Chapter Text
"Happy birthday!"
Colt was front and center at Ryland's apartment door. His lips were curled into a sly smile as he raised his sunglasses to perch them on his head. It was winter, but that never stopped Colt. He thought they made him look cool—mysterious even.
But he digresses; if he was going to be honest, he would have forgotten it was his birthday if he didn't share it with Colt.
It wasn't exactly their birthday yet, but would be in just a few hours.
Behind Colt stood Courtland, Ryland, and Colt's older brother.
"Colt. Court," Ryland heaved. He wasn't expecting visitors—honestly, he thought he'd be spending his birthday alone. Yes, he may have sprinted to the door, but it did not mean he was hoping he'd have visitors.
He wasn't.
Besides, who would visit him on a normal day?
Colt lives in Sydney, and he had his hands full with his fiancée, Jody. He was going to be marrying her in a few months; it'd be surprising if he weren't busy. He had stunts to do, a wedding to plan, and someone to share that with.
The year was going to be packed for Colt.
He's been getting more jobs as a stuntman after the whole Tom Ryder fiasco too. He was in the prime of life, you might say. Ryland didn't understand how Colt could manage the hyperactive schedule. Whenever Colt spoke about his agenda, it sounded like he enjoyed the volatility of it.
Court—well…is Court. He's without a partner as well. Just like Ryland—that was one of the only constants in Courtland's life. He never stays in one area for more than a couple of months. With his line of work, staying in one place was dangerous. Yet lately, he's made an effort to keep the moving to a minimum.
An effort to bring stability into his life.
Her life.
He's got a child.
A girl named Claire he considers his own daughter, even if he doesn't say it. Ryland doesn't know the nitty-gritty details of it, but Court did tell him she had no remaining family. He was the only one she felt safe around.
Court didn't have to say it, but Ryland knew having Claire around put him more at ease as well. He wanted her safe, and she would be—under his protection.
He looked at Claire the same way he looked at the twins when they were around her age. Soft, comforting, and incredibly proud. The whole 'girl dad' thing he was leaning into suited him. And Ryland believed it was a well-needed escape from everything else Court might have going on.
"Happy birthday, Colt." Ryland couldn't help the smile that inevitably graced his lips.
"Happy birthday, Ry." Court was holding a couple of gift bags, which Ryland assumed were for both himself and Colt.
Ryland had seen Colt a few times over the phone. They call each other often just to catch up or even just to rid themselves of boredom. But Court was a different story.
Working for the CIA or whatever meant he was basically impossible to reach on a good day—even being his own family. Ryland understood it was for safety and whatnot, but it was still jarring to see him out and about or receive a phone call from him every other month since…well, he didn't exist if he wasn't in front of you.
And Ryland meant that literally.
It's been around ten years since Court reconnected with the twins, and he called or visited as often as he could. Often wasn't often enough for Ryland—he felt selfish to think that, but he missed his older brother dearly.
All that to say, Court looked different.
Not to an extreme.
Just different.
He was in his early forties now. He still had the stoic expression he's carried since they first reunited. His usually full stubble beard was trimmed, he guessed recently. Despite being slightly shorter than Colt, they came to the same height—unsurprising; Court's posture was perfect. He always carried himself with poise and equanimity.
It made Ryland a little envious.
Colt normally carried himself with more confidence, but he seemed tuckered out.
Oddly enough, there was no sign of Claire anywhere.
"Thanks. Where's Claire?" Ryland leaned to his left, attempting to view behind Colt's frame.
"She's with Jody—probably turning her into a pretty princess," Colt took Ryland's leaning as an invitation to barrel into his apartment, to which Ryland stumbled and yelped out.
"Hey!"
"Jody is taking her to the library and then for dinner," Court corrected. Ryland hadn't realized Court's hand on his back until Court had already aided him in grounding himself. Ryland shot him an appreciative look before remembering he wasn't expecting visitors.
The day before had been…wired. Ryland had woken up late and was rushing first thing in the morning. Then when he got home, he had the idiotic idea to prepare a nice dinner for himself before remembering he had dozens of papers to grade and—things snowballed from there.
He had been too tired to clean up last night, and he had to work today. He just hadn't found much time to do anything really.
"They both say happy birthday, by the way—wha-ho! Did a tornado pass through here?" Colt set down his sunglasses and a box (cake?) on his kitchen island—hold on, did he always have that?
"I wasn't expecting to have anyone over!" Ryland argued. He hurried over to the kitchen to make it at least semi-presentable to his siblings.
