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They’re cuddled up together in Carlos’s bed, Carlos holding TK a little more gently than he normally would, worried about accidentally hurting TK. His relief that TK is fine — a bit banged up and sporting a nasty headache, but fine, all things considered — is just barely starting to tamp down the complete and utter terror that had plagued him from the moment he first felt something was wrong. Carlos feels like he can breathe again, finally, the vice that had been gripping his chest is loosening, allowing him to draw a full breath without it feeling as though his chest would explode.
TK is still awake, but sleepy, and Carlos feels an indescribable, nearly impossible wave of love when he looks down at TK’s face pillowed against Carlos’s chest. Carlos had tried to get TK to let him spoon him, afraid that TK wouldn’t be comfortable in this position, that his head wound would throb more acutely, but TK had argued that he’d lay on the uninjured side and had won. Carlos couldn’t deny this man anything, especially when what TK wanted was to be close to him.
He’s — grateful doesn’t begin to describe it. He doesn’t have words for the relief and wholeness he feels now that TK is safe in his arms again. He can barely bring himself to reflect back on the hours when he didn’t know where TK was, didn’t know if he was safe. It’s too frightening, too painful. He never wants to feel that way again.
But simmering beneath all this love and relief and rightness is the dark bubble of anxiety that’s reserved only for his complicated feelings about his parents. It’s there, no matter how hard he tries to banish it, no matter how many times he feels TK press a soft kiss to his heart. It’s there, and it’s threatening to bubble over, and he just doesn’t want to deal with it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” TK asks quietly.
“Talk about what?” Carlos knows exactly what TK means. TK knows him better than anybody, and he’s the only person who would be able to detect Carlos’s unease like this.
“Your dad,” TK says simply.
Carlos sighs. “No.”
“But you need to.” It isn’t a question or a command, just a statement.
Carlos sighs again. “Yes.”
“I’m listening.” Just two words. That’s all TK says, and it’s all Carlos needs him to say, and he loves him all the more for saying it.
“I just — I know that I should feel relieved right now. Relieved that they know and I don’t have to hide anything anymore and that I can introduce you to them properly.” Carlos sounds frustrated, a tad bitter.
“There are no shoulds, Carlos,” TK says gently. “There’s not a certain way you’re supposed to feel. You feel what you feel, and it’s valid and true.”
“I guess,” Carlos says. “I think what I mean is that I want to just feel happy and relieved.”
“That’s fair. But what is it that you really feel?”
“Angry, a little. At them. At myself,” Carlos says slowly. “But mostly what I feel is … stupid. I feel so stupid for spending all that time being afraid and holding myself back and hiding you when they already knew. I put myself through so much anguish, I hurt you — we almost broke up.”
“We did not,” TK is quick to retort. “We had a moment of poor communication, but we were not going to break up. You’re not gonna get rid of me that easy.”
“I don’t want to get rid of you,” Carlos says affectionately, kissing TK’s forehead very gently, still afraid of hurting him. “I never want to get rid of you.”
"Good, because I intend to keep you for a long, long time," TK says. He pauses a moment before continuing. “There were valid reasons that you didn’t open up to them, love. You had no reason to believe they’d react well. They never gave you a reason to think they'd be fully supportive.”
“I know,” Carlos says. “I know,” he repeats, a little more forcefully. “And I’m fucking pissed about it. I’m pissed that they didn’t say anything for so many years. I’m pissed that they were never outwardly supportive. I’m pissed they never asked about my love life, that they just ignored the fact that I'm gay. And I’m pissed that after all that, my dad just casually mentions that he knows you’re my boyfriend at a fucking crime scene as you’re being loaded into an ambulance and you were hurt and I was still so scared for you.” He’s breathing heavier than normal when he finishes talking, and TK remains silent, allowing Carlos to sit with the emotions for a while. “I just — I just wish they’d talked to me sooner. I wish I hadn’t spent all this time convinced they’d react badly if I tried to talk about it again. I wish they’d made me feel safe enough to fully be who I am around them.”
“I know, love,” TK says. “I know, and I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with all this by yourself for so long. It must have been really lonely.”
“It was,” Carlos says sadly. He’s quiet for another moment. “I guess I’m a little angrier with them than I thought.”
“You're allowed to be angry, Carlos. Honestly, I'd be concerned if you weren't.”
“And I guess I need to talk to them about this at some point.” Carlos sounds weary just thinking about having this conversation.
“When you’re ready, sweetheart,” TK says. “And not a moment sooner. It’s a lot to deal with, and a lot has changed very quickly. You don’t have to talk to them until you’re ready.”
Carlos gently strokes TK’s arm, pondering this. “I’m not lonely anymore,” he says in what seems to TK like a non sequitur .
“Hmm?”
“I was lonely before. Trying to deal with this without having somebody to support me. It was lonely. But I’m not lonely now, because I have you.”
TK smiles. “And you’ll always have me. I love you so much, Carlos Reyes.”
“I love you too, Ty. So much that it doesn’t even feel possible sometimes.”
“I know the feeling.” TK tips his chin up for a kiss, which Carlos grants him.
They’re quiet then, drowsiness starting to overtake them. Carlos’s eyes flutter shut, and he feels TK nestle closer to him, and another burst of improbably intense love blooms in his chest. His anxiety is dissipating now, pure love and devotion expanding in his chest so that there’s less room for fear and stress. It’s not gone yet — it might never be — but the last thought Carlos has before drifting off to sleep is that he’ll never feel its full weight ever, ever again.