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Ray has been acting weird.
Muttering, hiding his phone, avoiding questions. Pete's even seen him tucking money into his sock drawer, like he's going to run away somewhere. He's hiding something from Pete, and Pete thinks he knows what it is.
Ray is going to break up with him.
Pete comes to this conclusion late one night, when Ray isn't in their apartment because he's watching Hank and Clementine's baby girl, Nellie. Hank had gotten basically his dream job, something with conservation that Pete doesn't fully understand, a few months out of college, and so the Olsons had moved up to Maine. They were only a few hours away from their respective parents, and they were close to Ray and Pete, who shared an apartment. Ray's been working as a substitute teacher, and Pete's working at a youth homeless shelter, a job that doesn't pay great and takes a toll on his mental health, but one that he loves. He thinks he's making a real difference, at least in someone's life.
Pete's laying on the couch, writing, when he suddenly realizes that on top of the weird behavior—the face-down phone, the money—Ray hasn't kissed him in two days. Forty-eight hours is, truly, nothing, but Ray's never been stingy with physical affection. Pete certainly isn't. He starts, quietly, to spiral, the poem on the page stopping midsentence as he sits up. Was he making Ray uncomfortable, with all the hugs and kisses and flirting? Did Ray even like him anymore?
Pete doesn't know what he'd do if this ended. Their breakup would probably fuck up the whole Musketeer group, and then what? Would Pete be alone?
The rest of his friends are scattered to the winds after college: Art's getting his masters in Louisiana, Collie and Stebbins are in Collie's much-adored South Dakota, Harkness is somewhere in New York City, and Barkovitch's going to move from Kentucky to Wisconsin in a few weeks. He'd have Hank in immediate contact, but, who's to say Hank wouldn't take Ray's side? Then who would he have?
His spiral is interrupted by Ray himself, who unlocks the door and shuffles in, looking exhausted.
"Nellie spit on me," He complains in lieu of a greeting, all light-hearted and tired, and then walks off to shower. Pete watches him go, fondness quickly overtaken by the dread pooling thick in his stomach. What would he do without this?
Pete worries for another day, waving off Ray's concerns, before he does something he knows he's not supposed to. Snoops.
Already with his heart in his throat, Pete sneaks into their room like he's going to be caught. Ray went out earlier and wouldn't tell Pete where he was going. Just went pink and waved his hand like it wasn't important before escaping out the door.
He opens the sock drawer and digs into the corner, only to find…nothing.
No money, no anything other than Ray's socks. Pete's hopelessly confused for a moment, horrified that he's been imagining, projecting actions onto Ray when Ray was only going about his normal routine. Then, the worst-case scenrio begins to take shape.
Ray's sick of him, but didn't want to face actually breaking up with him, and so instead saved up the money and left. Went to live with one of their friends, left Pete to deal with everything on his own.
This is ridiculous even in Pete's own mind, but he spends the rest of the day on edge regardless, terrified that Ray will never walk through the door again.
But Ray does, and carrying takeout, no less. Pete's so dizzy with relief that he considers jumping Ray's bones right there in the living room. He manages to reign himself in and they eat and talk and laugh and it's just right. He thinks that everything will be okay, before Ray sneaks off to their room, Pete hears drawers open and close, and everything comes crashing down onto him again.
Pete tries everything after that to make Ray not want to leave. He's suddenly been reminded that Ray leaving him is inevitable, but he doesn't want it to happen yet. He's come to the conclusion that he must have started burdening Ray, and so he's doing his best to correct.
He starts making more of their meals, doing more chores around the apartment. They don't really fight in general, but Pete starts avoiding even the minorest of disagreements. If Ray wants to watch something for their weekly movie night, they watch it. If Ray wants to get something specific for dinner, they get it.
If Pete's nothing but agreeable and helpful, there's no reason for Ray to leave him.
If he's good enough, he can salvage this.
He can tell Ray is noticing the change in his behavior, but he isn't saying anything about it, so Pete has to believe it's working.
Only, Ray is still hiding something. He's not stashing anything in the sock drawer anymore, instead, Pete's convinced he's hiding something in the back of the desk drawer. He's still hiding his phone, still tense when he used to touch Pete without reserve, still flushing at any mention of where he's been going.
And more than anything, Pete is…scared. He's never had something that lasts. He doesn't know how to deal with the ending of what was supposed to be permanent.
Pete's laying on top of Ray on the couch as they watch some documentary Pete really doesn't care about. He rests his face in the crook of Ray's neck, and breathes. He can't hold onto Ray tight enough, can't inhale enough of his scent. Ray's arm slung across his waist feels like it's burning a whole through his skin. He feels desperate.