It was an odd thing to worry about.
Making things presentable for his family—brothers at that.
It wasn't something he ever used to worry about. It was another reminder of how much time they had spent apart.
Right now, the lack of contact made the present more special—they were all in one place again.
The revelation made a warm heat blossom in Ryland's chest.
Ryland blew out an exasperated breath. "You know I-it's—it's like six o'clock?! I just got back from work and—and who wants to hang out with a teacher after work?" Colt looked at Courtland with pursed lips.
A look that screamed, "he's a loser."
"You're pretty cool though, when you're not being a dork," Colt remarked, clasping his hands together and smiling. Like he was helping.
"Wow, thanks," Ryland scoffed.
"You're very welcome." Colt flopped down onto Ryland's couch, and Court followed in suit. He set the gift bags next to the couch and turned his head to Ryland, who was still cleaning his hectic kitchen.
"You should be celebrating," Court pointed out. Colt nodded to Court's words.
"Don't you have friends?"
Court clicked his tongue at Colt and fixed him with a scathing glare, to which Colt shrugged with a wry smile.
"Do you?" Ryland shot back. Colt narrowed his eyes before rolling them. He sank further into the couch next to Court. Ryland booted up his coffee machine, and before long, the familiar hum and drip started.
Yes, coffee at seven o'clock at night. Sue him.
"I've got Jody!"
Ryland looked to Court as if he would be the one to put Colt in his place, but he shook his head.
He was no help. Like ever.
"You've gotta branch out, Ry Ry," Colt teased, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. He was lucky he just barely avoided his graded papers. Ryland's face twisted into something more displeased at the nickname, and that seemed to be the reaction Colt was pushing for because his lips split out into a cocky grin.
"I told you to cut it out with the nickname," Ryland scoffed, a small pout visible on his face. Colt exaggeratedly mimicked his expression to mock him before receiving a well-deserved elbow to the rib from Court.
He always helped Ryland a great deal.
Ryland put away the last of his plates and let out a sigh of relief.
"Coffee?" Ryland offers. Colt shoots him a thumbs up, and Court nods. With how tired Colt looked, it was safe to assume they just got off a flight. Court was used to constant flights—besides, Ryland wasn't sure if he ever got more than three hours of sleep. It wasn't surprising Court looked perfectly fine.
Once the coffee was done, Ryland handed out the warm mugs. Colt asked to take his coffee the same way Ryland did—two milks and two sugars, and Court took his plain. It was disturbingly dark, but it made sense for Court to skip out on additives.
Maybe.
Not really.
But Ryland wasn't about to question his older brother on his coffee preferences.
He joined them on the couch and conversation picked back up.
Or was going to.
Colt always had something to say.
"'I told a chemistry joke, but there was no reaction.' Are you kidding me right now, Ryland?" Colt snorted as he inspected the mug Ryland now regretted giving him. Ryland waved him off.
"That was a gift. And—And I like it, so joke's on you 'cause I don't even care," Ryland threw his free hand up in emphasis. Ryland reached for Colt's mug and easily pulled it from his grip and replaced it with his plain mug.
"Since you don't want to appreciate the cool science mug," Ryland huffed.
Colt bit back a laugh, and Court shook his head with a sigh. He imagined it was hard for Court to fathom they only had a five-year age gap.
"Don't you got a bunch of co-workers, Ry? Talk to them," Colt nudged, and Ryland let out a soft groan. He shrugged with a dejected look. Truth be told, he wasn't keen on interacting with his co-workers—the wounds from UNESCO were still there. It had been three years, and really he had to let it go, but the people in his field knew about it.
And they brought it up.
All the time.
They didn't hate him, far from it, but they weren't actively trying to befriend him either, and that was okay. Ryland didn't need them to—he had his kids and a roof over his head. They'd grow up into incredible people, and Ryland would be there to watch. You didn't need friends for that.
"We're…it's complicated," Ryland deflected.
"You think everything is complicated," Court reminded.
"Touché," he sighed. Court didn't answer; he flashed his eyebrows and brought his mug back to his lips.
"We're almost like forty, dude. No offense," Colt said quickly as he put a hand to Court's shoulder. "Time to get a girlfriend as sweet as Jody." Colt had a dreamy look in his eyes as he uttered the name. It made Ryland's chest tighten pleasantly; words couldn't describe how happy he was for his brother to have found the one—but it was equally sickening.
Ryland gave Colt a low-effort sneer, "I'm not interested in that like you are. Happy for you though."
