Imprint - 15. Ch. 3 Part VI

VI

“Hey?”

There was movement, light shaking; time is hard to keep track of but he would've thought early evening, just before lights out. Too early for this. He let his eyes flutter open, tried to focus, tried to be here.

“Hey you,” not as happy as usual but he had sensed that already, sensed a troubling distance, sensed that something was wrong. He wished he could speak, but had to settle for waiting to be told.

“I got some bad news. I-” a pause, an audible swallow, “I – have to leave.”

...what?

(no, please...not again...)

“I don't want to,” as if sensing his silent protests, “I don't, but they're – they're fucking transferring me to some other facility for...I don't know, some stupid reason, they're not telling me why or giving me a choice, and they're doing it tomorrow so they're springing it on me last minute, too.”

Struggled to move, ordered his limbs to move, go, over to that dip in the mattress, over to that wall of body heat near by; touch, clutch, grab hold and never let go.

(don't leave...don't leave me alone...)

Must've seen his twitching fingers, knew by now what it meant; his hand was gently seized, lifted up and pressed against a familiar face. “I don't want to leave you.”

(I don't want you to leave...)

Helpless, powerless, in this situation and seemingly all others; carried along on the tides of fate, unable to do a thing to steer the course.

(how did it become like this...I should – should do...)

“Its not going to be like that.” Time jump, its darker now and that dip in the mattress is stretched out alongside him, fingers running up and down his side. The voice is quieter, trying not to draw any attention, they'd get in trouble like this

(...will be angry when they find out...)

“I mean, its just a couple more years,” still speaking, “We'll be adults, on our own and it won't matter anymore, right? And I mean there is a phone here, so...oh, wait. Right. Um, can you write letters then?”

He couldn't follow, do what now?

“Wait here,” the weight disappeared from beside him; he heard footsteps, a drawer opening, more footsteps and then it was back. His hand was held, cool metal slipped over his finger. “There,” his fingers were squeezed together, metal pressed tightly into the surrounding skin and bone, “You keep that...Its my mother's, you know, only thing I got left, so I'm going to want it back. Long as you have it, I got reason to find you, right?”

His fingers twitched again, thumb brushing at the metal; a ring, plain band.

“I should – I should take something from you, too, right? That way I – well, we both have something.” A long pause, a look around for possessions of value he did not have. He felt a hesitant touch at his chest, fingers walking up, “Maybe – maybe this? It would work,” a touch at his neck, finger hooking into the silver chain he wore there, starting to pull it out from underneath his shirt.

He slapped his hand down over it, stopping this progression in its tracks; the touch instantly disappeared. “Whoa, okay. Sorry.”

The next movement was going to be harder but he forced it, flinging his arm outward until his hand bumped into the nightstand he kind of knew was there. Walked his fingers along the items someone had arranged for him, a lamp that wasn't his, a book that wasn't his, and finally, there, one of the very few things that actually was. He closed his fingers around it, soft and fuzzy, dropping it on the bed.

There was a short laugh. “Really?” another pause, a cleared throat, “Uh, okay... Okay, I'll take it, hang on to it. Thanks.”

Hands cupped his face, he worked his gaze to focus on the face hovering over his, tracing over those familiar features in case he never saw them again. Gods within, those eyes were so sad. “You know this isn't my idea, right? If I thought there was anything I could do,” lips pressed gently to his, “I'll make them pay for it, I promise. I can be a much bigger pain in the ass than this, you know?”

One side of his mouth twitched, the closest he could come to a smile. It was noticed and appreciated. “I'm glad you like that plan.” Another kiss, harder and needier than the first; it was easy to see what was coming next.

“What do you think? One more time?”

---

He could plainly see Tallen's concern when he opened the back room door, the welcoming smile slipping away almost instantly. “Fuck. You look like how I feel.”

He rubbed a self conscious hand over his face, the effects of several nights of poor sleep and disturbing dreams now obvious; Tallen didn't look much better himself, but he knew he was worse.

“You look like you need that hug more than I do.”

He took a few steps back, clearing the doorway, considering his options; he knew if he protested Tallen would relent, but...did he want to? It wasn't so bad before, once he got passed the initial fear reaction; after the night he had, he needed something, some comfort.

(to know...that you're here...)

Tallen pushed the door shut behind himself, looking at him questioningly when he just stood there; he realized that Tallen had not been serious in the same moment that Tallen read his submissive body language and saw the acceptance in it. Clearly taken by surprise, but not about to pass up the opportunity either.

He expected to be seized and crushed to the man's chest as he had been before, its what he prepared himself for; Tallen was more careful this time, too careful, hands on his arms and no further, standing only close enough to brush against him. It was a little maddening in its hesitance, and it took a great deal of effort not to tremble in response because that would only scare Tallen off.

(used to be more confident, before, in the beginning...he's as scared as I am...)

He managed to make himself shuffle half a step closer, make their connection a little more solid, more bearable for him. Tallen paused just a second before winding arms tight around him, pulled him closer, the man's chin coming to rest on top of his head. That was more like it.

A hand gently rubbed at his back, “How long has it been since you slept?”

He considered raising his arms, trying touching in return, but he couldn't make them move; this was the most he could do right now. “I sleep...just – not well.”

Tallen took a deep breath, chest expanding up against him; that hand moved upward until fingers were touching the base of his neck. “I suppose its too soon for me to take you out again, huh?”

He didn't have to stop and think, “No, I...couldn't handle that, now.”

Another deep breath, he felt the man nod in resignation, “Yeah, I thought so.”

“You could come over,” he continued, “I can cook.”

Tallen pulled back, hands still on his arms, looking down at him with a frown, “You inviting me over?”

He nodded, arms still stiff at his sides, trying not to move. “If you want.”

“I want, but...are you sure?”

“Why not?” he asked, “What would be different...from this?”

Tallen thought it over and shrugged, “Well, nothing, really. Just...well, perception. It seems more...intimate, I guess.” Green eyes avoided his own.

That was no concern of his, his apartment was hardly anything special.

Tallen nodded, “Sure,” he said, trying to keep from smiling too much, fingers squeezing his arms, “Sure, I'd love to. I'd really love to, I am addicted to your cooking already, you know.”

He smiled just slightly, “That's baking...not the same thing. I'm not – as good, with that.”

“Still better than what I can manage, I got a mini fridge and a hot plate.” He played at embarrassed, “Its a temporary set up.”

