Ari wasn’t well, by any measure. He knew that, but he hadn’t made any concerted attempts to get better, either. Outwardly, he could go through the motions; internally, he was having trouble seeing anywhere beyond himself at all. He was still in a pattern of punishing himself, because no one else would and nothing else felt so good – when he was not at work and not wreaking havoc on his own body, he played a game of avoiding everyone as much as possible.
Which was why he had made a habit of finding new places to flee to – Hyde Park, today, just as dusk fell. He eyed the other wanderers as he walked, sometimes lingering too long and exchanging a more intent gaze with another man. It was a cruising spot, he knew; he was half-tempted to indulge, more for the sheer risk of it than any satisfaction in the encounter.
But it wasn’t quite dark yet, and he wasn’t committed – he was still walking restlessly when he heard the shout, the crumpling form thrown from the horse. Ari was slower to react than he might’ve been, once, but the old instinct wouldn’t die. He jogged over – why did the horse look vaguely familiar? – knelt down and grasped the man’s arm to keep him steady before he’d registered how familiar he was, too.
Ari flinched, almost sure he hadn’t slept enough, had cut himself too much, had to be hallucinating. It would be the sort of thing his brain did, took him back to all those times before, brought Ben back to make him feel worse about where he was now. He gripped him more tightly, but he felt too real. “Ben,” Ari said, wishing he could just leave him be – instead, he was assessing him for injuries, trying to discern what he’d fallen on. “Ben. Stay awake. What’ve you done?”
Which was why he had made a habit of finding new places to flee to – Hyde Park, today, just as dusk fell. He eyed the other wanderers as he walked, sometimes lingering too long and exchanging a more intent gaze with another man. It was a cruising spot, he knew; he was half-tempted to indulge, more for the sheer risk of it than any satisfaction in the encounter.
But it wasn’t quite dark yet, and he wasn’t committed – he was still walking restlessly when he heard the shout, the crumpling form thrown from the horse. Ari was slower to react than he might’ve been, once, but the old instinct wouldn’t die. He jogged over – why did the horse look vaguely familiar? – knelt down and grasped the man’s arm to keep him steady before he’d registered how familiar he was, too.
Ari flinched, almost sure he hadn’t slept enough, had cut himself too much, had to be hallucinating. It would be the sort of thing his brain did, took him back to all those times before, brought Ben back to make him feel worse about where he was now. He gripped him more tightly, but he felt too real. “Ben,” Ari said, wishing he could just leave him be – instead, he was assessing him for injuries, trying to discern what he’d fallen on. “Ben. Stay awake. What’ve you done?”
