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 Posted: Fri Nov 13, 2015 5:03 pm
( backdated to September )
His relationship with Fritz was not quite up to what it had once been, but Tolliver was extraordinarily grateful for the chance to hang out with him, anyway. It was less to do with the awkward tension between them and more to do with the aching desire to have his brother back, and Fritz was definitely trying to make amends, even if his attempts were a little stuttered and slow. But it was the attempt in the first place that Tolliver appreciated, even if it was slow going, and the relief and the happiness often showed on his face nowadays, magnified by his growing adoration of Hitch.
It grew every day, stronger and more all-encompassing than ever, and his lover had become a permanent, wonderful feature in Tolliver’s life, something he’d come to depend on, need, crave like a drug. He didn’t go out much, but when he did, the idea of coming home to Hitch - or even just their apartment, if Hitch wasn’t home - was enough to make him practically giddy with happiness.
It wouldn’t last forever. He wanted it to, but wanting did not equate to being.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come back and watch a movie with me?”
Fritz was leaning over in his seat, seatbelt straining as he grinned through the passenger side window at Tolliver, standing just outside of it. “Seriously,” his brother said, waving a hand. “You could come and we can watch Kingsmen again, I know you liked that.”
Tolliver shook his head, a little smile on his face. “I wanted to be back early, see if I can do something special for Hitch while he’s at work.”
Fritz snorted and readjusted himself back normally into his seat, fixing the seatbelt. “You’re such a bloody sap sometimes.”
“I’ll talk with you later,” said Tolliver, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, but he gave a little wave as Fritz pulled away, lingering on the sidewalk for a few seconds to watch him go. Things still weren’t perfect, but at least they were something. They were not falling apart, nor fighting, even if some of the stiffness stayed. Tolliver had faith that things would work out, or at least, an idealistic sense of hope.
He took the stairs slowly, as ever, wincing slightly at his leg - he’d done a bit too much standing today - Tolliver fumbling for his key and finally managing to insert it into the knob and unlock the door, pushing it open and limping inside.
The thick smell of bourbon and cigarette smoke filled his nose, and his brows drew together, Tolliver lifting his head as he awkwardly shuffled the door shut again. He stuck the keys on the side table and padded into the room, glancing around curiously, but Hitch was supposed to be at work, wasn’t he?
“Logan..? Are you home?”
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Hitch hadn’t moved since the incident with the mirror - he didn’t really know how much time had passed since then, just that it was five cigarettes later - still sitting in that same spot just outside the bathroom, his hands in his hair and knees to his chest. When he heard the door, heard the lock click, a surge of subdued, but no less raw panic rushed through him, making his glassy eyes widen. There was only one person that could be, only one person with a key, and it was the last person he wanted to see him right now. But where could he really hide? - by reflex he tucked further into himself, as though by making himself smaller that would somehow make it so his boyfriend, his lover, his everything couldn’t see him.
He made no sound, he didn’t look up, just pulled his knees closer to himself and wrapped his arms over them, burying his face there.
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Just as Tolliver knew how something wasn’t right the moment Hitch had come home bleeding and deathly injured, he knew something was wrong now. The reek of bourbon, and the thick, cloying scent of cigarette smoke was enough to make the anxiety coil in Tolliver’s stomach - two things that he was used to smelling at home, two things he enjoyed smelling at home - but not to this extent. This was something different, something deeper, something -
Wrong.
The apartment was small. Almost too small, even though Tolliver loved every inch of it to pieces, but it meant that there was hardly anywhere for someone to disappear to. He found Hitch easily, crouched outside the bathroom, and something in Tolliver’s heart seemed to twist, seemed to wind itself so tightly it was in danger of snapping.
“Logan?” he said, the panic rising in his voice, and Tolliver dropped everything - his bag, his coat, his cane - where it was, staggering over to his lover and immediately dropping down beside him. His hand reached out automatically, hovered over one of his boyfriend’s knees - but for the first time, Tolliver wasn’t quite sure he was supposed to touch.
“Logan, what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “Are you hurt? Did something happen?”
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Don’t look at me.
More than any other thought in Hitch’s head, that rang the most loudly, the more desperately. Tolliver was still supposed to be gone, supposed to be with Fritz, supposed to be somewhere that Hitch’s ******** - somewhere safe where Hitch couldn’t ******** taint him, couldn’t drag him down with him. His squeezed his eyes shut tight and felt the pressure grow, all the thoughts he didn’t want to have just swirling and buzzing and taunting him and drawing him dangerously dangerously thin, and his knuckles ached quietly to remind him that that wasn’t nearly enough to make up for what kind of a sick ******** person he really was. Tolliver, he’d be able to see it, if he saw him he could see it, no, no -
I’m fine.
Another thing he knew he needed to say, that’d be better to say, that’d be a complete bullshit lie and he knew it and what were the odds that Tolliver would know it too and - he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, the coppery twinge of blood flooding his mouth, desperately trying to will his mind blank, to do anything to escape the tightness in his chest, to do anything, say anything, but nothing was ******** coming out and -
Even as Hitch was drowning in himself, outwardly, nothing changed - he simply didn’t move, didn’t react, didn’t say a single thing.
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The anxiety spiraled in Tolliver’s stomach, twisted upwards into his throat, overtook his words, whatever he was going to say dying on his tongue. He didn’t even know what thoughts were in his head except that the nervous panic was giving away to full blown fear, because Hitch was just sitting here, as still as a rock, unmoving with his arms around his knees and his face hidden from side, hair hanging down on either side.
“Logan,” said Tolliver again, voice thick. “Logan.”
His hovering hand moved, fingers curling against his palm, and Tolliver could feel them starting to shake, his heart hammering so hard in his chest it was almost physically painful. Crouching here like this was making his leg throb, but he couldn’t bring himself to move just yet, Tolliver licking dry lips and swallowing hard.
What’s wrong, what’s happening, why won’t you talk to me, why won’t you look at me -
“Logan,” Tolliver tried once more, and this time he did touch, a hand resting lightly on one of Hitch’s arms. “Logan. Are you okay?”
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He knew that tone in Tolliver’s voice, and the guilt, the pressure, the misery, it all built up higher and higher within him - he wasn’t supposed to be home it wasn’t supposed to be like this why the ******** did he come home don’t be ********’ mad at him this is our home ******** ******** ********> - he didn’t want to do this to him. He didn’t want to be this. He didn’t want to ******** look at himself, he didn’t -
That hand on him, light as it was, burned. It rocked him, shook him, frightened him - and he wanted to tell him yes I’m okay, dig deeper and find the stuff he needed to play it off until he really was okay, like he always did, but there was just too much, too much that’d been building and building and now when a crack finally came he -
“Don’t ********’ touch me!”
