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In the end, Alastair finds him by the ocean.
It's not surprising. Thomas always had a sort of attachment to it, though he never told Alastair why. He'd tried to ask, once, and Thomas' joyful expression had faded quickly, in the blink of an eye, replaced with a pained look. Alastair never pushed, nor did he ask again.
Now, he looks at Thomas, who is sitting down with his toes digging into the sand, forearms resting on his raised up knees, staring at the waves gently lapping up the shore. Seeing him again, Alastair feels frozen, unable to get his feet moving.
He swallows and stares and thinks about the last conversation they had.
"That's just not how it is," Thomas had said, eyes flashing with anger.
"Really." Alastair's tone was cold. "Seems to me like that's exactly how it is."
"It's—not. Would you stop overreacting please?"
Alastair's jaw set. "Standing up for myself is not overreacting, Thomas."
Thomas curled his fist at the mention of his full name. "I didn't say that," he said, clenching his jaw. "I'm just asking you to give them a chance."
"A chance?" Alastair let out a dry laugh. "A chance to do what, exactly? Insult me again?"
"A chance to—to let it go. Why can't you just give them time?"
"It's been years, Thomas. And I've apologized more times than I should have. It's not my fault your friends lack the ability to be mature for a second and constantly try to pick petty fights."
Thomas looked away. Alastair knew they were heading into dangerous territory. He knew that if they continued this conversation, it was only a matter of time either of them would say something they likely wouldn't be able to take back. But he knew he could not back down, not now. He would probably regret it a lot if he turned out to be the one who said something awful, but he knew he also would not be able to forgive himself for not taking his stand now.
"They're trying, you know," Thomas said finally, looking up to meet his eyes again. "They're trying to accept this." He gulped. "Us."
"Yeah," Alastair rasped out, then cleared his throat. "You keep saying that. But what friends are they if they are having this much trouble accepting your happiness? We've been together for more than a year already."
"Raziel. You know it's more complicated than that."
"Is it, really? Or are they just making it to be because they don't want to let go of their childhood grudges?"
"They're my friends, Alastair."
"Yeah," Alastair said. "They are." He didn't say anything about himself. He didn't say 'And I am your partner'. He wanted to see how much Thomas really cared about him. He wanted to see if Thomas would acknowledge it.
But he didn't. Thomas didn't say anything further, and neither did Alastair, and somehow, that was worse than one of them snapping and saying something awful. And when Thomas averted his gaze again, Alastair nodded to himself and turned away.
He wanted to look back, to see if Thomas was even looking at him. But he didn't. Instead, he just walked away, even though it hurt every cell in his body.
Now, he looks at Thomas again and he almost wants to go back. He doesn't really know why he came here, why he searched for Thomas. He contemplates leaving, he doesn't think Thomas has noticed his presence here. But just as he takes a step back, Thomas turns his head, looking at him over his shoulder.
Alastair halts. Waits. Stares as Thomas stands up but doesn't turn to face him, looking at the ocean instead.
"Why are you here?" Thomas says after a long moment of silence.
I don't know, is what Alastair wants to say. I was just leaving. But what comes out instead is, "I don't like conflict."
Thomas turns around at that, his gaze softening. "I know. I—" he takes a step forward and pauses. "I know," he repeats.
Alastair clears his throat. "We should talk."
Thomas nods and takes another step forward. Alastair feels compelled to step back, to put more distance between them, but forces himself to stay put.
"I'm sorry," Thomas says at the same time Alastair says, "I cannot do this anymore."
"What—What do you mean?" Thomas asks.
Alastair closes his eyes and swallows. When he opens them again, Thomas is still standing in front of him, but closer, a pained, almost terrified expression on his face, like he knows what Alastair meant but is hoping against hope for it to not be true.
But it is. "I mean I cannot do this anymore, Tom," Alastair says softly. He's not really angry anymore. Just tired. Tired of the same fights over and over again.
Thomas shakes his head and takes another two, three steps forward, till he is standing right in front of Alastair. He takes Alastair's hands in his own and says, "No. No, we—we can fix this. We've always been able to work it out. I'm sorry. I'll fix it. Don't do this, Alastair."
Alastair gulps again. "I have to. If your friends are not ready to forgive me even still, that is fine. They're well within their right to do so. But I will not apologise again. And I will not let them stand there and insult me every chance they get." He pauses, takes a breath. "I did not ask you to choose between your friends and me before, and I will not ask you to do it now." Alastair raises one hand to cup Thomas' face. "I love you and I always will. But I cannot have that love questioned and doubted every other moment. Perhaps someday we will be able to move past this and be together, but that cannot be today. Love cannot come without respect, Thomas."
Thomas tightens his grip on Alastair's hand and raises the other one to hold Alastair's wrist, of the hand that is cupping his face. "Don't do this," Thomas repeats once more, weakly.
Alastair buries the pain clawing at his heart. He reaches up to brush one last kiss against Thomas' lips, then he walks away.