits for a minute, then tries the button again, Even though his heart huds, he smiles when the screen lights up, his old background greeting him. It’s a collage he made himself of some of his favorite things—bees, butterflies, Fall Out Boy, a painting, a few lyrics—and he cringes as much as he grins. It’s very him; that’s the thing. It still fits how he is now, and though he hopes he’s grown up slightly, he doesn’t mind clinging onto that familiar comfort a little longer.

The password is the same as the one he uses to this day, and he shakes his head to himself, rolling his eyes at his lack of internet safety as he starts clicking on a few of the folders.

It’s much of what he expected, truthfully. There’s school work and research documents, photos of more of his favorite things, a couple attempts at writing that he tried—he makes a mental note to send them to himself so he can show Carlos when he’s home—but he stumbles across something he’d completely forgotten about, a memory locked away from the worst time in his life.

Undertale.

God, that game just… He spent so much time on it, so much energy and emotional investment, and it was one of his biggest comforts when he craved distraction amongst turmoil. The characters become something like friends, the gameplay he watched on YouTube the background noise he always needed, and he doesn’t know how he just forgot about it. He guesses it was self preservation. What he went through, everything he did and had to recover from, it’s not a time he chooses to reflect on all that much, but as he clicks on the logo, and the game loads with his last save file under “Tyler,” he’s met with a level of nostalgia he’s only ever gotten here in New York.

The familiar music plays through the tinny speakers of his laptop, and he can’t stop a smile from forming on his face.

He remembers all of this vividly. His character is at the end of the final house just before the end of a true pacifist route, his favorite ending with all the characters, his friends, happy and together, and this is his favorite place. Late one night, once he finished the game, he walked the whole of the game back to the start yet this is where he always comes back to.

Now, he walks his character through the house to the mirror at the end of the hallway and interacts with it.

Despite everything, it’s still you.

The quote meant a lot to TK of last year, but here, once again in New York, doing better than he ever could’ve envisioned back then, it means everything to him.

Because he’s here. And he’s still TK.

Still just you, it reads later. That’s true, too, TK thinks.

“So I was thinking about you,” TK says into his phone later that night.

On the other end, Carlos laughs softly. “Is that before or after you were thinking about Undertale?”

“I am thinking about you,” TK corrects, and as he says so, he relaxes back into the pillows, letting out a sigh. Undertale is, like, so three minutes ago, though he can’t say he didn’t enjoy taking Carlos on a journey through his favorite video game.

“Aren’t you always?” Carlos quips, and despite himself, TK laughs.

“Are you gonna keep being annoying or will you let me talk?”

“Sorry, babe.”

“So I’m thinking about you,” he repeats. He pulls his phone from his ear and switches Carlos onto speaker, placing it next to him. Then, he twists his body slightly as he gets himself comfortable, letting his hand hover over his stomach.

There’s rustling on the other end before Carlos murmurs, “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah. And I’m in bed.”

“Wait,” Carlos interrupts, “where are your parents? Because if this is going—”

“They’re not here,” TK interrupts right back. “They’ve gone to my mom’s office.”

“At nine o’clock at night?”

“It’s ten actually. And yeah, my mom said something about it being quiet there, so they’re— Hold on, wait, it doesn’t matter.” They’re packing whilst no one else is in, but he really doesn’t need to tell Carlos that, so he lowers his voice. “Are you alone, baby? Are you thinking about me?”

“Yeah, I’m in my room.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, I’m thinking about you, Tyler. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too.” There’s a moment, just a beat or two, when TK questions himself. He wonders if they should just talk about their days, then nothing until TK gets sleepy, but he really has been thinking about Carlos, and he really does miss his boyfriend in that way.

Luckily for him, Carlos says, “Are you gonna tell me what you were thinking about?”

“You,” TK replies effortlessly. “About how this time last year I touched you for the first time.”

“It wasn’t exactly—”

“Nearly. It was Thanksgiving break, and you made me come in my pants on the first day because it was so hot just kissing you and grinding up against you.”

Carlos’ breathing gets heavier over the phone line. “I touched you a few days later.”

“Yeah,” TK agrees. “And I touched you. I haven’t wanted to stop since.”

He didn’t realize how true those words were until he gets them out in the open. He aches for it, to touch Carlos and be with him in ways that make them feel as close as humanly possible. To touch him and be inside of him or have Carlos inside of himself, all these things he craves so goddamn much.

“I used to think we’d grow out of this,” he adds in a murmur as he trails his hand down his torso and underneath his t-shirt, one of Carlos’, he thinks. He runs a thumb across his nipple, desperately wishing it was Carlos’ instead, but he lets out a content sigh with it. “But every second I just want you more. I can’t imagine not wanting you.”

“Me too,” Carlos agrees, his voice an octave lower than usual, breathier and impossibly sexier. Even just two words go straight to TK’s co*ck. “I can’t get enough of you, Tyler. I want you all the time.”

TK preens at it. “It’s not just me?”

“No f*cking way.” He lets out something close to a whine. “Ty, I need to—”

“What do you need, baby? Talk to me.”

There’s a moment, there always is. When TK isn’t sure if Carlos is going to back out—which he wouldn’t mind if he did, of course—but Carlos always surprises him with a text message. And it shouldn’t be a surprise because he knows what’s coming. Carlos has done it every time they’ve done this, but he hears movement on the other end, then his phone lights up with a message.