Court leaned forward to meet Ryland's gaze. Court also didn't have a girlfriend. He never seemed to mind. Actually, Ryland vaguely remembers Colt sharing how Court seemingly turned down a couple of people already. If Ryland was uninterested in dating—Court just doesn't even consider it an option.
And Ryland understood. He had Claire, and that was enough for Court. He liked to keep his circle small anyway.
Fewer people he'd risk endangering.
Colt and Court had both settled down into a life they felt most comfortable in, one that felt right, one that was fulfilling.
And Ryland was behind.
Ryland wouldn't say he was totally uninterested in dating despite what he told Colt. True that he'd be okay if he turned out to never meet his partner, but he wanted emotional connection outside of his brothers.
He wanted to experience the domesticity of it all.
Coming home to a place that was lived in by someone besides himself. Taking pictures to put around the house—a special someone to share the special moments with.
He used to do all that with his brothers, but they were busy with their own lives and families now. They weren't always going to be there, and a part of him wished they could be. That ended when Court had gone to jail for protecting him and Colt. And they had barely reached double digits.
"We're just worried, Ry. You're…alone most of the time," Colt admitted, his teasing tone had vanished. Colt seemed to look almost guilty. Guilty that he had found happiness and that Ryland was still finding his way. "We want to know you're being taken care of while we're gone."
"I'm not six," he averred.
"Never said you were," Court clarified. Ryland had to stop himself from clicking his tongue.
"You…You don't need to worry about me. I'm happy," Ryland pressed. His grip on his mug tightened—he didn't want them to worry.
Worrying about him was pointless.
"Yeah? Well, we'd hope so," Colt sighed.
This was for the best.
Predictability was comfort.
He could go put himself out there, but there were too many things that could go wrong. Heartbreak—again. Conflict arises where there's happiness. Happiness doesn't exist where conflict doesn't, and Ryland isn't ready for that. It's a cowardly move—to shut yourself out because you're afraid of a natural part of life, but he can't bring himself to care.
Or more accurately, he can't bring himself to think about it.
He'll leave this problem for future Ryland.
A Ryland that can commit.
One that'll rise to the challenge.
"I was even thinking of going to the gym, so I-I'm fine," Ryland smiled awkwardly.
That was a lie.
Between teaching and more teaching, he was not keen on going to the gym. Riding a bike to work was enough exercise for him.
Colt's lips parted in surprise. For the past fifteen years, Colt had been trying to get Ryland to go to the gym—preferably with him, but that went out the window when he moved to Sydney with Jody.
"To work out?" Court sputtered, and Ryland couldn't help but feel offended. Just a little bit.
"Yes, to work out! What else would I do at the gym?"
"No-No! We're happy!" Colt put his hand in front of Court's face, which he didn't seem to appreciate much with the way he gripped Colt's wrist. He promptly took his hand back with a glare.
"Right…uh… we brought gifts. And a cake." Colt turned to Court once more, and he quietly picked up the gift bags from the floor.
Ryland bit back a smile. "…The gym diet can wait. Let's cut the cake?" And to that, Colt groaned.
"God, you're boring."
Court pushed himself off the couch and held his hands out for Colt. He took them, and Court helped pull him up. Ryland stood up on his own next to Colt. They all left their mugs on the coffee table before migrating to the kitchen island where Colt left the cake.
Colt sat in front of the cake, and Ryland stood across the island after retrieving a lighter from one of the many kitchen drawers. Court stood off to the side with a smile as Ryland lit up the candles on the cake.
The cake was minimalistic. There wasn't much going on other than the alternating colors of the frosting around the base and crown of the cake. The cake itself had a plain white frosting coat. There was, of course, a happy birthday message scribbled across the surface of the cake in blue and yellow—consistent with the colors on the rest of the cake.
Ryland didn't order cakes often—or ever really. The last time he had, it was for a school event he organized in lieu of the science fair that had been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances.
"Where did you get this?" Ryland asked as he lit the last of the two candles on the cake.
Wait—two?
Colt always liked candles—Ryland couldn't fathom why Colt loved them so much, but it was standard for Colt to insist on a minimum of eight candles. Four for each of them to blow out. So for him to have only two candles and not push for more was…unusual.
"Two candles?" Ryland observed, and he didn't admit it, but he was a bit disappointed. He hadn't realized having so many candles on their cake was what made their birthday—well…their birthday. It felt almost like a tradition.
