Archive of Our Own

Grace remembers back when Dan was still new to Grover Cleveland—new to San Francisco and its heat that feels sticky and hot enough to make you want to bathe three times a day, submerging yourself in cold water. God knows Grace has done that so many times now, coming home from work, peeling off his suit, and jumping straight into a bath while Dan prepares their dinner. Dan—oh, Dan—Grace remembers being mildly annoyed by this guy—just mildly, just a little. Grace has never been much of a hater anyway. 

The guy was decent; Grace was just at that point in his life where he was always mildly annoyed by things. He wishes he could be as young as Dan, but eh. It’s life.

Back then, Grace was still a bit skittish around Dan, mostly because he had always been so used to being the favorite teacher among his students. Everyone preferred him, every parent liked him, his way of teaching, and almost all of his students came to love science even if it was never their strongest suit. 

Then in comes Dan Dunne, a history teacher from Brooklyn, who is somehow as “cool”—if not much cooler than Grace. He’s younger than Grace by about six years, which feels like a big slap to Grace. At 25, Dan was busy with his teaching career, while Grace was busy being laughed at for his work and arguing with 40-year-olds who thought they were gods just because they had their masters—so… eh.

But back to the main topic. He’s territorial over his kids, okay?! And Dan didn’t help because he refused to leave Grace alone; the younger man would always bother him, following him around—going as far as asking him out on a date. 

It was… charming—sure, endearing, now that Grace thinks about it. It’s obvious that Dan liked him the moment they met in the assembly hall, already staring and gawking at Grace; it’s not like Grace didn’t hold the same idea.

It just… took Grace a while to see Dan as more than a co-worker. It took a thousand times of Dan asking Grace to eat lunch with him, or have dinner at his home, before Grace finally gave in. He’s actually pretty glad that Dan insisted and pushed until Grace decided to just break down and let Dan do what he wanted, so now… they have been dating for a year and seven, or eight months now.

Funny, Grace wouldn’t have thought that he’d even last one month with Dan; their personalities clash from time to time. They are both passionate—Grace’s passion has no limits or bounds, and he doesn’t let the low ceiling push him down. 

But Dan, for someone who had been shot down by Grace again and again, has a strong passion, though his motivation is low and his ability to stand up is even lower. He easily loses strength and takes things too much to heart.

Dan feels too much while Grace feels just enough. Their relationship could have ended because of their conflicting personalities, but Dan is different with Grace. Grace isn’t just a “passion” for Dan; in fact, Grace doesn’t really know what he is to Dan—of course, yes, they are boyfriends; that’s kind of obvious by now. But Dan holds onto him as if Grace is going to leave, and it’s not like Grace wants to. Dan is a good guy—really good. He treats Grace well, understands him, and doesn’t undermine his needs.

The first week they were together, there were times Dan would sleep alongside him—well, not in bed; they had boundaries. Dan would sleep on the couch while Grace stayed in his own bed. It was sweet of him; Grace can’t help but like that. Also, he’s cute—Grace has always liked cute men. 

Sure, it took him a while to see it, but hey, they’re together now! Pretty happy, and you could almost call it perfect—like Dan was specifically made for Grace. So whatever.

“You’re taking too long.” Dan moves the curtain, sliding it open with a whoosh and a shit-eating grin. He’s wearing a white shirt and black cotton shorts as Grace yelps a little louder than usual, startled by the surprise. The water splashes onto his face as Dan throws his legs in and sits down in front of him, grinning. Their legs press against each other; hell, Grace can even feel Dan’s toes brushing against his ass as Dan sits there grinning while Grace sits up, fully naked from the waist down, his face red. 

“Fudging fudge, you scared the heck out of me.” Grace splashes water onto Dan’s face as Dan splutters, giggling. “I kept calling you again and again! Dinner’s done, and you’re here staring at this… duck.” Dan looks pointedly at the yellow rubber duck floating between them as Grace grabs it, holding it to his chest.

“Don’t listen to Dan, little Harry. You’re not just a duck; you’re Harry,” Grace mutters. Dan rolls his eyes, grinning from ear to ear as he lowers his head under the water to wet his hair. His brown—almost black—hair is now wet as he wipes his face with his hands. 

“Oh no, I’m not helping you wash your back,” Grace points out, but Dan is already slipping his shirt off, giggling. “No, you are. Consider it payment for the alfredo I made that is slowly getting cold,” he says, wiggling and sending more water out of the tub as he throws his shirt onto the tile with a wet splat.

Grace groans, leaning back as Dan shimmies out of his shorts and underwear, tossing them aside as he reaches for the blue loofah they are sharing—disgusting, Grace knows that well, but Dan refuses to buy another one. 

“Ugh, Dan,” Grace says. But he does get to work, letting Harry go and sitting him at the edge of the tub. Grace kneels down and gets some shampoo to massage into Dan’s hair. His hair is shorter than Grace’s, making it easier for them to share a bottle of shampoo; he just needs a small squeeze, and it’s enough to cover his whole head. Maybe Grace should do the same—but then again, he likes his hair to protect him from the breeze.

“That feels nice,” Dan says as he slumps back onto Grace's chest. Grace hums and rakes his nails gently over Dan’s hair, the bubbles spreading as Dan lets out a pleased sigh. For a moment, they are both quiet. Grace grabs the floating loofah at the side, rubbing soap onto it until it bubbles enough to start scrubbing Dan’s back, his nape, shoulders, and neck. “Good?” Grace murmurs, and Dan nods lazily, humming under his breath. “Really good,” Dan sighs. Eventually, Grace hands him the loofah, allowing Dan to scrub his lower half while Grace steps out of the tub. He’s already cleaned himself; he was just resting in the water. He’s usually a shower guy, but after his shower, he decided to fill the tub and simmer there, pretending he’s a carrot being boiled.

Grace dries himself with a towel and turns to watch Dan, who lowers his head under the water to wash the soap out of his hair, shaking his head like a dog when he resurfaces. Grace walks out of the bathroom, hopping on one foot as he dries his legs. “Should I heat up the alfredo?” Grace asks, sliding on his boxers and some shorts, picking up Dan’s wet clothes and tossing them into an empty hamper as he dries his hair, exiting the bathroom with a small hum.

“No need; it wasn’t that long after I finished cooking,” Dan replies from the bathroom.

“Alright,” Grace calls as he shuffles to their room, opening a few cabinets and grabbing some of Dan’s things: a shirt, pants—the soft ones that Dan loves to wear—and underwear.

“Hi,” Dan says from behind him, hair dripping and a towel around his waist. He slips his wet hands under Grace’s shirt and pinches his sides. “Dan!” Grace yelps, jumping as Dan grins at him wolfishly.

“You’re getting the floor wet, Dan,” Grace huffs, but Dan just rubs his wet face and hair against Grace’s neck, cheek, and forehead, holding on as Grace lets out a shrill laugh, trying to push him away. “You—son of a gun!” Grace curses, still laughing, his chest heaving as Dan leans back, grinning.

“You can’t say gun,” Dan points out, but Grace leans over to bite his shoulder. Dan yelps and pushes him away. “Ow! Hey! That’s cheating,” Dan whines.

“That’s what you get. Look, you’ve got my shirt wet,” Grace says, throwing him his clothes. Dan grins as he catches it on his chest.

Dan giggles as Grace passes him, huffing, though he has a small smile on his face. Dan quickly slips on his clothes and falls onto the bed as he tries to put on his underwear and pants in one go.

Grace got busy setting the table, placing two plates with forks on both sides and a glass of juice. He took the pan and opened the cover; it was still warm, thank goodness. He served some portions onto both plates just as he heard a few bangs from their shared room and Dan cursing about his toes before rushing out, hair mussed from his vigorous towel-drying. “Hope you like my special alfredo,” Dan commented as he sat down in the chair. Grace placed the pan back on the stove and followed Dan, sitting across from him. 

“When you cook, it’s always food that has pasta in it,” Grace remarked, to which Dan responded with a dismissive comment under his breath, a grin on his face as he leaned on the palm of his hand, elbow propped on the table. 

“No elbows on the table,” Grace said. 

“Yes, Mother,” Dan replied, lowering his arm as he watched Grace grab his fork. Twirling the pasta, Dan added, “This time I made the pasta, so you should at least be proud of me. That’s like—93% homemade.” Grace took a bite of the alfredo, humming at its creamy texture, which was much richer than the last alfredo Dan made, probably a few weeks ago. Grace admitted that he had been missing Dan's cooking, but with both of them busy, they had been relying more on Chinese takeout. 

Dan always came home tired—not that Grace wasn’t. But Dan often wore a look that made him seem almost sick from time to time, which worried Grace. Sometimes, Dan needed to let Grace take care of him just as Dan always took care of Grace. It felt a bit unfair that their care for each other tilted the scales at about 75–25. 

Granted, Dan and Grace had discussed their dynamics, somewhat childishly, like teens these days asking one another about their love languages. Dan mentioned that his own love languages were Acts of Service and Quality Time, while he liked receiving Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation—somehow aligning with Grace’s receipt of care. In a way, they were perfect for each other.

“I want to watch 50 First Dates,” Dan said as Grace placed their dirty plates in the sink—it was his turn to clean, the other having done it yesterday to keep things fair around the place. 

“You already watched that a few days ago. If I see Adam Sandler again, I’m going to vomit on your lap like a cat,” Grace replied as he wiped the table. However, Dan had already dashed to the living room, jumping onto the couch like an overactive child and switching the news to Netflix. 

Grace stifled a sigh, cupping one hand beneath the table to catch the stray pasta that had fallen as he wiped it off, pushing it down as he ran toward the cabinet where the trash was. He pulled it open, allowing the trash bag inside to reveal itself. Disposing of the sticky, wet pasta, he let out a disgusted groan.

Seriously, Grace was slowly debating buying a tablet mat just to avoid touching every piece of food Dan accidentally pushed out of his plate; it felt more like taking care of a child. As he moved to the side to wash his hands, something red caught his eye in the trash. A paper—wait, no—a tissue of some sort.

“What the…” Grace mumbled as he looked closer. The garbage bag was black, making it easy to spot the tissue stained with bright red. He grabbed a glove—usually meant for cleaning plates, but whatever—and slipped it on his hand, crouching down to reach for the tissue before pulling it out. 

It was blood. Grace looked at it, noticing the tissue was almost filled with it; it was as if someone had sustained an injury and pressed it against the tissue. Did Dan ever mention getting a scratch? Grace couldn't recall if Dan was bleeding when he was washing him in the tub; this looked brand new.

“Grace, quick!” Dan calls from the living room, whining as Grace drops it back inside, slides off the gloves, and throws them into the bin. He can just get the other glove and open a new package. He touches a bloodied tissue; no amount of washing can properly clean the gloves if he does that. Grace stands up, biting his lip as he leans on the side of the sink, feeling a strange sinking sensation in his chest that he can’t explain.

“Baby.” Dan knocks on the wall, and Grace startles, his knee hitting the cabinet as Dan flinches, surprised. “You okay?” Dan asks. Grace turns to him, slowly eyeing the dark marks underneath Dan’s eyes and his pale face—the feeling in Grace’s chest worsens.

“Grace?” Dan asks as Grace jumps again, closing the trash cabinet. “Yeah—just thought I saw a rat,” Grace replies, and Dan makes a fake puking sound at that. “Rats? Are you sure? Did you leave the back window open again? You know those assholes are good at climbing the pipes.” Dan asks, moving to check if the back window is securely closed while Grace turns toward the sink to wash the plates, feeling strangely cold as he hears Dan puttering around, humming, and opening and closing the back door to ensure it’s properly shut.

Later, both he and Dan are lying on their bed, lights off, the blinds partly open so the moonlight can enter and illuminate the room. They lay on their sides, facing each other, blowing warm breaths onto each other’s faces, and Grace can smell the minty toothpaste that Dan uses.

The room is dark—Grace can’t see properly without his glasses, but he can make out Dan’s eyes fluttering open and closed before finally staying open, as if he’s reluctant to close them for fear of waking up without Grace. For some reason, this thought makes Grace’s chest ache. “Dan,” Grace whispers as he moves closer, pulling Dan in. Dan hums. “Yeah?”

“You got something to tell me?” Grace asks softly.

Dan stills in Grace’s arms but shakes his head. “No… Why?” Dan murmurs as Grace stares into his eyes—his hand trailing from Dan’s waist to cup his cheek. Dan’s skin feels cold, and his stubble is uneven; some bits are a bit long, poking at Grace’s palm, while others are so short he can’t feel them. “Nothing…” Grace leans over to kiss Dan’s nose, and he hears him giggle, breathless.

Grace leans back, grinning.

“Grace,” Dan says, his giggle fading after a few moments. “Yeah?” Grace asks.

“You know I’m not really perfect, right?” Dan asks slowly Grace shrugs—sometimes they have these moments at night where Dan asks him strange questions or makes profound statements. Like whether Grace would still love him even if he made a mistake, to which Grace always replies that he would, and he’s never heard Dan breathe so hard at that. 

Then of course Grace can’t forget to mention; that it would be a big mistake to like mint chocolate or, worse, not to appreciate Meryl Streep.

So, yeah, Grace would definitely consider breaking up with him over those two irreconcilable issues—just kidding. Grace loves Dan, even if he eats mint chocolate or refuses to watch any Meryl Streep movies, claiming he gets jealous when Grace admits he finds Meryl Streep captivating, even at her old age.

But there are really these moments that Grace has dubbed 'philosophical night'—when Dan poses random deep questions that at first surprise Grace, but now he’s used to them. It’s endearing, and it provides Grace a glimpse into Dan’s mind. There’s a reason why almost all of their students adore Dan; he shows a remarkable capacity for understanding everyone.