He nodded, saying nothing.

(some things you'll never be good at...)

“Should I pick you up then? Or-”

Thinking again what Tallen said about perceptions, he winced and shook his head, “Could you – if you remember where, just...meet me there, instead?”

“I remember it,” Tallen said immediately, “Its not problem, but why do you-” Rather than try to explain, he gestured to the door behind them; the meaning was understood, “Oh. I thought you got her off your back?”

He nodded, “Don't want to-” what was the phrase? “...fan fire?” Sophie was trying very hard but she was still only human and an excitable one at that; if she decided to take this the wrong way there might be no stopping her.

From the smile on his face, Tallen must've realized that, too. “Okay, I'll do that,” he said, “And hey, if you tell me what we're eating, I'll go shopping for you, too.”

Seated around the desk again, a cup of coffee in front of him (his fourth today, not that Tallen would've known that), he shifted the focus off of himself. “How are you? And your...work, yesterday?”

Tallen dropped his head against the desk, it was hard to tell how much was exaggerated, “Oh it was horrible. Worse than I thought it'd be.”

He had the thought to reach forward and run fingers through blond hair; he stayed still and berated himself for it.

Tallen looked up again, leaning forward in his chair, thermos in one hand, gesturing with the other, “Have you ever had to deal with an idiot, and I'm talking about someone so out of touch with reality that you're amazed he ever figured out how to breathe on his own? And not only is he an idiot but he's arrogant as all fuck, too, so you can't try to explain shit to him because he knows better and he doesn't want to hear it. My experience and reputation doesn't mean nothing, can't smack him around or threaten him with the all mighty boss men's terrible wrath. No, the only way to get anywhere at all is blowing up his ego while trying to ease him over to my way of thinking so he thinks it was all his idea and he's doing me a big favor 'cause I'm such a good friend.” He groaned, scrubbing a hand across his face, “It takes forever, and worse if he can smell desperation. At least the bastard cooks a decent dinner.”

“Couldn't leave?” he asked, showing interest.

Tallen shook his head, “Nope, Daven is a uniquely useful bastard, which is probably why no one's killed him yet. And we couldn't send anyone else either, because I'm one of the few people he's willing to negotiate with at all,” he grimaced, “Not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“What – what do you do? Here?” he decided to ask.

Tallen waved a dismissive hand, “Oh, this is just glorified gopher work, most of what I end up doing.” He paused for a drink, “Anyway, I was even later than I thought I'd be. I had to drive to a safe spot I know, spent three hours sleeping in the truck and that's all I've had since yesterday morning.”

He frowned, “Why aren't you home sleeping?”

“I wanted to see you,” Tallen grinned sheepishly, shamelessly trying for points before waving it off, “I also needed to report in, let everyone know how it went and how much more they're going to owe because Daven's an unreasonable prick. But don't worry, I am talking tomorrow off for recovery.”

“But...later?”

“Later I'll be awake,” he shrugged, smiling, “I love the concern, but I'll be okay, I know my limits. Unless dinner with you is more intense than what I'm imagining?”

(quiet footsteps, creeping up from behind...hands on your hips, a body against your back, lips brushing your ear)

(“That smells good.”)

(“...I just put it on, its not been cooking long enough to smell.”)

(“I'm not talking about the food.”)

(teeth nip playfully at an ear lobe, arms encircle your waist and pull you close...warmth, he's always so warm...)

(“You know what, I don't think I'm hungry.”)

“...no, it'll be fine.”

---

Despite his earlier nonchalance, he was actually a little nervous letting Tallen into his apartment. Previously only Sophie had been a guest here, even that only a couple times and her reaction to his accommodations had been less than positive (instantly followed up by a hurried insistence that it wasn't that bad, “Its...cozy. And up to code – probably.”); he found himself oddly worried at the response he would receive.

Tallen put the grocery bag he was waiting on the stoop with by the door, the messenger bag he was never without still over his shoulder, and walked inside. The man moved to the center of the studio room, taking in everything with more interest than it warranted; he remembered the line about intimacy and wondered what this all said about him.

“Nice place,” and he did manage to make it sound sincere.

“...its small,” he swore he meant a thank you.

Tallen turned back to him with a shrug, “You're the only one living here,” he said, “Hell, I live in a room. Its like,” he indicated with an arm a near third of the apartment, uncertain whether a little more or a little less, “Well, smaller than this anyway.”

He nodded, wondering where you would find a place like that.

Tallen shrugged again, “I sleep there and otherwise I'm never home, so its all I need.”

“Where do you go?” he asked.

“Work, friends, driving everywhere. Coffee with attractive book store employees.”

“Sophie?” out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Tallen glared playfully, “Aren't you cute.” He looked more lively than he had earlier in the day, whatever else Tallen may have done in the time between he did manage to clean himself up, shower and change his clothes. It made him feel less bad about having the man here, though he had given plenty opportunity for Tallen to back out.

He was walking further into the room, toward the large window, pulling his trench coat off as he went, folding it up in his hands; he was wearing a blue button up shirt made from some material that looked soft to the touch

(to lean up against...)

His eyes as always went right to the tattoos, visible where the short sleeves cut off; no matter how often he saw them, it remained a jarring sight.

(shouldn't have those...its not supposed to be like this...)

“Love the window wall,” Tallen commented, standing in front of it, touching a hand to the glass and looking outside.

(same spot I stood, day after day, watching, waiting for...)

“If only there was an actual view, right?” Tallen's gaze tilted first up and then downward, “Well, I suppose Finn there is entertaining.”

He frowned, “What?”

Tallen glanced back at him, “Red head down there in yellow, over by the dumpster,” he shrugged, “He looks like a Finn.”

He does...?

(“Oh, so that's what you've been doing the last few days. Its about time... Don't look at me like that, spent years now watching you dance around him, acting like an idiot...getting ready to tell him myself.”)

(...oh, right...)

“He does,” he spoke quietly in agreement.

Tallen watched him curiously a moment before smiling, “I love how in sync we are, you know.”

He smiled back but otherwise didn't know what to say.

(its a good sign, right?has to be...we can go back, like it was...before...)

(“He doesn't love you.”)

(“He was only ever going to break your heart.”)

(...stop it, just stop...)

(“Please forgive me, say you forgive me.”)

(...could've fixed it, before you left...)

(“You know this isn't my idea, right?...I don't want to leave you.”)

His hand curled, thumb rubbing nervously at his ring.