Colt waved a rather small box that Ryland assumed held the candle. Each candle had come in a separate box. Odd.
"They're special!"
"Or so they say," Courtland drawled.
"No bad juju," Colt hushed, putting a silencing finger up to Court.
Ryland swallowed a laugh.
Colt redirected the attention in the room back to the small candle box with a gentle shake of the contents. From the sound of it, it was only padding since Colt already took out the candle.
"This…is a wishing candle," Colt boasted.
"So a normal candle."
"Wishing candle."
"You wish on any candle."
Colt rolled his eyes and brought the box closer to his face to read the fine print. Truly, Ryland would never understand how Colt had better eyesight than him. It was the sunglasses. Had to be.
"It says," he dragged out the word with enthusiasm, "Under a full moon, light this candle and wish for what you want most. With a pure heart, your desires will come to fruition." Colt's smile faded as he narrowed his eyes for a moment, and that was all Ryland needed.
Colt got conned.
"Those are tacky instructions. Is it even a full moon? They were fifty bucks a piece too."
Ryland whipped around to Court with a bewildered look.
"I was in charge of getting the cake," He reasoned.
"It's fine, consider it my birthday gift," Colt shrugged.
"I'm flattered," Ryland deadpanned. "Did you even ask what you were buying?!"
"Of course I did! They said it'd make any wish come true! So why not?"
"You don't drop a hundred bucks on a wish!"
"I just did, so I don't know what you're talking about."
Ryland put his face in his hands, regulating himself with a deep, deep breath. He glanced at Court, who gave him nothing more than a dejected sigh.
"Okay—okay," Ryland puffed.
The singing of happy birthday went off with a hitch—Colt threw a wrench in the moment when a simple misplaced swallow left him dry choking. It didn't take long for him to recollect himself, and they carried on where they left off.
The wishing was the difficult part.
The candles weren't real. Ryland knew that.
Though, still, risking wishing for something like Colt to trip over his own feet whenever he attempted to crash his class felt too risky now. Colt seemed to have little to no trouble at all deciding what to wish for—Ryland would bet his entire fortune it had something to do with Jody and perhaps their upcoming wedding.
Should he wish for something similar? His eyes were closed, but he could feel the four eyes on him as he thought of his own wish.
Wishing was never this stressful—it didn't come true. And besides, you forget what you wish for by the time you wake up the next morning, so really what was the point?
He didn't need to think so hard about it.
But…
With the off chance that this candle really did grant wishes…
He wished for a lover.
He opened his eyes and was met with Colt's gaze. They both leaned in to blow out the candle, and the regret was almost immediate.
Seriously? A lover? He could have wished for a job offer so good he'd retire within a year.
Then again, it wasn't going to happen. A wish as silly as that was alright.
"Gifts?" Colt asked.
Ryland and Court hummed in unison.
***
Ryland was a morning person.
That was a lie. He only ever woke up early because he had to, but repeating that every morning would one day trick his brain into actually enjoying mornings. Like positive affirmations—it was basically a positive affirmation. Hopefully.
Colt and Courtland had left for their hotel near midnight. Ryland had offered to let them stay, but they insisted on giving him space. But they were missing their family as well—he couldn't blame them. They had assured him they'd be back early morning, around nine am, with Jody and Claire so they could all celebrate.
Ryland couldn't say he didn't like the idea of that. He had met Jody a handful of times. Sometimes, over the phone, Colt will run off somewhere to do something, but instead of hanging up, he'll hand him over to Jody. They've gotten to be pretty close, and Ryland can see why Colt speaks so highly of her.
She was incredibly kind.
Claire, on the other hand, was more of a stranger to Ryland.
They had also met a handful of times, but other than face-to-face interactions, neither Colt nor Ryland really got to speak to her. She was sassy and a bit over the top at times, and that just happened to be what Ryland loved about her. She wasn't shy; that also made her frightening.
After his brothers left his apartment the night prior, Ryland was exhausted. Though he managed to pull together his apartment a bit more and lessen the load for himself.
He was currently sweeping after tidying up his bedroom.
He didn't love cleaning, that was for sure, but he'd be lying if he said it wasn't necessary, especially for a guy like him. In the living room alone, he had found at least five items he had thought he lost (which technically he did)
Things never tend to just 'resurface' for him; he had to look for it. And looking for it in Ryland terms just meant cleaning.
Though the torture he endured while cleaning was worth it when he got to bask in the aftermath of a deep clean. Clean floors, surfaces, made bed—he swore his stovetop started twinkling when he opened up his curtains.