“Nobody’s perfect, Dan,” Grace murmurs softly as he gently caresses Dan’s face. He swipes his thumb across Dan's lips, feeling how they curl up before turning down again, and smooths it lightly. “You’ll love me even then, right? Even if I make stupid mistakes?” Dan asks. Grace hums. 

“Not unless you tell me you like Meryl Streep.” He replies. Dan scoffs. “I am not watching The Devil Wears Prada, Grace,” he grumbles, wiggling on the bed as Grace giggles, grinning from ear to ear. “Kidding, kidding.” Grace presses close to Dan to place a kiss on his lips, shivering slightly from how cold he is. “You’re cold,” Grace murmurs. “I know,” Dan sighs, moving closer to Grace’s chest.

They both fall quiet. “Dan, turn around. I want to be the big spoon this time,” Grace murmurs. Dan easily turns, allowing Grace to pull him back to her chest as he makes himself comfortable. “Did you lose weight again?” Grace asks. 

“No,” Dan replies.

“You feel lighter than last time.” Grace paws at his stomach, eliciting a giggle as Dan squirms.

“You’re overreacting,” Dan sighs as Grace grumbles. “You never let me worry about you.” Grace sighs and kisses the back of Dan’s ear, causing him to shiver. “That’s pretty much my job. You’re a klutz anyway. How many times have you slipped and fallen off your bike in the first two months we dated? Or the fact that you refuse to move that cabinet by the bedroom door, even though you stub your toe on it at least multiple times a day?” Dan lists off.

“Baby, shut up. Go to sleep,” Grace says, placing a palm over Dan’s lips. He laughs as he buries his nose into his neck, peppering him with kisses while Dan squirms and wiggles. Dan laughs hard as Grace holds him down, covering his mouth. 

“Stop! Stop! I give!” Dan gasps, grabbing Grace as he pushes him away, breathing heavily. “Okay, time out—I can’t breathe,” Dan coughs. Grace moves back, surprised that it was that easy for Dan to lose his breath. “Hey, you okay?” Grace asks, rubbing Dan’s chest as he heaves and coughs. 

“Bad lungs,” Dan wheezes. Grace holds him, rubbing a hand over his chest slowly. Bad lungs? It’s been a year since Dan stopped smoking—Grace made sure of that. He’s always hated cigarettes because of the smell, and it’s nice that Dan listened to him and actually quit.

“Alright, no more tickling,” Grace says as Dan’s breathing finally calms down and he lays there, limp. “Now I'm tired,” Dan sighs.

“Better than sex,” Grace jokes.

Dan groans. “Ugh, shut up,” he whines as Grace giggles under his breath.

* * *

Grace remembers the time he and Dan talked about their exes. It was more about their process of learning about each other; they both wanted to know about each other's past relationships. It was actually quite nice that Dan was as open-minded as Grace. In fact, it was Grace who had asked the question about their exes, only to clam up afterward because it felt a little weird to dig up old wounds. But Dan didn’t seem to mind and was genuinely interested.

“You know, I like it,” Dan said, smiling over the table where a candle burned between them. It smelled like rosemary and vanilla. They were both at Dan’s apartment, sharing a bottle of cheap wine that neither of them seemed to care about. The Ikea table was covered in a scratchy red fabric that made Grace itch, but he couldn’t care less at the moment with Dan in front of him. Their shoes were touching underneath, which felt undeniably gay and childish, but Dan had started it, and now Grace had his Chucks resting over Dan’s black Vans. 

“You like what?” Grace asked, drinking from his wine glass and throwing his head back as Dan poured him more.

“That you’re a dreamer, your head in the clouds? I like that you know how to think deeply... I think... it’s beautiful.” Dan shrugged, smiling as Grace let out a scoff, unable to suppress a giggle. The wine may be cheap, but they were drinking it like it was soda, and Grace was pretty sure he had a flush on his face. 

“You say that, but you’ll regret it,” Grace pointed out, and Dan pouted, shaking his head. “Me? Regret it? Now you’re joking.” He pointed his wine glass at Grace, who snorted in response. 

“That’s what she said too, you know. She said I was attractive for being such a... dreamer. I could be someone, someone who matters,” Grace mumbled, looking down at his wine glass, slowly rolling it in his hand and letting the liquid slosh around.

“You matter,” Dan murmured, looking deep into Grace’s eyes with a small, adoring smile on his lips. “How so?” Grace asked, tilting his head down to meet Dan’s gaze. Dan's eyes were a light sky blue, much prettier than Grace’s darker, sometimes brownish eyes. 

“Hmm,” Dan hummed, leaning on the palm of his hand and smiling at Grace, his tongue darting out to lick his upper lip. Grace’s eyes traced the motion. “You’re amazing, you’re passionate... You’re you—you’re Ryland Grace. The most handsome, charming, very cool science teacher I’ve ever met,” Dan said, causing Grace to huff a laugh. 

“You know other science teachers?” he asked, grinning at Dan, who leaned closer. “Nope, just you—you and your pretty blonde hair and blue eyes, and your silly yellow raincoat and bike helmet that you strap on so tight it leaves a mark on your chin. Just you—” 

Dan didn’t even get the chance to finish because Grace couldn't stop himself from standing up, pulling Dan's tie, and kissing him hard on the lips as if Dan owed him air. 

“O–Oh,” Dan said, moving back slightly and laughing, his lips split from the force. Grace’s eyes widened. “Oh shit—” Grace cursed. 

“You said 'shit,'” Dan pointed out, swiping a finger across his bottom lip, seeing blood on his fingertip. Grace rushed around, trying to find tissues. He spotted some by the empty shelf; Dan’s apartment was mostly bare because he mentioned he hadn’t bothered bringing his things from his old place and wanted to buy new things—some kind of sign that good things would happen or something. Grace had never been superstitious and doubted that Dan was either.

“Fudge, I’m sorry—I couldn’t stop myself,” Grace mumbled, dabbing softly at Dan’s lip while holding his chin. Dan closed his eyes, smiling goofily, then opened them again to stare up at Grace with those eyes that made Grace want to kiss him hard again, to hold him down and take him right then and there. 

“Really? Was I really that kissable? Don’t be sorry, that means you regret kissing me.” Dan teased, causing Grace to huff, his face hotter than ever as he looked into Dan’s eyes. “You notice a lot of things about me,” Grace whispered. 

“You’re an interesting man, Ryland Grace. I told you many times I wanted you so badly the day I met you,” Dan murmured, smiling as Grace swiped a thumb over Dan’s lips. The bleeding had stopped, and Dan grinned at him toothily, like a wolf eyeing its prey. Grace felt like the prey... 

“You know your games. Tell me about your ex, and I’ll let you kiss me again—this time, no blood included,” Grace leaned closer to whisper, blowing air on Dan’s face. When Dan closed his eyes, expecting another kiss, he only opened them again to pout as Grace moved back to his seat, crumpling the tissue and balling it up, placing it in his pocket.

“Unfair, you’re an unfair man, Ryland Grace,” Dan sighs—and Grace loves the way Dan says his name. It makes him shiver, hot all over. “Come on. Tell me about your ex. At least your last ex. How many have you had?” Grace leans over the table as Dan grumbles. “Just two. The first one was kind of confusing; it was just high school things. We wanted to go along with the trend of having a partner. We didn’t even do anything,” Dan shrugs. “The second one?” Grace asks.

“Hm… Well—” Dan starts, grabbing his wine glass and pouring some more as he drinks.

“Bad, huh?” Grace asks. “Not really.” Dan sighs as he lowers his glass. “She’s a bit of a… jerk,” he adds, and Grace raises his brows. “Why’s that? She broke up with you? Broke your heart?” Grace leans closer, intrigued about what kind of woman would break up with Dan first. 

If Grace were that woman, he sure as hell wouldn’t let this man go—he’d tie him in a closet and keep him there, police and law be damned.

“She’s normal; we did normal things. We did break up; it was mutual. Her family didn’t like me, and I didn’t like them… I guess— it doesn’t matter.” Dan shrugs. “Hm. But she’s a jerk. You mentioned that.” Grace points out. 

“Yeah—she came back a few years later to tell me she was getting married.” Dan sighs, taking a few more sips from his wine glass as Grace lets out a breath. “Ouch,” Grace mumbles. “Ouch,” Dan nods. “One thing after our breakup, I said I didn’t want any more of her, no more reconnecting…” he adds.

“But she came… She wants to rub it all over your face?” Grace asks. “What a bitch.”

Dan laughs at that, leaning on his elbow as his body shakes. “It’s not—it’s not,” he laughs, gasping for air. “Are you sure? She’s more than just a jerk; that’s a bitch,” Grace says. “You’re saying bitch? Your students won’t like that,” Dan replies, but Grace just moves, standing up slowly. “Well, she doesn’t deserve you anyway,” Grace smiles as he moves over to Dan, offering a hand. Dan grins and grabs it as Grace pulls him up to his feet.

Eventually, it ended with them both half-naked—they didn’t really get to that point. They just kissed and touched each other, hands roaming over each other’s bodies, not really desperate; it was slow, all-consuming, and really hot. They weren’t in a rush, and neither of them wanted it to end. 

“You’re so pretty,” Dan whispers, both of them ending up lying on the living room floor. The wooden floor felt cold against their overheated bodies; they were naked, but just for the sake of having access to each other so they could search and touch one another.

“You think so?” Grace asks, his cheek resting on his palm as he lies on his side. Dan brought one light blanket along with them to cover their waists, keeping them decently covered in case they fell asleep, so they wouldn’t get sick from the cold. 

“Mhm… So pretty,” Dan whispers, fingers brushing over Grace’s cheek as Grace smiles. “So roooomantic,” Grace says as Dan moves closer, kissing his lips and gently licking his lower lip. Grace cups Dan’s cheek with his free hand and leans in to kiss him back, his hand burying in Dan’s hair—short as it is, it’s enough for Grace to tug and pull as Dan moans into his mouth.

“You like that?” Grace whispers—not before Dan leans back snorting, and then he bursts out laughing. “What?” Grace asks, blushing hard as Dan laughs and rolls onto his back.

“Are you trying to copy Fifty Shades of Grey or something?” he asks, and Grace groans, lying on his back as well. They both stare at the ceiling. “I just wanted to sound hot,” Grace groans, throwing his arm over his head and hiding in the crook of his elbow as Dan giggles.

“You’re cute,” Dan says.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Grace groans again.

Dan laughs.

.

.

.

“Mr. Grace?” Grace startles as he sits up from his chair—God, he’s daydreaming again. Worst of all, it’s about Dan. Not even his work! Damn, he’s so gone for this annoying man. He turns toward the door; it’s Julian, the door half-open as he peers inside. 

“What’s up, Julian?” Grace stands up and walks over to him, opening the door wider. “Uhm, Ms. Johnson said to call you. Mr. Dunne passed out in our class,” Julian says.

Grace feels his heart drop at that; the earth beanbag he’s holding falls to the floor as he rushes out, letting Julian lead the way. “What happened?” Grace asks. “It’s the last period, isn’t it? How did that—how—” He asks again, panting, unable to voice his question, his voice almost crazed as he runs his hand through his hair. 

Julian casts him a glance. Grace doesn’t remember anything wrong with Dan earlier; if anything, Grace looked worse, mostly because he hates morning classes. He’s getting older, and waking up at 6 in the morning can’t be good for him anymore.

Dan always wakes up first, peppering him with kisses until he finally stirs. It’s the same routine. 

“We don’t know, Mr. Grace. He was just standing one moment, talking—he was pale and slurring, but sometimes that happens because he speaks so fast. This time, though, it was different. He was really pale; it’s like he couldn’t hear us. Then suddenly, he was on the floor. It was so sudden, Mr. Grace. It was like he was a puppet and the strings were cut,” Julian stresses, hands clasped together. Grace squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue until he can taste the copper of blood.

When they arrive at the clinic, he sees Dan on the floor, vomiting so loudly and violently that it grates against Grace’s ears. Ms. Johnson is crouched beside him, rubbing his back. Dan’s dress shirt is completely drenched with sweat, his hair pressed down on his forehead. 

“Grace—Grace,” Dan sobs as Grace quickly kneels beside him, exchanging places with Ms. Johnson, who leads Julian out of the clinic. “Hey, baby—what’s wrong? What’s wrong, baby?” Grace whispers, running his hand through Dan’s hair, pushing it back as Dan sobs. Grace wipes Dan’s mouth as he falls into his chest, shaking and shivering. 

“I made a mistake—I made a mistake. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault; you’ll leave now,” Dan whispers, crying, his voice slurring as Grace holds him. His forehead is clammy and cold.

He’s sick—but he’s not. 

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, baby; you’re just sick. Come on, breathe, darling,” Grace murmurs as he rubs Dan’s back while he shakes his head against Grace’s chest. “Not sick—I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” Dan whines.

* * *

“I’m so sorry, so fuckin’ sorry,” Dan mumbles, his words slurring. He is shivering and shaking, his pupils dilated as he sits in the passenger seat. Grace is driving this time—it’s usually Dan who drives them both to school and home, but he’s sick—so sick that he’s shivering and whimpering, curling on his side. 

“It’s okay, Dan, it’s okay to be sick. Why didn’t you tell me?” Grace asks, white-knuckling the wheel as he glances at Dan, whose head leans against the window, breathing hard. His chest rises and falls so quickly that Grace is worried. He wants to bring Dan to the hospital, but Dan panics and says no hospital.

Grace wouldn’t go against Dan; he loves him too much.

Dan shivers, sweat pooling on his neck as Grace lets out a choked noise while watching Dan clutch the seatbelt strap, holding on as his chest heaves. Dan looks pale—not just because he’s sick, but as if he’s experiencing some kind of emotion Grace can’t read. His eyes are wide, blown out, and his lower lip trembles as he leans back, staring up at the ceiling, head moving side to side as if he’s seeing something else—and it’s scaring Grace.

It’s almost as if he’s drunk. Or something else.