“Carlos—”

“Look at it, Ty,” he murmurs in that silky smooth voice that has TK briefly closing his eyes and letting images flash through his mind.

Picking up his phone, he clicks on Carlos’ message with shaky hands. It’s a photo, just like he thought, of Carlos in bed with nothing but a pair of boxers on. The photo is taken from above, so TK can see the near crazed look in his eyes, a slight smirk on his lips, and his toned torso that TK wishes he could kiss along, but more than that, the tip of Carlos’ co*ck is poking out of the waistband of his boxers.

“f*ck, Carlos,” he says, partly under his breath as he tries to control his breathing. “f*ck, you’re so f*cking hot.”

“Ty,” Carlos whimpers, and TK smiles to himself as he strips off his t-shirt, adjusting his position to take a photo of his own. He curses again because he knows how much Carlos likes it, and he hears Carlos let out a shaky sigh. “Tyler,” he repeats. “If you’re doing what I think you’re doing—”

“Just repaying the favor.” He presses send on the photo, grinning to himself. “And once you get it, I want you to take your boxers off, okay?”

He knows the exact second Carlos receives the photo because the line goes quiet. He can’t hear Carlos’ breathing, but there’s a distant curse, a Spanish one, if TK is right, that’s followed by rustling, and he uses the opportunity to kick his own boxers off, getting comfortable on the bed.

“You are the hottest being on this planet,” Carlos says a moment later, and TK laughs.

“Sounds like something I’d say.”

“It’s true. You’re beautiful.”

“I thought I was hot.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, and TK laughs again.

“If I shut up, I won’t be able to tell you what I’m thinking.”

“Tell me, Ty.”

Running one hand from his nipple along his stomach, TK closes his eyes. Slowly, he wraps his hand around his co*ck and says, “I’m thinking about when you first touched me. I could tell you were nervous, but I could hardly focus with how good you made me feel.”

“I wanted that. I wanted to make you feel good.”

“I know, babe.”

“I want that now. I want to— Babe, are you touching yourself?”

TK hums as he slowly moves his hand along his co*ck. He’s teasing himself, really, but it feels so good. “I wish it was your hand. Or your mouth. Remember when you first blew me?”

“I’ll never forget. Or when you first blew me.”

TK smiles at the memory. “You came so hard.”

“You did that to me, you still do.”

“Are you touching yourself, baby?”

Carlos lets out a noise somewhere between a moan and crying out, and TK knows he’s doing just that. For a second, he closes his eyes and pictures his boyfriend. It doesn’t take much; he’s not lying when he says Carlos is always on his mind, and a naked Carlos touching his own hard co*ck is never far behind. It’s the best sight. It’s a sight he wants in front of him right now, but he knows that when he opens his eyes, he’ll be alone again.

Instead, he focuses on the call.

“Do you remember when we got off together?” he asks this time. “When you touched yourself for me right there in front of me.”

“How could I forget?” Carlos murmurs. “Oh, f*ck, Ty.”

“Slow down, baby.” He pauses his own hand, then squeezes the base of his co*ck. “I want this to last, okay?”

Carlos lets out another breath. “I want to come.”

“And you will. Just not yet.”

“Okay. Okay.”

He diverts the conversation.“So you remember?”

“Yeah. You looked so f*cking good.”

“Can we do that again sometime? Will you let me watch you, Carlos?”

“If you let me watch you.”

“Always.” He swallows thickly, trying to control his breathing. “Would you touch yourself as I open you up? My fingers inside of you, your hand on your co*ck…”

“TK, you’re killing me here.”

“Tell me.”

“Yes. I want it. I want you, Ty, I’m so hard, please.”

“I know,” he murmurs soothingly. He’s endlessly wishing he could reach out and physically soothe his boyfriend, and he can’t wait until he can again. “Touch yourself again. Slowly. And talk to me.”

Carlos lets out a moan that echoes into a breath. “Oh my god, I’m— I’m so. Tyler…”

TK wraps his fingers around his own co*ck again, rubbing his thumb over the slit. It’s wet with precome leaking all over his hand, and if Carlos was here, he’d get him to lick it off. f*ck, the thought of his boyfriend’s mouth is just…

“I want that, too,” Carlos mumbles. “Wanna taste you.”

Unable to process the fact he must’ve been talking out loud, he counters that with, “Are you leaking, Carlos? Are you wet for me?”

“So much. Would you—would you taste me, too?”

“Oh my god.” He cries out at the thought, his hand flying over his co*ck. He can’t stop himself or slow himself down anymore, he’s just chasing the idea, wishing it into existence. “Yeah, f*ck. I would—at the same time.”

Carlos moans loudly. “f*ck, Tyler.”

“I know. I know, keep going, baby.”

“I’m close.”

TK is, too. It feels like they went from zero to a hundred really f*cking quickly, but that’s the way with them. One minute they’re talking about Undertale, the next, TK is picturing Carlos in any number of positions and wishing he was here right now to fulfill some of them.

“Keep going,” he repeats. “I’m close, too, I’m—f*ck.” He can’t control what words fall from his lips, but he knows he’s babbling on about Carlos and his co*ck and how much he wishes he could be there to see him come. There’s a distant part of his brain that thinks about stopping again and asking to FaceTime, but it’s dark in his room, and that would involve one too many steps when he needs to come so badly. Instead, he tells Carlos how hard he’s going to f*ck him when he’s home, and Carlos cries out on the other end.

