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13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

Greg

Greg closed the slider behind him and reached up to shield his eyes from the early afternoon sunlight. Clouds were moving in from the east, edging up over the top of the mountains and beginning to obscure their view of Mount Si. But the sun was just overhead, and he could still feel its warmth.

Maybe it would rain later.

It was such a mundane thing to think about—the weather. Mundane and normal and easy. And for some weird fleeting second, Greg found himself angry at the clouds and the sun and the heat. Angry at how they could just be when the world around him was spinning out of control.

Allen sat just at the other edge of the patio, resting back against the cushions of their outdoor sectional with his eyes closed. He looked almost relaxed, almost like it was a normal Saturday afternoon. But Greg could see Allen’s chest rising and falling just a little too fast, his jaw held shut with just a little too much tension. His mostly uneaten lunch sat on the patio table in front of him, and his hands were clasped awkwardly in his lap. Definitely not the picture of relaxation.

And Beans was still in protective mode, curled up right at Allen’s feet.

Greg swallowed hard, attempted a smile, and stepped out across the patio to join his husband.

“So, Tina and Joe should have been the last visitors, I think,” Greg said quietly as he lowered himself onto the couch next to Allen.

“That was a lot of people.” Allen shifted until he was leaning up against Greg, his arm coming to rest across Greg’s midsection and his head on Greg’s shoulder.

“Everyone was worried about you, darling.” When Allen didn’t say anything, Greg turned his head to press a gentle kiss into Allen’s hair. “Everyone was worried because they care. Because you’re an important part of this community. Because you matter to them.”

Allen still didn’t respond, but that was okay, Greg knew. He’d heard the words, and Greg would repeat them again and again and again if he had to. He rubbed his hand slowly up and down Allen’s arm and kissed the top of Allen’s head again as his husband settled up against him more with a long sigh that shuddered at the end.

They sat there together for several minutes, the shade provided by their oversized patio umbrella inching closer to the back of the couch as the sun shifted in the sky. Finally, Greg coughed quietly to clear his throat and squeezed Allen’s shoulder lightly.

“How are you feeling? Can I get you something else to eat or drink? Or do you want to go lie down again?” He could predict what each of Allen’s answers would be, and he knew he probably shouldn’t have asked so many questions all at once. Just the first question would probably be difficult enough for Allen to answer. With a gentle shake of his head, he closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of Allen’s head. “Sorry, darling, one thing at a time, huh?”

“Y-yeah, um . . .”

“Take your time, my love. How are you feeling?”

There was a quiet huff, like Allen wanted to laugh but couldn’t quite do it. The hand resting on Greg’s stomach pressed down into him just a little, and he felt as Allen tensed.

“Exhausted. And... detached. And like any effort is too much. Still foggy, like after a migraine. And...”

“And what, darling?”

“Scared,” Allen breathed, the word slightly muffled into Greg’s shirt.

Something sharp seemed to rattle through Greg’s chest at the obvious fear in Allen’s words, and he nodded into his husband and kissed the top of his head again. “I’m here with you. What is it you’re scared of?”

But Allen couldn’t seem to answer, and that was okay too. Greg just held him, sure to let Allen know exactly how much he was loved with the little touches and caresses he knew his husband needed.

When Allen spoke again, his voice had an odd sort of monotone to it. “I should probably just go back upstairs and rest. And then you can get back to your work. I’ve been keeping you from working lately, and I-I’m sorry. I... I mean...”

Greg waited patiently, giving Allen a chance to continue. But his heart ached again, and for a moment, he was reminded of the panic—his own panic. Twice in one week now. Twice in one week, getting a call from someone at the library, telling him to hurry and get there because Allen was not okay.

From his left pocket, he felt Allen’s cell phone buzz, and he frowned. “Hang on, darling,” he said, and he shifted slightly and pulled the phone out of his pocket. There were eight new notifications, all from their group chat with the neighbors. Greg let out a short breath and scrolled through them briefly. It was more of the same—wishing Allen to get well soon. Rest and lots of fluids. And another invitation to the barbeque at Joe’s tomorrow. And a picture of Marcia’s twins smiling, with the caption of “Sending baby smiles and giggles just for you, Allen!”

Greg smiled weakly and turned the phone so Allen could see the screen. “Those two little babies adore you.”

