“Me, too. Are you going out tonight?” He turns with two bowls and gestures to the plates of avocado and arepas. Assuming he wants me to take them, I do and follow him to the dining room.
“No, I’ll probably go back to bed early. Pen will be here at two, so I want to get a few hours in if I can.” We take our normal seats across from each other, and the familiarity is both a blessing and a curse. I try hard to ignore the heaviness and just absorb the moment with him. If this is my last time sharing a meal with him, I don’t want to miss a single moment.
“You’re going to do amazing things in London. I know this move isn’t what you wanted, but if anyone can make the best of a situation, it’s you.” His gaze is intense, like he’s peeling back all of my layers. I study my bowl, because meeting his eyes makes me feel so exposed.
“I don’t think that’s true, actually. I tend to make a mess of things. I don’t even have the passion for it anymore, Dare. I’m scared. I feel so off-kilter and disconnected from what my life was supposed to be. I’m worried about being closer to my parents. I don’t know who I even am when I’m not here. In this city. In this house. With you.” I blink rapidly, in an attempt to prevent the tears threatening to fall. I know he was trying to have a nice last night, which is far more than I deserve, and I’m ruining it by talking about all the ways I’m fucked up.
“For all your confidence, you have very little faith in yourself. You’ll be ok on your own, Harlan. You don’t need Brooklyn or the L&L office here, and you definitely don’t need me to define who you are. I’d change all of it for you if I could. I know you know that, but you can’t let these circumstances hold you back. Set boundaries with your family. You don’t need an oceanbetween you to do that.” We fall into a weighted silence after that while we eat our meals. I’m not sure what else to say.
When we’ve finished, I look up at him for what is likely the last time. “Thank you for this. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m grateful. For the meal. For you. I’m sorry I let such a stupid decision ruin the last few weeks we would have had together, for ruining everything, really. You deserve so much more than what I did to you.” I take our plates to the kitchen to rinse before placing them in the dishwasher. I’m acutely aware that it’s now the last time I will do so many things that have become routine over the last few years. It’s ridiculous that loading the dishwasher is making me sad. I have always hated kitchen cleanup.
I’m not sure where Dare is as I flip off the kitchen light and head toward the stairs. I want to run to him, say goodbye, and hold on to him until Penelope drags me out of here in the morning. I also want to hide in my room and not face him because I have absolutely no idea how I can say goodbye to this man. Every single second brings me closer to getting on that plane, and the realization that I’m out of time washes over me in a tidal wave of regret and despair. When I get to my room, I close the door and fall face-first into the bed.
I debatedfor far too long whether I was going to cook for Harlan on his last night. I’ve been sleeping like shit since I came home from LA. I’m missing him the way I’d miss air when I climb into our bed every night. I am so sick of crying, and yet, it’s what I’ve done more than practically anything else. I did my best to avoid him over the last week or so when the team wasn’t traveling. I’d be at the gym, or at AJ’s, or wandering aimlessly around Brooklyn until I was sure he was in bed. I don’t think there’s been a night, barring last night, that I haven’t heard him crying when I get upstairs. Hearing that hasn’t gotten easier. It adds salt to the festering wound each and every time.
Helping him pack was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I couldn’t even be in the bedroom with him while he emptied it of all of his things. Watching him clear out the space that belonged to both of us was too much. I heard him crying in the closet and almost caved, but I’m barely managing my own grief; I can’t help him with his. Not least of all, because I’m so fucking angry that he did this to us.
Even with the hurt and anger, the thought of him leaving is devastating. Telling him we couldn’t be friends nearly broke me, but I need the distance. I’m not sure I realized how co-dependent we were. Or maybe it’s something else entirely, but I know that I’ve forgotten who I am as a person. My life has been Harlan and baseball, and they’re always prioritized in that order. And regardless of whether he was leaving or not, he broke my trust. My one and only nonnegotiable. I can’t think straight when he’s around, so I know I need a clean break.
I hid in the living room when Harlan cleaned up dinner, unsure what to say to him. His departure is looming like a storm cloud, and the air is thick with tension and grief between the two of us. I know I have to see him before he goes; I just don’t know if my heart can handle it. His door is closed when I reach the landing upstairs, so I approach it quietly, but don’t make a move to open it.
Leaning my forehead against the cool mahogany door, I can hear his sobs on the other side. My own tears start to fall without permission.Fuck.How could something so perfect turn into this? I don’t know how long I stand outside his room, replaying our relationship like a movie reel. Our first date at a quiet pizza place in Brooklyn. Seeing him in my jersey in the stands at the stadium. Watching his photoshoots, or the way his face lights up when he creates a new design. My family falling in love with him the same way I did. Lazy nights at home with him in my clothes. The way his body was made for mine. How perfectly he fits against me at night, and the way he buries his nose in my neck when we go to sleep.
Without giving it too much thought, I quietly open the door. He’s curled up under his blanket, holding the hood of my sweatshirt to his nose, and his body is shaking with sobs. I don’t know if he’s heard me or not, but I approach the bed and lie down behind him. “Sweetness, come here.” Tugging hisbody against mine, his sobs get louder. Rolling over to face me, he buries his nose in my neck. The familiarity of our positions twists the knife even deeper. I stroke his mess of curls off his forehead while he cries.