(“I see we have a couple new faces in the crowd. Why don't you introduce yourselves, tell us why you're here.”)

(...I just want this fixed...want to feel safe again...)

He realized Tallen was talking to him, still walking around the room, cataloging what little there was to see. “Got to say, I wasn't expecting this,” gestured with a foot at the small television sitting on the floor.

He shrugged, “...I watch the news.”

“That's the most depressing part of TV,” Tallen leaned a little closer to the wall above, examining a painting of snow covered pine trees he had picked up from the second hand store.

“Sorry its not more...exciting,” he felt compelled to apologize.

Tallen waved this off, “I'm not complaining. I actually like it here, its very...relaxing.”

“Sorry I don't have furniture,” he just couldn't stop. There was a stool in the kitchen near the counter, and other than the mattress that was it; he occasionally wished he could have a comfortable chair to curl up and read in, but he couldn't carry one up himself and couldn't let anyone else inside, either. He bought pillows instead, a large collection of them piled up in the corner, it was good enough for now.

Tallen waved this off, too, “I'm fine, I got...” his eyes cut quickly to the mattress, about to say something further

(a joke, maybe...something about an excuse to get in my bed?)

but then decided against it, glancing away again.

(why not? I would've laughed)

“Want any help with the food?” Tallen asked now, straightening up from the wall, coming a step closer, “Wouldn't trust me with a heat source, but I can be good with a knife.”

He wondered at that, watching Tallen take another two steps closer, his eyes moving down the column of the man's neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, and something hanging there just below the hollow of his throat that he had half glimpsed once before. He was standing right in front of the man before realizing that he'd moved, arms extended and fingers grasping at the medallion, thumb tracing gently over the black dyed carving; soft curving lines that twisted and twined around each other, boxed in by four small circles.

(“What are you drawing? Is that a glyph? Whose is it?”)

(“Don't know. Saw it around.”)

“I made that.”

“Hmm?” he couldn't pull his eyes away, “You did?”

“Yeah, years ago now. Its not that good.”

“Its not?”

“Well, its...unrefined, as my teacher would say. Its the first piece I ever made, so I keep it, even though I can do better now.”

He examined a bit closer and noticed the disk was not a perfect circle, the engraving felt uneven in depth; it wasn't so bad for a first try. “...what is it?”

The man shrugged, “Just something in my head. I was just kind of screwing around with the equipment, you know.”

The metal was warm, smooth, almost thrumming under his touch. “...what is it? Um...I mean, made of?”

Another shrug, “Metal, nothing special.”

(...I don't think that's true)

He glanced up finally to meet pine green eyes and a warm smile. “If I knew you'd be this interested, I would've showed off sooner.”

(I don't understand...where you would've gotten...)

Embarrassed, he let go and took half a step back

(just something in your head...)

keeping his eyes lowered again, trying to brush this off, act as though it were nothing.

(he'll play along...doesn't want to talk about it either...)

“Come on,” he said, “You can...help me.”

---

“Its quiet.”

He turned from the stove, looking to where Tallen was perched on the stool, idly toying with the kitchen knife he was no longer using. Tallen was half turned toward the window and didn't seem to realize his comment had drawn notice; he made a questioning noise.

Tallen looked at him, “Oh, I was just saying its quiet. Can't hear anything from the bar at all.”

He nodded, “...I said it was.”

“I know you did, I just...well, I thought you'd learned to tune it out.”

“I don't think I could,” he knew he couldn't, he'd be too on edge to even sleep.

“I didn't think I could either,” Tallen said, “But after a couple years, as long as my neighbors aren't actually trying to kill each other, then its all just a background hum. Don't even notice it.”

He frowned, “...where you live?”

Tallen nodded, “Yeah, the place is kind of a dump. I said that before, didn't I?'

He thought back, “You said you didn't like it there.”

“Yeah, well, that's why.”

“Bad neighbors?”

Tallen laughed without humor, “On all sides. That's including the assholes that hang out in the parking lot and the assholes that hang out in the hall.”

“...nothing you can do?”

“Not if I want to keep my teeth.”

He couldn't tell if Tallen was joking or not; it bothered him. He tried to cover it up. “...no dinner at your place, then?”

Tallen didn't take the bait, he answered seriously, “I would never bring you there,” he shook his head, “Never.”

That did nothing to make him feel better. “Why do you live there?” he decided to ask.

“Its a...transitional place. I had to leave where I was living and I didn't have the time or the funds for something better.”

“...why?”

“Nothing dramatic. I was living with a family and I needed my own place for work, so I didn't bother anyone, you know.” Tallen tried to look reassuring, “I'm not staying there. I got plans, things in the works, promise.”

He tried to take that to heart; it was hard. “...you make it sound bad.”

“It is, but,” he shrugged, “I'm used to it. I know how to deal, you know.”

Not appeased, he turned back to the stove, refocusing on the work in front of him.

(I had hoped better for you...)

“You look so relaxed, you know,” Tallen spoke up again, “Doing that.”

He looked back again, nodding. “Its calming, for me.”

“Any reason why?”

(“So you learned this for me?... Wow, I think that's the best present I've ever gotten.”)

“...good memories.”

Tallen smiled fondly, “Glad you get to do it for a living then. Well, partially, but better than not at all. Must make things easier.”

He smiled himself, “...that's why.” He turned around to explain, “The first few months I was there, it was hard. Something happened...on the bus, this person was – yelling, I couldn't...I had a panic attack. Lillian took me upstairs, where she lives, told me to relax. I didn't want to do nothing, so – I baked something, as a thank you. She brought it down to share with Sophie and Marie, and it got passed out to customers, too.” He leaned back against the counter, dividing his attention between food and guest, “She made me an offer, I can use her kitchen whenever I want – need, a break, and she'll sell what I make on a...first come first serve. Its been good – popular, with people, so...now I do, every day.”

Tallen nodded, “Cool. That was nice of her, doing that for you.”

Again, he struggled with words to explain. “I think...it makes her feel good – with herself, to help me. With my...special needs.”

“Special needs?” Tallen snorted, “Is that what you got?”

He shrugged casually, “What I hear.”

“Yeah, I'm sure,” Tallen seemed annoyed by this, but before he could question it was waved away, “Anyway, whatever her reasons, I guess its good you have someone who understands.”

He nodded agreement, “I think its not...usual. As I hear.”

“It never is.”

He paused at that, nodding again, “...no, it isn't.”

