Touch - 1. Touch

TOUCH

When the doorbell rang, Brian looked up from his work, heart beating too fast. He got up, joints creaking and popping, and hurried to pull open the front door. The slight hope that had been warming his chest crumpled and died when he saw the familiar redhead standing on the front porch.

"Hey," Timothy said. He looked awkward and uncomfortable, holding a bag in one hand from a nearby wing restaurant.

"Hey," Brian greeted in return. His lips felt cold and numb as he forced the words out.

"Not the person you were wanting to see, I know," Timothy said.

Brian had to clear his throat to get the next words out. "What do you want?"

"Uh...can I come in?" Timothy asked, grinning self-consciously.

Brian didn't want to let him in; he wanted Timothy to go away so he could bury himself back in work, which was safe and familiar, but couldn't bring himself to say so. Not with Timothy.

Brian stepped back and allowed him inside.

"Well," Timothy started, "I was ordering takeout at the wing place and they gave me too many, but I didn't realize it until I had already left and I figured--"

"Tim, if Eric sent you over to check on me, just say so," Brian interrupted.

Timothy’s grin turned sheepish. "If I said that, you wouldn't let me in."

"Correct." Brian crossed his arms and glowered. "If Eric was so worried about me, he could have come by to check on me himself. Instead, he sends his little brother with some flimsy excuse--"

"Hey, hey, whoa," Timothy held up the hand not holding the wings. "Okay, Eric is worried about you, but I came over because I wanted to. Besides, we miss you. And I do have a few too many wings and would love someone to share them with. So stop being an ass."

He held out the bag again and the aroma rising up from the inside of it, along with Timothy's hopeful look, knocked down Brian's defenses. He probably did need to eat, and he knew Timothy liked hanging out with them and it wasn't Timothy's fault that Eric cheated on him.

And hell, maybe Brian did miss hanging out with him a little bit.

He waved Timothy to follow and headed into the kitchen. "You want a beer?" Brian asked, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle.

"Sure," Timothy replied, easy-going as ever. He deposited the bag on the table and started unpacking the boxes as Brian pulled out some plates.

He noticed that Timothy's overabundance of wings were also his favorite flavor. Sneaky.

"So..." Timothy asked, piling his plate up with wings, celery, and drowning the entire thing in an unhealthy amount of ranch dressing. "How do you like the new place?"

"Better than the old place," Brian said. This place didn't have a side of cheating fiancé. He pulled a couple of wings onto his plate. He took a bite of one, the rich flavor of the sauce exploding across his tongue and realized how famished he was. He tore into the wings hungrily. He realized about five wings later that Timothy was quiet, a rare event, and glanced up.

Timothy smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"Hungry?"

Brian shrugged and grabbed another wing.

"My parents have been asking after you," Timothy continued. Brian smiled at that. He missed Eric's parents too. He got along well with his own parents, but they lived several states away and Eric's parents had welcomed him in like one of their own. Brian missed seeing them. He missed talking to Eric's father about business and sports, both things that Eric had little interest in, and missed Grace's cooking. Another thing that Eric's infidelity had taken from him.

The silence stretched out between them, pregnant and uncomfortable. It had never been like this before, Brian mused. Timothy had always brought out the best in everyone, making people laugh and join in with whatever was going on. Had been there many nights hanging out with Eric when Brian had gotten home, joined them for movies, board game nights, football games. It was another thing Eric had had ruined, the tight insular unit the three of them had been.

"How is work?" he finally asked, deciding it to be a safe topic, far away from Eric, their failed relationship and the shattered remnants of his and Timothy's friendship, which the other boy was obviously trying to rebuild.

"Cool!" Timothy replied, brightening noticeably. "I'm doing a paddle boarding lesson at the park tomorrow, then taking a group hiking up in the mountains. You should come!"

Brian shrugged noncommittally. He had always been too busy with work to do a lot of exercise, and now that Eric was gone it was his lack of appetite keeping him thin, not physical activity. A hike in the mid-afternoon heat, even up in the mountains where it was cooler, sounded awful to him.

Timothy on the other hand, lived, breathed and worked outdoor sports and it showed. He was trim, toned and tan and could probably run in circles around him. Could probably run circles around Eric as well, who had been getting plenty of exercise fucking other men in their bed.

Timothy eventually finished his wings and left after a couple of beers, cheerfully calling for Brian to give him a call and hang out sometime.

