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“What's wrong?”
It was a simple question, one that should be easy to answer. One that’s open to a just as simple “nothing,” or an easy “I'm fine”. It's not rocket science, not brain surgery, not an inquiry about the answer to all of life’s problems; just a question. A concern for his well-being. It should make him feel warm , if not a little anxious, generally good.
Complete silence.
Tanner pulls him a little closer, strokes his cheek with a gentle thumb and looks into his eyes. He’s worried, he cares.
“Puppy, what’s wrong?” Tanner repeats, tone pleading but it's obvious he's not about to push it any further.
The tears that prick at the corner of Hayden’s eyes burn , and he doesn't know why. Doesn't know why they hurt, why they’re so bitter and sharp to his core, why he’s even crying . He doesn't understand, but it's not stopping them— a few drops, a slow trickle down his cheeks as he stares back into Tanner’s eyes, his own wide and pained and afraid.
Tanner looks scared too, but not in the same way, nowhere near in the same way, and Hayden feels bad. Tanner looks guilty , like he's afraid he said something wrong, afraid he fucked up somehow and now Hayden is in tears because of it. Tanner’s grip on Hayden falters a little, loosens in just the slightest and Hayden can feel it. He's afraid of it. It makes him tremble, makes his ears go flat and his tail stick itself to his body. He fucked up .
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry ,” he sobs, tearing his gaze away from Tanner’s, squeezing his eyes shut. The tears are streaming now, racing down his face and drenching Tanner’s collarbone that he’s nuzzled into. Tanner doesn't say a word, wrapping his arms tighter around his boyfriend’s shaking body. He doesn't know what to do , doesn't know what to say or even what's wrong . It's scary.