“You're not that difficult, you know,” Tallen said, “whatever people might have told you. Its not that hard, to see what you need and just fucking do it.”

He quietly turned back to his work, not knowing what to say.

(...some learn more quickly than others...)

---

Tallen was still making satisfied noises minutes after finishing eating; he was still trying to figure out how much it was exaggerated. “...not that special.”

“I disagree. But then again, like I already told you, I got a hot plate.” Tallen was leaning back against the window, seated on the floor with his legs stretched out; shoes removed some time ago, that black stockinged foot was a bare inch from touching his knee. He couldn't stop staring at it, tensing his leg in preparation; uncertain if it was dread or hope he was feeling.

Tallen turned his head toward him, grinning, “This was a good idea. We should do dates like this more often.”

He thought and nodded, “...it would be good, for me. I could, more often.” He paused then added, “If you'd want to – more often.”

“I would,” he said, “I enjoy your company, you know.”

“...I'm more entertaining than your hot plate?”

Tallen laughed, “You're in a humorous mood tonight.” He smiled, “I like it, its cute.”

He didn't respond and wondered at being called cute again.

“Can I use your restroom?”

He nodded, watching as that foot pulled back from beside his leg; he missed it almost immediately.

“I'll be back then,” he heard, sensing the man moving away. “Oh, and for the record, you're much more entertaining than the hot plate. Nicer to look at, too.”

He thought it over... Oh, just go for it.

“More talkative though?”

That earned him another laugh, “Might be too close to call.”

Alone for the moment, he gathered their plates and moved them to the sink; he paused to assess his mood, but aside from some expected tension he was doing well enough.

(like I remember it being...guess that really is what he wants...)

He started walking back toward the window, intent to retaking his seat and waiting, when his eyes fell on something on the floor just to the left of his path; Tallen's messenger bag, he had left it propped against the stool he'd been sitting on, but it had fallen over and a few items were spilling out of the open top.

...I should probably pick that up.

Reluctantly, eyes glancing toward the closed door, he bent down to do just that.

He picked up that newspaper that had drawn his attention every time they were together, perhaps not the very same one but the same bizarre lettering, foreign but not entirely alien.

(f, or is it v...a, long a...k, kh...)

He folded it in half, eyes scanning along the headline.

(t – no, wait, that squiggle on top makes it more like a th, the accent there is stressed pronouncement... River...green...second?... No, wait, word order, fix the... Green River – New Green River... New Green River Trader's Market...?)

His eyes shifted down, to a block of text circled in red ink.

(New shipment, Veilore wpns. grd. unprocessed unmarked, 4 rks. per only. Trd. 8 unchrg. Ae-st, 4 wt-bsd. or wn-bsd, 20 c. Equal offer considered)

And another, below and to the right

(Making a trip through Al'trane, accepting order requests)

with a red arrow pointing up from the margin where Tallen had scribbled a series of numbers

(24-87152-85694...is that a phone number? Its too long...)

He folded the paper in half again, careful of the ink rubbing off on his hands

(I don't want to think about this...I don't think I like it...)

and tucked it back inside.

The overhead light caught on something shiny, that big blocky silver phone he remembered from the truck, the one Tallen said was dead. It was sitting there next to the black, slightly less older model Sophie made fun of. He ran a lazy finger along the silver casing, half curious to take it out and look it over; he usually wasn't so interested but here

(it doesn't seem...something is...)

His touch caused the phone to shift and slide to the side; underneath it...a second phone, exactly like it.

(...how many phones does one man need?)

Curiosity too much now, hoping he would have time and hoping it wouldn't look bad if he didn't, he reached all the way in. He'd just closed his hand around the first phone, just started to lift it, when something else below them caught his attention.

(...is that...?)

Digging down toward it, his hand wrapped around something soft and fuzzy

(it is...it really is...)

He could hear the sink running behind the door now; he thought to refocus his attention, to put everything away and get back to his seat but he couldn't move, couldn't look away from the little stuffed penguin in his hand.

It was old now and a little ragged but not as much as it should have been; it had clearly been taken care of, washed more than once, small damage repaired. It had lost one shiny black eye, a wing had been sewn back on, there were several light brown drops staining its white fur belly that he thought was likely spilled coffee cleaned as best as possible. He ran his thumb over the tuft of black and yellow fuzz at the top of its head, a familiar motion from long ago.

(“Really? ...Uh, okay. Okay, I'll take it, hang on to it. Thanks.”)

He heard the doorknob turning

(what a relief...now I can ask...)

and footsteps coming out. “You know, I'd make some joke about how cramped that room is, but I got to use a-” The words stopped abruptly.

He stood up again, moving his attention from the object in his hand to the man who had carried it.

(how will you play this now? Be angry with me for looking? Drag it out?)

Tallen's eyes had widened just briefly before he quickly schooled his expression, carefully blank. Tallen kept by the door, watching him, waiting for him to speak.

(so I go first then...and how do I respond? Shock, confusion?)

“Where did you get this?” he kept his tone even, features calm, “I used to have – I would've thought this – this was...mine?”

Tallen looked uncertain what to say, mentally weighing his options, studying his face to try and see what he wanted to hear; the man looked caught, worried, so much so it was tempting to take it back, retract his statement, tuck the object away again and pretend he never saw anything at all.

(but I can't...I want it fixed, I want to know if we...)

“It is yours,” Tallen spoke quietly, hesitantly, green eyes watching him warily, “You gave it to me, the night I left the group home. Remember?”

(no anger, to the point...he wants this done, as I do...)

He raised his free hand toward his face, staring down at the silver band on his ring finger, thumb absently rubbing against it as his eyes moved back to Tallen, confused, disbelieving.

Tallen nodded calm as he could, “Yeah, that was mine. Or my mother's, anyway. I gave it to you. You remember?”

(...he expects me to say no)

He shook his head slowly, forced the words to come, “No, that's...that's not...” his fingers curled tighter, feeling the metal dig into the surrounding digits. “I remember his name,” he said, “He – it...it wasn't...”

“I see we have a couple new faces in the crowd. Why don't you introduce yourselves, tell us why you're here.”

“It was Daniel,” came the answer, “Daniel Ellison.”

“And I'm here because my uncle is a fucking asshole.”

“I don't think that's why you're here.”

“Yeah, well, I disagree.”

A shrug, “That's what's on my birth certificate anyway.”