But Brian had other plans. Continue with his empty life, consumed with work, until it became his new normal. Refuse to miss Eric, sweet, kind, intelligent Eric with his dark blue laughing eyes and his spun-gold hair. Eric, who would cook dinner every night and greet him with a kiss, who would snuggle so sweetly into his side at the movies, who moaned underneath him at night while Brian mapped his body with his mouth.

Who was caught with another man, in their bed, when Brian surprised him one day by coming home early from a business trip with flowers and wine for a romantic evening.

The ensuing fight was so loud that concerned neighbors had called the police. Eric's lover, a skinny, dark-haired youth who didn't even look old enough to drink, had dressed and scampered off in record time while Eric unsuccessfully tried to placate Brian. When that didn't work, Eric resorted to tears and pleading for forgiveness. When that failed, Eric got nasty, revealing a side of him that Brian didn't even know existed. He had thrown a list of ugly accusations at him, each more hurtful than the last: that he was emotionally unavailable, that Brian loved his work more than him, that Brian didn't love him at all. That he had found another lover because Brian was that bad in bed, and finally that he was planning on marrying him just to bleed him dry and then divorce him.

When the police had shown up, Brian’s anger had deflated under the painful barbs that Eric had been barraging him with and he ended up leaving with them and driving around aimlessly for hours.

When he returned the next morning, Eric was gone. Feeling petty and spiteful, he had taken his belongings and broken the lease, knowing full well that Eric had no way to afford their classy expensive apartment on his own and found a new place to live. After that he had hired movers to move all of the furniture and heavy items, things that Brian had bought for both of them. Except their bed. Brian couldn't bear the sight of it anymore.

All of that should have driven a wedge between him and Timothy, who idolized his older brother. Instead, the other boy seemed determined to remain a fixture in his life. After that first night sharing wings and several beers, he would show up at Brian's house, often with beer or food in tow, then eventually started to entice him out to try new restaurants, music festivals, pubs. It was obvious that Timothy didn't want to let go of the tenuous connection that Eric had given them.

And Brian, having lost most of his friends with the breakup and the ensuing social isolation, was slowly starting to get used to his company. As long as Timothy didn't try to take him rock climbing or hiking, he was fine with the company.

* * *        

"C'mon," Timothy urged him. "It's not too much further to the top."

Brian groaned, leaning against one of the large boulders lining the trail. His legs were aching, his chest tight, and he was breathing in short, labored gasps, the sweat on his flesh turning his clothing into a damp, clammy second skin. Timothy, on the other hand, was loping along easily on his long legs, carrying a backpack that was heavy with water, food, and who knew what else, and wasn't even the slightest bit out of breath.

Brian reluctantly pushed himself away from the boulder and plodded along after Timothy as he climbed up another set of steep stairs set against the mountain wall. Who the hell had decided the mountains needed stairs? Like they weren't already hard enough to climb.

A few minutes later, Timothy obviously took pity on him, suggesting a break for some water. Brian gulped his eagerly, his throat dry from his labored breathing and instantly started to feel sick.

"Sip slowly," Timothy cautioned.

Brian leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs, and blinked the sweat out of his eyes. A mosquito landed on his neck and Brian brushed it away. He felt pathetic and embarrassed and angry with himself. Timothy had offered to show him other hikes, easier trails, but this one was the shortest, which in theory meant that it would be over the quickest. But the short hike ended up to be a grueling uphill slog, which made it seem so much longer than its promised 1.5 miles. And Timothy had warned him, suggested other trails, but Brian's stubborn pride wouldn't let him back down.

Other hikers had passed them in groups or solo, and none of them looked as exhausted or out of shape as he so obviously was.

Way to let yourself go loser, he thought sourly.

He felt another bug alight on his neck and slapped at it absently. Pain, a sharp, stabbing jab, spread from his neck the minute his hand made contact.

He hissed in pain and surprise and quickly drew his hand back to see the mangled remains of a wasp in his palm.

"What's wrong?" Timothy asked.

"Bee sting."

Timothy instantly dropped his backpack.

"Are you allergic? Do you need an Epi-Pen?"

"No," Brian responded through clenched teeth. Fuck, it hurt! It had caught him in the side of the neck, just behind the ear. That spot was especially sensitive, a fact that Eric had capitalized on once or twice. It throbbed now, a deep ache that spread up to his jaw and he flinched when Timothy's fingers brushed over it.

"Relax," Timothy said, his voice calm and soothing. "It doesn't look like the stinger got caught, that's good." He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a small first aid kit. "I'll put some hydrocortisone cream on it and I have some Tylenol. But once you get home, maybe take a Benadryl if you need it."