It sounded like anger, too much like it had after this first night together, except now the words were slurring together more than they should have been and at the fringes of his voice, frantic hysteria clung like drops of dew.
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It was like a physical slap in the face.
It might as well have been. The words sank into him like shards of glass, shattering against his skin, scraping the surface of Tolliver’s heart as he pulled his hand back as though he’d been burned. He bit back a gasp of pain, of surprise, of devastation, the words choking in his throat, whatever they were supposed to have been. For a few seconds, Tolliver just stared at Hitch, at his lover, eyes doe wide and fearful, the beginnings of a flush steadily creeping across his pale, freckled cheeks.
Don’t ********’ touch me.
Don’t come near me anymore.
Don’t be with me anymore.
He felt as though the walls were closing in on him, thick and claustrophobic and suffocating the very life out of him. Tolliver couldn’t tear his eyes away from his lover, from the tightly wound man sitting on the floor, and the corners of his eyes had begun to burn; he blinked rapidly, hating himself for being so <******** emotional all the time.
“Sorry,” he whispered, both of his hands tucked together, the too-long sleeves of his too-big sweater falling over his fingertips. “I’m sorry.”
The words came out hoarse, too raw. Tolliver pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily.
“D-did you need anything?” he asked tentatively.
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Hitch was aware of what he’d done, and he ******** hated himself for it - his insides twisted and he felt sick again, the same kind of sick he’d left in the ******** toilet, because how ******** dare he do that to Tolliver. The hushed whisper of an apology ripped through him, made him shudder, because his lover didn’t ******** need to - he shouldn’t have apologized, he’d - he hadn’t done a single goddamn thing wrong ********> - his fingers tightened around his knees, and his knuckles burned, and he resisted the sudden urge to press his casted hand against them, because he ******** deserved it, he deserved so much more, he was ******** sick, he was -
He heard the rustle of fabric as Tolliver pushed himself back to his feet, away from him, and even if Hitch should have been relieved, he wasn’t. It just wound him up that much more tightly, because literally and figuratively, he was pushing Tolliver away - and he didn’t want to, he didn’t want him to know but he didn’t want his lover gone, he -
I need you.
Hitch made a soft, strangled kind of sound in the back of his throat, and his shoulders shook, but no words came. No matter how much they both needed them to.
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He saw the shudder, but didn’t know what it meant. Saw the way his fingers gripped his knees, and couldn’t figure it out. There was no explanation that he could have figured out, not just from this simple glance, this look into a side of Hitch he had not seen before, didn’t know about, didn’t understand. And Tolliver stood there, feeling stupid and helpless, his heart falling to pieces in his chest.
Hitch was shorter than him, but Tolliver felt very small, very insignificant standing there in front of him. He dragged in a sharp breath - and then held it again, because the sound from Hitch’s throat was enough to quell some of the desire to run away and bury his face into his pillows, lose himself in silence and sleep. His lover’s shoulders were still trembling, harder this time, and Tolliver could not just walk away, even if every part of him felt raw, on edge.
Slowly Tolliver sank back down in front of Hitch, swallowing hard.
“...Logan?” His voice trembled, cracked at the end, frayed away. He tried again.
“I love you,” Tolliver whispered, and it was almost a question but not quite, his heart in his throat.
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He was back, and Hitch’s stomach twisted again, because as much as he needed Tolliver he didn’t ******** deserve him, this just proved it more than ever, even after he’d hurt him, even after he’d yelled and - and the mirror and - and everything, he couldn’t do a single goddamn thing right, he couldn’t even take care of him, he couldn’t take care of her, he couldn’t - he couldn’t do this anymore.
I love you.
He was so happy to hear it. He choked back bile because he knew he had no ******** place hearing it.
“I don’t ********’ deserve you.” His voice came out dark and fractured, finally, thick with alcohol and misery. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I - I’m sorry, I - you weren’t supposed to be here,” as if that was any explanation for any of this, and his voice was wavering, that touch of hysteria back again.
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He wasn’t sure how much Hitch had had to drink, nor how lucid he actually was. And the sting of his half-hysterical yell was still fresh in Tolliver’s mind, an ache in his chest, but he also remembered that night before, when Hitch had broken down in front of him.
“I’m sorry for when I hurt you - an’ - an’ just remember I don’t want to, it’s the last thing I want, an’ - sometimes I’ll say s**t that’s not me, but - just remember that - try an’ remember the me now. The way we are tonight.”
He hadn’t forgotten. It was still there, still fresh, and even though Tolliver was drowning inside, even though he had no idea what had happened to make Hitch like this, he simply loved him too much to just walk away and leave him while he was in pain.
You weren’t supposed to be here. Another sharp jab into his chest, into his heart. Tolliver took a breath, body shaking, tears still burning his eyes, though none had been shed just yet.
“I’m here now,” Tolliver murmured. “Logan - please - “ There was a note of stark desperation and despair in his voice. “ - please talk to me, what’s wrong, why - why do you think you don’t deserve me?”
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“What’s wrong,” and he spat it more aggressively than he meant to, his head finally snapping up; he didn’t want to be aggressive, he didn’t want to yell, he didn’t - “What isn’t ********’ wrong?!” Spots of red were seeping through messily laid gauze. “I’m s**t, that’s what’s wrong! I don’t - why the ******** are you even still here?!”
Once wall was down, the rest was rapid fire.
His eyes were almost glazed, whether from sheer misery or alcohol, he wasn’t sure which. “I’ve got no ********’ money, I lost my ********’ job, I - I - look at me for ******** sake, LOOK AT ME, I’m - I’m never gonna be anything more than this! Than this ********’ sad excuse of a - than some ********’ loser who can’t do s**t, who can’t - I can’t even hold a goddamn job in a ********’ grocery store, no one else wants to ********’ hire me because my ********’ face is jacked up, the ********’ hospital bill isn’t even ********’ here yet - ”
He dragged his hand over his face, wound his fingers tight into his hair, and rocked. “I treat you like s**t, I am ********’ s**t, I can’t - I can’t - “ His voice cracked, and he hissed in a long breath between his teeth. “You ********’ deserve better than this, Fritz knew it, he saw through me, he knew from the beginning, an’ - an’ - I broke the mirror, an’ I got bourbon in our bed, an’ - why can’t you ********’ see it, Tolli?!” He spat it almost like an accusation. “Why do you ********’ want this?! - WHO THE ******** WOULD WANT THIS?”