Allen reached out to take the phone with a shaky hand, and when he tilted his head just slightly and a hint of a smile formed on his lips, Greg felt the tiniest bit of hope.

“Will they be there? Tomorrow, at the barbeque?”

“I think so,” Greg said. He took the phone back from Allen gently and scrolled up a bit to the conversation from a day or two ago. “Ah, yep. Marcia is bringing the twins, and she’s making that Jell-O fruit salad you like—with the mandarin oranges and pears.”

“Ahh, yum. Good, I... I hope I’ll have an appetite by then. I’m sorry, I—”

“Shh. Shh, darling.” Greg shoved the phone back into his pocket and then reached up and cupped his husband’s cheek. He brushed his thumb along Allen’s cheekbone as he gently encouraged Allen to look up at him, then he lowered his mouth to capture Allen’s lips in a soft kiss. He lingered there for a moment, letting his lips caress his husband’s, and when Allen pulled back, Greg still held them close, resting his forehead against Allen’s and slipping his hand down lower around to the back of Allen’s neck.

“I know I need to eat, but I... feel nauseous. And tired. Maybe... maybe I’ll just go upstairs again and take a nap or—or something,” Allen said. “But I—” He sighed and pressed a light kiss to Greg’s lips, and it was needy and had some desperation to it this time. “But I don’t want to be alone. And Beans doesn’t really count. So, um, I’ll just stay with you. Whatever you were going to do today. I’ll just...”

Allen’s words trailed off as though he had no more energy to speak, and he took a short but deep breath. The moment felt heavy, and Greg knew why. He wrapped both arms around his husband and held him tightly, letting his hand stroke Allen’s back.

“My only plan today was to spend my time with you,” Greg whispered, and he brushed his lips against Allen’s cheek. “Even before everything, that was my only plan.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Allen said, but there was a hint of playfulness to his tone, and Greg smiled.

“You’re my only plan, my love. I might have considered going out this afternoon—”

“You’d mentioned Seattle.”

“Yeah. But only with you. Only to spend time with you,” Greg murmured, and he pulled back a little to find Allen’s eyes. God, he looked exhausted. Greg brought his hand up again and settled it on Allen’s neck as he bit his lip.

“You know how cheesy that sounds, don’t you, dear?” Allen’s smile flickered very briefly, and Greg’s heart stuttered.

“I do. But I mean every word.” He leaned in again for another kiss, and then he pushed himself to his feet. “They said you need to rest as much as possible today, and you said you want a nap...” Greg took a breath and offered Allen his hand. “How about I’ll grab my laptop so I can edit those photos for that client in Mukilteo, and I’ll lie in bed with you while you rest. Okay?”

Allen’s hand tightened in his, and Greg stepped just a little closer to offer as much support as his husband needed. With a nod, Allen stood slowly, letting Greg help him. Beans jumped up and just out of the way but still stuck to Allen’s side as they made their way into the house and up the stairs.

** *

Greg stared at the photo open on his laptop, trying to focus. The final image for his client needed to be sent out to be printed no later than tomorrow, which normally wouldn’t be a problem. The edits he needed to finish were straightforward—just applying a preset filter and making some final touch-ups. But he couldn’t seem to settle down and get working.

True, he wasn’t used to working while sitting in bed. And Allen’s soft snoring next to him was distracting, though not intrusive.

He glanced down at his husband, whose hand rested lightly on Greg’s thigh. Allen had been sleeping now for at least a couple of hours, though it had taken him some time to fall asleep. And every once in a while, he shifted with a quiet moan or other indistinct sound as though he were uncomfortable or even in pain.

It hurt Greg’s heart.

Especially because he knew how much of that pain he’d caused.

They hadn’t gotten to talk much yet. They’d had visitors and had to make phone calls—both to Allen’s physician and to Dr. Schultz since their decision to wait until Monday didn’t really seem like the best option anymore. And then they’d tried to have lunch, although Allen really hadn’t been able to eat. Greg hadn’t even gotten a chance to apologize to Allen for his behavior that morning or to tell Allen how proud he was and how he’d finally seen exactly what Allen’s kindness had done with the two boys at the library.

And that hurt his heart even more.