He took two steps back, leaning against the counter, wrapping his arms around himself.

(what is the next move...what am I supposed to say...)

“...then who is Tallen?” he kept his voice low, easiest to keep calm, speak clearly.

Tallen's eyes snapped back to his face, “I am. Its my name, or it is now anyway.” The man took half a step toward him, visibly forcing himself to stop there, not come closer, “It – its not something I made up for your benefit, I swear. No one's called me Daniel in years.”

(years?...has it been years?)

“I didn't lie to you,” another half step forward, Tallen met his eyes, sincere, pleading, “I didn't think of that, but it wasn't – I wasn't trying to hide or anything, I swear.”

(...he expects me to be angry)

He frowned, unable to make eye contact he kept his gaze lowered, “...you knew who I was?”

Tallen nodded, “...yeah, of course I did. Hard to mistake it when you're still wearing my ring.”

He made himself look up, “You...didn't say anything.”

Fondness gave way to guilt, Tallen struggled to reply, “I – I know. I know I didn't. I-” he shook his head, running a hand back through his hair, “I wasn't trying to lie to you, I wasn't, I just...I didn't know what to say.”

“You...didn't?”

“Yeah,” he nodded slightly in confirmation, “I was trying, I was trying to think of something, some way. I just didn't know...nothing seemed to work.”

He thought he could understand that, honestly. How hard it would be, to suddenly find yourself faced with someone that you didn't think you would ever-

And then another thought occurred to him

(would have, of course...to be expected..)

and he looked up questioningly, meeting pine green eyes once again, “Was this...was it coincidence?” the words were harder to grasp, tension threatened to close his throat altogether. “Did you just...come in, see me, realize...who I was? Or...what?”

Tallen was surprised by the question, looked about to answer but then paused. He watched the debate rage behind pine green eyes before the man slowly shook his head, “No, its – its not. I knew you worked there, that's why – that's why I was there, trying to run into you.” Another long pause, a deep breath, and with great reluctance, “I knew where you lived, too. I've been here before. Not inside, but...I've driven by. Saw you come home from work once.”

(...I don't know...how do I react now...?)

Saying nothing, he pulled his cigarette case out of his pocket, dragging one of his man scattered ash trays closer; he needed to be calm, he needed a moment to think.

Tallen saw the gesture and took it in the worst way possible, “Oh god. Look, I know what you're – it looks bad, I know. But I'm not...I'm not stalking you or anything, I just,” he had backed up to the other side of the room, giving him space but wanting to come closer, “I said I'd find you and I did. That's all this is.”

Inhale deeply, exhale slowly; the automatic sense of peace was helpful. “...you didn't say anything.”

(why didn't you say anything...?)

“I know, I know that. I wasn't trying to lie to you, I just didn't know what to say.” Tallen stared at him pleadingly, “You – you didn't know who I was.”

He let out a breath, seeing the look on the man's face and wondering if he should feel guilty.

(...did I do this wrong?)

“I thought you did,” he continued, “at first, when you were putting books out there? The way you were staring at me, I thought you recognized me. But by the time I followed you outside, whatever I thought I saw was gone and I was just a stranger to you.” He ran a hand back through his hair, shrugging his shoulder. “I didn't know what to do, didn't know where to start...didn't want to overwhelm you. So I just...I went along.”

He blew a long breath out, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

(peace...candlelight, sweet smells and murmured voices...it was a mistake...)

“...because of me?”

“I'm not blaming you,” Tallen insisted, “I'm not. And I wasn't trying to hide anything. I – I tried to talk about it, I asked all those questions, I was trying to talk about back then. I was trying to get you to remember, I...I wanted you to remember me,” he said, “...I thought you forgot, everything. Or maybe just me, maybe just what I looked like, I didn't know. It was...I hated it, okay? I wanted you to remember me.”

He ran through replies in his head, excuses, trying to explain what he was like then, how distant and disconnected everything was, still was when he tried to think of it

(red on white...blood and snow and dim empty green...never again, never wanted to see...)

but he didn't know how, didn't know what to say, didn't know how much he understood himself. There was only one thing he knew Tallen wanted to hear; he needed to know if he could give him that.

(...anything I could say...any excuse to give, so you won't...)

The click of a lighter drew his attention back; Tallen had moved to sit on the edge of the mattress, legs folded, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, cigarette dangling from his lips. Pine green eyes met his guardedly, trying to read his expression, trying to judge what he felt; either Tallen couldn't get an impression or he didn't like what he saw, and he watched what was left of his hope fade.

Tallen looked away, staring down at the floor between his feet; after a moment he spoke again. “I – I did lie about one thing. Or it wasn't really a lie so much, I let you assume something that wasn't true and I didn't correct you because – well, I didn't want to get into it.” Fidgeting nervously, taking a deep breath, “When we were talking about group homes, that first night...I let you think I aged out of the system, like you did. I didn't, I never got that far, I – I ran away.

“It wasn't long after I left you. I was trying so hard to get sent back, I fought with everyone about it. I tried everything, I wasn't comfortable here, I liked my therapist better there, I felt I was close to a breakthrough or whatever stupid bullshit they want to hear. It didn't work, so I had the brilliant idea to call up Uncle Harlan and try to tell him the truth. I knew he didn't give a shit about me but I thought maybe he'd care about you, maybe he'd care about someone who didn't have anyone else and needed me there. That didn't work either, he just went right to the staff there and told them what I'd said. Now I was definitely never going back and they were trying to make me talk about this like it was some big problem, throwing around shit like inappropriate relationships and taking advantage and there was no way in hell I was going to listen to that,” he leaned over, flicking ash into the tray by the window almost angrily.

“I'd had it, with everything. So I started planning. I was behaving myself, not drastically or anything, I was going more for like numb acceptance because they never would've bought a total turn around. That way I got privileges, then it was just a matter of waiting for an opportunity and being ready for it. So they took a small group of us to the movies this one day, we had to park the van and take the subway there. On the way back, one of the subway lines broke down so everything was far more crowded, so many people and I saw my chance. I waited until none of the staff were looking at me, when I knew the doors were about to close and I just quickly stepped out of the car and disappeared into the crowd. I had an ATM card I managed to smuggle in and kept on me, so I got some money and I stole a car when I found one with the keys still in it, and I just...took off.”

He sat in quiet surprise, mentally calculating the time between then and now; a long time to be alone.

(I had hoped better for you, I did...)

