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Cliff’s house is only a fraction warmer than Dai’s. The freezing cold is made infinitely worse by the fact that Mike can’t fall asleep. No matter how much he squeezes his eyes shut, no matter how often he tells his own mind to shut the fuck up – it won’t. The words ‘nothing like a lost cause’ are running through his head over and over again.

What makes this even more unbearable is the thought that the reason for his predicament is lying less than a foot away from him. Mark is so fucking close – only two thin sleeping bags and a sliver of cold air between them. Still, he couldn’t feel any further out of his reach if he were a million miles away.

Mike is waiting for the other man to finally fall asleep. Then he could at least spend the night looking at Mark like the pathetic creep he was. That would feel marginally better than concentrating on the void between them. But the lack of soft snoring coming from Mark is a sure indicator that he's awake – probably still thinking about the incredibly big and amazing thing he needed to do to help the miners.

‘Nothing like a lost cause’ – there it is again. Let the circle of despair start all over again!

“Mike”, Mark’s voice sounds as loud as an upcoming truck as it crashes through the dark silence right into Mike’s continuum of detrimental thoughts. “Mike. You’re still awake, right?” Now that it feels less sudden and intrusive Mark’s voice turns out to be very soft – barely above a whisper. Mike nods.

“Great. It’s fucking freezing. Let’s share a sleeping bag and some warmth.” Mike’s eyes go wide. There’s no time to protest as Mark is already unzipping his sleeping bag, gets up, and easily crosses the distance between them.

As Mark opens his sleeping bag, Mike manages to joke, “Oi comrade, don’t you think you’re taking the idea of common property a bit too far? This is my sleeping bag after all.” The other man doesn’t even hesitate. How does he pull off this kind of confidence? It is infuriating sometimes. But maybe it’s just the fact that it’s clear to see that Mike would never really say 'no' to any of Mark's requests.

“Oh shut up! Dai gave it to you. And may I remind you that less than two hours ago you were afraid I might freeze? So shove over.” As he said the last sentence Mark is already halfway inside Mike’s sleeping bag. He can’t close it but he uses the second sleeping bag to cover them so that their body heat can’t escape. As Mark settles down his back is pressed against Mike’s front – no air between them.

“Damn! Mark! How can your feet be even colder than the fucking room temperature? That shouldn't even be possible!” At least the blocks of ice currently rubbing against Mike’s legs for warmth chase all traces of romance away for now. The familiarity of their banter makes the situation more manageable.

“It’s an art”, Mark says simply, his voice sleepy already. He presses Mike's hand against his chest, cuddling it like a stuffed animal. Mike can’t even remember when he’s put his arm around the other man. But he’s beyond caring. He’s happy even. Right now is the tiny moment where it’s enough – where there’s no distance between them.

Mike knows it won’t last – it never does. The closer he gets to what he wants, the further away it’ll feel later on. Soon there will be worry and guilt and the craving for more than just this and the questions. Does Mark know about his feelings? Why is he doing this? Will he ever want more too? It’ll all be crashing down on him soon. So he tries to enjoy it as long as it’s there – this complete moment where he’s allowed to hold the one he loves.

Mike wonders if this is torture or a kindness. Just before falling asleep he reaches the conclusion that he’ll never know. But that doesn’t matter because he’d always choose this whether it hurt him or helped him.

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When the pale light of the winter morning makes its way through the window, Mark is already awake. He has yet to open his eyes. He doesn’t because right now he’s happy. As soon as he opens his eyes, he’ll have to be that person who wants to change the world and has to fight great forces – all on his own.

That person has no appreciation for the beauty that lies in small happy moments such as this one. The reason for his bliss is the warm body pressed so close to his and its owner. There’s no room between him and Mike. Hot puffs of air are tickling the base of his neck. Nothing else could ever feel warm in a more comfortable way than having Mike pressed up against his back.