He pursed his lips and glanced back at his computer screen. The scene—the photo he was supposed to be editing—was of a waterfall. A small one that he’d found months ago when he’d gone off the main trail somewhere deep in the Mount Rainier wilderness. He’d followed a stream to where it had ended in a quiet pool fed by the small waterfall. It had been secluded and idyllic and serene—a huge contrast to many of the busy trails in the national park. And he’d taken his time, set up his tripod, sat and waited to capture the exact moment as sunlight filtered in through the trees, creating a prism of rainbow colors that danced around in the mist surrounding the ripples of water at the bottom of the falls.

He remembered wishing Allen had been there with him.

And as he stared at the photo now, he wondered just how many of the amazing photos he’d taken over his career had been taken when he was out alone and Allen was home. Just how much time had he made them miss together?

Too much time, he decided. Much too much time.

Yes, he’d gotten amazing photographs, and yes, Allen had supported him and his career, never complaining about him being gone, never asking him to stay home, never expecting anything different of him.

So maybe he shouldn’t be feeling guilty about it all. Allen knew him and loved him for who he was, and that included his need to be out . Out in the forest. Out on the trail. Out seeing the world, exploring, discovering, photographing.

But going forward . . .

Greg reached down and set his hand on top of Allen’s. His husband’s skin was warm, but the slight wrinkles on the back of his hand gave Greg a sense of fragility, thinness, like tissue paper. Easily ripped apart. Allen didn’t wake, which was good—he still needed the rest. But he seemed to let out a long sigh, and Greg smiled sadly to himself as his thumb rubbed along Allen’s knuckles.

Going forward, he wanted things to be different. He wanted more time together with his husband. No more long work trips—like the one Paul had offered him. No more disappearing for days at a time to go off backpacking in the Olympic Wilderness or traversing the local-ish stretch of the PCT. He could get his dose of the forest and the mountains and trails on day hikes or on trips Allen could also make. He could stay close by, be the husband Allen needed him to be, show Allen exactly what he meant every time he said “I love you.”

There was already a pang in his gut as he glanced back at the photograph on the computer screen in front of him. He bit his lip and tabbed to another open window on the laptop. The towering peak of Jack Mountain stood off in the distance of the photo from some hiker’s blog. It was a beast. Not harder than some other mountains he’d climbed, but harder than anything he’d done in a long time.

And a part of him yearned for it still. Even with his new resolve. Even with the knowledge that he wasn’t going to go. He still felt the pull as he studied the photograph for another few seconds. But then, Allen shifted slightly next to him and mumbled something in his sleep, and Greg closed his eyes with a small, sad smile.

He wasn’t really sad, though. He’d done so much, seen so much. And some of that didn’t have to end. It just had to be modified to fit this new phase of his life.

He clicked the x in the corner of the screen, and Jack Mountain disappeared from view. The small waterfall with the rainbow glimmering in the mist popped back up in its place, and Greg smiled again. He could take Allen there. It was a couple of hours to drive there and then maybe two or three miles of easy hiking. No big hills or elevation gain. He could take Allen there and show it to him. And maybe they’d be lucky enough to have the sun peek through the trees, as it had on that day months ago, and he could show Allen this same view—the one Allen hadn’t gotten to see before .

And that would be infinitely better than any solo hike up Jack Mountain. Because he’d be with his husband.

“I love that photo.” Allen’s hand pressed into his thigh a little, and Greg smiled softly as he glanced down. Allen’s eyes were half-open, and he seemed to be studying the image on Greg’s computer. “It’s peaceful. Beautiful. And the colors are just right. Deep and rich and vibrant. I’m sure there’s a word for it that I don’t know. This is the one... you need to get off to the printer by when? Tomorrow?”

Greg lifted Allen’s hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “Yeah. I just need to finish a few adjustments, but”—with his free hand, he closed the laptop and then set it aside—“I can do that all later.”

He watched as Allen gave a small nod, shut his eyes, and then let out a long, shuddering breath. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“A couple hours, about. How are you feeling?”

“Um, I—oof!” Allen’s response was cut off as a wiggly brown ball of coarse fur clambered up onto the bed, climbed right over Allen, and settled in between the two of them, stretching out until he could stick his nose right into Allen’s face. Beans’s little pink tongue started licking Allen’s cheek as the pup wriggled up the bed even more, his tail thumping eagerly. “Beans!” Allen exclaimed, and Greg opened his mouth, ready to scold the dog and send the little furball back to his own bed. But then Allen laughed—the sound deep and hearty—and Greg closed his mouth again as he watched Allen pet Beans, still chuckling, still smiling.

