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They come home first, so TK can change out of his blood-soaked clothes, and they can drop off their bags. The drive from the airport to their loft is silent, but TK can practically feel the worry radiating off of Carlos in waves. He grounds himself in the familiarity of the Camaro, the sounds of the engine and the leather seats cushioning him, keeping his feet firmly planted on the floor to connect with this tangible thing, even as it moves at speeds of 45 MPH.
TK showers, scrubbing dried blood off his skin and watching it swirl down the drain. He is glad that woman is okay. He is glad he had been good for something on that plane. Glad his dad had found him, glad Carlos had sorted out the tickets. He’d been good for something because of them. He’d helped save someone’s life, and it is exactly the sort of control he’d needed as life as he knows it spirals and spins out around him.
He pulls on a clean, soft pair of sweats, and a t-shirt, before reaching for one of Carlos’s hoodies and yanking it on over his head, desiring the comfort of the oversized material and the lingering smell of his boyfriend. It’s not as good as a Carlos hug, but he feels engulfed in Carlos anyway.
Carlos waits for him, perched on the edge of their bed already in sweats. He’s staring at TK intently, like he might disappear if Carlos so much as blinks. TK supposes he very well might.
Carlos drives them to Owen’s, but they stop at the Chinese place Gwyn liked in Austin on the way. It’s no dim sum from Spring Street, but nothing ever measures up to Spring Street.
TK isn’t sure if dim sum will even measure up to itself without her. Like maybe his mom’s presence in his memories is the only thing that makes the food taste so good in retrospect.
Carlos is touching him as often as he can. Arm reaching across the center console to hold his hand in TK’s lap as he drives. Ankles touching underneath the table at his dad’s house as they eat their noodles. Pressed up against him on the couch, their hips and thighs connected, even as Carlos has an arm wrapped around him, pulling him into the safety of his warm chest.
TK is grateful Carlos doesn’t constantly ask if he’s okay. Why would he be? How could anything ever be okay again? TK knows he’s thinking it, that it’s a burning question on his lips as his boyfriend practically seems to hover around him. TK senses the near-constant physical contact isn’t just for his benefit, but Carlos’s as well. After all, Carlos nearly lost him today, in more ways than one.
It makes guilt swim with the grief in his stomach.
When they’re back home and finally crawl into bed later, TK wordlessly lets himself be pulled into Carlos’s arms. Carlos is his anchor, without him, TK would surely have drowned a long time ago.
He rolls in Carlos’s arms, pressing his back firmly into Carlos’s chest and stroking his arms, drawing patterns over them with the soft pads of his fingertips. He feels like a coward for being scared of seeing Carlos’s face when he tells him what will surely break his heart. But he won’t keep this from him.
“Carlos?” He whispers.
Carlos presses a kiss to the nape of his neck and the dip of his shoulder, and TK’s eyelids drop at the contact.
“I have to tell you something.”
“It’s okay,” Carlos assures.
TK shakes his head. “No, I need to. I…I can’t keep this from you.”
“Okay,” Carlos says with a shaky breath, like maybe he already knows what this is about.
“I tried to steal fentanyl from work today.” He figures it’s better to get it all out at once, no use in stumbling around it.
Carlos’s arms tighten around him, lips still trailing over the back of his neck.
TK swallows hard. “I didn’t. My dad showed up and stopped me. But I would’ve.”
He takes a brave chance to twist his torso and look up at Carlos. His soft eyes are glistening. But he doesn’t look angry. Just sad. TK isn’t sure which is worse. He’s sorry, not for the first time, that he’s so difficult to love.
“I just keep thinking about how my mom found me and stuck me in rehab when I was twenty-three. And I was just going to do this to her? After all the work she put in, after how much she believed in me. I was just going to throw it away. And I was going to hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Carlos.”
Carlos strokes his face and says nothing. A single tear rolls down his face, falls off his nose and hits TK’s cheek, and TK realizes his own eyes are wet again, too. He turns fully in Carlos’s arms, facing him, trying to read his face in their darkened room.
“Say something,” he urges.
Carlos breathes in slowly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
TK chokes on a laugh. “I’m not okay.”
“I know you’re not. But you’re physically okay. You didn’t steal the drugs because your dad stopped you in time. You didn’t die on a plane because it landed. You’re okay.”
