There was a lump in his throat at the thank you, because thank you was the last thing he ever deserved to hear from Ben. Instead he focused on the physical sensation of Ben’s arm shifted around him, the familiar weight and the familiar warmth, and the closeness as they fell into step.
And came to the wall. I’ll be alright. (’Tis but a scratch, he might as well have said.) A noise caught in Ari’s throat at that, because that was the sort of thing Ben had always said, casual and mischievous and devil-may-care, and Ari had never once believed it.
And since all that had happened between them, Ari wasn’t sure he ever would. “You know I want you to be, don’t you?” he blurted out, in spite of himself – and this was not the time nor the place, and about nothing a visit to the hospital would fix – but he didn’t know when he would see Ben again, and he had been carrying the thought for too long. (Ben had sent him letters, and he hadn’t even replied –) “However you get there, I want you to be alright.” Maybe that was presumptuous, based on his own still-hurting state – maybe Ben had moved on faster. Maybe Ben didn’t love him any more – that would be good, Ari insisted to himself. Maybe Ben hated him, or had simply stopped to care. That would ease a fraction of Ari’s guilt, at least, than imagining him unhappy and alone. “I know it sounds like nothing now –” now that he had ruined things for him again – “but I – I always wanted you to be happy, more than anything. That’s all I want now.” He just – couldn’t see a way to make it true.
They’d stopped moving, but he still hadn’t let go of Ben either.
And came to the wall. I’ll be alright. (’Tis but a scratch, he might as well have said.) A noise caught in Ari’s throat at that, because that was the sort of thing Ben had always said, casual and mischievous and devil-may-care, and Ari had never once believed it.
And since all that had happened between them, Ari wasn’t sure he ever would. “You know I want you to be, don’t you?” he blurted out, in spite of himself – and this was not the time nor the place, and about nothing a visit to the hospital would fix – but he didn’t know when he would see Ben again, and he had been carrying the thought for too long. (Ben had sent him letters, and he hadn’t even replied –) “However you get there, I want you to be alright.” Maybe that was presumptuous, based on his own still-hurting state – maybe Ben had moved on faster. Maybe Ben didn’t love him any more – that would be good, Ari insisted to himself. Maybe Ben hated him, or had simply stopped to care. That would ease a fraction of Ari’s guilt, at least, than imagining him unhappy and alone. “I know it sounds like nothing now –” now that he had ruined things for him again – “but I – I always wanted you to be happy, more than anything. That’s all I want now.” He just – couldn’t see a way to make it true.
They’d stopped moving, but he still hadn’t let go of Ben either.