He pulled out a tube of medication, smeared some cream on his thumb and reached for him. Brian flinched again.

"Easy," Timothy said, reaching up with his other hand and resting it on the other side of Brian's head to hold it steady. A warm thumb slicked cool ointment over the sting. Brian was suddenly much too aware of Timothy’s proximity, and the feel of his hands on him. Brian had always showed affection through physical means--hugs, high-fives, a pat on the back. He just now realized how touch starved he had been since his breakup.

Timothy's thumb moved over his neck again, smoothing out the ointment. "There we go," he said, drawing back and smiling at Brian.

His eyes were the same deep blue as Eric's and the sunlight filtering through the trees picked up the coppery highlights of his hair. He was still too close, his face scant inches from his, and Brian felt an involuntary urge to move forward, into Timothy's space and hands and warmth.

He squelched it mercilessly. Timothy was one of the very few friends he still had and he wasn't about to ruin it by letting his hormones scramble his brains at the first simple human contact he had in months. Regardless, he still enjoyed the way Timothy's thumb brushed his jawline as he took his hand away.

"How does that feel?"

The sting was still a dull ache in his neck, but he could still feel the phantom points of contact where Timothy had touched him.

"Better."

 

A few weeks after the hike, Timothy convinced him to try kayaking, which wasn't as bad as Brian thought. Little by little he was getting used to Timothy’s company, and was actually looking forward to getting off of work, looking forward to seeing Timothy, to feeling those brief, friendly, fleeting touches. Friendly, because that was all Brian was willing to pursue. Never mind how much he craved Timothy's touch or how his heart skipped a dizzying beat when he saw Timothy watching him, or the way he would involuntarily smile when he thought of him. Timothy was a friend, and that was enough for now.

 

Brian got home from work one night loaded down with a gift basket from a grateful client. It had some snacks and ingredients for a cocktail called a Moscow mule, which Brian had never tried.

He considered the basket on his counter. He didn't like the thought of drinking alone, and Timothy had been the one inviting him out to do things. Maybe it was time to return the favor a little bit.

Hey, want to come over? he texted. I have booze!

Timothy's answering text came almost at once.

Be there in ten.

 

Timothy came bouncing up the front door right on time and Brian let him in. He smelled strongly of beer, though his gaze was clear and he was steady on his feet.

"Did you drive over here?" Brian asked.

"Nah. I was at a brewery with some coworkers, I had them drop me off."

Brian shrugged it off. He made the cocktails according to the instructions while Timothy munched on chocolate covered pretzels and popcorn.

He passed one to Timothy, who downed half of it almost instantly.

"Geez, kid, slow down." Brian laughed. Timothy was already starting to get flushed.

"It's good!" Timothy said, downing the rest of it. He held out his cup for more.

Brian hesitated. Something was up. He reluctantly started to make him another cocktail. Timothy was a grown ass adult who could make his own decisions.

"Everything okay?" Brian asked carefully.

"Never better," Timothy said. "Beautiful weather, good day at work, and the brewery we went to was really good, right by the river where we went kayaking that one time. I'll have to show you someday."

Timothy went though three more Moscow mules in the time it took Brian to get through his second. After the ginger beer was gone, Timothy took a shot of straight vodka and Brian decided that was enough.

"Okay. Let's lay off the alcohol a little, buddy," he said, capping the vodka and putting it away. "Sit down and I'll get you some water."

"Don't want it," Timothy sing-songed, walking into the living room and turning on the television.

Brian poured some anyway and brought it into the room. It was dark except for the flickering of the television. Timothy was sitting on the floor, resting his back against the couch, and Brian wondered if he chose to sit on the floor, or had tried the couch and fallen. He gave Timothy the water, who took an obligatory sip, then set it aside.

"What is up with you today?"

"Nothing," Timothy replied, leaning his head back and throwing an arm across his eyes. A moment later, "My brother came by."

Eric. Brian's warm flush from the alcohol and Timothy's presence disappeared, replaced by cold dread.

"Yeah?" he asked, trying to sound casual. But the way his voice broke when he said it was impossible to miss.

Timothy turned to look at him.

"I made you sad," he said.

Brian shook his head. "No. I just don't like thinking about how things went with us."

Timothy crawled up on to the couch, clumsy and gangly, and crouched next to him.

