Thank you for your kind comments and for sticking to my story! And just like Thomas, I need something good once in a while. So if this is too fluffy, I have little regrets.
"Can I see you?" The words sound almost too good, too harmless, and Thomas fears the next snap. The next trap. The next lie lurking behind the corner.
"I'm at the train station. Just got off work." Not a yes and not a no. Waiting for another question.
"I can stop by the apartment." Maven offers. There's no real importance or urgency, not like he sometimes offers. When he's high and mighty because things are important and urgent. It sounds more like an offer to hang out than anything. Hanging out, huh? That's something they haven't done for a while. It's always truth talks and shit going on.
"Nah," Thomas declines, still twitching with frustration. "We can meet somewhere. Need to go grocery shopping anyway."
He's pleasantly surprised when he sees a familiar slender frame waiting at the stop. The crimson peeks through the foggy air like blood flowing down a gutter. There's a familiar pair of headphones resting along a neck and a dark hat and matching scarf hiding slightly tousled dark hair.
Whatever the planned greeting, Thomas shuts him off efficiently.
"This" Thomas makes a gesture around himself as if he is in an invisible bubble. "is drama free zone today, okay? I'm shit tired."
He walks in silence to his right. He takes that as agreement.
"How was your day?"
"People called me Tim and gave me all of the work they were supposed to do. My head hurts and I ran around the whole time without a real break. My best friend thinks I am shitlord. My friends are branded as terrorists and criminals. And my sister got trouble but won't act on it. So what do you think?"
For the slightest second Maven looks like he is about to answer the rhetorical questions, but deciding against it for the clear reasons. Thomas makes a huff, head down, into his scarf. For a moment he wants to let it all out, but what will snapping at Maven help. It's only partially Maven's fault he's in this situation.
"You look not good." He instead says, eyes creeping up the coat and the slightest tousled hair. Maven's circles are deeply etched into the skin under his eyes. He's thin and clearly as tired as Thomas. Or maybe even more, knowing the sleeping and hiding habits he practices. There is no feverish energy, only something beaten. Like a sleepwalker. Nothing snarling. Only gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes. "Sorry for being pissy. It's just a lot to take sometimes."
"I suppose it is."
He feels reminded of their endless strolls through the nicer parts of town, just the walking, and the way they talked about nothing and all. It wasn't a good time. But they were not so bad. Better off younger versions of themselves. All these burdens and tangled feelings don't really help to build up stable. It's more of a card house, build by enthusiastic hands, high up, a pyramid of ambition and wishes. One soft blow, one wrong move, and it falls. If he thought the last time was unbearable, this time it will be an absolute end. A death. And no voodoo can reanimate the corpse of their relationship or his life this time.
A gush of warm air hits his face when the door slides open and makes a little beeping sound.
He stares indecisive at everything and nothing when they enter the store. He half expects every single person that would disapprove of their relationship to jump up from behind the shelves. Of course, no one is there.
"Should have written a list." He mutters, scratching his nose.
"How about you get to choose and I pay?"
"Eh." Thomas makes unsure and a little thrown off by the prospect.
It's not hard to follow his train of thought. "Are you thinking about owing me again?"
But as always, beggars can't be choosers. And he's grown out of the need to repay every bit of debt and money. It's about something like food and not a diamond ring. He ought to let it loose. No need to fight. And he has little money when Maven probably has more than enough.
"No, it's good. This once."
"Thomas." His blue eyes look almost judging at the pile of sweets.
"What? You said I can choose?" Thomas feels like a child pouting. It amuses him. He's almost giddy.
We are doing groceries. We're doing a normal thing. Where everyone can see.
"That's not what I meant by that. Put it back on the shelf."
"Can I keep one?" he asks hopefully, giving his best charm. "Come on, my pretty boy, I need my daily dose of sugar."
"One." Maven agrees, looking at the phone in his hand. "Do you ever eat healthily?"