“You can be mad at me,” TK says. “Or-or disappointed.”
He isn’t sure he means the second one, but he’s trying to be brave. He never wants to run again, not when things are hard, not with Carlos.
“I’m not, TK. I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re still healing, and I know that recovery isn’t an easy path.”
Carlos takes his face into his hands and leans forward, kissing TK’s nose and the skin around it.
“You didn’t backslide,” he affirms, speaking the words reverently like a promise that TK needs to hear and have imprinted on his skin.
“I would’ve.” His own voice sounds so small in his ears.
“But you didn’t.”
“You’re too good for me.” TK draws a shaky breath.
“You deserve good, TK.” Carlos runs his thumbs back and forth over TK’s cheeks, gently stroking his skin over and over.
“I’m so difficult to love.”
“And yet, I love you plenty.” Carlos kisses the corner of his mouth.
“I’m a mess.”
“You’re my mess. You’re not too much for me, TK.”
TK sighs, the fight going out of him.
“I just,” his breath shudders, catching and choking. “I’m gonna miss her so fucking much.”
Carlos pulls him in, arms tightening protectively around his back. “I know, baby.”
“It’s not fair. Jonah’s never gonna get to make cookies with her, or-or hear her singing, or hold her hand. And I-I can’t let him end up like me.”
“You’re going to be there for him, TK. And there are worse things in the world than ending up like you, you know.”
Carlos’s words are soft in his ear, hands gently rubbing his back as he begins to shake. He doesn’t believe Carlos, and he doesn’t understand how Carlos can always have so much faith in him. But he ignores that for now, hands clawing for registry at the back of Carlos’s t-shirt, his body shaking.
“But I need her. I need my mom. It’s not fucking fair.”
He begins to sob, finally allowing himself to feel the full force of all the pain he’s been carrying for far, far too long. And Carlos is there, wrapping him up even tighter somehow and holding him together as TK falls apart.
His skin itches and crawls, and a small part of TK still wishes he could shoot up his veins with poison, but he knows that won’t drown out his pain. He knows it would only make it worse, and hurt people. So he holds on tighter to Carlos, fists twisting tightly into the back of his shirt. He’s never been very good at confronting his emotions. But he has to try. He has to try. For his mom’s sake, he has to try.
When his tears eventually subside, and he feels like he can breathe again without fear of choking on another sob, TK eases back from the wet patch he’s left on Carlos’s chest.
“Sorry,” he whispers, rubbing a hand over it.
“It’s okay, babe,” Carlos says, a small hint of a sad laugh in his voice.
“How are you doing?” TK continues to stroke Carlos’s chest. He knows he’s put a lot on his boyfriend today.
He looks up into those soulful and sweet brown eyes as Carlos shrugs. He’s never been the best at sharing his feelings either. It’s something they both consciously try to work on. TK’s fingers tease up from Carlos’s chest to his chin, feeling the first prickles of stubble against the pads of his fingers.
“Please talk to me?” TK coaxes, pouting in that way that normally gets Carlos to do just about anything for him.
“I was just really scared of losing you,” he admits. “And I wish I could take your pain away.”
Carlos is too sweet, TK thinks. He’s understanding, and patient, and loving. And TK is trying to remind himself he deserves those things, that he deserves Carlos. He doesn’t want to run away again, doesn’t think he could survive it even if he did. Breaking up with Carlos had very nearly killed him. He isn’t even sure Carlos realizes he’s the only reason TK woke up. If he hadn’t heard his voice, if he hadn’t known Carlos had been keeping vigil at his bedside and still wanted to fight for them to fix things…well, he probably would have given up. And now? Without his mom? TK is certain that the man holding him is his life jacket, the only thing keeping him from slipping beneath the surface.
TK takes Carlos’s face into his hands and pulls him forward, pressing their foreheads together.
“You being here for me is enough,” TK whispers. “You couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried. I’m too stubborn.”
Carlos smiles, angling his lips to rest against TK’s cheek. “Or maybe if I just never let you go, you’ll never get yourself in more danger.”
“Rotten business we’re in then.”