Before he would've been forced to ask, Tallen continued, “I didn't know if anyone would be looking for me. If it was just up to Harlan then I doubted it, he'd be happy to get rid of me. But being in a group home meant the state was involved, and they might do something. And I didn't want to go back, I didn't want to risk it. I had to hide, find a way to disappear.” Tallen paused, considering a moment, “I'm not even sure how to really...explain, any of this. Except I kind of...fell off the grid? Slipped between the cracks?” He shrugged, “Something like that anyway. And I'm still – still there, still kind of...” Tallen made a vague hand gesture, struggling to find his own words, “Its not like...this, or like anything that you're used to. Things are...well, different, everything's different.”

His eyes cut down to the messenger bag at his feet, newspaper sticking out of the top; he quickly looked away before Tallen could catch it.

“Its kind of a culture of its own, you know? And most of the people there are running away from something, or got kicked out of somewhere or just don't want to be found. I'm sure you can imagine what a world like that would be like, right?” Tallen laughed without humor, glancing up to try and look reassuring, “Its not so bad, for me, really. I've done pretty well for myself. I managed to meet one of the good guys, he kind of took me in, gave me a job, let me work under him like an apprentice sort of thing. And I could take the contacts I made through him and build on them, created a useful little niche for myself. And I've somehow made friends with a few of the big people, so...well, it keeps me safe anyway.” He shrugged casually, “I'm not on my knees and I'm not breaking legs, and for the dumb kid I was going in, that's pretty good.”

He tried not to let the alarm he felt make it into his face; he could feel his eyes widen, his mouth open just a bit, he couldn't stop it.

(“You can't trust that man...do you know what he's made me do?”)

(“...what?”)

(“...calls me an animal. He's certainly turned me into one.”)

“But as good as I might have it, I still...” Tallen turned his head away, staring out the window. “...I've done things, things I'm not real proud of, but I had to, to survive. I've turned my back on a lot more, just looked the other way like nothing was happening, even though everything in me knew it was wrong, but it doesn't fucking matter because that's the way it is there and you don't want to get involved. And the people I count as friends,” he shook his head, “I wouldn't even know where to begin, I try not to think about it most times but I know. But they're what make it possible for me to do business with a psychopath like Daven and walk away every time with all my fingers.

“I know what this sounds like,” Tallen said, pointedly not looking back at him, “I don't excuse anything. I'm not planning to stay forever, if that means anything, I have plans, I always have but plans take time and until then I'm stuck. I can't leave yet, and I can't come back here, so all I can do is deal. And even that's not so hard anymore, not like it was in the beginning. I don't know what that says about me.” He ran a hand back through his hair again, “I don't know if there isn't something really wrong with me, that I let this shit happen to me again, if maybe I don't deserve it somehow. And things weren't exactly wonderful even before that, dead mother, an uncle who hated me, all the shit in the group home, I was damaged goods right out the gate.”

Green eyes turned back to him again, “You were the only good thing I had, then – and now. You were the only reason I didn't believe I was the broken, fucked up, lying piece of shit everyone said I was. Because you liked me, and you didn't like anyone. You were completely shut down in there, people talked like you were hopeless, but...you reacted to me, for whatever reason. And you wouldn't have done that if I was so – if I was as bad as people said.” Tallen shook his head, “That meant more to me than you probably think. Maybe more than it should, if things weren't so screwed up. I hated thinking that you forgot, I needed you to remember me.”

(...it was a mistake)

Tallen put the cigarette out, jabbing it down hard enough to rattle the glass on the floor. “I didn't want you to find out this way, I wanted... But then, even if you remembered on your own, we'd still be having this conversation, huh? I really fucked this up, didn't I? Never think anything through.” He sighed loudly, visibly steeling himself before speaking again, forcing the words out even as he wanted to choke them back, “Look, if you want me to go...I'll go. Just – just let me at least leave a phone number, so you can call me if you ever change your mind. Even if you're never going to, can you just – just pretend that you'll think about it, so I can walk away with some hope that maybe – maybe-”

“Stop it,” he didn't know he was going to speak until he did; had wanted to, yes, wanted to protest loudly, wanted to stop this didn't want to hear it. “Stop it,” there was warmth under his fingertips, along the palm of his hand; Tallen's face was held between his hands, tilted so that pine green eyes could stare up at him in surprise. Tallen held himself still, not wanting to scare him away; however fragile his nerves were, he wasn't going to back away now.

His fingers idly stroked Tallen's smooth cheek, tracing a gentle line down from his temple to his jaw, down along his chin until it bumped up against Tallen's lower lip; his thumb touched the corner of Tallen's eye, stroking across to his ear. “I remember you,” he said, “I remember you. I wasn't...its been years, I didn't expect...so I wasn't thinking...I remember you. You should have said something. I'm not mad.”

Tallen's arms rose and wrapped around his waist, nudging him a half step closer to press up against him. He felt his muscles tense automatically but he stayed standing, moving his hands to Tallen's shoulders to keep from falling forward. Tallen's fingers curled into his shirt, digging at his back, possessive, desperate; Tallen pressed his face into his abdomen, breathing in slowly.

“I'm sorry,” he said, only slightly muffled, “I never meant to hurt you.”

He looked down at the top of Tallen's head; slowly, he moved one of his hands to rest there, running fingers through soft blond hair. “...I know you didn't.”

“Forgive me?”

“...no need.”

“Just say it. I want to hear it.”

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath; felt the man's strong touch, the surrounding silence, this time, this place, nothing else should matter.

(this is what he wants...and what I want, what I always wanted...)

“I forgive you...everything.”

---

At some point later they were lying on the bed, he wasn't sure how they got that way but it wasn't important. He was on his side and Tallen was behind him; not close enough to touch, close enough for the heat of his body to be felt. Tallen ran gentle fingers along his arm, down to the wrist and back up to the shoulder, a comforting gesture; breath blew softly against his ear, rhythmic and soothing. He was reminded so strongly of their time in the home, where brief touches were most of what they could exchange, where they built most of a relationship on that alone; for once, thoughts of the past were not upsetting. He let out a quiet, contented sigh.

Tallen's fingers paused in their movements. “Are you okay?”

He nodded.

“Need me to move?”

He shook his head, “You're...fine.”

“Sure?”

“If I was...I would move.”

“I'd hope so. But see, part of me thinks you're more the type to quietly suffer through a lot before doing something about it. People like me got to be careful.”