“Ty, babe, f*ck, I’m gonna—”

And that’s all it takes for TK to spill over his own hand, too. With it, he moans Carlos’ name, and he keeps moving his hand until every last drop of come is coating his torso.

For a moment, it’s quiet between them, only their ragged breaths filling the air.

Then, Carlos says, “Wow.”

It’s what gets TK to fumble for his phone with his clean hand and snaps another photo, purposely stretching his arm over his head and getting the tip of his spent co*ck at the bottom of the frame. He sends it off, waiting without a word until he hears Carlos curse again, and he grins to himself.

“Oh, you like that, baby?” he asks teasingly.

“Love it,” Carlos confirms, and it’s followed by TK’s own phone receiving a text. Carlos must hear because he adds, “You’re welcome, babe.”

Sure enough, Carlos is in a similar position to TK, but the mere evidence of it has TK’s co*ck twitching. “You’re gonna get me going again,” he jokes. Then, more seriously, “You really are incredible, you know that, right?”

“Not as incredible as you. That was amazing.”

Sighing, TK shakes his head even though Carlos can’t see him. “I don’t mean that,” he says. “Not just that anyway. All of you is just… incredible.”

“And here I am thinking I’m the sappy one after sex.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just miss you.”

“I know, babe,” Carlos hums. “And I miss you, too. I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there.” He sighs again as he feels the come on his torso drying, grimacing. “Baby? Baby, I really need to go clear up, but will you be here to call again when I get back?”

“Oh, Ty, of course.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, but he hesitates. “I don’t want to hang up.”

“Ten minutes, okay? Ten minutes, and we’ll be back. I love you, Tyler.”

TK lets himself smile. “Ten minutes. I love you, too.”

If he can’t fall asleep with Carlos in his arms, settling for having him on the other end of the phone line will have to be enough.

Something, he thinks, is better than nothing.

***

Their call has ended when he wakes up, which he isn’t surprised about. If he’s honest, he hardly remembers going to sleep in the first place, but he knows Carlos was there on the other end of the phone again, soothing him in the way he wanted. Because it’s not that he can’t sleep without him, it’s just more the fact he doesn’t want to. And after what they did last night, going to sleep alone would’ve just felt like a kick in the teeth.

He hates waking up alone, though. For a second, his brain betrays him, and he forgets where he is, but reality kicks in just as quickly. What he finds is that he doesn’t hate it quite as much today. Of course, he’d always rather be with Carlos, but being here in New York is nowhere near as hellish as it would’ve been before.

Finding a message from Carlos always helps, too.

It’s quiet in his room, but he can hear noises coming from outside the door. He can only assume it’s his parents, and the mere thought of them being up so early after getting home late last night, no doubt with more boxes for the move, makes him shiver. Goddamn his parents and their ability to apparently need no sleep. It’s not a gene they passed onto him, that’s for sure.

He spends ten minutes trying to get himself to wake up. He texts with Carlos mostly, a little with Mia and on the 911 group chat, but Nancy must still be sleeping, and Grace and Judd don’t reply all that much these days, so it’s just him and Paul with the occasional comment from Asha or Carlos. He tries not to mind all that much.

Instagram is a great distraction. Carlos, too.

Still, time ticks by whether he likes it or not, and he’s grown enough as a person to realize that the quicker he gets something done, the sooner he can, well, stop doing it, so he drags himself out of bed and pulls on clean pants and a t-shirt, throwing a hoodie on top. He sends Carlos a sleepy selfie as he puts his glasses on just because, gets an awake one in return—with the caption “Just going for a run, talk to you soon x”—and TK almost wants to fly across the country himself to get back to his boyfriend, but he catches himself and decides to use the break to go and, you know, get started.

Well, via the bathroom and with a pause for breakfast, but that’s beside the point.

When he does eventually pad into the kitchen, he finds it in complete silence.

His mom leans against the counter, her glasses on and arms folded against her chest, and she’s shooting daggers across the room to where Owen is sitting at the dining room table, an empty box and a notepad in front of him.

“Uh, morning,” TK tries, and immediately, his mom snaps out of it, shaking her arms out and plastering a smile on her face.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

“Sure,” he replies, but he looks between his parents with furrowed brows. “Did… something happen? Was everything at work okay?”

“Everything’s good,” his mom replies, practically ushering him onto a stool rather than the dining table with his dad. “Would you like tea or coffee? There are pastries for breakfast, too.”

He hardly gets a chance to reply before his mom hands him a mug of tea with a sloth-shaped tea strainer hooked onto the side of the mug. With it, he gets handed a croissant from one of the best bakeries on this side of the city, and he smiles in thanks. His mom smiles back, but he can tell it’s fake, so he tries and fails to catch his dad’s attention, sighing. He seems busy, focusing on something TK can’t see in front of him, and his mom has already started on the kitchen cupboards.

Pulling out his phone from his hoodie pocket, TK opens Instagram again.

Don’t let them get to you, he tells himself, but he doesn’t believe a word.

“Mom, can I go out?”

His mom shoots a frown in his direction. “Have you finished those boxes?”

He nods. “All that’s left is the donation pile.”

“Are you sure? Have you checked the closet?”

“Yes, Mom, and I can’t help out with the kitchen stuff, so please can I go out?”