The intimacy he feels while caressing the other man’s hand is made infinitely better by the fact that Mike’s still asleep. He can guess that from the soft snoring. As long as it continues, Mark doesn’t have to pretend. He can show his affections freely. He doesn’t have to hide behind a façade of emotional ignorance. Of course that’ll be over when he opens his eyes too. But for now he allows himself to dwell in this happy moment just a bit longer.

It’s in moments like this that Mark contemplates what he could have. If it could be just like this all the time he’d get together with Mike without thinking twice. What could possibly be bad about keeping his best friend and just adding cuddles and kisses and sex? Sounds like a dream come true. But Mark isn’t so naïve anymore as to believe that this is all there is to a relationship. There are more things to consider. There is drama. There are sacrifices to be made. And he knows for sure that there are things he isn’t willing to sacrifice – not even for Mike.

He has vowed to stay true to his own self and his ideals. He has vowed to make fighting for them his top priority. In moments like this – with Mike’s warmth enclosing him and them breathing in sync – he craves nothing more than to break these vows. But then the feeling that that would be selfish catches up with him. His minor needs and cravings pale in the face of the lack and adversity people like the miners face. How is he supposed to look at himself knowing that people are suffering and he isn’t fighting for their rights because he’s busy satisfying his own selfish needs.

Mark is very aware of the fact that his actions are anything but fair towards Mike. He shouldn’t do this to the man he calls his best friend. How can he even dare to call himself his friend at all? It’s ridiculous. This guilt is eating away at Mark constantly and there are times when he really hates himself. But that doesn’t matter because the alternative seems so much worse. He’ll always choose to have Mike close to him like this – secretly, incompletely, guiltily – rather than not having him at all. Mark wishes he could be a better man for Mike’s sake, but he can’t. And he has no idea why Mike put up with him at all.

Right now there’s no room for guilt in his heart though. Right this moment he’s happy in their little cocoon that’s too small to contain anything but the two of them. Mark allows himself ten more minutes of this bliss before he will open his eyes. Then he’ll have to be the Mark Ashton again who couldn’t care less about love and romance – the one who gives it all to the fight. But not yet. Not for the next ten minutes, he thinks as he caresses Mike’s hand, enjoying the feeling of his friend’s body pressed so close to his own.

Chapter Text

It’s almost silent in the children’s bedroom and Joe is almost warm. He knows he’s lucky to have a bed to sleep in. He’s won it fair and square playing rock-paper-scissors against Jeff. Joe is quite proud that he hasn’t folded under the pressure of Jeff’s pout and given him the bed anyway. Sometimes it’s uncanny how much the beautiful man can use his looks to his advantage. And he knows it too. Joe looks over to the dark silhouette of the man in question currently occupying a sleeping bag on the floor.

Joe is lying in the bottom bunk while the children are sharing the top one. Since they’re breathing rhythmically he assumes they’re asleep. Even though he has probably the best spot in the room, sleep doesn’t come to him. All the impressions of the day are still hovering in his head, keeping him from finding peace. As his head keeps spinning in circles around the events of the day, his eyes wander over to Jeff’s dark form again and again. Joe envies the children of the village a bit. He’d love to be able to get close to Jeff – touch his hair or hug him for no particular reason – without being so flustered all the time.

His thoughts are disrupted by a whisper coming from the floor, “Bromley?” Jeff’s voice is softer than he’s ever heard it, probably to make sure the children won’t wake up. “You’re still awake aren’t you?”

“Yes,”, he answers, turning towards the talking mass of shadows on the floor, “What is it?”

“It’s cold as hell. Could we share the bed to keep warm?” Jeff tries to sound casual, but Joe isn’t fooled that easily.

“You just don’t want to sleep on the floor”, he quips.

“That might be part of it”, Jeff admits into the darkness, “But I’m actually cold. Can’t you find it in your heart to let me into your bed?” Somehow Jeff manages to put a shiver into his voice. The cute pouting look on his face is audible. Still, Joe finds that his inability to see the other man doesn’t quite break the spell of his beauty but at least limits it.

