Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cursor blinks up at Evan.

Keeps blinking.

Just like it has been for the past sixty-four minutes, at the top of a blank page that should be his personal essay for the common app, but.

Is, instead, infuriatingly empty. He wants to write that he’s not going to get into college anyway, so this whole thing is pointless and he’s just doing it for his mom, just doing it so she doesn’t worry so much. He considers calling Alana and begging her for help, but that would just be admitting defeat and at this point he just needs to sit down and get it done, he needs a win.

It’s pathetic that he can’t just do it. That he keeps getting locked up in his head so tight that he can’t even put a few hundred words down on paper and come back to revise later. Somehow he’s gotten it into his brain that he needs to do it all at once and it has to be absolutely perfect the first time around or it won’t be right, he won’t get in anywhere, it won’t be good enough for anything because it won’t be real.

Everyone says to write what you know, and all Evan knows is his stupid brain is fucked up and he’s obsessed with Connor Murphy and he’s some kind of freak loser weirdo.

He’s going to lose his mind. Sooner or later, his neurons are going to start going to the completely wrong receptors or something, or he’s going to hit his head and get a brain bleed and lose all normal function and his mom will have to put him in a special, expensive rehab hospital where he will live the rest of his life stuck to a bunch huge machines that probably use so much electricity, probably use enough electricity to power a whole city block, just to keep him alive even though he’ll be brain dead and unresponsive or something and his mom will just have to quietly suffer and live with her half alive son in the expensive hospital until she can’t afford it anymore and has to sell her teeth and hair on the black market. Unless she turns to sex work or something, which like. Evan’s not a prude but he doesn’t want to think about his mom getting paid to have sex with people. God. God, he’s absolutely going to implode.

The cursor blinks up at him. He blinks back.

He had not intended to spend this much time staring at a plain white screen, and yet.

Exams start tomorrow. He’s barely studied.

This essay is going to be the death of him.

Plus, he still has scholarship essays to write. So he needs to get this done, like, a week ago. Should have done it at the beginning of the year like Alana. This is so stupid. It’s so unbelievably stupid.

He’s stupid.

He has to get this done tonight. No way is he working on it during exams, and he can’t save it until winter break because he’s writing the scholarship essays then. And there’s the whole going to Colorado thing, which he can’t say he’s looking forward to.

It was a surprise. Early Christmas present from his dad. Two round trip tickets, one for Evan and one for Connor, because. Because. His dad remembered the phone call, remembered Connor saying Evan was his best friend, but apparently forgot that he walked out of Evan’s life when he was little and hasn’t made much of an effort since then, apparently forgot that Connor called him on his bullshit, apparently forgot that Evan’s Jewish. So. He doesn’t really do the whole Christmas thing anyway, and doesn’t know what to expect from his dad because he’s never been with him for Christmas.

Never really been with him at all.

Like, are they going to church or something? Does Evan have to know prayers? What if Mark tries to get him baptized or converted or confirmed or whatever? What the fuck would even happen? And do they expect him to wear a cross? That would be so weird, that would be absolutely, astonishingly terrible, wouldn’t it?

Maybe Evan should get out his kippot, just to remind Mark. It might be kind of… kind of funny to see his reaction, Evan thinks, if he wore a kippah to church.

What if his dad is a raging anti-Semite now?

Shit.

He can’t go. He can’t go, he can’t go, he’s just going to have to call and cancel and tell his dad that he will not be making it to Colorado because he’s allergic to airplanes or something, maybe say that Connor actually invited him to go out of the country forever and Evan’s taking him up on the offer, just like going to live in Italy for the rest of his life and not take any technology with him so he doesn’t have to talk to anyone ever.

What if his dad figures out that he and Connor are a thing? What if he figured it out and thinks it’s disgusting and terrible and kicks Evan out and says he’s glad that he left, he’s glad that he divorced Evan’s mom and moved halfway across the country because he knew Evan was going to turn out messed up and wrong and bad and-

And Evan knows Mark doesn’t want him. Logically, he knows. But he has this little flicker of hope inside him that maybe if he can just be good enough for his dad, he’ll change his mind. Maybe he’ll decide he loves Evan again.

Probably not. But maybe.

There is so much Evan doesn’t know about himself, so much he wants to learn that he can’t figure out when he’s worried about what everyone else thinks. Like. Like, is he gay? Is he bisexual? Are there… are there other words for how he feels? There has to be, right, because the weird conservative kids at school always post dumb shit about how there’s like, a thousand different terms and they can’t keep up with it. Surely there’s not a thousand, but there’s definitely more than Evan knows of. And. And the idea of putting a label on himself kind of freaks him out, but he doesn’t know how to not do that because people are always asking these big, philosophical questions like so, Evan, who are you? and it freaks him out because he doesn’t know. He just. Doesn’t. Know.

It’s this stupid fucking common app essay question.

He can’t stop wondering how to be himself when he doesn’t even know who he is, and everyone always says to just be yourself when you’re answering these questions. So. So he can’t answer, right, because he just doesn’t know.

So the cursor keeps blinking while Evan tries to think of something to write about that doesn’t make him sound like a total freak. God. All of the prompts sound like total bullshit when he thinks about it- there’s so many that have to do with adversity, and perseverance, and problem solving, and identity. Which. Shouldn’t be a big deal, won’t be a big deal to people who are normal or whatever. Or, like, rich, straight, cisgender white boys with two parents and emotional stability.

Because they can just write about a fond memory or breaking their leg in a wake boarding accident, but if you come from a background of economic insecurity or you’re an ethnic minority or you’re gay or you’re an immigrant or you’re mentally ill, you’re expected to write about that because that’s what makes you different, that’s what makes you unique. It’s supposed to make you stand out.

Which will always be total. Fucking. Bullshit. Because they tell you to be honest and real and yourself, whatever that means, but what they really want is to read about your tragedies and decide which one will make them look best. They want you to write about how hard your life is so they can declare you a success story and brag about their campus diversity and inclusion programs.

Evan should write about how these essays are stupid. That’s what Connor would do.

He’s going to have to get on Connor about finishing his own common app.

In the end, Evan ends up writing about the summer his dad left. How he learned to see his mother as a human being, how he learned what anxiety felt like, how he watched the moving truck pull away and felt, for the first time, like his world was too empty for one little boy.

He grits his teeth and fights through the embarrassment. It feels inadequate and stupid and like he’s just asking to be pitied, but he sends it to his mom to read through before he submits it and forces himself to close his laptop and lay in bed. He should be studying. He should be trying harder. He should be figuring out how to be less of an utter fucking failure, but he’s just.

So worn down.

It’s the kind of tired that sets you on edge and makes you want to stay up all night, because you know if you go to sleep you’ll just have nightmares and wake up with a headache and be miserable for like two days. Like, your body is exhausted but you can’t shut your brain off so you’re thinking in circles and you end up curled up in a weird shape that leaves your back all stiff the next morning and you clench your jaw so your teeth hurt.

That kind of tired.

On nights like these, he used to stay up reading until his eyes got itchy and burned when he blinked, because that was really the only way he could get himself to sleep hard enough to not have nightmares. He briefly debates texting Connor, but it’s already past eleven and Connor should be sleeping, because he has his stats exam first thing tomorrow morning. And Evan has his psych exam. So. So they should both be sleeping right now. Or studying.

Evan can’t bring himself to do either.

