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@makemearobotarchive
⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧
#MAKEMEAROBOT ⸻ a PRIVATE, MUTUALS ONLY single muse blog ⸻ as penned by atlas
I DON'T WANT TO FIGHT ANYMORE, I'M TIRED. I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO FEEL ANYMORE, UNINSPIRED. I AM TOO WORN OUT, BROKEN DOWN, ON THE GROUND, I'M TOO SHY TO MAKE A SOUND. ALL I HAVE IS DOUBT.
♰ bound by ink to @prcperdose, @brutalperception, @nopartyinvitations ♰
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ben was sure archer was going to be his undoing. how could he not be?? when archer got cocky and smug at something as small and inconsequential as a little gasp. but was it truly that small, or did ben burn with desire only fueled further by the mischief??
the hum of archer’s satisfaction, in combination with the smugness written into his features, spurred ben down a path he often followed, but never truly anticipated. his voice, rasping and tight, tumbled into the space between them. “god,” he chuckles, “you missed me so bad all day, huh ??” teasing is inevitable, especially in these moments. but that didn’t stop calloused hands from meeting the expanse of archer’s hips, and grabbing ahold of the soft skin beneath his finger tips.
the way archer’s breathing stutters makes pride and desire thrum through him, stirring that same, deep rooted need to follow it. every sound, every hitch of the breath, every shudder had always spurred him on. and archer settles into him like he’s never belonged anywhere more — this was going to wreck him, but ben was happy to be destroyed. “oh yeah?” he asks, eyebrow raised and voice low. his gaze is affixed to the smile, and the yawn. archer was going to be the death of him.
his voice lowers, teasing and temptation threaded together, “you’re such a fuckin’ menace,” he chuckles, but there’s no bite. instead, his adoration and desire keep pouring from him. “well who am i to say no ??” the exhaustion has settled into his own features, but so has the smugness. so his grip gets tighter on archer’s hips, and brown eyes are locked on archer’s smile. it’s close, exhausted, and smug all at once, and ben is overwhelmed by a need threaded with love.
Archer’s breath hitched despite himself, that stupid, pleased smile only getting worse when Ben’s hands settled on his hips. He sucked in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering half-closed for a second before he looked back down at him, all warmth and mischief tangled together. He didn’t bother pretending anymore. He leaned down and kissed Ben properly this time – slow, open-mouthed, unhurried, like he wasn’t at all aware of how fast his heart was racing. Like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, it was only just enough for his lips to brush Ben’s again, breath warm, eyes bright with trouble. “Maybe,” he murmured, voice low and smug, grinning. “Maybe I did miss you all day.” His thumbs pressed lightly into Ben’s chest as he spoke. “I spent the whole day thinking about you. About how good you feel. About how I was gonna climb on top of you the second I got the chance.” But then he giggled, “Or – ” he added, tilting his head, “maybe I just really wanted you to throw me around again.” His skin was buzzing and it was so different than the first time they were together. “Is that so bad?” Archer asked, faux-innocent, like he already knew the answer. Ben’s grip tightened and Archer melted into it with a quiet, satisfied sound, hands sliding forward until his fingers were tangled in Ben’s hair. He dipped his forehead down close, lips brushing his ear. “So,” he whispered, voice raw with affection and want, “what’re you gonna do about it, honey?”
ben kind of loves doing silly things to spoil archer. this is just the latest in the long line of shit that he pulls together to see the other smile. maybe this is the most extravagant he had been, but it's not like this isn't the kind of thing that's exactly in his wheelhouse. archer asks if he was really being weird, and a gentle laugh parts his lips. he is so happy to be here, so he doesn't want to push too hard. "nope. super weird." he grins, "but – good weird, i think." a light shake of his head, because he doesn't really know what's going on, but he's trying. archer's never been great at keeping secrets, but ben's also never been good at figuring out anything about how people feel about him. he's always kind of SUCKED at it, if he's honest. he had this massive, life altering crush on archer for months and he never even noticed that archer might have feelings for him too. now – they've been together so much, they live together, and he loves spending time with him. fuck, he loves spending time with archer. "it's okay–" he chuckles, "i don't mind weird. i'm weird all the time." an arm wraps around archer, as he looks out to the water. he loves big sur. maybe this is why he never leaves the bay. because he can get here whenever he wants – it's only a few hours– and he has so much history here. history that doesn't hurt to the touch, like everything else always has. archer shifts in front of him, and ben wonders why he wants to. but his brown eyes focus on archer. on his soft curls, and the way a smile curves across his face, his watery gaze that looks so full of joy instead of sadness. god, he loves archer. wholeheartedly. like nothing else has ever made as much sense to him as this. "i love you too." he replies, smile curving across his face. he feels his heart swell in his chest as archer talks, head tilting as he looks on in adoration. the words start tumbling out faster, and ben can feel a smile widening across his face before he can even think about it. he loves me and i love him and he loves me and i love him and he loves me and i love him and he loves me and i love him. god – it feels so simple. but where ben expects it to stop, archer keeps talking. about all of these little parts of him, things ben doesn't even think about anymore. like the way he cuts his crust of his sandwiches, or the fact that he can't have dairy because it makes his stomach knot up. i don't want to. it lands squarely in his chest – like it settles behind his ribcage and makes its home there. and he could maybe pull out whenever everything feels a little bit too hard. the box feels surprising to him. archer didn't have to get him anything?? there wasn't anything he really wanted anyways. after all, he had so much. he was so fortunate. he didn't need archer to get him anything. i love you so bad. i wanna be with you forever. "i love you so bad." he chuckles, brown eyes sparkling. why is archer being so nice to him ?? he likes that he is, of course, but he couldn't possibly imagine where this was going. "i wanna be with you forever." he grins, serene look on his face. but then archer's asking a question that ben hasn't expected to hear for at least a long time. he looks so sure of himself. he's so deeply sure. "yeah – yeah –" he smiles, tears welling in his eyes. in an instant, he's leaning forward, hands meeting archer's hips and smile wide and earnest. "i love you so much." he whispers, lips brushing up against archer's, before he's connecting them in a kiss. when he pulls away, there's a soft smile plastered on his face. "i'd love to marry you."
