#sorry to my forlex pals the breakup is in this chapter i hope ive done you guys justice all the same | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haloud · 3 years

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things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 8

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Forrest returns from his trip, and he and Alex clash over Michael’s presence in his life.

Excerpt:

Was Forrest right?

Was he taking advantage of Michael? No. His first instinct was no. Michael came to him when he was in need—something Alex still wasn’t letting himself stop to process.

But the thing Forrest said about power…

If he searched himself, if he had to put it in such terms: Michael did make Alex feel powerful. He always had. From the very first day, when Alex offered the only thing he had—the rebellious kindness he practiced mostly because his father wanted to stamp it out—and Michael took it, took it shy and suspicious, but then grew towards him like a sunflower. That made him feel powerful. And it would be dishonest to say he didn’t feel powerful every time he came and went and no matter what Michael was still there waiting when he returned, no matter how much, yeah, Michael made him feel weak, too, knew just the right words to say to cut the deepest.

Control was a commodity. Alex starved for it his entire life and gorged himself when it was available, and only now was he in a place where he could begin on the work of balancing himself out. Michael told him once that he never said no to him—how able was Alex to judge when they crossed such old, familiar lines worn away by the traffic they’d seen over the past eleven years? How much could Michael be trusted to see those lines either, or to tell him if they were crossed instead of just taking it?

They needed to talk. They always needed to talk. It never got any easier. And what the hell was all the talking for, if not…that thing Forrest was worrying about? Not cheating, no, but was there still some part of him that still dreamed his old dream of what peace looked like, Michael in the early morning, and birdsong after rain, and nowhere to be but here?

Sorry I’ve been so quiet. It’s been a pretty stressful few days. I love the pictures, and I hope your trip was fun.

Alex pressed send and sent a picture of himself and Buffy cuddling in the early morning along with it.

Forrest’s reply was almost instant.

No problem, babe. It’s been great, but I’m also ready to be home…and see you again. 😉

He sighed. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he searched for the right words to explain the situation before Forrest walked right into it, to explain why he was sharing his home with Michael, to explain why Alex balked and deflected and talked his way around every suggestion that Michael could be on his own now, that he was healed enough to make do alone. Maybe Forrest wouldn’t understand, but Alex owed him at least that much. Right?

Looking forward to seeing you, too, he said, then dropped his phone onto his chest and ran a hand over his face.

The house was quiet around him. Michael was an early riser, but a stealthy one; thus far, even Alex’s hypersensitive hearing hadn’t been piqued or sent into an anxious, paranoid spiral by so much as the sound of a foot tread from rooms away. At first, the silence troubled Alex, brought up thoughts of Michael laying stuck in his bed afraid of disturbing Alex, afraid of him, but he’d started his own day only to find Michael’s already begun enough times now to find the quiet peaceful, thoughtful.

The buzz of his phone was jarring in comparison. He picked it up to check it.

Oh yeah? Been lonely there without me? 😉 😉 😉

Alex threw an arm over his eyes and groaned.

He was saved from having to come up with a response by another message coming through quickly: Kidding—the first group just got called to board, so I don’t have time for all that. See you soon, babe.

Alex responded, See you soon. Sure you don’t need a ride from the airport? Call me if Wyatt flakes.

I will. But I think it’ll be fine.

Okay. He hesitated again. This was his last chance to say something about Michael before Forrest was back in Roswell. But, chickening out, he just said, Call me even if you just don’t want to spend three hours in the car with him.

Forrest responded with a kissing emoji, and that was that.

Eventually, Alex got out of bed and got ready for the day. He’d taken to not wearing his uniform when off base in deference to Michael’s deep discomfort with it, and, though at times inconvenient, it was worth it to walk into the kitchen and see Michael at the table with a bowl of cereal, and for him to look up and smile at Alex instead of lean back and close off.

“Got any plans for today?” Michael asked as Alex checked his watch and grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter to eat on his way.

“Nothing much beyond work. Forrest is coming home today. He has a short layover in Denver, so between that and the drive from Albuquerque, he should get back to Roswell around the time I get off.”