He clicks through his social media pages and scrolls through his YouTube recommendations and even the news app before getting so relentlessly bored of his phone that he thinks about throwing it against the wall, just for a second. It’s too late now to take a melatonin so he’s just going to have to live in this horrible state of terrified exhaustion until he dies. Because. Because that’s what is bound to happen, he’s going to just sit here until he dies and his mom will come home late tonight and find him with blue lips and cold hands in bed and have to figure out what happened to make him lose it like this and just freeze in bed like a fucking idiot, like the disaster that he is. And maybe he should remind Heidi to take out a life insurance policy on him, because he’s bound to kick the bucket sometime and with his luck it’ll probably be sooner rather than later.

Maybe he should call Alana. She’s almost definitely awake cramming right now, and they have the psych exam together tomorrow morning, so it… it might be helpful to get her input on what he should study. Not that it even matters, because he’s going to fail regardless, because that’s just what he does, he just fails at everything he tries to do and it’s ridiculous, really, just how bad he is at existing.

This is dumb. He should really just go to bed, just try to shut his brain off and get sleep. He’ll do better on the exam if he gets enough sleep. Or, really, any sleep at this point. Anything would help. He knows it would.

He just can’t get there.

—-> Connor :) 11:16 PM: u up
The alert startles Evan enough to get him a little bit out of this weird place he’s in, and he has to grin at the message.

It’s just. So stupid. And like, he knows he should be encouraging Connor to go to bed right now, but he’s wanted to talk to him for hours and it makes him feel better for a second.
—-> Connor :) 11:17 PM: cant sleep. sos
—-> Connor :) 11:17 PM: can i call?
Instead of responding, Evan just dials Connor. He picks up within the first ring.

“So… I take it you’re up, then?”

“Go to sleep, Connor,” Evan says. He fights to keep the yawn out of his voice, but it escapes at the last second. “Sorry.”

“Were you sleeping?” Connor asks, conversationally, because he knows Evan won’t just hang up on him, even though they should both be well asleep right now.

“No,” Evan admits begrudgingly. “But we both need to get some rest.”

“Can I drive you to school in the morning?” Evan can hear Connor pacing, now. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just that he only really paces like this when he’s really stressed, and it takes everything in Evan to keep himself from walking over to the Murphys right now.

“If it’s- if I’m not a hindrance,” Evan says. “Of course. How are you feeling about stats?”

“Honestly? Not great,” Connor sighs. “I didn’t really. Uh. Plan to take this exam?”

“You can’t just skip exams,” Evan starts, but. But then he realizes what Connor meant. He didn’t plan on taking any exams.

“I was just dying to get out of them, though,” Connor deadpans.

“That’s not funny.” Evan’s sitting up in bed now, heart pounding. It’s. It’s not funny, not to him. He’s not ready to joke about it yet.

“It’s kind of funny.”

“You- Jesus, Connor,” Evan says. There goes any semblance of sleep, right out the window with the last of his sanity. “I have to go, okay? Go to bed.”

“Wait, wait, did you finish your essay?” Connor asks. Evan hears him sit down in his cushy desk chair and imagines that he’s putting his feet up on the edge of the bed. Probably in fuzzy socks, because he’s always cold and it’s so embarrassing that Evan knows this much about Connor’s personal, like, body temperature and style choices. He has these black fuzzy socks that look like cats, like there’s a little face embroidered on the front of them and the top has two tiny triangle ears and they’re stupid soft.

Evan is kind of obsessed with them. He’s pretty sure Cynthia and Zoe got them at Bath and Body Works or something. Which is. Like. Really sweet. Because Zoe gave them to Connor while he was inpatient, and Evan remembers the phone call that night, how Connor had been so overwhelmed at the little gift. He could have written his fucking essay about those socks, but no, he had to go be a sad sack child of divorce.

“Uh, yeah,” Evan says. “I did finish it. It’s terrible.”

“Can I read it?”

“Why?” He doesn’t mean to sound so suspicious but, like, what if Connor reads it and decides he’s over being with such a lame person, what if Connor confirms just how terrible Evan knows it is, what if he copy and pastes it all over the internet because it’s so bad he thinks it’s funny, what if he hates it?

“... Because you’re like, my favorite person and I love the way you write?” Connor says. Which. Which has to be a lie but Evan is starting to believe it. “Listen, I’m not going to make you send it to me. I just. I don’t know, I just thought it would be cool to read.”

“No, yeah, duh,” Evan says. He’s stupid. So fucking stupid. “Yeah. Uh. Sorry, sorry,
I just. Wasn’t. Uh. I wasn’t really, um, expecting you to be interested?”

“Of course I’m interested,” Connor says, voice soft. “Evan, of course I’m interested.”

That. That hits Evan really hard.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Sorry. I’ll send it right away. Um.”

“I’m sure it’s fantastic,” Connor says. “Shit, you should get to sleep.”

“You too, Connor,” Evan says, checking the time. It’s later than he thought. “What time will you be here?”

“Around 7:30 sound okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” Yawning, Evan lies back down.

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

He’s falling asleep before he even hangs up the phone.

~~~

Connor barely got any sleep, and Evan can tell as soon as he’s in the car. He’s pale in the pasty, sickly way that he gets when he’s not feeling great. When he’s really stressed or sleep deprived or just bad in general. And his eyes are kind of swollen, like he can’t really open them all the way.

He doesn’t say anything when Evan gets in the car.

He’s wearing long sleeves again. Which. Like. Objectively, doesn’t mean anything. But Connor has tells, and Evan has wisened up to them. So when Connor tugs at the ends of his sleeves, when he shakes out his hands before doing anything, when he lets his gaze skate over his wrists in an attempt to be casual- Evan knows.

Just. Just in his gut, he knows.

Connor brought hot chocolate for them. Without a word, he hands Evan a cup and waits for him to buckle in before pulling away from the curb. If he was a brave person, Evan would demand Connor pull over immediately and tell him to spill, to get everything out and explain what is going on because this isn’t normal anymore, this shouldn’t be normal but it feels like it’s going to be and Evan isn’t sure if he can handle Connor slipping away again.

“Connor.”

“Evan.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Connor shrugs, and Evan watches the way his shoulders don’t come back down fully, how they stay up around his ears. Defense posture.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Evan says. He’s. He’s getting tired of being scared all the time. It might be easier to feel like he’s not fucking everything up constantly if Connor would just talk to him when things get hard instead of icing him out like this. “Did you… did you take your medicine this morning?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Connor snaps. “Jesus Christ. Yes, mom, I took my meds this morning. Fuck.”

“Don’t- don’t get mad at me for worrying about you,” Evan says. He’s trying to keep it together, he really is, but Connor right now is so close to being Connor two months ago that Evan could believe all of the good stuff recently has been a dream. “I’m. Allowed to care about you.”

Connor ignores him.

“Connor. I care about you. Okay? I care about you and there’s- there’s nothing you can do about it.” They’re pulling into the school lot and Evan is still trying to figure out where to go from here. It feels impossible. This whole thing feels impossible. “Now can you please just tell me what’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Connor kills the engine and gets out of the car.

So much for a nice drive to school with his best friend.

~~~

Evan’s not even sure why he worried so much about the psychology exam. He’s enough of a basket case at this point to have most of the DSM memorized, purely from exposure. And the actual test is all multiple choice, so even if he guesses he has a 20-50% chance of getting it right.

His new meds must really be working wonders if he’s able to talk himself down so thoroughly.

Or. Or he’s just getting worse. Like his depression is getting to the point where he doesn’t have it in him to care about… anything anymore.

So either he’s getting better or getting worse and he really, honestly can’t tell anymore. He doesn’t know what functional people feel like. There is no benchmark for him, no point of reference. It’s not like he had some big life event happen that made his brain stop metabolising chemicals the right way; he’s just like this, and always has been. He doesn’t have any kind of before.

All of this is just to say that he doesn’t know what “better” is supposed to feel like.