The dreamy smile on Ben’s face was so endearing and Archer wondered, briefly, if he had any idea what he was planning, or if he realized why he was rambling on and on, but he huffed a little laugh every time Ben said he loved him too and that he wanted to be with him forever. When Ben’s hands slid to his hips and he moved closer, Archer giggled again, breathless, like he couldn’t quite keep himself together. God, he’d never been this sure of anything in his life. “Okay – okay, that’s… that’s great,” he laughed into the kiss, throwing his arms around Ben’s neck and clinging to him, squeezing tight. “I’m – this is why I was being weird,” Archer admitted between giggles, cheeks aching, eyes wet. He felt light and floaty. Then his eyes widened. “Oh my God – wait – box.” He pulled back just enough to dig it out to show him the sticky note – in his shitty handwriting. “Okay, so – yeah – I know you said an actual ring might not be practical, ‘cause it’d get ruined,” he laughed, wiping at his face. “But you mentioned this once and it lodged itself permanently in my brain, so. I owe you a tattoo.” He looked up at Ben, eyes shining, stupidly in love. “I love you so much,” Archer laughed, breath hitching. “Like – so, so much.” His phone buzzed again in his pocket and he laughed. "My sisters knew, that's probably them. They aren't leaving me alone."
emry snorts before he can stop himself, shoulders lifting in an easy shrug. “hypothetically?” he repeats, like he doesn’t buy that for a second. “you don’t gotta be mean, just solid. feet planted, shoulders out, don’t apologize for existing.” a glance sideways, amused but earnest. “people feel it when you know you belong there. worst case? glare like you’re about to bite. that usually clears a radius.”
Archer scrubbed his hands down his face, heat creeping up his neck under Emry’s openly amused stare. “Yeah. Hypothetically,” he said, though they both knew that was a lie. He sighed, tilting his head to look at him. “Emry – be honest. What part of my face says I'm about to glare at you and bite you?"
closed for emry (@scftspines) ⋆. °⛧
“Um, hey.” He brought his thump to his lip, biting down on the skin. “Hypothetically, if you were at a show, how would you hold your space?? Like, be meaner, I guess?” He paused for a beat, then said, "No reason. Just a hypothetical."
continued from here for @makemearobot !
the idle patterns archer traces in his chest feel like a tether, he's floating past the edge of relief and exhaustion all at once. there's something bleary and satisfied that coils in his chest, like everything is electric and comfortable all at once. god, he loves archer. he loves him so much. he wants him so desperately all the time. archer's voice meets his ears, and a calmness settles over him like the tide. it sits warm and heavy in his chest. brown eyes catch on the yawn, the sleepiness that settles into archer's feelings, and ben feels a smile playing at his lips. safety was always so complicated. but with archer settled into his arms, ben always felt safe. eyes flutter shut, and he breathes in the scent of archer, letting it settle over him like a comfort he's never anticipated. but then, archer's got this silly, playful look on his face, and then teeth meet his neck and ben gasps. soft, quiet, but undeniably there, and even more turned on, fuck archer is going to be the death of him. ben notices the sleepy look on his face, and archer's quirked eyebrow, and if ben wasn't sure before, he absolutely was now, because the question sounds like music to his ears. "i'd shove you into the wall again, but you look like you'd fall asleep on your feet."
Archer hummed when he heard Ben gasp – a slow pleased sound vibrating in his chest. A grin spread across his face, wide and mischievous, because – yeah. He loved that sound. Loved knowing Ben was making it because of him. It made something warm and smug settle right behind his ribs. He was sleepy, sure. Heavy-limbed and loose in that post-everything way. But that didn’t mean he was done?? He shifted again, breath a little uneven, heart thumping harder than it probably should’ve been, and then he was straddling Ben, settling his weight there like he belonged. He looked down at him with a full-on cheshire cat grin, curls falling into his eyes, eyes bright despite the exhaustion. “I can stay up longer,” he said, voice soft and teasing – and then immediately yawned, barely even trying to hide it. Archer laughed at himself, leaning down just enough to hover close, forehead almost touching Ben’s. “I’m tired,” he admitted. Then, quieter, warmer, with that same stupid smile: “But I wanna keep going.”