Pausing her removal of every damn thing from the kitchen cupboard—currently Tupperware—his mom stands up and leans against the counter. She studies him as she leans against the worktop. “Where are you going?”

Truthfully, he’s just bored. Ever since breakfast, he’s been trying to avoid being in the same room as his parents because of the awkward atmosphere between them. They haven’t really spoken, not to each other, hardly to him unless he interacts with them first, and TK has no idea if they’re both just stressed with how much still needs doing—because it’s a lot, and they leave tomorrow morning—or if something else has happened, but he hates being stuck in the middle. Again.

He guesses he’s hoping that giving them space might mean they actually talk to each other and talk about what’s going on between them. He wants to come back to a peaceful apartment, as much as he understands the stress, but there’s definitely part of him that feels like he needs to get out, too. Just for a break. Just a short while.

He doesn’t say that, though. Instead, he replies, “I don’t know. Not far.”

“TK.”

“Maybe the park and a coffee shop. I just need…” He swallows thickly. boring his eyes into his mom’s in the hope that she’ll understand without words.

Instead, she lets out a long sigh and calls for Owen.

TK wants to stomp his feet like a child, but if he has to get permission from both of his parents just to go for a goddamn walk, he guesses being like a child isn’t exactly wrong. That’s how they’re making him feel, but the rational side of his brain reminds him that it’s partly his own doing from before, and it’s no wonder they’re scared.

Over a year on, he just wants them to trust him more.

His dad comes padding in from another room, the office. He’s holding a box that he adds to the top of the pile stacked by the front door, and even TK notices that he sends to be doing everything extra slowly today. It would annoy him.

“TK wants to go out,” his mom says plainly, just like he isn’t here.

“Sure,” his dad replies. “Grab lunch on your way back, son. I should have some cash somewhere you can take. And call me if you need anything.”

His mom huffs before he can say anything. “Seriously, Owen? Just like that?”

“What’s the harm?”

“The harm is—”

“I’m right here, you guys,” TK interrupts. He throws his hands in the air, and he realizes he’s standing directly in between them like they’re playing word tennis over his head. “Can someone address me? You know, like adults.”

Owen looks at him with a smile on his face. “Just don’t be longer than a couple of hours. And take your phone, TK. You don’t have Carlos’ as a backup this time.”

He pats his pocket, smiling. “Got it.”

“TK, I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” his mom says instead. “Perhaps you should stay here or…”

“I’ll be fine, Mom.”

Crossing the room, his dad pats his shoulder on the way past, making his way toward Gwyn. He stands in front of her for a moment, and TK can only imagine the non-conversation they’re having as he looks away, only for his mom to let out a long sigh.

“Don’t be long,” she says, addressing him with a forced smile. “And be safe, honey.”

“Sure,” he replies, and he pads into his room to grab his jacket.

It’s been so long since TK has walked around New York City on his own. He doesn’t think he can even remember the last time, whether it was before or after the party, before or after everything went to sh*t, but what he does know is that there’s a semblance of comfort in being alone, something he can’t quite put his finger on.

He puts his AirPods in as he heads in a familiar direction. The streets are ones he recognizes, the path one has taken before, and he smiles at strangers as they walk past, content in a way he wasn’t expecting.

It’s liberating, really. It’s just him and the sidewalk and the rest of the world, and for the first time, there’s not a shred of discomfort. Music plays through his AirPods, one of Carlos’ songs he’s starting to love even though he could never tell you the title or artist, there’s a gentle breeze on his skin, but it’s not too cold, just… just nice.

He takes in the city through new eyes. He’s grown as a person since he was last here, since he last lived here, and this is… There’s something about it that he can’t put his finger on, but he’s walking down memory lane like he’s never coming back.

Maybe he won’t. Maybe this is goodbye. But maybe, one day in the distant future, he will.

As he walks further from his mom’s apartment, a destination pops into his mind.

It’s not far out, so it won’t take long, but he has a feeling it will be the last time he comes to this part of town. It’s just not touristy. For him, it’s nostalgic and comes with more memories than he expected, but he turns a couple of corners, and in front of him, in a completely unexpected location, is Crystal Works.

Instinctively, his thumb runs over the band of his black gem ring, and he lets out a breath. It’s protected him for so long now, but he’d like to pay forward the favor.

Of course, there’s only one person in mind.

Taking out his AirPods, TK steps inside. It’s hardly changed since he last came here years ago, the crystals all set out in their small compartments with labels listing a few details about their properties. The store itself is light and airy, and against the walls are display counts of jewelry with every crystal possible.

Really, TK thinks they’re all beautiful.

He spends a while just sifting through the choices. He finds a few of his favorites, amethyst, howlite, so many he already has, and he contemplates buying more, but the second he catches sight of a piece of moonstone, he forgets everything else.

It’s beautiful, but he’s always thought that. It’s a pale white, translucent in some areas, with an iridescent shine to it. Because of that, it shimmers rainbows made better by the light, and TK just knows it’s perfect.

“It’s said to be connected to the moon,” the person behind the counter says softly as he picks it up. “It brings good fortune and harnesses inspiration. It has calming qualities, too, and aids healing, especially in new beginnings.”

TK glances over at her and smiles. “It’s perfect.”

She smiles back. “Is it for yourself?”

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze back to the piece in the palm of his hand. It’s smoother than he thought, and it really is just perfect in every way. “My boyfriend,” he explains. “I think he’d love it.”