The psychology exam wasn’t as difficult or scary as he anticipated and he can’t get his stupid fucking brain to be happy about it. How messed up is that? Jesus. God.

He just. He feels like there’s something missing, like he skipped a step or got the wrong test or stumbled into an alternate reality. Maybe he just has home court advantage; mental illness is kind of his trademark at this point. Probably he didn’t even do well, his brain just kind of clocked out and made him think he had the right answers when in reality he was just filling in random bubbles. Maybe he was in some kind of fugue state. Can he remember any of his answers? Does he have any recollection of the past fifty-ish minutes?

Jesus, he’s really cracking up, isn’t he?

He needs to talk to Connor. He needs Connor’s cold hand on his knee and his laughter and his private, genuine smile.

Alana meets him in the hall after the exam is over. She looks as torn up as Evan feels.

“Was that… was that really easy?” She asks, quietly enough that Evan knows she’s not trying to assert her accomplishments for once. She’s like, actually as confused as Evan is.

“I can’t decide if it was easy or if- if I’m just so stressed I’m in an altered state of consciousness,” Evan says. They walk down to the cafeteria together- technically, it’s the only place in the school where talking is allowed during exams. Alana informs him that she doesn’t have an afternoon exam, but that she’s staying at school to study and work on a couple projects. It seems almost impossible that Alana doesn’t have an afternoon exam, but Evan isn’t going to press her on it; she has enough going on as it is. Then he remembers that Alana is taking a handful of independent study courses because she tested out of pretty much every regular class as a freshman and had to go to the guidance counselors and figure out what to do. It was a Big Deal for a while because there were rumors that Alana was actually a government agent sent to monitor their school, or that she was some kind of super-human with a computer chip in her brain that allowed her to store vast amounts of information. (Truthfully, she’s an overachiever with some pretty poor self esteem. Evan knows this now. At the time he was fairly convinced about the computer chip thing).

Hardly any freshmen had classes with Alana that year. She was ahead of everyone. It was kind of scary.

Connor comes shuffling into the cafeteria about ten minutes after Evan and Alana, looking more awake than before but just as miserable. Evan resists the urge to meet him halfway to the table and just grab him, pull him into a hug like some kind of weird PDA freak right in the middle of school. It. It would be nice to be able to do that, wouldn’t it? Without having to worry about what everyone else thinks?

“Hey,” Evan says, watching Connor carefully as he slips into the chair beside him. He pretends for a moment that they are alone a million miles away, that he can touch Connor freely in all the ways he wants. In that place, Connor has short sleeves and no new scabs and the easy smile he gets when he’s relaxed, when he’s distracted from everything. In that place, Evan can just accept that sometimes things are easy and simple and not just a trap, not just tricking him into getting comfortable.

Connor doesn’t say anything in response. In fact, he barely acknowledges Evan or Alana. He just slumps forward and lets his head fall to the table, pillowing it on his crossed arms. He’s in a mood. A Mood. Which is potentially a very bad thing but could just be because he’s tired. Or because the exam was hard. Or because he’s sick of being seen with Evan. Or because he’s sick of being alive.

Alana, for her part, rolls with the punches. She shifts her schoolwork over so Connor has more room to do… whatever he’s doing, and picks up conversation with Evan right where they left off. Does not miss a single beat. It’s kind of incredible.

“So I was thinking we could all get together at my house for New Year’s Eve,” she says, scratching neat notes into a legal pad. “I know we’re not… I know we’re just acquaintances, but. I thought it would be nice to have some people over.” She doesn’t look up when she speaks, but Evan knows her well enough at this point to see that she’s nervous.

“I can- I’ll definitely be there,” Evan says, and Connor makes a non-committal noise.

“Be where?” And Zoe is sliding into the seat beside Alana, leaning over to see what she’s writing. Her hair swings down across Alana’s page, and (Evan guesses) on some kind of weird, girl reflex, Alana tucks it back behind Zoe’s ear for her.

“My house,” Alana says, immediately brighter. “I was wondering if you guys would like to come to my house for a New Year’s Eve celebration.”

“Thought you would never ask,” Zoe grins. Alana grins. They grin at each other. There is an awful lot of grinning going on and Evan is definitely missing something. Probably another girl thing. Don’t they get synced up on… stuff? “What’s wrong with him?” Zoe asks, nodding towards her brother, who has not acknowledged her either.

Connor just gives her the finger. It would be funny if Evan wasn’t a little bit freaked out by this whole situation.

At least Jared doesn’t have any exams today. He’s only taking easy classes this semester, and most of his finals are just projects. So. He really has no reason to come to school for the vast majority of this week. Which means he has no opportunity to rag on Connor for being a downer.

Evan hooks his ankle around Connor’s under the table, and Connor- well. He presses basically his entire leg against Evan’s, so they’re touching from thigh to ankle and it’s. It’s. A Lot. It’s more contact than they’ve had in days.

The warmth from Connor’s leg bleeds through to Evan’s skin. He feels electric where they touch. It sets him on edge in this new, almost amazing way; he’s waiting for the next move, anticipating the next point of contact, and it’s a little pathetic. He knows it is. But he can’t change the way his stupid brain makes him react to this stuff, and he’s kind of going crazy right now from just this simple, mundane motion Connor made. The whole thing could have been purely accidental, which just makes it worse. He can’t keep himself from over analyzing every instance they have touched recently. The casual intimacy of Connor’s pinky finger curled around his own, of a warm mouth pressed to his forehead. It’s these little stolen instances between seconds that make Evan want to just throw himself into the Hudson River. Which. Is. Unhealthy, right, it’s…

It’s not normal. But like. He just. He can’t stop thinking like that. And it’s not like he means it in a bad way, it’s not like he’s ashamed to be seen with Connor or to touch him or to feel the way he does about him, it’s just overwhelming in this way that his brain short-circuits around, and apparently his solution for all of his weird issues is to kill himself, so.

Recovery is a work in progress to say the least.

Evan wants to hold Connor’s hand, to cradle his cheek, to press himself into the curve of his spine. He would do all of that right this second if they were alone. He would beg Connor to hold him if he had to. Life has a funny way of throwing wrenches in every wish Evan makes, though, so of course they are in the middle of the lunch room, of course Zoe and Alana are here, of course Evan doesn’t know if they know, if Connor has told either of them or if they’ve figured it out or if they’re completely oblivious.

Does Evan want them to know? Does Connor?

A small part of Evan is terrified, but a bigger part of him belongs so thoroughly to Connor that he feels like he should get Connor’s name tattooed on his forehead or something for the whole world to see, so there will never be another doubt in anyone’s mind. He’s honestly a little surprised that no one has been able to, like, tell or whatever. A little surprised that his mom hasn’t asked more about the whole “I’m not straight” thing. A little surprised that he’s been able to keep himself from kissing Connor in public.

It’s like. All he can think about sometimes. That, and what sex would be like. Which freaks him out a little bit, because he feels completely unprepared for it if (when?) it happens and he can’t just ask someone how to do it, can’t just google it, can’t just come out and tell Connor that he’s thinking about it so much and is still so scared. It’s not even the sex part that scares him, it’s everything else. Like, what if he says something stupid or does something to ruin it, what if Connor thinks he’s ugly and gross and changes his mind? How can you build walls around yourself for eighteen years and just let them fall for one person?

So he thinks about it a lot.

Neither Connor nor Evan have afternoon exams, so they leave as soon as they’re able.

Evan thinks Connor relaxes the tiniest bit when he exits the building and gets in the car. He drives back to Evan’s house without even asking, and as soon as they’re inside he’s wrapping his arms around Evan and pressing their mouths together.

“What’s that for?” Evan asks. He can feel how red his face is, the skin tight and hot.