Grace shakes his head; he and Dan left for school at the same time. He kissed Dan’s lips and tasted no alcohol. Even then, along with smoking cigarettes, Dan stopped drinking cheap alcohol, only indulging when they celebrated something or just wanted to get shit-faced on a holiday when neither of them had to wake up early the next day.

“Dan?” Grace reaches over to place his hand on Dan’s knee, but Dan flinches, letting out a breath as he looks over, his eyes flickering closed and open, shutting and opening as his breath hitches. His mouth trembles as he shakily presses a hand over Grace’s; it’s all sweaty and cold, and Grace wants to move his hand away, but Dan is holding on. 

“S-sorry, just… let me breathe. Sorry. Fuck,” Dan groans, his voice trembling as he holds Grace’s hand, both of them clenching and unclenching over Grace’s.

Grace falls silent, swallowing hard as he continues to drive. He knows he should bring Dan to the hospital, but Dan is already in enough pain, and he was scared when Grace offered the idea.

By the time they get home, Dan is stumbling. Grace can barely talk to him; it’s like he isn’t even there. Grace manages to get Dan into new clothes, throwing the sweaty ones into the hamper as he cleans him with a towel he’s soaked in lukewarm water. 

“Dan? Come on, baby. What’s wrong?” Grace murmurs, pushing Dan’s hair back as Dan curls on his side, mumbling nonsensical words. Sometimes he says sorry; sometimes he calls for Grace. But most of the time, he’s just breathing heavily.

Grace bites his lip as he folds the wet towel and looks down at Dan’s shaking form, his hand loosely holding onto Grace’s shirt. “Dan,” Grace whispers again, placing his hand over Dan’s head as he whimpers.

“Grace?” Dan whispers. Grace sits up straighter at that as Dan stirs a bit, rolling onto his back to look up at Grace with dazed eyes—almost like he’s just gotten drunk, but it's so different . It just doesn’t make any sense; Grace knows Dan didn’t drink at all.

“Dan—Dan, baby, how do you feel? You don’t feel too cold anymore,” Grace says, leaning over to place his hand on Dan’s neck, feeling warmth returning. It's a bit wet from the wiping Grace had done, but it was needed; Dan was all sweaty and uncomfortable anyway.  

“Mhm… dizzy—what happened?” Dan rolls onto his side again, burying his face against Grace’s waist as he lies there.

“I should be the one asking you that. You’ve gotten all sick; why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?” Grace asks, his brows furrowing as Dan doesn’t respond.

For a moment, Grace sits quietly, listening to Dan’s breathing. At some point, he assumes Dan has fallen asleep; he can't blame him; after all, he’s sick. 

“Grace?” Dan murmurs again, his voice tight with an emotion Grace can’t read.

“Yeah?” Grace replies.

“Hold me,” Dan sniffs. Grace lets out a breath. “Alright… alright, move over, darling. It’s okay; come here,” he hushes, and Dan sniffs again, his breath hitching as he closes his eyes. Grace lays down, pulling him close to his chest as Dan buries his face there, breath shaking.

* * *

“What’s all this for?” Grace laughs to himself, spotting three rolls of tissues in the cabinet, an alcohol spray, and an old medicine box that Grace had never seen before. It was Saturday, which meant deep cleaning around the apartment, leaving one of them sneezing from the dust and the other itching from the mess. 

The sneezy one was usually Dan, whose nose had always been much more sensitive than Grace's. However, Grace's skin was much more sensitive than Dan's, so he was left with red welts while moving Dan’s clothes from his wardrobe. 

After discovering a peculiar hole in the back, he propped it open and saw the space behind the wardrobe used as some kind of... tissue and alcohol storage, alongside a medicine box. It was strange—well, honestly, between the two of them, Grace was much weirder than Dan. 

Dan was just the most normal. Grace grabbed the medicine box, but it was pulled from his hands as he looked up to see Dan, all pale. 

“Hey,” Grace grinned as Dan tucked the medicine box under his arm. “What are you doing here? I thought I’d clean my own stuff,” Dan said. Grace scratched his arm, the redness turning into a welt. “Well, you were busy air-drying the couch, so I thought I’d take care of this for you,” Grace shrugged, standing up and stretching while Dan watched him with a small smile on his face. 

“Don’t worry too much; I can handle all of this. I have a lot of clothes and some junk around. You wouldn’t know how to organize it without me anyway,” Dan said, tossing the medicine box inside the wardrobe. Grace shrugged. 

“True,” he replied. “Anyway, I think I need some cooling gel; I’m all itchy, and it’s getting annoying.” Grace groaned as Dan laughed. 

It ended with Grace in the bathtub while Dan scrubbed his body lightly with some cooling soap. Grace let out a sigh of relief; it always felt better when Dan’s hands were on him. Touch-starved—that had always been on brand for Grace; he was a touch-starved bastard. 

“Is this okay?” Dan asked, now sitting behind him. Grace still had welts all over, but it wasn’t too itchy, and the cooling gel Dan had bought a month ago was a lifesaver in these situations. As always, he could depend on Dan when things came to a head. “Yeah, around the middle; it’s itchy. Can you scratch it a bit?” Grace asked as Dan hummed, raking his blunt nails over Grace’s back and maneuvering to the right spot. 

After a bit more scratching and some whining from Grace and at some point they both ended up doing other things than cleaning up the place—already distracted from the main objective, their landline telephone rang, causing both of them to freeze. But Dan was already lying on the bed, watching something on Grace’s iPad. He looked up at Grace, who was busy examining his own back in the mirror of their shared vanity. “Answer it?” Dan asked, pouting his pretty lips at Grace, who glared at him but did so anyway, walking out of the room as the landline continued to ring. 

“Hello, Ryland Grace speaking.” Grace picked it up, slotting it between his shoulder and ear. 

“Hello! Is this Dan’s friend? His roommate?” It was a woman, and Grace hummed, looking over the room and seeing Dan watching him, his brows raised, asking Grace with a look. “Uh, yes? Who is this?” Grace asked, noticing Dan sit up, looking worried and biting his lower lip. “Oh! Is he there? Tell him it’s Jo Dunne, his mother! I’m just checking in on how his life is in North California! It’s been so long since he spoke to us.” 

“Who is it?” Dan whispered from the door frame, leaning against it and peeking at Grace with those worried eyes. “Mom,” Grace mouthed. Dan’s mouth gaped, and he stood up straight, biting his nail. “Not here,” Dan mouthed back, causing Grace’s brows to furrow.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Dunne. Dan isn’t here right now; he’s very busy,” Grace says as he hears Jo let out a sad sigh—he almost feels bad; she sounds like a nice lady… Not unlike Grace’s mom. She’s always been a major screw-up in Grace’s life. Not that Grace cares anymore; he hasn’t been concerned since he was in middle school. 

“Is that so? My baby boy has always been so hardworking. Tell him to rest, okay?” she says. 

“Alright, Mrs. Dunne, I’ll tell him that,” Grace replies, lowering the landline back to its receiver and turning back to Dan, who is leaning heavily on the doorframe, eyes glazed over as if lost, staring into space. 

“What did she say?” Dan asks, looking at Grace a little pathetically. Grace shrugs. “She told me you’re very hardworking and asked me to tell you not to work too hard.” Dan nods at that, breathing heavily.

Dan never talks about his family—Grace does, in his own kind of messed-up way of trauma dumping—but it doesn’t even seem to phase Dan at all when Grace does that. 

Granted, Grace didn’t mean to; he was drunk, and his dad was messaging him, asking for money on Father’s Day at that. God—his mother is a screw-up, but his dad even more so. Grace is just glad that his grandparents took care of him, or else he would have gone to the deep end with either of his parents.

Dan seems to sympathize with him at that, though he did mention that he has a sibling, and his mom and dad aren’t divorced like Grace’s. He even mentioned that it was perfect, and that’s basically all Grace knows about them. 

He just kind of assumed that Dan has a nice family and came from a loving and understanding background; it makes sense given Dan’s personality. He’s been raised the right way.

But now… Grace is doubting all that perfect family junk he’s been thinking. 

Grace likes to believe that this might be the starting point where Dan began acting weird. Sometimes he’s skittish; he stays up at night, letting Grace sleep first while he watches television. 

Then, sometimes Grace wakes up to thumping from the living room and Dan coughing a bit, followed by him laying beside Grace, breathing heavily, eyes glazed—and Grace always assumed it was tiredness that made him look like that. 

He likes to believe it is.

.

.

.

A few weeks later, after Dan’s initial accident at school where he passed out, Grace found a strange fleck of powder on their glass coffee table. It was just a sliver, not even obvious. In fact, Grace thought it might have been dust—not until he sat down on the couch, waiting for Dan to finish in the bedroom. 

Dan was all giggly and touchy in the morning from time to time, and when he finally noticed the powder on the coffee table, he swiped a finger across it and sniffed it. It smelled like gasoline, prompting Grace to harshly sneeze as he pulled away from his finger, wiping it on his pants just as Dan came out of the room. Dan was trying to tie his tie around his neck, mumbling nonsensical words under his breath. His eyes looked a bit glazed over as Grace stood up.

"You alright?" Grace asked as he watched Dan give up on the tie, breathing heavily and pressing a palm over his eyes.

"Huh?" Dan mumbled, looking up. Grace then noted Dan's dilated pupils.

"Your tie… here, let me do it." Grace smiled at him, and Dan nodded, walking up to him as Grace pulled him closer with his loose tie. Dan grinned as Grace gently looped it around his neck. "Thank you," Dan sighed, leaning over to press a kiss on Grace’s cheek. Grace sniffed again.

"Did you leave the gas on?" Grace couldn't help but ask as Dan leaned back, dumbfounded. 

"What?" Dan asked. Grace rubbed his nose and shook his head.

"Nothing. I just saw powder on the table, and it smells a bit like gas, and you smell like gas," Grace explained. Dan's face didn’t change; he simply shrugged and looked around.

"Maybe your nose is acting up?" Dan suggested. "Or maybe you got me sick? You sly dog, you just want me all to yourself, huh?" Grace grinned and pressed a kiss on Dan’s cheek, causing Dan to smile.

"Who knows? You were a pretty good nurse. It’s sad I couldn’t be awake for your lap dance," he joked, and Grace snickered and laughed.

"Oh, shut up! I was genuinely worried for you," Grace rolled his eyes. "Come on, the day isn’t going to wait for us; we’ll be late." Dan did a mock salute, "Aye aye," he said, and Grace slapped a hand on his chest, grinning from ear to ear.

The day went on normally after that. Grace and Dan didn’t really see much of each other when they were at work—a surprise considering they managed to date at all. Grace supposed it was mostly due to Dan’s hard work that they were together now. Dan had such a man crush on him that he kept making moves even when their schedules didn’t align. 

It was nice.

At lunch, Grace mostly stayed in his classroom, knowing that Dan did the same. Before they started dating, Dan would visit his room to eat with him. After they became boyfriends, they stopped—mostly because it was kind of unethical for coworkers to date, and they might get fired (which they didn’t). However, they established some boundaries set by the school to avoid losing their jobs.

This meant little time together during work hours, which wasn’t bad since their schedules were different. Neither had any free time to visit the other. Lunch was off-limits since it was just too obvious. Well, it didn't stop the kids from knowing they were dating, and a few parents found out, getting a little weirded out by their relationship—typical homophobic stuff.

Honestly, the homophobes could fume all they wanted; Grace didn’t care.

"Hey, where’s Dan?" Grace peered inside the breakroom, seeing Martha and Keith sharing a cup of coffee, sitting on the couch and talking in hushed voices. Grace could only assume they were discussing the new school drama involving the cafeteria and the food that caused some students to get diarrhea. 

It had been a hard week for both Grace and Dan—neither of them could even stomach eating for a few days because a kid… well, let’s just say he lost all his control in Dan’s classroom of all places.

Dan had to take some extreme measures to clean it up with the help of some of the school’s janitors.

“Oh we ain’t sure, but we did see him eating in his classroom.” Martha says. “Yeah but I went there, he isn’t there.” Grace adds. “Hm, I did see him go the bathroom, must have been washing his hands,” Keith adds. Grace perks up at that. “Oh! Right, thank you Keith, gossip well you ladies.” Grace winks as the two snorts at him as Grace basically skipped down the hall—he spots the teacher’s bathroom.

He opens the bathroom door slowly. “Dan?” It’s empty, except for the small plip, plip, plip from the faucet. Grace enters, shutting the door clearly. “Dan?” he calls again. All the stalls are open, and he peers under them; there are no feet or familiar shoes of Dan. “Hm,” Grace sighs, humming. Dan might be back in his room. 

Grace turns to leave, opening the door.

Then he hears a sniff and a shaky breath—Grace stops. He walks back and slowly opens each door on each stall. They are all empty—then he eyes the janitor's stall where the mops and all the cleaning supplies are usually kept. He opens it.

“Dan?” Grace whispers as he looks down at Dan’s shaking curled form. He’s leaning back, eyes wide, lower lip trembling, his eyes bloodshot and his skin clammy from cold sweat, hair wetly pressed against his forehead. “Grace,” Dan whimpers, and Grace kneels down.

Then he notices it—some kind of cigarette, not really a cigarette, but more like a glass cigarette–or a glass vial. Dan watches him look, his eyes trembling as he lets out a shaky breath. 

“I can explain,” he says, trembling, as Grace eyes the lighter in Dan’s other hand. He slowly takes both the glass cigarette and the lighter from Dan’s hands. They are warm—almost hot. Grace can see a few burns on Dan’s hands—he has been getting those lately, but Grace never thought it was because of…

Dan watches him, letting out a shaky breath, almost a sob. “Grace—I…” he stammers. Grace paused as he sniffs—it’s the smell of chemicals and gasoline. 