"And you're sad about it." Timothy moved closer, placed a hand on Brian's shoulder, but he wasn't sure if it was Timothy trying to comfort him or just trying to hold himself steady. Either way it felt nice. "He's a creep and you deserve much better."

Brian suppressed a sigh. He knew something like this would come up sooner or later.

"Tim--" he started. "It's not--"

"I know he cheated on you," Timothy interrupted.

"I---what?"

"That he cheated on you," Timothy repeated.

"You didn't know?"

"Not until now," Timothy said. "He never told us why. Well, he never told me why, I don't know what he told mom and dad. Just that things didn't work out and that you two weren't engaged anymore."

"Well..." Brian wasn't sure what to say. He suddenly wished he had taken that vodka shot when Timothy had his. "Now you know."

"You know I would never do that, right? Cheat on you?"

"What?"

Timothy didn't answer but a second later was moving over him, straddling his legs and sitting in his lap.

"Wh--whoa," Brian started. He was overwhelmed for a moment, the heat of him and the nearness and the way the other boy smelled.

"Shh," Timothy said, placing a light finger over Brian's lips. "It's okay. I'm not like him. I won't hurt you." Then Timothy was leaning forward and kissing him.

Brian's entire body sang at the contact, the weight of Timothy on his lap, the hands on his face, and the firm press of Timothy's lips against his own. Brian was too stunned to react at first and Timothy took advantage, pushing his tongue into Brian's mouth, leaning into him. And a part of him wanted it, because it felt good, so good. To be touched, to be kissed.

Timothy continued to kiss him, moaning and sliding his hand into the waistband of Brian's jeans, down towards his ass.

Just like...

Just like Eric used to.

It sparked the memory buried down deep in his mind.

Opening the bedroom door. Eric in bed with another man. A sickening moment of eye contact. The scent of the flowers he was still gripping in his hand and the betrayal, the acid taste of it and how it settled in his chest and belly with a deep ache.

He could taste it now, where Timothy was kissing him.

Brian jerked away and pushed back against Timothy's chest.

"Wait--" he managed, but Timothy was rocking against him in his lap, pressing up against him and trying to kiss him again.

"Stop!" He put a little too much force behind the shove the second time, and Timothy went tumbling into the floor.

"What the fuck?" Brian snapped. "What are you thinking?"

"I--I just---I thought---" Seeing Timothy sprawled on the floor, T-shirt rucked up to reveal his tan, toned skin was too tempting. It made Brian want to pin him down, kiss him, taste him.

A trick, a sick joke, his mind reminded him.

"You thought? Thought what? That it would be funny to play with me this way?"

"What? No, I'm not--" Timothy scrambled to his feet. "Listen, I just...I've liked you. For a while. And I just--I just--"

"Wanted to fuck with me? Jerk me around and break my heart just like your brother?"

"No. Fuck, Brian, I'm not Eric, don't compare me to him. That's completely unfair. I'm telling you the truth."

"No," Brian said, turning away, because he knew better than to believe him, no matter how appealing what he said was. Not after Eric. "No, I am absolutely not doing this. I really can't believe you. I thought you were my friend."

"I am," Timothy said. "I am your friend. And I want to be more. But not if you really don't want to, I just thought--"

"Well, you thought wrong. And I need you to leave."

"Brian, please, let me--"

"Now!" Brian said. He stalked to the door, pulling it open. Timothy stared at him for a long moment.

"Fuck," he finally said. He grabbed his shoes and stomped out of the house. Brian shut the door behind him, too drained to even slam it shut. He leaned back against it, and then slid down to the floor. The feeling of betrayal was immense. He had liked Timothy, thought of him as a friend. Almost trusted him. How could he have been so dumb? Being friends with his ex's little brother. The little fucker was probably playing him from the start. Maybe he and Eric and Eric's fucktoy were already laughing it up.

He ran a hand across his mouth. His traitorous body still longed for the sensation of the other boy in his lap, the taste of him on his mouth.

He pushed himself up, stalked into the kitchen. Seeing the copper mug that Timothy had been drinking from was too much, and he swept his arm across the counter, sending the mug and the rest of the contents to the floor.

"Goddamn it!" he shouted, kicking the mug across the room. "God-fucking-dammit!"

 

Brian called in sick to work the next day. He had taken a page from Timothy's book and had reopened the vodka bottle, taking shot after shot until he managed to stumble drunkenly to his bed. His head pounded miserably, each throbbing ache a reminder of how he was too old for this shit. He dragged himself into the shower but felt so awful that he finally just sat down to finish washing his hair and let the hot water beat against his aching neck. He dried off, dressed and went downstairs to find the wreckage of the previous night still waiting to be cleaned up. He set to work, thinking maybe by the time he was done, he would feel up to eating. And after that, he could take some ibuprofen.