“I missed you,” Connor murmurs, pulling Evan closer. “I just missed you.”

“Okay,” Evan says. He runs his fingers down the back of Connor’s neck, following the notches of his spine down to his hips. He makes a silent promise to kiss each vertebrae when he gets the chance. Leaning his head against Connor’s chest, Evan listens to the steady rhythm of his heart and thinks about the machines in the hospital beeping with each beat. After a few minutes, Connor pulls away and shrugs off his backpack, avoiding Evan’s eye the whole time. Evan does the same (except without the whole no eye contact thing). “I still have the bag you gave me that day,” he says, even though it’s probably the worst thing he could bring up right now. “Sorry, I just. Your. Your new backpack reminded me, I’m sorry-“

“I don’t. I don’t really, uh, remember… that week?” Connor says, squishing himself up into the corner of the couch. Evan comes to sit beside him, and Connor’s arm is almost immediately around his shoulders, pulling Evan down to rest against him. Talking is easier when you don’t have to look at one another. “It’s. Really fuzzy.”

“Do you want me to tell you what I remember?” Evan asks. Because suddenly, it’s imperative that Connor knows how scared he was, not to make him feel guilty or ashamed, but so Evan can make sure he understands how loved he is. How loved he’s been.

“I don’t… I don’t want you to have to think about it,” Connor says. “If you don’t want to.”

“I think about it a lot.”

“Oh.” Connor moves his hand, squeezes the bend of Evan’s shoulder.

“You didn’t really talk to me that week,” Evan starts. He takes Connor’s hand and holds it tight. “It was… it was hard. I was really mad at you at first, because you lived with me for like, what, two weeks? And then it was like we weren’t friends anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor says. “I really am.”

“You don’t have to be.” Evan turns his head so his cheek is against Connor’s chest, ear to his heart. Focuses on the slow, steady beat. “I… I think I could tell something was wrong but I was too chickenshit to make you tell me. Um. And, like, you skipped school a lot that week.”

“I had another bucket list,” Connor murmurs. “I didn’t finish it.”

“What didn’t you get to?”

“I wanted to kiss you,” Connor says. Months ago, Evan would have been embarrassed by his admission, but now it sits like a warm coal in his chest, heating him from the inside out. “When we were in the orchard, I wanted to kiss you. But. I. Was scared?”

“You could have. I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me since day one.” Evan shifts so he’s lying more comfortably, and Connor moves a little, too. It’s probably weird to be wrapped around each other like this on the ratty old couch, but it’s the safest Evan has ever felt. Yawning, Connor tightens his arm around Evan’s shoulders, pulling him closer, closer. “Before we left, you gave me this bag of stuff, and I should have- I should have known, I should have called you on it and made you call 911 right then. But. I. I was just relieved that we were still friends.”

“You have no idea how close I was to spilling my guts,” Connor says. Evan looks up at him; his eyes are closed, and he looks so peaceful for once. “I. Was, like, terrified the whole time we were there. That you would figure it out.”

“I wish I had. I wish I had been brave enough to make you tell me what was wrong.” Connor presses a kiss to the top of Evan’s head and holds him a little tighter. “Connor?”

“Hmm?”

“You know I… you know I would do anything for you, right?”

“Me too,” Connor murmurs. He’s falling asleep, Evan can tell, but it’s okay. It’s great, really, because he needs it. “You have… no idea. How much you mean to me.”

“Go to sleep.” Evan kisses the underside of Connor’s chin, right on freckle number twelve. “You need to rest.”

“Stay,” Connor says. “Don’t… Don’t go.” Evan loves the way his voice gets when he’s sleepy. It’s softer, gentler. Younger. Like when Connor is sleepy, he’s less sad. Like the weight of the world is finally off of his shoulders.

Connor falls asleep pretty quickly, and Evan’s not far after him. He sleeps better- they both sleep better together than they do apart. It’s kind of embarrassing.