Otherwise he wouldn’t have the resolve to reply, “You know I won the bed fair and square.” But he’s already starting to shift closer to the wall, subconsciously making room for the other man.

“I’m not disputing that. I’m just appealing to your kindness. Come on, Joe, the bed’s wide enough for both of us and if I take up too much space you can still kick me out.” Even though he can’t see him, Joe can perfectly imagine Jeff making puppy eyes at him. They aren’t effective in the dark but the use of his first name is. It suggests exactly the degree of intimacy between them that Joe longs for. Still, he doesn’t want to make it too easy for Jeff.

“I don’t know Jeff. That’s all fine but not really convincing.” Joe’s tone makes it clear that he’s teasing.

Jeff joins in by using his most affected voice as he quips, “Oh Joe, for a gay man you’re alarmingly unwilling to share your bed with a gorgeous young man. I don’t know if you’ve seen my arse but there are plenty men in London who’d pay to have that rubbing against them all night.”

That shuts Joe right up. If Jeff has been going for sexy flirty banter, he’s addressed the wrong person. Joe’s face is burning and he’s never been more grateful for anything in his life than for the darkness that hides his blush. He desperately wants to say something, but for over two minutes nothing comes out. Time stretches and the children’s breathing sounds loud in the uncomfortable silence.

“But you’re not in London now”, Joe finally blurts out. He thinks he can hear a sigh from Jeff.

“No I’m in a fucking Welsh village and I’m fucking freezing. So will you move over?” Joe’s never heard him sound so frustrated. Has he ever even heard him swear like that? Jeff’s tone stings like a slap in the face.

Suddenly there’s a vicious fear taking hold of Joe. It’s very possible that lying close to Jeff, touching like that, will lead to him embarrassing himself even further. But the other man is already getting up. So Joe does the only sensible thing – moving as close to the wall as he can and holding the blanket up so that Jeff can come in.

He does so unceremoniously, lying down further to the edge of the bed with a thud. The distance between them makes it impossible for the blanket to cover both of them comfortably. Jeff gives an exasperated sigh as he grabs the blanket and pulls it towards himself and says, “Come on, Bromley, I don’t bite.” Joe is taken by surprise as he is hauled towards the middle of the bed along with the blanket. Where does this lithe, small man take that kind of strength from?

As their bodies touch, it initially feels as if Joe’s getting burned because the blood rushes to his skin. He has to take a few calming breaths in order to not pull away abruptly. When the first shock passes, he can feel how cold Jeff’s skin is against his own heated flesh. A squeak leaves his mouth just when he’s thought he couldn’t be any more embarrassed. Trying to cover it, Joe exclaims, “God you’re cold!”

“What? Did you think I was lying?”, Jeff asks, sounding mock-insulted by the implication, “In fact, I’m almost always cold. I’m a delicate flower, in case you haven’t noticed.” Joe can’t help but chuckle at Jeff’s affected tone. He slowly relaxes and his body melts more easily against Jeff’s. It feels amazing to be honest. Jeff might look delicate but when you feel him up close he’s all sharp edges and flexing muscles. Joe can feel the blood that has been flooding his skin a minute earlier rushing south to gather in less innocent places.

He tries hard to focus on something decidedly unsexy. The wet kisses from his grandma when he was little come to mind. The half-naked girl asking why he wouldn’t make out with her is a strong contender too. It’s the thought of his dick of a brother in law that finally does the trick. Who would’ve thought that he’d ever be useful?

If Jeff has noticed his inner struggle, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he reaches behind his back to take hold of Joe’s arm and drape it around his own upper body. The younger man’s too busy concentrating on that prick Jason to protest.

“Oh, that’s much better. You’re just like a heating blanket – definitely a quality I value in a man.” Jeff chuckles as he starts to trace patterns on Joe’s hand with his soft fingertips. “Sorry I snapped at you before. I’m just tired as hell. As much as I love the little ones, they can be so exhausting. And I bet by seven in the morning they’ll be up again, demanding entertainment.” He looks up at the top bunk and Joe can imagine the fond look on his face despite the darkness.