"hey– if i acknowledge it was a weird thing to do, i'm shitting on the way i ended up here." he laughs, and then shakes his head. he doesn't know if he's being weird. and by that, he means he hopes he's coming off like – semi normal ?? when was the last time he was social, anyways ?? and he wasn't entirely sure socializing with archer, who would probably watch on bated breath while he read the phone book, counted.
"of course, i'd still like you." ben laughs, "there are a ton of things that you're not good at probably." he offers up a grin, but his cheeks run hot at the idea that they've been making googly eyes at each other. he sits down, and tired brown eyes glance out towards the lanes. a smile curls at the edge of his lips, watching as archer bowls.
"baby," he grins, "no one's tryin' to silence you." there's a brightness in his voice that sounds almost foreign to him. he's never really been good at the whole positive person who goes outside thing.
and then keaton's leaning towards him. the flush on his face heats even further at his words. "i – yeah – that's really –" he shakes off his own butterflies. he doesn't entirely know what to say, or how to behave. he's not used to doing the whole meeting the friends thing. he doesn't have a whole lot of those. "he's really important to me." it feels so much more vulnerable than he means for it to.
when archer saunters back towards the chairs, and keaton walks out towards the lanes. in an instand, ben's reaching out, pulling archer closer towards him by the waist. he tries not to be too much in front of other people. but he wants so DESPERATELY to be close to him. "don't look at me, i don't know shit about bowling."
Ben hadn’t called him a total idiot yet, and Archer was giggling, so everything was fine. Totally fine, right?? Keaton felt his own shoulders finally loosen, the knot in his chest easing. He could joke. He could poke at Archer the way he always had, and it wouldn’t mess things up. And Ben didn’t seem like he hated him?? Ben seemed… cool. And he’d said Archer was important – which, yeah, that automatically made Ben important, too. So Keaton grinned, the way he always did when he decided to lean into it. He’d always been more outgoing than Archer anyway – he’d just been nervous about meeting the Ben. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Ben. “I absolutely am trying to silence you.” Archer opened his mouth, already gearing up to say something dramatic and offended, but then Ben tugged him a little closer and Archer dissolved into laughter all over again. He shifted without thinking, palms coming up to cradle Ben’s cheeks as he leaned in and pressed a soft, slightly clumsy kiss there. “That’s okay,” he said dreamily, smiling with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t know how to paint.” Keaton wandered back over and dropped into the seat across from them, wearing the biggest shit-eating grin of his life. “Sooo, Arch,” he said sweetly, dragging it out. “What were you saying earlier? About winning?” His gaze flicked to Ben, amused. “I went to college on a bowling scholarship,” he added, casual as anything. “He’s literally never gonna beat me.” Archer barely reacted – just waved a hand dismissively and leaned further into Ben. But, after a beat, it's like his brain caught up and: “That’s cheating?? Ben, that’s cheating!!”
ben never really did the whole emotional investment thing. he often saw relationships with other people as a hassle, rather than something worthy of investment. but archer had flipped all of that on its head, even just from that first night. it was so easy to fall into him, and he had all of these big, emotional tethers to archer long before he ever knew what to do with them. so often, archer felt inevitable. because ben didn’t really know how, but archer had carved out a space in his chest long before he even realized he got past the walls he had built up around himself.
he felt like a home ben never knew he could have—a dream he abandoned because holding out hope felt too painful. he spent so long convinced he was disposable, but archer told him on that fuzzy first night that he was so cute, and it never came with conditions. instead, it came with waking up to a fresh pot of coffee, and the sweetest smile he had ever seen, and the sheets smelling of pine.
ben didn’t understand how archer slipped past all his defenses, but he was so glad he did. because the fluttery, floating feeling he gets at the end of the night, when archer puts his head on his chest and fell asleep, that’s something different. archer didn't talk a lot about the way that he grew up. maybe it was because ben's childhood was so deeply fucked up– maybe that was why they never discussed it. he didn't know why archer was so anti vacation. in ben's youth, money was absolutely an object. he lived on base for a long time– his mom didn't work – his dad was higher ranked then eric, so money got tighter. but money kind of didn't matter, because ben was always squirreling it away trying to RUN. just another thing he didn't talk about. he said he moved out, he thinks. he doesn't really remember. he doesn't remember if archer knows about the couch surfing or the way he worked so much in order to make sure he got through school – to get to his residencies, to GET HERE. so much time spent on the road. forgive him, if he wants to spoil his boyfriend now that he has the funds. this is a first. "they're mollusks, y'know." he replies, "like clams and scallops and snails." he shrugs, small facts that carry over from his time spent on the beach. he nods when archer agrees to planning when they get home, peaceful and contented. there's so much history here, falling through these grains of sand. he hears archer's phone busses, and he knows it's weird that he's ignoring it. archer like – never – ignores his phone. but he gets closer, and ben leans into the contact. it's nice to share this with him – this space that has been one of the only lifelines he's ever had. "love you too." he pauses, and the tension in archer's shoulders feels strange. different somehow. "you alright, baby ?? you've been kind of weird." he chuckles, "not bad weird – just a little different then usual."
