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The offensive square of brilliant paper claims his attention whenever heʼs in the bunk area. It doesn’t matter what he is doing, he always ends up glaring at the envelope that's taken place on top of his desk.
Louise Graham and Martin Jackson have the pleasure to invite you to their wedding
TK huffs, leaning into the bed to stretch the covers over the mattress. He mutters under his breath as he works; when heʼs done he takes his wallet and his keys and walks away, Buttercup tailing after him as he moves from one bed to the other checking that everything is in order. TK doesn’t even notice the dog trotting in time with his own steps, too lost in his own mind. He steals one last glance at the envelope — its contents seared in his mind forever, echoing in the chambers of his memories — before he leaves the bunk area and enters the kitchen, where he promptly leaves his things on a chair by the table. His shift is almost done, but this week they're all scattered through the schedule, making for some weird days when all TK sees from his usual team is a few minutes here and there when their shifts overlap. He loves the holidays but having to double is taking its toll on his relationships with his friends.
“You look like shit,” Paul greets him, spatula in hand while he cooks something for dinner that smells delicious, if TK is honest with himself.
He’s also too engrossed in his thoughts that it takes him a moment for Paulʼs words to register. “I love you too, Strickland,” he retaliates half a second too late, picking up one slice of cheese and popping it into his mouth.
“Seriously, TK,” Paul keeps talking, but he averts his gaze to focus on the pan in front of him. “You look like youʼve seen a ghost. What was in that package you picked up earlier? Youʼve been distracted ever since.”
TK sighs. He should have known that Paul would notice the exact moment when he began being off — it's Paulʼs thing, after all. TK just doesn’t like being the subject of Paulʼs studies.
“Itʼs nothing,” he mumbles.
“Itʼs a nothing that's made you ignore Buttercup, man,” Paul points out. TK realizes then the dog that's been following him around from room to room. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I need to know if your distraction will affect your performance once weʼre responding to a call.”
“I will be focused,” TK promises. “It’s just a silly thing. The package from before, it—it was a wedding invitation,” he continues. “My best friend from New York is getting married, and she’s sent the invitation. That's all.”
“But that's a good thing!” Paul says. “A wedding is always great news. Unless,” he fixes his gaze on TKʼs face, “you don't feel like going? What's wrong? You said she’s your best friend from the city.”
“I know I should be thrilled.” TK sits on one of the stools, facing toward Paul but eyes trained to the pattern of the tablecloth on top of the table. “It’s just that she’s also one of Alex’s friends, and I am pretty sure he will be there. With Mitchell.” Speaking those names still sends a wave of pain to his heart, even almost three years after fleeing New York in the haze of a breakup he hadn’t expected at all.
It had been a messy situation — TK had been ready to propose while Alex had been ready to confess to cheating. He even told TK that he hadn’t been in love for longer than he could admit and that heʼd found that feeling in Mitchell. TK would have never thought an engagement ring could weigh so much inside a jacket pocket. After that night, TK had found himself at a crossroads; he needed to make a choice, and his father had presented him with an option TK simply couldn’t refuse.
It felt easier to run off to Texas than to remain in New York with all the temptations floating around.
“Well, I think you should go,” Paul states. “When is it?”
“Three days after Christmas,” TK says shaking his head. “Who chooses Christmas for a wedding?”
“Some romantic at heart for sure.” Paul checks the pan, waving the air to catch a whiff of the meal. “Hmmm, perfect. You never said you were going.”
“I don’t want to go alone. And I don’t have anyone to be my plus one.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” Paul retires the pan from the fire before whispering in a conspiratorial voice, “Carlos would love to go with you.”
TK bites back a groan, hiding his face in his arms over the kitchen countertop. “Don't start with that again!”
Paul snickers but says nothing else, which TK is grateful for. Ever since he met — and line-danced with — Officer Carlos Reyes at the honky-tonk, TK has had a crush on him. But he never acted on it, first because he didn’t feel he was ready to dive into the depths of a new relationship, and then because Carlos had become his best friend in Austin — maybe his best friend, period. TK hadn't wanted to jeopardize the only pure thing he had in his whole life.
“Just ask him,” Paul suggests as he twirls the spatula in his hand after a few moments of comfortable silence. “You can go just as friends, you know?”
“Then why don't you come with me?” TK replies promptly. “Iʼll answer that for you. Because no one ever brings just a friend to a wedding.”
“You’re wrong, I can't go because I have to cover up for you,” Paul is quick to stomp on him, figuratively. “Since you're going to ask for the days off to travel up north with your friend Carlos Reyes.”
“Now you're just being mean. You know weʼre just only friends. I can't invite him to a wedding!”
“Remind me why.”
“Because you don't bring a friend to a wedding,” TK tries to reason. “And because it would be just a compromise for him.”
“Or maybe because you know you won’t be able to not jump his bones?” Paul winks at him. The bastard, TK thinks. “Just ask him, TK,” Paul says in a softer tone, taking pity on his obvious distress. “What do you have to lose?”
TK sighs deeply. He has tons to lose — there’s so much more at stake than what Paul seems to think. TK doesn’t want to put at risk one of the few good things that the aftermath of his break-up with Alex brought, and he also knows that there’s no way he can show up to this wedding with someone and not lead to confusing conclusions. He isn’t sure he doesn’t want to lead them on, anyway.
