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There's a cold pot of coffee on the kitchen counter when Carlos gets home. A plate with bread and a little bit of peanut butter lays besides it, untouched. A few flies fly over it, and some more are sitting on it. It's been there for a while.
"TK?"
There's no answer. TK's shoes are in the hallway, though, and his keys are on the dresser. He has to be in here.
Maybe he had a tough shift and meant to have dinner, but fell asleep before he could, Carlos reasons. There's no reason to worry yet, no matter what his gut tells him.
There's no one in the bedroom when he gets there, and the sheets aren't even rustled. From here, however, he can hear the water running.
Even though that's prove enough that nothing should be wrong, something doesn't sit right. Carlos knocks on the door a few times.
"TK?" Nothing. "Tyler?"
There's a muffled sound he can't quite make out and then a curse. Carlos can barely hear it above his heartbeat in his ears, but it's enough to put him even more on edge. He tried to turn the doorknob, but it doesn't budge.
This last detail is the one that raises all kind of scenarios in his mind. They never lock the bathroom door; there are too many risks —fires, flooding, slipping in the shower...— for them to do that.
Is TK cheating on him? Or did he relapse? Did something bad happen and he doesn't want Carlos to know it?
....What if it isn't TK in there?
His breathing is coming in faster, but he can't let himself be consumed by the panic. Channeling his inner police man, he forces himself to calm down and deepen his breathing. He's got this.They– he'll deal with whatever comes his way. He's got this.
The door slams open while he's focused on calming down, surprising him enough to not be able to repress a visible jump.
"Hi, babe," TK says. There's no inflection in his voice. It's unnerving. "I didn't hear you come in."
Carlos stills. Forces himself to observe; to find out what's going on before reacting in any way. "Yeah," he answers, because he has to say something.
TK tries to move past him, but this is— weird. This isn't how they are, isn't their routine.
"Are you alright?" Carlos asks. TK won't look at him, so he can't tell anything from his expression.
"Yeah," TK says. He takes his pants and his socks off while he answers. He still hasn't taken his hoodie off. "Just tired."
Carlos nods, despite TK not being able to see him from his position. "Bad shift?"
And it's just a second, but all movement ceases. It's just a second, but it's enough.
When TK picks up his movements again, throwing his last sock to the side and climbing under the sheets, his hands are shaking slightly.
He shrugs, and repeats himself: "I'm just tired."
Closes his eyes and nods.
"Can I get you anything?" He says, soft, soft, his voice gentle enough someone else would complain about being babied.
"I just wanna sleep."
"Okay." Carlos takes a change of clothes and turns the light off. "Sleep well."
Carlos lingers there a second more, than walks out. He changes in the living room –there's no need of worrying about being seems the curtains are down and it's too late anyway for any neighbours to accidentally look into their windows.
After throwing the sandwich away, he takes a plate of leftover pasta from the fridge and eats it cold. He doesn't want to wait for it to warm up; doesn't want to leave TK alone any longer than necessary.
When he's ready, he slips into the bathroom and washes his teeth, his face. He catches himself unconsciously checking the bathroom for clues, but stops himself the second he notices.
This isn't necessary. This isn't a case, it's TK. And TK will talk whenever he's ready, or maybe he won't even need to. It could just be a day off, which would be fine. They all have them.
As silently as possible, Carlos cleans everything up and presses off the light switch.
The bed feels cold when Carlos gets in. TK is there, but his far away. It breaks his heart a little, but he understands. He needs space sometimes too.
TK is obviously awake. His breathing is deep, almost as if he were asleep, but he's twitching in a way Carlos can now recognize is not from a dream or a nightmare.
He lays his arm our in his side, a silent invitation, but doesn't really expect anything to happen. Therefore, it's surprising when TK turns and snuggles into his side.
He lifts his hand towards TK's hair and caresses the back of his head as he waits.
This isn't a game: Carlos doesn't really know what's going to happen. Maybe TK will talk, or leave, or lash out. Or maybe nothing will happen. Maybe they'll fall stay asleep, waiting for hours for the other to break the silence. Or maybe, perhaps, they'll fall asleep before anything's talked about. Maybe that would be okay. Maybe then their heads would be clear whenever they decide to talk about it.
Carlos is falling asleep when he notices TK's breaths unsteady. It's just a little shake, a little stop in the middle of each breath, but it's enough to make him feel wide awake once again.
Nevertheless, Carlos tries to focus on keep breathing deeply: not to make TK think he's asleep, he'll know he isn't, but to be a steady anchor for TK to be able to lean on.
His patience pays off before long.
"We had an overdose today," TK confesses, voice low, as if he doesn't dare to disturb the silence that has settled over the house since Carlos got in bed.
"A sixteen year old, still in school." TK continues. "It was his first one." He inhales sharply, the exhale long and shaky. "He didn't make it."
Carlos can't keep silent anymore, TK emotion washing over every thought in Carlos's head. "Oh, TK..."
TK shakes his head. "No," he negates brusquely. "No, it's not–"
TK grasps Carlos's shirt, fists white knuckling it unconsciously. "It should have been me," he snaps, angrily. "I overdosed so many times," he insists, "I didn't even learn."
With that last word, TK's voice breaks. He sniffs a few times, but he doesn't cry. Nothing comes out of his eyes. However, the fight does leave TK's body, becoming a dead weight on Carlos's side.
"It should have been me," he whispers again. Then, barely loud enough for Carlos to be able to grasp his words: "I wish it had been me."
The breath is punched out of Carlos at it, his hand briefly tightening on TK's hair enough for him to be afraid he's hurting him.
Carlos turns to his side, needing to see TK and for him to see him. He lifts his other hand to TK's cheek and nudges him to look up at him. He doesn't speak until their eyes meet needing TK to know how serious this is, how serious he is.
"I'm glad it wasn't you."
TK tries to loos down, but Carlos doesn't let him.
"No, Tyler, listen. I love you. I can't imagine my life without you. Or– I can, but I don't want that. You don't know how much I don't want that."
Carlos closes his eyes roughly at the mental image of what he's about to say, but he forces himself to open them up before he continues. "It could have been you. It– it could have. But it wasn't. And he was, and it isn't fair– But, TK. You make my life so much better. Or lives– the firehouse, your dad, Nancy, Tommy. I just wish you saw yourself as I do."
TK presses his lips gently against Carlos in a chaste kiss. Then he brings his hand up and laces their fingers together.
A long silence falls upon them, Carlos thinking over and over about what he just said.
Eventually, TK kisses Carlos's hand.
"I love you," he says, voice full of admiration and gratefulness.
And Carlos gets that it's a thank you, an I'm glad you're here too, but he isn't sure if TK changes his mind about it –about himself.
Nevertheless, they are here, they are together, and Carlos understands –they've got their entire lives ahead to work on it.