Chapter Text
He tried not to think about it. That this could be the last time he’d feel Gav inside him and hear his name moaned like he was the only man in the world. The last time the scent of their sweat and their sex would have his head pleasantly spinning. He’d asked to be on top. He wanted to greedily drink in every last inch of Gav that he could see.
…But he tried not to think about it.
He tried not to think about it. That this might be the last time he felt Gav’s warm, solid body beneath him, long limbs twining around him, making him feel safe, if only for a little while. The last time he would feel the blonde’s calloused fingers threading through his hair. Usually, he’d purr at the touch. Not this time. He closed his eyes, filing the gentle glide of his lover’s fingers away in his mind.
…But he tried not to think about it.
He tried not think about it. That this ring, once his grandfather’s and thus too large for Gav’s finger, and a sincere but accidental proposal—one that he’d simply blurted out after an emotional night a few months ago, was all that he’d offered his love. Both seemed so pitiful and hollow when one was standing on the edge of an abyss, looking back.
Gav didn’t want promises and Clive could hardly blame him for it. Clive made his promises silently to himself. I’ll come home to you. I’ll have a ring forged for you, one that actually fits—one you deserve. I’ll propose to you properly. You’ll want for nothing as long as I breathe.
…But he tried not to think about it.
He tried not to think about it. That he may never see Gav again, that all his silent promises would go unfulfilled. Clive hugged his friends, kissed Jill’s tear-stained cheek, and found himself rooted to the spot by Gav’s gaze. That solitary eye, with its iris the color of a leaf with the sun shining through it, full of false cheer.
Gav’s cheeks were flushed and damp beneath Clive’s palms. He’d been crying before he’d put the sunny mask on, for the sake of their friends.
Gav’s lips tasted of salt. Clive gently brushed his tongue against the long-healed scar on his lover’s upper lip, committing it to memory. Clive was lingering. He knew it. He didn’t care. He refused to rush this kiss. In case it was the last.
…But he tried not to think about it.
He tried not to think about it. The way Gav looked standing there as Dion carried them away. Alone. Afraid. Small. Only growing ever smaller until the clouds swallowed them up and Clive could see his love no more.
Clive swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. Set his jaw. He would see Gav again.
…But he tried not to think about it.