“Oh. Right.”

Michael’s voice was flat, and Alex didn’t know what to do with it, so he stood at attention and waited for Michael to make the next move.

“Max will be devastated,” was all he said. In her basket in the corner, Buffy slept on.

Alex’s lips quirked up. “Maybe we can set up play dates for them. Honestly, Forrest would probably appreciate someone taking her to the park or something when he gets deep into writing or research.”

“Huh. I’ll let Max know.” He took the last bite of his cereal and stood to rinse it in the sink. Every day he regained a little more strength, but Alex’s keen eyes still couldn’t miss the uneven shakiness of his limbs or the hollowness around his eyes.

Alex checked his watch again. He needed to get going, but it was harder than he’d ever expected to leave Michael in the mornings, a thought that left guilty grit in the pit of his stomach. His heart and mind hit on a pattern he didn’t mean, a dangerous domestic assumption that wasn’t fair to anyone, not Michael, not himself, and not Forrest. The first few days, laying in the dark at night trying to locate Michael’s beat and breath from across the house, he’d told himself it was just worry for him that rooted those thoughts in his head, that if Michael was in his house for any other reason, things would be different. If it was a lie, well, Alex was comfortable with lying to himself.

“I’ll make myself scarce,” Michael was saying as he put his bowl in the drying rack.

“What?”

He shrugged and turned to face Alex, leaning his weight back against the counter. “I figured it’d be awkward if your boyfriend showed up and I was here. So I’ll make sure I’m gone by the time he gets back.”

“Michael, no.” Alex’s heart pounded sickly in his chest—Jones lying in wait to get Michael alone—Michael collapsing to the floor of his trailer, red pouring from his mouth, ears, and eyes—Michael powerless and pulled over on the side of the road to Sanders’s, apprehended and shoved in the back of a Project Shepherd van—"You can stay here as long as you need to—until we know it’s safe and the threats are eliminated. It’s not pity, it’s the same reason Max is living with Isobel right now, right? And she’s only got the one guest room.”

He was babbling, excuses flowing like wine. But no sacrificed dignity was too far if it meant keeping Michael safe—making him understand.

Continuing, he said, louder and firmer, “Frankly, no potential target should be alone right now. This shouldn’t wait until Thursday—I’m going to get in contact with Maria, Rosa, and Kyle today and work out a buddy system. Someone might have to double up; would it bother you if Maria—”

“Alex,” Michael interrupted softly. “It’s okay.”

Alex stopped in his tracks. When had he started pacing?

Michael stepped forward and, with only a heartbeat’s hesitation, so quick Alex might have imagined it, he put a warm, solid hand on Alex’s shoulder.

“If you think it’s safer, I won’t go anywhere.”

Swallowing, Alex nodded. His hand twitched at his side, but he didn’t pick it up to wrap it around Michael’s wrist and hold him there.

While they stood there, caught in the moment, dawn through the window catching dew on a spider’s web, Alex’s watch beeped little and tinny.

“Looks like you do gotta go somewhere,” Michael said, voice comfortingly casual, dropping his hand and stepping away.

“Right. I do. Look, we can just tell Forrest you were too sick to be alone. If he gets pissed, I’ll deal with it. It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to come between—”

“You’re not. I should have told him, but I didn’t, so I’ll handle the fallout. I have to go.”

“Okay.” Michael didn’t look comforted, but he didn’t fight. “See you later. I might pick up a half day at work, too. Not pushing myself,” he pre-empted.

Alex was now running too late to argue, so he had to leave it there, with just a text to Max at a red light: Michael going to work today. Call me if anything happens.

He didn’t hear from Max all day, and when he checked his phone after work, he had only a couple brief messages from Forrest confirming he made it to Denver and made it onto his connecting flight.

Made it to ABQ alright? He texted, and by the time he got home, he had a response.

Yeah. Super tired. Maybe I should have asked you after all…I’m stuck in the car with Wyatt’s music, ugh.