"Sure." Thomas randomly takes things out of the shelves and boxes, looks at it and puts it back. "How was your session, by the way?"
Discussing private in public. He should know better than to expect a real answer.
"Terrible. Abysmal. But a success, I'd wager, for someone with my reputation on refusal."
"Good to hear you pushing through." Thomas looks at an apple like it will open a portal into the fifth dimension. It takes a moment before he grabs one, turning it around in his hands.
"You are aware, this might not even change anything?" Maven's blue eyes follow the apple too. " I will not be a different person suddenly."
It's not like the flu. It doesn't go away and you can carry on like nothing ever happened. If anything Thomas would say it's like cancer, poison spreading through veins. But there is no radiation to fight it, no way to cut it out, to purge it. There's just time and patience. Just work. There are good and bad days.
"Good. I like parts of this person." Thomas says without thinking, throwing the apple into the air like a one-armed juggler. " You're my nerd, telling me about chicken dragons and stupid science." His voice is much softer than he'd anticipated. " You are wicked smart. You have a good sense of humor if you want to. And you like my art since the day we met. Why would I want that to change?"
He could as well just told Maven he loves him. But that won't happen. Not now. Maybe, maybe later.
He doesn't know what he expects to happen after that confession. Maybe mock. Or a little huff and a wave to dismiss it.
Instead, he gets the simplest shake of a head and that look that he always receives when he does something incredibly stupid or inconceivable.
This is normal. Normal is good. Normal ought to happen more often.
They both just remain in that peaceful harmless moment as long as possible.
As soon as the door opens, he clutters his bags and the jacket off, throwing everything on the floor. His keys make a rattling sound when they land on the kitchen table.
"I hate this so much." He rips at the tie until the knot comes off and almost strangles himself with it in the process.
" You look decent in it," comes the answer from behind, rustling paper bags in tow." It suits you, Tim."
"Haha," Thomas makes but feels his lip tugged into half a smile. " Trying to be funny?"
He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt and slips it over his head. His t-shirt sticks to it and he decides to slips over his head too.
"Humour is the weapon of-" Maven starts but never finishes, seemingly thrown off by something.
There's a pile of dirty clothes on his doorstep. He fishes in it for a while, sniffing critically. When Thomas turns his head he finds him staring.
"Yeah I know," Thomas says, feeling the way the dirty pile of clothes burns a hole in Maven's sense of tidiness." Didn't do laundry."
He gives the pile one last try before he wanders carelessly into his sisters room and snatches one of her oversized shirts.
It's a glorious unicorn made of bright pixel blocks. She wears it to sleep. Well, tough luck now she'll never see it again.
"You okay?" Thomas asks, chuckling. "You look funny."
Maven's eyes shift slightly and suddenly Thomas realizes he wasn't paying attention to the pile at all.
"Wait," he teases. "Did you just check me out?"
"I did no such thing." Maven answers, a little flustered.
He feels an unwelcome heat in his bones, combing some unruly strand of hair out of his face.
"Whatever happened to the truth pact, Mave?"
"I always liked looking at you." Comes the bristling answer.
Because you always look at things. Thomas thinks. You look at life like it's a pattern or a crossword puzzle, but you don't understand the language sometimes. You're still smart enough to try and solve it, whatever way.
"Nothing you haven't seen before, yeah?" he whispers instead, tugging at the shirt, flames curling along his fingers and steel plates armoring his arm. "Not really impressive."
There's the flickering spark again in the air. Silly. It was just a look.
A look studying his back, trailing up and down his back, his stomach, along with his ribcage. Like hands that did the same once, in some feverish and wrong night.
Those same hands are gripping the bag they are still holding a little harder now. And the eyes are still watching him carefully. "You were always awfully critical of yourself."
"Look who's talking." Thomas jokes. "True tho. Never felt good enough."
There's a long elaborate silence of unshared thoughts and unspoken words.