Grace isn’t stupid; he met many kinds of people when he was younger. He lived in the poorer part of San Francisco and saw 13-year-olds getting high on weed, 17-year-olds getting high on cocaine and meth, and getting themselves killed. “Are you high?” Grace whispers as he eyes Dan, who leans back, chin jutted up, and his eyes slowly closing.

“Fuck,” Dan whispers, shaking as he presses the back of his hand over his eyes.

* * *

“So… Why are you here of all places? Why leave Brooklyn?” Grace asks, both of them lying on top of Dan’s car, a soft blanket spread over the hood as they stare up at the stars above them.

“What kind of question is that? We’re not 15,” Dan replies, but Grace pokes his side, making him yelp with laughter. “Kidding!” he adds, and Grace grins.

“Why are you even asking that?” Dan raised a brow. “You could ask me a million things. Like,” he smiles, grinning, “How good are you in bed? Can I make you scream? Are you good with your mouth—” Grace gives him a playful slap on the shoulder, causing Dan to burst out laughing again, curling onto his side as Grace groans.

“Take me seriously! You said we could ask each other anything to get to know each other more,” he whines.

“Fine, fine,” Dan says, wiping his face but still smiling. 

He doesn’t respond, which annoys Grace a little. “Dan, answer the question. Don’t forget you asked me why San Francisco when I told you explicitly that I grew up here,” Grace says. 

“That was a question meant to ask ‘why stay here?’” Dan argues, grinning madly, but Grace just waves him off. 

“So? Why San Francisco? It’s really far away from Brooklyn,” Grace presses again.

Dan sighs, letting his head fall back. “Do I really have to answer that?” he asks, pouting.

“Yes. That’s the general rule for our game. You made it, you deal with it,” Grace replies.

“Ugh. Can’t believe this,” Dan whines, sighing.

“So?” Grace prompts.

“So…” Dan begins, laying on his side as Grace copies him. “Tell me,” he insists again as Dan stares at his face.

“You’re beautiful,” Dan says, but Grace places a hand over his face. “Not going to work; answer the question,” she insists. “Not fair,” Dan says, pushing his hand down as Grace grins at him. 

“I’m serious, Dan. I swear, I want to know more about you. If it weren’t for this game, I’d jump your bones right now,” Grace admits, and Dan snorts at that.

“Jump your bones, you old man! You’re using old man words!” Dan exclaims as Grace blushes.

“It’s a figure of speech!” Grace shoots back indignantly, and Dan just laughs.

They continue to bicker until, eventually, it leads to both of them with bruised lips after kissing for half an hour, their hair standing up on all sides. 

Now they’re back to lying on their backs, Dan’s hands resting behind his head while Grace has his on his stomach. “So? Why here?” Grace asks, not sparing Dan a glance.

Dan is quiet, not responding right away. “I guess because I’m trying to get away from Brooklyn?” he whispers.

“What? Why?” Grace asks, tilting his head this time to look at Dan’s profile, seeing his eyes still fixed on the sky. 

“Well,” Dan shrugs, “I don’t know… I feel like I didn’t fulfill my life back in Brooklyn. I made too many mistakes, too many stories—too much of my past. I want to start anew, like… like a new canvas, you know?” Dan finally turns to him, smiling, but it looks painful.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Grace murmurs softly.

Dan swallows. “Yeah, but… mine is worse—it’s bad. It’s the worst…” he breathes out.

“It can’t be worse than me ordering that pussy shot from that stupid bar you took me to,” Grace grins, causing Dan to laugh. 

“It’s pousse shot, not pussy shot,” Dan corrects him.

“It squirted on my face!” Grace retorts.

Dan laughs again, bright this time. Grace feels a little better, noticing how easy it is to make Dan laugh. He’s always been a smiley guy.

“That’s the whole point of the shot; it shoots out, that’s why it’s called pousse,” Dan giggles. “It’s French for shooting out or sprouting out. The bar owner’s french.”

“Yeah, okay, pussy shot,” Grace says, and Dan laughs again until he loses his breath, and they fall back into silence. 

“So what did you do?” Grace asks. “Killed somebody? You know, I’ve always liked my men bloody,” he winks at Dan, who laughs again. 

“Oh god,” Dan says, wiping away a tear.

“God can’t save you now. You just found out my kink—kidding,” Grace jokes, and Dan giggles again. “So did you really kill someone?” Grace asks again.

“God, no,” Dan shakes his head. “That would be like—I would be running from prison then. If I said yes, you’d be my accomplice,” Dan says.

“I don’t mind,” Grace shrugs. “That’s a new level of dedication. Is it because I have such a handsome and nice face?” Dan makes kissy faces, which Grace pushes away.

“It’s more than that, but I’m not going to tell you. Answer my question first,” Grace insists.

Dan just grins, shrugging again. “Worse than murder,” he says.

Grace tilts his head at that. “What’s worse than murder?” he asks.

Dan smiles softly at him, turning to lay on his side, a small, pained smile on his face. “I don’t know if I can tell you, Grace. You’ll see me differently.”

Grace looks into his eyes. “Never.”

Dan blinks slowly at him.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Dan sobs in the passenger seat, hands covering his face as Grace drives, her grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled and tense. “So you’ve been high all this time? All those… getting sick? Getting all giggly and touchy with me… You’ve been getting high all this time?” Grace asks, unable to hide his anger—because he is furious! His boyfriend has been getting high on cocaine—but that’s not the worst part; it’s the fact that it’s a special kind of cocaine that you can smoke. 

The effects are much stronger and faster, which also means the negative side effects are worse than just snorting crack.

“I wasn’t—You won’t understand,” Dan says shakily, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Oh, I understand enough, Dan. Is this why our savings have been dwindling for the past few months? All this time, I thought it might have been a miscalculation; I never thought it would be you!” Grace asks harshly. It was one of the issues that had come up as well: their savings had been taking a hit, and Grace knows it’s a shared account, with both their salaries contributing. It was their savings for a vacation, a much-needed getaway together, perhaps to Hawaii—it wasn’t planned yet, but the idea was there, and the money too. 

And Grace had no reason to suspect anything was wrong because he trusted Dan.

But lately, he noticed that the account wasn’t moving—or that some money had been taken. All this time, Grace believed it might have been his miscalculation since he was the one managing the finances, not Dan, and he was the one good with calculations after all. But by the looks of it, Dan was responsible for all of it.

“Then make me understand! You’re getting high! You told me you only smoke and drink alcohol, not—not get high on crack!” Grace yells, turning to Dan, who is shaking, swallowing hard, his face pale, eyes glazed and sunken. 

For a moment, Grace feels guilty for screaming at someone who is undoubtedly experiencing one of the worst times of his life and is likely on a very bad trip. Dan is clutching his arm, his blunt nails digging into his skin as he breathes hard.

“I—I can explain… I was clean, I was clean for a very long time. I’m sorry—I relapsed… It was supposed to be… just one time, but then it felt good,” Dan stammers, pressing a hand to his forehead as he bends over, shaking. Suddenly, he slaps the door again and again. 

“Grace. I’m gonna vomit,” he says, and Grace slams the brakes, watching Dan rush out of the car and vomit on the side of the road, trembling.

Grace sits there, fuming—his blood is boiling, and his eyes feel hot and heavy. He knows he’s one step away from crying and sobbing all over the dashboard of Dan’s car. But it’s no use if both of them are useless. He’s the older one between the two; the best he can do is be the mature one.

“Sorry.” Dan returns, hitting his head on the roof of the car as he opens the door. “Ow.” He whimpers but collapses back into the seat, curling up and weakly shutting the door. “Can we go home?” Dan whispers, and Grace puts the handbrake down and continues driving, this time in silence.

When they get home, Dan is back to his high state again. Grace has to basically pull him by his arms as he helps him up the stairs to their apartment, dropping him on their bed. Grace stands over Dan, breathing hard as Dan curls on his side, shaking and mumbling under his breath with words Grace can’t comprehend.

He’s in a different world right now. And all Grace can do is wait until Dan becomes lucid enough for them to talk. Grace heads to the kitchen to get himself some water before sitting down and crying.

* * *

“Grace.” Dan mumbles, leaning heavily against the wall, his eyes still half-lidded, but at least he seems a bit more lucid. Grace sits up straight, seeing the bottle of beer in Dan's hand as he looks over at him. Slowly, he walks up and sits in front of Grace, studying him; Dan is pale all over. “I’m sorry,” Dan whispers.

“When did this start?” Grace asks. Dan swallows and runs his hand through his hair. “I was clean before I met you and had been clean until recently,” he whispers. “So you used to do it back then too?” Grace asks. Dan nods shakily, his eyes filled with fear. “My ex and I used to do it together,” he whispers. “She taught me how to use it.”

Grace covers his mouth with his palm, trying to process Dan’s words. “Okay,” he whispers. 

“We can still fix this.” He looks at Dan, who watches him and nods shakily. “I can stop. I can stop—I promise... It’s just… I’ve been so stressed—” he starts. Grace's anger boils—not because of Dan, never Dan—but mostly due to himself for letting this happen, for allowing Dan to deteriorate. How could he not have noticed?

“No—we’re getting you to rehab, Dan. What you need is rehab,” Grace corrects him as Dan lets out a shaky breath. “No rehab, Grace. Please. Please. No rehab,” Dan whimpers, shaking as Grace presses a hand to his own forehead, heart clenching as he watches Dan curl up, his breaths shaky as he wipes a hand over his face. 

“What do you mean, no rehab? Rehab is the only thing that can help you now. I can’t help you go cold turkey; it’ll get worse because I’m not suited for it. There are people who can help you, Dan,” Grace says urgently. “No! Rehab made it worse! It didn’t work out for me, Grace.” Dan cries out. “Rehab made it worse—please—no rehab. I only need you, Grace. Just you, please, please? Please, Grace.” He stands up and almost falls over as Grace catches him, and Dan hugs him, rubbing his face against Grace’s shoulder.

“Dan—Dan.” Grace lets out a shaky breath as Dan clings to him tightly. “Just you—I only need you, Grace. You’ll give me the strength to stop. I stopped before, but then—then they found out and threw me into rehab—I can’t do it now, Grace.” Dan sobs, shaking all over as they both end up on the ground, with Grace cradling Dan, who curls his body over Grace’s chest, as if trying to hide inside.

Dan sobs—not the quiet ones—this one is hysterical, shaking, sniffing, and gagging as Grace holds him through it. “Okay... okay—no rehab—no rehab... But this also means you can’t keep working, Dan. You’ve been going to work high,” Grace whispers. “Sorry—I’m sorry. It’s just... I’m so tired always, Grace. I’m so tired. They’re all bothering me.” Dan sighs, holding onto him.

“Who is?” Grace asks, but Dan doesn’t respond, already having fallen asleep.

Grace sighs, feeling a few tears slip from his eyes as he holds Dan, burying his face in his hair while Dan curls closer, breathing shakily, deep in sleep. Later, he finds himself carrying Dan—God, he’s carrying Dan. 

He’s gotten so light—when did this happen? How could Grace have not noticed it before? Dan is so light that Grace can carry him easily now; how could he let this happen? Dan cared so much for Grace, but Grace can’t even give that care back.

He helps Dan out of his clothes, changing him into softer ones as he lays him on his side, watching Dan sleep, noting how his breath would hitch or how he would always mumble Grace’s name. 

“Sorry... I’m so sorry. So sorry... I’m such a bad—” Dan whimpers, mumbling under his breath as Grace pulls him into his chest and holds him tightly. “I’ll find a way,” Grace whispers a promise into Dan’s hair, and Dan stops whimpering and shaking.

.

.

.

Grace decides to take a year-long break from teaching—it's an indefinite leave, but he’ll eventually go back. It was an easy decision for him, really. He didn’t explain the reasons why, but he noted that he needs peace of mind, and that both he and Dan are taking a break from teaching. 

One thing about cocaine is that to stop, you have to go cold turkey. Grace has done enough research and called a few doctor friends to decide that he can do this.

Dan has mentioned that he’s detoxed on his own before, without any help from rehab. He has gone through months of pain, anxiety, and depression without anyone's assistance. But this time, Grace is here. He wants to help, and he doesn’t want to give up on Dan. It is painful to watch Dan suffer. 

Detoxing is a difficult process, especially for Dan, who has been taking a high dose. Worse, the cocaine has been upgraded to a different brand and form, which is much stronger than normal crack.

This is why Grace mostly spends his time beside Dan, holding him, bathing him, and feeding him. But these days, Dan can barely move, let alone eat, and Grace has to force him to eat multiple times. 

“Where does it hurt?” Grace asks as Dan points at his shoulder. Another problem is body pain; it’s probably all in his head because he’s cold turkeying from cocaine. But he’s always in pain, his body constantly aching, so Grace has taken it upon himself to massage every sore spot.

He is also always making sure Dan stays cool, mostly because his body is overheating, and he’s getting chills, as if he has a fever. It is horrible.

“I’m gonna vomit,” Dan mumbles on Grace’s shoulder, the older man holding him through the pain. Probably one of the things that helps Dan greatly is having another body to hold him. And sweaty or not, Grace is holding him. 

“Okay. Okay… come here, baby, it’s okay. Come on, let it out,” Grace whispers as he lets Dan bend his head over the bin, his body trembling all over, goosebumps appearing on his skin, gagging and vomiting water, bile, and a few pieces of corn from the corn soup Grace made for him.

“Fine now,” Dan squeaks, eyes half-lidded as Grace places the bin down—still filled with water, bile, and some food. Nothing too bad. “Good?” Grace asks as he rubs Dan’s back, who nods, leaning on his shoulder as Grace helps him lay back down. “I’m fine… I’m fine,” Dan mumbles, a bit deliriously, as Grace runs his hand over his hair. “Water?” Dan asks. “Thirsty.”

Grace gets out of bed to get a glass of cold water and returns just in time to see Dan vomiting again into the bin. Grace sighs, standing by the door, watching him shake and sob, eyes glassy. 

