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Three weeks after they break up, Tommy gets a text from Evan.
My kitchenaid broke
What a way to break the silence. It's disarming. Of all the ways that Evan could reach out—all the pleadings and what abouts that Tommy had steeled himself to rebuff—this had never crossed Tommy’s mind as a possibility. He doesn’t have a counterargument prepared for this.
The responsible thing would be to say nothing. Tommy's fingers are moving before he can remind himself of that.
I’m sorry to hear that, he sends.
Fuck, Evan responds. I didn’t mean to actually send that sorry. Meant to just bubble you
A rush of fondness washes over Tommy. He misses the way Evan phrases things, the way he sees the world. He misses trying to get inside Evan's head.
Tommy texts back despite knowing how dangerous it is for him to keep this conversation going. Bubble me?
Yeah like you’ve been doing. Sometimes I look at our texts and I see your little typing bubble but you never send anything
Tommy feels caught out. He didn’t know Evan had seen that. How many times had he seen that? Tommy goes to text Evan all the time, barely able to convince himself to backspace each time. Maybe it's not healthy—maybe it's a little bit of self-punishment—but he 'bubbles' Evan at least three times a day. He can't stop thinking about him. There's so much left unsaid between them. That's Tommy's fault.
I didn’t feel like I should. It didn’t feel fair
Didn't feel like he had the right to reach out and ask where Evan got that bird seed that the orioles in Tommy's backyard like so much. Didn't feel like he had the right to tell Evan the taco place down the street from Tommy's house gave him extra salsa verde this time (because the last time they had gone together, the place had forgotten to give them salsa entirely and Evan had pouted about it all night). Didn't feel like he had the right to text him at 3am when he couldn't sleep because he'd gotten so used to the comforting weight of Evan's warm body spread half on top of him; when he cried with the force of his regrets and his shame and his cowardice and all he wanted was to hear Evan's voice.
Fuck fair, Evan says. This whole thing isn’t fair. I miss you so much I broke my kitchenaid from baking too hard
Tommy's heart skips a beat as he reads the words I miss you. He misses Evan so badly it's like a hole has been ripped out of his chest. It's not getting better as time passes—it's only getting worse. Every day he's more and more sure he fucked up, and every day he's more and more sure Evan deserves someone better than him.
Baking, though. That's a surprise. Evan is a great cook but Tommy didn't know he baked regularly. He doesn't remember Evan even owning a KitchenAid but maybe it was tucked away into the corner of a cabinet that Tommy never got the chance to explore. Tommy tries not to read into the fact that Evan has been baking; tries not to feel like it's his own influence. He's desperate to know if it is.
This is too much, too dangerous. Tommy knows he shouldn’t ask but he does it anyway. He’s selfish and masochistic when it comes to Evan.
Why were you baking so hard?
So I wouldn’t reach out. Every time I wanted to talk to you I started baking something instead. Made me feel close to you again
Evan sends a picture of his fridge filled to the brim with all kinds of baked goods. He sends another of his kitchen island. His apparently broken KitchenAid stand mixer sits between bags of flour, sugar, and other baking items that Tommy can’t identify from this angle.
Inside the KitchenAid bowl is a lumpy slurry of half-mixed ingredients. Evan will have to mix that by hand now if he wants to keep making whatever he started. He'll have to put the work in instead of letting the machine do it for him; churning along easily and without any real friction. Tommy wonders if Evan thinks it's worth it or if he'll throw the whole thing out and start again once he realizes how much elbow grease it takes to beat those lumps of dry flour into something edible. That's what people usually do.
Wow. That's a lot of baking, Tommy says.
This isn’t even all of it, Evan says. This is just this week and I've already given so much away. Please can we talk
Tommy should say no. He should stand firm in his boundaries and in his resolve to stay broken up. But he looks at the loaves and cakes and cookies and—is that baked alaska?—and he’s a little stunned by the physical evidence of just how much Evan misses him.
He thought it was just him who was miserable. He thought Evan would lick his wounds and move on to someone better, someone more worthy of him. He knew Evan wouldn’t be happy about the breakup, but this isn’t the work of a man trying to get over being dumped by an asshole. Evan knows that Tommy has a sweet tooth, knows that he can never say no to dessert—especially baked goods. This isn't anger or sadness. This is longing. This is Evan thinking about Tommy specifically. This is Evan comforting himself by filling up his fridge and his time with reminders of Tommy.
Maybe it's not healthy. Maybe Evan should be angry with him. Maybe they should both be trying to move on. But Tommy feels a pull on his heart and he thinks maybe this is what love feels like.
Fuck it. If they both miss each other this badly, it might be worth it to talk. Nothing can feel worse than these last few weeks, anyway. Already, Tommy feels something healing inside of him just with these few texts.
Well it would be a shame if your mixer martyred itself for nothing, Tommy sends. Coffee at that outdoor spot tomorrow morning?
Thank you, Evan responds. That would be great. I even know your coffee order this time 😏
Tommy laughs, but that response makes him nervous. The issues that caused them to break up are still hanging between them unresolved. Evan still doesn't understand just how ashamed Tommy is of his past. Tommy still doesn't understand why Evan asked him to move in (to the loft! when Tommy has a perfectly good house he's spent years fixing up with his own two hands!) before they'd had a conversation about their future or even said that they love each other.
They both have deep traumas that will take a long time and a lot of work to untangle into something that the other can really get their hands around the shape of. Tommy needs to make sure Evan understands that before he can commit to anything. He needs Evan to understand that he isn't a hero, and that any bravery he's been able to scrape together has come decades too late for Tommy to take any pride in it.
There’s still a lot we don’t know about each other, Tommy sends.
I know, Evan says. I’d still like to change that. Let’s talk about it
Tommy smiles. All his life, he's been terrified to let people in—terrified of how they'd look at him if they knew who he truly was. So he's kept things surface-level. He's cynical, sarcastic, defensive. It's easier to deal with loss if you don't expect to be able to keep things. Anything good that's come into his life has been relished with the bittersweet understanding that it will only be temporary. Enjoy it while it lasts. He thought Evan was the same; something bright and beautiful and joyful to be savored until Tommy's time with him inevitably ran out, and life went back to being merely bearable.
But life without Evan has been entirely unbearable. It's empty, hollow; every corner haunted by the ghosts of little happy memories turned heartwrenching by Evan's absence. It's different than anything Tommy has ever felt before, when something good has left his life, so Tommy takes a deep breath and lets himself believe that maybe things could be different this time. Maybe Evan is different. Maybe Evan is a spark of joy he gets to keep. Maybe it's worth the potential pain to try.
Ok ❤️, he texts Evan. Can't wait