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Looking back, Greg will admit that he was warned. By both of them, even. And yet because he is a stubborn fool he refused to see it coming.
Before he slipped out the back door, Rachel had put a small, warm hand to his chest and offered, “I know how hard it is to see him like this, and what it feels like to try going back to normal after. It can bring up some things, emotionally. Just. Whatever you’re feeling – you can talk to me about it. Alex too, but I know what it’s like to feel guilty of burdening him.”
And Greg had thanked her and left.
Now, awake well into the night feeling like there’s an electrical fire inside his chest, he regrets that choice. He can’t shake the thought that Alex is in pain, somewhere just out of reach. He sleeps and dreams of Alex injured, crying, and trapped in a room with no doors. He wakes restless in every sense unable to cope with this helplessness.
He waits until a respectable hour and texts them both.
To Alex: a balcony sunrise photo and heart emoji.
To Rachel: you were right, of course. I can’t turn off the worry.
Rachel responds first, with a photo of Alex slumped face down on their bed, seemingly aggressively asleep with his mouth slightly open. He’s safe. Come round for tea today?
And later Alex sends a smiling selfie from the garden, holding a cup of tea and looking only a bit more awake. I’m okay. Happy to confirm that always, but Rachel’s much better at walking people through this part.
Greg keeps coming back to the first photo. Every few minutes, just overcome with the need to do something, unlocking his phone and exhaling breath he didn’t know he was holding at the sight of Alex’s perfect face, peaceful against all odds. He’s safe. He’s safe. He’s safe.
And so he finds himself sat next to Rachel on the couch unable to stop wringing his hands as she rubs his back and explains emotions to him like you would to a child.
“I just can’t shake the sight of him so broken. I close my eyes and it’s there” he says, “how do you manage this full time?”
She offers him a small smile in response. “I didn’t, always. I was a constantly a wreck for the first few years. We both were, I guess.”
Greg closes his eyes and tips his head back slightly, like it will stop the tears he can feel forming. “I want to trust him when he says he’s okay, I don’t want to push him on it. But it’s hard to believe he can be okay after something like that.”
“Oh, love” Rachel says, her voice soft and fond as she reaches up, tipping his face towards her and cupping his cheeks gently. “I know.”
“It’s called hypervigilance,” she explains, “and it’s quite common in trauma. Sometimes I think it’s the most contagious part. You can’t stop looking for the threat around every corner. You feel guilty for every moment you’re not worried, or inadequate for not being able to protect a person you love.”
“That’s it” he whispers, resigning himself to the tears now fully flowing.
And thank god for Rachel, who is holding him together physically and emotionally with the gentle reassurance he would have sworn only a day ago he didn’t need.
“It gets easier with practice,” she’s saying now. “After an episode like this, it just takes time to adjust. The natural impulse is to see him as fragile and feel like you need to walk on eggshells. You can trust him, though. When he says he’s okay he means it. When he says he consents he means that too. He knows how to ask for help when he needs it. And if it turns out he’s not okay, that isn’t on you.”
“I love him so much,” Greg says after a long moment. “I love you both so much. The thought that I can’t protect him from this is terrifying.”
“No one can prevent it, but, love,” Rachel says, pausing to meet his eyes in emphasis “you do protect him. You love him – love us – so strongly. We’re okay because of you, complete in a way we weren’t before you.”
And as Greg has no words with which to respond to this, he just sits there for several minutes trying to compose himself while Rachel strokes his hair.
Eventually Alex comes home and walks into the living room seeming both concerned and unsurprised to see that Greg is here and that he has been crying. Alex sits down beside them pulling Greg into an embrace so that Greg’s head is resting against Alex’s shoulder.
Greg exhales into the touch and asks, “how is it that you two are the ones taking care of me?”
“Because,” Alex answers in a serious tone, “and it will shock you to learn this I’m sure, we kind of like you.”
And even Greg has to laugh at this. The air between them feels lighter. Things aren’t what they were before but he has the sense they’re a few degrees toward something even better.
