Work Text:
They were on tour.
Brock swears they are always on tour.
But this time it was different. This time they weren’t sleeping together.
There were no strings.
There were so few strings in fact, that they had barely said two words to each other for the past month. Brock has no idea how it happened. How their relationship went from being this safe space to being the main stressor in his life.
He misses Jose. He misses talking to him. He misses seeing him smile.
He misses being the cause of that smile.
He just misses him in general.
So much for being an Ice Queen his brain mocks.
Jose seems fine.
He’s dancing and partying and living his best life. Every city it seems he's got more admirers. More guys willing to give him more than a post-it.
Brock shouldn't be jealous. And Brock was always known for doing what he should. Doing what was right.
But this...
This was different. This was his heart.
They are in some city in Europe. Brock can’t be bothered to remember which one. Too focused on Jose in the middle of the dance floor, beautiful men encasing him on all sides. He is smiling and grinding and looking to all the world like the happiest man in the world.
Brock dares to believe he is.
He can’t stay here. He can’t watch this. Not again. He can’t see the way Jose’s eyes flick downwards and then up. He can’t see the way he smiles into a kiss. He can’t see the way his hands splay out on the back of his latest conquest.
He can’t.
Brock turns from the dance floor and makes his way out of the club. Barely remembering to tell Nina goodbye.
The cold night air feels like a blessing and a curse on his skin. It is sobering in all the wrong ways. He fiddles around in his pocket with a pack of cigarettes he bought. He had quit. But he bought them last week and they had sat unopened in his suitcase since.
His fingers itch to grab one. Take one puff. Just to take the edge off. Just to feel...less.
Suddenly the door to the club slams open. Brock turns around like he has been caught. Jose stands there, eyes wide and wild looking. Brock doesn’t know what compels him to walk closer. Some cosmic force is pulling them together and they are helpless to stop it.
Jose and Brock meet in the middle. Foreheads pressed together in the middle of a sidewalk. They look crazy. They feel crazy.
They feel at home.
Jose finally lets out a breath. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.” Brock inhales sharply, not sure what to say or even if he should say anything at all. “It hurts too much. Because they ain’t you. No one is you. It’s just you. It’s always gonna be just you.”
“You’re drunk.”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I am.”
“You aint hearing what I’m saying.”
Brock sighs.
They are so close.
He missed this.
“I missed this.” Brock pauses. “I missed you.”
Jose smiles and Brock swears he can feel warmth in his toes.
They are so close.
If he leaned down he could just-
The door to the club slams open.
Jose jumps back.
They are suddenly so far.