ben knows it’s all too hard on archer. this was a natural consequence, he thought, of the kind of loss he incurred. the grief settled heavily in his bones, and he wanted so desperately to hold some of it for him, just so archer could relax. but grief has a tendency of ripping thru people, scooping out all of the things that aren’t broken beyond repair, and hollowing into their most base levels.
the way don’t go curls from his lips, like it’s a plea he doesn’t believe will be honored, makes ben’s chest ache, like he’s somehow failed despite not being able to change this.
“i’m right here, baby. i’m not going anywhere.” the sincerity and concern drips from his words, and guilt washes over him. he’s so worried. he hates this.
“i could stay like this forever, if you wanted. no more responsibilities, just you and me in bed together.” and god, he means it. you’re blurry lands heavily within him. archer must be exhausted. he’s not sure what sleeplessness lands like for archer anymore. his own has gotten better since he moved in, but that often meant when it did hit, it hit harder. “i’m here, baby. promise.” archer settles back into him, and ben’s eyes float over him. “yeah— big niners guy.” he chuckled, hands mindlessly tracing shapes in the expanses of archer’s back beneath them.
why’d you say you wanna marry me ?? he’s not sure the question should hurt, but it does all the same. he listens closely when archer keeps rambling, and his hands steady themselves on archer’s back, as if pulling him closer would make it easier on him. “because i like the idea of spending the rest of my life with you.” he supplies easily, “because taking another step forward— building a life together— sounds like the perfect future to me.” the answers come so easily to him, which is probably the first time anything has. “because i love you.” the simplest answer is often the best one, he thinks. “you’re not dying, baby.” a beat passes, “you’re anxious and exhausted.”
he knows that thoughts like these are just a part of this – that there's nothing he can do about them, even if he wishes he could. it's always been outside of his control, despite how badly he burns to help. richie asked me once. "i think richie asked for the same reason." his voice is threaded with both care and concern. "i think he asked because he wanted your love to be celebrated with another step forward. i'm sorry you didn't get that." archer might feel like there's guilt in him still loving richie, but ben doesn't think he should. richie was an important part of his history. he was always going to love him. that was okay – it didn't mean he loved ben any less.
"and i think you agreed to it because you love him. and that makes sense." he explains, "i think it's really nice how much you love him. kind of – " god this is so stupid, "like reminds me that i can be loved like that too. like i'm not just some broken, fucked up thing. because i can see how beautiful that is, and you tell me you love me too." god that sounds so bad. does it sound like he's saying he's glad archer's fiance is dead ?? because he's NOT, but it feels like that's how it sounds.
and then archer admits to the thing that's been circling the drain since that first time they talked about all of it. when he used to go to the flatirons, and stand too close to the edge. something tightens in his chest. and then archer's saying ben should run, and a humorless laugh pours out of him. "archer, baby–" he chuckles, "you really think that'd be enough to scare me ??" ben doesn't like to do this. he doesn't like to talk about those parts of him that still remain locked behind a door – like the way the grout in his mother's bathroom is still stained with his blood. but archer is looking up at him with those big, sad eyes, like he's done something wrong. and really, what can ben do to prove he hasn't?? "i'm gonna show you something, okay ??" and it's not like archer's NEVER seen it before. but still, he shifts himself upwards, just a little, and waits for archer to lift his head off of his chest. he remembers that about the first night too – about the way he forgot his sweatshirt in the bedroom, and the scars on his forearms arms were fully visible. but it kind of feels like archer needs something a little more tangible right now, and they were going to have to talk about this eventually. might as well do it in a way where he's in control of the narrative. he sits up, and strips his long sleeve off like it's not terrifying to him. and then he settles back down, and pulls archer close. "i know – baby i know you've seen this before. but –" a light shake of his head– "do you remember the first time ?? you didn't run. why would i ??" he punctuates it with a nod. "look– i know you're not stupid. i know you know what all of this means. i just think you were too nervous to ask about it, and you knew i didn't wanna talk." and if he's honest, he still really doesn't. but he'd do anything to make this feel a little easier on archer. even if that means baring the textured skin all across his body, like claw marks of his own discomfort and guilt. he doesn't know if it'll help, but he's trying. that matters, right ?? it counts ??
he doesn't know what to say to archer about his childhood. that he's glad he didn't listen to those kids ?? that feels kind of pathetic. that he would've swung too ?? that feels kind of like stolen valor, even though it is true. so he just listens. finally, he settles on, "i'm glad he was there for you. you didn't deserve that." then he's apologizing, and ben's shaking his head softly. "you don't owe me any apologies, baby." he whispers, "they keep giving you them and taking them away because they're trying to figure out which ones help. that's why you gotta remember them, sweetheart. i'll help, okay ?? we can take 'em at the same time if you want." he can move up what time he takes his meds, right ?? that won't have catastrophic impacts, right ??
when archer pulls away, and crumbles on himself, guilt stirs within him. had he done the wrong thing ?? "it's okay, baby. i think you probably needed to talk about it." because you haven't been seeing your therapist. don't be hypocritical, benny boy. his hands, large and calloused, reach for archer's hips to pull him tight all over again. "we'll figure it out, angel. we always do." a beat passes, and another soft laugh. "baby we're in bed."