“How come you’re so good with children?”, Joe asks, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of Jeff’s incredibly soft skin against his hand.

The other man shrugs. “I have no idea. They’ve always just loved me. I mean, that’s great. When I was younger I always wanted smaller siblings to play with and to protect, but my parents only wanted me. So maybe it’s fate that now I’m getting all the little brothers and sister I’ve always wanted.” Joe can literally hear the placid smile on Jeff’s face. Maybe he spends too much time watching the other man. His intimate knowledge of Jeff’s facial expressions certainly suggests that.

“I have a little niece, you know. She’s still a baby. I’m sure she’d love you and I bet you’d totally adore her.” Joe notices he’s babbling. Must be the fatigue finally catching up with him.

When Jeff answers, his voice sounds sleepy and already a bit far away. “Probably. Maybe I can meet her someday.”

“Yeah, maybe someday.” The words come out slurred as Joe is drifting off to sleep. He buries his face in Jeff’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent that goes so well with his image of the other man. Joe’s too sleepy to question that move. The last thing he notices before he’s fast asleep is Jeff’s hand resting in his, their fingers interlocking.

Chapter Text

When Jeff wakes up, he’s comfortably warm. There’s a heavy body plastered against his own – warm breath tickling his neck deliciously, an erection pressed against his arse. So basically it’s like any other morning. That feeling only changes when he opens his eyes to be faced with two children kneeling in front of the bed, staring at him.

Well, shit!

He blinks a few times but the image in front of his eyes doesn’t change. One part of Jeff wants to desperately get out of this compromising position. How do you explain this to children? What if Sian gets angry and throws them out? What if Joe wakes up and freaks? That part of him wants to cover up the fact that he’s enjoying having Bromley’s boner pressed up against him. There’s another part of him though that wants to be more like Mark – all out and in your face about his sexuality. So what if they are sharing a bed? They haven’t even done anything indecent. They’ve only slept and cuddled a bit. There’s nothing wrong with that just because they’re two men. While the two parts of him are at war, Jeff can’t come up with a good excuse anyway.

“Jeff”, the little red-headed girl draws out his name, “Is Joe in love with you?” It’s so sweet and innocent; he can’t help but chuckle – his worries forgotten for the moment.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Maybe”, Jeff replies honestly. He’d love to know how Joe feels about him. By now he’s pretty frustrated with Bromley always reacting flustered and shy whenever he flirts with him. In the beginning he thought it was cute but now it’s only unnerving. It’s impossible to know what Joe actually thinks of him and Jeff hates how insecure that makes him feel. He’s not used to having to work in order to get laid. Normally a swing of his hips and a come-hither-look are enough to do the trick.

“Do you want him to be in love with you?” Now that’s a tricky question. Jeff isn’t sure about the answer.

“Yes”, that’s what comes out of his mouth while he’s still thinking. Hearing it said out loud only serves to make him realise it’s true. He might be blushing a little bit, but the little girl in front of him is smiling. Even her brother nods solemnly as if it’s been clear to see for everyone. Maybe it has been.

In that moment the door opens and Sian pokes her head inside the room. “Children! What have I told you about disturbing our guests? Let them sleep a bit longer. Now off you go to the bathroom.” The two little ones scurry away. Sian gives Jeff a warm smile before saying, “You two stay in bed as long as you want. I’ll leave some breakfast in the kitchen for you.” And then she’s gone. Jeff’s heart feels like it’s trying to jump out of his ribcage – it’s beating so hard. The heat on his face tells him his blush has intensified.

Jeff has to distract himself from this nervous feeling so he says, “I know you’re awake by the way.” No movement from behind him. Still, Bromley did react when Sian opened the door. Jeff is sure the arm around him has held on a little tighter and Joe’s face has been buried a bit deeper against the nape of his neck. He isn’t ready to examine why Joe’s reaction of holding him closer rather than pushing him away makes him feel giddy.