“I can’t do this, Dare. I can’t fucking leave you.” His body shudders against mine.
“Baby, you have to leave. You can do hard things, Harlan.” I rub my hand up and down his spine, memorizing the feel of him in my arms. Something settles in me, something deep that I can’t identify. When his body is near mine, everything feels…complete. I don’t acknowledge that this will be the last time I hold him close. If I think too hard about it, I may not let him leave. As much as I want him to stay, I desperately need him to go.
“I hate that I did this to us. I hate that you’re angry with me. That I’m going to get on that plane tomorrow morning, and that’s it for us. How do I live a life that doesn’t include you?” His crying has gone from sobs to quiet tears, and he attempts to get closer. I hold him a little tighter as he slides one of his legs between mine. His face is buried under my chin, and his arms are wrapped around me, leaving no space between us. Our bodies are like magnets that way; they always find their way to each other.
“I don’t want tonight to be about that, ok? We can’t change what happened. We can only control what choices we make moving forward.” I don’t tell him that I’m also falling apart. That I haven’t had a moment of peace since the night I came home from LA. I don’t tell him that I’m not sure how to live my life without him, without the most essential part of me.
“You don’t want to talk to me. I’m not being given a choice.” His voice breaks, and I expect him to start sobbing again. He doesn’t, but his breath is shaky, and his voice is watery with tears.
“You made a choice that night, Harlan. I need to protect my heart. I don’t know what the future holds for either of us, but I know that I’ll be cheering you on no matter what.” I kiss his forehead, and he tilts his head up to meet my gaze. I know what he wants, and it’s an awful idea. Completely stupid and irresponsible. His blue eyes are shining with tears, but there’s also hope, regret, and love staring back at me. He hesitates, waiting for me to decide. And fuck, I can’t help it. Meeting him the rest of the way, our lips pick up right where they left off. Nothing matters at this moment. Not what he did. Not where he’s going. No one else, only us.
He sighs in relief as his tongue seeks entry to my mouth. I don’t stop to consider the consequences as I deepen the kiss while I shift him to his back so that my body is pressed against his. His mouth feels like home, and I settle into the familiarity of it all. His fingers thread through my hair, tugging me closer.
Keeping a firm hold on one hip, I use my other hand to make contact with his skin wherever I can reach. Moving from his lips, I kiss down his jawline to the curve of his neck. The familiar taste of his skin has me buzzing with anticipation. The chemistry between us hasn’t subsided at all. I’m not sure it ever will.
There is something intense, something entirely primal about the way we are together. I’m not sure of a lot where Harlan is concerned, but I am sure that I’ll never find this type of connection with anyone else. It feels impossible. People spend their entire lives searching and failing to find their perfect match. Their other half. Harlan is mine. Harlanwasmine.
He lets out a needy moan, his erection pressing insistently into my thigh. I wish my mouth could erase his sins; undo the damage he did to us. If kissing him like this could freeze time, I’d never stop. I nibble at the junction where his neck meets his shoulder, battling for space with his hoodie. I need to taste all of him.
“Dare, please.” I know what he’s asking; I just don’t know if I can give it to him. I’m not sure either of us can survive it. Giving in to this will lay waste to what’s left of my heart. It’s already bleeding out all over this house. If we do this, I’m not sure I’ll ever get it to stop. I’m finding it difficult to care about that right now, though.
“Harlan, we can’t. I can’t.” I want to. I want him. I’m so hard, it hurts. Everything fucking hurts. It can’t mean anything. This won’t change the inevitable. Itcan’tchange anything, even if the words, the ones that beg him to stay, are burning the back of my throat.
“Just for tonight, please. Please let us have this. I know it doesn’t change anything. Iknowthat.” He can read me so well, of course he knew. I’ve never been good at saying no to him.
“It can’t change anything, sweetness. I’m trying to do the right thing for both of us, and it’s not easy.” He’s grinding against me, his skin under my hand on fire. “Fuck, Harlan.” I tighten my grip on him, hard enough that he’ll probably bruise. His skin is so soft, his body so pliant and desperate for me. My resolve is slipping, and I’m about to send us both plummeting to the bottom of this pit of despair.
“I’m a big boy. I understand it doesn’t fix anything, but I need you inside of me.” He pushes my chest until he has me on my back. He snakes his way down my body, taking my joggers down as he goes. “Tell me this is ok.” His blue eyes are shining with want. I soak in the image of him between my legs; beautiful, desperate, and needy.
“Ok, baby.” The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s mouthing at my cock through my briefs. “Christ,” I growl. He uses one hand to tug on my balls and the other to rub my thigh. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have left to let him explore.
After too much teasing, he slides my underwear off, settling back between my legs. Taking my balls into his mouth one at a time, he moans while stroking me from root to tip. He nuzzles into my groin, inhaling me as though he needs me to survive. “Jesus, Harlan. Your mouth,” I rasp.