He smiled when he heard Ben share his facts about mollusks, and he smiled again when Ben said he loved him back. Hazel eyes faded back into brown, and when Ben called him weird, Archer just burst out laughing. “Wait – really?” he giggled, shifting closer so he could press a quick kiss to Ben’s cheek. “Damn.” He dragged a hand through his curls, grinning. “I thought I was being totally normal. Like… this whole time.” Which was a lie. Archer couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when he got excited, and this wasn’t just excitement – it was nerves, buzzing through his fingertips, his feet, his chest. He could feel it everywhere. He’d heard all those stories growing up, about perfect proposals and pretty lights and scenic places, but sitting with Ben, he realized something quietly – This was perfect. Because it was with Ben. “Sorry for being weird,” he laughed, covering his face with his hands. “I love you,” he said again, voice tipping into a giggle because he was nervous and giddy and more certain than he’d ever been about anything. “I love you so much it makes me feel stupid.” He shifted so he was right in front of Ben now, close enough to feel the heat of him, his heart racing so fast it made his chest ache. His eyes were already watering – he was always emotional, and this was… a lot. “I –” He laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really thought this was it for me. Like… the grief. I thought I was gonna live in it forever.” His voice softened. “It’s not gone. It’s just… I guess it’s a little easier. I love Richie, I always will, I just –” He blinked hard. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “I love you too.” His words started tumbling out faster, like they always did! “When we met at that bar, I didn’t know how much you were gonna mean to me. Or maybe I did – maybe that’s why I googled you and sat on Keaton’s living room floor and talked about you like an idiot.” He huffed a small laugh. “You’re so fun. And funny. And I really like that you cut the crust off your sandwiches, and that I get to make you different meals I’ve never tried before because you don’t eat dairy.” His expression softened completely. “You care so much. You have this huge heart. I can’t imagine doing life without you again. I don’t want to.” His hands were shaking now, just a little, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small box – the stupid little sticky note in it, the one that said he owed Ben a tattoo. Archer laughed through his tears as he opened it. “I love you so bad,” he said, voice cracking. “I wanna be with you forever.” He looked up at Ben, eyes bright and glassy and so, so sure. “I love you. I wanna marry you.” A breath. “Will you marry me?”
you're safe in my arms.
Archer traced idle little patterns on Ben’s chest, slow and absent-minded, smiling as the warmth of his words settled over him. At some point, he’d shifted without really thinking about it. Now he was tucked close, cheek pressed to Ben’s chest. “I feel safe,” he murmured, a yawn pulling at the words, eyes stinging a little. And it was true – simple and heavy all at once. Archer had always struggled with the idea of safety. His parents loved him, yeah, but loving him had come with conditions when he was younger. Be quieter. Be less. Be something easier to explain. They’d wanted him to grow into a shape that fit neatly beside them, to take over something practical and solid, and he’d just wanted to exist the way he was. As a kid, that disconnect had felt like rejection. He hadn’t felt safe when other kids shoved him into the dirt, when cruel words stuck to him like goatheads and followed him for years after. So he’d learned to build his sense of safety around other people. First Richie. Then Ben. And now, in therapy (he hated it so bad) where they talked about the idea that maybe, one day, he could feel safe with himself. The thought still felt foreign. But with Ben? With Ben, it was easy. He shifted slightly, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and smiled to himself. But then, he turned his head to look at Ben and he suddenly bit him – feeling playful and silly all at once. “Do you feel safe, too? I could bite you at any moment,” he snickered. A beat passed, and his smile softened into something fond and sleepy as he looked up at Ben with dark eyes. “Are you tired?” He asked, lifting his eyebrows. He shifted slightly, voice dropping into something warm and playful. “Or do you wanna push me against the wall again??”
you don't have to hold yourself together.
You don't have to hold yourself together. Something about that cracked his entire chest open. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been bracing until the pressure was gone, until his lungs stuttered and his vision blurred all at once. God, he felt so stupid for it – for the way his eyes burned, for how fast the tears came, for how everything tipped from warm and soft into overwhelming in the span of a heartbeat. He turned his face away instinctively, a quiet, broken sound catching in his throat before he could stop it. Falling apart now, like, immediately after they just got done fucking felt like the worst timing, like he’d ruined something just by being himself. “I’m sorry,” he whined, voice cracking as he covered his face with his palms, shoulders curling inward. “I – I haven’t… obviously, I haven’t had sex since Richie died, and –” The words tangled up on each other, heavy and clumsy. He pressed his hands harder against his eyes, like that might shove everything back where it belonged. His chest ached with too many things at once – grief, guilt, tenderness, fear – all stacked on top of that lingering warmth, that closeness that had made him feel safe for half a second before the glass broke. “I didn’t mean to make it weird,” he sniffed, breath uneven. “I just – God, I didn’t expect it to hit me like this.” He shook his head, helpless, embarrassed, raw. “I don’t know how to… turn it off. Sorry.”
