to be gone this long." He paused. "The feds were watching you. It probably kept you safe from - other people."
Tristan gaped at him. "How do you know that?"
"Do you really think I would leave you and not make sure you were looked after?" Nicolas said softly.
"I don't know what to think."
Nicolas' face fell imperceptibly, but Tristan caught the slight tightening in his jaw, the droop in his eyes. "I came back for you, Tristan." He held his gaze. " Only for you . I want you to come with me."
"You want... I..." Tristan swallowed nervously, but took a step forward. Nicolas matched him.
"Do you still love me, Tristan?" Nicolas asked him steadily. "I'm not a cruel man. I'll let you go if you don't."
Tristan didn't know what to say. "I was so scared," he said. "I was terrified. I didn't know who to call - or - or if there was anyone I could call. I didn't know if you were dead in a ditch somewhere or if you'd just," he licked his lips nervously, "if you'd just left me."
"Oh, baby, never," Nicolas said.
"And I wanted to hate you," he continued, hoarse. His eyes were filling with tears. "I wanted to hate you for putting me through all of that, but I couldn't, Nicolas, I couldn't hate you because I still love you, damnit, and I don't - I don't think I could ever stop. And that scares me, too."
He made an abortive step forward, but he wasn't sure, on tenterhooks after being away from him for so long, after just telling the man he loved that he tried to hate him, but Nicolas didn't do anything. He didn't say anything nasty, or hurtful, or accusatory, he only opened his arms. And Tristan closed the distance between them, stepping into the protective circle of Nicolas' arm and clinging tightly.
They stood like that for a long moment, Tristan's silent tears soaking into Nicolas' shirt, Nicolas' reserved features openly announcing his own heartbreak, but they couldn't stand there all afternoon. Nicolas pulled back somewhat regretfully, tangling his fingers into Tristan's mane of hair to hold him steady while they spoke. "Hey," Nicolas said, and used his other hand to wipe at the dampness under Tristan's eyes. "It's okay, love. It's going to be alright." He took a deep breath. "But we can't stay here, Tristan."
Tristan sniffled a bit, trying to get himself back under control. How embarrassing , he thought. I can't even hold it together for five minutes! "What do you mean?" he croaked at last.
Nicolas pressed a fierce, commanding kiss to his lips in lieu of an answer, and Tristan submitted to him gracefully, his mouth opened to the harsh press of Nicolas' lips. When they finally broke apart again, both of them panting and wide eyed, Nicolas said, "I can't stay here, Tristan. In this town, in this state - in this country . Not right now. And what I need to know is," he took a breath, his blue eyes piercing as they looked into Tristan's, "will you come with me?"
*
"Nana, how did you keep going? When Pap died?" Tristan didn't turn to look at her. He was too busy staring out the window with gaunt, haggard eyes, just like he'd done from the moment he'd gotten there and kissed her hello perfunctorily on her cheek.
"Is this about your young man?" she asked him, startled.
"...maybe."
She leaned over and swatted him gently with her Bible. "It either is or it isn't, Tristan," she said sternly, but then softened. "Did something happen to him?"
He blew out a sigh. "I don't know, Nana. He's not - he's missing. And I don't know who to call or where to look and I - " His voice broke off. "He could have just left. I don't know. I don't know if he's left me or if he's just - gone - and I - Nana, I don't know what to do!"
"Have you tried the police?" she asked gently.
He struggled for a moment, his mouth opening and closing several times before he turned to look her straight in the face. "He's done things, Nana," he said finally, softly. "I don't think the police would help."
The old woman's eyes widened and her mouth went slack, but then
Tristan gaped at him. "How do you know that?"
"Do you really think I would leave you and not make sure you were looked after?" Nicolas said softly.
"I don't know what to think."
Nicolas' face fell imperceptibly, but Tristan caught the slight tightening in his jaw, the droop in his eyes. "I came back for you, Tristan." He held his gaze. " Only for you . I want you to come with me."
"You want... I..." Tristan swallowed nervously, but took a step forward. Nicolas matched him.
"Do you still love me, Tristan?" Nicolas asked him steadily. "I'm not a cruel man. I'll let you go if you don't."
Tristan didn't know what to say. "I was so scared," he said. "I was terrified. I didn't know who to call - or - or if there was anyone I could call. I didn't know if you were dead in a ditch somewhere or if you'd just," he licked his lips nervously, "if you'd just left me."
"Oh, baby, never," Nicolas said.
"And I wanted to hate you," he continued, hoarse. His eyes were filling with tears. "I wanted to hate you for putting me through all of that, but I couldn't, Nicolas, I couldn't hate you because I still love you, damnit, and I don't - I don't think I could ever stop. And that scares me, too."
He made an abortive step forward, but he wasn't sure, on tenterhooks after being away from him for so long, after just telling the man he loved that he tried to hate him, but Nicolas didn't do anything. He didn't say anything nasty, or hurtful, or accusatory, he only opened his arms. And Tristan closed the distance between them, stepping into the protective circle of Nicolas' arm and clinging tightly.
They stood like that for a long moment, Tristan's silent tears soaking into Nicolas' shirt, Nicolas' reserved features openly announcing his own heartbreak, but they couldn't stand there all afternoon. Nicolas pulled back somewhat regretfully, tangling his fingers into Tristan's mane of hair to hold him steady while they spoke. "Hey," Nicolas said, and used his other hand to wipe at the dampness under Tristan's eyes. "It's okay, love. It's going to be alright." He took a deep breath. "But we can't stay here, Tristan."
Tristan sniffled a bit, trying to get himself back under control. How embarrassing , he thought. I can't even hold it together for five minutes! "What do you mean?" he croaked at last.
Nicolas pressed a fierce, commanding kiss to his lips in lieu of an answer, and Tristan submitted to him gracefully, his mouth opened to the harsh press of Nicolas' lips. When they finally broke apart again, both of them panting and wide eyed, Nicolas said, "I can't stay here, Tristan. In this town, in this state - in this country . Not right now. And what I need to know is," he took a breath, his blue eyes piercing as they looked into Tristan's, "will you come with me?"
*
"Nana, how did you keep going? When Pap died?" Tristan didn't turn to look at her. He was too busy staring out the window with gaunt, haggard eyes, just like he'd done from the moment he'd gotten there and kissed her hello perfunctorily on her cheek.
"Is this about your young man?" she asked him, startled.
"...maybe."
She leaned over and swatted him gently with her Bible. "It either is or it isn't, Tristan," she said sternly, but then softened. "Did something happen to him?"
He blew out a sigh. "I don't know, Nana. He's not - he's missing. And I don't know who to call or where to look and I - " His voice broke off. "He could have just left. I don't know. I don't know if he's left me or if he's just - gone - and I - Nana, I don't know what to do!"
"Have you tried the police?" she asked gently.
He struggled for a moment, his mouth opening and closing several times before he turned to look her straight in the face. "He's done things, Nana," he said finally, softly. "I don't think the police would help."
The old woman's eyes widened and her mouth went slack, but then
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