“My ex will be there,” he explains. There’s a hint of defeat showing behind his words. “I know how it will be. If I show up alone, it will be very uncomfortable. It will feel like Alex has won all over again, as though I haven't gotten over him.”
“But you won't—”
TK shoots Paul a glare that shuts him up. “And if I bring someone with me, there’s no way anyone will buy that weʼre just friends. Everyone will think I am dating whoever comes with me. I won’t subject anyone to that ordeal.”
“To what ordeal?” TK hears at his back, a voice he knows all too well. He stiffens immediately.
“Uh, it’s nothing,” he says, turning around to meet Carlosʼ inquisitive gaze. “You’re early!”
“Early? It's already nine!” Carlos laughs heartily. “Iʼve been here for a while now, catching up with Michelle and bidding time until you were ready.”
TK steals a glance at the clock across the room and groans. Heʼs been so engrossed in his conversation with Paul that heʼs missed checking how long he had to get ready before his weekly dinner date with Carlos. He tries to ignore Paulʼs piercing eyes as he hastily grabs his things and yells a goodbye over his shoulder while he pushes Carlos out of the station.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Carlos manages to ask once they're already on the street. “What’s with all the sudden rush?”
TK slows down. “Nothing. Weʼre going to be late,” he tries to shrug it off but Carlos knows him all too well, and he isn’t having any of TKʼs nonsense.
“Armando won't be closing any time soon. You know heʼs usually open all night long.” Carlos places a hand on TKʼs arm and squeezes it gently. “I can feel somethingʼs wrong. You were talking to Paul and all of a sudden all you wanted to do was get out.” TK watches as some sort of realization washes over his best friend. “It’s because of me. Whatever it was, I interrupted it. Iʼm so sorry.”
“It wasn't you!” TK shakes his head. “Believe me, it wasn't. I, uhm. Can I explain it over some tacos? It's nothing, it's really nothing that bad. Just unexpected news.”
“I hope they aren't all too bad,” Carlos says as they resume walking, this time at a much slower pace. TK remains silent the whole stroll to the food truck park, and Carlos doesn’t ask — there’s some sort of tacit agreement they have, where they don’t need to talk to feel comfortable, where the silence doesn’t mean there’s nothing to say.
It means they know each other enough not to say a word.
Theyʼre seated with their tacos ready for them on the table when TK sighs audibly. “It’s really silly.”
“Itʼs got you nervous enough that you can't look me in the eye,” Carlos says softly. “You can just tell me. I won’t judge.”
TK mumbles under his breath, fully knowing that Carlos can't hear him.
“What was that, Ty?”
“I said, one of my oldest friends from New York is getting married three days after Christmas,” TK repeats louder this time, even if it's still barely above a whisper. “She’s friends with Alex as well.”
Carlos lets out a low whistle. “Is Alex going to be there as well?” he asks. “With Mitchell?”
“Last I heard, they were going strong, and apparently they were thinking about moving in together. So yeah, Iʼd daresay they both will be there.”
“Son of a bitch,” Carlos exhales. He reaches out to touch TKʼs arm. “You should go, but you shouldn’t go alone.”
“Iʼm not going, Carlos!” TK exclaims. “What’s wrong with you all? I won't give them the perfect excuse to pity me or to attack me. Why would I go somewhere I know I won't be comfortable?”
“Because you're friends with the bride, and friends go to friendsʼ weddings. Also,” Carlos keeps on. “Because you're going to give it back to Alex and his toyboy. That jerk has had this coming.”
TK smiles small at Carlosʼ outburst. Ever since he came clean to Carlos about everything — Alex, the overdose, the addiction, the numbness and the greyness — he had become TKʼs greatest support. But tonight, when he can feel the weight of all his mistakes on his shoulders, TK can't allow Carlos to convince him to do something he knows he will live to regret.
“As much as I would love to, I am not going to take my revenge on Alex because one, I am not going, and two, I don't have anyone to parade in front of everyone. And I will not ask anyone.”
“Itʼs not asking if it's offered,” Carlos reasons. “I will go with you. You won’t be alone. Plus, I will be able to side eye Alex as much as I want.”
TK almost chokes on his taco. “Carlos,” he warns. “You know what they will think if you show up as my plus one. I don't want to put you in that position.”
Carlos shakes his head. “I think I can deal with being mistaken for your boyfriend for a few days if it means getting to see Alex defeated and lost on a dancing floor when he realizes what heʼs traded you for.” When TK is about to retaliate, Carlos lifts one fingers to keep him quiet. “Not taking a no for an answer, Strand. When do you say weʼre flying up north?”
TK has a bad feeling about this, but all he can do is nod as he bites down on his taco, trying to avoid looking Carlos straight in the eyes for fear that his friend sees in TKʼs gaze all the secrets heʼs been keeping.
When the plane lands in New York City two days before the wedding, Carlos is already a jittery mess of nerves. He doesn’t know what possessed him to offer his help to TK in faking a relationship for the sake of taking revenge on Alex.
Carlos knows that, once they're alone in the enclosed space at the wedding venue, there will be no way he will be able to deny his feelings for TK Strand.