He shifted around, rolling onto his back, turning his head to face Tallen. Those eyes, like dark pine needles, were so close; closer than they've ever been, closer than he usually allowed. “...I'm fine.”

Tallen smiled, “So you are,” Fingers resumed their gentle motion up and down his arm. “You've gotten a lot better since then, you know.” The smile widened a little, “I like you like this. Talking, animated. Joking around.”

“...what did you like about me before?” he waited for the answer, wondering what could possibly be said

(what did you ever like about me?)

Tallen shrugged a shoulder, “What did you like about me back then? I was an angry, loudmouth kid, no different than anyone else there.”

He closed his eyes, shook his head. “You were...different.”

(always...somehow...different)

“If you say so.”

He let his eyes open again, couldn't remember the last time he felt this relaxed. “...I never thought I'd see you again,” he said, “I'd given up, long time ago...you never even wrote, you said you would.”

“I wasn't allowed to,” Tallen answered, “I would've, they didn't let me. They were barely okay with the idea when you were just a room mate I was extra friendly with, when you became someone I was blowing after lights out, well forget it. When I said they were trying to make this a therapy issue, I meant it.” Seeing his wide eyed look, Tallen quickly added, “I did not say that, believe me. They came up with their own ideas, didn't want to listen to me. They had us doing shit I don't think we could've gotten away with, though they made me wish I'd tried.”

He relaxed back again, relieved at the explanation; the thought that people then knew anything about the small bit of happiness he'd found for himself was not something that sat well with him, even years later. And besides, a couple of times was hardly every night anyway.

“I was going back for you,” Tallen continued, fingers walking down off his arm, coming to gently massage his hip, “when I first ran away. Couple months later I was driving back there, I was going to get you, get you outside somehow and run off with you. Changed my mind before I was halfway there,” those fingers squeezed his hip, a slight warm pressure, “It was for the best. I spent almost the first two years on my own living in the truck, that wouldn't have been any good for you,”

He frowned, “The truck...that one?”

“Yeah, same one. That's the same car I stole, still have it.”

“She's my baby. Had her since I was fifteen, we've been through so much together.”

“Oh,” he paused, then, “You lived in that? Its...small.”

“I'm not sure how I managed it before, but somehow I did.”

His frown deepened, “It was hard for you...” On its own his hand wandered down from his side, covering Tallen's that still rested on his hip.

Tallen stiffened at first before accepting the touch, turning his hand to hold his, squeezing affectionately. “Its okay,” he said, almost uncomfortably, “I got through it.”

He thought to say something but didn't; he felt worried, wasn't sure if he should be or not.

“When I was eighteen,” Tallen continued, “I tried looking for you. I figured you were on your own, maybe had nowhere to go, and fuck it, I didn't want to wait anymore. So I tried, but you were gone from the home and I couldn't track you out of it. You were just gone.”

“...I'm sorry.”

“Its okay. I mean you said you needed the time away, and its clearly done you good. And honestly, looking back, I'm not sure I could've done you any real good, I wasn't exactly in a very stable position back then.”

“...and now?”

“Better than before,” Tallen said, “I did stop looking for a couple years there when things got – well, busy. I met some people, my job changed, I was doing a lot and I knew it wasn't the time. The good thing about all that is I had more resources when I went to look again, and then there you were.” he smiled tightly, “It still kind of burns me, knowing that you were sitting here so close for two years, like I wasted that time.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Me, too. But hey, its not like we aren't still young, right? We got plenty of time.”

He nodded, feeling himself smile. Tallen let go of his hand, running fingertips gently down along the side of his face.

“So, can I ask you something?” he could tell from Tallen's suddenly brighter tone that he was planning to change the subject; it was just as well, he didn't think he could do much more of this. “And this might be weird, but – well, I want to know. What is with the stuffed penguin?”

He blinked, “That's what you want to know?”

“Hey, I've been carrying the thing for almost ten years now, long time to be curious.”

He shrugged, “You wanted me to give you something, didn't have a lot of time to think...or stuff to give.”

“Where did it come from?”

“...a zoo.”

“In Chicago?”

“I'm not sure...I don't think so,” he had to pause and think, further back and harder to remember, “I was very little, I was staying with this family that took care of me... I liked the animals, at the zoo, I reacted to them – I was smiling and happy, and I never was, I was...not as bad then, as I was when you came, but still bad. The family, they started taking me there a lot, almost every day...I think they were hoping something would happen, a – breakthrough, or...” he shrugged a shoulder, “Didn't happen, but I was still happy. They gave me that on one trip, I think I had more of them once but...well, they were lost, but I kept that one, somehow.”

“Huh,” Tallen nodded, “Good story. Better than the one I made up.”

“What did you – did you think?”

“I didn't get that creative, just figured it was a childhood thing, something from your parents, you know. I didn't know then you didn't have a family.”

He raised his hand up to look at his own memento, rubbing his thumb along the silver band, “I don't remember...hearing about your mother, before. I might not – could be wrong, but I don't think...”

Tallen shook his head, “You probably didn't. I tried not to talk about it if I could, got in trouble every time I opened my mouth anyway. If I was going to tell anyone it would've been you, one of those nights we were alone. I know I thought about it, but I was trying to cheer you up not be depressing.” Tallen clasped his hand, lacing their fingers together. “You can keep it, you know.”

He blinked in surprise, “...I thought you wanted it back?”

“I wanted an excuse,” Tallen corrected, “I mean if I was never going to see you again, that would be one thing. But its not like I don't have it back, if you're planning to stay.”

He felt such relief, hearing that, the promise in it; years of dread lifting off his shoulders, an ease settling in he could hardly remember feeling before, though he knew he had once. With this man

(always with...only with...)

He squeezed the hand holding his, “I'm not – I'm here, I don't leave,” looked up into pine green, “I missed you.”

Tallen smiled, squeezed him back, “Me, too. Every day.”

(too many days...no more, never again...)

He shivered just a little, closing his eyes again; Tallen, recognizing those old signals that he needed a break, gently released his hand, giving him some space without pulling away.

“So, can I ask you something? Potentially overstepping my bounds I know, but I've wanted to say something since this morning and now – well, now that you know, about me, it might at least make more sense.”

He nodded his permission, keeping his eyes closed and focused on his mood, the overwhelming relief.

“Can I – do you think I can stay here tonight?”

He opened his eyes, looking up in some surprise. “...what?” That had not been expected.

