Page 101 of Septembers

But then Dae pulled away.

Theo’s body moved with him, connected by whatever this was. As if it were now impossible for one to move without the other.

But apparently he’d gotten it wrong.

“Shit.” Dae detangled himself and slid away from him on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He couldn’t catch up. Couldn’t piece it together.

Dae ran a hand down his face, as if wiping the desire away, and all that was left now was horrified regret. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. You’re in distress, you’re not in your right mind, and I—” He stood abruptly, backing away from Theo like he was a growing hole in the floor, ready to swallow him up again. “I took advantage of… shit. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” His own voice came out as hollow and flat as he felt. Dae regretted it. Didn’t want him.

Dae retreated so far that his back hit the wall. “I’m not going to turn this into one of those things, one of those awful misunderstandings that’s not talked about, okay? I think we should probably—” He clutched his chest and took a few rapid breaths. “No, definitely need to talk about this, and figure out, I mean…” He winced, shaking his head. “I’m screwing this up. I’m just saying, later, okay? When you’re… And when I’m…”

Hope started to build again, ever so slowly, like a tiny, fragile flame flickering against a breeze. “When you’re able to finish a sentence?”

Dae let out a relieved breath, his pained expression lifting slightly. His face was flushed and his lips swollen. “Yes.”

Theo was still too shaky to stand, so they stayed there, staring at each other as the heat of the kiss transformed into something cool and uncertain.

Tara? His dad’s callous tone took one more tour around Theo’s head and he finally nodded. “You’re right. I wasn’t in my right mind. This was stupid.”

Not a mistake, not a regret, but definitely stupid, just as Dae had said. It needed more thought. Needed to be solid, needed to be a promise, and he couldn’t do that while he was a quivering mess on the floor.

Dae’s entire essence changed: breath even, muscles tense, jaw tight. “Right, so, until we figure it out, we’ll just go back to…”

“Finishing sentences.”

“Yeah.” Not a smile, exactly, but a release. A concession. “Friends.”

Not what Theo had meant, but he couldn’t argue. No matter what else they were, they would always be friends.

He somehow managed to stand and took a few unsteady steps towards his bedroom. “I knew I should’ve skipped today.”

No response. No movement. Dae stayed exactly where he was until Theo was in his room, door shut. It wasn’t until he was in his bed, a pillow clutched tight to his chest, the events of the day settling into his soul, that he began to cry.

Keeping his sobs quiet hurt his muscles, but he kept at it for a long time, trying to let everything out. But apparently crying wasn’t a magic cure for hurt and confusion, because his brain was still a scrambled mess, and his heart still ached.

Finishing Sentences

“So, we’re agreed, then? Back to normal?” Dae held his mug with both hands, intently focused on the floating tea bag. He stood at the kitchen counter in his gym shorts and a baggy sweater while Theo rearranged the pillows on Céline for no reason.

“Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

Dae must’ve stayed up all night crafting the speech he’d just given about being a thousand percent sure about what they wanted before they rushed into anything. It made sense. Theo had proven that all he was capable of were messy flings and heartbreak. Of course Dae was hesitant. Of course Theo couldn’t push him. He didn’t deserve to, not if he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t hurt him.

He would not do that to him.

Not Dae.

Despite the drapes fluttering with cool autumn wind, the living room felt stale and oppressive, and for the first time since he’d moved in, too small. He couldn’t get enough space between him and Dae, and he needed space, because all he wanted to do was kiss him again and again and again and again...

“Okay.” The word was completely neutral, and it gave Theo zero indication of how Dae felt.

He wasn’t completely obtuse. He’d catalogued all the moments through the years and squirrelled them away in the deepest recesses of his memory as proof that Dae was attracted to him; the looks that held too long, the touches that were a little too soft, the blush caused by thoughts that played across his face as his eyes devoured him.

But attraction wasn’t a declaration. It wasn’t trust. It wasn’t permission. And Theo needed all three before he would risk the best thing in his life.