Please, he thinks, unsure who he's begging, Please let me keep this. I don't think I can do without it.
Pete hides his face deeper into the crook of Ray's shoulder and neck. He tries to blink back tears.
Please let me keep this. Oh god, please let me keep this.
When the idea of Ray leaving gets so loud Pete can't go an hour alone without at least absently thinking that Ray's never coming back, he calls Collie Parker and his weird boyfriend. Stebbins had no interest in staying anywhere near his father, and Collie had no interest in staying anywhere near Maine, and so the two of them have been making a lovely life for themselves in a small Sioux Falls apartment.
Collie answers with a smile, like he's expecting something, but it drops when he sees Pete's morose face.
"Oh, shit. Is everything good?"
Pete swallows and nods. "Can I talk to you 'bout somethin' serious?"
Collie nods, brows furrowing. "Of course."
"I—uhm—" Pete mumbles, looking down. He doesn't even want to put it into words, this dread of his. "I think Ray's goin' to break up with me."
"What the fuck." Pete hears, and then Stebbins is in frame too, leaning over Collie's shoulder incredulously.
Collie looks baffled, then bewildered, then disturbed. "What?"
"He's been actin' weird. Real secretive, you know? Figitin' and avoidin' my questions. He's been squirrelin' away money, hidin' somethin' from me, and I think it—" He realizes he's started to cry, and he wipes his eyes, "I think it's over."
Collie nods slowly, eyes squinting. "And this is the same fucker who bought you that huge bouquet for Valentine's like a month ago?" Stebbins is rolling his eyes so far up into his head that Pete considers telling him they'll get stuck like that.
"People fall outta love," He says, strangely disgruntled. It's suddenly important that Pete gets his point across, that Collie, and Stebbins, he guesses, understand where he's coming from. Why aren't they understanding the gravity of the situation? "I don' want to talk to him about it because I don' want us to end."
"Communicating." Stebbins says faintly. "What a novel idea." He wanders off, but not before ruffling Collie's hair.
"I think he might be breakin' up with me, Parker." Pete says.
"I don't think you have to worry about that." Collie says flatly, "If we have a repeat of my birthday I'm putting Garraty in the goddamn ground."
It all comes to a head about a week later, when Pete is laying on their bed reading, and hears Ray talking on the phone. Pete's been pretty invested in his book—Dream Work, Mary Oliver— but when Ray raises his voice at whoever he's talking to, Pete is suddenly on high alert.
"I know! Fucking Christ!" Ray snaps. He sounds stressed. "Jesus, sorry, Hank." He's talking quieter again now, but Pete feels every word behind his teeth. "Yeah, yeah, I'm the biggest hypocrite in the fifty states, go soak your head….But shouldn't I—Okay, okay, Jesus. I will."
Hank's in on it. Pete's going to be alone after this. Where is he going to go after this? Back to Georgia, with no one waiting for him? Off to Louisiana, or South Dakota, to darken someone else's door?
Some part of him wants to thank Ray for all he's done, for all he's let Pete have. Some part of him wants to fall down at Ray's feet and beg him not to make Pete leave the closest thing to home he's ever had.
"Pete?" Ray says quietly, suddenly in the doorway. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
Fear slams into Pete full-force, chest stuttering as he tries and fails to get himself under control, sitting up and putting his book down.
Not yet, please not yet.
He nods.
Oh god, not yet. Not yet, not yet.
Ray swallows and moves closer. He seems unsure if he should sit or stand, one hand in his front pocket. Then, he nods, set on something, and opens his mouth:
Notyetnotyetnot—
"Pete, I—"
"Will you tell me what I did wrong?"
Ray recoils like he's been slapped, but Pete, incapable of a graceful exit, continues to run his mouth, tears blazing in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.
"I didn' mean to—to ruin this. I—I know there's somethin' wrong with me but I've been tryin' to fix it, y'know? I'm—I'm sorry. I don' know how to make it work—I—I—Ray, please—I can fix it—I can be better, I promise, I—"
"Pete!" Ray says, on the bed next to him. He reaches out for Pete's face and takes it in his hands.
"Pete, I—" He sounds heartbroken, and looks it too: his brows pinched, brown eyes shining with worry. He's beautiful.
"I love you." Ray lands on. 'But' hangs unsaid in the air. Pete leans into Ray's hands, hating himself for wanting to savour this last affection, given to him out of what can only be pity.
Bracing himself, Pete pulls away from Ray, scrubbing his own hands over his face and breathing shallowly.