He had just finished sweeping when there was a knock on the front door.

Brian sighed and rubbed at his forehead. He was so not in the mood to deal with Timothy after last night.

The knocking was insistent, however, and then the little fucker started with the doorbell. It drilled painfully into his head.

Annoyance was starting to transform into genuine irritation with the slightly darker hues of anger. Best to take care of this now.

He stalked to the door and yanked it open, squinting involuntarily in the sunlight. It took him a few seconds to focus and recognize the person standing there. The deep blue eyes, the spun-gold hair.

"Eric," Brian rasped.

Eric responded by stepping forward and punching him hard in the face. Brian's pounding headache instantly took a backseat to the flare of agony across his face as Eric's fist made contact. He doubled over, then fell on his ass, cupping his hands in front of his face.

Eric hissed in pain and drew his hand back to his chest. "Fuck," Eric grunted and Brian felt an ill timed surge of lust shoot through his body, remembering the way he would groan that same way in bed.

"What the hell?" Brian gasped. This was not the state that he wanted to go up against Eric in: hung-over, exhausted and heartbroken.

"Sorry," Eric said. "I hadn't exactly planned that. I just--"

"Just what? Sleeping around behind my back and breaking my heart wasn't enough? Had to attack me in my own home now?"

"No. Just...come on," Eric said, extending his hand. Brian regarded it distrustfully, but eventually took it and let Eric help him to his feet.

"Fuck," Brian groaned, cupping his nose again. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Sorry," Eric said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. Brian tried to turn away but Eric gripped his hands and pulled them away from the burgeoning ache of his nose.

"Let me take a look."

Eric was too close, close enough for Brian to feel the heat of his body and the scent of his cologne. Brian found himself leaning back, trying to create some distance.

"Stop being so damn stubborn," Eric grumbled, moving a hand to the back of his head to keep him in place. "There's no bleeding, but you'll want to put some ice on it."

Brian spun away once Eric released his head and stalked into the kitchen, getting a bag of peas out of the freezer and gently laying it against his cheek and nose.

The blessed coolness began to sink in. Brian sighed, then opened his eyes to glare at Eric.

"I can't believe you. You cheat on me, then show up out of nowhere with no warning to punch me in the face."

Eric shrugged, grinning guiltily and Brian was stuck by how much he resembled Timothy at that moment.

"You know how protective I get over my little bro."

"Shame that protection doesn't extend to those you cheat on," Brian muttered. "Besides Tim and I are none of your business."

"My little brother is trying to hook up with my ex-boyfriend. I'd say that totally is my business."

"Yeah, and he failed," Brian shot back.

That brought Eric up short and he stared at Brian, his mouth slightly open.

"What?"

"We didn't hook up. I told him no."

"Oh." Eric sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. "Well, I guess that makes more sense than what I was thinking."

"Nice. You came over here and attacked me without even knowing what was going on."

"Okay, I'm sorry I hit you, geez," Eric retorted, sounding exasperated. "I just saw Timmy when he came by my parent's place last night."

"Oh."

"Yeah. He was not entirely sober and he had obviously been crying."

The comment twisted a little knife of guilt into Brian's chest. He had already felt guilty for essentially kicking Timothy out without even bothering to check if he made it home safely. Hearing that Timothy had been crying made him feel even worse.

"We had been talking about you," Eric continued. "He wanted to ask you out and he wanted to ask if I was okay with it, and I told him I was."

"So this was your idea," Brian hissed.

"No, it was Tim's," Eric said. "I told him that things were over between us, completely over and I told him what I had done to you. But I didn't have anything to do with it past that. I've been a bit busy, you know, finding a new place to live and all that."

"Which is your own fault," Brian pointed out.

"Yes, a point that you have reminded me of several times," Eric retorted. "But I came over because I wanted to know why my little bro was so upset last night."

"He made a move on me. I said no and told him to get out."

"And why isn't Timmy good enough for you, huh?" Eric challenged.

"It's not about Tim, goddammit, it's about you!" Brian retorted. "For fuck's sake, how can I even trust someone, anyone, after what you did to me?"

"What is it then?" Eric asked angrily, spreading his hands. "What do you want, an apology?"

"No!" They were both on their feet and shouting at this point, just like the night when they broke up. "I just want to know why!"

