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He has a key, why didn’t he just go inside?

He took Tristan’s arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet.

“Up you go.”

Tristan’s strong scent mixed with alcohol reached his nose.

“Leaf?” he mumbled against his shoulder as he stumbled into the apartment beside him.

“I’m here.”

Leaving the door open, he led Tristan through the bedroom into the bathroom, pulled aside the shower curtain, and positioned his beloved with his back against the wall. As he stepped back, Tristan had already slipped his fingers into his waistband and drew him closer.

“Don’t go,” he said in a barely audible voice, with his eyes closed. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not.” Leaf's voice was gentle as he approached, softly stroking Tristan's cheek.

“But you weren’t here.”

Tristan weakly held onto him and rested his forehead against his chin. Leaf was only a couple of inches taller, but Tristan could barely stand and kept sinking lower. Before he collapsed, Leaf tightened his arms around him.

Being close to him felt intoxicating, like a forbidden drug. Leaf had denied himself this for so long, convinced he didn’t deserve Tristan’s love. He was partly to blame for the whole disaster. For Milo’s death.

At that moment, Tristan slipped a hand into his neck and kissed him. Gentle, tender, like a breeze. Then he rested his forehead against Leaf’s and pulled him closer with his other hand. Their bodies pressed together, radiating warmth. Tristan’s breath on his lips caused him to shudder. Finally, Tristan opened his eyes and met his gaze.

Dark. Sad. Lonely.

“Why didn’t you come?”

“I’m sorry.” Leaf bowed his head in remorse. “I’m really sorry, I …”

“I know things aren’t the same as before.” Tristan got the words out slowly, one by one. “But … We … We can at least try.”

The words were like knives in Leaf’s heart. He would try anything for him, if only Tristan knew what he had done.

Tristan held him tight, as if he never wanted to let go. Leaf couldn’t resist—as much as he wanted to. Since Tristan had shown him this side for the first time, it had triggered in him this need to protect him. He gently caressed his black locks, breathing its familiar scent. The moment felt perfectly safe and intimate.

Eventually, Tristan slid his hands under his shirt and touched his skin. Kissed his neck and sought his mouth. A tingling sensation ran down Leaf’s spine, and he tilted his head back. Lust and desire surged within him. Just before their lips met, he turned on the shower by accident and the water cascaded down on them. Lip to lip, they laughed, and for a moment, it felt like the world was okay.

But the moment didn’t last long. As if Milo had suddenly stepped between them, reminding them there was nothing to laugh about, both pulled back and avoided each other’s eyes.

Breathless and startled.

Tristan fought back tears and ran a shaky hand through his wet locks. Still drunk, he looked around disoriented. The bandage on his arm was soaked through. Leaf made a sad face and gently stroked his lover’s neck.

“Come on, I’ll help you out of these clothes. You can lie down for a while.”

Tristan nodded and hung his head. Leaf removed his shirt and helped him out of his shoes and pants. As he lathered Tristan with soap, his own damp clothes became heavier, so he took off his shirt and kicked off his shoes.

Tristan’s body was, in a way, the opposite of his. Unlike his upper body, which was full of scars and tattoos, Tristan was flawless. He talked about getting a wolf tattooed on his shoulder someday, but his fear of needles was just too great. Somehow, Leaf was glad about that, because he loved his cream-colored skin.

As he reached for the shampoo, Tristan shut his eyes, only opening them again once Leaf had rinsed all the soap and turned off the water. Leaf then dried him off with a towel and helped him to bed. Tristan almost immediately fell asleep while Leaf applied a fresh bandage on him. Afterward, Leaf returned to the shower.

11

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Rehearsal