Chapter Text
Guilt tastes like blood in his mouth after he got into a bar fight. Guilt feels like the times he told his mom he was hanging out with a friend but going to buy pills. He doesn’t remember the first time he felt happy, but he remembers the first time he felt guilt sink into his body and fill every pore.
Sitting in their dark apartment, he’s more than guilty–not that said feeling has vanished since Carlos’s hours at work stretched from one or two hours over his shift to double shifts on the regular.
Tonight, as he half-watches a trashy reality show he only started to break the silence, he feels like an idiot for thinking anyone would ever put TK Strand first. The closer the clock gets to midnight, the stronger the thought and guiltier he becomes.
For years, there’s been a voice in his head. When he was younger, it was a whisper which only appeared when he made a mistake. As he grew older, the voice became a poisonous presence forever in the back of his mind. There to remind him he was stupid, no one loved him, and he was unlovable. The drugs were effective in hushing the monologue, but it always returned. An unwanted guest he’s never been able to evict.
You’re so stupid for ever thinking someone would love you forever. Who would ever want someone so needy? Who would ever put you first? You’re always going to be someone’s second choice. Always meant to be forgotten. Unloved.
He picks up his phone. A picture of Carlos cupping his face as he kisses him greets him along with the clock ticking over to 12:01 AM. No texts light up his screen.
Another promise broken. Another night spent alone.
His first anniversary is in tatters.
TK wakes up before sunrise with an arm slung over his waist, and as he grasps for his phone in the dark, he prays the previous day was a bad dream. The glow of his phone screen dashes any hope. It’s five in the morning after his first wedding anniversary.
It’s not the first time he slips out of Carlos’s grip with practiced ease. Their schedules are hectic enough that they’ve both become pros, but it’s been years since TK’s felt he needed to get himself as far away from Carlos as possible.
What did you expect? He hates this voice so much.
He heads to the kitchen, where the leftovers from last night stare at him. The bouquet. The wrapped gift. The unlit candles. The meal Paul spent weeks teaching him to prep and cook, so Carlos could come home from his shift and see his husband tried. Tried for him. Even the universe seems to laugh at all the work he spent coordinating to have today and tomorrow off.
Everything is mocking him, and TK resists the urge to sweep everything off the table so he can see it crash. Instead, he walks to the counter to make himself a coffee. At this point, getting back to sleep is impossible, and he’s supposed to have moved beyond self-destructive tendencies.
Except, at this moment, he feels like his entire universe has crumpled in on itself—a black hole shattering him into millions of pieces.
Tears gather in the corners of his eyes. All the emotions he pushed down yesterday now rise to the top of his throat to claw their way out. Standing at the counter, he grips the countertop so tightly that he’s surprised he doesn’t leave fingerprints on the granite. He can’t move. Maybe he’ll be stuck here forever. A permanent fixture in their kitchen. He just wishes he could sink into the floor.
Too wrapped up in his mind, he doesn’t hear Carlos behind him. He doesn’t expect the arms around his middle or the kiss on his neck. Every atom in his body stiffens when lips brush the shell of his ear.
“What are you doing up so early? Calendar says you have today off.”
“Did the calendar also say yesterday was our anniversary?”
He doesn’t want his words to come out as a snap, but they do. And the arms around his waist loosen, and TK pushes out of the circle of Carlos’s arms. When he faces Carlos, the man looks like a punch found him in the solar plexus. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is open in a perfect O-shape. Any sleep that might have clung to him like a coat is gone in the blink of an eye.
“Our anniversary. Tyler, I’m so…”
TK holds a hand up, pressing it against Carlos’s chest so he can work some distance between them.
“You don’t get to call me that. Your shift was scheduled to end at six. We agreed with the therapist to balance your job and our relationship, and…and you couldn’t even do that.”
TK gestures at the remains of what was their anniversary. He doesn’t feel ready to look Carlos in the eyes again, and he exhales before he closes his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I…I messed up. I was looking through the files, and I think I found a lead. After a year, I finally know where to go... TK, I’m so sorry.”
Whatever appropriate communication skills he learned throughout years of therapy, leave his head. His eyes fly open, and he no longer feels guilt, or anger, or sadness. No, he feels numb.
“You’re sorry? I stayed up all night waiting for you, feeling bad that I was angry you weren’t here because you’re working? How awful that made me feel?”
“Do you know how many people depend on me? Do you know how many homicides and kidnappings I’m investigating right now? On top of trying to figure out who killed my father in his own home?”
“I know! How many times have we had this conversation?” TK rubs a hand over his face. “Did you even think about our anniversary? Because look around. I did.”
For the first time, it looks like Carlos registers the scene he missed the previous night. Then, most damning of all, Carlos ducks his head and clears his throat. It’s enough of an answer, and TK scoffs, shaking his head as he crosses his arms across his chest.