He’s been trying to bury them deep down, choking in his own lies as he feeds them to everyone, including himself. Ever since that first dance at the bar — ever since he even laid eyes on TK Strand — Carlos has been falling in love with the firefighter who had recently moved into Austin from the big city. It would have been the plot of a rom-com, but Carlos doesn’t believe in love at first sight and his life is definitely not what movies are made of. They have never gone past casual flirting that hasnʼt evolved into anything more serious; as much as Carlos would want them to be something more than friends, he knows he's really lucky to have TK in his life, and he would never jeopardize this friendship for a hypothetical romance that could end up badly.
And yet, here he is, gloves over his hands and a woolen beanie on his head as he clutches his coat closer to his body, waiting in line for their turn at catching a yellow cab. Besides him, TK is checking his phone, probably texting his mother that they have just landed and will be on their way as soon as they manage to hop into a taxi.
“Mom is really excited to have you finally in New York,” he informs Carlos after pocketing the phone and looking up at him. “She’s asked me twice now what's your favorite breakfast food so she can cook it for you,” he snickers. “I have the feeling that she likes you more than she likes me.”
“Well, I am definitely more likeable than you are,” Carlos jokes. “I hope you told her that I have no preference.”
“How bold of you to assume I would lie to my own mother,” TK feigns being aghast. The line moves forward, and they find themselves only two spots away from their longed cab ride. “Of course I told her you die for your momʼs churros, so she’s called Anita and apparently she now has a recipe for churros she wants to try.”
Carlos groans. “I don’t want to be a burden on your mother!” he exclaims. “She’s already been nice enough to invite me over when I could have stayed at a hotel.”
“And blow our cover as a happy couple?” TK jabs. “Mom loves you, and there’s plenty of room in her apartment for all of us. She wouldn’t have let you stay at a hotel even if you had traveled up on your own.”
Carlos sighs. He likes Gwenyth a lot — she’s probably his favorite Strand if he rules out TK, even though she’s technically not a Strand anymore although she kept the last name — and he canʼt wait to see her again. She’s not a permanent fixture in TKʼs life, therefore she isn’t in Carlosʼ life either, but whenever she’s around TK seems to feel lighter, as though the weight of the world has been somehow lifted from his shoulders. Carlos will never forget how, after TK got shot and they all feared they were going to lose him — Carlos doesn’t want to think about how he allowed his feelings to take over so much that Paul noticed how he in love he is with TK — Gwenyth showed up during TKʼs recovery and helped him find his place once again. She put a smile on her sonʼs face when no one else could, when TK was sabotaging himself with those self-destructive thoughts, and when she inevitably had to leave Carlos had been sold on her.
Gwenyth Strand is a woman worthy of being looked up to.
“Finally!” TK cries out when they manage to get first in line and one cab driver helps them with both their suitcases.
Carlos nods absent-mindedly as they slide inside the car and TK gives the address of his motherʼs apartment in Upper Manhattan. The driver makes a remark about the quality of the place they're headed to, and although TK says nothing, Carlos can feel him stiffening against the window. He knows that TK is very much aware of his privilege — of him being born and raised in the best New York neighborhoods even after the divorce, of him still having his father around after the towers fell, of him surviving everything he's been through. Still, TK doesn’t like it to be pointed out; he once told Carlos, during one of their late night after shift dinners, that he doesn’t think he deserves all the good that heʼs been born with, and he certainly doesn’t want people to think he takes it for granted.
“Weʼre almost there,” he says in a low voice, hand reaching out on its own volition to cover TKʼs on his knee. “Relax.”
“Thanks,” TK mouths back at him before leaning into the glass and closing his eyes. His left hand moves on top of Carlosʼ, sandwiching it between the warm flesh of his calloused fingers.
Carlos doesn’t think he will survive six days of this — of casual touches and soft-spoken words in the midst of a fake relationship that's so real on his end. He remembers distinctly his own sister's words when he told his family that he would be spending New Yearʼs with TK up in New York; Eva had been caustic in her opinions, leaving him raw and tender from her well-meant and strongly delivered words after heʼd told her the truth behind this impromptu trip — he could never lie to Eva Reyes.
“Youʼre going to have your heartʼs desires handed to you on a silver platter, or you're going to end up with your heart broken,” she had told him, all the wisdom of the three years she has on Carlos showing off. “Either way, you'll be too far away from me to catch you when you fall, Carlos.”
“It will be alright,” heʼd assured her. “This is just one friend helping another.”
“TK and you have never been just friends, hermano,” she had sighed. “But you're both too blind and scared to see it.”
Her words echo in his mind as they ride the last few miles into the poshest side of the city, tall buildings looking regal and wide avenues full of cars and people going hastily from one place to the other greeting them. The driver stops in front of one of those buildings, the numbers spread in gold for everyone to recognize the address. There’s a concierge, dressed in a black and red uniform, opening the cab door as soon as the driver kills the engine.
“Here,” Carlos tells him, offering a few crumpled bills without giving into his desire to shudder at the price shown in the taximeter. “This should cover it.” He helps TK get out of the car while the concierge opens the trunk and lifts their luggage out. Carlos doesn’t even look back at the cab driver who's upset TK, instead focusing on taking in the place he has in front of his eyes.
“Mr. Strand,” the concierge greets him. “Welcome back home. Ms. Strand warned me youʼd be arriving today.”
“Thanks, Frank,” TK greets back. “It’s good to be back home.” He leads the way into the building followed by Frank, who's carrying both their suitcases, while Carlos marvels at the sheer luxury of the place heʼs about to enter. “Hey, Carlos, speed up!”