Carlos’s arms tighten around him, pulling him in closer again. For a moment, TK is enveloped with just the warmth and the scent of Carlos, and the sounds of his breathing, and it’s enough to chase everything else out of his head. He wishes he really could just lay here forever, in Carlos’s arms, surrounded by Carlos’s love. Maybe they’d meld into one and turn to stone and be put on display in a museum for the world to see how much TK is loved. But no one would ever truly get it. Carlos’s love is much deeper than that. And it’s not for show.
TK tugs at Carlos, pulling him over on top of him, comforted by the weight of his boyfriend sinking his body deeper into the mattress. Carlos’s face tucks into his neck, the spot where he always makes his home, and TK can feel soft lips on his skin. He runs his fingers through Carlos’s hair, gently combing through curls. His other arm is wrapped securely around Carlos’s shoulders like he’s still trying desperately to hold on and keep from drowning. A voice in the background of his brain continues to nag at him.
“You’re sure you’re not mad at me?” He whispers after a long time, when Carlos’s breath is even and he isn’t sure that Carlos isn't asleep.
“I’m not, baby.” His voice is sleepy, like he’d been nearly there before TK dragged him back out.
“It’s okay if you want to be.”
Carlos sighs, leaning back enough to look down at TK, still pinned beneath his weight.
“I don't want to be mad at you, TK, not when you’re hurting. You can’t hang on to ‘what ifs.’ If your dad hadn’t caught you, Nancy or Captain Vega might have. Or you might have caught yourself. You didn’t relapse, and even if you did, we would’ve gotten through it. I’m not going to hold it against you so please stop asking me to.”
TK nods, the movement tiny and nearly imperceptible. “Okay,” he whispers. “Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Hi, babe,” TK greets as he walks into the loft, sliding the door closed and locking it behind himself.
Carlos is sitting cross-legged on the couch, looking adorable in his reading glasses, with a book propped open in his hands.
Oh, to be a book, TK thinks, giddy from his surprisingly good mood. He drapes himself over the back of the couch to plant a wet kiss on Carlos’s cheek
“Hey.” Carlos looks up with a smile and marks his page before shutting the book. “How was it?”
TK nods, rounding the couch to sit down beside Carlos. “It was really, really good. I’m glad Tommy talked me into going.”
Carlos’s arm slides around his shoulders and TK leans back into him, always feeling a million times lighter in these strong arms.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” TK confirms. “I remembered stuff about my mom that I didn’t even know I remembered. Stuff I hadn’t thought about in years. It was just great to talk about her and hear other people’s stories. It makes you feel less alone, you know?”
Carlos presses a kiss to TK’s temple. “That’s great, babe. I’m glad to hear it. Hey, are you hungry? I can heat us up some leftovers.”
He moves to get up, but TK latches onto him before he can make it very far. He wraps his arms around Carlos’s middle and tucks his face into the crook of Carlos’s shoulder.
“Wait just a minute?” He mumbles into Carlos’s skin. He’s rewarded with Carlos returning the hug.
Carlos rubs his back in slow circles, giving TK the time he needs.
“You okay?” He asks when TK finally draws back.
“Yeah,” TK nods, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m okay. I just–thank you. I appreciate you so much, more than I think I could ever really tell you.”
Carlos smiles. “I know.”
TK is pulled forward into a soft kiss before Carlos gets off the couch, successfully this time.
“Dinner?” He asks again.
“Yeah, dinner sounds good. I’ll help you with it,” TK offers.
“You can just rest,” Carlos says, heading for the kitchen.
“No, I’d like to.”
He stands and follows his boyfriend into the kitchen, giggling as they work together, preparing their dinner in this home they’ve created. They sit down at the table together, taking their usual spots, with Carlos at the head, and TK on his left.
They’ve been doing this ever since TK moved into the loft, finding it challenging to spend even one meal without touching. Sometimes, TK thinks he really must have been made to belong to Carlos, so that his right hand could fit in Carlos’s left and they could still eat with their dominant hands. His heart swells with love, even if beneath that, he’s still sad and grieving too.
TK will be okay. The wounds on his heart will scab and scar over, forever irreparable, but easier to deal with. The only reason he knows for sure he will be okay is because of the man shaped like forever beside him, holding his hand and telling him about a call he was on today. He’s so brave and sure and strong. He has more love, strength, and patience than anyone TK thinks he’s ever met.
TK has Carlos. His rock, his love, his life.
He’ll be just fine.