ben felt stupid. like he was overreacting. she didn't do anything. she was just there. all talk. and he reacted so aggressively. god, everyone was going to think he was some kind of dramatic primadonna. he was so fucked. he's going to have to apologize when he calls his agent tomorrow. why hadn't they been smarter– why didn't he hire security ?? this was his own fault. why hadn't he just walked away ??
if there was one thing ben was incredibly good at, it was bending over backwards to somehow assign fault to himself instead of his parents. three parental figures, and he never had a good one. pathetic, honestly. and somehow, he still keeps tying himself in knots, even all these years later, just to make it feel like they didn't just abandon caring about him. fuck, that's so stupid. it's all so stupid. but if he makes it his own fault, he doesn't have to confront the deeper truth that maybe he was always destined to be this way. maybe all of the suffering was entirely meaningless. that was an ugly truth he didn't know how to hold.
he knows somewhere in the back of his mind that anyone who looked at all this would think that it was insane for him to be put in this position. but the guilt still claws at his chest. that's his mom, shouldn't he be glad she at least made an effort ?? which, he didn't want and didn't ask for, but still. m
everything is too much. he's so overwhelmed, and his mind is running a mile a minute. he doesn't even realize archer's talking to him until the saccharine sound of honey parts his lips. "huh ??" he asks, and his voice sounds so far away. how had that happened ?? he's sinking into his mind again. he knows it. this is the dangerous part of the house of cards that ben lives in. there's no real predictability to when it collapses.
archer's hand against his back feels like a welcome touch – albeit– he wasn't entirely sure if he would have reacted even if it wasn't. not after the night he had, when his brain was fried. archer says he'll drive, and for as much as ben wants to argue, he doesn't. he doesn't have it in him to pay attention to anything right now. the contact of archer's hand feels nice. like a welcome shift. and then archer's apologizing again, and the nausea swirls around him once more. "i'm fine." he mumbles, "don't wanna talk abiut it."
He hoped Ben knew it wasn’t the pity thing. God, he hated the pity thing. This was just concern, especially with the way Ben sounded so far away, like his voice had traveled a long distance to reach him. “Yeah, honey,” Archer said gently. “We don’t have to talk about it. I hear you. No worries.” It didn’t feel fair to expect more than that anyway. Archer knew better than most how hard it was to put feelings into words. He hated doing it himself. (Even if he should. Even if everyone kept telling him he should!! He didn’t wanna text them back!!) But then – Ben’s hand. Archer’s attention snapped right back to it, his brow knitting together. “I asked if your hand was okay, baby,” he said again, softer this time. He bit his lip. “Tell me if it hurts.” It looked like it hurt. It had to hurt – there was blood?? Archer’s chest tightened at the sight, torn between instincts. The last thing he wanted was to drag Ben to urgent care, sit under fluorescent lights, make everything worse – but doing nothing felt just as wrong. “We don’t have to anything right this second,” he murmured, trying to sound steady. “I just–I wanna make sure you’re okay.”
source.
ben regularly felt like a hypocrite. because he regularly was letting his own mind rot but he wouldn't let archer do the same. because ben wasn't losing it all the time, right ?? he was okay. it was hard at the beginning. it was awkward when archer asked him why the heat was never on – why iggy was constantly sitting by the heat lamp ?? it felt weird when archer made him shop for groceries. it felt weird, when archer came up to the studio, and started telling him to come to bed instead of asking. but he learned. they learned. because ben learned he could say no– he could do what he needed to on his worst nights. and archer learned there was someone else that paid attention when he crumbled. archer was being fucking weird. he was being incredibly weird. but this wasn't archer's normal weird. the kind that came with bleary eyes and things he didn't want to talk about. so ben didn't mention it. instead, he focused in. taking archer to his favorite beaches, planning dates, gorgeous hotels – he knew he didn't often throw around his money– but a luxury vacation absolutely felt like a reason to swipe the amex card he never thought about. ben had no idea what archer was planning. he knew that there was some secret that archer had mentioned, but he had no idea what it was. he had no inkling about what he was hiding, but he also was abysmally bad at guessing. so he didn't. he'd find out in time. and that was enough. or at least, he was trying to let it sit, and he was trying to be patient. "you ever see a sand dollar ?? or is this a first ??" he asks, dreamy smile pulled across his face. "i can buy you a new phone, y'know. or external storage." he laughs, and then looks back out over the ocean. god, it's beautiful. "denver sounds nice." his voice is so serene, and ben can't remember the last time he felt this completely calm. maybe it was the ocean. maybe it was the history. he wasn't entirely sure. "denver sounds nice. never been to colarado." he shrugs, "i'd love to meet them. maybe we plan that trip when we get home ??"