He helps Dan again, this time to bathe him, especially since he got some vomit on his shirt, and Grace knows well that Dan would get prissy and annoyed if he’s covered in it. But his Dan isn’t back yet; he’s still sick, stuck in the limbo of the side effects of going cold turkey.

“How long has it been?” Dan asks, slurring a bit as Grace washes his hair.

“A week,” Grace says after a pause, and he can hear Dan let out a noise, almost a sob.

“It’ll be okay,” Grace says again. “No—I need… I need at least a bit—I feel so sick, Grace. I feel so sick.” Dan whines, panting as Grace pays him no mind. This was normal—the first time Dan did this, Grace almost broke down and called Dr. Jones to ask if he could just wean Dan off the cocaine. But he was advised against it because if he did, it would only fuel Dan’s thirst for cocaine.

“I feel so sick—I’m so sick,” Dan whines, but Grace doesn’t respond, biting his lips as he hears Dan cry, sobbing and curling over himself with his knees pulled up to his chest. “It hurts so much… It’s always so loud—so loud,” Dan whispers again as Grace dries him with a towel, Dan’s body leaning heavily on him. “What is?” Grace asks. 

“Mom… Dad… I’ve never been a useful son to them… Never enough,” Dan mumbles as Grace pauses, staring into Dan’s sad, glazed eyes. Then Dan starts sobbing, “I wish I wasn’t their son at all,” he sniffles. “It’s so stupid… I’m so useless,” he adds.

* * *

Grace watches as Dan leans against the wall, the landline telephone pressed to his ear. He grips it so tightly that Grace is almost scared he’ll snap it in half—sometimes his breath would shake. But somehow, the other person on the line doesn’t notice. “Yeah—Yeah, I… I’m fine now… No need to worry,” Dan says, his shoulders hunched and his face pale. 

Grace wonders whom he’s talking to. Every time the landline rings, Dan is always the one to answer it, and he always looks tired and terrified afterward. He sometimes sits in silence or just stares off into space until Grace decides to talk to him and asks what it’s all about, and who it is. 

As always, Dan would say it was just a friend or something. Grace should have known that Dan has problems with his family. Where could it have started, anyway? Dan is a good man, a bright and smart man; he wouldn’t do anything to ruin his life without a reason.

Dan is a man who feels everything but refuses to show it. Grace knows this well; he’s seen how much of an empath Dan is. Kids like him because of that, and parents get along with him because he knows how to understand them. 

He’s a good man—a really good man. 

But his own enemy is himself. And Grace wishes Dan knew that he loves loving others more than he loves himself. There’s always been a small nagging feeling inside Grace that Dan has self-esteem issues—you could tell him he’s doing a pretty terrible job without further proof, and he’d believe you easily. It’s one of Dan’s biggest faults. It’s as if he’s a fire that’s easy to snuff out; you don’t even need to blow hard to extinguish him.

And Grace feels like that’s the scariest part about him. It’s like Icarus with his wax wings; his passion for his interests causes him to fall. It was morning when Grace woke up without Dan beside him. 

At first, he didn’t notice Dan was gone. Half asleep, he turned around, noticing the cold space beside him and the absence of his boyfriend. It wasn’t until he heard a thump that he fully roused, terrified as he rushed out of the room. “Dan? Dan!” Grace called, stopping when he saw Dan in the kitchen, frying an egg.

He doesn’t look sick anymore; he’s… okay? 

“Dan?” Grace called again, uncertainty creeping into his voice as he stopped behind Dan, who turned to him. “Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” Dan asked. 

“You’re…” Grace trailed off. Just last night, Dan had been waking up to vomit, and Grace hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep because he refused to let Dan go through it alone. Dan had been sweating and shaking. Now… he seems fine.

Dan grinned at him. “I’m okay. See?” He opened his arms as Grace walked over, still unsure. He placed a hand on Dan’s cheek; it was cold. “Are you high?” Grace whispered, looking into Dan’s eyes—the pupils were dilated, and he felt his heart drop. Dan lowered his arms, staring back at Grace. 

“Dan,” Grace started again, his voice dropping low. “Are you fucking high right now?” he whispered, locking eyes with Dan, who averted his gaze. 

“It was just a little bit,” Dan swallowed. Grace lowered his hand, clenching and unclenching it as he let out a breath. Okay—it’s just a bit. Dan didn’t look high; by the looks of it, he had just taken something to ease the edge off and not enough to actually be high. Probably just enough to stave off cravings. “Okay…” Grace whispered, “Dan—” he started, but Dan’s face twisted as he looked down. 

“It was just a bit, Grace. I’m not even fucking high right now! I swear. It just staved off the pain.” Dan gasped, swallowing hard as Grace grabbed his wrist, turning off the stove—God, he’s cooking while high… Grace was afraid to think how many times that had happened; it was amazing their apartment hadn’t burned down yet.

He sat Dan down in the living room and shivered when he smelled rubbing alcohol and noticed the well-cleaned coffee table. It was obvious Dan had cleaned the area there. “Dan—Dan, we’re trying to get you off cocaine. You can’t do this,” Grace said, crouching in front of Dan, whose gaze was averted as he stared at his lap, refusing to look at Grace. 

“I—I can’t. It’s painful… I–It  just hurts,” Dan stammered. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep—”

“And that means it’s working! It’s just in your head, Dan. It’s just in your head; your body is just getting used to the drugs! It won’t be until two weeks until you feel better, I swear.” Grace grabbed his hands, rubbing them as Dan breathed hard, his mouth forming a shaky frown, his lower lip trembling as if he was about to cry.

“I’m sorry, Grace. God—I’m so fucking sorry,” Dan sobs as Grace gently pulls his hands away, wiping the tears from Dan's face. “It’s okay, baby, I’m here. I want to help,” Grace murmurs as Dan's breath hitches and he allows Grace to wipe his tears away. 

“I’m a burden, Grace. You’re wasting your time on me. They were right—they were all right,” Dan sniffles as Grace remains quiet. “I’m so messed up; I’m so messed up, Grace,” Dan continues as Grace runs his hand over Dan’s hair, scratching it gently while shifting to sit beside him.

Dan doesn’t waste any time leaning against him, grabbing onto his arm as Grace wraps his arm around him, pulling him to his chest. Dan mutters apologies under his breath, clinging tightly to him as he shakes.

.

.

.

“So, do you have anything I might be worried about?” Grace asks as they walk down the aisle. Dan is pushing the cart beside him, humming along to the music on the speakers; it’s Britney Spears—of course, Dan would love Britney Spears. Who doesn’t love the queen of pop? 

“Like what?” Dan asks, watching Grace look at bleach bottles and their prices. 

“Like… drinking problems… smoking—I can’t deal with smoking, bad lungs. I’ve had enough of people smoking around me,” Grace replies, glancing over at Dan, who is leaning on the handlebar of the cart, smiling dopily at him.

“I drink and smoke, but I can stop for you,” Dan says, grinning from ear to ear like a high school girl drunk off love, which makes Grace furrow his brows. He laughs. “Really now?” he asks. 

“Mhm.” Dan nods. 

“Hmm. I guess it should have been obvious that you drink and smoke,” Grace adds as Dan laughs. “Is it because of my scruffy, handsome looks?” Dan tilts his head while Grace moves again, dropping the cheaper bleach bottle in the cart. Dan picks it up and positions it so it stands upright and doesn’t roll around. 

“Sure. Dunno. Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Grace quips. 

“I could sleep better when I’m with you,” Dan adds. Grace lets out a laugh, turning to him with shaking shoulders while he stifles his laugh behind his fist. 

“What?” Dan grins, looking too proud of himself. 

“That’s so stupid—you’re so stupid,” Grace says. Somehow, though, he can’t wipe off the grin on his face. 

“But you’re laughing and smiling. Admit it, you like me now,” Dan says. 

Grace’s grin doesn’t slip away as he rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he replies and walks away, Dan following after him. 

“So what about you?” Dan asks. “Do you have problems with drinking?” 

“Hm…” Grace begins. “Well… not really—but when I was younger, I had these bouts of wanting to act like a rebel. You know, typical teenager stuff. I would meet up with some seniors, and they’d let me drink vodka and other alcohol.” Grace shrugs. Dan stays quiet at that. “It didn’t take long for my grandmama to find out anyway; she locked me up in the house and all. I actually appreciate that she did that. If she hadn’t, I would have thought it was cool to go to school always drunk,” Grace admits with a shrug. 

“I love grandmama,” Dan nods, and Grace grins. “I was a pretty shitty kid, much shittier when I was younger too. Time has changed me, so don’t go wishing you had met me earlier. Besides, I would have been marked as a pedo if that were the case,” Grace says, causing Dan to laugh. 

“Come on, Grace. In any form or age, I think I would have liked you either way,” Dan purrs, and Grace snorts at that. “And what about you? Why did you start smoking and drinking anyway?” Grace asks.

Dan just smiles, shrugging. “I dunno; the smoking is usually just to get… a bit of relief. The drinking part—well, I do it to unwind after a long day,” he admits. 

“So, every day?” Grace asks. 

Dan nods. “Just half a glass, nothing too crazy. Sometimes my head gets too loud, and I need something to muffle it. Half a glass of whiskey is enough,” he says softly. Grace falls quiet, picking up a ketchup bottle and placing it inside the cart. 

“Got sleeping problems?” Grace asks, and Dan shrugs wordlessly. He looks into Dan’s eyes. 

“Mhm.” Dan eventually nods. “Can’t sleep sometimes. Too much going on.” He taps his temple, and Grace leans on the side of the cart, observing Dan’s eyes, face, hair, and lips. He smiles.

“You know, there are a lot of studies showing that having someone sleep with you improves your sleep… Do you think it’ll get better if I’m with you tonight?” Grace asks, tilting his head down and lowering his voice as Dan’s brows shoot up. 

“You asking me to warm your bed?” Dan jokes. 

Grace smirks, now tilting his head to the side. “Think you can do that?” he challenges. 

“If you can silence the loudness in my head, I’ll give you more than that,” Dan replies, and Grace grins at him, a bit wolfishly, as he reaches over to trail a finger along Dan’s neck—his polo shirt always too loose, buttons left open. He does have a shirt underneath, but it just shows more skin to Grace. 

And Grace has a feeling it’s on purpose. 

“Let’s see about that,” Grace says as Dan grins.

* * *

“You won’t leave me, right?” Dan whispers, both of them lying on the floor with the coffee table moved aside so they can relax on the cold tiled surface. Dan’s skin looks clammy—he’s coming down from his high at the moment, and Grace knows this well because of the tremors and shaking, the fast breathing as they lie there. “I won’t,” Grace murmurs, reaching over to brush his finger across Dan’s cheek. Dan’s eyes flutter closed, his lashes wet from tears. “Why?” Dan asks again. 

“I’m such… a fuck-up—I’m a druggie… I’m here to just… mess up your life; you had to leave just because of me,” Dan whispers, shaking as Grace cups his cheek. 

“Because I want to take care of you,” Grace murmurs. 

“Why? No one wanted to do that before; it was always just me,” Dan whispers. Grace shifts, taking Dan’s arm and pulling him close, flush against his chest as he buries his nose in Dan’s hair—still a bit damp from the warm bath that Grace hoped would warm Dan’s skin, but nothing has changed; it’s really the effects of the drugs leaving his system. 

“Well, I’m here now. You aren’t doing this alone, okay?” Grace whispers as Dan shakes a little from his words, holding onto the front of Grace’s shirt tightly, as if he’s scared Grace would take those words back and run away. 

Both of them fall silent, save for Dan’s breaths hitching and stopping a few times. 

“Sometimes, when you see something imperfect, you can’t help but move away from it so it doesn’t stain you with its imperfection,” Dan whispers. 

“Well then, we’re both imperfect,” Grace replies, hearing Dan snort softly. 

“Why didn’t you go to rehab back then, Dan? Who helped you?” Grace murmurs, feeling Dan’s hand clench hard on his shirt before it loosens. 

“No one—I…” Dan starts, swallowing hard, shaking. “There was this kid—my student. I got high at school; she found me.” He sighs as Grace hums in response. 

“What happened?” Grace asks. 

“I think at some point, she was curious about the drug… She got involved in some shady stuff. I tried my best to steer her away—but I just… It’s just weird for a teacher to be close to a student… I don’t know—I just don’t want her to be like me. Like this… a failure, stupid, useless. She’s smart. Very smart, she has a future in her.” Dan whispers, as Grace runs his fingertips over Dan’s back, slipping his hand underneath his shirt as Dan shivers, blowing hot air over Grace’s neck. 

“You’re not… you’re not a failure, Dan. By the looks of it, you helped her anyway,” Grace murmurs. “What else? Tell me.” 

Dan shivers again as he buries his face in Grace’s neck. “I almost died,” he whispers, and Grace feels his blood run cold. “I felt so lost, got so high and drunk… I almost killed myself. God—I’m so sorry, Grace… I’m so sorry; I’m such a fuck-up.” His voice shakes as he sobs hard and loud, burying his face fully in Grace’s neck. Grace pulls him closer, holding him tight and trying to ignore the heat behind his eyes as he shushes him. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” Grace whispers.

“No, it’s not okay, Grace! I’m sick! I’m sick in the head, and now I’m making you go through this when you could just leave me,” Dan says, pulling back and sniffing as he glares at Grace weakly. Grace grabs his face, holding him tight. “You don’t get to decide that for me, Dan. I want to stay; you can’t make me leave, okay? You stayed when I had bad days, so why can’t I stay with you during yours?” Grace asks.

Dan sniffles, shaking his head. “This is different… This is different. I can’t make you do this, Grace. I just can’t,” he whispers, but Grace just caresses his face. “Doesn’t matter. The moment you started bothering me because you thought I was pretty was the day you should have realized you can’t get away from me,” Grace says, his voice firm as Dan looks into his eyes, lashes wet and eyes bloodshot from all the crying. “I’m not leaving you, Dan. I’m not. I swear to God,” Grace adds. “You’ll get better.”