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If he’d thought the yell earlier was like a slap to the face, this was like a stab to his chest.
Each word lanced through Tolliver’s heart like scalding fire, like a hot iron slowly pushing its way in through his sternum, snapping and breaking and burning everything in its midst. He was breaking apart from the inside out, collapsing and splintering like shattered wood or glass until there was nothing left but the splinters.
He hadn’t known about the job; hadn’t known he’d lost it, but he knew about the money, knew that it was a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. Tolliver hadn’t told him about the hospital bill, hadn’t really explained about why he’d done what he’d done, because if he was caught - if Hitch ever found out, if anyone ever found out -
-but Hitch was here, and he was yelling at him with that voice of his, with the same voice that promised love and forever and his own heart, and dittos and he’d spat out Tolli like it was sarcastic, like he was just some kid who didn’t understand, would never understand.
Would he ever? Tolliver was shaking so badly he wasn’t even sure he could stand again, let alone sit here, each word slapping him like icy rain against his skin, and he couldn’t hardly breathe because it hurt so much, because he felt like he was dying on the inside with every snapping, snarling word out of his lover’s mouth.
“Do you - “ He choked on the words, Tolliver gasping a little, the only sign that he was barely keeping it all together, but he couldn’t - wouldn’t let Hitch see that.
“I love you,” said Tolliver, in a small, tight voice, a helpless misery in it. “I l-love you, and I don’t - I don’t care about any of that stuff, I’m just in love with you, and I p-promised you forever, but - b-but - “
He couldn’t say it.
He had to say it.
“B-but if you want - if you d-don’t want me anymore, if you - if you really want me to - “
He couldn’t finish, because he didn’t want to leave, he couldn’t, he wasn’t, he couldn’t bear to walk away and leave Hitch like this, no, it couldn’t be this way.
Tolliver’s eyes were glassy.
“Please don’t make me go,” he whispered. “Please, Logan.”
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Hitch sank, and he looked and felt small, slowly shaking his head as he began to retreat back into himself again, his arms curling back around himself. “You’re an idiot, “ and he’d never said anything to Tolliver like that before, not in any way that wasn’t playful, but this was - drunk as he was, this was the first time Tolliver hadn’t understood. And it was because he was never supposed to see it, there was no way he’d really understand, there was no - he was never supposed to see this. “This isn’t about me wanting you gone, you ********. You should want to be gone.”
He couldn’t look at Tolliver. “I’m not good enough for you. I gotta ********’ spell that out again?” There was no heat this time, barely even embers. “You’re the only good thing I ********’ have, an’ I don’t deserve it, I don’t - ********, the only reason I even have you is - “ His breath caught. “Cause Mom’s dead, an’ - an’ if she knew, she’d - it’s like I’m only happy ‘cause she’s dead, I’m happy she’s dead, an’ I - “
His face contorted, twisting, his lips curling, a half-choked sob escaping him as he pressed that face to his knees. “I’m not. I’m not. I swear I’m not.”
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Everything hurt.
Everything hurt and for the first time since his accident, Tolliver almost wished it away. The old familiar desperation rose in his throat, curled at the edges of his mind, but he pushed it away, tamped down on it, tried not to let himself even glance in that direction. But the dismissal - the harsh, unforgiving dismissal and the names and the frustration all bled into Tolliver, ebbing through his veins, and oh how it hurt, how it ached, how it stung.
A few pieces fell into place - ‘Cause Mom’s dead. I’m happy she’s dead.” - but it still wasn’t entirely clear, and Tolliver felt as though he was missing half of the right puzzle pieces to understand the full picture. He didn’t - couldn’t see, and how was he supposed to know what to say when Hitch refused to even let him in, let him see that side of himself that he kept locked away, hidden from sight? Tolliver’s throat was thick, his chest so tight it was painful, and he could feel the edges of an attack coming on, but he tamped down on that too, tried simply to breathe.
It hurt too much to breathe, to think, to exist.
You should want to be gone.
Smack.
He hadn’t meant to - but it was too late to take it back now. The sting of his palm was the only indication that Tolliver had even moved in the first place, because he didn’t remember moving, didn’t remember raising his hand, didn’t remember slapping it across Hitch’s face, because he’d never hit anyone in his life, had never even playfully smacked Fritz, and he’d just -
An apology was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. He doubted it was hard enough to do anything major, after all, Tolliver lacking strength so that it was a sharp sting instead of an actual blow.
“You don’t - you don’t get to tell me how I feel, Logan Hitchcock,” Tolliver whispered, and he lowered his shaking hand unconsciously, the fingers trembling so badly he could hardly keep still. “You don’t get to - to tell me that I should want to be gone, because I don’t, because I bloody promised you forever, and I - I meant it.”
He dragged in a ragged breath.
“You aren’t happy your mother’s dead,” Tolliver said, in a much quieter voice, raw pain ebbing into it. “You wish - you wish she was alive because you love her, but - but I don’t - there’s no way that you would be happy she’s dead, your happiness now is its own - own being, it’s not - “
But he broke off, frustrated, because for the first time, he could not think of what to say to his lover, not one thing.
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The slap surprised him, more for the sound than the sting, and his head snapped with it, his eyes wide - there were tears on his cheeks, and his eyes were rimmed red. He’d cried before Tolliver had come home. Without spitting vitriol and rage to protect himself, it was much more obvious. He brought his gauze laden hand to his cheek, pressing the palm there, not quite looking at Tolliver - although some of the glaze had left his eyes, too.
He didn’t say anything for a long moment after his lover had finished speaking, a neutral expression settling across his face - sad, yes, but otherwise neutral. Slowly, he looked down, his hand falling away.
“I miss her.”
The words ached to say out loud, and felt louder than they were.
“It’s - it was a year - today, “ and it was the first semblance of any explanation he’d given; any real information on his mother’s death besides the fact that she’d been sick and she was no longer with him. “I… she’d hate me, y’know. If she saw me like this. If she saw me happy with you.” He wasn’t crying, not. Hitch was just talking, just - saying things in this hollow voice, his eyes downcast. “I wish she could’ve known you, I - I wish she could’ve - I wish she would’ve given you a chance, I… less than a year an’ I became someone… I can’t even… I can’t even look at her anymore, I just want to… “
He shut his eyes. “I just want to be happy. An’ you make me happy. But she wouldn’t have cared, she would’ve… “
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He regretted the slap as soon as he’d given it, but the apology still didn’t come, not yet, because it wasn’t the right time, and Tolliver wondered if there was even another way for Hitch to be dragged out of his own mind. His palm stung, fingers reddened, but Hitch’s eyes were also red, rimmed around the edges - not evidence of someone crying now, but of someone who had already cried.