Michael’s car wasn’t in the driveway like Alex might have expected if he’d gotten a ride to Sanders’s and come back, but Alex took a deep breath and postponed spiraling over anything until he confirmed whether or not Michael was here. Shouldering his bag and locking his car, he made his way inside, responding with his other hand. Ugh indeed. I hope you brought the good headphones for blocking it—and him—out.

You know it, babe.

“Michael?” he called.

“In the den,” Michael replied.

There, Alex found him stretched out on the couch, ankles crossed and propped up on the arm so Buffy could sleep beneath them, a book in his hands that he set aside as Alex entered the room.

“How was your—what the fuck?”

Buffy’s head perked up at Alex’s voice, and she gave him a baleful look.

Michael grimaced. “Don’t freak out—”

“What the hell happened?”

In two strides, Alex crossed the space between them and grabbed Michael’s hand to examine it. He sported thick white gauze wrapped around his palm, and Alex had to fight down a scream of pure frustration.

“I just burned myself at work. It’s not as bad as it looks—Max just went overboard dressing it since I wouldn’t let him heal it.”

Alex scowled. Traitor.

“Have you had Kyle look at it? Why didn’t you let Max heal it? Why—”

“Alex! It’s fine. I’m fine.”

He sat up so their eyes were closer to level; Michael’s eyes were golden and earnest and exasperated and Forrest might already be back in Roswell and Alex couldn’t stand it.

Michael continued, “I’m not stressing Max’s heart or wasting Kyle’s time with something like this. Little injuries are common in the shop. I really am gonna be fine. You need to breathe.”

Following that advice, Alex closed his eyes, breathed in and counted, breathed out and counted. Of course something as small as a minor burn wouldn’t register to Michael. Alex had held those hands, felt them on his body, counted every tiny white scar and callous, claimed and cherished them when one was warped with pain and grief. This little injury was normal, routine, not anything to protect him from, not any proof of Alex’s failure. He needed to calm down.

“Your car isn’t here,” he said, changing the subject off of such heavy things.

“Yeah, Max picked me up and dropped me off. I could have driven, but you’re not the only person being overprotective right now.”

Hm. Maybe Max wasn’t such a traitor after all.

“And is Sanders—"

He cut off at the rattle of the doorknob. Buffy echoed the sound with a bark, and instinct had Alex reaching for his gun; he rotated himself to be between Michael and the door, even as Michael hissed in displeasure. But he couldn’t defend himself like this, without his powers, so Alex wasn’t taking any chances.

“Alex, hey, babe, you left the door unlocked!”

Oh. Alex dropped his head down and took his hand off his gun, running through his hair instead. Right.

“Hey, Forrest,” he called back, checking his phone as he spoke. No missed calls or messages. He caught Michael’s eye and grimaced as Buffy clambered off the couch and loped towards Forrest’s voice.

“Everything okay? It’s not like you to…”

Forrest froze in the mouth of the hallway, locking eyes with Michael on the couch, who in turn flicked his eyes to Alex like he had the answers to the awkward situation that just landed in their laps.

“Michael! This is unexpected. I didn’t realize you guys hung out,” Forrest said with impressively convincing but still false cheer. He tilted his head and shot Alex a questioning look, too, and defensiveness rose hackles in Alex’s head.

“He’s been sick, had a pretty bad fever a few nights in a row, so I told him to come over, since he lives alone and all,” Alex lied brusquely.

“Ah. Well. I hope you’re feeling better?”

“I think I’m gonna go chill outside,” Michael said, leaping up with a vigor he clearly didn’t possess at the moment, wobbling dangerously and, after righting himself, staggering toward the door.

Thank god his car wasn’t here so he could only get so far if he decided to take off.

As long as he didn’t suddenly rediscover the ability to teleport that almost killed him, that was.

“He’s been here for how long?” Forrest asked as soon as they were alone, voice still false and light. His eyes were lined and exhausted from travel.

Alex shrugged and, inclining his head to suggest Forrest follow him, he headed to the bedroom to put his gun in its safe. Buffy watched them go.