"Because you were never there!" Eric retorted.

Brian was stunned into momentary silence. Of all the answers he was expecting, this was not one of them. Eric seemed to deflate after a few seconds, the hot anger leaving his eyes to be replaced with weary disappointment. He turned away, crossing his arms.

"What do you mean, never there?" Brian said, still stunned. "I spent tons of time with you. Yes, I had to travel some, but--"

"I'm not talking about the traveling," Eric said, and the bitterness in his voice cut at him. "It was the hours that you would spend at the office, not coming home until late. Then, when you were home, you weren't really there. You were thinking about work, talking about work, or on your goddamn phone."

"I worked hard because I wanted to take care of you, provide for you, so you could have whatever you want!"

"I wanted you!" Eric turned back around, tears in his eyes and it hit Brian in the gut, those tears, making him feel weak and sick. It was the first sign of genuine remorse he had seen from his ex-fiancé. "That's all I wanted. Not the nice apartment, the car, the gadgets. None of that meant anything if you weren't there to share it with me." Eric wiped at his eyes angrily.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brian said. "Told me how you felt so I could--"

"I did tell you!" Eric shouted. "I told you, but you weren't listening! All you cared about was work. I'd tell you about my day and you would barely respond. I'd want to take you out, you were too busy. I wanted to go on trips together, you wouldn't be able to take time off. I wanted to have sex, you would be too tired. We were like roommates, Bry, not lovers! And I kept on telling you that I missed you, that you were working too much, and you would promise to spend more time with me and then you wouldn’t. It was always after the next project, the next project, the next--it never stopped. You never stopped."

Brian looked down at the floor, the beginnings of shame starting to creep over him. Because he could remember some of the things Eric was describing. Getting to their Hawaiian vacation an entire day late because they missed their flight after a business luncheon had run too long. Cancelling on a romantic weekend in the Catskills after a big project at work had fallen through and he had to do damage control. Falling asleep during movie dates. Eric trying to entice him to try out new restaurants or clubs and Brian begging for a quiet night in instead.

Could remember the fights they would have, when Brian would cancel a much anticipated evening out to stay late at work or when Eric would come in wearing something sexy and Brian was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. Could remember all the fights just suddenly stopping... because Eric was no longer trying.

"If it was so bad, why didn't you just break up with me?" Brian finally asked.

"Because when things were good, they were so good and then you proposed and I thought maybe this was it, when things would turn around. But they didn't. And--And I was scared. Not of you," Eric quickly clarified at Brian's startled look. "But...I was afraid of being alone. And I was afraid that if I did try to break up with you, you would want to know why and if I told you..."

"That I wouldn't change?"

"Not so much that. I thought that if I told you, you would ask for another chance and I would give it to you. And then, maybe things would get better, for a while, but that it wouldn't last. That it would eventually slide back into missed dates, canceled trips, a dead bedroom. In some ways, I think, it was better to stay lonely and disappointed, than to get my hopes up, and then be disappointed again."

That rankled and Brian felt his anger flare again.

"That's not fair," he retorted. But even as he said the words, a part of his mind said 'But isn't it? You're a problem solver, but the maintenance and follow through? You're the one that everyone runs to when a fire is breaking out, but not the one who slogs through the wreckage looking for things to salvage'. "That's a shit excuse," Brian continued. "You should have told me that you were thinking of leaving. You should have given me another chance, given our relationship a chance."

"I wasn't even sure I still wanted to at that point," Eric said. "I loved you, but do you know how it makes you feel when your fiancé doesn't even want to spend time with you? How much it wears down your confidence when you throw yourself at your boyfriend wearing next to nothing, and all he wants to do is sleep? How it feels to sit in a restaurant, alone, waiting, only to find out you forgot about a date when working late. Again." Eric shook his head. "I wasn't sure what to do. And when I was trying to figure it out...that's when I met him."

"I don't--"

"Yeah, I know you don't," Eric spit out in return. "But the funny thing is, it wasn't even like that at first. He was just a guy at the gym, that I would vent to. But he listened to me. He cared about what I was saying. He liked hearing about all the stupid stuff I loved that you never cared about."

"I cared," Brian said thickly. "Dammit, I might have done a real shit job at showing it, but I cared."

"It was wrong of me. I know. I should have broken up with you the minute I started having feelings for Jamie. I fucked up, big time. I admit that. But you wanted to know why. I loved you Bry, but I couldn’t hold onto a one sided relationship forever."