Tolliver was the one crying now, Hitch was just sitting there. But Tolliver always cried, regardless.
And steadily, slowly, the pieces were being put together, from the simple I miss her to the rest of what he was saying, and a steady sense of guilt and horror and shame at his own selfishness ebbed into Tolliver’s consciousness. He tried to push it all away, but it still ate at him, because he hadn’t known, hadn’t seen, had tried to put the focus on himself and not on his achingly sad, empty lover.
He didn’t even know what to say to that. Tolliver’s own parents were unaware of his son’s preferences, and he wondered distantly if they would react similarly to Hitch’s mother if they learned he was not only gay, but also living with his boyfriend. Words and what-ifs ran through Tolliver’s mind like a confusing waterfall of images, and he felt heat on his cheeks, blinking rapidly to dispel some of the tears.
“Logan, I’m sorry,” he said softly, and it wasn’t for the slap still, but for the rest. “But - “
And he wondered if Hitch would hate him for this, if he would remind him that he had no idea, that he had no clue at all about anything.
“She never got a chance to - to see you the way you are, th-that’s true,” Tolliver said hoarsely, fumbling for the right thing to say. “But you - you loving me - “ Please let that still be true, please, please. “ - that’s - not because you’re - you’re happy she’s dead, don’t feel guilty about - about loving me now, because it’s what - it makes you happy, you’re not - you’re not tainting your memory, you’re just - moving forward.”
And he knew it was probably lame advice, because Hitch just looked so very hollow. Tolliver shut his eyes briefly, wondering if he was even doing the right thing.
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Hitch listened to him, and felt a twist of guilt fresh when he saw the tears in Tolliver’s eyes, because he ******** hated making him cry, more than anything - he never wanted to be the source of his tears, never wanted to hurt him, and he had, he’d - his head fell back and hit the wall behind him with a dull thud, his eyes closed and his hand pressed to his face.
“How?” There was no anger, not now; he’d spent it, defensively, but Tolliver had broken through that. Now he was just still there, exhausted in every sense, caught somewhere between drunkenness and sobering thoughts. “How do I - I’m sorry, “ he breathed out, because it wasn’t really a fair question to ask. It wasn’t fair to put onto Tolliver how he should move past something when Tolliver hadn’t been in that place, when Tolliver had his own s**t to deal with, when - “I’m just - I’ve been tryin’ to do my best, Tolli, I’ve been tryin’ but… I’m so ********’ tired. I’m so - I’m so ********’ - I’m not happy. I mean, not - not with you - I’m happy with you, “ and he made sure to backtrack that real fast; no matter what state he was in, he knew how Tolliver worked, knew how he’d take that. “When I say you’re all I got, I - I ********’ mean that, I really, really do, I - “
His fingers slid through his hair, tugging at the strands, his frustration and misery that he always kept at bay with a smirk written all over his face; it made him look much older than he was. “Mom lived like this too, strugglin’ an’ fightin’ an’ - maybe I’m just not as strong as - it doesn’t even feel like she’s gone - it didn’t ********’ feel real then, it doesn’t ********’ feel real now, like - I lost her voice with my phone, I - “
He laughed shortly, harshly, and it was less of a laugh than it was a choking half-sob. He’d already cried himself out, bone dry. But more wanted to come. He’d never really let himself before. Never allowed himself a damned tear until Tolliver. “I don’t even know what I’m ********’ sayin’, I - “
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He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or more concerned about the lack of emotion now in Hitch’s voice. Was it better or worse that he’d stopped shouting angrily and was now sitting there like the broken shell of a man, withdrawn into himself? Tolliver felt his heart throb painfully in his chest, weighing in him like lead.
And that was the problem. He didn’t know[/i how. The idea that he couldn’t help Hitch, that he could do nothing more than sit here beside him, longing to do [isomething ate away at him, Tolliver sucking in a sharp breath that rattled in his throat. He tried to stay calm - and the not happy comment, briefly, made his eyes widen, fresh tears gathering at the corners of his before Hitch backtracked, and Tolliver blinked rapidly, trying to dispel them again.
In a way, maybe, he’d known this. Not everything exactly, but the weariness, the attempts to hide everything behind a smirk, the deflections that always came, turning everything back to Tolliver instead of himself. He’d never asked about Hitch’s past except for that one night, and even then he hadn’t heard the whole story, didn’t know the extent to which Hitch had been struggling, day by day, just to get through, just to live.
He reached out, stopped, hesitated, and then reached out again, Tolliver’s teeth sinking into his lower lip as very tentatively he laid his hand very gently against the side of Hitch’s face. His fingers smoothed up to his hair, landing in the salt and pepper strands, and very very lightly, tenderly, stroked through them.
“I’m sorry,” Tolliver whispered, and it wasn’t for the touching, but for everything he couldn’t fix, all the pain and the heartache and the sadness and the devastation that had sunk bone deep into Hitch, deep enough to make its residence there, taking ahold of him. “Logan I’m so - I’m so sorry.”
His fingers lingered briefly against the swell of Hitch’s cheek, where he’d slapped him, shame reddening Tolliver’s own face before he made to pull them away again, his heart hammering in his chest.
“What do you want to do?” Tolliver asked, taking a deep, steadying breath. “What can I do, Logan?”
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This time, there was no anger or tension when Tolliver touched him; even if Hitch was still ashamed, even if he hadn’t wanted this for his lover, it was what it was now, and even if he’d snapped before, he desperately needed this right now. These touches, these little shows of adoration and love. He tilted his head towards Tolliver’s fingers like a flower reaching for the sun, his eyelids fluttering, his lips pursed.
What did he want to do? - the darkest shades of him, the worst of him, whispered options he didn’t want to hear. Tolliver needed him, he didn’t - he didn’t need that. Not after what he’d been through, what Fritz had told him. (Maybe it was pathetic that that was his best defense, but it was no less true.) “Just… stay, please, “ he half-whispered, and looked at him, actually looked for the first time. “There’s not a goddamn thing I can do, there’s - this is just - this is all there is for me, “ and he really, genuinely believed that. He was going to work and grind every day until the day he ******** died, one way or another, whether it was through sickness or exhaustion or just life as Eurydike. This was all he was good for, this was all he’d ever amount to. “You’re better than this, so much better, but I - I really need you, “ and he’d said it so many times before, but did Tolliver ever actually understand how much? How achingly true it was?
