A/N: So, as I'm sure you are well aware, it's been months since I updated. I apologise for that. Various things have been going on including getting married etc etc, so I've not had time to write in quite some time.

Set in April, roughly (Aaron came back in September).

Work is unbeta-d, and I don't own any characters.

Reviews/feedback are greatly appreciated.

"So, Aaron, that was a good session. How are you feeling about it?"
Man, Aaron hated this part; the counsellor looked at his expectantly, all neutral and so freaking understanding. And every time he said the same thing back to her.
"Yeah, yeah, it felt good."

And every time she turned to her computer, typed for a moment and turned back to him, head to one side.
"Have you had a chance to try the task we talked about last month?"
He knew she was going to bring that up, and he knew how it was going to look when he shook his head and smiled tightly, apologetically.
"Sorry, no. I'll look at it this weekend."

The letter just wasn't right. He couldn't string the words together to tell her how he felt, or what had happened, or what he was doing now. Line after line was half written and crossed out, and Aaron groaned as he screwed the latest piece of paper into a tight ball and threw it across the room.

"So, I take it the exercise is going well?"

His only answer was a muffled groan from Aaron, now burying his head in his arms.

"Writers block?"
Aaron shook his head miserably; "I don't know what to say. "Sorry for being gay?" "Please come and visit me; my life is going pretty great?" Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

Christian shifted on the couch, legs dangling over the edge of one of the arms. Not for the first time he imagined what he might say if he ever laid eyes on Aaron's asshole of a family. He grimaced as he realised it was playing out like a scene from Days of our Lives; over-dramatic and filled with fainting women and sharply dressed men. He sighed a little.

"This is not how I pictured spending my Friday night."
"Well, if I'm boring you, feel free to amuse yourself in some other way."

Christian rolled his eyes, swung his legs over the sofa until they hit the floor and walked over to sit on the arm of the chair Aaron was sitting in, bending a little awkwardly to run his hands over his shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the bunched muscles.
"C'mon, don't be like that. I didn't mean it to sound bitchy. I just meant that I like it when we spend our spare time together doing something nice, that doesn't involve one or both of us getting stressed out."

There wasn't really a retort Aaron could give to that, because if there was one thing he really did not want to be doing right now on one of their precious nights in together, it was writing a letter that was almost certainly going to be ripped up, or thrown away before it was even read.

Smiling sympathetically, Christian pressed a kiss to the soft spot below Aaron's ear, taking a little pleasure from the quiet murmur it pulled from him.
"The longer you leave it, the harder it'll get." Aaron moved his head away irritably and rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, thank you Oprah. Don't you think I know that?" He scowled at the fresh, untouched sheet of paper in front of him and briefly entertained the idea of upending the glass of juice over it, destroying the awful thing beyond repair. He threw his hands up in disgust and pushed the notepad away sharply.
"You know what? This is a dumb idea; I can't do it. If she wants me to talk to my mother so badly, she can do it herself."

Christian watched him slump back into the armchair, eyes closing and arms coming up to wind defensively around himself. He decided to try the whole encouragement thing once more.
"C'mon, don't give up. You're doing great."
Aaron looked at him, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"I've destroyed half the Amazon rainforest, Christian; tell me how that translates to me 'doing great'."

Somehow, over the past few turbulent months, Christian had learnt when not to push. He held up his hands, signifying his surrender.

"Alright, just don't do any more on it tonight; we could go out, catch a movie…perhaps you'll feel better about it tomorrow." Aaron shrugged, defeated; maybe a couple of hours away from the glaring evidence of his own failure would do him some good. Christian threaded his fingers through Aaron's and tugged gently, pulling him to his feet. "The Picture House has got a Vincent Price marathon on; if we go now we can catch the second half of it. Wanna go?"

Aaron caught sight of his hopeful face and couldn't help the smile that quirked his lips upward.

"Yeah, that'd be good."

The next morning Christian awoke to find Aaron's side of the bed cold, the cover turned back neatly. He rolled over and buried his face into the pillow, desperately wishing back sleep. He didn't think he could stand feeling so helpless again while Aaron struggled with the stupid letter. Because really, what kind of horse-shit idea was that? Reaching out to the people who sent him away like some kind of defective toy with a manufacturers guarantee? He rolled over again, kicking the sheets down and scowled petulantly at the ceiling.