It warmed his aching heart.

“You know that silly dog hasn’t left your side all afternoon, darling,” Greg said quietly as Beans calmed down a bit and rested his head on Allen’s shoulder. Allen opened his eyes again to meet Greg’s. “He’s been lying right next to the bed there the whole time. ”

“Poor thing. Relegated to sleeping on the floor. He’d have been much more comfortable up here on the bed,” Allen teased. There was a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and Greg let out a huff of laughter.

“Ah, yes, the poor, poor neglected dog.”

“Big, bad Greg won’t even let you up on the bed, will he? But I said yes, so now it’s okay, huh?” Allen had turned his attention back to the dog and was scratching the terrier behind his ear. Beans closed his eyes like he was in heaven.

Greg shook his head with another small smile. He let the silence settle between them for just a moment as Beans rolled over onto his back, clearly taking advantage of the freedom he’d been given to be on the bed. Allen dutifully scratched the pup’s belly, and Beans began panting, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

After another couple of minutes, Greg cleared his throat quietly. “You’re feeling a little better?”

Allen’s hand paused on Beans’s belly, and he gave a short nod. “The exhaustion is gone. It was intense earlier. I’m not sure about... about everything else, though. I mean, I’m not sure how I’m feeling about... how we...”

“...left things this morning?” Greg finished for him, shifting on the bed to lie on his side facing Allen. Beans was still between them, but Greg reached over the dog and cupped his husband’s cheek. He wanted a kiss—to reassure both of them, honestly. But Beans was too in the way for that, so he settled for stroking his husband’s cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t like when we argue, and I don’t like how it made me feel this morning. I was already hurting, but I got more upset and angry.” Allen had closed his eyes, maybe unable to look at Greg. But he leaned into Greg’s touch slightly and then inhaled a shuddering breath. And he didn’t seem to want to skirt talking about the hard truths in that moment. “You were right that I shouldn’t have gone in today. No matter how things turned out. I was stubborn about it, trying to ignore how I’ve been drowning. It’s all been too much lately, Greg. It’s all been too much. And I need to be surrounding myself with... people and situations where I feel loved and safe. Not—not pushing myself because I think I have to fix everything for everyone else right away. I need to listen to those I trust—you and Annabeth, both—because I’m obviously a terrible judge of—of what’s good for me right now. Especially with...”

He finally trailed off, his last words having lost all the conviction and sureness of his earlier ones. Beans wriggled a little between them, and Allen opened his eyes, but looked down at the dog, not at Greg.

Greg wasn’t sure whether he should say anything then. Did Allen want to continue, or had he said all he wanted to say? And the same uncertainty Greg had been fighting with all day—a feeling of being lost, ill-equipped to handle this situation—chose that moment to flare again. He let his hand drift slowly down Allen’s neck and shoulder, stopping on the bare skin of his upper arm, just above his elbow. He squeezed gently.

“I was scared this morning, Allen,” he admitted after another moment of silence. “I don’t want to see you hurting, and when you told me that you’d been having dark thoughts—feeling like—like you—” He couldn’t quite say the words, and he shook his head a little, then swallowed tightly. “That scared me. A lot. And I want to be supportive. I really, really do. I saw how much it was doing for those boys—you being there today and showing them your kindness and your vulnerability. I saw what you were trying to convince me of this morning. You were not wrong about that, and I’ll admit I was. But...” Greg’s throat constricted, and he pursed his lips together as he scrunched his eyes shut.

“But I shouldn’t have gone today. ”

Greg shook his head, blinking his eyes back open. Allen was watching him now, and in the dim light of the bedroom, with the shutters closed, his eyes looked dark gray rather than blue. And they were filled with this deep hurt and sadness. Greg saw Allen’s lower jaw tremble slightly.

“I shouldn’t have gone, and I-I’m sorry I put you through all that,” Allen added, his voice now shaking. “I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve been trying to tell myself I’ll be okay, and that everything’s okay, because I need it to be. But I’ve been drowning. Or suffocating. I don’t know. I’m unsure and scared, and then the words in my head, telling me”—he paused and took a deep breath—“that I don’t deserve to live. That everyone would be better off if I weren’t here. That—that—that—”

This time, his pause was accompanied by a shorter breath and some uncomfortable sound in the back of his throat. Greg swallowed hard, gently pushed Beans out of the way, and gathered Allen up in his arms, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “It’s not true, darling. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because, I—” Greg’s words caught, and he shook his head and kissed Allen’s forehead again, holding his husband tightly. “Because I don’t even want to think about living a life without you in it. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Allen Westin. You’re my reason for everything. You’re the most important thing in my life. And I love you and value you and cherish every single moment we’ve been together. All these years, I wouldn’t trade a single moment, even the hard ones. And I... I don’t want to lose you.”