"Well," Brian looked down at the floor again, trying to think of something to say. He couldn’t deny any of the things that Eric had said. "I guess I'm sorry for being a shit boyfriend."

Eric let out a strange sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "It's not like I was much better. What I did to you was so wrong and I regret it like hell, but I was hurting back then, so bad. And I'm sorry for all the awful things I said. I didn't mean them. That wasn't how I wanted things between us to end."

Eric looked so sad and defeated that it was hard to stem the surge of compassion that rose up inside him. He took two quick steps to close the distance between them and then he had Eric in his arms, hugging him tightly. He halfway expected Eric to jerk away, but he returned the hug, clinging to him like his life depended on it. It felt good, familiar, to hold him in his arms again. Bittersweet.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Jesus, I'm sorry."

"Me too," Eric replied, his voice shaky and unsteady. He stepped back and wiped at his eyes again. "Wow, I didn't mean to turn this into a cry fest."

"It's okay," Brian said and cleared his throat after realizing how rough his voice sounded.

"I just--" Eric cleared his throat as well. "I just wanted to let you know that Timmy really does like you. A lot. He's not messing with you, he doesn’t have that in him. And if you want to date him, I'm okay with that. Just...I don't know. Treat him better than you treated me. He deserves it."

"I know," Brian said.

Eric gave him a thin-lipped smile and turned to leave. Brian watched him go without another word.

***

Brian was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to talk to Timothy that day. Instead, he thought about what Eric had told him, wondering how he could have been so fucking blind. His relationship had been crumbling all around him and he had been too involved in himself and his work to see it. After he had proposed, he had gone out with Eric more often, but soon slipped back into his old ways, thinking that he had a wedding to pay for. And then the fights had stopped, and Brian had thought they finally resolved their differences, not that his fiancé had already checked out of their relationship.

The next day was a Saturday, so Brian went in for the morning meeting, did a few hours of work to catch up from the previous day, then decided to go find Timothy and talk. Staying in the office for the rest of the day, burying himself in work was a comforting idea, but that had already screwed him out of one relationship and Brian wasn’t about to let it ruin another one--not if there was even a slight chance of being able to repair it.

Eric texted him that Timothy was working at a nearby campground, leading a group through an obstacle course meant to promote teamwork and cooperation.

Brian approached as individuals were breaking off to go to their cars and Timothy was gathering up equipment.

He glanced up at Brian's approach, and his expression hardened before he looked down, focusing on his equipment.

"Hey," Brian attempted as Timothy took a piece of rope off the ground and started coiling it up.

Timothy didn't respond and kept working.

"Can I help?" Brian asked.

"No."

"Then can we talk? Please?"

"You've said plenty already."

"Dammit, Tim. Please."

Timothy sighed, tossing the neatly coiled rope into a plastic bucket. "Fine. Talk."

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for the other night, and I'm sorry for the way I handled everything, it was awful of me. You've been a good friend to me, have helped me a lot and the other night was a shitty way for me to repay you."

"Agreed," Timothy snapped.

"I was stupid," Brian continued. "I was stupid and I'm sorry. I thought I was over your brother and I'm not, but that was no excuse for the way I treated you."

"Fine," Timothy replied, his voice still icy. "I accept your apology."

"And even if I wasn't interested, that was still the wrong way to handle it."

Timothy was at least looking at him, now, though his expression was closed off and carefully guarded. "If you weren't interested?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm not not interested. I don't know. Dammit, I'm not really sure what I'm trying to say."

"Well," Timothy returned his gaze to the equipment. "Let me know if you figure it out, because--"

"Can I kiss you?"

Timothy glanced up again. He still had that guarded look but there was something different in his eyes now...surprise? Hope?

"Why?"

"Because I want to kiss you," Brian told him truthfully. Wanted to know how kissing him felt, really felt without being clouded by suspicion and unresolved grief. Wanted to know how it felt to kiss Timothy, and not Eric's younger brother.

Timothy watched him for a long time, not saying anything, his expression unreadable. Brian felt the nervousness begin to creep in and wanted to back off, take his request back and find some solid safe ground again, but his instinct told him to wait. Timothy was young and Brian had hurt him deeply, but if he had any chance of saving things, it was here, in the awful silence and tension, waiting for Timothy to answer.

"Okay," Timothy finally said.