But it’s also kind of wonderful.

~~~

Evan wakes up to the sound of the key in the lock and sits bolt upright, startling Connor awake, too. And he looks so confused and scared and young, and it breaks Evan’s heart to wonder what he was dreaming about to make him look this way. He’s on the other end of the couch in half a second, putting an admirable amount of distance between himself and Connor before his mother makes it through the door. Which. Which is stupid, because Heidi has seen them close to one another like a billion times, has seen them squished into one hospital bed and seen the way they touch and seen the sloppy affection. But. That was before and everything is different now, everything is more. And Connor just gives him this look that Evan can’t read and clenches his jaw and looks away and it’s terrible, it’s just so terrible, it makes Evan’s chest hurt. Jesus.

Needless to say, they feign casualty when Heidi comes in with bags of Chinese takeout and a weary smile on her face.

She just looks so tired.

Maybe going to Colorado will give her a break. Maybe while Evan’s gone, she will be able to take time for herself and relax instead of worrying that her kid is going to have a freak out and throw himself out of another tree. Or that she’s going to go into work one morning and see Connor there in the ER again.

She deserves a break. She deserves to have a son who has a basic will to live.

“Hey, guys,” she says brightly. Evan takes one of the bags from her and brings it into the kitchen, just for something to do with his hands because he can’t figure out what else to do with them and ordinarily he would be touching Connor somehow but right now there is this super weird energy between them and Evan is going to have a major Bad Moment if he doesn’t figure this out right this second, if he doesn’t do something and fix this because Connor is just sitting in the living room alone and he probably thinks Evan is ashamed of him, probably thinks that curling up together like that was crossing some boundary that he was unaware of and-

And Evan is spiraling, apparently.

“I’m just- bathroom!” He chirps, rushing down the hall like he always does to lock himself in the bathroom and lay down in the empty tub like some kind of freak. He’s wigging out, really wigging out, and he has to take care of it now because if he doesn’t, Connor and Heidi are going to know he’s losing it and they’re going to ask if he’s okay, if he needs anything. If they can do anything to help. And he’ll say no of course I’m fine I’m great everything is fine because he needs to suffer on his own for some reason. Can’t do it very well around other people.

In the tub, he loses his concept of time. It’s cold and it’s making him shiver but he just has to stay here for now because if he doesn’t everything is just going to be so much worse. So he has no idea how long he’s been lying there when Connor comes and sits down against the side, back to Evan, legs stretched out in front of him, a puppet with his strings cut.

He doesn’t say anything. Evan doesn’t say anything, either.

Connor breaks the silence eventually. “So,” he starts, still facing away. “Your mom’s pretty worried right now.”

“Cool,” Evan says, because he’s an idiot, just an absolute idiot. “Thanks- thanks for the update.”

“You’ve been in here for like, fifteen minutes, dude. Dinner’s getting cold.”

“Do you think my mom knows?” Evan blurts. He can’t ever be normal, can he? It’s just not in his cards. “I mean. I mean about… us.”

“What, that we’re dating?” Connor asks. Evan imagines how red his ears are right now. “I mean. I don’t know?”

“Are we- are we dating?” Connor leans his head against the lip of the bathtub, turning to look at Evan. It’s silly, but it’s the soft kind of moment that Evan wants to preserve in a snow globe to shake on bad days. Because Connor has this look on his face like he’s completely relaxed, like he’s having a genuine conversation that he is engaged in, like he actually cares about what Evan says but isn’t scared or anxious or anything about what it is. Like. Like he really trusts Evan. Like he really trusts their environment. Evan sits up.

“We’re not not dating,” Connor says, gently. Sitting like this, they are practically nose to nose, and Evan is distracted by the speckles in Connor’s eyes and the curve of his lip. “What do you want?”

Anything with you, Evan thinks. His heart is in his throat. It’s stupid, but this feels so huge, so intense and real and terrifying. “I want to be together. Like. Like together.”

Which is probably the absolute worst way Evan could have said that, but Connor is so close to him and he can’t really think straight because he can feel Connor’s breath on his lips and he’s going to combust, come completely undone in about three seconds if Connor doesn’t just lean in and kiss him. The edge of the bath digs into his side where he’s leaning against it, but it’s fine, it’s great because he’s getting to have this intensely private moment right now that could literally kill him if he makes the wrong move, and Connor is looking at him like he’s special, like he’s important, and his lungs must not be taking in enough oxygen because he’s getting dizzy. Like actually dizzy.

“So we’re together?” Connor breathes, looking at Evan through his eyelashes and Evan almost gasps because Connor slips a cold hand back into his hair, raising goosebumps all over Evan’s body and it’s ridiculous, this is ridiculous. He’s got himself contorted to stay sitting on the floor but somehow reach back enough to touch Evan and it’s like. Really. Distracting. Because his shirt is too short and Evan can see a strip of skin at his waistband and he wants to touch that skin so bad, he wants to press his mouth to it and taste it which is weird, it’s weird but he can’t stop thinking about it.

“Yes,” Evan says. Connor moves his hand down to the back of Evan’s neck and rubs slow circles there with his thumb. “Yes, we’re together.”

Finally, blessedly, Connor closes the gap between them. The hand that had been on Evan’s neck comes up to hold his face. Both of them have chapped lips but it’s fine, it’s fine because that doesn’t matter when you are kissing someone you would do anything for. Evan leans forward, and Connor somehow ends up kneeling in front of the tub and it’s so embarrassing, they are literally making out over the edge of an empty bath that Evan lays in when he’s panicking, but then Connor kisses the hollow at the base of Evan’s throat and all of his insecurities go out the window.

Connor’s mouth is warm and his hands are cold and he is the best person Evan has ever met.

He feels like he’s floating right now. Like despite how fucked everything is, he’s somehow above it all, stretched out and watching the chaos of the world spin around this moment with absolute passiveness. All that matters is that Connor is touching him intentionally, leaving invisible fingerprints on Evan’s cheeks, his eyelids, his chest.

Is it weird that he likes the way they fit together?

Is it weird that he likes the way Connor tastes?

“We should get dinner,” Connor says after a few minutes of this same messy, slow romance. “Your mom’s going to think we made some kind of suicide pact.”

“No,” Evan whines. He has climbed out of the bathtub and onto the floor beside Connor so he can squeeze Connor’s thigh or follow the curve of his hipbone up to his belly or trace where he knows Connor’s ribs sit in his chest. “Don’t want to stop.”

“We have to,” Connor says, dipping his forehead to Evan’s chest. “Come on.”

Dinner goes well. Better than Evan expected. Heidi doesn’t even look at them funny when Connor’s left hand leaves the table to rest on Evan’s thigh. Which is, like, the biggest relief because Evan was convinced that she was going to see them being casually affectionate and force them to sit down and go through The Talk together, because she wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t address it and it’s her job as a nurse and a mom to educate young people on this stuff which would just be absolutely humiliating, just terrible and embarrassing and Evan would probably throw up in Connor’s lap or something and then it wouldn’t matter if Heidi knew about the relationship because Connor wouldn’t ever come around again or want to associate with Evan in any way.

So.

Good that they avoided that.

“What exams do you have tomorrow, Connor?” Heidi asks, passing Evan the Lo Mein.

“Actually, Evan and I have English together in the afternoon and I don’t have a morning one.”

“Thought you had art,” Evan says, confused. Because Evan has Environmental Science, so Connor should have art. Right?

“Nope.” Connor pauses for a minute to chew his food, hand over his mouth. Like he’s embarrassed to be seen eating, like he’s self conscious about the way he chews or something. And Evan hates that he’s feeling something bad about food now, as if he doesn’t have enough to deal with as it is. “It was- it was just a project that I finished, like, last week.”

“Oh,” Evan says. “Oh, okay.” And he can’t help but feel disappointed, for whatever reason. It’s okay. It’s fine. it’s not like he can’t do things by himself, it’s not like he’s completely reliant on Connor. He just has to ask his mom for a ride, and remember to get up on time. No big deal at all. But.

But what if Connor stays home and smokes weed all day and forgets about English? What if he takes the morning to plan a new way to kill himself and writes another bucket list? He already said he skipped kissing Evan last time- what if now, since they’ve made out a ton and are on the same page about the relationship, he decides his bucket list is complete and he doesn’t have anything to stick around for anymore?

“...staying the night?” Evan registers Heidi ask, and snaps back into the conversation.

“Uh. I’ll… I’ll have to call my mom, but if it’s alright with you and Evan, I would. I would like that.” Connor pushes a piece of broccoli around, cheeks and ears red. Heidi just looks at him with this fond expression, like he’s her second kid or something and she’s just amazed at him.

Does she ever look at Evan like that?

“Of course it’s alright, sweetheart,” Heidi says, face soft. “You’re always welcome here.”

After dinner, Connor calls his mom. It’s okay with her, he says, as long as he promises to get up in the morning and go to school with Evan so he can study for the English exam.

Which. Makes sense. And it works for Evan, actually, it really works for him because that means Connor has to drive him to school tomorrow and he gets to talk to him in the morning and he doesn’t have to worry that he’ll do something while he’s alone. It means Evan doesn’t have to ask Heidi for a ride or walk and worry about freezing to death on the way to school.

It also means that Evan and Connor are going to share a bed again. Because. Because at this point it would be weird for one of them to sleep on the couch, right, it would be even more suspicious, Heidi would definitely catch on that Something Is Awry, but she would probably think that Evan had a panic attack and flipped his lid and made Connor go out into the living room or something.

He’s overthinking this. It’s not like anything has really changed; they’ve been close since the moment they became friends. Neither of them knew how to be, like, normal or whatever, so. So they were hands on and messy and attached right away. The truth is, Evan likes that their affection came so easily.

When they go upstairs, Connor takes Evan’s hand and holds it like it’s precious, and Evan wants to cut that hand off and frame it, to say, look, somebody chose me, over and over, somebody chose me.

~~~

The voyage to Colorado was… not as easy as everyone promised it would be. For one thing, Evan and Connor were both exhausted after exam week and couldn’t be bothered to pack on time, so they each had separate meltdowns the night before they left home over what to bring. At the airport, Evan got pulled for a random TSA check and Connor didn’t, which just made Evan’s anxiety peak and definitely made him look super suspicious, and the TSA people had to keep explaining to him that he didn’t do anything wrong and that the system was randomized but he felt terribly guilty the whole time and couldn’t stop thinking about someone slipping drugs into his carry on while he was in line at the airport Starbucks or something so by the time he got done, he was near tears and Connor had to lead him to the gate and get him a bottle of water to calm down.

Then, of course, the gate got really full and Connor actually had to like, hold Evan’s face in his hands and insist that he was right there because Evan was so overwhelmed with the whole thing and it was just. Really terrible. People kept trying to talk to Evan if Connor left to get them something, and Evan just had to sit there and take it because there was no way he was leaving their bags and he wouldn’t be able to find Connor anyway because the airport was so big and even when he tried to remember where Connor said he was going, he lost the plot and couldn’t figure it out before he started spiraling again.

There were too many people and it was cold and Evan was confused and anxious and embarrassed and Connor was probably really embarrassed, too.

The actual plane ride wasn’t too bad. Connor let Evan take the window seat and raised the armrest so they could lean on each other. Which. Was really, really nice. Evan slept for most of it, and when he woke up, Connor was holding his hand.