Somewhere along the way, Ben had started to feel like home– even before they lived together. It felt like home when they were watching horror movies together. Home was the familiar rumble of Ben’s truck pulling up, and the way Archer’s chest always loosened the second he climbed inside. It felt like a warm memory when he watched Ben cut the crust off his sandwiches and it was so funny that he didn’t like country and Arch found out when he quite literally stole the aux cord when Ben was driving him home one night. AKA Ben's phone. He loved the way Ben smelled like cloves and tobacco, and how he’d smile at Archer in the morning when Arch made coffee. Arch thought it was funny that the two of them bit their fingers – it wasn’t great that they both did it until they bled sometimes, but it was an idiosyncrasy that not everybody had. Ben had trusted him enough to hang out with Arch’s best friend and him, on a whim, just ‘cause Arch asked – and that meant so much to him. Arch grew up so poor and it was a little hard for him to get onboard with the vacation – until he realized that he could totally do it ON vacation. It would be cute!! Make it more special!! “This is a first,” he admitted, and his face was flushing again when he looked at Ben and his dreamy smile. He also loved the way Ben’s face lit up when he looked at the water – Arch wanted to bottle that into something and tuck it away forever. “It’s nice – my parents still live in the house I grew up in. You can see where I got this stupid scar,” he huffed, nodding toward the foot that some neighborhood dog had gotten a hold of when he was a kid. “I think planning it when we get home sounds good.” His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He didn’t even need to look. His sisters knew. They knew. He could practically hear them through the screen, feral with anticipation. “Hey, Ben?” Archer said after a moment, scooting closer until there was barely any space left between them. He leaned in, resting his cheek against Ben’s shoulder, fitting there like he’d always belonged. When he looked up, his hazel eyes were soft and unfocused, full of everything he didn’t know how to say. “I love you.” And then his heart started to race again because he could just… do it? Now? Right?? His smile fell, just a little, and he looked off past Ben. Now he was starting to feel nervous. Again.
ben loves big sur. he always had. he's been driving down here since he was seventeen, just to collect his thoughts. a weekend as a teenager was always punctuated by a fight with his mom or his step dad and eight hours out of his house, driving his clunker truck down to the beach as if he could find a way to put his head back together amongst the sand. he doesn't always talk about it, but he's such a california boy at heart. driving down the highway just to find himself, the smell of the ocean and the salt in his hair feels like home. he tries not to sit in his anxiety. there's something weird going on with archer. two sweet, too concerned he doesn't know what's going on. but he's not commenting. because archer just got into therapy– and ben remembered being so weird when he was in therapy for the first time. not that he really remembers the first time. god, that was so long ago. but he KNOWS that archer's excited to be here. so weird or not, he's glad to be sharing this with him. this place that has pulled all of his missing pieces back to shore a million times over. it was impossible to ignore how bad things had gotten. ben wouldn't let him do it. he had tried to let things play out, to let archer do things on his own pace. but that clearly hadn't worked, and he was incredibly aware of the fact that something needed to change. so he was kind of on archer's ask about it, and things seemed to work. archer seemed to be a little lighter, even if he was being fucking weird. "i think this is why i never leave." he chuckles. "because it looks like this around here."
If it had just been him, Archer knew exactly what he would’ve done. He would’ve swallowed the feelings whole, tucked them away somewhere dark and unreachable, and pretended they didn’t exist. But it wasn’t just him anymore. Ben existed in the space where Archer used to hide things, and Ben was annoyingly, wonderfully persistent about not letting Arch disappear into himself, about making sure things didn’t get buried and rot. But Archer was so good at hiding things – well, he wasn’t gonna hide the bad things anymore. At least, he was gonna fucking try! Other things though... cute, little confessions and questions tucked away under his ribs – oh, he was so good at hiding it, even though he felt like his heart could explode out of his chest at any second. When was he supposed to do it? Was there supposed to be a right time? God, he should know these things!! His entire life was tethered to love stories and hearing about proposals – but now that it was him, now that the possibility was real, he just felt like a stupid, nervous boy with no idea what he was doing. But he was soooo good at hiding it.
He rolled the sand dollar between his fingers, tracing the delicate lines with his thumb. He smiled to himself and let his head drop forward, resting against his knees. His cheeks were warm, definitely pink, but that was fine. Everything was fine. He almost laughed, caught it, swallowed it down. “Yeah,” he said lightly. “It’s so pretty.” He tilted the sand dollar toward Ben like proof. “My camera roll’s gonna be wrecked after this. I thought it was already bad with all the pictures of you, but now?” He smiled, biting at his lip. “I’m gonna need to buy external storage. Or three more phones.” Casual. Normal. Totally not hiding anything at all. A beat passed, the ocean filling the quiet for him, and then – like it was nothing, like his heart wasn’t trying to claw its way out of his chest – he added, “I think it’d be cool if you came to Denver with me sometime.” His fingers tightened just a little around the sand dollar. “My sisters are, uh… kind of dying to meet you.” Still hiding it. Perfectly.
