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They stay there for a long time, staring up at the sky even after the birds are out of sight. Tom feels tired in a way that goes beyond the physical exertion, the sweat and aches of his body nothing compared to the turmoil of emotions that hasn't been given a chance to settle. All he knows is that Jeff is there, beside him, a steadying presence throughout everything.
As if on cue, Jeff pushes away from the pillar and starts walking. Tom follows without thinking.
"What are you doing?" The question is immediate, carelessly thrown over one shoulder as Jeff glances back at him.
"We're leaving." He continues walking, ignoring the taste of bile that's rising in the back of his throat.
"I'm leaving, yeah, but you don't have to." Jeff turns around, facing Tom, but keeps moving — walking backwards, maintaining the distance between them. "This is yours."
"What?"
"I heard what Scott said before he died. He wanted to leave it all to you. Hell, even if he hadn't, it still would've been yours. You're the only one left now."
Tom stumbles slightly, and comes to a halt. Jeff stops too. His body is relaxed, shoulders slanted in the very picture of nonchalance, but his eyes are intent and sharp. Tom feels like they're boring a hole through him.
"I don't want it. I don't want any of it," he manages to force out. Just the mere thought of setting his foot in that house again makes him want to throw up.
"You shouldn't decide that now, Tom."
"But I mean it. I won't change my mind." He moves forward again, closing the distance between them, and this time Jeff lets him.
"Well, it's your loss," Jeff murmurs. He's aiming for casual, Tom can tell, but he misses the mark.
"I don't..." Tom begins, but cuts himself off as he remembers something. There is one thing he wants out of his inheritance, despite what he'd just said.
Jeff stiffens, eyes narrowing. "What?"
"Your place, your land, it... I'll get it back for you. The deed — it's probably in the house somewhere."
He starts to turn around, but Jeff's hand shoots out and grabs his arm. "Don't."
"But..."
"I don't care about that. Leave it be. Don't go back in there if you don't want to."
And there it is again. The caring that had been there all along, only disguised as indifference and contempt. Tom had fallen for it every single time, had thought Jeff couldn't stand him, never realizing he was being protected. He'd been such a fool.
"Jeff, I — I wish I'd know. If only..."
The grip on his arm loosens, turning into a gentle touch instead. "Hey, listen to me. No regrets. That was the first thing I learned in the war. Thinking about what could've been will drive you mad." Jeff hesitates, pressing his lips together in a grim line, before continuing. "I can't say I'm sorry Scott is dead. But for you to find out that he was your father and then lose him mere minutes later... I didn't want that."
"No, that's not what I meant." But it seems hard to say, somehow, and so Tom tries to show it instead. He reaches out to touch Jeff, at first just a mirroring touch, before his hand strays up, up, moving along the arm until it reaches the red bandana around Jeff's neck. Two fingers slip beneath the cloth to rest against the warm skin, the beat of Jeff's pulse both reassuring and familiar.
"Ma made me swear to leave, and I thought you wanted me gone. I never would've left you behind otherwise."
Jeff is still, face unreadable. He hasn't moved away from the contact, but neither is he encouraging it. "And now? What will you do?"
"It's up to you," Tom replies, echoing the words Jeff had just said to him. "I want you to come with me, I want to take you away from this place. But if you prefer to stay then I'll stay too."
A look of pain crosses Jeff's face, there and gone so fast that Tom isn't sure he even saw it. But there is no denying the way Jeff takes a step back, breaking the contact. Tom's hand remains outstretched, pointlessly hanging in the air, before he lets it fall.
"I stayed for two reasons," Jeff says quietly. "For Mercedes' sake, and for you. In case you came back home someday. I was always waiting for you."
"But then..." Tom starts to move forward, but stops when Jeff raises a hand, palm out, a clear sign to not come any closer.
"You don't get it."
"Then tell me," Tom snaps, unable to rein in the swell of frustration. "Stop keeping secrets from me."
"Secrets, huh?" Jeff's hands clench and unclench, perhaps unconsciously wishing to be holding a bottle — or a pistol.
Tom stays silent. He doesn't have to wait long before Jeff continues, his voice low and rough, as if the words are being torn from his throat. "Do you want to know what my reaction was, Tom? When I found out we were only half-brothers? I wasn't upset — I was relieved. Because it makes these feelings just a bit more acceptable. Not by much," he adds with a wry scoff, "but at least a little bit."
The smile that slowly spreads across Tom's face would've served as an answer in itself, but Jeff is stubbornly staring at the ground. "Is that enough for you?" he asks, almost bitterly. "Now will you get out of here already?"
"Yeah, I'll go." The reply has its intended effect: Jeff's head snaps up, looking at Tom for a split second before getting himself back under control and averting his gaze again — only he freezes halfway through the motion, eyes flickering back to Tom in obvious surprise.
Tom continues smiling. "I'll go," he repeats, "and you're going with me."
It's still not enough to dispel the confusion and disbelief on Jeff's face, which makes for a good excuse to reach out and close his fist around both of Jeff's suspenders, tugging him in close. That apparently does it, or maybe Jeff's self-control finally crumbles, for the next thing Tom knows he's being kissed. Hard, desperate, as if Jeff believes it's the only chance he'll ever get — and that's wrong, but Tom has to let it slide for the moment, too focused on returning the kiss.
There'll be plenty of time for Jeff to get it, after all.