There was really no beating the euphoria you feel when you complete a task you've been putting off for so long. And now he got to kick back and relax till—
Rap-rap-rap
Ryland's feet hardly hit the coffee table before he heard the light knock on his door. Matter of fact, he had sat down for maybe three seconds.
So much for relaxation.
He stood up and quickly made his way to the door. In passing, he checked the clock on his stove. There was still an hour before his brothers should be arriving. Colt was never early—that never changed. Even in adulthood. But Court was punctual; maybe it was his doing.
Ryland pulled open the door and began speaking before he really even got a look at who was there. "Colt, you're early for onc—holy…cow."
For a moment, he believed he was seeing things.
The man that stood before him was…sweet mother of pearl.
Dark tousled hair was actually the last thing that Grace noticed, and that was saying something because, dear lord, his hair looked good. It complimented the rest of him, and well—he quite liked the rest of him.
"Colt?"
Definitely not.
Sharp jaw, warm and inviting chestnut eyes, broad shoulders, and a physique that his loose black t-shirt did nothing to hide. Even loose was a generous word to describe his shirt. It was loose in some places, but tight—and he meant tight in others, and he had to admit that was not a complaint.
The man waved a hand in front of Ryland's face. The man's eyebrows came together in concern, and Ryland (stupidly) took the opportunity to follow the wrinkle that appeared down past the broad bridge of his nose—it was slightly crooked from what Ryland assumed was previous injuries.
"Ry?"
His lips were smooth, hyd—..
What.
"You are?" Ryland questioned. While admiring this man's beauty was great, it was concerning that this stranger he had only met a minute ago knew his name. And Ryland couldn't be swayed with looks alone.
He had standards.
The man let out an amused scoff.
This man was meeting his standards.
"Is that supposed to be a joke?" His smile was bold, but cute. The man brought attention to what was in his hands. One of the things Ryland overlooked. Yet he had no problem studying everything else in detail.
He was usually more professional, more collected.
This was unlike him.
It truly was.
He was ashamed.
The man held a present wrapped in golden paper and a traditional white ribbon to top it off. In the bottom left corner, there was a birthday gift tag that read 'To: Ryland,' and "From: Simon." Ryland duly noted the heart that seemed to be drawn on by Simon(?) himself.
This man's name was Simon(?), but that hardly answered any of his questions.
Looking at him closer, Ryland noticed the snowflakes that littered his body—how was he not shivering? Did he walk here? Why was he wearing a t-shirt in this weather? How did he know Ryland's name, and how was he aware it was his birthday?
He had more questions than answers at the moment, but there was a nagging feeling that told him this was far more complicated than what he was prepared for.
Simon's smile faltered as he studied Ryland's expression. He noticed the suspicion in his eyes, and it fell completely.
He wasn't bigger than Ryland height-wise—in everything else, yeah, probably.
Simon cocked his head with confusion, "Simon, you know?" His tone earlier was certain, but now it seemed to have gained apprehension.
"Your boyfriend."
Now it was Ryland's turn to let out an amused scoff. His smile held until he realized Simon was dead serious. Simon was looking at him with genuine concern, and Ryland was starting to think he was actually crazy, maybe dreaming.
"Come again?"
Simon nodded slowly before repeating himself in earnest, "I'm your partner. Have been since October."
Ryland flexed his fingers, examining them to make sure all ten were accounted for. He stepped forward to reach out and touch Simon but paused midway—he didn't know this person; touching them would be…unconventional.
But that hardly mattered now. Simon had misinterpreted Ryland's outstretched hand and pressed his own palm to Ryland's. Their fingers intertwined easily—too easily. And Ryland was more freaked out by the fact he totally went with it.
Simon offered a gentle squeeze, and he had to admit, it settled his nerves a bit.
Ryland was always a big hand holder—at least when he had a girlfriend.
Partner…
Wasn't this…his wish?
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
First off, he didn't expect it to actually come true! It was a dinky candle that Colt, sure, got for a whopping fifty bucks, but still off some random con artist on the street! It wasn't meant to actually do anything!
Second, when he wished for a partner, if he was being honest, he was expecting a woman. He was very, very pleasantly surprised nonetheless.
What was he saying?
This man wasn't—he was just confused. He was a confused man that has an early onset of Alzheimer's.
Most likely case scenario.
…
Who was he kidding?
"Ryland," Simon whispered. Ryland couldn't tell what the hell he was feeling right now, but Simon's hand was absolutely freezing. Ryland's gaze found Simon's quickly—he had already been looking at Ryland with too much concern in his eyes.