Allen was nodding into Greg’s chest. “I don’t want that either,” he said, his voice low and muffled. He tilted his head back and finally looked Greg in the eye. Greg could see his regret and pain, the battle he was still fighting against himself. “You remember when I first told you about my parents?”

Greg nodded silently and rubbed his hand up and down Allen’s back. He remembered that conversation clearly. It had been early on—maybe too early, looking back on it now. Allen had been having a particularly rough day, although Greg couldn’t remember now why that had been. They’d had a date planned—something simple, like dinner and a movie—but when Greg had arrived at Allen’s to pick him up, he’d found Allen curled up in his bed, the apartment dark and cold. He remembered the moment he’d realized Allen hadn’t been out of bed all day, and he remembered the moment he’d decided to crawl into bed with his then-boyfriend for the first time just so he could hold Allen because he hadn’t a clue what else to do. And he remembered Allen opening up to him then, not about everything—because, god, there was a lot—but about how he’d battled with depression and anxiety most of his life, how his parents had treated him like a burden, taught him to feel ashamed of himself, said he was an inconvenience. Counted down the days until he’d turned eighteen so he would no longer be their responsibility.

He’d since learned how much worse than that it had actually been.

And now, as he lay there, holding his husband and lover and best friend, Greg wondered why he hadn’t realized sooner that Allen had probably been having suicidal ideations for a long, long time. It fit. And it was scary as hell to him, especially if it was getting worse.

“I was so scared to tell you all that,” Allen continued. “I was so worried, you seeing me like that, finding out how much... work I’d be... I was so scared you were going to leave. But it—but I figured it was better to have it end sooner, if you were going to leave. You didn’t, though. You—you did the thing I never thought anyone would ever do for me.”

“Which was . . . ?”

“You stayed.” Allen let out a huff of warm air as he buried his head into Greg’s chest, and Greg instinctively tightened his arms around his husband. “You stayed, and instead of being mad or telling me to get over it or trying to get me up and make me go out when I was feeling so low, you cooked us dinner at home. And you went and rented us a movie to watch at home. And you were just there with me. You even—gosh, you even brought those donuts the next morning, do you remember? That was what I needed. You to just be there for me. Then and now. Thank you for staying, Greg. And thank you for reminding me... why I need to keep fighting those words in my head. It’s really hard sometimes. It’s really, really hard. Especially this week.”

Greg rested his cheek against the top of Allen’s head as the quiet settled around them. It was a comfortable quiet, though, and Allen seemed to relax slowly, the tension that had gathered in his shoulders fading. It was several minutes later when a familiar whine broke the silence, followed by a series of barely contained whimper-barks. Allen let out a sharp breath that might have been a laugh, and Greg lifted his head off his pillow to see Beans’s muzzle resting just on the edge of the bed. The rhythmic thump of his tail wagging accompanied another low whine that turned into a bark.

“He wants to cuddle again, dear,” Allen said, pressing his hand into Greg’s chest. Greg looked down at Allen to see amusement in his husband’s gentle eyes. “You can’t deny him that, can you?”

Greg laughed and rolled his eyes, then shook his head. “Get on up here, you silly dog,” he said, patting the bed. The dog leapt up, not wasting any time, and after several minutes of cuddly pets and belly rubs, Beans settled down at the foot of the bed, curled up into a ball .

And Allen snuggled up in his spot again in Greg’s arms. Greg planted another kiss in Allen’s hair.

“Let me love you again tonight, Allen,” he said softly. “Let me cook you dinner and hold you while we watch a movie. Let me take care of you. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.” He didn’t necessarily mean making love, that would be up to Allen, and he was sure Allen knew that. He touched Allen’s cheek and gently tilted his husband’s head back, and then Greg placed the lightest of kisses on Allen’s lips. “Can I do that for you? Because I love you.”

Allen nodded and settled his head back on Greg’s shoulder. “I love you too.”

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