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“I know, I don’t want to bother him, I just brought this—”
“He doesn’t want anything from you,” Brendan said.
And Chris was on his feet and coming down the hall as he watched Brendan slamming the door.
“Jesus, Brendan,” Chris said and went to go by him.
“He’s leaving,” Brendan told him.
Chris ducked past him and opened the door.
Joq was there, looking around the porch like he was looking for something.
“Joq?” Chris asked.
“Chris,” Joq breathed his name out and something almost like a smile crossed his face before he buried it. “I’m not trying to bother you, I just needed to give you this and I’ll be out of your way.”
“He doesn’t need anything from you,” Brendan started up and Chris stepped outside and shut the door behind him.
“I’m not looking for anything here,” Joq said, his tone the usual calm one, but there was a note of fragility to it Chris had never heard before. He looked great in a white button up, tailored navy shorts, and as he pushed his blonde hair off his face and met Chris’ gaze hesitantly, he still managed to make Chris want him.
“I just came to give you this,” he held out a wrapped package. “I finished packing and I didn’t know what to do with it. I,” he shook his head, “I bought it for you that day, before I forgot about the dinner and well, it’s small and stupid, but I still think you might like it, so,” he shook it.
Chris knew he was staring; he couldn’t quite believe Joq was here. But as he looked closer at Joq’s face where he was flicking his gaze from the package to Chris’ collarbones, an uncharacteristic nervous tick, he saw as well he looked kind of shit. He’d imagined him fine, the same, enjoying the house and being his usual unruffled self but as he looked at him now, he realised he was far from fine.
Then he heard what he’d said.
“Packing? Are you going somewhere?”
“Oh, just back with the parents, you know,” Joq replied, still not meeting Chris’ eyes.
“Back with your parents? Why? I gave you the house. You love the house,” he frowned. “Don’t you?”
“I adore the house,” Joq replied, “but, c’mon, Chris, I’m not staying in your multimillion-dollar house. It’s fine, I’ll be fine. Mum’s excited to have me back, so.”
“Why don’t you go back to your St Kilda place?”
“I let the lease lapse,” he glanced away.
“When?”
“Ah, six months ago,” he shrugged.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Joq sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I,” he shook his head. “I don’t know.”
So, the last six months they were together, he didn’t have the back-up plan Chris thought he did? It had never bothered Chris—he had another place as well—but it had kind of been another foot out the door.
“Anyway, here,” he held the package out again. “I’ve given Terry the keys, she told me you were here.”
Chris nodded. She’d asked if he still wanted her to provide Joq with an ‘all access pass’ if he came by. Chris had been in his office when she asked, back to her, facing the windows. “Yes, of course,” he’d said quietly. He’d meant that; he wouldn’t use his money as a shield, he’d just never expected it to be relevant again.
Now, he was looking at Joq holding something out to him and feeling lost.
“Can you please take it so I can go,” Joq said softly.
Chris swallowed. He didn’t want to take it if it meant Joq would go.
