It's these little things, they can pull you under

[forthedog]

It's when they're cutting through Petros Park, the sun setting slowly through the naked trees, that he finally says something.

They could take a cab back and they still might at some point, but for now they're content enough to walk, and with the days so short and him sleeping so late these days, he likes being out in every minute of sunlight he can get, even sunlight that's thin with winter. And maybe he'd hoped that walking would distract him, getting him to stop mulling over things he can't change.

But of course he could never leave well enough alone.

"So," he says, hands in his pockets and his gaze still locked forward. The lights along the path are starting to come on. "You're still back there, huh?"

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[forthedog]

"I know. Shit, I know." He squeezes his eyes shut, pinches the bridge of his nose. He hasn't gotten headaches from his eye in a long time, but now one is threatening again.

He drops his hand away and focuses on Neil, on the way he looks close to cracking open. "You been carrying this around by yourself this whole time. Haven't you?"

[likeaplanet]

Shrugging awkwardly, I say, "When Olive told me I was still back there, it was easier, you know? I knew they were okay."

Scrubbing a hand across my mouth, I drag in a breath, finally forcing myself to look at him.

"I don't even know who they're with, now. I could ask Mathias, but... Shit, I dunno."

Maybe it's better, not knowing.

[forthedog]

"Does it matter? 'S not like we can fucking do anything, like you said." Part of him wants to know. Part of him doesn't. All of him knows it doesn't make any difference either way.

"Just..." He moves forward suddenly, reaches up and curls a hand around the side of Neil's neck, leaning closer. "Don't do that. Don't keep that kinda shit to yourself. That's not how we work now."

[likeaplanet]

"I know. I'm sorry," I breathe, my hand curling around the back of his neck and pulling him closer 'til his forehead touches mine.

"I didn't really wanna think about it, honestly."

[forthedog]

"Yeah, I bet." He goes quiet for another few minutes, just standing like that, grounding himself. There's nothing, nothing he can do. If that should be comforting, it isn't, but it is what it is.

"I know I'm still... weird about 'em. I'm sorry."

[likeaplanet]

"That's another reason why I didn't really wanna talk about it," I admit with a cough of laughter, my eyes drifting shut.

"It's okay, you know? I mean, it's not okay, but I get it."

[forthedog]

"I wish it wasn't like that." Because Neil's right: it's not okay. There's a lot about him that feels, if not fixed, at least hammered into a shape that he can live with. But this doesn't feel sustainable. It never has.

"They were the most important part of me, once. I remember that."

[likeaplanet]

"I know you do," I murmur, wishing there was some way I could remind him, some way I could bring it all back, but I can't.

"We're standin' in the middle of the street, you know," I remind him when some guy brushes past us, my arms sliding around Mike's neck and pulling him close. "We oughta go home."

[forthedog]

"Yeah," he sighs, looking up and around like he'd forgotten, because he pretty much had. "I guess, I gotta be at work in a couple hours."

Nothing feels resolved. Not even close. But it's not like there's exactly any way for that to change.

[likeaplanet]

"Right," I say with a deep breath, stepping away from him but slipping my hand into his.

"You could always call out. Unless you think they'd fall apart without you."

[forthedog]

"Oh, fuck, yeah, none of the girls'd be able to find their goddamn g-strings," he mutters. But the idea has appeal. Work feels distant and unimportant - everything sort of does, and while he feels integrated enough most of the time, suddenly it's though every piece of him has been jarred slightly out of place.

Or like there's a piece missing that he suddenly can't ignore.

He gives Neil's hand a slight squeeze. "So what would I be calling out for?"

[likeaplanet]

"Do you need a specific reason?" I ask, lifting our joined hands and pressing my lips to his knuckles. "Kinda just wanted to spend the night with you, is all."

After all the shit that's been stirred up tonight, it feels weird having him run off to work.

[forthedog]

"That works." He doesn't feel like working. He likes the club, likes the dancers, likes the atmosphere... but not tonight. Too loud, too crowded. He wants beer, pizza... Neil.

Not too much thinking.

"I'll call when we get in."