“Iʼm coming!” he replies as he quickens his pace. He canʼt believe TK belongs here after having known him for as long as he has — these three years that TK has spent healing from what happened with Alex have been the best of Carlosʼ life, but they have also helped him create an image of TK Strand that's evidently not the firefighterʼs whole truth. “When were you going to tell me you grew up in the Hilton?”
TK shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “This is not the Hilton,” he sighs. “I never talk about this. This,” he clarifies gesturing around him toward the elegant hall where they're waiting for the elevator. “This is all my motherʼs. Iʼm grateful for it, but it's not who I am anymore. I doubt it ever was me to begin with.”
“Iʼm not judging,” Carlos whispers. He shuffles his weight between his feet. “It’s just surprising. I would have never thought youʼd grown up here. You're usually down to Earth.”
TK reaches out and squeezes Carlosʼ arm over the coat. “It’s okay. I have my fair share of weirdness.”
“I guess this explains why you love those vegan donuts that are barely edible.”
They laugh heartily. When the elevator dings, they step inside — Frank leaves the suitcases on the floor upon TKʼs request — and keep joking until it stops on the correct floor. Carlos already knows what to expect when TK guides him down the corridor to a plain wooden door, both carrying a suitcase. He fishes for the keys in his pocket and opens the door, stepping inside and calling out for his mother.
“Mom! Weʼre home!” he says. “Mom?”
“In the kitchen!” Gwenyth calls back. “You’re here early!”
TK leaves his bag on the floor and gets rid of his shoes. Carlos imitates him, and together they walk into the apartment to the kitchen, where Gwenyth is making what smells like lasagna. “Mom! Iʼve missed you!”
“And Iʼve missed you too!” Gwenyth kisses her sonʼs cheek when he approaches her, and motions for Carlos to come closer. “Carlos, it’s so good to see you!”
“Maʼam.”
“Don't maʼam me, young man,” she scolds him.“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Gwenyth?”
“Don't be hard on him,” TK quips in. “Heʼs still starstruck by all this glamour.”
Carlos blushes. He doesn’t want to say anything — he fears heʼd stick his foot in his mouth — and he will never tell TK, but he's starting to feel like he wonʼt be able to pull off what heʼs promised TK. Itʼs not that he canʼt sell them as a couple, because he knows TK better than anyone in the world; they're best friends, and being in love with him from the start has turned Carlos into an expert on all things Strand. It’s just that, seeing the place where TK used to live — the place he belonged to when he met Alex — Carlos is sure that there’s a reason why they have never taken that extra step in their friendship. It’s not because he is a coward and prefers to have TK as a friend rather than to lose him if Carlos speaks up about his feelings.
It's because he feels like he isn’t enough for TK.
“Hey, Carlos, you alright? You kinda spaced out on us.”
Carlos shakes himself back when he hears TKʼs voice. “Sorry. I guess I am tired.”
“Oh, my poor boy,” Gwenyth smiles at him. “Would you rather lie down for a bit? Dinner won't be ready for a while.”
“That would be wonderful. Thanks, maʼam—I mean, Gwenyth.”
“There’s just one tiny handicap,” Gwenyth explains. She wipes her hands on a rag before she moves away from the counter where she had been working on the lasagna. “After TK moved out, I switched his old bunk bed for a king-sized bed, and I never brought a second bed back. But I'm sure TK has already told you.”
“No, he actually hasnʼt,” Carlos retaliates, glaring at his friend who just shrugs.
“It slipped my mind,” TK excuses himself. “Is it going to be a problem? I didn't think itʼd be a problem, but if it is I can sleep on the couch.”
Carlosʼ heart is pounding in his chest, like a wild horse. He is sure that everyone can hear the thumping sound it's making. They're going to have to share a bed, and TK knew. TK knew and he didn’t say a thing. Carlos can't wrap his head around it.
TK is still rambling when Carlos manages to calm his racing pulse. He cuts TK swiftly. “It’s okay. I just wasn't expecting it, but it's fine. It’s only for some days, and it's not like we haven't ended up on the same bed before.”
He’s remembering that particular rebel wildfire when both AFD and APD had joined forces, not being able to step away for long, and the shifts had blended until they collapsed on whatever bed was closer, always at the firehouse because it was closer to the fire.
Carlos is just now noticing that they seemed to always find the same bed to sleep together — Paul and Judd sharing a mattress, Tim and Mateo as well. Marjan had teamed up with Nancy, and the only one who hadn't shared a bed had been Owen. In fact, the police officers who hadnʼt been able to go back to their homes had chosen to share spaces with other officers. Carlos and TK had been unique in their choices.
“It will be fine,” he reassures TK, although heʼs not sure if it isn’t also for himself.
He just needs to brace himself for the torture that will be sharing a bed with the man heʼs in love with, when said man sees him just as a friend.
Every single bride in New York would kill for a June wedding at The Plaza, but TK thinks the hotel looks even more wonderful at Christmas. He knows it's silly on his part — heʼs not going to get married anytime soon — but he wishes he could plan his wedding so it would fall around a snowy Christmas. There’s something magical in the way Louise and Martin glow underneath the fairy lights that decorate the room.