Brian approached him slowly, giving him time to change his mind but Timothy stood his ground until Brian was kissing him. It had none of the drunken passion from a few nights ago but was slower, unhurried, cautious. Timothy's mouth was warm against his, and he smelled of fresh air, grass and clean sweat. His mouth was soft and yielding under his and opened when Brian pressed his advantage. It felt good, right, kissing him here in the sun.

He wanted more, wanted to kiss him more, push him down onto the grass. Hell, Timothy might even let him. But it wasn't the right time, might not be for a while. He drew back instead, gently breaking the kiss, but couldn't keep one of his traitorous hands from reaching up to touch Timothy's face. Timothy looked up at him with liquid eyes, so vulnerable and uncertain that it made his chest ache.

"I like you Tim. Really, really like you."

"But?"

"But I don't know if rushing into a relationship right now is the best thing for either of us."

Timothy stepped back, and Brian's hand fell away. Timothy looked down at the ground, grinding the toe of his shoe against the grass and dirt.

"Maybe we can still be friends?" he asked hollowly.

Brian reached out for Timothy's hand and Timothy let him take it. Feeling emboldened he took his other hand too and held them, letting the feeling ground him.

"Look," he started. "What happened between me and your brother was awful. It hurt me and--"

"I told you I'm nothing like him!" Timothy protested.

"I know, I know, let me finish." Brian looked down to where their hands were joined. "Your brother hurt me. A lot. But I wasn't blameless either. I did things that hurt him too. He needed things that I didn't give him and he found them in someone else. And---and I don't want to hurt you the way I hurt him." Brian swallowed hard. "I couldn't stand it."

"I--I don't--"

"I saw Eric yesterday," Brian continued. "I got to talk to him and it helped. Helped me see what I did wrong. And I want to be a better boyfriend for you than I was to him. But I need to make some changes, and I need some time for that to happen." He looked down at their hands again, gave them a gentle squeeze. "So I do want a relationship with you. But...give me some time, if you can."

"Okay. So you want some time," Timothy replied. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Hang out with me. Go on dates, I guess. Just---I hope you'll let me take you out, let me get to know you. Give me some time to get my life in order so I can be the type of guy you deserve. I'm looking long term here, not a short fling and I don't want to rush into anything before I'm ready."

Timothy took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then nodded his head. "Okay. That...that sounds good actually. As long as I can keep seeing you."

"Definitely. If you want to."

"Oh, I totally want to. Can I have another kiss?"

He could.

***

Brian carefully hung up his business suit on a hook on the back of his office door.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Like a guy who is ready to go camping," Maggie replied promptly. Maggie was his new assistant, one of the conditions that Brian had set out when he started dating Timothy, along with more vacation time, work from home options, and one free weekend per month. His supervisor had readily agreed and even offered a pay raise. Later, when he was telling Timothy about it, his boyfriend had laughed.

"He thought you were about to quit, you idiot," Timothy had told him. Brian couldn't deny that the thought had briefly crossed his mind, but he really liked his job, just didn't want to live it all the time anymore.

"Okay, so I will be out the rest of today and the weekend per the email I sent out--" Brian started.

"Last week, yes," Maggie said.

"And--" There was a knock on the door, an ominous sound in Brian's experience. However, when he opened it, instead of a panicked coworker, he found Timothy smiling from the doorway.

"Hey baby," Brian said, drawing him in and dropping a quick kiss on his lips. "I thought we were meeting at the campground."

"Couldn't wait," Timothy replied with a grin. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Okay, Ms. Spencer, you are in charge. I'm going to be unavailable by phone all weekend and won't be checking emails, so if there are any problems--"

"Call Mr. Anderson," Maggie finished. "Go, have fun. I'll see you Monday."

Brian turned his full attention to Timothy, taking his hand and leading him out.

"Your new assistant is hot," Timothy noted. "Do I have to worry?"

"She's not my type," Brian replied. He felt a flutter of nervous excitement as they left the office complex. This was their first real romantic get-away in their fledgling relationship. Brian would have preferred something more luxurious, but he had told Timothy to pick the place and Timothy wanted to go camping, so camping it was.

"Oh really?" Timothy asked, getting into the passenger seat of Brian's SUV. "So what is your type?"

"Oh, you know," Brian said, getting into the driver's seat. "Sexy redheads who are smart and sweet and have questionable taste in beer."

"Hey, everyone else thinks that brewery we went to last night is awesome, you're just a beer snob."

"A beer snob with a hot boyfriend," Brian agreed. He turned on the ignition. "Ready?"

Timothy's smile and the way he took his hand was everything he ever needed.

"Ready."

~END~