Dan nods, biting his lip as Grace pulls him close and hugs him, both of them just breathing hard as they lay there. For a while, they just lay there.

“What do you feel about a change of scenery?” Grace murmurs. “We could stay at Grand-mama’s house. I’m sure she’ll love to have us there,” he adds.

“She’s still alive?” Dan asks tiredly.

“When did I say she wasn’t?” Grace leans back to look into Dan’s face, and Dan just shrugs. “I assumed she must have passed; I mean…” he says.

“She’s not—she’s a hard-ass at that. She’s not dying until she reaches 120 years old!” Grace grins. “So?”

“I’m—” Dan’s face pales. “Grand-mama’s dad used to be an alcoholic, a really bad one,” Grace says. “She knows a lot about people trying to quit cold turkey. She’s seen a lot of alcoholics and druggies in her lifetime. Trust me, she doesn’t care that you’re one,” Grace runs his hand through Dan’s hair.

Dan seems to think about it, biting his lower lip, not until Grace pries his teeth off with his thumb, smoothing down the broken skin on his lip, the blood cleaned off as Dan leans on him, sighing. “Okay,” he whispers.

Grace smiles. “Okay—we can stay in my room,” he says.

Dan forces a tired smile. “Okay.”

“I’m here, Dan. I’m here. You got me,” Grace whispers, and it isn’t long until Dan is crying again, whispering ‘thank you’s’ under his breath.

.

.

.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” Grace mutters as he watches Dan bend over a piece of paper, colored pencils, and a mug of dirty water full of cheap paintbrushes. “I don’t,” Dan replies, but Grace thumps through a few pages adorned with drawings of crocodiles, dogs, and foxes—they look amazing, all made by Dan, who is now drawing another fox skittering across some forest land as Grace leans on the palm of his hand, watching him.

“You like foxes?” Grace asks. “You’re a fox.” Dan curls his nose at him, grinning as he pops his gum, and Grace grins back. “I’m a fox now? When am I cunning?” Grace asks, and Dan grins wider. 

“What does the fox say?” Dan says. “Holy fudging fudger,” he repeats, trying to mimic Grace, who groans and leans back, slamming his hands on the coffee table while Dan laughs.

“I can’t curse in front of kids, okay?!” Grace argues, embarrassed, as Dan grins at him. “Okay—but when you do, it’s hot though,” Dan says, and Grace groans. He watches as Dan slides the paper toward him. “Why foxes, anyway?” Grace asks, taking the paper into his hands and tracing a finger over the still-wet watercolor as Dan hums, leaning on the table. “Because you’re smart. Foxes aren’t just cunning—they’re also intelligent, like you. Dr. Grace, with a PhD in molecular biology,” Dan murmurs, smiling at him.

“Oh come on—you know it didn’t work out,” Grace sighs, though he has a small smile. He never knew when it became easy to talk about academia and his failures within it, but with Dan, it seems effortless. 

They have enough dirt on each other to blackmail one another—that’s how much they trust each other. “You’re amazing, Grace. So amazing,” Dan whispers softly. “When I look at you, I see a beautiful future. You—me, we can have a cat, or a dog if you want, or maybe an iguana. Whatever works for you, Dr. Grace.” Dan says, and Grace smiles.

“You’re thinking about our future?” Grace asks. Dan nods, leaning on his hand with a dopey smile on his face. “I am—I am, always. You’re so good to me, Grace,” Dan grins. “I think you’ve got it all switched up; you’re good to me too, Dan,” Grace replies. Dan bites his finger, nodding and grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah?” Dan asks. “Mhm,” Grace nods back, and Dan snorts, looking down with a faint blush on his cheeks.

For a moment, they’re quiet, just staring at each other.  

“Think you can make more of these for me? I want to hang them around my classroom.” Grace flaps the paper a bit, and Dan’s brows rise in surprise. “You do?”  

“Yeah, they look amazing. Ever thought of selling these?” Grace asks.  

“That’s not going to make money,” Dan snorts, shaking his head.  

“Why not?” Grace asks.  

Dan shrugs. “I don’t know. I just don’t think any of my work is that important. It’s pretty easy to overlook it, isn’t it? If you didn’t know me, you wouldn’t even spare it a second glance,” he says with a hum as Grace looks down at the paper again, the beady eyes of the fox.  

“I think I would,” Grace replies.

* * *

It’s been so long since Grace returned to his childhood home. Grand-Mama, or rather, Holly, was glad enough to have him back. The house still had its yellow wallpaper adorned with white lilies, and it still smelled like vanilla with a mix of incense even now. 

The front yard featured Holly’s garden, the kitchen was where Grace loved to experiment with a bunch of trash he collected outside, and the pool in the back, empty of water, was where Grace once tried to skate, only to break his arm and refuse to do it again.

“So?” Holly sat on the porch in her favorite spot as Grace leaned on the fence, sipping a bit of coffee. Dan was asleep now, having been asleep since they left Grace’s apartment. Grace had carried him to their room upstairs so Dan could continue resting. “What happened, Grace? Why bring a druggie here?” Holly asked again, thumbing the yellow paper of her book as she glanced at him. 

“He's not just a druggie—he's my boyfriend,” Grace sighed. 

“I should have thought you’d learn how to find a better man,” Holly replied. 

“He is a good man. Life just... messed him up,” Grace said, running his hand through his hair. “He’s perfect—well, not in the sense of perfection, but in his own way. He makes me happy, he makes me laugh, he understands me…” Grace whispered.

“It’s always life, isn’t it?” Holly said, tilting her head. 

Grace nodded. “I need your help, Grand-Mama,” he muttered. 

“What can I do?” Holly asked. 

Grace shrugged. “I—I don’t know. You always know better than I do,” he whispered. 

“You’re the one with a doctorate between us both; you tell me,” Holly joked, but Grace didn’t smile or take the bait as he stood there. “He relapsed a few days ago…” Grace said.

“Hm.” Holly hummed. 

“He didn’t do much. He just took a bit to take the edge off, not even enough to get high… Does that mean he wants to get better?” Grace asked, turning to her again as Holly tapped her wrinkled finger on the front of her book. 

“He does,” Holly nodded. “It’s obvious he had the chance to take more than usual, but he took just a sliver of it. He does want to get better, Grace. You just have to meet him halfway,” she said.

Grace bit his lip, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he murmured, letting out a sharp breath of air. “Okay, I can do that.” 

“Of course you can,” Holly said as Grace swallowed, looking at the rim of his mug, licking his lips and feeling the bitter taste of the coffee. “Life got to him, Grace. It’s not too late,” Holly reassured.

“When my mother died, my dad drank and drank and drank until he wouldn’t know which day it was. But it didn’t matter to me; I loved him anyway, and I stayed there, helping him when he couldn’t move... or eat. Sometimes, it doesn’t take something crazy for someone to fall down. Sometimes it’s just how the world works, how the mind works,” Holly sighed as Grace nodded.

“I always thought Dan had a perfect life. His mother sounds nice,” Grace mumbled. “He’s still young,” he added.

Holly snorted. “It doesn’t choose an age; a child could experience this, and it wouldn’t matter. You know that, Grace,” she said as he nodded, lowering his head over his arm as he stood there, shuffling a bit. “He tried rehab. I think he did it twice. He relapsed twice too,” Grace said.

“Rehab does work, but maybe what he needs is someone who believes in him, not some doctor who cares about numbers and statistics more than their own patients,” Holly said. “Did you… uh, ever try getting your dad to rehab?” Grace turned to her fully, leaning back on the fence as Holly shook her head. “He stopped on his own,” she said. “And somehow he managed to live until he was 74.” She snorted.

“You think Dan can do that?” Grace asked. “He has you; why are you so worried?” Holly replied as Grace nodded, biting his lip.

The next day, Grace woke up to an empty bed again and noises coming from the kitchen. He stood up, rubbing his eyes, and saw Dan at the dining table, drinking tea while Holly puttered around the kitchen, making breakfast. Dan perked up when he saw Grace. “Hi, baby,” Dan whispered. His face was pale, and his hands were shaking; Grace could tell he was just trying to hide the effects. But he was in pain, and he was trying his hardest not to show it.

“It’s chamomile, good for pain, huh?” Grace looked at Dan’s mug, and Dan nodded. “Grace, help me prepare breakfast,” Holly said from the stove, grumbling, as Dan grinned at Grace, who rolled his eyes. At some point, Dan had tried to help around, but with his hands shaking and him dropping things, Holly told him to relax in the living room and try to find a good movie for them to watch.

“Uh-oh, another Adam Sandler movie,” Grace joked. “Better than Meryl Streep,” Dan replied.

“What’s wrong with Meryl Streep? She’s a beautiful woman.” Holly raised a judgmental brow at Dan, who blanched. “There are two of you now?” he asked as Grace laughed and he pushed Dan out of the kitchen. By the time they finished breakfast, Dan was already halfway through 50 First Dates for the hundredth time. 

“He actually slipped right in front of me; he was trying to impress me with his basketball skills,” Grace said as Dan groaned. “I didn’t slip, I was wearing loafers, Grace. Loafers! You can’t expect me to act like Jordan in loafers,” he argued.

“Jordan could take you down even without legs, darling,” Holly said, polishing off her sausages as she drank her tea. “Jordan doesn’t have a chance against my loafers,” Dan pointed his fork at her as Holly grinned. “Jordan wouldn’t even care about you,” Grace added, rolling her eyes. “Way to ruin the mood, RyRy,” Holly joked as she and Dan laughed while Grace grinned, eyeing Dan with his crinkled eyes and shaking shoulders. “She called you RyRy.” Dan comments

Maybe this new scenery was the best idea.

“Remember the 20 Questions game we played before we started dating?” Grace asked as he held Dan in his arms. They were just relaxing in the backyard on the couch swing that Grace loved to use when he was younger; he’d always read his books there. 

It was always pretty breezy around those areas, which is why he liked to sit there when it got stuffy inside the house. Not that it did—the house was big enough for the three of them. Holly usually spent her time in the reading room in her plush rocking chair, engrossed in her favorite books, and later on, she’d be watering the garden before preparing lunch.

“Mhm,” Dan hummed.

“Want to play it again?” Grace traced a finger over Dan’s ear, making him shiver. “I don’t know,” Dan whispered. “You’ll see me differently,” he added. 

“Why’s that?” Grace asked. Dan only shook his head. “I dunno—I’m messed up,” he said.

“You aren’t; you know that,” Grace replied, and Dan sighed. “How can you say that?” Dan asked.

“Because I know you’ll get better,” Grace replied. “You have me, Dan. You’ve always had me; you just had to come and talk to me. I would have been there,” he whispered, pressing a kiss on Dan’s head. Dan trembled, breathing hard. 

“Sorry—God, I’m so sorry… I just—I thought… I promised myself it was just a one-time thing… Then they kept calling, asking me about my work, how I should do my best—not too much because I can get sick, but enough that it matters—and how I’m treating you and how I should make sure to treat you well. So much stuff—it’s stupid. They’re just worried,” Dan said shakily as he grabbed Grace’s hand, pressing it his lips onto it, giving him a shaky kiss.

Grace ran his other hand over Dan’s side, sliding it beneath his shirt as he held his waist. “It’s so stupid—getting high over something so simple… they know about this… The first time I was taken to rehab was by my dad; they didn’t really want to help me. I was just there, always getting high—I don’t think they cared enough to actually bring me to rehab until someone pointed it out, and they finally made a move to do it,” Dan whispered, his head lolling over Grace’s shoulder as Grace ran his hand over Dan’s skin, the other moving to scratch his scalp lightly.

“They expect so much from me, but they never really tried to help me. I think it’s always been like that. I’ve always had freedom since I was a kid, and I thought they would care the more I pulled stupid stunts. Like—like getting along with the wrong crowd downtown. But my dad took one good look at me and said nothing; he just talked about his day, and my mom would too… I don’t know, Grace… Is it bad that I’ve always wanted them to care? Not in the way of the stupid calls telling me what to do—always empty words. I want action,” Dan whispered.

“I tried to find that in Rachel; that’s why this all started—getting high, having her. It was good, so good; we both discovered something better. It was so good getting high with her, just dancing, holding each other, skin to skin—I never knew what I was missing before I met her. I just wanted someone to care. Is that messed up? Am I a narcissist?” Dan asks.

“You aren’t, Dan. You just want to be loved like how you love others,” Grace whispers beside his ear as Dan shivers. “You’re so good to me, Grace, so good… I was so worried that you’ll leave me soon, that I’m not really that amazing, or good, or bright… I’m just me. And you’re you—you’re meant to do something big, out of this world. Somewhere there in space where I can’t reach you,” Dan whispers.

“But I want to be here, with you, Dan,” Grace says again as Dan breathes out, his body trembling. “You’re so good to me, Grace. How can you even stand me? I’m sick—so sick in the head,” Dan whispers. “You just wanted somebody, Dan. The drugs got to you first before I could,” Grace whispers.

Dan shivers again, goosebumps spreading across his skin as Grace holds him, the swing moving lightly as they lie there.

“I want you to get better, okay? We’ll do this together. I want to meet you halfway, Dan. I want to so badly. I love you so much,” Grace whispers, and Dan nods. “Me too—me too. I want to get better. I want to.” He whispers. “You’ve got me now, Dan. No rehab, I promise that. You’ve got me and Holly—you know, her dad used to be an alcoholic? And she helped him get better without rehab,” Grace says.

“Really?” Dan whispers.

“Yeah, you’ll do great, darling. You’ll do great,” Grace whispers as Dan nods shakily, grabbing Grace’s hand to press a kiss onto it. “Thank you so much, Grace. I love you.”