He should know, some other part of Hitch said, and this was less the darkness and more just honesty. He’d told Hitch so much, and Fritz had filled in some of the rest, and - shouldn’t he know what he was actually getting himself into? The hole that Hitch was actually in? It was a thought he’d had before, but he’d wanted to badly just to hold it alone, just keep it a secret, just - “Just, before you promise me anythin’, Tolli - I gotta - there’s somethin’ I gotta - I should’ve told you - I - you’ve been livin’ here too, an’ I never - “
They’d only talked about money once, briefly, that time in the bathroom; that had been the only time. Maybe it was the bourbon talking, but - Hitch felt more strongly now than ever, Tolliver should ******** know. His face burned with shame, and his gaze dropped again.
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The slight tilt of Hitch’s head into his hand eased some of the fear and despair in Tolliver’s own heart, and he strengthened it, just a little, daring to press a little more warmly against his lover’s face, fingers sliding across his cheek in soft ministrations. They moved up to his temple at the request, which felt like warmth in his chest, and Tolliver gave a nod, tenderly smoothing the tips of his fingers across his lover’s brow.
“I’ll stay,” he whispered, and there had never been anything more true. I will stay forever if you let me. Tolliver drew in a little breath, and offered Hitch a watery, not happy smile, but the faintest quirk of his lips upwards. “I promised you forever, didn’t I? Forever and always.”
But the pain and loss in Hitch’s eyes when he looked at him, it hurt, not because it was directed at him, because it was something that he’d been wallowing in, lost in, drowning in for so long. And Tolliver wondered how many nights he’d lain there, dredged in his own thoughts, trying not to wake him because he hadn’t wanted to worry him, hadn’t wanted to pull up this part of himself, locking it away instead and dealing with it on his own.
Tolliver gave a little nod, but the anxiety had crept back into his stomach, coiling up around his heart and his throat.
“What is it?” he asked softly, fingers still gentle against his lover’s temple.
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Posted: Fri Nov 13, 2015 5:17 pm
He selfishly took solace in that, in every little touch and caress, the tiniest hint of light coming back into his eyes at his words, his touches, his attempt at a smile for Hitch’s sake that he really didn’t deserve. “Please, don’t… “ He trailed off, because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say before he gave Tolliver more of the truth. Please don’t hate him? Please don’t leave him? Please don’t judge him? Please don’t pity him.
In the end, his shoulders just sagged as though exhausted, and he was very much that - with one hand, the bloodied one, he pointed across the room. “Behind that picture of me an’ Mom, there’s - there’s a box there. I didn’t want… ” He trailed off again, his hand dropping and his arms wrapping around himself, as though he were trying to regain some semblance of pride, though he was really more just protecting himself, his eyes averted to the floor again.
It was, in fact, a simple shoebox - full of bills labeled ‘Minerva Hitchcock’. Credit cards, private loans from school, so many different things, all things his mother had meant to lead to a better life for her son one day. She’d just left too soon was all.
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His hand hesitated, just a little, at the don’t, but Tolliver knew instinctively it wasn’t meant for him. He smoothed his hand over his lover’s hair, gently and tenderly, and tried to reign in some of the anxiety that was building in his throat.
His fingers fell away at the mention of the box, and Tolliver gave a little nod, easing himself up. He padded over and gently nudged the picture aside, trying hard not to look at it too much, pulling out the box that Hitch had indicated. He didn’t open it yet; instead, Tolliver made his way back over to Hitch and sat down beside him, wincing a little as he put too much pressure on his leg.
With trembling fingers, he pulled the lid off, wondering what he was to expect on the other side of it, what secrets Hitch had buried away. But it became clear relatively fast; Tolliver’s shaking hands sorted through the multiple bills and letters, and the pieces were now snapping into place to form a terrible picture inside of his head.
The run-down apartment, lack of electronics, save for his phone. The constant look of fleeting worry every time they went out to eat. The concern over that night in the hotel, about spending too much on me. Hitch’s violent reactions to missing work, both after their first night together and when he’d been in the hospital, and right before, the howl of pain and misery at even having to go in the first place.
Tolliver’s face felt damp.
“Oh, Logan,” he said, voice very small. “Logan, why didn’t you - why didn’t you tell me?”
Not because he’d sweep in and make everything better, but because he could have maybe tried to understand, to be more conscious of the fact that Hitch was struggling, drowning, and meanwhile - meanwhile Tolliver had not worked, had stayed here in his apartment without paying rent, had done nothing at all except essentially let Hitch wait on him hand and foot.
The guilt burned through him, hot and shameful.
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Hitch had been looking away, and when Tolliver came back, he kept his head turned and just flat out shut his eyes. He hated that he had to do this, he wished he could just keep it together, but - but he had to, and some part of him said that this was long, long overdue.
The way Tolliver whispered that words made him think that part of him might have been right.
“I didn’t - “ Hitch’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, trying to fight back against fresh burning beneath his eyelids. His cheeks were still red, deeply and profoundly ashamed. “I didn’t wanna - I’ve always - we’ve always done it ourselves, an’ - our relationship, we - we were so new, an’ I didn’t wanna - this isn’t somethin’ I wanted you to - it’s not your burden.” He slid a hand through his hair and let his head fall back against the wall again, exhaling a shuddering sigh. “I didn’t wanna - I didn’t want you to look at me any different, “ and he didn’t even realize it was such an echo of what Tolliver had said to him before confessing the truth of the accident. “Like the others, y’know - oh poor ********’ sap, tough luck for him - I don’t want pity, I don’t ********’ need it, I - “
He pursed his lips and took another shuddering breath, his fingers curling into loose fists. “I should’ve told you though. - it’s not fair I didn’t, I - the ******** am I supposed to ask you to promise me s**t when you didn’t even - it wasn’t ********’ fair, I - I just wished I’d never ********’ have to.” And he said the last part with such anguish, such frustration - Hitch wished somehow it wasn’t there. That it wasn’t his. He didn’t even want it to be his burden to carry, and it was never supposed to be and that just made it all so much worse.
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He put the lid back on the box, because he’d seen all he needed to, hand shaking as he adjusted it to fit properly. Hitch’s words ebbed into him, as painful as glass, but they were familiar - don’t hate me, don’t look at me different, don’t treat me differently, don’t walk away from me - because Tolliver had said them himself, before he’d told Hitch about his accident, about the girl, about everything but the deepest, darkest part of himself that he’d held away, locked in the chest that he kept in his heart.