The vows have been emotional and marvelous. TK has even shed a tear, trying to hide it beneath his fingertips as he faked a cough just to look down and wipe his cheek. That isn’t the only thing heʼs faking tonight, though, and it still eats at him whenever he thinks of it.
Just when Martin was waxing poetic about Louise and his love for her, TK had dared a glance up at Carlos, sitting next to him in those uncomfortable chairs covered in white fabric with a yellow ribbon in their back. Carlos had been intently staring at the couple, not paying attention to anything else; TK could see tears pooling in his eyes. Without thinking much about it, TK had reached out and grabbed Carlosʼ hand that had been resting on top of Carlosʼ bouncing knee. They have been around each other for so long, that it had felt the right thing to do. TK hadn't even had to overthink it or plan it — it had flowed naturally.
Carlos hadn't withdrawn his hand, leaving TK a nervous heap of unsorted feelings.
He’s nursing his third soda at the bar, waiting for Carlos to come back from the bathroom, the ceremony and the dinner long forgotten. He’s trying not to dwell too much on the fact that the weight of Carlosʼ hand on the small of his back had felt fitting. Heʼs trying not to overthink how he felt when Carlos had grabbed his hand after the ceremony to help him stand up, fingers intertwined. TK is really trying to remember that this is not real, but the irony of it all is that heʼs tasting what his life could be if he were brave enough to jump off the cliff and take a leap of faith — and heʼs loving every single second of it.
Even Louise, when theyʼd go to congratulate her on a perfect ceremony, had told him that she was happy for him — everyone could see how in love they were, sheʼd said. TK has been mulling over those words ever since.
He twirls the glass in his hand. It all started that first night, when they had been forced to share a bed unless one of them wanted to sleep on the couch — and TK knows it's impossible to sleep on that torture device. He hadn’t missed the mischievous gleam in his motherʼs eyes as she retreated to her bedroom, but he hadn’t been able to say anything without blowing off his cover of a hardened man with no emotions whatsoever. Since he hadn’t wanted Carlos to know the depths of his feelings, TK had found himself in an impossible situation.
Heʼd chosen to share a bed, believing he wouldn’t be able to rest — heʼd truly thought heʼd be plagued with fear of overstepping and giving away his true feelings. Instead, heʼs been having the best of dreams ever since — without fail, every night he finds his way on top of Carlos, his head straight over Carlosʼ heartbeat, and without fail every night Carlos throws an arm around him, and they both are out like a candle in a matter of seconds. TK doesn’t want to think too much about what that means.
“TK,” he hears at his back. The hand on the glass still in shock, the fingers gripping the crystal so tight that TK can feel the cold of the ice cubes inside burning his skin. This voice brings him back to a time he doesn’t want to relive; heʼs been avoiding this confrontation ever since he stepped into The Plaza, but apparently there’s only so many times he can dodge this bullet. “I was hoping we could talk, TK.”
“I guess I have no say in this,” TK sighs. He turns to see Alex standing right behind him, dressed in a black tux and a crisp white shirt, the red tie loosely hanging off his neck. “What do you want to talk about, three years later?”
“Iʼm sorry,” Alex starts. “I was awful to you, and I am sorry. I know it doesn’t take away all the pain and everything that happened because of me cheating, but I hope it can be a beginning.”
TK takes in the image in front of him — Alex is nervously fidgeting with the buttonière in his lapel, part of his attire as best man, but he's looking straight forward. He isn’t wavering. He’s locking eyes with TK and waiting.
And it doesn’t hurt as much as TK thought it would, facing Alex and letting go of his past trauma. It stings, just like an old wound when one scratches over the scab — it may bleed a little but that's all. It isn’t a wound any longer.
TK knows it's been a process. The first few months after Alex — because there are several turning points in his life, but there’s a first before and a first after in his existence, and that belongs to Alex — those first months were the worst of his life. Everything was gray and devoid of rhyme or reason; there was just numbness and a dull need to use like he had never felt in years. TK had simply rolled through life for weeks until that night, three months after Alex, when heʼd entered that hellish bar and started a fight. That night had been a new beginning — the beginning of something bigger than him, the bases of a life he needed to earn for himself.
That night, Carlos Reyes had saved TK Strand by just wiping off some crud and listening when he spoke about nuclear-bad break-ups and addiction.
TK knows this process of healing is just taking one step at a time — but just like the grieving process has several steps, he needs forgiveness in his life. Not just forgiveness of what was done to him — the sheer betrayal of his love — but also forgiveness of what he did to others.
He has to forgive himself before he can forgive Alex.
“It wasn't just you,” TK finally says. His glass has been long forgotten on the counter behind him, the sound of the bartender sweeping up the surface a scratch in the background. “I knew something was off, and instead of talking to you, I bought an engagement ring.”
Alex seems taken aback by his words, but he doesn’t budge. “You’ve changed, TK,” he retaliates softly. “I know it's been already three years, but I thought—”
“I know what you're trying to say,” TK helps him when Alex trails off, obviously trying to find the right words as to not come off offensive. “Iʼve grown as a person, and I am happy that weʼve talked, Alex.”
“You know,” Alex says, swallowing noticeably. “When Louise told me you were coming, I was really nervous. I didn't know how this would go, all I knew is that I had to talk to you. I was so glad when she told me you were coming with your boyfriend, TK.”