“I love you too. Always,” Grace murmurs.

.

.

.

I found a dream that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill I’ve never known
You smiled, you smiled
Oh, and then the spell was cast

“Who knew you could move your hips so well,” Dan says, giggling, his face buried in Grace’s neck as he holds him tightly. Grace laughs as they sway around the living room. They’ve bumped into the coffee table a few times already, a small price to pay for their tipsy waltz they’ve got on. That’s what usually happens when both of them are a bit drunk on wine, giggling like a pair of high school girls.

“You know that, don’t you?” Grace teases, acting coy as Dan kisses him on the mouth. Both of them laugh, their kisses hard and clumsy, like it’s their first time. Their laughter fills the room as Grace lets Dan bury his face into his neck, trailing kisses. He lets out a laugh, feeling ticklish when Dan licks him before pressing his lips against his skin. Smiling, Grace buries his hand in Dan’s hair, gently petting the back of his head as they continue swaying.

The music has already ended, but they don’t stop.

Dan breathes in sharply. “Kiss me,” he says. Without hesitation, Grace takes him, backing him against the wall, holding him there as he kisses the younger man deeply. Dan gasps, clutching onto Grace’s shoulders. Grace hikes up Dan’s shirt, his hands wandering over the warm skin beneath. 

Dan shivers, his skin prickling with goosebumps under Grace’s touch. He moans into Grace’s mouth, their lips slick and wet with saliva. Grace can taste the wine on Dan’s lips as he presses him further into the wall. The shelves shake nearby, dislodging a few books. They both laugh into each other’s mouths.

“Is this okay?” Grace asks breathlessly, slipping his knee between Dan’s legs. He grinds against him, eliciting a sweet moan that ignites a fire in Grace’s stomach. Dan trembles, his hands fumbling, unsure where to place them except for Grace’s shoulders.

“Y-yeah, you touch me so good,” Dan manages, grinning as Grace’s hand moves to his chest, brushing against a hint of chest hair. Dan shivers, humming softly as Grace leans closer, planting another kiss. Dan opens his mouth willingly, letting Grace in. Grace’s tongue sweeps over the roof of his mouth before he moves to unbutton Dan’s dress shirt, loosening his tie and discarding it to the side. 

He pulls Dan’s shoulders forward, and suddenly, they’re in Grace’s bedroom. Dan lies beneath him, panting and flushed, as Grace kneels over him, perched on his waist. His hands tremble with excitement as he works at the buttons on Dan’s shirt.

Dan laughs, throwing his head back as Grace fumbles with the buttons in his haste. “You’re shaking too much.”

Grace finally manages to slip the shirt off Dan’s shoulders, then tugs his undershirt over his head. Dan hums, looking up at him with a sly, almost infuriating smile. He wiggles when Grace pinches his skin teasingly, Grace’s hands quickly traveling to his belt buckle. There’s a loud clink as he unfastens it.

Dan’s breath quickens, his chest rising and falling. “Come on, get it off—I want to touch you again,” he whispers desperately. He tugs at Grace’s dress shirt.

“God, why do we both wear dress shirts?” Dan curses, laughing between their frantic fumbling. “Fuck.”

Grace sits up, swiftly unbuttoning his own shirt as Dan props himself up against the headboard, yanking off his belt and jeans. He kicks them off hurriedly, leaving himself in only his underwear. Grace discards his shirt and, with Dan’s help, slips out of his slacks.

“Come on, come on—you’re so slow, old man,” Dan whines, tossing his head back as Grace finally pulls his pants off. He kisses Dan hard on the mouth, their lips colliding with such fervor that Dan knows he’ll wake up with bruised lips tomorrow.

“Calm down, you’re too excited,” Grace murmurs, nipping at Dan’s lower lip. Dan moans, spreading his legs wider as Grace leans over him, crowding him back down onto the bed. He holds Dan down firmly, pinning him in place.

“Want you to hold me down,” Dan whispers, voice shaking. “Kiss me so hard I can’t breathe.”

Grace hums in response, pressing their lips together again. He bites Dan’s lower lip gently, making him gasp. Grace takes the opportunity, pushing his tongue deeper. Dan moans, his wrists pinned securely as Grace’s hands roam over his bare skin. Dan bucks his hips upward, pressing their bodies together, making them both groan.

He moves to kiss Grace again.

And the night continues like that. As always, they don’t go further than penetration—they never really do. Neither of them cares much about the sex itself. It’s the intimacy they crave: the feel of skin against skin, the warmth of holding each other. Lips on each other’s skin, the soft gasps and gentle touches—they’re more than enough. Grace loves it. He’s always loved these moments—the closeness, the unspoken connection between them.

“How’s that?” Dan asks when Grace turns his head to see ink on his waist. Dan had gone out of the room to grab his pen from his case, then come back and doodled something on Grace’s skin, his tongue poking from his lips in concentration as Grace lay there.

“Can’t really see from here,” Grace says, adjusting his glasses to look, but Dan’s already capped his pen and flopped down beside him.

“You’ll see it tomorrow when you go to your bathroom,” Dan hums as Grace moves to lie on his side.

“Yeah, okay…” Grace yawns, holding onto Dan as they shift a bit on the bed, ending up with Grace as the little spoon and Dan as the big spoon, Dan’s arms wrapped around him. Grace lays there, a warm feeling building in his chest, so overwhelming it almost brings tears to his eyes.

They lie there in the quiet.

Dan’s thumb strokes softly across Grace’s waist, back and forth. It feels nice—amazing, even.

“You like me?” Dan asks, and Grace snickers.

“What do you think?” he replies, hearing Dan giggle behind him.

“No, I’m serious. You like me, yeah?” Dan whispers.

“Mhm,” Grace murmurs, and Dan lets out a happy sigh.

“Me too. Glad you like me as well,” Dan says quietly.

“What’s not to like about you?” Grace asks, tilting his head back to look at Dan, who just smiles.

“I dunno, there’s a lot not to like about me. I’m not easy to like,” Dan says softly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think that’s a bunch of junk and bull—I like you just fine. You’re like air: you’re there, I need you, and I like you,” Grace grins, and Dan bursts out laughing. They settle back into cuddling, Dan’s face buried against the back of Grace’s neck.

“I like this,” Dan murmurs.

“Me too,” Grace whispers back.

“Grace, I don’t want to fuck this up. Ever. I need you to know I’m serious,” Dan whispers in his ear as Grace hums in response. He knows that—he knows Dan is being serious, that whatever this is, it’s not just some casual thing between them.

“I know,” Grace replies.

“Just wanted you to know,” Dan says softly. “I want you… so much.”

“I want you too,” Grace murmurs, placing his hand over Dan’s and tracing his thumb over Dan’s skin.

* * *

Grace woke up early, with Dan lying on his side of the bed, curled up. He had been shaking throughout the night, and since he had been getting sick, It was probably around 4 when he finally fell asleep. Grace placed a bin at the side of the bed, though it mostly contained saliva. “Ryland? I have a grocery list for today. I was wondering if you could take care of it for me. I’m going to draw Dan a warm bath; he’s been saying his body hurts for a while now,” Holly said, offering a long yellow pad to Grace, who sipped from his mug while rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

He took the list from Holly’s hand and nodded. “Yup, alright—” Grace mumbled. “Do you think an Epsom salt bath would help him?” Holly asked. “God knows it’s been helping my joints,” she added. “Maybe. We can try. He’s still asleep. He won’t wake up until 10 or 11; he was up until midnight, sick and all,” Grace replied.

Holly hummed, sitting down in front of Grace as she slowly prepared her tea, her small spoon gently clinking against the porcelain. “That’s normal. Give him 2 to 3 weeks; he’ll feel better. Body pains and insomnia are mostly side effects of going cold turkey,” she explained as Grace sighed and nodded. “I know—it’s just… It’s hard seeing this happen to him,” he admitted.

“It always is when it’s someone you love. Now go on and buy the things I asked for before he wakes up. I’ll prepare the bath, but I think I’ll wait for you,” she said, and Grace nodded, standing up. “Can I borrow your car?” he asked.

Holly waved her hand dismissively. “Go ahead. Just don’t get it all scratched up; that was my father’s,” she said, and Grace grinned. The ride to the store was mostly quiet, primarily because Grace didn’t know how to work the radio in the old car. While it was well-kept, it was really ancient. 

And Grace liked to keep his head on his shoulders; Grand-Mama would kill him if he messed with her car.

“Some flour, rice, lemon, apple, tea, pepper, salt,” Grace mumbled under his breath as he pushed the cart down the aisle, checking the list and tossing what he needed inside. 

He spotted a few bubblegum blueberry packs that Dan would often buy when they went out, so he grabbed two, knowing Dan would eat two at a time and it would take him about a week to finish them. Dan always bothered Grace with all the bubblegum popping he did; it was probably why he consumed more than one, to make the popping sound louder.

Always an asshole—that’s why Grace loved him so much.

His phone rang as he stood by the cashier, pulling out his card to hand it to the woman. He glanced at the caller ID and saw his grandmother’s name. Why was she calling now? Maybe she forgot to add something to the list? Seriously? Right at the time Grace was at the cashier? Jesus.

“Hello?” Grace replied. “Ryland, Dan’s gone missing. He left in his car,” Holly said. Grace nearly dropped his phone as he stepped away. The woman behind the register called for him, but he waved her off. 

“What? What! How? Where did he go?” Grace asked, his voice rising as he ran his hand through his hair while walking past a few people toward the car. He fished his keys out and jumped inside without even bothering to open the door. For once he’s thankful of open roofed cars

He inserted the key into the ignition. “There was a phone call—someone called his phone, and suddenly he drove off. I couldn’t stop him, Ryland. I tried, and I’m sorry,” Holly said.

“Fuck—who—who called him?” Grace pulled out of the parking lot, tires screeching as he felt his blood run cold, speeding down the road, ignoring the red lights and drawing honks from other drivers as he turned toward home. His hand trembled on the steering wheel as he gripped it tightly. “I have no idea, Ryland. I have to hang up; I’m calling the police,” Holly said, and Grace nodded, tears streaming down his face. “Okay—okay,” he sobbed.

“Breathe, Ryland. We’ll find him; he can’t have gotten that far,” Holly reassured him, and Grace let out a shaky breath. “Okay… okay… Tell them he’s really sick, okay?” he said. “I will. Try to look around the road; don’t come back here. You won’t find him here,” Holly said before the call ended. 

Grace tossed his phone onto the passenger seat as he drove around the block, tears streaming down his face as he scanned the streets, noticing a few people looking at him as he drove by repeatedly before switching to another street, hoping he would see Dan walking around.

He tries to swallow the fear he feels when he comes back home. He couldn’t see Dan around, and his calls keep going to voicemail, so he returns to his house. The sight of a single police car parked in the driveway and the absence of Dan’s car almost makes him cry as he runs up the porch. 

“Did they find him?” Grace asks, spotting two officers seated in the living room. Holly is in her love seat, talking to them, her face grim as she turns and shakes his head. 

“Mrs. March here said that your partner is experiencing a cocaine detox at the moment. He was an addict?” one officer asks as Grace turns to him, swallowing hard. He nods. 

“He’s getting better—he couldn’t have gotten far; his body hurts, and he can barely move,” he says, watching the officer write something down on his notepad. “Are you going to search for him? We need more people to look for him,” Grace stammers, wiping his face, his hands shaking.

The other officer clears his throat. “So far, we haven’t found Mr. Dunne, and we’ve sent a few officers downtown to search for him. But we’re here to ask you if you have any idea where he could be?” he inquires. 

Grace shakes his head. Dan doesn’t go out much; he’s really just like Grace when it comes to places. It’s mostly just school, his apartment, and the grocery store. But their apartment is about an hour away from here—

“No… no, I don’t know,” Grace mumbles. “Have you tried calling him?” the officer asks. “What do you think I did first?” Grace replies, almost hysterical. “Ryland,” Holly warns him. 

“They’re here to help,” she adds, and Grace mutters an apology, wiping his eyes as he nods. He answers a few more questions before the two officers leave, and Grace is left looking around his room, trying to find clues about where Dan might have gone.

But the bed is just unmade, and nothing else. The cup of water is still on the nightstand, tea that Dan half-drank last night. And that’s basically it. Grace paces around a few more times before spotting Holly watering her garden outside, and he lets out a sigh. 

“Are we just going to wait for the police?” Grace asks, nibbling his lower lip as Holly pauses. “What can we do? They’re our only hope. Not unless you know where he might go,” Holly says. Grace sits down on the porch steps, his legs feeling like jelly, and tears spill out.

“I don’t know… I don’t know,” Grace whispers.

“The police will find him, Ryland,” Holly reassures him.

“I’m scared. What if he’s hurt right now? In a ditch? Someone could hurt him. He’s not lucid enough if he’s in pain; you know that,” Grace whimpers, digging his nails into his scalp. “I’m scared. I’m so scared. I can’t—I can’t lose him. What if—oh God.” He cries into his hands as Holly moves, lowering her hose, shutting it off as she slowly moves beside him, reaching down to pet his head, scratching her nails over his scalp—the same thing she would do every time Grace would have a sudden panic attack when things get too overwhelming for him.

“Head between your knees, Ryland. Breathe,” she says. Grace nods, lowering his head between his knees as he breathes in and out: inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Suddenly, his phone rings, and he scrambles to sit up as he grabs his phone from his pocket. “It’s Dan,” he cries out, swiping to accept the call. “Hello?” Grace says shakily, pressing it to his ear. “Dan? Baby?” he asks again when he hears nothing but harsh breathing. Dan’s there, but he’s just breathing. 

“Grace?” Dan says weakly, his voice rough, and his breath coming out in pants. “Dan—Dan, baby, where are you?” Grace stands up and turns to Holly, who is already inside the house, getting her landline to call the police.