“You know, Joe, I can feel the heat on your face against my neck. Nobody blushes like that when they’re asleep”, he warbles. Bromley keeps holding his tongue and it almost makes Jeff go crazy. He’s usually the one playing hard to get. Of course he knows Joe isn’t playing. He remembers a time when he didn’t know how to flirt for his life either. It’s because he spent his youth around “normal” people so when everyone else took their first clumsy shots at romance and love he had to shut up about his crush on Jim Henson, who was in his class. Jeff really tries to be empathetic and patient with Bromley because he can relate to that helpless feeling when you don’t know how to react to someone’s affection. However, in moments like this where he’s shaken, Joe’s lack of assent or rejection is too much to take.

Contemplating how to best get a reaction from the other man Jeff has an idea. He wriggles his arse, rubbing it against Joe’s erection. He can hear a deep moan and something sounding like “oh god” from behind him. The unfamiliar deep rumble of Joe’s voice and his lips moving against the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck give Jeff a tingly feeling. He does it again, just for the fun of it. This time Joe mutters, “Stop it!” But he pulls Jeff even closer.

“Oh, you don’t have to be embarrassed”, Jeff says in his affected voice, “As I told you, there are plenty men in London who’d pay to have that arse rub up against them. It’s known to make men feel good.”

A chuckle sounds behind him. “But I get it for free”, Joe quips, sounding a lot more confident and playful than last night. Jeff appreciates that development.

“Did it take you all night to come up with that, Bromley?”, Jeff asks, chuckling too. That turns into a high-pitched giggle when Joe’s hand finds his sensitive nipple and softly rubs over it. The thin fabric of his shirt does nothing to diminish the feeling of the soft fingertips caressing him.

“Two can play this game”, is whispered into his neck with a husky voice. It’s followed by a hot tongue tracing his neck up to the soft spot just behind his ear before gentle teeth pull at the delicate skin. Damn! How does Bromley know how this is done? Has he only been acting innocent? And what's prompted him to drop that act now?

Jeff’s breath is hitching as he murmurs, “Not fucking fair!” He can’t concentrate. Suddenly it’s very hot under the blanket. But he needs to know. “Where do you finally get the guts?”

“Maybe it’s something I heard.” The feeling of Joe’s breath against his wet skin makes a shiver run through Jeff’s body. Then a completely different kind of shiver runs through his mind.

“Wait! What? How long have you been awake?”

“I was awake from the start. I heard everything.”

Oh fuck! Shit shit shit shit! Joe knows! Why the heck does he feel so embarrassed? Jeff buries his face in the pillow to hide that he’s blushing. Having his true feelings revealed like that is bad. He hasn’t had enough time to come to terms with them yet. There’s no way he can face Joe right now. If he could just disappear.

Joe’s hand has left his chest and is caressing his arm now. It’s soothing and maybe that’s the purpose. Joe’s voice sounds warm and maybe more steady than Jeff has ever heard it when he says, “I am in love with you.” Jeff’s heart skips a beat.

And that’s it. That’s as much as Jeff can take. He moves as fast as lightning, getting into an upright position before Joe can stop him. Jeff sits at the edge of the bed – beet red, panting and half hard. When he’s caught his breath, he says, “If I don’t get up now, I will kiss you, and then we’ll make out, and then we’ll defile the children’s bed. I don’t want that. But I want you to come over to my place sometime when we’re back in London so we can finish what we’ve started. I’m off to the bathroom.”

Jeff doesn’t wait for a reaction. He doesn’t have to – he’s said everything there is to say. By the time he’s gathered all the things he needs; Joe is out of bed too. Jeff doesn’t look at him apart from taking a passing glance at the bulge in his pants. Damn! He can’t wait to get back to London.

