The tension in Ben’s shoulders eased only slightly. Ari was okay that he came. Alright; that was one small step. Now for the next one. It was Ben’s turn to say something, wasn’t it? But what was he supposed to say? What in Merlin’s fucking name was he supposed to say? He couldn’t very well do what he wanted to do and throw himself at Ari, beg him to forgive him. No, that wouldn’t do well at all, not when he wasn’t sure where they stood.
He watched as Ari moved to the edge of the bed, the movements achingly familiar. Watched as Ari bit his bottom lip, no doubt looking to see if Ben had any obvious injuries. Or perhaps that was horrible presumptuous and self-centered of Ben to think. Maybe Ari had just been polite when he said it was alright that Ben visited, and he was instead trying to figure out a way to tell him to leave?
But no — he looked sincere when he asked Ben how he was. “I’m…good.” He replied lamely, and immediately regretted it because he was not, in fact, good. He hadn’t been good for quite some time and the man in front of him was the reason why, and it was just a smidge painful to feel as if your whole existence hinged upon the happiness of a person who had spent the last two years torturing himself.
And despite the words in Ari’s letter, Ben scarcely allowed himself to believe the man in front of him wanted anything to do with him again. It was a mistake to ever involve you.
There are so many things that I’d like to say sorry for to you, and ought to say sorry for –
The two phrases warred with each other in his mind; one past and one present, twisting around each other, fighting for dominance in his mind. Ben had never been one to back away from a fight but, with a sigh, he forced himself to back away from the equal dread and hope those two sentences evoked. “That was…a lie,” He amended, running his palm on the back of his neck. He searched lamely for a place to sit. “You could say I’ve been quite rubbish.”
He watched as Ari moved to the edge of the bed, the movements achingly familiar. Watched as Ari bit his bottom lip, no doubt looking to see if Ben had any obvious injuries. Or perhaps that was horrible presumptuous and self-centered of Ben to think. Maybe Ari had just been polite when he said it was alright that Ben visited, and he was instead trying to figure out a way to tell him to leave?
But no — he looked sincere when he asked Ben how he was. “I’m…good.” He replied lamely, and immediately regretted it because he was not, in fact, good. He hadn’t been good for quite some time and the man in front of him was the reason why, and it was just a smidge painful to feel as if your whole existence hinged upon the happiness of a person who had spent the last two years torturing himself.
And despite the words in Ari’s letter, Ben scarcely allowed himself to believe the man in front of him wanted anything to do with him again. It was a mistake to ever involve you.
There are so many things that I’d like to say sorry for to you, and ought to say sorry for –
The two phrases warred with each other in his mind; one past and one present, twisting around each other, fighting for dominance in his mind. Ben had never been one to back away from a fight but, with a sigh, he forced himself to back away from the equal dread and hope those two sentences evoked. “That was…a lie,” He amended, running his palm on the back of his neck. He searched lamely for a place to sit. “You could say I’ve been quite rubbish.”
![[Image: WEY2zhj.jpeg]](https://i.imgur.com/WEY2zhj.jpeg)