A glance at the closet revealed the sight of the freshly ironed shirt and pants Aaron had obviously left out for him. Christian groaned; he'd managed to forget about the long shift he'd signed up for at the restaurant. If they didn't need the money so much he wouldn't have even entertained it; and it was Aaron's birthday in a few weeks, and he wanted to do something, no matter how low-key it was.

Fifteen minutes later he was showered and had got as far as putting on his pants and shirt. He stood staring at his reflection in the mirror and wondered what everybody else saw now; had he changed outside as well as in? Did he stand differently, talk differently? Blinking, he shook his head and reached for the black tie hanging from the lamp, wandering out to the front room where Aaron sat in the same position as the night before and stared blankly at that damn notebook again.

"Did you sleep okay?" he ventured after a while. Aaron started, looking over at him. The dark circles under his eyes pretty much answered his question. "I'm gonna go ahead and take that as a 'no'." Christian muttered, shaking his head.

"I got a couple of hours. I just…I was thinking."

Christian nodded, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he tried desperately to think of something useful he could say.

"I, uh, I wish I could stay home today."
"Yeah, well, I doubt I'll be much company until this is done." Aaron looked down at his hands and continued, sounding distinctly unenthused, "You'll be late; just be an adult about it and go. I'll see you later."

Christian winced; that was a dismissal if he ever heard one. Without saying another word he retreated to the bedroom, slipped on socks and a light jacket and tied his laces in two neat bows.

He paused as he opened the front door and called out tentatively; "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

Aaron's response was mumbled, and Christian slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

Aaron stared at the coffee table gloomily. The worst part of it was that he wasn't even sure why he was still persevering with this. The counsellor had been recommended to his through the HR department at work; she thought it might bring him closure.

Closure. Right. He was sure that once he sent the letter everything would be great; his dad would welcome him with open arms, and his mom would forgive him for ruining her life.

And apparently, his brain supplied, at the moment you're doing a pretty good job of ruining Christian's, too.

Aaron supposed that if he was more inclined to the dramatic he might rage for a while, throw something, call Christian and weep down the phone at him while deploring the awful manner in which he'd been treated. He was not brought up to be that man, however, and just the thought of causing that much of a scene made him feel uncomfortable.

He wouldn't even mind so much, but he'd been feeling so good about everything since that day when he found Hope's Light, and he'd been so sure that he'd turned a corner. He and Christian were so much more at peace with each other, and he was just getting used to the fact that life was different but good, when someone at work had so very charitably suggested to both he and HR that some good could come of him dredging through all the crap from the past year.

Groaning in frustration Aaron put down the pen and walked over to the window, leaning his head against the glass and sighing heavily, watching the cars as they came and went endlessly.

As much as he loved this strange, bustling city, sometimes he longed for more green; craved the vacations they took as children to visit his grandmother in the rural depths of Pennsylvania, playing on hay bales and play fighting in the sun. He screwed his eyes up tightly and tried as hard as he could to picture being that young, not having to worry about who he was going to love, or being some kind of witness for God. Kids, he thought, are kids, no matter what religion.

Breathing in and out deeply a few times, he sat down to try one final time to get the stupid letter finished.

If it doesn't happen this time, I'm giving up.

The restaurant was as quiet as the grave by six o clock that evening, and for a full hour they stood behind the bar, mindlessly rearranging glasses and dusting already clean bottles. Lila begged off early and left, clad in the voluminous black cloak and dark glasses she seemed to favour on one of her 'off' days. Andrew turned on his heel in disgust and headed toward the kitchen to taunt the new sous chef, leaving Lila and Christian half-heartedly polishing glasses.

"Do you think I'm an adult?" Christian asked thoughtfully, and Traci raised her eyebrows at him.
"Are we starting on the self-reflection thing again? Man, love sure has changed you." Christian pinched her hard on the arm, and she yelped, pulling back from him and scowling.
"Don't be such a bitch, I was asking an honest question."
"Jeez, you're so touchy! Fine, fine; do I think you're an adult?" she paused dramatically for a moment, narrowing her eyes at him. "You pay rent, have a live-in boyfriend that you've had a hell of a lot of drama with, are finally wearing shorts that cover over a whole third of your thighs, and you're still holding down a job. So yes, I think that probably means you've joined the ranks."

Christian sighed half-heartedly, leaning dropping his chin into his hands and leaning against the wood.
"I don't know, I just sometimes feel like I should be aspiring to more, you know? I can't work in a restaurant forever, right?"
Traci rolled her eyes and put away the stack of plates before leaning back against the counter.
"Alright, what's bought this on?"