It pained him to know he was making this man worry.
Why?
He had no clue.
"Are you cold? You're covered in snow," Ryland bit his lip. This man was obviously convinced he was Ryland's partner. He had his suspicions, and he needed to talk to him more to confirm them. At the moment, he isn't sure if he wants those damned magic candles to be real.
Simon pulled his hand away from Ryland's and brought it to his face. It covered the better part of his face, but he dropped it after smoothing his eyebrows with a sigh. Simon nodded, and Ryland stepped to the side, inviting him in.
***
"Let me get this straight."
Simon was situated on Ryland's couch with a warm mug of coffee. Ryland had never considered the thought that Simon might be a stalker till Simon insisted on helping when Ryland mentioned coffee and he strangely knew where everything was.
Ryland wasn't interesting enough to be stalked.
Or so he thought.
Aside from the coffee to warm him up, Ryland also offered Simon his fox cardigan and a towel, which he gladly took and was now wrapped up in. The sight had an unfamiliar warmth well up in his chest that he decided to ignore until further notice.
"You moved in next door, into the apartment that's been empty for years, last February. I helped you move your stuff in, and you took me for dinner as a thank you. And from there we hung out till I finally built up the courage to ask you out on a real date five months ago."
Simon nodded. And somehow, breaking it all down like that made things even more confusing.
"And we've been dating ever since?"
"Yes, Ry," Simon sighed.
"Did you breathe in something you weren't 'pposed to at work? I know you work with chemicals sometimes." Simon's words came from a place of genuine concern. Ryland could tell he was itching to tell him to sit down—as he had been for the past twenty minutes, but Ryland was completely fine.
Physically.
"I'm not your boyfriend—I don't know what's going on," Ryland said with an exasperated breath. He was pacing in front of the couch. He spared a glance at Simon, who seemed a bit crestfallen at his words, but he needed to understand where he was coming from.
Simon stood up from the couch and intercepted Ryland's pacing. Before Ryland knew what was going on, warmth flooded his palms as he held Simon's mug.
And he was sitting.
On the couch.
Simon was towering over him, hands on Ryland's shoulders. "Calm down, would ya'?"
"I'm trying—"
"Drink the coffee." His tone made it obvious there was no room for argument or compromise—he was a teacher for hell's sake. There was always room for compromise.
Yet he reluctantly did as he was told.
Simon pulled away with a seemingly satisfied grunt and straightened himself. He didn't say anything more, and it didn't look like he was going to anytime soon. He was content just watching Ryland slowly down the coffee that was a tad too bitter for his tastes.
It wasn't supposed to be his in the first place, but Simon wasn't going to take it back; he made that much obvious.
"You're…" Ryland petered out after a minute or two of silence, and Simon eyed him curiously as if to urge him to finish his sentence, "…my boyfriend?"
Ryland wasn't believing the words that were leaving his mouth, but he didn't want to dismiss them either. After a moment to think and some coffee, he realized it would just be better to go in with an open mind.
Simon didn't look to be a patient person, but looks could be deceiving. He was kind and exceptionally patient when it came to Ryland. He could deduce that much.
"Yeah. But if you don't remember, I see how that could freak you out," Simon intoned, shifting his weight awkwardly. He broke Ryland's gaze for a moment, but it came back as quickly as it left.
Ryland's lips parted as though he wanted to speak but ultimately let the silence stretch on.
His mind was in a frenzy. Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was the crazy one or if it was Simon who had a few screws loose—due to bias, obviously he was still clinging pretty hard to the latter.
"I…don't want to leave you like this," Simon murmured, "So…please, don't ask me to leave."
"That's a big ask."
"I know."
"You say that like you know I'm going to say yes."
"Are you?"
"I don't know!" Ryland snapped, "I don't know. This is making my head hurt."
Simon's shoulders fell as he let out a deep exhale. Simon took a seat on Ryland's right and pulled off Ryland's glasses carefully. He folded the arms in and set them down on the coffee table. While he wasn't pleased with the fact that the world was now that much blurrier, he had to admit it helped elevate the pain.
"I-…What do you need me to do?" Simon shook his head slowly as if he was at a loss for words, "I'm your boyfriend—or whatever you want to call me. Point is, I care about—"
"Oh."
Both Simon and Ryland gave pause at the new voice. Ryland's gaze slowly made its way to the source of the noise and—
Courtland.
And Colt.