“Some say it’s the stone of destiny,” she adds with a wider smile. “If that fits you two, I’d say it’s the one.

Yeah, destiny sounds about right.

In the end, that’s what seals the deal. He picks up a moonstone charm, buys both that and the one he decides he can’t put back, a couple of others he can’t resist, and smiles again at the assistant when she says she hopes his boyfriend loves it. With a final smile, he leaves the store with a spring in his step.

Immediately, he thinks about calling Carlos. He wants to, but he always wants to, and he checks his phone to see a message from him that he’s taking his mom out for lunch. It makes him smile so much. The thought of Carlos getting all of this is just…

They’re both healing, he thinks. They’re both doing so well.

Still, he texts back, got you something bc i love you so much and another, hope you have a nice time. He imagines Carlos’ smile when he sees it, unable to stop his own grin from widening.

Unsurprisingly, he gets back I love you too xxx

Even when he’s busy, Carlos always has time for him.

There’s a park not far from his mom’s apartment that isn’t Central Park, not even on the same wavelength, but to him, it’s no less beautiful. This time of the year, the tree-lined sidewalks are covered in orange and brown leaves, and TK basks in walking through them, the crunchy noise they make underneath his feet. It’s typical of fall. There’s a chill in the air now, the breeze picking up, but the sun shines down on his and this small park, so he takes the time to be by himself as he walks through it.

He gets lost in thought. There’s a lot going on in his mind, a lot to think about, a lot he doesn’t want to think about, but this is the perfect place for that because it brings him peace. Passerbys smile at him, but they don’t judge. They don’t know whether he’s from New York, Texas, or the other side of the world. Here, he’s just someone taking a walk, and there’s more comfort in that than he anticipated.

He’s going home tomorrow. And as the thoughts run through his brain, he realizes how well “home” fits. Not just in terms of the obvious, in terms of his boyfriend, but Austin and Texas as a whole. He used to be home here in New York, but that’s not his reality anymore. He spent years here, the first sixteen years of his life, years he’ll never forget and never wants to, but he takes in the sight of a place that used to be achingly familiar in ways that hurt, and he finds that he prefers it here when it isn’t home.

Tomorrow, he’ll say goodbye, and he won’t know when or if he’ll ever come back, and maybe that will hurt, maybe it won’t, but he’ll be going home. That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Today, though, he’s here.

He’s here, and the park is calm and peaceful. There are other people around, some runners, a couple of dog walkers including one person holding their tiny poodle in their arms, and TK smiles to himself. If he could, he’d capture a photo and send it off to Carlos, but he keeps his camera to himself, making a mental note to tell him later instead.

There’s always so much he wants to share with Carlos, and he wonders if that’s part of the reason he prefers being with him. It’s always better with two, he thinks.

Turning the corner, he takes the middle sidewalk through the park. There are two others, but this one reminds him most of Central Park and its winding routes, ones that he and Carlos walked together back in the summer. Of course, that’s where he wants to be. At home with his memories. At home with his thoughts.

And he walks slowly, just padding along, thinking, being, until he hears his name.

He stops. There’s no one in front of him, so he turns around to find a brown-haired girl, no older than him, staring right at him.

“TK! It is you!”

He blinks once, aware he’s staring right back, until the pieces slot into place, and holy sh*t, he thinks. “Amelia?”

“Long time, no see,” she says with a half shrug, and he can’t help but pull her into a hug.

“It’s been forever,” he mumbles into her ear, letting out a breath as they part. “I almost didn’t recognize you there.”

She flashes him a smile. “I saw you from across the park, but I thought ‘no, no, it can’t be him’. What are you doing in New York? I thought you moved.”

Amelia was one of the good ones. He didn’t have many friends, not real ones, at high school here, but she was always kind to him. They used to share a couple of classes, and they’d buy each other birthday gifts even though they never hung out outside of school, but once everything went to sh*t in TK’s life, they completely lost contact. It was on him, he’s aware. One minute he was in school barely keeping it together, the next minute he’s moving across the country without so much of a word.

Guilt pricks at him like shards of broken glass, but he tries to push it away.

“I did,” he says. “I’m in Austin now, have been for over a year. I’m only here for the weekend.”

She accepts his answer with a nod. “Texas, hm? That sounds like a big change.”

“It was, but I’m used to it now.” Fleetingly, he thinks about how true that is, and his lips lift into a smile. “Anyway, how are you? How are things in the Big Apple?”

“Shall we walk and talk?” she offers, and he follows her with a nod.

Like before, Amelia is lovely. She talks about life in New York, a bit about his old high school and what she’s studying now, and it’s all friendly chatter with no room for anything other than a familiar comforting feeling. She was always that for him before, way before he understood how much he craved someone just being nice to him, and he could curse himself for losing contact with her.

Then again, he lost contact with everyone back in New York. It came with too many bad memories that he struggled to hold onto even the good ones.

Now, he’s doing better at separating them.

“I actually looked at UT,” Ameilia says as the conversation moves onto colleges. “Not in person, but I looked at it online. In the end, I thought something closer might be better for me.”

“It is a great college,” he replies. “I know a few people that attend, and they all love it. My friend is a social science major, and my boyfriend’s cousins—”

“Wait!”

He physically stops, sending her a confused look. A few equally confused fellow walkers move around them, and TK explains, “One went to their law school, and the other is at art school with her partner. We’re all really close, and—what?”