He shrugged; how could he possibly vocalise what he was feeling when he was unsure himself?
"Everything's good with Aaron, right?"
"Yeah, better than good. He's great, you know?"

Traci rubbed the bridge of her nose speculatively.

"What is it you think you should want?"
"God, I don't know. A mortgage, a house…"
"White picket fence, two kids, a job as a manager at Home Depot?"

Christian shrugged, wishing he'd never bought it up.

"That's what I'm saying; I don't know. It's like…I was that douchebag that everyone thought was going to end up with some kind of VD and nothing but memories of his party days. But since I met Aaron, I feel like I always have to try to be better, you know? I gotta work hard to be more tolerant, nicer, and more compassionate towards shit I didn't even care about before. Growing up sucks."

Traci looked at him for a moment, the sharp lines of her face softened. She reached out and lay a tentative hand on his arm.
"Hey, for what it's worth, I think you're doing a great job. Aaron's lucky to have you."

"Aww, look at that; a little love-in between our favourite Daywalker and Mr Teen Queen USA." Christian glared at Andrew, elegantly sprawled over one of the chairs at a table close to the kitchen.
"Fuck you, Andrew; is eavesdropping the only way you can get your kicks now?"
"Sweetie, I didn't know you cared."

Christian gave a snort of derision.
"I wasn't talking to you, dick face. Traci and I were having a civilised conversation about the finer points of the human nature."

Andrew raised his eyebrows. "Who are you and what have you done with Christian? All this talk about self-improvement and being a changed man…I hardly recognise you. Aaron's obviously doing something right."

A blush coloured Christian's cheeks, and he fiddled with the fraying edge of the dish cloth self-conciously.
"Yeah, well, I gotta try. He probably deserves better than me, so the least I can do it put in a little effort. Who knows; I might be the guy he thinks I am one day."

Andrew looked at him almost tenderly.

"Honey, I think you probably already are."

Dear Mother

I know this letter will probably be unwelcome; I hope you get a chance to read it before my father gets hold of it and throws it in the trash.

Sometimes I forget that it has been as long as it has been since we last spoke. I remember clearly the look on your face when you turned away to leave the treatment centre. I don't think it's something I'll ever forget.

I don't know if you ever think about me; I know you are on my mind every day. That message you left was a surprise. Christian thinks it was you reaching out to me. Again, I can't say if it was that, or some leftover parental feeling.

I'm struggling to write this, in case you couldn't tell; I always thought of myself as quite eloquent, but I have written this twenty times over. I would like to make a couple of things clear though:

I am not, and will not ever be sorry for being this way. This is no more my fault than yours. If I thought I could be any other way and spare you the heartbreak and shame I have caused you, then I would.

I am happy here. I had a peaceful Thanksgiving and Christmas, spent with new friends and Christian. I started a new job as a fundraising administrator at a faith-based charity downtown. I am eating well and keeping fit, as you always taught me. I give any money I can spare to charity, and try always to be humble and considerate. I hope that these things can give you some comfort.

As the days get longer again and the weather gets warmer, I think about my childhood back in Ohio. I think about playing with friends and racing up and down the street on our bikes. Life was a lot simpler then, wasn't it?

This letter isn't going to make everything right, but I just wanted to let you know that I think of you often.

Your son

Aaron.

"Is it alright? It's dumb, isn't it?"

Christian looked at him, and all the reassurances that were both absolutely needed and completely true just wouldn't come out past the lump that's sitting painfully in his throat. Instead he settled for shaking his head and carefully laying the letter down on the coffee table. Aaron looked at him curiously.

"Everything okay?"

God yes, Christian wants to say, everything is more than okay, because you're kind and sweet and worry about everybody being happy, even when I don't. Instead he just nodded and smiled tightly. Aaron just hooked two of his fingers about two of Christian's and squeezed gently.

"Your family don't know how lucky they were to have you." Christian managed, voice strangled and alien to him. Aaron's face lit up, sunny and happy, and he pulled Christian closer to him, wrapping strong arms about his waist and burying his face into the warm skin of his neck. Christian stood still for a moment before reaching up to hold the broad shoulders and toned muscles of Aaron's back. He moved his head slightly to brush a kiss against the blond hair Aaron insisted on keeping short.

"You're gonna be alright, I swear." Christian muttered, and Aaron nodded minutely.

He didn't think either of them knew who he was trying to convince.