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Falling in love is a lot like falling apart; the quicker the fall the more it hurts in the end.
Both Payton and River were finding out just how much that fall hurts.
They were also finding out that it was easier to fall apart together.
It is a warm night, one that promises summer not too far behind it. The breeze is steady and Payton has a window cracked open in his room, something he rarely does, allowing the breeze to drift in and stir up the warm air. There is a strange kind of electricity consuming the air, running through his veins, making him feel alert, alive, impatient. A feeling that makes you feel a hundred different kinds of lonely. A feeling that makes even the sanest person think the dark is louder than before.
But tonight he’s not alone. And that’s probably for the best.
Payton glances at River, who’s stretched out on his bed, one hand resting behind his head while the other fiddles absently, looking much more casual than usual.
Payton could tell something was different the moment River’s knock came on his door, quick and almost pleading.
They had let their guards down.
The walls they had so carefully surrounded themselves with were being torn down quicker than they had been built.
Payton glances over at River absently, almost unbelievably, and smiles to himself. He looks down, almost embarrassed by his own lack of indifference, when a small sound from across the room catches his attention. A soft, quiet sound that heightens Payton’s disbelief. A soft sniffle. Quieted breath.
River is crying.
Wordlessly, body moving into autopilot, Payton crosses to the center of the room where his bed is. River’s eyes are closed and tears slip down his cheeks. Every so often he’ll sniffle softly. He looks so different, so vulnerable, so beautiful, so alive, that Payton eases himself down onto the bed without thinking.
“River. Hey, what’s wrong?” Payton’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper, so uncharacteristically tender and low that it takes River’s breath away, and he almost opens his eyes. Almost.
He doesn’t say anything.
Payton sighs a little: this is usually River’s forte, being the comforting force, the normalcy to his insanity, the ship in his storm.
But that’s what’s so special about them, he realizes; they balance each other out.
“River,” he whispers, softer this time, and the love in his voice surprises even him. He moves closer to the man so they’re lying side-by-side. River opens his eyes, the tears on his face clearly visible in the yellowish light of the room. Payton’s heart clenches painfully at the sight.
“What’s wrong?”
Still no answer.
Carefully, Payton threads a hand through River’s curls and he can feel some of the tension melt out of him, like bathwater being drained from a tub. With his free hand, Payton rubs soft circles on River’s arm, the one that’s closest to him.
River leans into the touch readily.
The rest of the Hobart family had gone out for the evening to attend an orchestra an hour or so away from their home in Santa Barbara, leaving Payton on his own to study, much to Georgina’s reluctance.
If she had suspected anything, she said nothing, simply bidding him good night and reminding him to take a break from studying every once in a while.
Flashback:
When the first heavy knock pounds the door five minutes after ten, Payton is reluctant to open it. After the third round of incessant banging, he hurries downstairs, only to be greeted by the last person he expects to see at this hour: none other than River Barkley.
River had entered almost calmly, back to his usual serene presence, almost like it had been someone else entirely knocking on his door frantically only seconds ago.
After a second of standing there staring at each other, Payton more in shock than anything else, River surges towards him, coiled tight like a spring, catching Payton’s lips with his own. They move backwards, slightly off balance, limbs tangling through hair and hands resting on cheeks and fingers grappling for purchase on shirts.
After a minute, the heated kisses turn slower, more loving, though the desperation is still there, simmering between them and Payton pulls back slowly, trying to catch his breath.
River pulls back too, and gazes at Payton, almost like he’s surprised by his own actions. Then the look of confusion morphs into a small smile, and he leans in once again for a soft kiss.
They pull back again after a minute, smiling at each other, standing next to a lamp more expensive than either Payton or River would like to imagine, one that almost became a casualty of their actions.
“You’re damn lucky my parents aren’t here.” Payton’s voice is stern but there’s a spark in his eyes, his hands resting gently on River’s shoulders.
“Luther and Martin too. Can you imagine?”
“You think too much.” River smiles warmly and kisses him again. The kiss is a promise of realness, one that promises love. Payton thinks he could have stayed there forever.
End of flashback:
The man who’s laying on his bed now looks like a totally different person.
Payton moves forward, leaning over River and kisses him soundly, a kiss steeped in love, one worth a million words. Payton can taste the saltiness of River’s lips from the tears as he kisses him back fervently.
Payton tastes like mint and love and the whole world, River thinks.
The way Payton's looking at him makes him feel alert, alive, impatient.
Rivers tears are flowing freely now, running down his face and he’s breathing in short little gasps. Payton stops kissing him for a second and pulls him into his arms for a hug.
River hugs back tightly, hands still wrapped up in Payton’s sweater, and he sobs into his shirt as Payton rubs his back comfortingly.
Payton knows that if he lets River be for a minute, he’ll start talking; that’s just the way he’s wired when he’s around Payton.
Sure enough, as the clock across from his bed strikes 11 on the dot, River untangles himself from Payton, resuming his position on his back. He turns to look at Payton.
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Payton asks, hands coming to rest under River’s chin as he props himself up on his elbows, staring at River with adoration in his eyes.
River turns his head slowly to look at him. “I love you.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that.” Payton gently wipes a tear off River’s cheek, a gesture that River had performed many months ago during their first Mandarin session, one that radiates the love Payton has for him.
“And I love you too.”
River gives a small smile, though his breathing is still strained, almost like he’s going to start crying again. Payton knows he can’t let that happen.
“I ruined your plan.”
“Screw the plan.”
“I’m sorry for crying,” River says, looking at him soberly. “The world just seems really huge right now.” Payton wipes the last stray tear off the side of his face, before kissing him on the cheek gently.
“That’s why I’m here with you.” Payton clasps one of River’s hands with his own, squeezing it softly.
A few minutes pass after that, but time slows to viscosity, stuck somewhere in between the four walls that surround them and the great big universe.
Lying in the soft yellowish glow of the lamp that sits on Payton’s bedside table, he speaks again:
“You never have to apologize to me.”
“Alright,” River whispers back softly.
The End.