Mark and Elaine picked Evan and Connor up in Denver and took them to lunch. Which would have been alright if Evan wasn’t so fucking scared all the time, so jumpy and nervous and weird, but he was and every time Connor touched him while they were out Evan pulled away, just pulled away from the contact like it made him sick and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t let Mark see them like that.

So now it’s around midnight and Evan is lying awake in one of his father’s guest rooms, pretending to want to be here and pretending to be excited and pretending to be okay. Connor is somewhere down the hall, Evan thinks, but this house is huge and infuriating and it makes him sick to his stomach, just sick with rage and something worse. Something more bitter. Even though his heart is racing in his chest, he is grounded by his contempt for this stupid house and this stupid situation.

Mark and Elaine and their two perfect fucking children even have a heated in-ground swimming pool. The little girl, Evan’s little sister, was so happy to point it out when they got home, to say that last year, they got to swim on Christmas for a little bit. And Evan was furious at her for it.

That’s sick, right, to be so angry at a little kid that you can’t see straight? It’s not like she did anything to him, and even if she had she’s still just… just little. But Evan is still mad, it doesn’t matter that she is like ten years old, he’s so upset that she gets this beautiful life and he’s stuck begging for scholarship money over the internet.

At twelve thirty, Connor climbs into bed with Evan wordlessly, wrapping his arms around Evan’s middle and holding him while he cries and cries and cries.

He hates crying.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Connor says after some time, wiping at Evan’s wet face. “You don’t have to, but I’ll listen if you want.”

Evan’s ears are ringing and his head hurts and his eyes feel like they are made of dry hay and his throat is sore and his shoulders are all bound up and he’s got the back of Connor’s shirt clutched so tightly in his hands that his fingers are cramping. And Connor- Connor is the most beautiful person Evan has ever known. He’s breathing slowly, deliberately, even though Evan can hear his heart going a mile a minute. “It’s not fair,” Evan whispers.

“No, it’s not,” Connor replies. He kisses the top of Evan’s head. “It’s not fair at all.”

“I still love him,” Evan says. He’s mostly done crying for now. “Isn’t that- that’s so messed up, that’s so fucked up, right?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so,” Connor says, slowly. “You’re allowed to have whatever feelings you have, Evan.”

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Evan says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Evan.”

“No, listen, I’m sorry. I- I never should have… I shouldn’t have, like, dragged you into my life like this.”

“Evan, come on.” Connor’s voice drops, just slightly, just enough that Evan knows he’s scared. “Don’t- please don’t talk like- you didn’t drag me into anything, okay? I want to be here. I want you.”

Honesty comes easier in the dark.

“I’m so scared of messing this up,” Evan admits, and he knows Connor knows he’s not talking about his dad, or this trip to Colorado.

“Me too,” Connor says. Evan reaches up to press his mouth to Connor’s, just for a second. You couldn’t mess this up if you tried, Evan thinks, and kisses him again, and again, and again.

~~~

Mark figures out that Evan and Connor are together before anyone else. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been around to see how Evan and Connor were before they started dating, or maybe it’s because he’s familiar with clandestine relationships, but he pulls Evan aside on the second day to talk privately about it while Connor helps Elaine wrestle the kids into snow gear. Apparently it snows just as much here as it does at home.

“Evan-” Marks starts, putting his hand on Evan’s shoulder and cringing when Evan jumps at the contact. Thankfully, he lets the hand drop and instead leans back on the arm of the couch, doing a bad job of acting casual. “Buddy, why didn’t you just ask me if you and Connor could share a room?”

“Uh.” Evan is frozen to the spot, halfway between sitting on the arm of the recliner and bolting out of the room. And he hates the way Mark says buddy, like they know each other at all, like he’s allowed to be friendly and kind after everything. Like he’s ever been anything more than a footnote on Evan’s birth certificate. Because even before the divorce, he was never really around. “What. Do you mean?”

“Well,” Mark says, rubbing his eyes. “Elaine and I came to check on you guys this morning.” All of the blood in Evan’s body has somehow collected in his face, he’s sure of it. He’s waiting for the final blow, the big revelation that Mark secretly hates gays and wants them both gone before dinner. It would make perfect sense, wouldn’t it? For something Evan has no control over to drive his dad away again? “Bud, you… You should be… You should be able to talk to me about this stuff, if you want. I never want you to feel like you have to hide things from me and Elaine. Or from your mother, for that matter.”

“You’re… not. You’re not, um, mad?” Evan asks, watching Mark’s face for any sign of disappointment, any flicker of anger or disgust.

“Oh, buddy, of course not. Of course not,” Mark says. His eyes are sad. Fury and shame twist in Evan’s stomach; in some terrible, ugly way, he had been hoping that Mark would give him another reason to hate him. Another reason to leave Colorado and never come back. “You’re my kid. I love you no matter what.”

“You… you haven’t really. You haven’t really been there for me, you know?” Evan says, biting his lip. He doesn’t care right now. He doesn’t care if Mark’s feelings are hurt, or if Mark calls him disrespectful and ungrateful and a terrible son, because it just. Doesn’t matter, does it? He’ll never see him again if he doesn’t want to. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what Mark thinks. “I… I needed you, and you were gone.”

“I know,” Mark says. Evan can’t look him in the eye anymore. “I haven’t been your dad for a long time, not really. Your mom… She’s kept me up to date on some stuff over the years. But. But that’s not her job.” Mark sighs, and Evan knows the shape of that sound because it is the same one that comes from his own mouth every day. “I really fucked up, Evan. I’ve never been more sorry for anything in my life.”

It’s not the apology or the curse word or the admission of guilt that throws Evan this time. It’s not even the identical sighs. “You still talk to my mom?” Evan asks, because apparently that’s what his brain has decided to get hung up on right now.

“Not often,” Mark says. “But we catch up once in a while, yeah.”

“But she hates you!” Evan blurts, clasping his hands over his mouth as soon as he says it. Jesus fucking Christ. Mark, to his credit, just laughs. Which. Which is weird, right, and a little fucked up and it shouldn’t feel like he could get used to that sound again, he shouldn’t have missed his dad’s laughter like this. He should never have come to Colorado. He wouldn’t have, if he had known it would feel like this. “I am so sorry-”

“She probably should hate me, after all the shit I put her through,” Mark chuckles. He stands up and offers a hand to Evan, who had sat down without realizing it. For just a moment, he allows himself to wonder what it would be like to have his dad back in his life. He would have family back home and family halfway across the country and he would have two siblings, two little siblings and a stepmom and a room in their giant house. He would be able to go skiing, maybe. He might not worry about money so much, might have someone to help pay for college, might be able to breathe for once in his life. He would have to relearn how to have a dad.

He would have to let himself be known.

He’s not too keen on the idea of allowing a perfect stranger into his life so intimately. It’s hard enough, weird enough that Connor knows him so well, that his mom knows him so well. He can’t do that with another person. Being known and understood is basically his worst nightmare, because. Well, because what if someone learns too much and decides that’s that, decides to be done with Evan entirely because some part of who he is just doesn’t fit with their concept of him or something.

Still, though. It’s his dad, his dad who says it’s okay for Connor to sleep in his bed and hold his hand and openly admits that he’s fucked up royally. It’s his dad whose laugh he’s missed and who taught him how to sigh. So.

So basically he’s fucked.

Mark gestures at Evan like lead the way, like way to go champ, and Evan can’t help but wonder what turned Mark into some kind of tv dad. It’s a little uncomfortable, a little unnatural, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. They walk back to the kitchen together.

Connor catches Evan’s eye just as Elaine is ushering the little ones into the backyard. She had woken them early, apparently, and shoveled breakfast into them so they could get into the snow as soon as possible. Evan gives him the tiniest nod before sitting down beside him at the breakfast bar.

“Good chat?” Elaine asks, opening up the freezer. Evan likes that she doesn’t have to be looking at you when she wants to talk to you. It makes talking easier, sometimes.

“Good chat,” Mark answers, patting Evan on the back. “So, if you guys want to move Connor’s stuff into Evan’s room, Elaine and I will handle breakfast?”

And just like that, everything is kind of normal.