“A few days,” Alex said as they walked. “Like I said—he was sick, and he lives alone. Sorry, I should have warned you.”

“Oh. Well, I, uh. That’s okay, I guess. I didn’t know the two of you were that close?”

The safe beeped, and Alex stowed his firearm and closed it, spun the dial, and waited for the whir of the electronic lock engaging too. Then he turned to face Forrest and said, “We’re friends. We spend time together sometimes. You know, Thursdays?”

“Every Thursday.” Forrest’s voice was flat again. “Do you guys only hang out on Thursdays, or…?”

“We have different schedules, so it’s mostly Thursdays, but not always. Hell, Forrest, he was there when the two of us met, I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

“That was months ago, and I’ve barely heard you mention him since we started dating, only seen him once, when we went to the bar. Remind me who comes to those little get togethers again? Or is it just you and Michael.”

“It depends on the week,” Alex said, growing increasingly defensive. His back was to the wall; he didn’t have much room to maneuver. His ears were ringing slightly. “But there are usually—we have the same entire friend group, hell, I invited you to a couple Thursdays, and you always said no! But, yeah, Michael hosts them, we hung out one on one a few fucking times, should I start giving you a numbered list of my known associates, or what? Fucking hell, Forrest.”

“Okay, okay, God. No, I don’t care who you see, I just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t know, you’re exes! You’re—you’re almost more than that, even; I may not know the whole story, but you have unfinished business or whatever! I know your song was about him. So the idea of you two spending a ton of time together makes me insecure. And I know you can handle yourself, but I worry, with Guerin being—"

Alex drew back at that. “Guerin being what? He’s not dangerous just because he doesn’t meet your perfect standards, holy shit, Forrest.”

His own voice whispered wasting his life nastily in his ear, but he shoved it down. That was guilt for another time; right now his energy was better spent defending Michael from whatever the fuck accusation Forrest was trying to point his way.

“Right, right, I know.” Forrest ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Sorry, it just slipped out.”

“That doesn’t really make it better,” Alex snapped back.

Forrest sighed heavily. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, I was just really taken aback seeing him here after being gone—and you being so distant. Can you see how that might feel? Even though I trust you?”

Alex took a deep, cool breath. Yes, he could see it. He’d sat with the guilt and anxiety about it for days, even as he’d been unable to let go of Michael in his grasp. He could at least be gentle about Forrest’s reaction now. He reached out and took his hand and said, gently:

“Michael and I used to date, yes. But we’re friends now, and nothing else.”

But no matter how sincere he tried to be, Forrest’s face told him something in there was hollow. Alex’s stomach twisted.

Even if, the thought intruded, even if he did decide to cheat, he wouldn’t put Michael through all the hiding and sneaking and secret-keeping it would take, wouldn’t do that to him. Again. He shoved that thought away with force, before it could get its claws in him, as nauseous with stress as he already was.

A brief smile flickered across Forrest’s face. “Okay. Thank you. I trust you, okay? I do. I’m sorry for getting all controlling.”

He leaned up, and Alex kissed him lightly.

“Hey, now that Michael’s gone…” Forrest raised an eyebrow and tugged Alex’s hand lightly in the direction of the bed. “I was hoping we could have a date night in? Celebrate my homecoming? As long as you don’t have any plans, that is, I missed you and wanted to do something a little spontaneous…”

“Hold on, he stepped outside to let us talk, he didn’t leave leave. He’s staying until he’s out of the woods with whatever he’s got.”

The glitter that had sprung up in Forrest’s eyes winked out again. “He looked fine to me.”

“He almost passed out when he stood up! I’m not leaving him by himself while he’s sick. That doesn’t mean we can’t still go out—”

“And what, I’ll have you home by ten with a nice chaste kiss on the doorstep? Or we can go back to my place, where Wyatt will be playing Xbox in the den.”

This was the sharpest Forrest had ever spoken to Alex, and his mind spun blank tape trying to come up with the appropriate reaction. Where was this coming from? Had Alex crossed such a line, gone so far that Forrest wouldn’t trust him at all? What about his reaction to Michael bled so far out of the boundaries he tried to draw, betrayed his heart so badly with no regard for what he knew he should want? What was wrong with him?