Chapter Text

Gethin’s staring into the darkness that is Hefina’s living room. He doesn’t know how long he’s been lying awake, but it doesn’t look like sleep will come to him any time soon. His head just won’t shut up. It keeps repeating Hefina’s words to him over and over again. “And what about you? What words have you said to her?”

The answer is none. None at all. He ran away 16 years ago and has never dared to go back. In all that time Gethin’s never been able to shake that hurt look on his mother’s face. It broke his heart – the way his abnormality made her feel like she’d failed horribly in raising him. He’s never gone back, never tried to speak to her again because he fears he might shatter if he has to see that look on her face ever again.

Is he a coward for that? Is he being selfish? “What words have you said to her?” Is it his duty to rebuild the bridges she’s helped to burn? And what if she takes him back? What if she’s forgiven him years ago? What if he could’ve had her back if he’d just had the guts to contact her? Would that make him feel even more stupid and guilty for being such a coward?

“What words have you said to her?” Who does this to his own mother – running away without letting her know where he was? She’s raised him mostly on her own, taken care of him, loved him. And he has disappointed her and run away as if everything she’s done for him was worthless. Gethin is close to tears, trying desperately to blink them away.

He turns to his other side, attempting to convince himself that it’s the too small, slightly uncomfortable sofa of Hefina’s sitting room that’s keeping him from falling asleep.

“You know, if you can’t sleep anyway, you could come down here and let me hold you while you’re beating yourself up”, he hears Jonathan saying from his spot on the floor. Gethin would have given him the sofa of course, but his boyfriend insisted that he’s too tall for that tiny thing before spreading his sleeping bag on the floor.

Gethin is grateful for the distraction. He can even manage a smile as he replies, “Admit it, you only want to use me as a hot-water bottle.” Gethin chuckles when his boyfriend groans as if he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You got me there. But I’m freezing my arse off here. And you’re the one who’ll be worried crazy if I get sick. So come on over my sweet, little Welsh hotty!” Jonathan’s holding his sleeping bag open because Gethin has already started moving towards him.

“Damn! Did your feet die off without informing the rest of your body? How can they be so fucking cold?”, Gethin exclaims, but snuggles up close to the other man anyway. The token resistance isn’t for Jonathan’s sake but for his own. Sometimes Gethin has a hard time acknowledging how much he needs this man to hold and ground him. Admitting to that would make his fear of losing Jonathan even more unbearable. Right now he’s thankful for the warm embrace that momentarily keeps his thoughts outside. He buries his face in Jonathan’s shoulder and inhales the familiar scent. Maybe sometime this will be enough in terms of family and feeling at home. Or maybe he’s just kidding himself.

When he comes up for air, Gethin asks, “Was I really that obvious?”

Jonathan pats his lover’s head gently as he answers, “Oh not that much. It’s just that I could hear the little cogs in your head grinding all the way from the sofa.” Gethin sighs and presses his face into the other man’s shoulder again. Jonathan quips, “And if that hadn’t tipped me off, the fact that you weren’t snoring certainly would have.” That makes Gethin pull away in indignation.

He jabs his finger into his boyfriend’s chest to accentuate his words as he says, “I don’t snore!” Actually he’s grinning, but it’s so dark that it must be impossible to see.

Jonathan laughs quietly and replies, “If that’s how you wanna see it, I have to leave you to your illusions.” Before Gethin can poke him in revenge, Jonathan pulls him close to his chest again. He presses their foreheads together and their lips touch in a gentle kiss. It’s in moments like this that Gethin is almost overwhelmed by his love for this crazy man.

He has calmed down considerably when he asks, “Do you want to know what I was thinking about?”

“Only if you want to tell me.” Of course Jonathan wouldn’t pressure him.

“It’s what Hefina said. About my mum. In 16 years I’ve never gone back to talk to her.” Gethin stumbles over the words. It’s hard to say such things out loud and he wishes Jonathan would say something – anything. But the other man remains silent for now so Gethin continues, “Maybe I should have talked to her. Maybe I should talk to her now.” He can’t go on. The thoughts are all too jumbled in is head.