~~~

“Connor,” Evan starts, late that night when the house is quiet and still and he can’t turn his thoughts off. Beside him, Connor turns and presses his forehead into Evan’s shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Let’s go do something stupid.”

“What kind of stupid shit can we do in suburban Denver?” Connor asks, lips warm against Evan’s skin. “No offense to your dad, but this place is lame.”

“We can do all kinds of stupid shit,” Evan says. Can Connor hear the way his heart is pounding right now? “I think I know where the liquor cabinet is.”

“Hate to break it to you, but we can’t drink with our meds, dude,” Connor reminds him. Which. Like. Fair enough, but not exactly what Evan wants to hear right now.

“Okay, true,” Evan concedes. “Okay.” Still, though, he’s a little angry, a little confused. He has to do something or he’ll explode or burst into tears again and that would just be the icing on the cake at this point, wouldn’t it? He has to do something. He has to do something. “Okay. Uh.”

“Wanna come outside and watch me smoke?” Connor asks, which is enough of a non-sequitur to throw Evan off for a second.

“I mean, I guess?”

The house is silent as they creep through it to the back doors, plodding across plush carpet and bumping into the huge leather sectional and tripping over the decorative rugs that Elaine insisted were authentic, antique Persian rugs from her travels abroad. It’s silly, Evan thinks, to sneak through this giant, empty house like he really cares if Mark catches them in the backyard past midnight wearing nothing but their pajamas and their parkas, as if he gives a single shit about Mark lecturing Connor for smoking. At this point, he’s pretty sure he would laugh at any directions or insight or whatever Mark tried to give him.

And then they are outside, and it’s freezing, and they are laughing like idiots because what the fuck were they thinking, there is snow on the ground and they’re in their pajamas and even so, this feels more like home than the guest room or the kitchen or sitting in the living room with his step family.

They stand at the edge of the pool while Connor smokes. He was trying to quit, but his doctor told him not to until they get his meds balanced, so. Sometimes he uses patches, but secretly, Evan thinks he has an oral fixation and needs the action of smoking more than he needs the nicotine. He wishes smoking wasn’t so attractive. Watching Connor draw in and hold the smoke is…

It’s. Something.

“What?” Connor asks, grinning. “Is there something on my face?” And it’s exactly the sentence Connor said two months ago in the orchard, exactly the same intonation and cadence and it makes Evan’s heart pound a little harder, makes his mouth dry up. Does Connor remember any of it at all?

For a second, Evan is stuck there. Back in the golden, limitless field with the knowledge that there was something black growing inside of Connor getting ready to swallow him whole. Too scared to say anything. Slamming on the breaks. Connor blinks at him. “No,” Evan says, shaking his head. “No, you’re perfect.”

Connor finishes his cigarette with one long drag and stubs it out of the bottom of his shoe before slipping the butt into his coat pocket. It’s kind of cute that he’s so considerate of the fact that they’re not at home. “Okay,” he sighs. “That was my stupid thing. What now?”

Evan wants to get in this dumb fucking pool before they leave, and he says as much. Surprisingly, Connor flat out refuses.

“No,” he says. “You can, but I’m not going to.”

“Connor, please,” Evan whines. Which is not something he likes doing, but apparently it’s becoming a normal thing now. He’s already stepped out of his shoes and he was halfway out of his pajamas when Connor said no, so he’s kind of in a jam here.

“For one thing, it’s fucking cold out,” Connor says, perfectly calm and dignified and normal, even though Evan is a little desperate to do something that could potentially make his dad mad. He just. He just has to get a small rebellion in. “And for another, I don’t even own a swimsuit, so.”

“So we’ll go in our boxers,” Evan insists, taking Connor’s hands. He doesn’t know why this feels so important all of the sudden, like he’ll actually lose his mind if he can’t do this one thing, like he’ll combust and they’ll have to ship his ashes back home in a Christmas box to his Jewish mother. “Please.” He shrugs off his parka and gets Connor’s halfway down his arms before Connor steps back and tugs it right back up.

“Evan.” Connor shakes his head, wrapping his coat around himself like he’s trying to shrink away, like he’s trying to disappear. And Evan is just standing there like a fucking moron in his boxer shorts and bare feet and he’s freezing, he’s absolutely freezing and this is humiliating and he feels so exposed, so naked, even though he’s almost certain that Connor has seen him change before and- Evan watches Connor’s chin tremble in the wavering light reflecting off of the pool. “I don’t want to, okay, I just don’t want to.”

Here is when Evan realizes that maybe this was not a great idea: Connor makes a sniffling sound, and looks at Evan in a way that says something significant and terrible and heavy, and he clenches his jaw and crosses his arms and won’t make eye contact anymore.

Some part of Evan knew, he thinks, that Connor never really stopped. But he ignored it and pushed it down and looked away and now he can’t, now he has to know and has to make Connor feel better and has to do something, something because he’s going to explode in a second if he doesn’t at least try. So he steps back into Connor’s space and takes his hands and folds himself into Connor’s coat, wrapping Connor’s arms around his waist and listening to his heart beat. He wants to say that he’s been in love with Connor for months, that he’s loved him through everything, that he doesn’t have to hide anymore, that Evan is here and isn’t going anywhere. Like, ever. But he just stands there in his bare feet wrapped around Connor and trying to keep him from disappearing.

“Whatever it is,” he says, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, trying to keep the panic from seeping in. “You know I am with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” Connor whispers. He sounds so sad. “I ruin everything, I’m sorry-“

“No you don’t,” Evan says. He presses his hands flat against Connor’s back, spreading his fingers wide, like he can catch all of his pieces if he tries hard enough. “You’re the most- Connor, you’re what makes everything bearable.”

They stand in silence for a little while, and Evan pretends he doesn’t feel the way Connor shakes, pretends they are inside and at home and alone in the kitchen, waiting for Heidi to get home or doing homework or something normal. Something that isn’t in Colorado.

Eventually, Connor pulls away. “How… how warm do you think the water is?” He asks, to Evan’s surprise.

“Violet said they swam on Christmas Day last year,” Evan says, trying to hide the grin working it’s way across his face. “So… warm enough?”

And then Connor is stripping out of his pajamas and his coat and his shoes and socks and grabbing Evan’s hand and jumping into the water without so much as a backward glance. The world explodes with light and warmth and Connor is still holding his hand.

When they come up for air, Evan holds Connor’s face in his hands and thinks about how beautiful he is. Connor smiles at him, one of those real smiles, and kisses him hard and long. It’s like being lit on fire in the best way possible, and they’re treading water and soaking wet and Evan’s getting tired but he feels like he could stay right here for the rest of his life. He makes a point of not looking at Connor’s arms when they pull apart, just keeping his eyes on his face and trying to commit this moment to memory; Connor, face wet, eyes gleaming, hands on Evan’s waist and foreheads pressed together. Nothing matters right now except the breath they share and the way their noses bump together and the drops of water on Connor’s eyelashes.

Connor sighs, and it is the most beautiful sound Evan has ever heard. With the blue-green light from the pool dancing across his face, he looks like he could be from another world entirely, somewhere where things don’t hurt so bad. And he has the tiniest dimple at the corner of his mouth when he smiles the way he only does for Evan. God. God. Clumsily, Evan closes the distance between them again and laughs into Connor’s mouth, because they’re both smiling too wide for this to be good at all and they cracked their teeth together and it kind of stung but it doesn’t matter at all anymore.

