Ford had been expecting that answer, and he didn't know that he could have given a different one if he had been in Tycho's shoes — but it made him suddenly, desperately lonely all the same. It was one thing to lose this, what they were doing now lying in each other's arms after having been intimate. It was another thing, a much deeper thing, to lose Tycho as a friend forever. They had been friends longer, friends first — and even after they'd become more than friends this had always been so much more than sex.

Maybe it wasn't better to have loved and lost, Ford thought as his chin trembled. If he had never kissed Tycho, if they had never said I love you, then would he have been able to keep him, at least in some capacity, after he married? Or maybe it wouldn't have been any different after all — it wasn't as though they had only started loving each other because they had kissed. They'd loved each other for what felt like forever. It was difficult to imagine any version of the future where they could interact as friends, because there would always be the hurt of everything they didn't have — but it was just as difficult to contemplate losing even that.

"Kiss me," Ford pleaded, moving to straddle Tycho because he needed the distraction. If they kept talking about it, if Ford kept thinking about it, he was certainly going to cry.

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