The week passes much like this. Greg isn’t sure if he’s found a way to be okay yet, but Rachel sends him assorted proof of life photos (Alex in the middle of brushing his teeth, Alex being climbed upon by a child, Alex slicing an orange) all featuring the neutral if mildly confused expression he’s mastered so well. His conversations with Alex have returned to much lighter topics, like truly awful puns.
They’re in Greg’s living room. Greg’s got Alex pulled close against him on the couch as they talk, one hand resting in Alex’s hair and occasionally scratching at his scalp, making Alex close his eyes in delight. Rachel gets up to refresh her drink, and comes back to find Alex has turned toward Greg, straddled him, and is moaning into his mouth.
“Christ,” she says, the look of a proud parent at a school play on her face betraying the mock scolding tone. “You two move fast.”
Greg pulls away to laugh and is quickly silenced by Alex taking the opportunity to kiss his tender neck.
Rachel can see that the slight air of apprehension hasn’t left Greg entirely. He’s still checking Alex’s eyes periodically, and pausing before escalating. But as Alex begins to unbutton Greg’s shirt Rachel watches Greg breathe, collect himself, and wave away the fear. Greg brings a hand up to delicately cup Alex’s face, kisses him deeply, and pulling away, seemingly breathless already, reaches for Rachel’s hand and whispers “bed. Now.”
And god has Greg missed this. The molten core of this relationship that can bring in turn the deepest devastation and the highest ecstasy. He’s holding Rachel, kissing her neck, sucking an earlobe into his mouth, hands caressing her breasts while Alex eats her out like a man starving.
He knows what a gift it is to watch Alex so sure, so confident, his complete focus on continuing Rachel’s increasingly desperate moans nothing like the broken man haunting Greg’s dreams.
Rachel comes with her head thrown back against Greg’s shoulder. Greg is kissing her exposed throat as she gasps for breath, trying to ignore the fact that he’s nearly shaking with desire.
Of the three of them, somehow it is Rachel who regains the ability to speak first. Reaching a hand down to Alex where he is frozen between her legs, sitting back on his heels. She says his name quietly and with reverence, “Alex. Love, come here.”
Alex’s trance lifts by a degree and he allows himself to be pulled up the length of Rachel’s body where she is still held tightly by Greg to kiss her deeply. And then he is kissing Greg, and Greg wants to live inside this moment of unadulterated passion wrapped in sweet, tender care forever. He wants to fill a room with this moment and never leave, living the rest of his life in the bliss of his tongue down Alex’s throat with the taste of Rachel still on Alex’s lips.
It takes everything he has to pull away from this. To catch Alex’s gaze, both of them breathing fast and shallow already, and ask the question he’s afraid to have answered.
“Are you – “ Greg begins.
“Yes. Yes, Greg. Yes, fuck me, please. I’m sure,” Alex interrupts. And when he meets Greg’s eyes now Greg cannot see fear reflected back, just a wild mass of lust.
Rachel has now regained her breath and is gently stroking Alex’s face, his chest, his hips. When Alex’s decision is clear she’s the one to initiate the repositioning, gently directing him down on the bed. She’s kissing him while Greg grabs the lube, and Greg cannot focus on the task to save his life. The sight of them so seamlessly entwined, as if they are actually joined at the hip, their love its own unbreakable world, has entranced him.
Alex breaks the spell by looking up and noticing Greg, motionless and nearly drooling above them. Laughing, Alex nudges Rachel up. “Help him, love. Before he combusts.”
Rachel kisses Greg as if for stamina and grins, taking the bottle of lube from his trembling hands and making quick work of prepping Alex. Quietly, just for him, she says in Greg’s ear, “It’s okay. He wants this. You want this. You won’t hurt him.” And Greg swallows, nodding quickly at the reassurance. He looks down in awe at Alex who is shifting impatiently on the bed and lifts Alex’s hand to his mouth. He kisses Alex’s knuckles and whispers “yes” to no one in particular.
And then Greg is pressing in to him, overwhelmed immediately with the inability to keep his eyes open and the need to look nowhere but at Alex’s perfect face in this instant. Alex, his breathing ragged, brings a hand to Greg’s face and with it, reassurance. He pulls Greg down to kiss him softly and says, unable to rise above a whisper, “yes.”