Green eyes watched him with concern, “You haven't been sleeping, Frost. Its getting obvious, starting to look like you did then, back when I first met you.”

He frowned; he had only a vague idea anymore the state he was in then, enough to know the resemblance wasn't a good thing. “I keep thinking – dreaming, about...the past. Guess I – know why, now.”

“You used to have nightmares then, I remember that. I helped you with them, calmed you down, somehow.” He smiled a little, “And kept that idiot on the night shift away from you, kept her from hovering over you and making everything worse. Oh man, those people, didn't matter how many times that did not help, they just never stopped.”

He nodded, he remembered well enough the way he was treated, it was one reason he preferred to forget.

“You could sleep when I was there, when I'd sit up and hold your hand,” Tallen said, “I just want to help, if I can, if you want me.”

He paused to think, to consider his mood, condition, his wants and needs

(I need to not think anymore, not worry, not be afraid...I can't go on like this, I want it fixed, like before...he does, too, he meant what he said, he did change his mind...so then...)

“...okay,” it came out in a whisper, the fear was still there wanting to choke it back down, but he didn't want to be controlled by mistakes, by regret, “...okay – stay.”

Tallen looked pleased by the response, the smile was a relieved one, “I'm not asking to sleep in your bed or anything, just so you know. Throw me a blanket and a few of those pillows, I'll be good on the floor.”

“No..” he was battling his nerves now, and it was hard but he knew this was important, it needed to be done. “You don't – don't have to...I can – there's room, here, for you.”

Green eyes widened in surprise, Tallen touched a hand to his face, testing him, “You don't have to, you know that. I'd never push you.”

“I want you to,” he faced the challenge, struggled to keep calm, “I was – was used to this, before. I was – could handle it when...I had to. I want to – I can do it, again.”

“It had been too long,” Tallen agreed sadly, thinking the request over, meeting his determined gaze. “...I won't touch you.”

(since when can you keep that promise?)

“And you can kick me out any time you need to, just-”

He shook his head, leaning into Tallen's hand, “I won't – need to.”

---

He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, wiping away stray drops of water running down his face from his shower damp hair. He poked gently at the bruises under his eyes; Tallen was right, he did look awful.

(“He doesn't love you.”)

(“He was only ever going to break your heart.”)

(shut up...shut up and go away...you won't ruin this for me, not again...)

(“So much for going slow. I think that counted as sex.”)

(...better)

Deep breath in, breathe out; he was calm, as relaxed as he knew how to make himself. He was ready, he could do this, it was going to be okay.

I trust him...I do. I'm safe here. He'll stop if I need it, and he wouldn't...wouldn't...

(doesn't matter...its forgiven...)

He moved quietly out of the room, turning the light off before opening the door. It was dark and still, peaceful, silent; he tiptoed across the apartment, toward the bed, his vision adjusting enough to be able to see.

Tallen was in bed already, the exhaustion of the last few days having caught up to him, the man had barely been able to sit up anymore when he departed for the shower. He knelt at the edge of the mattress, looking down at the man in his bed, laying on his stomach seemingly asleep. He noted the contrast of golden blond hair and sand colored skin against white sheets and blue comforter (and yes, the contrast of black ink, those two loops over his shoulder that could be seen); he noted the bed was smaller than he'd ever thought it was, there barely seemed enough room left for him. He noted his anxiety was low, more pleased at the sight than frightened of it.

(I'm safe here...with him, again...)

One green eye cracked open, hazy with sleep, turning in his direction; the visible half of his mouth curling into a lazy grin, the other half of his face buried into a borrowed pillow, golden hair already messy. His breath caught in his throat

(I'd forgotten...he's beautiful...)

“Come here, you,” a hand peeked out from under the comforter, fingers beckoning him near.

He didn't think he was breathing, he could feel his heart beating steadily all the way down to his toes; his body knew the movements it was supposed to make and it didn't need his mind to work. He found himself lying back in bed in his same familiar spot, the new and unusual wall of heat right next to him.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling, breathe in and out; ordered his muscles to relax, his mind to calm, told himself again and again it was all right.

(is this how it was the first time? Is this how I did it then, adjusted, learned to like it? It just takes time, then it won't need to be forced...this is what I want, all I ever want...)

In the dark sensation was heightened, he let himself feel; he could feel that wall of heat shifting closer and closer to him. There wasn't much room and it wouldn't be long and there was a knee bumping into his and a brush at his side; then a heavy arm draped over him, fingers curled around his bicep, dragging him closer.

(every time...how did you think you could keep a promise like that?)

Breath blew lightly on his cheek, a nose nudged at his temple; lips trailed along his skin, slow and delicate, up to the corner of his eye and moving lower.

He was tense but he didn't want to move; swallowed thickly and made himself speak, “Tallen? Are you...awake?”

“Hmmm,” an unintelligible noise he thought was meant to translate as yes, but sounded more like not really and I won't remember this in the morning.

He felt the path Tallen's mouth was taking, knew where it would end up; knew that if he wanted to he could elbow the man and he would stop, and that was comforting and allowed him to stay put. When those lips touched the corner of his mouth, no amount of mental preparation could lessen the heat shock that went through him, the gasping moan that escaped his throat

(too sensitive...like the first time...)

and he felt the smile against the side of his face, heard Tallen chuckling softly.

(but he likes it...could never resist...)

A leg draped over his and Tallen's body stilled, relaxed; his head lowered to the pillow, face still pressed against his own, breathing evening out, he seemed to be falling back asleep.

(so familiar...its easier, this way, when its all so familiar...)

“There's no one else,” Tallen mumbled the words at his cheek, otherwise not moving.

“Hmm?” he questioned, not certain he'd get a response, not certain this wasn't half asleep nonsense.

Tallen stirred, the sudden light movement causing him to shiver and bite back more sounds. “When I was gone. There wasn't...anyone else. Just you. Only you.” A pause, “Wanted you to know that.”

He closed his eyes, silent

(anyone and everyone...everyone but you...)

“I love you.”

The kiss, when it finally came, was gentle, a soft undemanding press of lips; pleasant, any anxiety quickly overwhelmed and faded back. Tallen was still in the same position, head turned to the side, unmoving at first in surprise before tentatively returning the gesture; it was him that had turned, reached out, made the first move.

He didn't know if Tallen meant to say that, didn't know what he would remember in the morning; he said the one thing he knew Tallen needed to hear.

“...I know you do.”