Tk frowns at those words. The reason behind him faking a relationship with Carlos was to show everyone that he wasn't a loser who hadn't been able to rebuild his life for three years, but he had never expected Alex to approve — maybe be jealous, but TK doesn’t need his exʼs stamp of approval on a feigned relationship.
“Don't give me that look,” Alex chuckles. “I won’t ask for details, but it's evident you're so in love. You're practically glowing when heʼs around, and you look positively smitten. I found Mitchell at an odd time in our lives—”
“Such bad timing, to be honest,” TK quips in, but Alex isn’t deterred.
“—and I always wished for you to find someone who looked at you the way your boyfriend looks at you. The guyʼs a keeper.”
TK canʼt help the smile that spreads across his face. “That he is,” he agrees.
It’s just a lie, he tells himself. Weʼre really good at this but it's only a lie.
He’s not sure heʼs buying his own words.
“I know weʼre just starting to get back on track and we're not friends, but I would love for you to introduce me to him. I want to tell him how lucky he is.”
There’s a warmth that floods TK as he nods and looks around for Carlos, who should have come back from the bathroom already. When he scans the room, he sees Carlos politely talking to Louise and Martin on one side of the dance floor. “Cʼmon,” he says. “Time for you to meet the one and only Carlos Reyes.”
And maybe it isn’t a closed wound, but at least his heart doesn’t break in a million pieces when Alex follows him to the dance floor.
“Sweetheart,” he greets, reaching from behind and surrounding Carlosʼ middle with his arms. “Can I introduce you to someone?”
Carlos turns with a bright smile that freezes on his lips when he lays eyes on Alex. TK has already told him everything about that failed relationship — about the supernova it created — and heʼs even showed Carlos some pictures. It still surprises TK, when he realizes that the look in Carlosʼ eyes is protective to an extent he hadn’t known before.
“Alex,” Carlos blurts out. Beside him, Louise and Martin seem to brace for impact. “Iʼm Carlos Reyes. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“It is?” Alex questions, eyebrow raised.
“Of course it is. Iʼm finally meeting the reason why TK came into my life,” Carlos explains calmly but TK knows better — he can tell that Carlos is tense by the way his back has stiffened only a fraction more than usual. “You know, TK moved to Texas after Alex left him for Mitchell. I wouldn’t have met TK if that hadn't happened. So thank you.”
“My hero, always the gentleman,” TK tries to lighten a mood that has already been weirded out by the whole development of events.
Carlos botes down on his lower lip before he turns to face TK. “For you, always,” he promises, leaning in and aiming for TKʼs lips in a peck that's intended to be quick and soft.
Theyʼre kissing for longer than anticipated, the heat scorching TK in every spot where Carlosʼ fingers touch him once he lifts one hand to cup TKʼs face.
TK has to remind himself that this is a lie, that they’re only acting, because the feeling of Carlosʼ lips on his — not even rehearsed, just as natural as breathing — is making his heart do somersaults inside his chest. He so desperately wants for this kiss to last forever, as Carlos dives closer, tongue peeking out of his mouth and asking permission to enter TKʼs.
They only come up for air when they hear a pointed cough like someone is trying to catch their attention. “Sorry,” TK says, still dazed. “We, uh, we got carried away.”
“Iʼm actually feeling quite tired,” Carlos announces, hand sliding down to grab TKʼs. That earns them a chuckle from Louise and a groan from Martin; Alex remains silent. “This was a lovely ceremony, but I'm afraid I won’t be much more fun. Should we head out?”
TK can only nod. The farewells and wishes are a blur in his memory, and he barely recalls picking up his coat and hating a cab. Suddenly heʼs in the back seat of a yellow taxi, heading back to his motherʼs apartment, and he doesn’t really remember how he got there.
The only thing that stays the same is the weight of Carlosʼ hand on his.
They don’t speak during the whole ride back. TK isnʼt sure whether it is because Carlos is feeling remorse at his outburst — dominant and possessive and jealous — or because he's actually tired. By the time they make it to the building where his mother lives, TK has decided heʼs going to act on whatever it is that they have going on. Definitely, he doesn’t believe for a second that two best friends can share a kiss like the one they just had and remain just friends. But they don’t say a thing as they wait for the elevators in the deserted hall and they don’t speak when they reach the correct floor.
TK opens the door to the apartment and they both step inside. He needs to make a beeline for the bathroom — his bladder as ill-time as ever — and when he gets out, Carlos is already snoring softly on the bed, not having bothered to get underneath the covers, with his bowtie undone and his jacket crumpled around his waist. TK snickers, sauntering next to him and throwing the blanket over Carlos.
There will be time, he thinks. Before we come back home.
He doesn’t want to acknowledge the moment when Texas became home instead of New York, because that would mean facing the fact that heʼs been feeling like this for longer than heʼs ready to admit.
Because Texas felt home the first time he looked Carlos Reyes in the eye.
And he drifts off to slumber in his own tuxedo, his tie loose and his trousers halfway unbuttoned, promising to himself that he will sort out the mess they have gotten themselves into.
He will come back to Austin holding hands with Carlos, and this time it won’t be fake.
They don’t talk about the kiss at the wedding.
Carlos manages to avoid the whole issue for three days, always changing the subject when he feels TK is about to bring it up. He canʼt believe it even happened — he wasn't supposed to get that carried away, and he definitely had no business in feeling so jealous that TK looked so at ease with Alex.