Forrest continued, just as piercing, “Or would we still come back here? Because I figured that’d be off the table, since you’ve gotten pissed any time I even hinted we might do anything with someone else within restraining order distance, but I’m more than happy to fuck with Guerin in the next room.”

Shock dropped Alex’s jaw at that one. “What the hell is your problem tonight? If this is how insecurity looks on you, maybe I don’t want to fuck tonight anyway. Maybe we should go out some other night.”

“I just don’t get why he has to be here, and not at his sister’s! Or hell, his girlfriend’s? Does she know he’s here?”

Utterly out of patience, guilt firmly faded in the face of budding fury, Alex snapped back, “Forrest, you are more social than this dumpy town knows what to do with. You’re involved in like four events every weekend, half of them at the Wild Pony, you cannot tell me you didn’t get that Maria and Michael broke up the first three times someone told you.”

“So his new girlfriend’s, whatever.”

“What, just because he’s bi, he has to jump right into—”

“That’s not what this is about, that’s not fair, Alex!”

“Okay! Fine. But what is it about? Because…”

Alex’s heart pounded harder as he realized what had his anxiety rising so fast and thick in his throat. Forrest set the tone and pace of their relationship, even if he set it as slow as he thought Alex needed, and Alex let him because Forrest was the one with dating experience, the one who knew how these things were supposed to work. But…

Swallowing hard, Alex said, “Because if this is you saying I’m choosing Michael over you—if you’re trying to tell me I can’t be friends with my ex, that’s a hard line for me. That’s not your call. I’ve never hidden how important Michael is to me from you, and it’s not on me if you elected not to notice. You’re not turning this on me when he needs my help.”

Forrest scowled and raked his fingers through his hair. “Never, huh? ‘It was a long time ago’ ring a bell to you? Never mind. Whatever. Just…you’re too nice, Alex. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of by a deadbeat ex or friend or whatever he is.”

“Deadbeat?” Alex whisper-shrieked. “I just told you he’s my friend, and you, what, you have to tear him down because of that? The only goddamn thing you know about him is what he has the audacity to Google next to you when you’re writing your oh-so-important Nazi fanfic, so maybe hold off on the judgment.”

Forrest’s eyebrows climbed towards his hairline as Alex spoke, and by the time Alex was done he was storming out of the bedroom, Alex on his heels. “Okay, sure. Yeah, that’s it, I’m just jealous of the guy who hangs around you begging for scraps because you two used to get your dicks wet and he can’t move on like you did. Whatever. That’s none of my business, right. I do have eyes, Alex. I see what’s going on. But I’ll see you around some other time, once you’re over the power trip he gives you.”

“Forrest, wait. Forrest!”

“I’ll see you around, Alex. Buffy, come on, girl,” he called with a whistle, barely stopping to get her leash on before storming out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

And then Alex was alone in the entryway, watching Forrest leave through the window, stalking right past Michael huddled in a deck chair without a glance, and Alex’s jaw clenched harder when Forrest slammed his car door shut too and sped away.

Fuck. Fuck him. This wasn’t their first fight by any means, but the part of Alex that suspected he was too fucked up for an easy, normal relationship said maybe it was their last.

Would that be so bad? Would Alex actually miss Forrest, or would he miss the kind of relationship Forrest gave him, the kind that felt like what he should want, the kind that made him happier than loneliness did all the time except when it didn’t?

Okay, but now wasn’t the time to think thoughts like that, not in the moment, not so immediately, with hurt and anger still pumping red inside him. Especially not when the fault was largely Alex’s fault for not giving him warning in advance. Now was the time for deep breaths and not throwing things against the wall, no matter how much he might want to.

And as the fury left him, bit by bit, as his pulse slowed and his muscles relaxed and the clock again ticked louder than his breathing, it left this behind:

Was Forrest right?