A smile spreads across Amelia’s face. “You have a boyfriend.”

It’s not a question, but TK confirms anyway: “I do.”

“A serious boyfriend?”

He resists the urge to flash his rings because that would only invoke a conversation about how they’re not really engaged, but they’re definitely more than just high school boyfriends, and as much as he loves talking about Carlos, he’d rather not get into that right now. Instead, he lets himself positively beam. “Very.”

Amelia’s eyes soften, and she sighs happily. “Please tell me all about him.”

With a laugh, TK continues walking, and Amelia follows. “So, his name is Carlos, and he’s incredible.”

Well, nothing can stop him now.

“I should head back now,” TK says after almost an hour with Amelia. They’ve walked and talked, found a bench to sit on and talked some more, and TK swears he’s spent most of the time talking about Carlos, but he’s not mad about it. Because Amelia has spoken a lot about her boyfriend, too. TK just thinks that’s part of… friendship, really. If he can still call this that.

She smiles sadly but nods. “Sure.”

“It’s been lovely to see you again.” He hugs her, just briefly, then stands up from the bench. “You were always the nicest person back in junior year, and I never thanked you for that, so—”

She cuts him off with a shrug, standing up, too. “I was just being a decent person, TK. I’m sorry no one else treated you like you deserved, but it sounds like you found someone who appreciates you properly now.”

“He is really special,” TK confirms. As are his friends, he adds to himself. “I’m lucky.”

Amelia smiles again, then reaches out to touch his arm. “I don’t know if it’s my place to say, but TK, you look… a lot happier now than before. Austin must be good for you.”

“It is,” he murmurs, and with a breath, he swallows thickly. “Look, Amy, I’m really sorry about what happened before. I should’ve, I don’t know, been a better friend. I should’ve stayed in contact.”

She shakes her head. “No, TK. You had a lot going on, and I’m—I missed you, but now I know you’re happy, that’s all I could ask for.”

Tears prick in his eyes. “That means a lot.”

“Take Texas by storm, okay?”

“I will,” he promises. “And you show Columbia what you’re made of.”

Amelia smiles. “Oh, I will. Just you wait.”

TK lifts the key to the door when he hears it. It’s muffled through the wall, but it’s evident shouting, his mom’s voice promptly followed by his dad’s. His hand shakes, the key sliding past the lock, and he lets out a breath, tries to focus on that way he is breathing in and out, calm yet nowhere near calm, panicked, really, terrified.

There’s another bellowing voice, his mom’s again, and he leans forward, his head hitting against the door with a light thud. It doesn’t hurt, but distantly, he wishes it did.

Going in is the last thing he wants. He contemplates other options, like going back out and pretending he never heard any of this, texting his dad to say he’s found a nice coffee shop he’s going to stay in for a while. He could try calling someone, even though he’d feel guilty for it, but it would be better than being alone in the middle of New York, but maybe it was intended he’d be alone here. That’s always how he ends up. Always.

He contemplates walking away for long enough that he hears more yelling from both of his parents. It should be enough to make his decision, he thinks, but his feet are stuck to the ground like they’re in tar and superglue, and moving them a mere inch is an impossible task.

Behind the door, there’s a moment of silence.

With his shaking hand, he takes the opportunity. He opens the lock of the door, but he hardly knows how or why. He stumbles forward, almost forgetting the bag in his spare hand filled with the lunch he bought, but like his legs have a mind of their own, he moves forward, takes steps into the eerily silent apartment.

His mom is in the kitchen with her arms folded. His dad is standing a few feet away, staring right at her. Neither move nor react when TK walks into the room.

He drops his keys and the bag to the table, but it’s like he’s walked into a paused movie. Their lack of reactions, only focused on each other, confuses him, scares him in a way. He can’t even tell if they know he’s there or not, so he clears his throat, and his dad snaps his eyes to him, a fake smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, son. Did you have a good time?”

TK swallows thickly, but he nods. He opens his mouth to say yes, to perhaps explain about Amelia or even just the fact he got lunch, but before he can, his mom scoffs.

“Oh, don’t pretend everything’s fine, Owen.”

I’d rather you did, TK doesn’t say.

“Sorry for talking to my son, Gwyneth,” Owen retorts. “We’re not married anymore, but you still like to tell me what to—”

“That is uncalled for, and you know it! You’re meant to be here helping me yet all you’ve done is make my life a misery and focus on your own work! But you know what, Owen, I’m—”

“Seriously?!” TK shouts in between them. He stands there, a physical barrier, in a way, and throws his hands in the air like he can’t hold back. His parents’ shouting gets to him, it itches his skin and throws him back in time, but when he shouts, a silence falls over the room. His mom stops in her tracks, his dad doesn’t react, the two of them both watching him as if they’d forgotten he was here again.

Honestly, TK wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

Taking a quick breath, he continues, his voice quieter yet still raised: “We haven’t been here two full days yet, and you two are already tearing strips off each other. From tomorrow, you’ll be living together again in Austin, and you said you wouldn’t do this. You both promised!”

When he pauses, neither of them rushes to say anything. He takes the opportunity to move out of the middle of their argument, clueless as to how he ended up there again, and takes a deep breath as he turns around. He holds it for a few seconds, somewhat surprised when he still gets nothing from them.

