Work Text:
The car rolls up silently to a side street. Outside the sky is burning amber, the sun setting off in the distance, behind rows of houses. Windows mirror the clouds above.
Almost broken from a trance, Morse sits up in the passenger seat, scanning the area around them for danger.
His gaze looks towards Thursday who’s sat beside him, hands away from the steering wheel.
Eye contact is fleeting.
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about, Morse?”
Regaining eye contact, Morse only blinks, not quiet knowing what this was.
Thursday makes a noise, as if the other should already know, but twists in the seat to look at the younger.
“For months now, you’ve been happier and even smiling, something I wasn’t always sure you were capable off.” Morse isn’t sure how to take that, instead throws a glance out the front window. “Suddenly you seem, quiet. Distance. Not as happy.”
Eyes glance around the car, fixating on items. The handbrake, Thursday’s eyes, out the window. The silence stretches until Thursday speaks.
“Is it something to do with me?”
The reaction time on Morse’s behalf is incredibly fast.
“Yes.”
Thursday’s eyebrows raise.
“No.”
Thursday’s eyebrow furrow.
“I mean, I,” Morse inhales deeply. Just doing so brings tears to his eyes. Any breath out might mean crying - crying which won’t stop.
He looks outside to his passenger door. He thinks about just leaving it till the next time Thursday asks. He can have a proper think of what to say, of ways not to cry when he says those words. But he’s been too truthful so far, he’s always been truthful to Thursday.
“Do you want me to be truthful. Sir?”
It almost agitates Thursday. Morse has to try hard to stop the crying. He defiantly blinks, but a tear manages to escape, falling into his lap.
The older freezes for a moment. Morse looks up the roof of the car, tries to stop the tears, but they’re starting to flow. The hole inside of him starts to seep into his limbs and into his head.
It’s too late.
“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”
All the ways he thought of saying it, all the ways it could have gone. Some in this car, some in his house, some when he leans over and closes the distance between them both.
But now. It’s been said, and it doesn’t feel like it’s that important.
But it means everything.
All he can do is look down into his lap, feeling the cold droplets of his own tears fall against his naked hands. Morse wipes them away.
“Oh, lad.”
A cry and laugh hiccups from Morse. It’s such a normal response for Thursday, but he can hear the other’s emotions behind it. But he can’t decipher them.
He wants to run, face it all another day. It’s Friday, he has the weekend to think it through, to write his resignation letter.
“Have I-”
“Lead me on?” Morse completes the sentence. In all honesty, he could say Thursday has. The small touches, the small words, the small things that could be brushed away but can mean so much. But, even without them, Morse knows how it would have played out.
“No.”
The silence fills the car, it’s thick and heavy and ringing in Morse’s head. He can’t stand it.
“And I know that you can’t,” the tears want to flow harder, “I know that you wouldn’t,” the emptiness seeps through his whole body.
He can't bring himself to say that word, lov-
There’s a noise from Thursday, as though about to speak. Morse gasps, trying to breathe through tears, can’t hear if Thursday does speak.
“I wasn’t meant to tell you, I was just going to tell myself the truth.” Morse knows he doesn’t have to continue, doesn't have to explain, but he’s body forces him too.
“It wouldn’t work. Never work, not now. You have a family, a wife and children and a house, and I couldn’t expect you to give that up, couldn’t expect you to change your life for me. Then, just,” Morse actually makes a laugh, “Gender. Our age difference, most people don’t accept those type of things. And you have friends outside of me, I can’t believe that I’m the one you think about when you aren’t even thinking. That I’m important to you, more important to you, then anyone else you know.” The tears flow slower, but Morse feels robbed. He wants, needs to cry.
“I can’t expect me to be who you are to me. And I just have to accept that.” I have to accept that you can't love me back.
A quick look to Thursday. Just an expression, a gaze. He can’t decipher it, but it chokes Morse.
More tears spill. Fists clench. A heart like lead.
“But it hurts. God, it hurts, so much. I don’t know why it hurts and I can’t stop it from hurting.”
Hands are on him, one of his left elbow, the other on his back. They bring him forward, closer to Thursday, and into a hug. Morse wants to fight it, doesn’t need Thursday to make him happy, doesn’t need Thursday to make him better.
But Morse goes, gladly, into the other’s arms. Morse doesn’t want to be so dependent on him, but he is. Since he's fallen for the other, any future results in heartache. He didn’t want that, but it was all too late.
“I didn’t want us to change,” it’s broken and loud and ugly.
The hand on his back tightens around him, whilst the hand on his elbow comes to his hair, both holding Morse in place. He isn’t sure if it to protect him or so he can’t run away.
Morse plants his face into the other’s chest. He inhales deeply, the other’s scent surrounding him. A scent that he could smell at times, random moments, even though Thursday was never there.
Clutching to the other’s jacket, Morse closes his eyes. It’s almost indulgent, of what it could have been like. Morse tries to stop the cogs in his head, tries to enjoy the experience. He steals the moment from Thursday – something of comfort, Morse takes it, twists it, knows it will only be there for that moment before it’s gone forever.
The tears slow, till they stop pooling on Thursday's shirt.
“I don’t know what to do,” it’s broken and quiet and scared.
A breath.
“We’ll figure it out, lad.” A kiss lands in his hair.
It breaks another flood of tears from Morse.
He never wanted the consequences. He never wanted to hurt him or Thursday. He never wanted to fall in love.