“But you’re afraid.” It’s not a question. Jonathan knows him too well. Gethin nods. “Well, what’s the worst that could happen? Think it through.” Jonathan’s calm voice is the only thing keeping Gethin from freaking out again.

He takes a few deep breaths before he dares to answer, “She could reject me again.” He simply can’t bring himself to talk about that hurt look on her face. But he continues nonetheless, “She could refuse to talk to me altogether.” Jonathan nods his affirmation.

“Would any of that make you feel worse about the situation than you’re feeling now?” Jonathan’s voice is flat. Gethin hesitates.

“I don’t know.” He sounds like he’s about to cry and he hates it. Jonathan knows how emotional he can get and never says anything about it. Still, Gethin feels bad about it. Sometimes it feels like he doesn’t have the right to feel so sad when Jonathan has it so much worse than he does.

“Yeah. Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you don’t realise how bad you’re feeling about this situation. But maybe I do. You might think I don’t see when you’ve been crying, but I do. And just because we never talk about your past doesn’t mean I can’t see how much you’re hurting.” Now it’s Jonathan who has to take a few deep breaths to steady his voice. “I love you Gethin – when you’re hurting, I’m hurting too. I know you know what that feels like.”

Gethin swallows. It’s not an accusation, just a simple truth. But it makes his heart ache. Of course he knows what it feels like. How could he not? Since he doesn’t know what to say, he hides his face against Jonathan’s shoulder again.

Jonathan sighs and asks, “What’s the best that could happen?” No answer from his lover. “Come on. Think it through. Visualise it.”

“She could talk to me.” Jonathan nods encouragingly. “She could forgive me for running away. She could accept me the way I am. We could stay in touch. I’d know what she’s doing and I could tell her about the shop and about my life. I could tell her about you. Maybe she’d even hug me.” Gethin’s crying by now. Just the simple thought of having his mother close her arms around him again is more than he dares to hope for.

Jonathan holds him close, running his hands over his back and his head, soothing him as sobs wreck through his body. He kisses the top of Gethin’s head and coos into his ear. When the shorter man has calmed a bit, Jonathan asks, “Now would that be worth the risk of having the worst thing possible happen? I mean, what do you have to lose? I think you couldn’t possibly feel more miserable about it than you already are.”

Gethin nods even though he doesn’t quite believe it. “What if she says I could have come to her earlier? Should have come to her earlier! She’ll be angry. Hell, I’ll be angry at myself for staying away for so long.”

“And you think that it’ll get easier when you wait even longer?” Gethin shakes his head, feeling defeated – in a good way if that’s even possible. Jonathan goes on, “It’s not like you left to hurt her. You ran away because you were hurt and didn’t know what else to do. You needed her back then but she couldn’t be there for you. I’m not saying it was easy for either of you.” He says it all into Gethin’s hair, his voice gaining in confidence as he continues. “I think looking back on what you’ve lost won’t solve your problems. You can never get back your past. But you can look forward and try to make the future better. Sorry for sounding cheesy. But I think you’ll understand since you’re the one who taught me that I have to make the best out of the time I’ve left.”

Gethin’s still crying as he’s squeezed even tighter by his boyfriend. Now it’s because he’s so moved by the other man’s words. Jonathan must have been thinking about this for a while. He hasn’t said anything Gethin doesn’t know already, but sometimes it helps to hear your thoughts mirrored by someone else. They’re easier to grasp when they’re said out loud.

He’s too emotional to speak and all the crying has actually made him sleepy. Gethin holds on to Jonathan a little tighter and just enjoys how safe he feels in that embrace.