Was he taking advantage of Michael? No. His first instinct was no. Michael came to him when he was in need—something Alex still wasn’t letting himself stop to process.

But the thing Forrest said about power…

A knock hesitated on the edge of Alex’s hearing, then came again, a little firmer, and anxiety propelled Alex down the foyer to answer it. Michael was still out there—something could have happened to him—or he could have left—Alex would call Isobel in to look for him, that was the backup plan, but—

Luckily, his front hall wasn’t long enough for him to truly get into a spiral; and even luckier, it was Michael at the door. Alex’s shoulders slumped with relief.

“You didn’t have to knock,” he said, stepping aside to let Michael back in.

Michael shrugged. “Wasn’t sure if you’d locked up in case Long decided to come back uninvited.”

With a snort, Alex closed the door and double checked both locks this time around. It really wasn’t like him to leave anything unlocked, but he’d pencil that freakout in for later.

That reminded him, though. “Speaking of locking up, here.” He opened a drawer in the little hall table and tossed Michael a spare key. “If you’re going to be going into work, or even just going out to hang out with Max and Isobel or Maria or someone.”

Michael caught it, but then he just stared at it like it was a shaken can of soda about to pop. “I, uh, kind of figured I’d be getting out of your hair.”

No! Alex wanted to shout, his already frayed nerves colliding with the visceral thought of Max’s healing failing or reversing somehow and Michael dying alone on the floor of his trailer. But he kept his voice level when he spoke, “I thought we talked about this.”

“We did! But I thought, with Forrest—”

“He can get pissed at me all he wants. The important thing is that we don’t know what Jones might try next, and we don’t know how what he did to you works, and as long as your powers aren’t back to normal…”

“I don’t want to—”

Heart rabbiting in his chest, Alex burst out, “Look, I get that you don’t want to be here, but my first priority is your safety, and—!”

“Of course I want to be here!” Michael interrupted. His eyes were wide and wild, hair a halo around his face.

“You—”

Both of them were panting like they’d run for miles, done anything but the running away and around each other they’d done their whole lives. The setting sun lined Michael in gold, slanted across the floor and the walls and got in Alex’s eyes but left the rest of him untouched.

Alex licked his lips and tried to speak again. “You don’t want to leave?”

Raking his hand through his curls, Michael replied, “Of course I don’t. I never want to leave. I want…” He spread his arms wide in a helpless gesture. “I don’t even know. Everything I’ve always wanted! But before anything else, I just want you to be happy. I’d never forgive myself if I destroyed your life even more than I already have.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex demanded. “Destroy my life? I’m the one who put you in my father’s path—I’m the one who—”

“No, Alex.”

He stepped forward like he might reach out. Alex wanted him to, but. What was he allowed to want? How had they gotten here, to this point, again or for the first time, and Alex still didn’t know the answer?

“That’s ancient history,” Michael said gently. “You could never destroy anything, you’re…”

Alex let out a harsh laugh. “Have you met me?”

“Alex.”

“I literally went into the business of destroying things and chose it four times since, even after it destroyed a part of myself.”

Furious tears blurred his vision, blurred Michael, and it only made him angrier and more desperate. What didn’t he understand?

“Yeah, and I think that sucks!” Michael said, chest rising and falling like it might if he was laughing, but the sound he made was more like hailstones, heavier and colder than rain. “But I—I’ve made my own sucky choices, too, I’m not letting you take credit for them just so you can bury yourself with them.”

“You were the one who started talking about destruction. I’m not letting you do that either,” Alex accused. “What could you possibly be destroying except yourself? I’m the one keeping you here.”

“Really? Like I didn’t just punch a hole through your relationship just by hangin’ around? I’m no good and you know that, Alex, you should—”

His heart fluttered so fast he had to clear his throat before he could talk.

“Should just walked out that door. And he took his dog,” he said breathlessly.

A beat of silence followed. Then, the corner of Michael’s mouth twitched—Alex’s eyes dropped to watch it—and he dissolved into disbelieving giggles, leaning back against the door like he needed it to hold himself up.

