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“You don’t even know what kind of feelings I had when I went to that funeral...”
Ian’s voice cracked against the heavy silence. He thought TJ was truly clueless.. no, worse than clueless, heartless about how deeply he had felt.
Yes, Ian had been the one who said he wanted out of the gang. He had even said he wanted to leave TJ. But the moment TJ actually let him go, the moment he turned his back and vanished, Ian’s chest had felt like it was caving in. Misery had eaten him alive. He couldn’t stand not knowing where TJ was, if he was safe, if he was even breathing.
The funeral had been unbearable. Standing there, surrounded by the stench of death, Ian couldn’t shake the thought that one day, it could be Tj, it could even be himself. The idea of a world without Tj, of never seeing him again, hollowed him out with a terror he could barely admit to himself.
So when he saw Tj alive, standing before him now, the surge of relief was so violent it nearly drowned out his anger. For a fleeting breath, it almost dissolved entirely.
After the funeral, when they ended up alone in the car, the tension between them didn’t need words. Ian could feel it in every sharp breath, every tense movement, every flicker of desire and frustration in Tj’s eyes. They collided, not gently, not carefully, but with the force of years of unspoken feelings and unacknowledged fear.
Their hands gripped, not tenderly but with a desperate need to anchor themselves to each other, to prove they were still here, still real. Every push and pull, every frantic brush of skin, carried everything they hadn’t said at the funeral, the terror, the guilt, the longing, the anger. Ian’s chest ached, his heart pounding, because in that moment, holding on, letting themselves crash into one another, felt like the only way to keep from losing Tj for good.
The car became a small, shaky world where everything else, danger, the gang, the funeral and the inevitability of loss faded away. There was only them, only the raw truth of their bodies and the unspoken admission that they couldn’t bear to be apart. Every gasp, every shiver, every hurried press against each other was a confession neither could put into words.
And yet, even after all that, in the present, Ian’s anger bubbled back to the surface, sharper now. His hands clenched at his sides, trembling, voice low and bitter.
“Just leaving me like that, without saying anything...”
The words hit harder than any blow could.
“Did it feel good, making me miserable?”
He didn’t want to sound so raw, so exposed. He despised the way his words cracked, betraying the ache he had locked away. For so long, he had built a shield of indifference, convincing himself clarity would do them no good, that naming what he felt would only ruin them both. But here, in front of TJ, the cracks spread too wide to hide.
TJ’s jaw tightened. Inside, the storm of his own truth clawed at him, words he had never dared give voice to.
You don’t know anything, TJ thought bitterly, staring at him.
You don’t know how impossible it was to stay away from you.
Do you think I wanted this distance?
If I had not walked away after that funeral, I knew, I would never have been able to let you go.
You want no part of this life, Ian. But I....
TJ’s chest ached with the weight of it.
I wanted you more than anything. And the only way I knew how to keep you safe was to become powerful enough that nothing could touch you. To climb high, to hold the throne, to buy protection with blood and money. That was the only way I thought I could keep us safe.
TJ swallowed hard, fists tightening.
The silence between them was suffocating, charged with everything they had never dared to say. TJ’s hand twitched at his side before he finally grabbed Ian’s wrist, not gently, but with the same roughness he used in every fight. Ian stiffened, anger flashing through him, but he didn’t pull away. He hated himself for the relief flooding him at that grip, for the way his body recognized TJ before his mind could stop it.
“You bastard,”
Ian muttered, voice low, his lip curling even as his chest ached. But when TJ yanked him closer, their foreheads colliding hard enough to sting, the insult dissolved on his tongue. Then TJ’s mouth was on his, crushing, fierce. It wasn’t a kiss born of patience, it was punishment, desperation, and years of restraint snapping all at once. Teeth clashed, lips bruised, breath tangled. Ian shoved against his chest, meaning to push him off, but instead he only pulled him closer, fists knotting into TJ’s shirt like he wanted to tear it apart. Their mouths broke apart with a harsh gasp, both of them panting, glaring at each other like enemies in the middle of a fight.
“This is why I stayed away...”
TJ’s voice was rough, broken, almost a growl. His hand tightened on Ian’s jaw as if holding him there by force.
“I knew if I ever let myself have you... I’d never be able to let you go.”
The words hit Ian like a blow. His first instinct was to sneer, to laugh in his face, but the sound died in his throat. Because deep down, he knew it was true. And the terrifying part? He didn’t want TJ to let him go, not anymore.
Their mouths crashed together again, angrier this time, hungrier. Ian bit at him, punishing, but every bite melted into need, into a helpless groan he couldn’t choke back. His body betrayed him, pressing closer, answering every rough pull, every bruising touch.
Words could be twisted. They had lied to each other before, lied to themselves. But this....this collision of mouths, the heat that sparked from every reckless touch, there was no way to fake it.
If TJ didn’t trust anything Ian said, then he would have to trust this: the way Ian’s body burned for him, the way he clung even as he cursed him, the way he surrendered in spite of himself. And Ian, chest heaving, realized with something like dread that he didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not ever.
Ian thought, fleetingly, that it was a good thing he hadn’t made any promises about going back to Jo. Because in this moment, with TJ’s breath against his skin, the idea of being away from him felt unbearable.