And with this, Greg is too far gone to believe anything else. He is thrusting into the hot bliss of Alex while Alex moans desperately beneath him, the whole universe reduced to this moment of blessed, urgent desire. Alex is writhing now, overcome with it all, the burning need to thrust up against Greg. Rachel is back at his side, kissing his jaw and slipping fingers into his mouth. She’s whispering to him now, “I know, love. I know,” forever the calming influence.
Greg sees Alex begin to still, and his eyes focus on Greg’s, the plea there laid bare. And as his hips speed up, Greg knows the instant Alex spills over. His eyes roll back in his head and then flutter shut, the sole plaintive moan giving way to shallow breath and a heaving, sticky chest.
Any shred of control Greg has left has gone as he slams deeply into Alex and lets go, the pleasure overwhelming him and filling his ears with static. He uses his final gasp of strength to avoid crushing Alex beneath him, rolling instead against his side. He is vaguely aware of his arm draped across Alex’s chest, Alex’s skin soft and warm under his stumbling grasp.
He notices Rachel’s kind, sure hands first, before he can form thoughts about them. She is brushing his hair out of his eyes and stroking his face so gently he thinks it might be a dream. As his eyes refocus, the feeling of Alex still and warm beside him momentarily switches from comforting to panic-inducing. He begins to sit upright in a jolt before Rachel’s gentle, insistent voice stops him.
“It’s okay,” she says, pressing a warm hand to his chest, “he’s okay. You didn’t hurt him.”
“It’s true” comes Alex’s quiet agreement, “quite the opposite in fact.”
And Greg is catching his breath for the second time in as many minutes as he looks toward the voice and sees Alex, smiling though he seems barely able to summon the energy. Alex, flushed face, hoarse voice, and sincere eyes. Alex, fucked into oblivion. Alex, safe and warm in Greg’s bed.
Having assuaged this fear, Greg falls back against the bed. He tucks himself closer to Alex, reaching across him to hold Rachel as well. The serenity of this moment resolves the tension of the previous weeks replacing it with a satiating comfort Greg did not know was possible. He’s unaware he’s begun to cry until Rachel returns to the bed and settles into his free side, hands gently wiping tears from his cheeks.
“I don’t know-“ he begins, before losing the strength. “I’m okay … it’s just so much.”
There’s a Horne on either side of him now, holding him tight and stroking his hair.
“We know” Alex says softly, “we love you too.” And this is it exactly, all that needs to be said for a good while.
The following week Greg is called over for what Alex will only make vague references to as an outing. Greg does make him promise it isn’t murder after it begins with a short drive into the country. They’ve arrived at a seemingly benign patch of trees and Greg is again eyeing Alex with a loving suspicion.
“If this is your attempt to induce me to sport, you are several decades too late,” he says, while allowing Alex to take his hand and lead them down a narrow trail.
“It’s not sport” Alex replies, “just a place I like to visit when my brain is too loud.”
Whatever Greg is expecting to find in the woods, it is not the small waterfall before him now. Alex is beside him now, guiding him to a seat on a flat boulder nearby. Alex has that smile on his face that Greg loves so much – the one that bleeds through his attempts to not show how much he cares. They’ve been sitting here for an indeterminable length of time, Alex wrapping an arm around Greg’s waist and nestled securely into his side before Greg realizes how overpowering the sound of the water is.
He turns to look questioningly at Alex, who speaks directly into Greg’s ear, his voice gentle against the backdrop of the stream.
“It’s an exercise in letting go,” he’s saying now. “When I feel out of control, when I’m holding too many things, it helps to turn to a higher power. Something to drown out the thoughts I can’t stop.”
Greg pulls back from Alex at this, only enough to turn and kiss him, because once again this perfect man has left him speechless.
Here - eyes closed, kissing Alex, the sound of the water a buffer protecting them, Greg appreciates Alex’s strength in new clarity. He doesn’t know what lies ahead, but with Rachel and Alex by his side he’ll surrender to the uncertainty.