"If anyone ever was good enough," Maven breaks their silence. "It was you."
He smiles because it's the nicest thing someone could ever say. There is still the fear, that this is all a lie again. He does not buy it, not really. Still good to hear. Like in the train station, it plucks strings inside his heart and plays a little song in his soul. It paints a picture, with broad strokes, an image of something that could be good, somehow, of himself being enough. He always tells himself he is fine. Hearing someone else say it helps. Even more, if it comes from someone rarely meaning compliments truly honest.
"You're cute again," Thomas says, still smiling.
There's an indifferent hum. "Most certainly not."
It would be easy to take two steps and kiss him. He has done it often, but it was never enough. He thought he could do it a million times more and never get tired. But that was before...before everything.
He imagines his hands clinging to the sharp line of a cheek, sinking into black hair. How there would be slightest of breaths, a fluttering moment, with nothing but two bodies being drawn together.
Maven's hands would trail a line along his side, and one would rest there. Their lips moving along, not willing to part. Making sure the other knows this is exactly what they were meant for.
It could trail away from the safe path, or just turn into something comfortable.
It would be good. Just for a moment.
But after it, there would be some more trouble. It would open even more scars and wounds and it would destroy the slow healing. There would be demands and questions. And truth be told, would they be ready to go through with it this time?
They always hide. Push and pull and hurt when things get too serious.
He feels like they are drawn together with force, like magnets.
The moment passes.
Thomas breathes in deep and Maven looks at the grocery bag in his hands.
He realizes they never actually did something like cooking before. He isn't sure how it is going. He's not the best at it. And he has no clue if Maven knows what he's doing. He doesn't look too bothered. Just occasionally glances at his phone before returning to the task at hand. He's organized and efficient, precise, as he's always. When he sees the way Thomas randomly throws things on the counter and forgetting them Thomas can't stop but think he's about to have a stroke from all the mess and carelessness.
"If I'd known you can cook I would have let you way earlier," Thomas says, leaning on the small counter and watching Maven with a knife next to him, deciding the kitchen is too small to flurry around if one has a sharp object in handling.
"I follow instructions. That should suffice, shouldn't it?" The steel makes a chopping sound when it hits wood.
"Don't ask me. People say I'd eat a salted sock."
"Very true." Maven confirms, looking over for a second, putting the knife down slowly.
Thomas nudges his shoulder slightly when he's sure it won't end with a cut off a finger.
They eat in silence. It's mostly Thomas eating everything, barely chewing. It has something endearing to just sit together and not needing to talk.
There's a judging look again when he empties half a bottle of hot sauce over his meal but all it sparks in return is a chuckle and another swallowing bite.
When they are done and the dishes clink in the sink Thomas looks over hopefully, ignoring the clock ticking against them.
"Wanna watch a movie?" He asks.
"I don't know." Maven answer and his hopes fall for a second. " Are we watching trashy movies about worms eating people again?"
Thomas laughs in relief. Too loud and too much. "They're not just worms. They are giant wormlike creatures. And you liked it!"
"Sometimes," Maven acknowledges with dry sarcasm. " to my utter distaste, I have weak moments."
"Don't be an ass." He shakes his head."No worms this time." Thomas promises. " Maybe more space battles. Want to have some sweet explosions. Boom and all."
"You wouldn't hear an explosion like that in space. Sound travels through-"
"Yeah yeah, " Thomas gives him a mocking dismissive wave. "Keep your smart ass comments for the movie, dude."
Sprawling along his mattress, long limbs stretched out, they barely have enough space. They still keep a bit distance. As much as it allows anyways.
"It's rather strange," Maven looks thoughtful, eyes flickering blue in the lights of the screen. "When you realize slowly whatever you considered normal never was."
"But you figure it out with help, don't you?"
"With time, perhaps."
"I remember when we were dating the first time you had Wednesday busy. What was that about?"
"I burned down a house. My family had to pretend I was in good care. Luckily we have renowned doctors and psychiatrists in the family."