“I can’t take the burden away from you,” Tolliver said quietly, his voice aching. “But I can - Logan, I can at least help you carry it, just a little. Or I can...I can just be here for you, because I love you - “And his voice splintered, cracked at the end, Tolliver desperately trying to reign in his own emotions.
“You didn’t make me promise anything, I promised you forever because it’s you, because I wanted to,” he said hoarsely, and Tolliver’s fingers clenched around the box, but he knew that it was painful, knew that there wasn’t really anything he could do. This was not a problem he could fix through words of love and gentle caresses, or even his own existence at his lover’s side. This was something that ate away at Hitch, burned through him, leaving behind smoldering remains of ash and loss.
His hand lifted again, trembling fingers soothing through his lover’s hair in a tender gesture.
“I know,” he said softly, painfully. “I know, Logan, and I’m sorry, I’m - I wish I could - but I...I’m so sorry.”
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He tilted his head, again, into the caress, and still didn’t open his eyes to look at him. Instead, he just tilted himself to a side, his head resting against his lover’s shoulder, his cheek resting against the fabric of his shirt. The scent of bourbon still hung heavy on him, along with cigarettes, along with traces of blood and sick. But he was still warm, he was still Hitch, and he just needed this. “You do, “ he said quietly, and his shoulders didn’t shake, his breath didn’t hitch again. But Tolliver would feel hot wetness against his shoulder, a bit at a time, as badly as Hitch wished it wasn’t there at all.
“Thank you, “ he breathed quietly, and even if nothing would really change, even if nothing could be done - at least Tolliver knew, now. At least he wasn’t hiding it from him anymore. There were still more secrets, so many more things left unsaid, but - at least now this wasn’t one of them. And it was a big one, he knew that. It was a big pile of baggage to deal with, and now that Tolliver knew - now that he was still offering forever knowing it all -
“I don’t know what we’re gonna ********’ do when that bill comes, “ the hospital bill, obviously; but at least this time, if anything, miserable as he sounded, at least Hitch had finally said ‘we’.
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His breath ebbed out of him in a ragged sigh of relief that Hitch was not shying away from the contact. Tolliver moved his hand to rest on the other side of his lover’s face, fingers delicately smoothing over his cheek and hair, whatever he could reach of him. He didn’t want to ask about the blood - he had seen Hitch’s knuckles already, and Hitch had mentioned something about a mirror - but the rest was understandable now, the thickness of the bourbon and smoke.
Tolliver turned his head, and his lips pressed into Hitch’s hair, a gentle kiss, cheeks still damp, but he could feel wetness against his shoulder and knew that he was not the only one emotional this time.
“Shh...” he murmured softly. “I’m here, Logan, I’m here.”
He nuzzled into his lover’s hair but Hitch’s next words - even with the we, which made warmth curl in his stomach - sent a hot wave of guilt and shame over him, and his fingers trembled, Tolliver trying desperately to stop them.
“It’ll - it’ll be okay,” he said, his voice strained as he forced it level. “Don’t - we’ll figure it out.”
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He knew; he knew and he was so ******** grateful, so ******** lucky that Tolliver was here, that he’d stay here, that he hadn’t been chased away yet.
What Hitch assumed was that the bill scared Tolliver too, and that’s why his fingers were trembling. Without thinking, with his poorly wrapped hand, he reached out and laced his fingers with his lover’s own. “Yeah. I’m sure we will.” He didn’t sound totally convinced, but he was trying to reassure him. Hitch wanted to be able to comfort him, to make him feel better, especially since this was his fault. If he’d never been so stupid with Cinnabar -
“We should’ve gotten the bill by now, “ he murmured with furrowed brows, trying not to sound frustrated - but he was. How were they supposed to figure it out with nothing to go on? “Maybe I should call ‘em.”
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He gave a little start as Hitch’s curled around his, hesitating only a fraction of a second before he held them tightly, the feel of his lover’s hand making his heart beat a little faster. That, and the gnawing guilt that welled up in him for what he’d done, for what he was still doing, for the danger he was putting not just himself, but Hitch in as well - and he shouldn’t have done it in the first place, but he’d been so desperate -
“No - “ The word came out harsher, more panicked than he intended, Tolliver hastily, frantically trying to cover it up. “No, um, don’t - I wouldn’t worry about calling them, if - if there’s a problem, they would...they would call us - you, right?”
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See, here was the problem. Hitch, by now, had come to be able to read Tolliver very, very well. He was smart, much smarter than he gave himself credit for. So at those little pauses and hitches in his speech, which sounded now less like fear and more like something else, Hitch lifted his head. He didn’t release his lover’s hand, but instead look at him quizzically. “Tolliver?” He didn’t say anything else, because he didn’t really have to, his brow furrowed and a light, concerned frown on his face. His cheeks were still wet with tears.
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Hitch was nothing if not perceptive - something Tolliver had learned very quickly in dealing with him, in learning and growing with him. But what Tolliver was not was a good liar; he had never been able to lie with a straight face, blushing and fumbling awkwardly through every attempt so that it was glaringly, embarrassingly obvious that he was not telling the truth.
And this was one of those times.
Tolliver turned his face away, chest tight enough that it felt almost painful to breathe, and he couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face him -
“Nothing,” he managed to get out. “It’s nothing. Don’t - just - don’t worry about the - the hospital bill yet - please, it’s - it’s fine.”
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“Tolliver St. James.” He reached out and around him to catch his lover’s chin and tried to coerce him, gently, but firmly, into looking back, and the furrow in his brow had only deepened. Because Tolliver never, ever said ‘nothing’ like that when it was really nothing. There was absolutely a ‘something’ there, and he was reacting like this, then it was a whole lot of ‘something’, whatever it was.
Blunt and to the point as ever, he met Tolliver’s eyes and asked simply, not as an accusation but just a simple question, “What did you do Tolli?”
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Even with the gentleness of his voice, Tolliver still jumped, stiffened at the hand on his chin, and he had no choice but to turn his head. His eyes stayed averted, however, because he couldn’t - he couldn’t look at Hitch, he couldn’t bear to see the look of disappointment and anger that would inevitably be on his face when he learned what he’d done.
Because it wasn’t just something that would be easily glossed over, not something that could just be handwaved away.
A breath shuddered out of him.
“I - “ The word broke, eyes red-rimmed as finally Tolliver’s gaze flickered hopelessly back to his lover.
