“Just came for dessert,” he said, trying to not let his stare linger on Ben, but it was just so good to see him. He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Ben.”
“Hi,” Ben rasped.
“Are you well?”
Ben licked his lips, pulling them between his teeth and nodding.
“Good. I…” Thomas bit the inside of his cheek. “I won’t keep you. Good seeing you, Lara.”
He moved past them quickly, slipping inside and ordering his gelato. Thomas didn’t even want it anymore, his entire body tense from seeing Ben and soured from not being able to grab him and kiss him silly. But he took it anyway and snuck out of the shop without paying Ben and Lara any more mind than a quick nod of his head. He wasn’t trying to be mean or rude. He was only trying to respect Ben’s wishes.
Even if he hated them.
Thomas got back to his apartment and collapsed inside his door, not even closing it before his knees gave out. He slid down the wall, his legs straightening in front of him, his already melting cup of gelato in his hand. He let his arms fall to his sides and he closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath, trying to still his heart, trying to face the prospect of saying goodbye to the first man he’d ever loved.
“You walk fast.”
Ben’s voice startled him and he flailed in what was most certainly an inelegant way, the cup of gelato falling onto his thigh and then leaking down onto the floor.
He lurched forward, scooping what he could back into the cup so it didn’t stain the carpet.
“I was trying to give you space,” he muttered. Thomas went into the kitchen to get a sponge and towel, returning to find his gelato still on the floor and Ben still in the doorway. He cleaned what he could, making note of the nervous way Ben shifted his weight from foot to foot in silence.
“Did you want to come in?” he finally asked, gathering his mess and taking it back to the kitchen.
Ben didn’t answer; he just stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Thomas dumped everything in the sink and wiped his hands on the front of his shorts.
“Did you want a drink or something?”
Ben chuckled, giving him a tired smile. “That’s what I asked you the night we met.”
“And I said no.”
“I won’t,” Ben said, taking a step toward the kitchen before stopping. Thomas closed his eyes, one hand braced against the edge of the countertop for support.
“Everything’s where you remember,” he said, gesturing toward the fridge. “It’s not like I rearranged everything after we…”
Ben winced, but nodded. He joined Thomas in the kitchen, pulling the almost empty bottle of wine from the fridge and getting a glass from the cupboard. He emptied the bottle and took a tentative sip, eyes locked on Thomas’s wavering form.
“How have things been?” Ben asked.
Thomas snorted, so uninterested in pleasantries, but not sure what else to say or do in the moment. “Not great.”
“Did you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ben. I don’t know what you want from me.” He brushed past Ben and out of the kitchen. He caught a whiff of Ben’s natural musk and he had half a mind to ask him to go lay down on the bed, just so the sheets would smell like him again.
“I just…are you okay? Have you talked to…”
“No, I haven’t talked to Dakota,” he said, returning to the couch because he didn’t know where else to go. “I haven’t talked to Kenzie. I left Jennifer a scathing voicemail calling every decision she’s ever made into question, but for some reason she didn’t call me back. The only person I’ve talked to is Trent.”
“His husband.” Ben sat on the other end of the couch, far enough away someone would have assumed they were strangers.
“I wanted to make sure he was okay. I wanted to apologize to him.”
“For what? You didn’t do anything.”
He shot Ben a sharp look, and Ben’s cheeks flushed.