When he could speak again, he thumbed a tear away from the corner of his eye and said, “What are we doing here, Alex?”

“I—don’t know. I never know what I’m doing.”

“That’s not true.”

“Okay, emotionally,” Alex allowed. “Forrest wanted to date me, and he’s so normal, I thought I could, I don’t know, follow his lead and things would just slot into place. But I’m starting to think it doesn’t work that way.”

“I gotta tell you, Alex, you’ve never been great at follow the leader,” Michael said, so gently Alex almost felt it on his skin, a palm cupping his cheek.

“But I can try. I can learn new things,” he said. “So—what about your lead? What, what are we doing here?”

Michael swallowed, the apple of his throat bobbing.

“I’m as clueless as you,” he said. “And I’m not ashamed to say shit scared, either. There’s a lot of things with you and me I’ve spent a long time telling myself either won’t work out or shouldn’t. I’m scared of all the shit I’ve said before. But some of it—a lot of it stands. I wanna be good for someone. I wanna be good for you, even if I know I’ll never be perfect—”

“You don’t have to be perfect. Nobody’s perfect,” Alex breathed.

“Right. That’s what they tell me.”

The two of them balanced on the edge of a knife, barely enough oxygen between them to sustain them both without sharing. There were always two ways this could go. The paths diverged again and again and again and they turned away from the clear path so many times it made the both of them half-feral. But, inevitable, like the summer sun, like gravity and escape velocity, here they were, again, at the crossroads.

Michael swallowed again, then his lips parted, then again.

“What do you want to say, Michael?” Alex asked.

“I want to tell you that I love you. That I have for a long time.” His voice cracked. “And that, no matter what happens, I always will. But I don’t know what to do with it, after this long, and now that things have been good between us, what if we fuck it up again? What if—”

Alex’s mind whirled, with words he thought he’d never hear, with the accusations Forrest had hurled his way, about power and control and all those things that, like Michael’s heart, Alex had far to go to wield responsibly, but here was a greater truth:

Alex had never been great at talking.

He seized the front of Michael’s shirt in both fists and hauled him in for a kiss.

Michael gasped against his mouth. His lips were hot, all of him burned, blazed against Alex wherever they touched, and they touched, as Michael relaxed against him, his hands grasping Alex by the elbows and sliding up to his shoulders, the sides of his neck, holding him there as they swayed, mouths locked together. He tasted just as Alex remembered. A cascade of shudders washed down his spine and washed away every other sensation.

They kissed in the sunset sunlight, in Alex’s home in front of the front windows, and Alex buried his hands in Michael’s hair and devoured him in the open, away from any place he used to hide him, under bedsheets, in anonymous rooms, in the back of his head when he was sure he was alone. When they pulled apart, they came back together, both of them insatiable, until Alex’s lips buzzed and the ache from standing too long crept in.

Michael was wobbly too, so Alex took him by the hand and pulled him deeper inside.

“We should probably keep talking,” Michael rasped.

“We’ve got a lot of time for that. As much as we need,” Alex promised.

He knew his priorities, now. That was a promise he’d never break again.

“Forrest—”

“If he didn’t mean to break up with me when he left an hour ago, I’ll take responsibility,” Alex dismissed.

“Okay, okay.”

When Alex glanced over at Michael, he was smiling and shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just forgot how much I like a man who takes charge.”

At that, Alex had to laugh too, and the sound came out so different, light and giddy, that he surprised himself.

“Bullshit,” he said. “After all this time, you think you still have to flirt with me?”

Michael tugged him by their joined hands. They’d only made it as far as the den and they were kissing again, just long enough to get them buzzing again.

“Only ‘cause you like it,” Michael murmured against his lips. “It’s a crowd pleaser.”

“I love it,” Alex confirmed, so soft he shaped the words more than he said them, but they were loud to him—Michael’s face changed, and Alex knew they were loud enough.

#this is not the most recent chapter #but ive been delinquent with the crossposting #malex fic #my fic #michael guerin #alex manes #sorry to my forlex pals the breakup is in this chapter i hope ive done you guys justice all the same

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