“I l-lied,” he whispered raggedly. “I lied to them.”
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Hitch just stared at him, trying to fit the pieces together - but he’d had a lot to drink, his head was still hazy even if he could still read his lover like a goddamn book, could see the shame etched clear as day across his face, and Hitch just didn’t understand why.
“What do you mean?” he asked, catching Tolliver’s gaze, stroking his line of his jaw with his thumb, like he was trying to coax the words out of him. “What d’ya mean you lied babe? - lied to them about what? Where I lived? Where I worked? - what did you lie about baby?” Now he just sounded worried, and why wouldn’t he be? Just look at his boyfriend.
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The warm fingers against his jaw should not have been there; not after what Tolliver had done. The papers were hidden away, not at Hitch’s, but at Fritz’s, because Tolliver had snuck them out and stuffed them under the mattress of his old bed, far away from where he knew they had any chance of being accidentally found by Hitch. He hadn’t - well, he couldn’t have expected that things would just disappear, because there was no chance of that, he’d have to face the music at some point, but he’d just wanted - just wanted a little more time to figure things out, to try and see if there was a way to get around the system without actually breaking the law -
-but it was too late for that. He’d already crossed the line.
Tolliver’s eyes had welled with tears, and now they spilled over, sliding down his cheeks
“I - I told them - I told them that y-you were m-my h-husband - “ He couldn’t get the words out, tripping, stumbling over them. “S-so that you you w-would be covered b-by m-my insurance, I t-told t-them that w-we’d just g-gotten m-married the d-day before so that’s w-why you weren’t listed y - yet and I just - I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done it, but I was so - I was so desperate for them t-to treat you, for you to l-live, I d-didn’t think - I just - I just did it - “
His eyes were wide and fearful now, panic welling in his stomach, and it clawed up his throat, making his breath stutter, gasps escaping.
“I’ m - I’m sorry - please - please don’t leave me, I’ll - I’ll fix it, I s-swear, I’m sorry - “
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Hitch’s expression remained unchanged throughout any of this, save for the fact that his eyes grew a little wider and the furrow in his brow deepened further and further, until all the premature lines on his face were very much visible.
His chest tightened, because he knew what this meant - Tolliver had broken the law for him. He’d broken the ******** law to try and help him because Hitch had broken down, because he’d been weak, because he’d - Tolliver had just wanted to save him, he’d - how could he do something so stupid for someone as worthless as him -
No no no. This wasn’t the time for that. He had to think, and that was the only thing that changed; glazed over and red-rimmed or not, it was obvious by looking into his eyes that the cogs of his brain were turning furiously, taking in the information, digesting it, turning it over, struggling for a solution.
And really, ultimately, there was only one.
“I am so sorry, “ he breathed out suddenly, finally breaking the silence, “That it’s gotta be this way, Tolli, but - “ His hand left Tolliver’s jaw and cupped his wet cheek, swiping under his lover’s eye with his thumb. And Hitch looked genuinely remorseful, because even if he had thought about it, even if he might want it a little - he hadn’t wanted it to be like this.
“I’m sorry, this isn’t ********’ romantic at all, but - you gotta marry me. As soon as ********’ possible. We’ll say they ******** up the paperwork if anyone asks, that’s why there’s a time gap. - they are not ********’ taking you away from me Tolliver, you ********’ hear me? Not now.” And he got harsh at the end, gritting his teeth, eyes burning.
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He hadn’t even thought about what he was doing until after he’d done it, and then it had been too late to take back. Tolliver’s mind had been much too focused on Hitch lying half dead in that hospital bed, but he knew, somewhere, that it was wrong. That he’d ******** broken the law, that what he’d done - a simple word, a single phrase - could land him in jail, or worse. He had seen what happened to people who cheated the system, and here Tolliver was, doing the exact same thing.
His breath was still coming out in hiccuping gasps, Tolliver unable to subdue them, because now it was here, now it was real, it was out in the open and everything could fall apart now. He was on the verge of something absolutely terrifying, and he couldn’t breathe -
The hand on his cheek, the gentle thumb under his eye -
“What?”
The word fell from his lips before he could stop it, Tolliver staring at Hitch with eyes as round as dinner plates, looking as though he’d been dropped from a great height, completely and utterly winded, because no, Hitch had not just - he had not just said what he’d thought he’d said, he had not just - he couldn’t - no, wait -
“You - “ His brain seemed to have short circuited, Tolliver’s breath coming out faster, all the more ragged. “Wait - no - that’s not - I didn’t think - you - “
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“You thought wrong, whatever you thought, “ he grunted, more curt than he meant to - and then Hitch softened again, sighing as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to his lover’s forehead. (Honestly it was easier for him to act like himself when they weren’t talking about him - if that made any ******** sense.) “I know this isn’t - an’ I promise you, someday, somethin’ better, somethin’ bigger, but - but right now, we gotta - if we leave things as they are now, they’re gonna find out. They’re gonna take you away from me, “ and his voice cracked again at the thought, because it was physically painful to consider.
“That can’t happen. I can’t do this without you anymore, Tolli. You ********’ hear me? I wish you hadn’t, I wish - I wish a lot, but - I know why you - will you do it?” he breathed out, leaning closer to him, his jaw set and brow furrowed. “This is probably the only ********’ way we can fix this. But I gotta know you’re in, babe. You gotta want to, you - will you marry me?” To save yourself, was the unspoken, less romantic part of all that. But it was a proposal, one way or the other, and Hitch had no ******** ring besides the red that rimmed their eyes.
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The lips against his forehead managed to help ease some of Tolliver’s panicking, even if it was just a small gesture. He wondered, briefly, if he’d hurt Hitch by his thinking wrong, but - but the fact that Hitch was saying something like I promise someday, something better and bigger at all, that he’d even - that he wanted to -
He couldn’t let them take him away - he would have, if it meant Hitch was alive and well - but he didn’t want to, didn’t want to be taken away, and he did wish he hadn’t done it, he wished he hadn’t put Hitch in this position, but the both of them in this position. The shame burned through him, eating away, and he couldn’t put this behind them; he’d done this to them, put Hich in this position.
The question, even though it was asked out of necessity, still made Tolliver’s heart clench, made it soar, made him feel hot and cold all over at the same time. He gave a choking sob, head falling forward, his hair brushing over the sides of his face, and Tolliver had never felt so small and so terribly, horribly, ashamed of himself than he did in this moment.
“I’m s - I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice hoarse, pained, aching with regret and yes, love, in spite of everything. “Logan, I’m so - I’m sorry, but...but y-yes. Yes.”