Turning back around, he directly addresses his mom. “Mom, I have no idea what you think Dad is or isn’t doing, but can’t you accept that he didn’t need to come here? We wanted to come to help you, Dad wanted to come, and yelling at him isn’t gonna solve anything. I know you’re stressed, but be an adult, Mom. Please. For me.”

His mom opens her mouth, but he shakes his head before she says anything. No doubt, it will be an apology he doesn’t want to hear, a so-called excuse or reason, so instead, he turns to his dad.

“The same goes for you,” he says. He can feel his voice getting quieter and weaker with every word, but he hopes it doesn’t come across that way. “We’re all adults here, and you know that shouting doesn’t fix anything. It’s part of the reason why we’re in this mess in the first place, so just… talk, okay? Both of you.” He glances at his mom, then points to the bag of food on the otherwise clear table. “Sit down, and eat that together. Talk it out. Don’t shout again. You don’t have to love each other, but you have to find a way to tolerate living together again, okay?”

With one final sigh, TK lets his shoulders slump and heads toward his room, but before he gets there, his mom calls his name. Reluctantly, he looks back.

“We’re sorry, honey. We really are.”

“We are,” Owen agrees. “It won’t happen again.”

He shrugs. “Save your promises. You said that before, and look at you now.” He gestures vaguely, his arm heavy. “You’ll never change.”

And with that, he steps into his room and closes the door behind him.

He makes it to the bed. He doesn’t know how, not when there are so many obstacles in the way, and his brain is everywhere but with his present body. In theory, he should trip and fall over the boxes and suitcase in the way, and there’s a part of him, a slither, that thinks that would be better. Because he can’t deal with this. Day in, day out, shouting, yelling, screaming. Awkward eye contact with knowing neighbors in the elevator, avoiding everyone and everything, including his parents, wondering how the hell he can dull the pain in his chest, wondering if it will ever end.

There are so many things he could or couldn’t do. He could call someone, he could see if there’s somewhere he could go, but that doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t fit. Or he could stay. He could listen to the shouting, he could take in every muffled and clear word, and he could force himself to live with it.

Or he could dig out his AirPods. He could play “Folie à Deux” on full volume to drown out everything, he could scribble across an empty page in charcoal until his hands are black, covered in the remnants of what could’ve been art, or he could…

There’s nothing else. There’s no one but him, nothing but him.

He lies on his side, but his head spins. It hurts like his chest hurts, and he wants to stop it, wants to make it go away, to make everything go away, but he’s here again, in an apartment in New York with parents who shout and scream and say they love each other even though it’s obvious that they don’t, and TK doesn’t know how much longer he can deal with—

His phone rings. It’s loud and borderline crass, slicing through the silence he swears didn’t exist a minute ago, and he picks it up, pulls it from his pocket and answers without glancing at the caller ID.

It can’t be anyone. No one cares about him.

“Ty, hey, babe, I’m sorry to bother you when I know you’re busy, but do you have a sec?”

The voice is familiar, so beautifully familiar, and TK wants to cry. There are tears in his eyes anyway, but he finds them falling, feels one hot tear roll down his cheek, then another. And he hates it, but he doesn’t, he doesn’t because it’s real even if he’s weak, and he doesn’t say a word, but the voice, but Carlos, continues like he did.

“I’ll be quick, I promise. It’s just, um, you know that new Doctor Who episode on soon? Well, babe, the first reviews are out, and I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but can you believe what some of them are saying? It’s so good, babe, and…”

TK just listens. He’s not sure he processes all of the words, but Carlos, his beautiful, perfect Carlos, rambles about his favorite British show they both now share together. He talks about reviews and monsters, and he sounds so goddamn excited, excited enough that he just had to call TK and tell him even though they’re hundreds of miles apart and in a different timezone, and TK just wants to sob because he’s not back there, he’s not. He’s in New York, sure, but his heart lies in Austin with someone who loves him so much that he wants to share every piece of news, exciting or otherwise, with him. He’s not alone, and he never will be when he has Carlos, and he forgot, his stupid goddamn brain betrayed him and made him forget for a moment when he has so much good in his life.

“Ty? Are you still there?” Carlos asks after a minute or two, and all TK can do is let out a breath. “Tyler?”

“I love you so much,” he blurts out, like he can’t hold it back. “I’m sorry, I—I just love you.”

“I love you, too. Hey.” He pauses, and TK imagines that if they were together, Carlos would duck his head and look up until he catches TK’s gaze, and TK would give it to him like he can’t help it. “Are you okay, babe? You sound like you’ve been… crying?”

He lets out another breath as he wipes at his eyes. “Yeah, I—” Before anything else comes out, he closes his mouth. It feels dry and heavy, and he could really do with a drink of water, but he can’t bring himself to go back out there yet. Instead, he focuses on Carlos, on the fact he has Carlos, and so long as he needs him today, he’s certain Carlos won’t be going anywhere. “Something happened,” he admits. “You called right when I… when I needed you.”

“Oh, baby,” Carlos murmurs. “Like I knew, right?”

“Like you knew,” he echoes. “You’re always there when I need you.”

“It’s because we’re connected, Ty. I didn’t know, but I must’ve sensed it because I knew I just had to call you.”

“Soulmates,” TK murmurs, partly to himself. He sniffs with it, more tears forming, but he shakes his head as he sits upright, leaning his back against the wall. At the same time, he looks down at his red thread bracelet, and maybe it’s all kinds of stupid, but it comforts him, so he repeats, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby, but what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Yeah, TK thinks. Too f*cking much.

