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“You know, I hate when you do that,” Brian muttered, his voice a disappointed whisper as he watched the smoke float lazily from Tim’s mouth and curl into the chilly evening air.
“Do what?” Tim inquired, his voice raspy as he cocked his head slightly to the side, thick eyebrows raised slightly– right now was definitely the wrong time to think about how damn enchanting Tim was, smoke crawling from his lips like it wasn’t eager to depart from him either.
He blinked. Right, focus. You’re losing him, Brian.
“Destroy yourself,” Brian replied, his voice cracking at the edges like the faith he had in Tim was.
Brian motioned to the still-lit cigarette, to the way Tim messily tapped the ash off the balcony like he didn’t care about anything, because maybe he didn’t, because he was too far gone and–
Brian knew he was fighting a losing war. It was downright frustrating to love someone like Tim. Reserved, cold, even distant at times. Brian felt like he was unable to understand his boyfriend more often than he would admit.
Tim laughed, this terrible breathless noise that made Brian’s chest ache. Partially because it was meant to be cruel instead of warm, but also because it didn’t always sound so strangled, not before Tim’s smoking got overwhelming. God, how long had that been?
“If you were me, you would too. You have no idea.”
The statement shook him. He hated it when Tim got like this. Cynical, hopeless– the humor he fell for him over a jagged weapon that was all he had left in fending off his real feelings.
Tim must’ve noticed the look on his face, because he shifted uncomfortably, putting the cigarette out with a soft ‘hiss’.
“Brian, you know I’m fine. I don’t need you to babysit me, I can stop whenever I–”
“That’s bullshit, Tim.” Brian’s voice rose, echoing inside his own head almost as if he’d exited his own body and all that he’d left behind was the anger bubbling inside him for the past few months. “If you could stop, you know damn well that you already would’ve.”
Tim scowled. The soft air that had felt calming on his skin a moment ago seemed to sting him now, as if Brian was leaving minuscule cuts he’d left to burn.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Brian. You don’t know shit about what it’s like to actually have it hard,” Tim screamed, his voice far past any pretense of warning. “You got off easy, pretty boy. Some of us have real problems.”
All at once, it felt as if the air had been struck out of Brian’s lungs. Did he actually say that? He had to be joking, right? Tim could be cold, but this? This was borderline cruel.
Brian laughed. It wasn’t funny enough to laugh, but he was tired and bitter and empty, and all he knew how to do was laugh. His eyelashes fluttered against his rosy cheeks rapidly, a desperate blockade against tears that threatened to spill over. He refused to let Tim see him cry, not while he was tearing him apart, not while he was sinking his claws into him like a wild animal, not like this.
He loved Tim, of course, but he’d grown so very weary of this cycle. He was sick of pleading with him, of watching him die, of feeling as if he’d already lost the man he loved.
Brian didn’t bother looking back at Tim as he swung open the patio door. He didn’t worry about closing it. If Tim didn’t care, then he wouldn’t either.
He trudged to the bathroom in heavy, unrelenting footsteps. He wasn’t used to being this mad at Tim, at doing anything other than caring for him. Babysitting, Tim had said. And here was Brian – stupid, hopeful Brian, thinking it would be recognized as an act of love. Of course, the real world was never as perfect as things were in your head.
The door shut with a click, Brian’s entire body shaking as he settled his weight down onto the bathroom floor. He was used to having a more bold sarcasm to him, more used to feeling like anything dished out to him was something he could fight back against. Some days were just harder to fight than others, he guessed. It would get better. Tim would get better, and things could go back to the way they were before. They would be okay. He would be okay.
Things weren’t always like this. It’s not like when they started dating, everything was picture-perfect– they didn’t act like couples did in the movies– but they were much happier. Both of them were. Tim used to laugh more. He used to be more caring, used to love himself more, and feel the need to keep Brian around– but now it felt as if he didn’t care what happened to either of them.
Brian’s palms flattened against cold tile, his head spinning in a way he couldn’t recognize. He grappled to keep up, chest rising and falling in rapid motions as if he couldn’t get enough air into his body. If he was going to die right now, he wasn’t even near ready to.
The room spun violently, and all he could register was the salty taste of tears slipping through lips that were parted in sobs he didn’t remember the beginning of– broken and probably way too loud, loud enough to alert someone– but his body was reeling. He couldn’t be bothered to be polite, couldn’t handle calming himself down. It felt impossible.
He wasn’t aware of how much time he’d spent on the floor, resigned to the idea that nobody was coming, that he would always be a tool but never harbor any sort of permanence. He stayed in this state, crumpled on the bathroom floor, until he faintly registered the sound of the door cracking open.
Tim’s voice came in harshly at first. “Why the fuck did you storm off like that, are you–” his voice trailed off, pausing, crouching down to Brian’s level. His voice softened, and Brian wanted to cry over how many times he’d done that for him, over the fact that somehow it was the first time the roles had been reversed.
“Brian I– I didn’t know it was like that. I swear I didn’t. I’m sorry, I’ve got you.” Tim whispered, his voice so low that Brian could barely hear it – like anything louder than that would cause Brian to break into pieces. Brian didn’t protest this because he honestly felt as if he would.
Tim’s arms were warm, his flannel draped loosely around his form. Brian hadn’t noticed how much weight he was losing until now, he thought. He couldn’t find the words to say this, nor could he find any words at all. Strong hands fisted at the back of Tim’s shirt, curled, feeling awfully awkward and useless. These hands he’d used to hurt, to love, to destroy– but never to need. Not like this.
It really wasn’t that he hated the idea, but more so that he never had the chance to cling. He never had the opportunity to hold onto anything, never had any chance to grow if he didn’t personally ensure it. At least, it had been a long time since he had.
Tim cradled Brian as he sobbed, feeling something tender that he hadn’t had the opportunity to explore in many years. His hands caressed through mussed hair, as if brushing his fingers through the locks would allow him to brush away the pain, to ease it.
“I know, I know,” Tim repeated. He said it over and over, like a mantra, calming himself more than anyone else as Brian’s tears soaked into his shoulder.
This was all Brian had ever wanted, and now that he had it, he was terrified of losing it. His mind raced as he struggled to communicate, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn’t know how Tim could look at him with such reverence, such patience. Like he deserved it. Like he hadn’t almost been the reason they’d lost each other many times before.
“Don’t go, Tim,” Brian said, his voice soft and broken. He sounded like he was one step away from breaking completely as he continued. “We’re lucky to even be here, to have been the ones to survive, and it feels like you’re killing yourself slowly. I’m scared. I don’t want you to leave me here alone.”
Their eyes met, Tim stuttering uselessly. He didn’t really know what to say in this kind of situation.
“I- Brian, I’m trying. I didn’t know it worried you that much, but if you really want me to, I can cut down on smoking.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! I mean, yes. I’ve been considering it. I’ve been losing weight because of it, which means losing muscle. I stopped feeling like I liked myself at all.”
Brian took a moment to process Tim’s words, a grin spreading wide across his face. He looked so cute, Tim thought. So carefree.
Brian was shaken out of his thoughts by the sudden sensation of a hand cradling his face, warm and gentle as Tim connected their lips. His arms went from Tim’s shoulders to grasping gratefully around his neck, kissing back like there was no time to lose. He tasted like smoke, but Brian couldn’t care less. It had been months since they’d shared a real kiss.
When Tim finally pulled back, Brian looked up at him starrily. He could almost see the college boy he’d been before, the kid he’d been with the big dreams. The reason he’d fallen for him in the first place.
“I can’t promise it’s going to be easy. But if it’s for you, I’ll try.”