"I ain't tryin' to force you into—into anythin'," He says, "I just want to know what I did—see if I could—"
"Pete," Ray says again. Then: "I'm not breaking up with you, okay?"
Pete could faint with relief. All the tension leaves his body and tears begin to drop freely again.
"Okay?" Ray prompts again, looking worried.
"Okay," Pete says. Ray leans in and kisses him on his scarred cheek, before taking his hands. Pete brings them up to his mouth and kisses Ray's knuckles, feeling dizzy with gratitude.
"Thank you." He says, but Ray's brows only furrow deeper.
"What the hell are you thanking me for?" Ray says softly, "I'm not doing anything hard. I'm fucking obsessed with you, man, everybody knows it."
Pete nods, blinking rapidly and trying to get his tears under control. Ray pulls him into his arms, and they hold each other quietly for several minutes, Pete's face pillowed on Ray's shoulder. It's nice.
Suddenly, it occurs to him that they've forgotten something. Keeping his hands around Ray's shoulders, Pete pulls away slightly.
"What did you wanna talk 'bout?"
Ray groans and turns pink. "Well I don't want to do it now."
"Nah, c'mon, you got me curious now Garraty. If you weren't squirrelin' away money to run away, the hell are you doin' it for?"
"You saw me do that?" Ray looks mortified.
"You ain't subtle, darlin'," Pete says, "Why'd you think I was so nervous?"
"Jeeze, Pete, I'm sorry." Ray says, but now he's sounding guilty and that's not what Pete wants at all.
"No, you're a-okay," Pete says, rubbing his shoulder. "You know how you can make it up to me? Tell me what you came in to tell me."
Ray sighs, collects himself, and takes one hand away from Pete's waist to worm it into his front pocket.
He sheepishly produces a small black box the creaks on its hinges when he opens it, hands shaking. Pete stares open-mouthed at the silver ring inside, engraved with small five-pointed stars. A wedding ring.
"I was going to ask you to marry me."
Pete looks back and forth between the ring and Ray's pink face.
"Really?" He hears himself say.
"Yes, really, Pete." Ray says, suddenly looking much more nervous.
"I—" Pete's unsure why he wants to talk Ray out of it, but he's suddenly filled with guilt at the instinct to lock Ray down with him . He wants so badly to chain them together so they never have to be apart, but what right does he have to load Ray up with all his fucking baggage, to drag him to the bottom of the ocean with Pete? He's skitish, he's annoying, he needs near-constant reassurance that the people he's close to aren't leaving. There's something rotten within him that makes everyone leave, and it's only by some fluke of the universe that Ray and his friends have stuck around him this long. Does Ray really want to attach himself to that?
"Are you sure?" Pete manages to get out, looking down at the ring and feeling longing like he never has before.
"I've never been more sure of anything." Ray says firmly. And Pete wants to believe him. He guesses that Ray did save up and go out and buy a ring. He must have had time to think it through.
"Ask me again, Ray." He says, gaining confidence.
Ray grins and rolls off the bed to drop onto one knee. Pete shuffles over to the side so he can look at his boy.
Ray clears his throat, but is unable to fight his smile back. "Will you, Pete McVries, make me the happiest man alive and marry me?" Despite his teasing tone, he's looking up at Pete earnestly, like Pete really would make him the happiest man alive just by taking the ring.
"Yes, I will." Pete says, and cracks a nervous smile. There's some awful part of him that still expects Ray to stand up and walk out the door, but of course, Ray doesn't. Instead, he lights up, goddamn beams, and scrambles up to put the ring on Pete's finger.
It looks nice, the shining silver ring against his dark skin. Some poet he is; all he can come up with to describe a wedding ring on his finger is nice. But it is, and he nearly starts crying again, but Ray tucks himself into Pete's side and uses his hand, gently, to turn Pete's face towards him.
"I love you, Pete." He says, and presses their lips together.
Pete pulls back to say: "I love you too," before kissing him again.
Later, they'll tell their friends, who will cheer and clap and say I fuckin' told you so, huh, Garraty, never fuckin' doubt me again, and See, Pete? Nothing to worry about. Later, Pete will go out of his way to introduce Ray to everyone as my fiancée. Later, they'll pick their suits and their flowers, decorate the backyard of an ecstatic Ginnie Garraty's home in white. Later, Pete will write Ray a poem, one he considers his own best work, and read it out in front of everyone they love. Later, they'll get married.
But for now, Pete lays against Ray's chest and contemplates a matching ring on Ray's finger. He thinks his boy would look best in gold.