Carlos knows he's being irrational, and he hates that his sister was right. He canʼt be level-headed when it comes to TK. He’s far too deep in love with the firefighter for it to be just a fling. For his feelings to go away.
For a kiss to mean just nothing.
Heʼd been talking to the bride and the groom, listening to them praising each other and telling him that TK looked happier now, all the while watching from the sidelines how TK got cozy with the man who broke him so horribly that it took a whole village of people to heal him. He shouldn’t have missed TK, or at least he shouldn’t have allowed that kiss to be so meaningful — Carlos could swear that he felt TK melting under his fingertips.
And then, in true Carlos Reyes fashion, he fell asleep as soon as they got back to the apartment.
So, heʼs been avoiding that conversation like the plague. Since heʼs not ready for it, he manages to find excuses not to be alone with TK — he ropes Gwenyth in when they’re baking Christmas cookies, and he even partakes in a conga-like activity at the ice rink back over Rockefeller Center only to remain among strangers so he doesn’t have to face TK. But his lucky streak is coming rapidly to an end on New Yearʼs Eve, when TK has dragged him to Times Square.
“You can't stay in the city for New Yearʼs and not have this experience!” TK had exclaimed when Carlos had voiced his reserves.
And here they are, miraculously on the front row to watch a ball drop from the heights, getting frozen to death and surrounded by people who are getting friendlier the more the booze runs around. Carlos has no escape — there’s no way he can divert TKʼs attention here or change the subject if TK wants to talk. They're not alone but Carlos has never felt more uneasy around his best friend.
He knows he fucked up. Their interactions have been jilted by this mistake, he can feel it — he can feel the disappointment in TKʼs words, although he canʼt be sure if it's aimed at the kiss or for not talking about it — and he wishes he could go back to the beginning when his feelings for TK hadn't been outed. Carlos firmly believes in second chances, so heʼs hoping that by the time the ball drops he can make a wish for this whole mess to be swept under the rug and never be brought up again.
TK clears his throat beside him, gloved hands grabbing the railing, and Carlos thinks that such a wish should wait a few more hours. “Are you going to keep avoiding me?” he asks in a low voice.
Carlos sighs. “Iʼm not avoiding you. I'm right here with you, in a crowded place, waiting for the new year to start.”
“You know what I mean.” TK bounces back and forth in place. “Ever since the wedding—I know—look, I am sorry, okay? I should have never brought Alex and introduced him to you. It was a silly thing to do. It made you uncomfortable.”
Carlos looks away from his friend, eyes lifted to the ball. “You think I was uncomfortable because of Alex?” he whispers. “I wasn't—I just—god, TK, I kissed you!”
“Because it was for the show!” TK exclaims. Carlos looks back at him then, the tears brimming in TKʼs eyes and he frowns.
“I agree, it was a show,” Carlos tries to reason. “We came here to make your friends and your ex believe that you had moved on. Which you have, by the way. You're better now than three years ago, and you don't need a man by your side to prove it.”
Carlos stops to breathe deep before he continues. He doesn’t want to have this conversation here, underneath the stars that he canʼt see in New York, and he doesn’t want to open his heart and bare his soul while they're surrounded by so many people.
“Why is this so important to you, TK?” he asks.
There are raindrops starting to fall on them, quietly and almost unnoticed; Carlos thinks itʼs the perfect background for this exchange, whatever the outcome is.
TK looks bewildered. “Do you really have to ask, Carlos? Don’t you know why this is important to me?” he blurts out. “Is that why you have been ignoring me for three days?”
“I haven't—”
“Oh, yes, you have!” TK cries out. “Iʼve been trying to talk about the wedding for days and you have been avoiding it!”
Carlos wants to scream. He wants to tell TK that heʼs not ready to be let down, even if it's as gentle as he knows TK would try to be. He wants to explain that this has never been just a show for him, that he has feelings, that heʼs fought them and heʼs lost — that heʼs so in love with TK that the mere thought of Alex being forgiven makes him retch. He wants to shriek in frustration that heʼs going to miss sleeping with TK because he's never gotten a full nightʼs sleep until he started sharing a bed with his best friend.
Carlos says nothing of the like. He simply stares ahead and clutches the railing mimicking TK.
“You’re not going to say anything? You kiss me in front of everyone and you expect things to remain the same?” TK explodes. Carlos can feel how they're attracting some unwanted attention, and he wants to call TK on it, but he's stuck to his spot, unable to talk as TK unravels. “Are you seriously going to pretend this hasn't changed anything?”
He shouldn’t bite that bullet. He shouldn’t retaliate. He shouldn’t speak his mind.
He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.
He does.
“Of fucking course it changes everything, Tyler!” Carlos bursts out in the end, when he canʼt take it any longer. “It changes the way we interact and it changes how you see me, all because I fucked up so badly! I should have never kissed you.”
He regrets his words the second they leave his mouth. It’s not what he wants to express — it's not how he feels. The hurt look in TKʼs face is proof that heʼs gone a step too far. The sudden silence around them is deafening.
“I see,” TK mutters. “I, uh. I will make sure to keep my distance from you from now on.”
“No, no,” Carlos tries to amend. He doesn’t know how heʼs brought this so far and in such capacity. “Thatʼs not what I want!”