His hands lifted, pressed against his face, fingers curling.
“Yes.”
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“Don’t, “ Hitch growled simply, and this was easier - comforting him was just so much easier than digging himself out of his own holes. He shifted into a squat and eased around to the front of him, facing him now, dragging Tolliver into a clumsy hug. Clumsy, but no less tight, no less loving, fingers lacing into his hair. “Don’t apologize. It was - I know why you did it - I know why, an’ even if I wish - thank you, baby, “ even if he didn’t deserve it, even if - if things were so much more complicated now, it was - it would be okay, and more than okay, it would -
“We’re just - “ He tried to laugh, because he desperately wanted to lift Tolliver’s spirits, badly wanted to give him something good today, just wanted to - “Makin’ forever a more solid deal, s’all. - Logan Hitchcock St. James, right? That’s what we settled on?” Please feel better. Please don’t blame yourself. It was Hitch’s fault, really, it was - if he hadn’t been so desperate, if he hadn’t said anything - stop, no no. This was okay. It didn’t matter why it happened. It was going to be okay.
“OH, wait, wait, wait, “ he suddenly pulled back and scrambled awkwardly to his feet, swaying because damn he’d really had a lot of bourbon and he hadn’t really drunk anything today that wasn’t bourbon even after he’d thrown up and yeah, he was definitely not passing any roadside sobriety tests right now - but he was lucid enough, and he remembered where it was, and -
He fished it out of one of his shelves, holding it triumphantly. “I have a ring! - it’s cheap as hell an’ it’s shaped like a snake, but it was Mom’s, so - watch, it bends an’ s**t, so it might try an’ fall off, but… “ He was walking back, kind of flopping down onto his knees instead of getting eloquently or romantically onto one. But he was trying to make this a little more legit, a little more meaningful than ‘hey let’s not get arrested’.
“So - it’s still yes, right?”
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The clumsy hug startled him, Tolliver’s arms bent in front of him, trapped between the two of them. But it succeeded in pulling his hands away from his face, and he let out a choking sob, burrowing against his lover, his face against his shoulder. His fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, and he was shaking violently, but the sobs were unavoidable in a moment like this.
The gratitude was wrong. He shouldn’t have been grateful, he shouldn’t have been speaking to him so tenderly, not when he’d royally ******** up, not when he’d broken the ******** law. Tolliver let out a watery laugh that was half a sob, muffled against Hitch’s shirt, because yes, that’s what they had jokingly decided on, Logan Hitchcock St. James. But it was supposed to have been a joke, it was supposed to have - not been like this -
Hitch pulling away made him stagger forward a little, Tolliver sinking down to the floor he was already sitting on, his breath ebbing raggedly out of him. He had no idea what Hitch was doing, but he took the time to wipe at his eyes with a too-long sleeve (he really did need to get clothes that actually fit at some point), trying to at least make himself somewhat presentable.
A ring?
He couldn’t help it; another choking half sob, half laugh escaped him, because yes, it was kind of ridiculous, and the ring was not an actual ring, and Hitch was - well, he was kneeling, kind of, but it was endearing even if it was crazy, and his heart kept warring between shame and guilt and pure and simple adoration.
“Yes,” Tolliver got out, through the fingers that were pressed against his mouth, chest heaving. “Yes, it’s a yes.”
His face was stupidly wet, and he couldn’t stop crying, but -
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Hitch laughed with him, because it was too much not to laugh at, and because every laugh was one step further from - from how he’d been when Tolliver came in. He still wasn’t okay. He didn’t know when he’d actually be, if he’d ever actually be, and that part of him wasn’t gone. Just buried again, waiting and biding its time. There was no escaping it, no escaping anything, just like there was no changing what the day was.
He was basically proposing to Tolliver on the anniversary of his mother’s death. What a ******** bittersweet moment it was.
“I’m gonna need your hand then, gorgeous, “ and he went ahead and snatched one without waiting, taking his ring finger and slipping the silly little silver snake onto it - it was too big, but the metal was soft, easy to pinch and bend until it coiled around Tolliver’s finger twice. “She got this in high school, “ he declared, “Some fair thing she went to. Always loved it - so you better take care of it, “ like Tolliver was ever careless with anything but himself, Hitch thought ruefully, but with a fond smile.
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It was nowhere near perfect. In fact, things were entirely ******** up still, and Hitch was still lost to his misery, but all Tolliver wanted right now to focus on the matter at hand, even if he couldn’t avoid everything forever. Inevitably, things would smack them both in the face again, and they would have to deal with it, but -
He gave a choking laugh as Hitch grabbed his hand, and the silly snake was pushed onto his finger. Tolliver stared down at it through glassy eyes, and it looked unfamiliar and strange against the pale, freckled skin of his hand. He made a grasp for Hitch’s fingers after it was on and laced them together, giving a minute shake of his head.
(Would Hitch feel differently once the booze and the haze had worn off? What would happen when they woke up the next morning?)
“I’ll - I’ll take care of it,” Tolliver said, dragging in a breath, and he leaned closer, his free hand sliding around Hitch’s neck, foreheads pressed together. “I promise, Logan I - “
“I love you.”
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Hey, all things taken into account - Hitch’s motor skills might not be up to par exactly, but he was pretty lucid, considering!
He happily squeezed those fingers when they laced with his, then shut his eyes, humming contently now as Tolliver leaned into him, planting a sweet, soft, and absolutely foul kiss on his lips. “We’ll take care of it, “ he reminded gently, opening his eyes again to stare intently at him. “This one, we’re in it together - I promise, “ he whispered warmly, pressing a little closer to him. To his fiance, he guessed. “I love you too baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everythin’, I - but I love you. I really do love you so much.”
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His nose wrinkled at the kiss, and his heart was not quite settled as it should have been, but - but at the same time, the situation had not diminished his love for Hitch. If anything, it had magnified it, to more than it had been before, and Tolliver gave a nod, his hand sliding from Hitch’s neck to rest on the side of his face, smoothing back some of his hair.
“I love you too,” he said softly, fingers sweeping over his temple before cupping his jaw. “And I’m sorry too.”
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Hitch didn’t know if he was going to be okay, if he’d ever really be okay or not. - but as for them, for him and Tolliver was one - “We’re gonna be okay, “ and that much he could say with confidence, kissing him again in spite of his foul breath - maybe a little bit because of it - his fingers winding into his lover’s, his fiance’s, his everything’s hair and rubbing the back of his neck soothingly.
“We’re gonna be okay.”
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