Thomas makes a disgusted noise and earns the tiniest of cold smiles.
"Rest assured I was told what a farce it was from the beginning. That I wouldn't need any help. I gladly believed it. But in the end, it was more of an aim to control me. He wasn't very subtle about it."
To that Thomas agrees, shaking his head slightly.
It takes all the courage his rabbit heart has to press the matter further.
"You need to get the fuck out." He finalizes his thoughts. "I mean, she's your mother but what's it good for? If you really wanna be okay, you can't stay there."
"And where would I go?" Maven asks, tilting his head slightly. He's cluttered along the discussion, not really there for a moment.
"Thought about that. Obviously, you need something for yourself." He doesn't mention he talked to Cal. They need their own pace to work things out. Time is what that takes. "But you could crash with me if you don't mind? Just for a while."
"Are you asking me to move in?" Maven mocks. "Not very subtle, Thomas."
"Yeah, " Thomas rolls his eyes. "make fun of me, not like I want to help."
"You'd need to explain it to everyone. People will not take this lightly."
As if he hasn't thought about that the second the idea hit him.
His sister will freak out. Lightning will freak out. The freakout will be big enough to nuke everything he has valued about his friendships.
And would it really work out? It could make things indefinitely worse to live together in a confined space.
"I want you to be okay for once."
He extends his arm. Not really putting it around Maven. More of an invitation, testing water careful.
"I mean, I can't hold up to your dysfunctional family. But I have seen some shit when I was homeless." He sighs, fingertips twitching in waiting. "And I don't mean literal shit. Tho that's a problem too if you don't have a bathroom. So I know having no home is not a walk in the park."
Maven is looking at the arm around him like it can turn into a snake.
"Thomas," There's eyes grabbing him right back into everything he told himself was over forever. "I-"Maven starts.
"I want to be with you." Thomas cuts him off before he can change his mind.
"What?" There's the tiniest furrowed brow, in clear confusion.
"I want to go to sleep with you, and eat with you, and watch movies when I get home" He smiles a little, amused by his own head. "And, eh, some other things. I just mean I wouldn't mind living with you. We're basically spending so much time, what's the difference."
He wants to stand in his kitchen and watch him freak out a little because there's something messy. He wants to talk away at night until they fall asleep. He wants all the good little things.
So what if they fight? They fought in the past. They know how nasty it can be.
So what if he's damaged beyond belief and their relationship is broken and hard?
He can't afford to lose it again.
" You can be disarming with your honesty. You always were." His body leans forward, and for a moment he's almost relaxed. No hunched shoulders, wide open and waiting.
He curls up along Thomas' chest, an arm slipping over his side like he did when he was asleep.
He is reminded of the evening on the couch, the movie nights and the way Maven's arms were slung around him.
Thomas' hand reaches out stroking slow and careful through dark hair.
When he looks down, he sees Maven's eyes half closed. "Your heart is beating really fast." He mutters.
"Sorry, rabbit heart and all."
"I'm not associating you with a rabbit."
"No?"
"You were always more of a cat."
"That's worse." Thomas laughs dry. His hands feel the skin warm, and muscles twitching under it, a body coiling together because of his touch. "You know I hate cats."
As weird and sad as it is to acknowledge it, their bodies know the drill and they are better at communication than their words ever were.
They fit into each other, every hollow, every crack and every curve. There's only a minimum of fumbling and misplaced limbs.
"Promise me you think about it." He whispers, leaning his chin on Maven's head.
There's a pleasant humming in his body, waves vibrating along his ribcage where Maven's face is buried, and on his fingertips where Thomas touches him.
"I will take it into consideration."
"That's probably the best I can get." Thomas agrees. His lips are a soft flutter when they plant a kiss on top of the hair. The images on the screen rush by without them noticing really, just arms around the other. Blocking the world out and away.
For once I just want something good. Is that too much to ask?