closed for ben (@brutalperception) ｡⋆♡
Archer sat with his knees tucked up to his chest, bare feet half-buried in the sand as he stared out at the water. The ocean stretched on forever. They’d found a little beach tucked away off the road, one that promised pretty views and sand dollars. He’d found one almost immediately and he’d cradled it like a treasure – he was gonna keep it forever!! Big Sur was pretty. Stupid pretty. The kind of pretty that made your chest ache a little if you looked at it too long. Archer loved it. He loved being there. He loved that Ben was there with him. Two whole weeks. He’d actually gone to therapy for two whole weeks in a row. He hated it! God, he hated it so much, but being away from Ben, sitting alone with his thoughts, that whole night had made it impossible to ignore how bad things had gotten. He needed more than drinking and jokes and pretending he was fine. He needed help. So he’d texted his therapist back, swallowed his pride, and logged into the stupid Zoom call. Then he’d done it again the next week. There was another appointment waiting for him when they got home. That thought sat heavy in his chest – but there was something else there, too. A quiet hope. Like maybe he’d bring something back with him from this trip that wasn't a souvenir or a photograph. The tiny box in his pocket felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job of acting normal about it. “This is nice.” Archer glanced over at Ben and smiled. “I really like the beaches in California. It’s so different from Colorado.”
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."
His face was burning while Ben talked – said he wasn’t going anywhere, said he was here, said he liked the idea of spending the rest of his life with him – and Archer’s chest fluttered in a way he’d been so sure he’d never get back. It felt almost embarrassing, how big the feeling was, how it crowded everything else out. He smiled anyway, all soft and dazed. “Ben Ben Ben,” he mumbled, voice warm and wrecked all at once. “I love you too!!” And he did. God, he did. He loved him so much it sometimes felt like it might spill out of his skin, like it wanted to curl up under his bones and live there forever. There was still that quiet ache in him – Richie’s name, Richie’s absence, always hovering somewhere in the background. He didn’t think that would ever fully go away. Especially not when Ben apologized, when he talked about the life that didn’t get to happen. That made Archer’s eyes sting, his throat tighten, but he didn’t interrupt. He just let the words wash over him, heavy and sincere. Later, when he found the nerve to pull out the stupid little box with the I.O.U. folded inside, he’d think about this moment. He’d remember how safe he felt right now. “You’re not broken,” Archer huffed, yawning, the words slurring together at the edges. The way they kept insisting that back and forth was kind of ridiculous, honestly. Tender, but ridiculous. “I do love you though.” When Ben said he wanted to show him something, Archer shifted a little, cheeks still pink from being pressed against Ben’s chest. His half-lidded eyes followed the movement as Ben tugged his shirt off, and then he was settling back against him again, warm skin and steady breathing. Archer swallowed. He didn’t love that Ben knew grief like he did – not like this, not the kind that hollowed you out – but there was something comforting about not being alone in it, too. He stayed quiet for a moment, listening to Ben’s heartbeat, the sound grounding him. Then, softly, he said, “‘M glad we both stayed. ’Cause I got to meet you.” He shrugged a little, eyes drifting closed. “You don’t have t’ do that though – schedules… an’ stuff. You have one.” The last thing he wanted was to mess with Ben’s meds or his routine. Ben pulled him closer again, and Archer let himself melt into it. He was so tired now – bone-deep, syrupy tired. The buzzing in his body had faded, his hands finally feeling like his again. Talking about it was okay, right? It felt okay. “Oh. Yeah, we are,” he murmured after a second, another yawn stealing his breath. “I forgot.” His breathing evened out, slow and heavy. “I’ll – uh. In the mornin’. Text.” He nestled in just a little more, trusting that Ben would still be there when he woke up.
archer's panic was practically palpable despite how much he didn't want to stress him out. ben tried. he really did. but he doesn't know how to calm down this anxiety that was so clearly swirling within him. did he KNOW what the right thing to do was ?? not usually. was he trying his best ?? absolutely.
his arms tighten around archer and he presses another kiss into the crown of his head. is this even worth it ?? was he always screwing things up ?? you don't have time to spiral, ben.
"it's okay, baby." he whispers, voice soft in archer's hair. "it's okay if you hate it– but you – it's still helpful." he replies, "i used to hate it – like all the time." his voice is so even, and he's trying so desperately to keep it that way. a humorless laugh parts his lips. "i used to hate it a lot – but it gets better– like easier to talk. or not talk. or whatever. y'know – whatever you need." he explains, although his words trip and stumble.
archer's saying he doesn't want ben to leave, so he nods and agrees. "okay, baby. i won't go anywhere." he knows this is hard. he knows archer's really struggling right now. "i know – i know this is really difficult." he whispers, "i'm right here. anything you need, yeah ??"
ben loves the way archer relaxes into him. he in fact loves it so much that it often feels like the only place where he can relax. sleepless nights were always a regular part of his life, but when he was so far from archer, they definitely got worse. he had tried desperately not to be concerning during his trip. so he didn't call at odd hours of the night, on the hopes that maybe archer would be up. mostly for fear of archer waking up, seeing a missed call, and panicking. there was no easy way for them to get through this. he knew that. it was hard for two people so overwhelmed by their respective grief to get through any change in routine, but when so much of their comfort was built into each other, that got worse. now ben's focused on rebuilding. so when archer mumbles about how hot he is, he can't help but laugh. it's a little sad, a little less joyous than he would like, but he really is thrilled nonetheless. god, he loves archer SO MUCH.