Every place Connor’s hand trails on Evan’s skin feels new. Alive. Reborn. Like when they get out of the pool, he will be an entirely new person. “Connor,” Evan starts, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to say next but he just wants to keep doing this forever. He wants to do more. He would do- will do everything it takes to keep Connor in his life because this is the most right he has ever felt, the most real, and he knows Connor feels the same. Connor’s fingers skate from Evan’s back to stomach to chest to throat and his mouth follows, shoulder to chin to mouth. Still, Evan wants more. “Connor, please.”

Connor’s thumb is resting in the hollow of Evan’s throat, and Evan can feel it move every time he breathes in, every time he whispers something, every time his heart beats. For a second, Connor pulls away, but Evan drags him right back and holds him close, legs tangling together under the water.

“I love you,” Connor gasps when they break apart. “I’m so in love with you, oh my god.”

“Me too,” Evan says, pulling Connor back to him. Kissing Connor is the most natural thing he’s ever done, he thinks. He wants to touch every scar on his arms and tell him there’s nothing he could ever do to drive him away. Connor could never ruin this. It’s just. It’s just not possible. At this point, losing Connor would be like losing a lung. Mouth at Evan’s pulse, Connor says it again and again, I love you I love you I love you and Evan has to fight to keep his breathing under control because nothing has ever felt like this before, nothing has ever made him feel so free. They splash back to the stairs, laughing and shivering and cursing at the cold air, and somehow end up back inside without falling.

“Evan, Evan,” Connor whispers. “Shh.” Because they’re laughing as they stumble through the house and crash into furniture on their way back to the bedroom. “Oh my god, it’s too dark.”

“Hurry up,” Evan tries to say but it comes out all garbled and cut off because of Connor’s mouth against his again. Finally, they get back into the guest room and the bed hits Evan in the backs of his legs and they tumble down, tangled and messy and perfect.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Connor says, pulling back. “We’re soaked.” Through the sliver of moonlight creeping in from the window, Connor catches Evan’s eye. There is something new in his gaze, something heavy and bright and real. His fingers slip under the waistband of Evan’s boxers and pause there, questioning, asking for permission.

“Yes,” Evan says. Nods frantically. “Yes, Connor, please.”

“Are you sure?” Connor asks, and Evan has never loved him more, never wanted him more. Again, he nods. Shyly, almost self consciously, Connor tugs at the waistband until Evan has to lift his hips and slide all the way out, letting Connor’s hands rest on his bare legs and touch the mark the elastic left on his belly. “You’re perfect,” Connor breathes. “God, Evan.”

“Connor,” Evan starts, and there’s a question in there somewhere that he doesn’t know how to ask, but Connor gets it and nods and kisses Evan’s throat while Evan pulls his boxers off, too, and then they are both bare and cold and alive, so alive. It’s beautiful. The whole thing is beautiful. “I love you. I love you.”

When it finally happens, Evan is the one to touch first, to press his fingers into Connor’s skin and ask if he can keep going. Hands everywhere, legs tangled together, soft sighs and gasps and pants. Even though they are gross and cold and smell like chlorine, it’s the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to Evan. Just making Connor feel good, getting to watch his face and feeling his body move under his hands is enough. He could die happy, just like this.

“Can I touch you?” Connor whispers against his mouth, fingers tracing the curve of his collar bone. They’ve ended up side by side, curled toward each other, two parentheses with nothing between them. Connor’s knees knock against Evan’s.

“Please,” Evan says, and it comes out a lot less desperate than it feels, which he’s glad for. Gentle, gentle, Connor leans over and maneuvers them so he’s propped up over Evan, who has been laid flat on his back. Connor is so careful and slow with him that he wants to scream, but it’s perfect, it’s everything. He likes being prone like this, likes that Connor is guiding him. He especially likes when Connor grips his hip so hard he can feel his fingernails. He’s breathless and Connor is shivering and Jesus, fuck, Connor’s mouth is warm on his pulse and his laugh tickles and his hand is so close, so close.

Evan could drown in the feeling of Connor’s hand wrapped around him like this. “Is this okay?” Connor asks, as soon as he’s really touching him, and all Evan can do is nod his head and bite his lips and pull Connor back to his mouth. It’s overwhelming. For once in his life, Connor’s hands aren’t freezing, and that, too, is something Evan is grateful for. In this moment, everything belongs to them.

Evan cries into Connor’s mouth when he finishes, which is slightly embarrassing but he’s too happy to care.

“You’re amazing,” Connor says as they clean up in the en suite bathroom. Fucking rich people. “You- God, Evan. You see me. You really see me.”

There’s nothing Evan can say that will be an adequate response to that. Nothing. So he sets down his washcloth and kisses Connor on the mouth, on the palms of his hands, in the bends of his elbows. He doesn’t say anything about the bandaids or the pink scar tissue or the flaky scabs. He just holds Connor a little tighter in bed that night, looks at him a little harder, tries to pick through everything he knows about him to figure this out. To figure out how to make it stop.

~~~

The rest of the trip is pretty mediocre. They don’t swim again; in fact, they both woke up with runny noses and itchy eyes the next morning, so swimming in the cold was probably not the brightest idea either of them had ever had. Not to mention Evan can’t really look at the pool without remembering what happened, and he turns beet red every time which is absolutely a dead give away and he really doesn’t need his dad to figure out that he and Connor went for a night swim and fooled around in the guest bedroom right after. On the bright side, Mark and Elaine are trying to raise the kids in an “open faith household” or something to that effect, which means they actually talk to Evan about Hanukkah and Violet even asks him to tell her the story of the Maccabees after dinner one night, so. That’s objectively pretty cool.

One hundred percent without a doubt Elaine's idea, but still very cool.

Evan and Connor both call home a couple of times. More than ever, Evan is grateful for everything Heidi has done for him, and he tries to tell her as much but she starts crying and then he starts crying and it’s a giant mess, so he doesn’t bring it up again. And Connor actually talks to Larry. Like, goes out of his way to talk to him.

Which just makes Evan even more upset about Mark, and he knows it’s stupid, he knows he should be happy for Connor, but he also knows Mark is never going to have a redemption arc in his story. He’s just such a gray zone. And yeah, he likes Elaine and he likes his siblings but they don’t belong to him in the same way his mom does. They feel more like distant cousins than immediate family. So. So he’s not really sad to leave, exactly, not sad that he didn’t rekindle the father-son relationship, but he is kind of devastated and furious that somewhere along the line Mark decided there was something about Evan that wasn’t worth trying to be a dad for.

He sees how he is with Violet and Elaine and David, and he wonders what was so different about himself and Heidi.

But at least Larry is trying with Connor, right? It’s kind of cool when he calls, because it’s like watching Connor become a kid again. He’s genuinely happy to have his dad back. They’re making up for lost time.

They come back two days after Christmas, and Heidi picks them up from the airport. On the flight from Denver to New York, Connor and Evan discussed at length how they were going to explain that they were together to their parents, but it all goes out the window when they actually get to the baggage claim because Heidi sees them and runs to them and hugs them both so tight that Evan just says it, just says they’re together because he can’t keep it in any longer, and Connor kisses him right in front of the whole world, and it’s an absolute disaster but probably what had to happen.

“Oh, boys,” Heidi says, and bursts into tears. Which is not what Evan expected in the least. “I’m just so happy for you.” So she hugs them both again, and by the time they get back to the car she’s back to normal.

So.

It’s kind of a weird homecoming.

But in a couple of days, they’ll be ringing in the new year at Alana’s and Evan already knows that next year is going to be so much better. So much better.