A/N: Legitimately just word vomit mixed in with some pretty vocabulary to look presentable. I should feel guilty for even publishing this with the expectation of reviews. But...I'm...not. Hopefully something real on the way.
Upon Reflection
At first, it's difficult to even approach him with the guise of causality. His attraction to men is something that he's only been subconsciously aware of until now, something that hovered over him without him being able to see or touch. Adam senses this. So it's only too easy for him to take him by the hands and kiss him practically purple, kiss him until the taste of tobacco has been soaked into his skin. It's an unorthodox approach, but it works.
He finds that he quite likes that about him.
Maybe he'll even fall in love with him.
Their first time together is anything but lusty and overly romantic. He is nervous, yet Adam is a wreck, and it shows in both of their jittery gestures. Limbs tangle, joints bump together in uncomfortable places, and at one point Adam's blushing goes from being sexy to a cause for concern. But they manage to pull it off. Trembling touches and the occasional curious glance combine in a burst of fireworks, until they both find what they're looking for.
It was flawed, but it was fulfilling. They're going to have plenty of chances to make up for it.
Sometimes he feels the delicacy of the path on which they tread, the fragility of this little patch of bliss that they've built for themselves. When that happens, all he wants to do is hold him, press his face into his chest the way Adam has already burrowed his way into his. He feels stronger, then. He feels like he can hold this shaking peace and help it live.
It takes him a moment, but then he realizes that he's already fallen in love with him.
There are a lot of clinical terms for what they are. Phrases like post traumatic this and hyperousal that that are blunt and awkward when they bubble up in his mouth. It's a wonder that he encountered these words for so long at his work without giving much thought to them. So he decides to let them glaze over him, ignore the ugly meanings that linger behind them. They themselves are so much more than what's hastily scrawled on a prescription, anyway.
Adam's body becomes like a map to him. He likes to run his fingers along the highways of his bones, pausing every now and then at those rare and desolate cities that are his freckles. It amazes him how each little crevice is like a canyon, neglected and eager to be explored. He puts it upon himself to unfold him and mark those territories as his own.
They learn to hold each other up, but there are still times when they crumble. Even the strongest of souls must rot and soften at some point. And each time, he can't help but wonder if this will be the last. That maybe they weren't strong enough for recovery (for each other) and this will be the fall that finally breaks them. But then he looks at Adam, and together they dust themselves off and begin picking up the pieces.
Because putting yourself back together is easier when you're not alone.
Things are not perfect. And chances are, they never will be. One is already risking everything by bringing two shattered people together and expecting things to be smooth from then on. But if he gets to see the glint of Adam's smile in the darkness of their bedroom every night, or hear the soft lull of his breathing when all else has failed, then maybe it's not so bad. It's a learning process. They've learned to love and now they just have to learn to hold on.
And that's when he realizes that maybe, in their own damaged little way, they're going to be alright.