XXXVII.

Ben and Jimmy returned to the Mason home sometime around seven. They entered the house holding hands, whispering to one another, and laughing quietly about nothing really, but the world was beautiful, because they had each other, so why not laugh? Tom was the one to greet them, giving them both a once over, folding his arms over his chest.

"Everything okay, boys?" he asked, though his concerned gaze was focused on his son.

"Yeah, dad," Ben confirmed, exchanging a small smile with Jimmy, tightening his hold on Jimmy's hand, "Everything is great."

They went to eat dinner, though the rest of the family and Cass had already eaten, and then the women practically attacked the boys for details on what exactly occurred once the driver had whisked Ben away, gushing to Jimmy about how wildly romantic it had been, to which he disgruntledly grumbled, "Wasn't trying to be romantic, just trying to do something nice, can't do something nice without being romantic…" while using his fork to jab the food on his plate with a vengeance.

It was opted that Cass stay the night and she was set up on the couch downstairs. Then everyone turned in.

Ben awoke early the next morning, in the gray haze before sunrise, and lay in bed studying Jimmy's troubled features, every so often ghosting kisses to any exposed bits of Jimmy's flesh and gently brushing strands of hair from his face.

As much as Jimmy professed to hating his family, and the ease with which Jimmy claimed giving them up would be, Ben couldn't shake the faraway look in Jimmy's eyes when he spoke about that legendary Christmas from years passed, it was the same look he got when he talked about his parents really, whether good or bad, that sad, hopeful look, that dreamy expression, of perhaps, maybe, possibly, this time, they might have that perfect Christmas again. It was seeing the calm rage of the father, seeing the absolute dedication to perfection of the mother, it was seeing the way that their every idiosyncrasy had formed together to create this perfect boy that now lay draped in Ben's arm, this boy that he loved so dearly, that suddenly ached through Ben as Ryan's words reverberated in his mind: figure out a way to adjust to his family if you want to be with him.

Ben pulled himself from bed and hastily dressed. He drove out to the Boland house, and stood anxiously on their doorstep. He wasn't sure if they were awake, wasn't sure if they were even home, wasn't sure at all what he would say. He rang the doorbell. Someone answered the door a few minutes later, a 'nobody' Jimmy would've called him, and considered Ben.

"I'm here to see Mr. and Mrs. Boland…I'm…I'm a friend of their son," he announced.

The 'nobody' guided Ben through the house, and into a small dining room area. Mr. Boland sat at the table, readying to eat, Mrs. Boland laying out breakfast food in front of him. They both faltered at his entrance, their expression mirror images of rage and disgust.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Boland demanded.

"Sir, ma'am, I realize that I am probably the last person in the world that you both ever wanted to see again," Ben hastily rattled off, bracing himself for whatever retribution Mr. Boland might seek for his brazen actions, but continuing unyieldingly regardless, determined to get it all off his chest, "Jimmy told me about your decision to give me six months to leave his life or else he'll suffer whatever consequences you see fitting, and I guess I should inform you before I go any further in what I'm about to say, that as of yesterday afternoon, he's made a counter decision to instead cut you both from his life. Whether you believe me or not, or whatever you think my reasons may be for this, I don't want him to make that decision. It isn't fair of him to have to choose between his family and his heart.

"I love your son. I love him very much. I thought that I was losing him, that I'd lost him yesterday, and it felt as though I were dying. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, maybe it does, I don't know, but it's true, and I want you to know that, at the very least, I really do love him. Now, I understand that I'm not the person you wanted for your son, you hoped for someone probably a woman, or maybe it doesn't really matter to you, maybe just someone smarter, richer, more ambitious in pursuit of monetary gains, someone who would get him farther ahead in life, instead of just happily helping him remain where he's at. And I'm sorry that I'm none of those things you wanted in a partner for your son, but the thing is, I am what he wants. And he's chosen me. I won't leave him unless he sends me away, and you can try to threaten me, to attack me, bribe me, it won't matter, until he says go, I will stay with him.

"So this leaves us at a standstill. Jimmy doesn't think that you two can be reasoned with, he feels that he has to make this choice, to give you up if he wants to be with me. He really truly believe that you don't care about him at all and that beyond money and security, you have nothing to offer him but I know that he loves you, both of you, I've seen it in his eyes, and he respects you deeply and that losing either of you from his life will hurt him more than he wants to admit. I think you are both very rational human beings and I believe that we can figure something out that'll work for all of us. I know that you think we don't have any common ground, that there is no starting point to open discussion, and that there is no conceivable way for us to reach a compromise, but our interests aren't actually all that different.

"I can tell you many of our commonalities right now, things that should make us more than capable of reaching a compromise. We all love your son, we care about him and his future, and I believe that we all want what's best for him, maybe we don't agree on what that is, but that's where we need to start talking, I think. Our goals aren't that different, we want him to have a good life. Now you both believe that to have a good life he needs to have a good education with better than average grades, and then go into a good, stable career that will afford him a luxurious lifestyle. To me a good life is certainly all of those things, but to be happy and contented is far more important, and that life can be luxurious without an absorbent income. I think, that we can reach some agreement about how to give him both of our visions of a good life, I think it is very possible, and….and well, I refuse to leave until we do."

Ben took a steadying breath, and then waited. The Bolands were eying him, obviously trying to sort through everything he'd just rattled off, maybe judging him a little, assessing his words obviously. Suddenly, Mr. Boland's chair screeched slightly as he shifted his position, and Ben nearly jumped three feet at the sound, wincing and berating himself. Mr. Boland had dropped his eyes to his plate, and he maneuvered it around the table, picking his silverware up. His wife watched him anxiously, darting little looks at Ben every now and then.

"It's early," Mr Boland said.

"I realize that, sir…"

"I take it you haven't eaten yet," Mr. Boland began, "Charlotte?"

"Yes, dear."

"Get the boy a plate," he said, then motioned Ben into a seat, "Seems we have some things to discuss."