Except, when he really thinks about it, he’s not sure that’s true. Everything feels like a lot, but compared to before, it’s just a drop in the ocean. And he knows better than to compare his past to his present, but when it all felt so achingly familiar from back before, it’s impossible not to think about back then, about who he was and how he was. He guesses the beauty of comparison is realizing how far you’ve come. Because he has. Some days, it might not feel like that. Today, momentarily, when Austin was nothing but a distant dream in his mind, he was back there, but his reality is far from that.

Maybe it will always take him extra time to remember that. Maybe it won’t.

“My parents,” he says vaguely. “They just—they think they can act like they did before and it not affect me.” He scoffs, running his hand over his face. “I had a go at them, Carlos, and they’ve been quiet ever since, but maybe I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, sighing.

“TK?”

“Maybe it wasn’t my place.”

“What did you do, babe?”

“They were yelling at each other, so I yelled at them.” He accompanies it with a laugh, nothing but a quiet huff, void of any humor. “I just want them to act like adults, Carlos. How hard is it? I mean, they’ll be living together in Austin from tomorrow, and I—”

“TK,” Carlos interrupts. “Can I please tell you how proud I am of you now?”

He hums in confusion. “Proud?”

“Yes. I’m so proud of you. You stood up to them, baby. That takes a lot of guts.”

He shrugs, aware Carlos can’t see him. “I just wanted them to stop.”

“You did the right thing, you know. They’ll have to listen to you, to put you first for once, and I am so proud of you, Tyler. You have no idea.”

TK waits for a beat. It’s still quiet outside of his room, and yeah, he thinks, maybe he did have to. Because Carlos is right; they need to listen to him and realize what their arguing does to him, and the longer he hides away how it makes him feel, the longer they’ll keep on doing it.

Then, he whispers, “What if it doesn’t work back at home? What if they keep arguing?”

“I’ll be there,” Carlos promises. “We can come back to mine or go to the diner, anywhere you want, Ty. I’ll support you however I can, and if it’s really bad, baby, I’ll tell them to f*ck off.”

TK goes from being on the verge of tears again to laughing out loud. It’s an unexpected, barking laugh that he feels right down to his stomach, a laugh he needed more than anything, and if he didn’t know better, he’d believe that Carlos did it on purpose.

Then again, maybe he did.

“I will!” he insists, higher-pitched and chuckling. “You can laugh all you want, but I will.”

His laughter trails off into a breath. “Yeah, I would love to see that, babe. You’ve only just started calling my dad by his name. And there’s my mom, too, so…”

“Semantics.”

“Semantics,” he agrees. “But seriously, Carlos, I—”

“I am being serious!”

He smiles to himself. “I know, but more seriously, babe, I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

“Then don’t,” Carlos murmurs. “I love you, and I’ll do anything for you, okay?”

“I love you, too,” TK replies. “And the same goes. Always.”

He creeps out of his room almost a half hour later.

Truthfully, he’s feeling a bit better already thanks to Carlos, especially now he’s reminded himself he’s not back eighteen months ago, and on top of that, there hasn’t been any shouting since he stopped his parents in their tracks. He thinks he’s ready to emerge now, too, ready to face them with confidence, hoping that they can all act like adults.

Except, as he pads toward the kitchen, he only finds his dad sitting on the sofa.

“Oh, hey, son,” he says with a smile. He pats the space next to him. “Come and sit.”

Nodding, TK moves slowly toward him. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’s gone to Spring Street. She’s treating us all to Chinese takeout for dinner.”

He nods again, careful to leave a gap between him and his dad as he sits down. “Are things okay now? I didn’t hear any more shouting…”

“Better,” Owen confirms. “Look, TK, your mother and I are truly sorry. We—”

“Dad, don’t.”

“But we—”

He cuts him off again. “Please, don’t. I know you’re sorry, but when it keeps happening, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Owen looks at him and nods once. “Your mom and I aren’t together for a reason, son, and when we both have a lot going on, we take it out on each other.” TK goes to interrupt, but Owen holds his hand up. “I know, I know it’s no excuse, but let me explain, okay?”

TK sighs. “Okay.”

“Your mom is stressed with the move. She’s leaving her home, her whole life, and she’s having problems with the new office in Dallas already.”

“I know that.”

“And I have a few issues at the firehouse that are getting to me, so put us together and…” He mimics an explosion. “But we need to learn how to stop that. For you, and for us. It’s not fair on any of us.”

“You do, Dad. And it’s not—it’s not healthy for any of us either.”

“We’re trying, son.”

TK sends him a sad smile. “I know you are. But please just, I don’t know, try talking before you should.”

Owen smiles right back, hooking an arm over his shoulder and pulling him closer. With the other hand, he ruffles his hair, and TK can’t control his giggling. “When did you get so wise, hm? My son is growing up.”

He continues wriggling, trying to worm his way out of his dad’s grip, but when he does so, his laughter trails off. “I just want us all to be happy, Dad,” he admits.

“And we will be.”

TK hopes so. He really, really hopes so.

“To us, and to New York City,” his mom says, holding up her glass of wine with the Spring Street Chinese takeout laid out in front of them. Owen clinks his own to Gwyn’s, and TK lifts his glass of water to meet both of theirs.

“To us, and to New York City,” he echoes. One last time.