I can't stop going on writing sidequests so here is a short episode coda for yesterday's (exquisite) fight scene.
From what I think is me
“So, what does this mean for us?”
"Honestly, Robert." Aaron takes a swig from his bottle. "I don't even know."
Robert hopes the devastation isn't showing on his face because... because Aaron doesn't mean it. He knows, of course he does.
You know. I know.
It's the one thing that's never changed between them. They always know.
"Don't--" he starts, and immediately regrets it.
"You're not seriously trying to tell me what to do right now." Aaron's voice takes on a warning note.
Robert freezes. He hears Aaron's voice, the words clipped and precise, but they don't land. They pass through him, like something thrown through smoke. He's already drifting somewhere else. Robert’s been through enough episodes to know it never lasts, he always comes back, and still, underneath the numbness, fear rises. What if he stays like this, what if this is the one time he won’t find his way back?
Aaron says something else, he must be, because his lips are moving, but the world’s distant now, any sound that reaches him muffled and wrong.
He tries to focus, looks for Aaron's eyes through the fog. He's still here, still looking at him like he expects something from him, and he holds on to that.
After everything he’s done, Aaron doesn't want him to disappear. So Robert tries. For Aaron.
He stumbles forward, and his legs aren't quite his own, but they're moving, so Robert must still be there, must still be a person.
The tap water is ice cold. Robert doesn’t hesitate. He pushes his entire arm into the stream, the sleeve of his shirt drenched in seconds, his fingers cramping from the sudden sensation. It's grounding. A relief.
"For fuck's--What are you--" Aaron cuts himself off as he steps up to him. He softens. "What's wrong?"
"Fog," Robert manages to say. "Sorry."
Aaron puts a hand on his back, and Robert breathes through the relief of the sensation. He's here. Aaron's here.
"Robert, are you..." Aaron's voice breaks a little. "Are you scared of me?"
"No!" Robert turns to him too quickly, splashing water all over the kitchen counter. "No, of course not."
"Then why..." Aaron breaks off, frustrated. His hand's on Robert's hip now; he hasn't let go. "Why didn't you trust me with this?"
"I do... I do trust you." Robert runs a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to be good."
He is. He is.
Aaron's hand tenses on his hip.
"You know me," Robert pleads. I'll mess it up eventually, he doesn't say, I'll try anyway.
Aaron's eyes widen a fraction. "But you can't be good forever." He sounds choked-up.
"I'll try," Robert says. "For you, I'll..."
"Robert," Aaron says, gently, and Robert knows for a fact he doesn't deserve that. "You're shaking."
And yeah, he is. Unsteady. He doesn't know why.
Aaron takes his hand in his. "I don't need you to be good. I don't need you to not mess up. I never did."
Something in Robert stills. Something uncoils.
"I know. I know that. But... why am I so..."
"Scared?" Aaron prompts.
Robert nods.
"Did you..." Aaron bites his lower lip. It makes Robert want to reach out and soothe it. "Did you have to be good in prison?"
Robert looks away. They don't talk about prison. Prison means Kev, means divorce, means loss and fear and guilt and concrete walls. Means Aaron left behind and alone, grieving, suffering.
Touching the emptiness, the pain and terror of those years–it would consume them.
So Robert doesn't.
Some part of him is aware that he came back changed, that he will never again be the man Aaron loved and married.
But he tries. He tries.
"I was good," Robert says. "I was always–but sometimes–"
Aaron's eyes fill with tears. Robert's fault too. He looks away.
"Look, I am… I am furious with you," Aaron says quietly. "I have half a mind to make you sleep on the couch tonight."
"Only half?"
"The other half wants to get it in your thick skull that nothing you do could ever make me not love you. That you're safe with me."
"I know. I know that, but--"
"I'm not Kev. You don't need to lie to me."
Robert sucks in a breath. It used to scare him, how Aaron could look at him, the liar, the con man, the master of the masquerade, and still see right through him. Now he just feels seen. He doesn't know why, has long since stopped wondering why Aaron's even bothering.
"I know you're not. I'm not scared of you, Aaron. I'm not. It's..." He trails off. Irrational. Habit. A trauma response, Liam would say.
"We do things together," Aaron says. "No more lies, alright?"
"Yeah. I'll fix it."
Aaron groans. "What did I just--"
Robert cuts him off with a soft, lingering kiss. Aaron blinks, dazed, and he is the most beautiful man on earth. Robert has never deserved him.
"I'll fix it,” Robert says. His own voice sounds tinny to his ears. “I'm going to hand myself in."