[ Dust To Dust ]
Trace lay in bed, his dark gaze peering up at the ceiling. Every so often, he’d remember the way things ended with his ex-boyfriend. The reckless man was the reason the photographer had sworn off relationships for a while. Two short years it had been now. There would always be love in his heart for the other, but no longer the way it had been back then.
No longer would their bodies intertwine and move together in a whirlwind of ecstasy and warmth. No longer would he kiss those plump lips that quirked into a goofy smile, or meet his own in the heat of passion, or ease into the gentle embrace of love. Trace would never again sink his long fingers into that thick mane of black hair that turned the mechanic into a kitten under his touch.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
He couldn’t help replaying the conversation in his head like a broken record that reminded him that there was nothing else he could’ve done. It was as if invisible strings moved the man, and Trace couldn’t cut them, no matter how hard he tried.
---
"You stayed out all night again, you didn’t think for one fucking second you could tell me where the hell you were? I could’ve come and picked you up. I could’ve brought you home, and yet you insist time and again in bein’ difficult, Alex,” Trace said, sable eyes sternly fixed on the light brown hues that avoided his gaze.
“Look, I just got fucked up and my phone died. I’m fine tho--”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. And if that’s all this is ever gonna be, then I can’t waste my time, Alex. I can’t. You know I’d do anything for you, but if you won’t do anything for yourself, then there’s nothing for us here. I’m not here to play games with you anymore. I care about you so goddamn much, and you can’t--” He pursed his lips, bringing a hand up to his face.
“I’m sorry babe, but I can’t be the perfect boyf--”
Trace held his hand up as if to stop the line of conversation. There was a pained look on his tired face, and he
“Stop. Alex, I don’t even wanna hear that shit anymore. I’m not asking a goddamn thing from you other than to communicate with me, but it’s clear to me that you’re not capable of that. Nobody’s perfect, and I don’t need nor want you to be. I just need you to fuckin’ TALK to me, man, and be HONEST. All these people you surround yourself with, they all want something from you, and you know it. They want you to run drugs. They want you to hook ‘em up with your clients-- Marty ain’t stupid, Alex. She knows what you’re slippin’ into those cars. I don’t underst-- You have so much potential to have a normal fucking life, and yet... I just wanna see you happy and healthy, and fucking thriving. But I can’t help someone that won’t help himself, and I’m certainly not your father,” he said, furrowing his brows and grabbing his jacket.
“I’m done. I shouldn’t have to wonder if my boyfriend’s gonna be home for dinner or not, or whether I’m gonna have to be the one to take his dog to the vet appointment in the morning cause he’s too hungover. I don’t wanna have to scrape him up from whatever dank apartment he’s holed himself in, or whose fuckin’ hands were all over him. If that’s the life you want, then you’re grown, and you can make that choice, but there ain’t room enough for me to fit in that picture, too.”
“I have... no defense. Tre, I-- this is just my life, man. I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop. I tried, and I can’t. I’m just. I’m useless, and I’ll never be able to give you what you want.”
Seeing the pain in Alex’s incredulous face broke his heart. He was so goddamn beautiful, but so destructive, and he couldn’t bear to watch him destroy himself like that anymore. There was only so much a man could stand, and only so much he’d be a fool for the other. It broke his heart to see the way Alex’s lips quivered as he stood there, trying to be strong. Trace knew that face well. He knew the other was hurting, and he wished he could cross the distance between them in that living room, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.
“I feel sorry for the next person who walks into your life the way I did, then. Bye Alex. If you need a friend, we can be friends. But I need some time.”
Alex said nothing, and Trace wasn’t sure if that hurt more, but it was the last time he set foot in the other’s apartment.
---
One of the most difficult things for a man to see was his beloved destroying himself, while his own hands were tied.
It was another year before they crossed paths again. Alex about the same, while Trace had gone on to work for the Chicago Tribune. A chance meeting led them to the same coffee shop where they managed to chat for a while and mend the bridge they thought had been broken.
Trace was too guarded to let Alex back in like that... but with one another, they found quiet company every now and then. Alex would share successes and worries, and found himself waking up on Trace’s couch after a particularly bad night every now and then.
“You must’ve been a saint in another life,” Alex would groan at him upon waking, only to be met by a roll of Trace’s eyes and a tall mug of hot, black coffee. “Five minutes to wake up, and you’re outta here, Hyun.”
Alex painstakingly pushed himself up, feeling dulled aches coming to life as his body woke up slowly. He rubbed his face and pushed his dirty, wavy hair away from his face. Bruises marked his face that Trace hadn’t seen the day before.
He’s still KILLING himself, and there’s NOTHING I can do about it.
Trace knew that Alex wasn’t his responsibility, but he wouldn’t abandon him, either. Marty couldn’t be the only person in his life who genuinely cared about him, and if it meant swallowing down his pride and his personal feelings just so that Alex felt safe enough to keep calling, then so be it. But he would still get some sort of tough love from him. Trace wasn’t going to coddle him, either.
Not much, anyway.
“Made you a bacon egg and cheese bagel, but you’re taking it on the road. I gotta get to work, and so do you,” he warned, keeping their eye contact brief. It never had to be awkward if he kept things moving along. “C’mon. I’ll drive you, just wash your damn face first.”
God, if you’re really out there, please help this man in ways I can’t.
“Thank you.”
Those two words were enough for Trace.
