He almost missed Ari’s explanation as to why he was here; Ben was too focused on how easily Ari’s frown appeared on his features, as if it had been pressed down one too many times and was in danger of being stuck that way. And because it was Ari and because even after all this time the impulse to make Ari smile had never faded one iota, Ben wanted to make a comment about how if he kept frowning, Ari would be stuck that way. And then he would reach out and press his thumb to the corner of the mouth he knew so well, as if he could iron out the creases he saw there.

The ache in his chest, he knew, wasn’t from his fall anymore. Something even greater had taken its place. Ben nodded understandingly, his eyes briefly flitting up to the now thinning crowd. They’d seen someone rush to his aid, and now that there was no need for anymore help, they would go on their merry ways and some of them who were couples would be happy, and those who were happy would be able to enjoy the warm feeling of anticipation at spending the rest of their days with someone they loved. Ben hated them for it.

“Yes,” The thought of others being so happy while he and Ari could never be had sat at the forefront of his mind and trickled down onto his tongue, bitter and acrid. He swallowed. “I’ll just —” He tried to stand, he really did. But the cage of his ribs screamed at being pressed in, and he let out a harsh grunt. Realizing he’d have to bridge the gap between them even more, Ben steeled himself before he looked up at Ari again, then extended his arm, hand splayed open. “Could you…?” He couldn’t finish the request before his eyes flickered down again. If he was going to be rejected again, he didn’t feel like a coward at not wanting to be looking at Ari when he did it.

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