Dante couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so tired. Exhaustion weighed him down like he was carrying rocks in his pockets, and he didn’t know how to combat the feeling.
It wasn’t your regular run-of-the-mill tiredness. He knew how to deal with that. He worked a job that took him from country to country in what was, ostensibly, a traveling circus. In between work, he was at the gym or treating his favourite grocery stores like the last man standing in a zombie outbreak, sweeping the shelves of all the ingredients he could to make whatever dishes he had bookmarked on his phone. His hobbies included rock climbing, running on the beach and throwing himself off cliffsides for an adrenaline rush. He knew what it was like to expend all his energy and let his head sleepily hit the pillow at the end of a long day, having pushed through any tiredness thanks to a pure, unadulterated zest for living. But he’d never in his life felt so deflated.
Unsure what to do when he was lacking the same drive that had helped him go chugging along after all these years, he almost feared what Jax would say next to him. It might finally be the one thing that sent all the plates he was spinning crashing to the ground.
Admittedly, the question did make him wobble. Why do you want to be here?
Dante looked at Jax, hurt. He almost felt betrayed by Jax asking him such a thing. Having Jax ask him a question like that felt like the past year or so of his life had all been for naught. But then he caught the look on the other man’s face, and realised that Jax needed to know the answer, solely for his own benefit.
Dante held the other man’s gaze and dry-swallowed the last of his doubts. They hadn’t gotten him anywhere good lately.
“Because I want to take care of you,” he said softly.
Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he turned Jax’s next question over in his head. Bash would always be more than just a friend to Dante, but if Jax was asking him the question in a certain manner, he knew he had to answer truthfully and in accordance to that.
“Just a friend,” he confirmed, because although there had been a time where he loved Bash, and he always would in some capacity, that love had settled into something that looked a lot different than it used to. He knew that if Bash heard him say those words, it would hurt the other man and that was the last thing that Dante wanted. He’d gotten far too adept at hurting the people he cared about this past weekend, and he had to tread carefully now, balancing the truth with what Jax wanted to hear. Bash was his friend, and that was all the two of them would ever be again. He only hoped Bash himself could make peace with that one day.
The moment Jax’s hands found Dante’s face, gently cradling it between them, he stilled. He looked up at the other man, more out of shock than with intent. Jax had never touched him like this before and, for the first time in a very long while, Dante realised what it must feel like to be fragile.
“He’ll be alright. I hope. Eventually,” he said, his voice wobbling. He believed that Bash was strong enough to come back around and get on his feet. He only hated that he had been of no real help to him in London.
His own fingers trembling, Dante fought against the urge to do something as silly as nuzzle into Jax’s palm. They were both navigating uncharted territory here, and as sweet as Jax was right now, Dante couldn’t forget the look of utter distaste on the other man’s face when he’d first clocked him that morning.
Clearing his throat, a little awkwardly, Dante attempted to instill a bit more pep into his voice.
“We should get you started with some stretches,” he said, gesturing to the mat beside them. “I’ll help you.”
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