"i'm glad you think so," he mumbles, relaxing further into the bed. he's so comfortable here, like this. there was a time, towards the beginning of when they met, where this would have seemed like a pipe dream, something ben could never have access to. but now, here they were.
he notices the way archer's breathing shallows, and his grip tightens on ben's shirt. the panic, he thinks, is the worst part. where it feels like the floor's about to drop out from underneath you, and there's no way of knowing how far the fall is. tell me something only ben would know. okay, ben. you can do that.
"okay– something only i would know." he replies, gaze searching for archer's, like maybe if they made eye contact, archer would believe him. "i play fantasy football with my agent's husband and her friends." he responds, "and i never talk about it because it is like – so far left field." a smile is curling at the edge of his lips, like he's embarrassed and silly all at once. "i'm not even sure you knew about that."
he's picked an absurd fact on purpose. because if archer's searching for proof of life, he can't say anything that archer could have made up himself. that'll only delay the inevitable breakdown. "i'm really here, baby. promise."
Archer loved that Ben cared. He loved that Ben was still talking, still there, even though Archer’s brain felt like it had been shaken too hard. His skin buzzed like it was full of static. He was way too hot. His stomach hurt in that deep, rolling way that made him think that he might throw up on Ben and never emotionally recover from it. “Don’t go,” he mumbled, not even sure if he said it out loud. This was definitely gonna be a thing later. Probably. With sitting up and eye contact and words that made sense. But right now his thoughts kept slipping away from him, like soap in water, and all he needed was to know he wasn’t imagining this. That Ben was real. That he was still here in the room and not just a really convincing brain trick. Archer blinked at him, slow and heavy. “You’re… kind of blurry,” he informed Ben solemnly. He squinted, then leaned closer, studying him like a very tired detective. “But you’re warm. And you smell like you.” A pause, then a tiny nod. “I didn’t know about football, you’re soooo right.” Another huge yawn tore through him, stretching his jaw until his eyes watered. His heart was still thudding too fast, but it was like it couldn’t quite remember why. After a few uneven breaths, it started to calm, like it was getting bored of panicking. “I think… yeah,” he whispered. “I think it’s slowing down. That’s good. That means I’m not dying. Probably. Right?” He let himself flop backward onto the bed, tugging the blanket over himself again. He scooted back into Ben without really aiming, pressing his cheek into Ben’s chest. The steady thump under his ear was mesmerizing. He traced little shapes into Ben’s stomach, sometimes forgetting what he was doing and starting over. He went quiet for a minute. Maybe two. Time was weird?? His thoughts were drifting sideways, looping instead of going straight. There was something stuck in the back of his head, tapping gently, like it had been waiting for him to be this tired to get out. His eyes stayed half-lidded when he spoke again. “Hey, Ben?” A pause. “Why’d you say you wanna marry me?” The question came out soft and slurred at the edges, moving through honey. “I don’t… I don’t get it.” He frowned, visibly working through it. “Richie asked me once,” he added, like he’d almost forgotten. “I said yes, obviously. But I didn’t really… understand that either.” His brow pinched. “Maybe I just keep agreeing to things?” The honesty kept spilling. He didn’t reach for the safer version, hidden behind the lighthearted almost did!! “I tried to kill myself,” he said plainly, like he was stating the weather. “Twice. I think. I mean – yeah. Twice.” He blinked hard when his eyes started burning. “You’re supposed to run away when people say that, right?” His voice wobbled. “You’re so good,” he whispered. “And my brain’s just… soup.” He sniffed. “When I was little, kids used to tell me I should do it. ‘Cause I’m gay.” A pause, then, dreamlike: “Richie punched them. Every time. He didn’t even ask first. He just… swung.” Everything felt too big. Too sad. The sadness felt detached but sharp at the same time, like it was happening a few inches away from him and still cutting deep. “Sorry,” he mumbled, hiccupping. “I don’t know how to turn it off. I think that’s why they keep giving me different pills? Or taking them away? I dunno. They keep changing the rules. I was sad when I was little. It got worse when I grew up. That's so stupid.” Then-embarrassment washed over him in a hot wave. He peeled himself away from Ben and covered his face with both hands, curling inward. “Oh my God,” he whined. “I’m saying everything out loud. I’m not supposed to do that!!” He took a shaky breath. “I need help, Ben. Or a wizard. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Pause. "I'm tired. Wanna go to bed??"
