Chapter Text
TK doesn’t go back to the loft. After the day he’s had, he feels the need to be near his dad and, in extension, his mom. Because for a short while, a short blissful time in the midst of uncertainty in the world, this was her home, too.
“I have a feeling you are gonna love Austin.” He said that to her that first night, and she replied saying she already did.
And as the months went on, he could see that she was, despite living on the Upper East Side her entire life and being so used to New York. She was making Austin a home, and TK was happier than he had been in a long while.
But things don’t last, they change and shift and life likes to blindside you.
Because she’s gone now, and TK could have very nearly died today in two different ways, one in his control and the other not. He feels sick just thinking about it.
His dad is out getting dinner because TK wanted to honor his mom in the easiest way he knows how — Chinese food, even if it isn’t on Spring Street. But the next time he’s in New York, he’ll make a beeline there. With Carlos, with Jonah, all in her memory.
“Here.”
TK looks up from where he’s staring at a spot on the carpet, eyes heavy and sunken-feeling to find Carlos standing over him with a glass of water.
He takes it wordlessly, pulling a small sip before setting it on the coffee table where Carlos is just lowering himself down onto. He doesn’t say a single thing as he pressed his arms into TK’s legs and waits, studying every inch of his face.
TK’s breath hitches, lower lip wobbling as his hands dig into his arms. “I almost did it today.”
Carlos leans in a little closer, eyes big and warm and beautiful. Nothing TK deems himself worthy of right now. “Did what?”
He swallows. “Relapsed.”
The word doesn’t explode like he expects, it pops and fizzles out, dying in the air between them as his own blood runs cold. He feels as sick as he did when he got the phone call, but more shaken up, less numb. Because he knew exactly what he was doing.
“And I was ready, too,” TK adds, echoing what he said to his dad on the plane as it made a landing no one knew for sure would stick.
Where he expects to find Carlos staring at him in horror, he’s met with the same warm eyes, now a little sadder. Frightened, even just a bit.
“But you didn’t,” Carlos says softly. His hands slide from where they now rest on TK’s hips up to cup his face. “You didn’t.”
“But if I did—“
“Shh, hey.”
“If I did. Carlos, if I relapsed I wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help that woman. I wouldn’t have even gotten on the plane, I would have run, I would have—“
“TK.” Carlos’ voice steadies him, and it’s then that he realizes he’s shaking. They’re both shaking. “Please don’t think about what could have happened,” he breathes, his voice cracking on the last syllable as a single tear falls. “I don’t want to think about what could have happened.”
“If I relapsed?” TK asks weakly.
“Any of it.”
He sucks in a breath. “What if I do?” His head drops heavily to the side, but Carlos’ hands don’t dare leave his cheeks. TK’s eyes flicker elsewhere. “What if one day I’m not strong enough, and it all becomes too much so I…”
He can’t finish the sentence. He can’t. He already knows what happens when he isn’t strong enough. He falls so low, becomes so numb that a high is the only fix. The withdrawals are literal hell on earth, but even back then TK knew he’d be able to find something to quiet things down.
Carlos’ thumbs are stroking back and forth on his cheekbones, the only sensation grounding him at the moment. Every bit of himself feels like he’s going to snap and bounce off the walls — because grief makes you do inexplicable things sometimes. For now, though, all TK can do is focus on this physical sensation and Carlos to keep him steady.
“Do you need to do something?” Carlos asks carefully, and after a moment it clicks.
“There are meetings,” TK nods. “But I don’t think I can do that right this minute.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, TK.”
He nods just as a sob breaks through. “We’re not making it to the funeral. I can’t—I won’t get to say goodbye to her.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, Carlos, I can’t.”
“TK—“
“I can’t and I can’t be there for Jonah, I—“
Carlos shushes him again, scooping him into his chest in an instant, TK pressed somewhere between his clavicle and neck, nose a little squished but he doesn’t care in the slightest. He’s too busy falling apart because everything about today — about the last twenty-four hours — has been traumatic. A one-two punch he doesn’t know how to explain aside from the fact that the universe might be out to destroy him.
“My mom would’ve been so disappointed in me,” he chokes into Carlos’ shirt. It’s wet with tears at this point, but he doesn’t care. “She would’ve been so mad.”
“No, she wouldn’t have.”
“Yes. Everything she did, she-she took me to rehab, she was patient, I scared the hell out of her, but I got better. And I almost screwed it all up.”
“Baby…”
“She woke me up, Carlos!” TK snaps up so quickly he nearly clocks Carlos in the chin with the crown of his head.
His brows pinch together. “You mean from your coma?”
TK barely shakes his head. “No.”
The realization comes over Carlos in an instant, and it’s like TK is back at the doors of the airport in California again saying goodbye to his mother as he makes a step toward recovery. A recover that he trampled on since then, and nearly did again just mere hours ago.
He can see the tears in her eyes despite the strong, assuring and loving smile she had given him. That last hug before he walked away from her for thirty days, before he cleaned up and promised he would do better for himself and for her especially. Because the fear behind that smile, the worry is engrained in TK’s mind.
“If she hadn’t dragged my ass out of Queens that night,” he explains waveringly, “I would have never woken up.”
Carlos’ face crumples, immediately pressing his face into TK’s neck as he cups the back of his head, fingers stroking through his hair. “But you did,” he breathes. “And if you feel like you need to again…I’ll be here. I’ll help you get help. I’ll hold your hand, drive you, I’ll do anything you need me to do.”
TK’s eyes close slowly as Carlos pulls back. “I know.”
“Is there anything you need right now?”
The twist of TK’s hands in his shirt is explanation enough, letting Carlos know to just hold him tight because he almost lost him today. And he almost lost himself.
“I love you,” he murmurs against Carlos’ cheek, breathing him in.
“I love you.” He cradles TK’s head.
“We have a lot to talk about.“
“I know,” Carlos says. “We will. But not now. Right now…” He pulls back, the smallest of smiles on his face and says, “I just need to look at you.”
TK makes a weak noise in response, shoulders falling low.
“I really thought I was going to lose you today. And I’m really getting tired of making tally marks.”
He laughs, because levity is needed in this moment, but TK knows the hurt Carlos is feeling.
“You’re not going to.”
“Nope. I’d pull you right back.” He breathes out long and slow before adding, foreheads pressed together, “I’ll wake you up again.”
He tits his chin to press a long, soft kiss against his brow, and TK lets his eyes flutter shut. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”
Carlos takes his hands, holding them firmly, assuringly not saying a thing until TK opens his eyes once again. “Please do.”