“I’m sorry—I did it again, got high,” Dan says breathlessly. It’s like he’s falling asleep—Grace feels his chest clench as he holds onto his phone tightly. He should have known—fuck— “Baby, it’s okay. Relapse—relapse is part of healing,” Grace murmurs. 

“No—no… I’m so sorry,” Dan whispers. “Earlier, Mom called. She was here—and then, she asked me to...” Dan drifts off for a moment, and Grace stands there, holding his breath. 

“She asked me to meet up with her—I miss her a lot, Grace. I really miss her. Dad didn’t get to come since he’s really busy… always busy—and I went to see her. Mom was there. And she hugged me, bought me food, and told me how her life’s been. And—” Dan gasps, and Grace grabs Holly’s keys, pointing at her car as she nods. He rushes out of the house, jumps into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and pulls out of the driveway, leaving his phone on speaker.

And he easily traced back Dan’s phone to their apartment—an hour away. Grace didn’t care; he sped down the road, hands gripping the wheel tightly. “And she didn’t even care about me… She told me I look like—like crap.” Dan giggled. “I look like crap! Fuck—fuck, that’s so funny… haha—it’s not funny.” Dan sobbed afterward, and Grace swallowed a lump in his throat. “She didn’t ask about me or how my day’s been. She just patted my cheek and said goodbye, didn’t even finish her food—didn’t even—” Dan sniffed. “I don’t know. I wanted a hug from her. Is that too childish?” he asked, his voice small.

“It’s not. It never is. She’s your mother; of course, it’s alright to ask for one,” Grace said as Dan let out a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” he replied.

Then it was just him breathing in and out. “I’m sorry, Grace,” Dan said slowly, his breathing heavy. His words were spaced apart—Grace bit his tongue, resisting the urge to scream and shout as he heard Dan breathing again, like he was taking in a lot of smoke. Damn—he was still doing it. Shit—fuck.

“What are you sorry for?” Grace swallowed, his voice trembling.

“I don’t know—for… doing this to you? I’m hopeless; it’s better if we just… stop this,” Dan said. 

“You don’t get the right to say that while high,” Grace growled, and he heard Dan giggle—and it was aggravating. Grace just wanted to jump inside his phone, get to where Dan was right now, hold him, and tell him it’d be okay.

“I don’t know, Grace. I don’t know.” Dan’s voice was getting faint. “I feel so stupid for making you go through this. I wish I hadn’t introduced myself to you… You would have been better off without me,” Dan whispered.

“Don’t say that—all these months with you have been the happiest days of my life. All this time, all I had were the kids, and then you came barreling in. Some sleazy, annoying guy from Brooklyn, making friends with everyone, and every student liked you. I was fucking annoyed that they preferred you more than me the longer you stayed. And I hated you for a while, then you went and started making a move on me… you fucking bastard, you can’t leave me, okay?! I want to be here with you.” Grace vented, not even stuttering or stammering as he shouted. 

“So stop fucking talking about leaving me, or I’ll kill you! You don’t get to put me through this bullshit just to leave me, okay?! I want to fight for you, and you’re not even trying your best to meet me halfway!” Grace growled, slamming his fist repeatedly on the wheel, causing it to honk loudly.

He heard Dan’s breath hitch.

Grace breathed hard, chest heaving; he was fifteen minutes away from his apartment—

Then Dan started sobbing. “I’m so sorry—you’re right… Grace… I’m so—so… Where are you? I’m sorry. I’m sorry; I don’t want to do this anymore. I want to go back—sorry… I’m sorry,” Dan whimpered, his voice fading, and Grace could hear something clattering, harsh breathing, and repeated apologies. 

He didn’t bother parking the car at the side of the street as he ran up the stairs. His apartment door was unlocked, left open as he rushed in. “Dan!” Grace called. Their bedroom was a mess. Dan’s wardrobe was pulled out, and there was a hole behind it. “Oh Jesus—Oh God.” Grace mutters under his breath, and for a moment he shuts his eyes, afraid of what he’ll see if he continues searching for Dan. 

There were a few bottles of beer on the coffee table and faint powder. The medicine box was there, placed on top. It was empty; the plastic baggies were all empty, thrown on the floor as Grace felt his breath shorten when he turned towards the bathroom. 

The door was shut, and he ran towards it, opening it.

“Grace.” Dan whimpered, curled under the sink, leaning hard against the tiled wall, eyes bloodshot and dilated. He was sweating—sweating like crazy as Grace rushed to him, kneeling. He saw the small glass vial—the same thing he found on Dan the day he discovered Dan was getting high in school. 

The bathroom smelled like kerosene, chemicals, and gasoline, and Dan's breaths were rapid, his head tilted back, leg curled at the side as if he’s trying to hide from Grace but gave up mid way. His phone was lying on the side, still on a call with Grace. 

Grace dragged Dan onto his lap, whispering, “‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Dan whimpered as Grace pulled him up to his feet. “You–You took too much cocaine, baby. We need to get you to the hospital. Come on, Dan. Dan, come on.” Grace whispered, his voice shaking as Dan tried to pull himself up, using the sink to help Grace lift him. But he was deadweight; it was as if every part of Dan was tethered to the gravity below and his legs wouldn’t move. “Can’t—” Dan whined.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck—oh fuck. I feel so sick—Grace… Grace,” Dan stuttered, whimpering as he leaned heavily on Grace, holding onto him, his legs losing strength, eyes fluttering open and closed as Grace carried him out of the bathroom. 

Before he grunted, sliding an arm underneath Dan’s legs, he princess-carried him out of the apartment. Adrenaline was probably the only thing keeping him moving and carrying Dan. Grace had never really been the strongest—sure, he had the body, but it was more of a hobby to keep himself a little fit, not too crazy. Now he’s glad he’s done all of that useless shit.

Dan’s head lolls back, his eyes glazed and crazily bloodshot, as if he’s seeing nothing anymore. Grace drops him onto the backseat, his legs curled up; he’s a ragdoll now. Cursing, Grace presses his fingers to Dan’s neck—his heart is racing. “Dan—Dan… Baby, come on,” he whispers as he jumps into the driver’s seat. 

Dan isn’t responding, his eyes glazed over, his body limp as Grace drives down the street to the nearest emergency hospital he knows.

“Dan. Baby, you’ve got to talk to me.” Grace reaches back, keeping his eyes on the road while he grabs Dan’s hand—it’s cold and stiff. He swallows hard as he pulls up to the front of the hospital, carrying Dan out. “Help! Help!” he yells as he cradles Dan against his chest, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. 

His head lolls to the side; he still isn’t responding.

Shit—oh Lord, Jesus Christ.

“What happened?” a nurse rushes to her. “He has a lot of cocaine in his system,, he did both the powder form and the vapor form,” Grace stammers as multiple nurses and a doctor take Dan from her arms and onto a rolling bed. Suddenly, Dan seizes, his body shaking. “Seizure,” a nurse says. “Oh God—” Grace tries to follow, but he’s pulled back. “I need you to give him his information,” the nurse instructs as Grace looks over at the bed being wheeled toward a room, Dan’s body shaking. He sinks to the floor, burying his face in his hands. “Oh God.”

.

.

.

Grace is not religious. In fact, since he's a man of science, you could almost call him an atheist. He believes in science, in calculations, in logic, and in things that he can observe. But now he can't help but pray under his breath as he sits beside Dan's bedside. Dan's face is so pale and white that he's almost blending in with his own damn bed.

Holly has been coming and going now; they've been here for a few days—maybe this is the fifth day. Dan wakes up, but he’s never lucid enough to see Grace or anyone else. Sometimes his eyes open for a moment, trying to talk before they close again.

The doctors said it was normal, he’s coming down from the cocaine after all.

Hail Mary, full of grace,the Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou among women,and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.

“Hail Mary, full of grace—” Grace whispers, hands clasped together as he sits there. “Blessed art thou among women.”

“And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.” When did you become religious?” Grace raised his head to see Dan, his eyes barely open. His hand moved inch by inch toward Grace’s as Grace gasped, dropping his hands to grab Dan’s. 

“Dan—baby, you’re okay. You’re okay,” Grace whispered as he stood to lean over and hug him. Dan wrapped his arm around Grace’s neck, kissing his cheek and pressing his lips gently against it. “Grace—Grace. I’m so sorry, that was so fucking stupid of me—I shouldn’t have done that,” Dan whispered, his voice trembling as Grace kissed away his tears, running his hand through Dan’s hair.

“It’s okay… You’re here, that’s what matters,” Grace whispered. “Sorry—I want to try again—this time, properly. I want to try again.” Dan grabbed his hand, kissing the back of it as Grace sat down, breathing shakily. “No rehab?” Grace asked. “No rehab, just you—and me,” Dan whispered. “Are you sure?” Grace asked as Dan nodded, his eyes red, but thankfully this time, from tears.

“I just need you, Grace; you’ll give me the strength I need,” Dan whispered. “Then no outside forces. No family of yours, none of them. You’re cutting ties with them if they can’t even be there to watch over you,” Grace said as Dan’s eyes widened. “You called them?” he asked. “Not me, the hospital. They needed your family, but...,” Grace coughed, averting his gaze. “I’m here now; me and Grand-Mama, we’re your family, okay? Screw them, they can go die in a ditch for all I care. If they can’t be bothered to care for you, we’ll do it instead.” Grace held Dan’s hand tightly as he breathed in shakily, nodding. “Okay…” Dan whispered.

“Okay?” Grace asked.

Dan nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said.

And Grace leaned over to press a kiss on Dan’s hand—Dan moved, cradling Grace’s cheek as he smiled softly. “Can you get up here? Beside me? Stay here until I fall asleep?” Dan whispered, and Grace stood, letting Dan adjust on his bed and giving him space as he sat beside him. Dan sat up a bit, and Grace slid an arm under him, allowing Dan to lean back against his chest, letting out a relieved sigh.

“I miss you,” Grace pressed a kiss onto Dan’s hair.

“Me too. I miss you so much,” Dan sighed.

Grace just held him tight. And for a while they were quiet, listening to each other breathing. Grace knew Dan wasn’t asleep yet, he can see him tracing his finger on the words on Grace’s shirt after all.

“You ever had that?” Dan whispered, tired. “What?” Grace mumbled. “Thoughts… about just—disappearing, or realizing that anything you do won’t matter, that no one will remember you… Your name, the color of your eyes, hair… voice,” Dan explained, his voice low. 

“I’ve always wanted to impart something to kids—like… knowledge. Something they can remember me by… I don’t know—” Dan whispered.

“I’m not scared of death or even living, but I’m scared of becoming nothing and no one. I’m scared that when I die, no one will remember me,” Dan whispered. “I know you—I remember you,” Grace murmured into his hair, and Dan shifted to bury his face against his chest. 

“You’re Dan Dunne. The most annoying man I’ve ever met, the only person who can actually make me laugh. Sometimes you’re stupid, but I love it so much. And you’re so passionate about everything that I feel like you’ve given back an old spark I threw away ever since I lost my place in the academy,” Grace murmured.

“You’re the best person in the world. My students prefer you over me; it’s kind of messed up,” Grace added, and Dan chuckled, his shoulders shaking. “That’s stupid,” Dan said, and Grace grinned, pressing a kiss to Dan’s temple. 

“You’re stupid. No one will forget you; everyone that comes across you holds a piece of your memory. No one can actually be forgotten, not even strangers. You may not know their name, but you remember their face; you may not know their face, but you remember the color of their hair. Or their voice when they pass you. You’ll never be forgotten, Dan. And those are still memories, knowledge about you. Sure, it’s not the knowledge you want, but it’s still considered one,” Grace murmured.

Dan fell silent.

“I love you so much, Grace,” he mumbled. “You know that right?”

“I know baby, I know. And I love you too,” Grace replied, and Dan moved closer. “I’m going to sleep now,” he said.

“Alright, I’ll be here until you wake up,” Grace said as he scratched Dan’s scalp, and Dan hummed.

For a moment, it was quiet.

“Grace?” Dan asked.

“What’s up?” Grace replied.

“I want to do it,” Dan said. “The kid’s book. I’ve mentioned it to you before, didn’t I?”

Grace nodded, humming. “You did mention that; it would be nice, yeah?” he said.

“Mhm. It would be nice,” Dan murmured.

.

.

.

“An author? You want to be one?” Grace laughs as Dan’s face turns red. “It’s not a novel or anything big; it's just a kid’s book.” He groans, palming his face as he stuffs his mouth with his sandwich, chewing aggressively. “Just a kid’s book? A book’s a book, Dan,” Grace says, taking a bite of his sushi as Dan shrugs.

“I don’t know when I can do it, though,” Dan says. “Why not? Why not now?” Grace asks. Dan just shrugs again, rolling his eyes. “Too much time needed—” he says. “Lazy,” Grace pokes as Dan just grins. 

“I’m not,” he replies, playfully hitting Grace’s foot with his. “Just admit it, I’m not judging,” Grace grins. “Uh-huh,” Dan responds.

“Come on, you should start working on it,” Grace encourages. Dan blows out a breath, shrugging. “I’ll check my schedule,” he says. As Grace grins, he picks up a piece of sushi with his chopsticks and hovers it over Dan’s lips. Dan opens his mouth and takes a bite, chewing as he nods at Grace. “That’s good. Really good,” Dan says.

Grace grins. “Want to come over tonight? After work?” he asks.

Dan grins back, a sly smile on his face. “What do you have in mind?” he asks. “Dead Poets Society. What do you think? I like looking at Ethan Hawke’s face from time to time,” Grace replies. “I look better than Ethan Hawke,” Dan retorts, and Grace snorts in response. “You like shy boys? I can be a shy boy,” Dan says, grinning from ear to ear as Grace rolls his eyes at him. “I like you just the way you are,” Grace replies, poking his chopsticks at Dan’s cheek, eliciting a happy noise from him.