“Well, you sure as hell have been acting as though I have something infectious.” TK sounds hurt and so small that Carlos feels the need to hug him so much that he almost misses the whispered words that follow suit, “I miss my best friend.”
“Iʼm still here,” he tries to say, but TK is having none of that. Instead, Carlos knows him well enough to notice how heʼs spiraling.
“You’re not,” TK mutters. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Paul get in my head. And everyone else.”
“Why do you mean by that?” Now it’s Carlosʼ time to be confused. He doesn’t know how the rest of the world fits in this gigantic mistake heʼs made.
“Nothing.”
“Sure it's nothing,” Carlos nudges him, fingers touching TKʼs arms. TK doesn’t budge, but Carlos keeps kneading his arm. He thinks maybe it's time to be a little more honest than heʼs been so far, seeing how upset the whole ordeal has made TK. He decides to thread carefully, though. “Iʼm sorry Iʼve been acting weird. I guess I am not that good at faking.”
TK chuckles, not completely devoid of tension. “Iʼd say you're really good at it. I mean, Alex bought it completely. And the rest of my friends.”
And it's then that Carlos recognizes the underlying emotion that TK has been trying to conceal with snarky comments and jabs. He wants to smack himself hard for not noticing it earlier.
TK sounds dejected, as though it bothers him so much that they were faking in the first place.
Maybe heʼs making the second worst mistake of his life — the first being having kissed TK when he still believed they were just best friends — but Carlos has the inkling that he stands a chance against his bad luck.
Maybe it's time to let go of all the doubts and simply take a leap of faith. After all, they're in the land of dreams, and he already knows what TK tastes like. Carlos doesn’t think he can go back to his scheduled existence without being able to kiss him some more.
“I mean it, Ty,” he whispers. He turns until heʼs facing TK instead of the ball that's about to drop in five minutes; he hopes his eyes convey all heʼs feeling because he doesn’t trust his voice not to quiver. “Iʼm shit at faking. The wedding? Not at all fake.” There’s a shakiness in his words as he speaks — maybe, if this blows up in his face and heʼs read all the signals wrong, he can blame it on the cold seeping through his skin.
TK opens his mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. Carlos can see a flash of something he doesn’t identify — he doesn’t want to either, just in case heʼs on the wrong here — and he waits while TK breathes harshly.
“Do you mean—is this—what are you saying?”
A long time ago, Carlos came to terms with that fact that he would need to be the one initiating things when it comes to TK — talking to him or asking him to join the line dance at the honky tonk seemed tasks easy enough, and it helped rebuild TKʼs confidence and self-esteem. When he realized the depth of his own feelings for a certain firefighter, Carlos chose not to say anything because he didn’t want to risk his friendship — but that hadn't been the only reason. He knew TK hadn't been ready back when he first landed in Austin; heʼd wanted to wait until both of them were on the same page. Carlos thinks they are, now.
After all, TK had kissed him back at the wedding, and it hadn't felt unreal.
Carlos has a decision to make now.
“Iʼm saying,” he says carefully, choosing his words, “that I’d love to ring in the new year with you by my side.”
TK nods slightly. “Thatʼs what weʼre doing in,” he points at the regressive count below the ball, “three minutes.”
“Iʼm aware of that,” Carlos says. Maybe heʼs misread everything, but he canʼt back down now. “I mean it. You've given me so many good memories to cherish these days, and the past three years. I want to keep starting new traditions with you, and I want to give you everything anyone else before me didn’t.”
“And what's that?”
Carlos inhales deeply, taking the plunge. “I want to show you how love really feels like, TK. I don't think I can keep it inside any longer, not after kissing you. I love you. I am in love with you. I don't want this to be just an anecdote. I want this to be an adventure we tell our grandchildren when they ask how we started our journey together.”
The crowd around them start counting back from ten, the minutes having slipped past them as they bared their souls. Carlos stands his ground, trying to understand the myriad of emotions heʼs watching coloring TKʼs features.
“The ball is about to drop,” TK finally speaks. It’s not what Carlos has been expecting. “Are you sure? About everything? Because I can be a handful.”
“TK,” Carlos groans. He wishes he could hold TK and make him understand that there’s nothing Carlos wouldn’t do for him. These past days together — planning their stories for the wedding, baking cookies, trying not to fall over while ice skating — they have cemented what Carlos already knew.
There’s no way he can keep his feelings inside anymore. He needs them out.
“Answer me, Carlos,” TK insists. “Because this is going to be a mess otherwise.”
“Iʼm tired of hiding this. Iʼm tired of wanting and longing and not being able to touch you the way I want to because it would jeopardize our friendship. I am sure, TK. I have just told you that I lo—”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, for TK lunges forward and captures Carlosʼ lips in his, swallowing the moan that escapes them when Carlos realizes what is happening.
“This isn't an adventure to tell our children,” TK tells him when they part, coming up for air. “This is our beginning, Carlos.”
Carlos hums, leaning in to kiss TK some more among the catcalls and wolf-whistles of the crowd — he doesn’t know if the cheering is aimed at them or at the ball, but he doesn’t care.
He’s got his belated Christmas gift in the form of the love of his life — someone he trusts and loves more than anything in the world. He canʼt believe this time it's real.
The ball drops as they kiss, unaware of anything but the friction of lips on lips. The ball drops, the new year begins, and their souls — their souls soar.