“You know I’ll support you no matter what you’ll decide to do. I think you just need to sleep on it.” Jonathan’s words work like a charm – or maybe it’s the soothing sound of his heart beating next to Gethin’s ear. It only takes a few more minutes for the Welshman to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Even before Jonathan opens his eyes, he knows Gethin’s already awake. The Welshman’s practically vibrating in his embrace – ready to jump up and run. The question is where. He pulls the shorter man even closer, revelling in his warmth just a little longer. His fingers caress Gethin’s back absentmindedly as he goes through last night’s conversation in his head.

“So you’ve made your decision?”, Jonathan asks when he thinks Gethin is about to explode.

“Good morning, Jonathan.”

As he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by the familiar dark orbs. They look less haunted than last night, but the smile on his lover’s face looks wary. Jonathan cocks an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Yes, I’ve made my decision”, Gethin says, his voice a bit shaky, “I’m going to Rhyl.” Just having finally said it seems to lift a giant weight off of the man’s shoulders. He looks so relieved as he adds, “Today.”

Jonathan doesn’t even try to look surprised. He knows his boyfriend well enough. Sometimes Gethin just has to grit his teeth and get to it. If he doesn’t do the thing immediately it becomes too difficult to even consider it again. So Jonathan has been able to anticipate this turn of events.

“Do you want me to come with you?”, he offers. He knows the answer to that as well, but it’s worth a try anyway. It’s probably more for his sake than for Gethin’s. The people around them might not notice but Jonathan is actually fiercely protective of his partner. Just the thought that he hasn’t been very supportive lately is painful to Jonathan. He was so busy feeling sorry for himself and then getting back on track, that Gethin’s predicament was lost on him. Of course the Welshman’s pain of abandonment and the guilt flared up again as LGSM had made the connection to Wales. Jonathan feels stupid for not making the connection a lot earlier.

But maybe he should heed his own advice. There’s nothing to be done about his failings of the past. He’s apologised. And now he needs to move on and just be there for the love of his life in the future.

“No. That’s something I need to do on my own.” Gethin sighs heavily, pulling Jonathan back from his thoughts. “But you need to bring me to the car. And when I come back...” The Welshman’s voice trails off. His boyfriend pulls him close again, shielding him from what is to come for one more moment.

Jonathan knows at once all the things his lover doesn’t say – can’t say. Throughout the years he’s become very good at reading between the lines. Gethin’s afraid that he might not go through with it, if Jonathan doesn’t put him in the van with nowhere else to go. And he’ll need someone to hold him when he gets back – no matter how the whole thing will turn out.

“I know. I’ll be right here, waiting with open arms.” That seems to calm Gethin down a bit.

Nonetheless, his voice is still small and slightly panicked as he asks, “Do you think it’ll work out?”

“I think it will help you”, Jonathan answers softly before he lets go of Gethin, releasing him into the cold morning air to fulfil his fate. There is no point giving him false hope, especially since Jonathan didn’t even know the first thing about his lover’s mother. He hopes that that will change soon. The woman who brought someone as wonderful as Gethin into this world was deserving of his thanks. Still, Jonathan couldn’t help but resent her for hurting her own son so badly.

As Gethin returns from the bathroom, Jonathan watches him get dressed and ready for the day. He looks intently, scanning for any signs or doubt or an upcoming break-down. But all he can see in his boyfriend’s face is fierce determination. It makes him so proud and it makes him remember why he fell in love with this wonderful strong man. Where would they be today without that determination?

When Gethin’s ready to leave, Jonathan gets up and throws over a blanket as a meagre protection from the cold that awaits them outside.

They stand next to the bus and hug as Jonathan whispers, “You can do this.”

“I know”, is Gethin’s reply, sounding almost a bit indignant.

“I know”, Jonathan says with a confident smile, “Just thought it sometimes helps to hear it said out loud.” Gethin presses a kiss to his lips to shut him up.

There’s nothing more to say, so the Welshman gets into the bus and drives off without looking back. Jonathan remains outside for a moment, his gaze following the vehicle and its fragile cargo as it becomes smaller in the distance. With a sigh he goes back inside, hoping that this meeting will go well for the man he loves.