In front of him stands the love of his life. His husband. His soulmate. Even if he were blind, he would know the curve of Carlos’s lips, the shape of his hands, and the way the air shifts when Carlos walks into a room. But, at this moment, he doesn’t think he recognizes him. The distance between them feels impenetrable. An ocean he can’t cross. A cliff he can’t climb.
The wetness gathering in his eyes spills over, and Carlos steps forward to comfort him, but TK steps out of the way. As much as he wants comfort, he knows Carlos is on autopilot.
“Don’t. You don’t get to do that right now.” His voice cracks, and his lower lip quivers in a way he knows is ugly.
“Baby, please. I’m sorry. I love you.”
“Do you?” He asks. “Because sometimes I look at you and don’t think you see me. You’ll be here, but you’re not with me. Your mind is always somewhere else.”
“Our anniversary and my father’s death are so close to each other. I need to solve this. I don’t have time for distractions or…” Carlos trails off. The words were a mistake. TK knows this. But the words are now in the universe, hitting TK like bullets in the heart. Too bad these won’t kill him.
“So I’m a distraction?” His lips form a thin line and Carlos a blur from the tears. He wipes his eyes. “Got it.”
Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but Carlos doesn’t lock up this time. Instead, he clenches his fists and tugs at his hair. “I don’t understand why this is so hard for you. Sam’s wife understands. Why can’t you?”
Both of their emotions are a rubber ball ricocheting between them, and they can’t get a grasp on them. Unable to hold on to any of them long enough to stabilize.
“Maybe you should find a husband like Sam’s wife?” He covers his eyes and takes a deep, shuddery breath. “Fuck, sorry. That was too much. I feel…” He trails off. This argument doesn’t seem like one he can solve with I-statements, but he’ll try. “I know you’re grieving. I’ve been there, but you’re not here for me to help. Let me help you, please. Stop drifting away from me. Why do you think we’re seeing a counselor?”
Carlos rolls his eyes. TK’s sharp volley of words found their mark. Exhaustion has taken over Carlos and found its way into every fiber of his being. He understands why his level-headed husband feels this way. He’s hurting. They’re both hurting.
“Yeah, like that’s really helping us,” Carlos says.
It’s so unlike him. Have the long nights and vending machine dinners taken their toll? Did they change him so much in so little time?
“You didn’t even try!” TK yells, finally cracking. “You didn’t take it seriously. You just sat there. Would you even care if I died, or would that be one less distraction for you?”
Now, they’ve both said things they’ll regret. Words impossible to take back. In the dimly lit kitchen, they stare at each other as dawn filters through the windows.
“Don’t ever say that again. We’ve talked about this.”
But it’s too late. He has already closed and latched the shutters around his heart. Too tight to open now. TK brushes past Carlos and goes to their bedroom to throw clothes in the first bag he can find. Carlos is right behind him, but it’s too late. Their home feels suffocating. His existence feels like too much.
“Tyler, please,” Carlos says. Gone is the anger and the sadness. In its place is the same numb tone he uses with the therapist. “What is going on?”
“I need space. I’m sorry,” TK says, pulling on a hoodie and jeans. “I’m sorry for being so awful and selfish, but…I need to be elsewhere before I blame myself more.”
There’s a mental list of things he needs to do: call Cooper, call his therapist.
“You can’t leave things like this,” Carlos says. At least he’s smart enough to realize he shouldn’t reach an arm out to bridge the distance growing between them.
He knows it’s too late. You’ve ruined everything again.
TK wipes his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You know I’m selfish and cruel, Carlos. Here’s another example for you.” He’s got about three days’ worth of clothes in the duffle he uses for the gym. Good enough. “I’ll see you at couples’ counseling.”
Sometimes, TK doesn’t know what he wants but can see the paths diverging in front of him. There’s always a good universe and a bad universe.
In one universe, Carlos wraps his arms around him and tries to keep him from leaving. In another universe, Carlos steps to the side and lets him leave. As he shrugs the bag over his shoulder, he doesn't know which universe he wants. He wants to be chased. He wants to be left alone. He knows he’ll know it when he sees it.
At the moment, he knows he needs to get the hell out of their home and get his head back on straight.
When Carlos steps to the side and can’t even meet his eyes, TK knows this is the bad universe.
“Take care of Lou,” TK says. He called Uber when he started parking, and now it’s turning onto their street.
The door shuts behind him with a foreboding click, and TK wonders if there’s a universe where he’s happy, where the little voice in his head isn’t poisoning every thought.
He blinks. Somehow he's gone from their home to the Uber, resting his head against the car window as Austin passes by.
Maybe there’s a universe out there where he’s better at being supportive, like Sam’s wife, or a universe out there where Carlos’s father wasn’t murdered. A universe where they’re blissfully happy, planning their future together, instead of trying to piece together the fractured remnants of their present. Planning a bigger tank for Lou, or a dog, or children, or, or, or…