Archive of Our Own ^beta

Colin visited Jared at his house last night, just as planned during their last hike. Their connection had been rekindled by a chance meeting at a Malibu trailhead several weeks earlier. They had almost passed each other, their faces hidden behind masks. While the trail was unusually busy, filled with hikers seeking solace from the pandemic's stress and social distancing, Jared found himself inexplicably drawn to one man. This man had a medium-sized dog on a leash, its features resembling a mixed breed of an Austrian Pinscher. Jared couldn't remember if Colin had recently become a dog owner. Their interactions had been sporadic and unpredictable over the years.

In a moment of impulse, Jared called out Colin's name. The man and his dog stopped abruptly and turned to face him. The spark of recognition in the man's brown eyes confirmed Jared's guess, while his honey-colored companion barked at him protectively. After their initial surprise, awkward hugs, and stilted greetings, they quickly warmed up as they set out together.

This led to weekly meetings where not only did Jared and Colin reconnect, but Jared and Luna the dog soon bonded. Colin wasn't surprised; Jared had always had a special affinity for four-legged creatures. Whether it was dogs, horses, or birds, he had a unique ability to gain their trust and affection. However, when it came to bonding with his fellow humans, he didn't always have the same luck or patience. His interactions with them were often more challenging.

The previous night, Colin brought Thai takeout for dinner, and they watched movies until they dozed off on the couch like old people. With no pressing commitments, Colin stayed over. His older son was in Malibu, and the younger one was on vacation with his mom. Colin had his sister take care of the cat and dog. No urgent business appointments loomed on the horizon.

As the clock ticks past 8:30, sunlight streams through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow. Jared is making coffee for Colin and observes him from behind the glass. Like a ghost from days gone by he wanders around the backyard of Jared’s ‘creative temple’, a former military film studio nestled in Laurel Canyon. The compound exudes an offbeat vibe that suits Jared's tastes perfectly. It's a blend of Cold War secrecy and hippie nostalgia. In a sort of natural progression, it became a rehab facility at one point. Most importantly, it provides ample space for Jared's collection of music equipment and valuable art pieces, as well as workspace for his staff.

Despite owning a home in Nevada, Jared still spends more time here in Los Angeles. Cutting ties with the city is a challenge. His troubled relationship with the man who now stands barefoot by the pool, soaking in the first sunlight while having a smoke, had been a major factor in Jared’s desire to leave. A decade ago, after returning from his band's whirlwind world tour, it felt as if the vastness of the city had shrunk - every corner echoing with memories of Colin. Still, Jared clung to this place out of a commitment to their shared dream, even if that dream had proven elusive. Getting away from here, no matter the destination, felt like a relief. He cherished this newfound lightness, reluctant to surrender it again.

In recent years, Jared had made some moves, including purchasing a house in Las Vegas. He considered settling in Europe; its appeal lay in minimizing the strain of long-distance travel. Besides, Valery, his on-and-off model girlfriend, twenty-two years his junior, preferred to live in the Moscow-Saint Tropez-Paris triangle. Then again, he never minded roaming the skies. Nor did he mind roaming them alone.

Outside, Jared joins Colin, both men barefoot. Colin turns at the sound of Jared’s footsteps. His eyes crinkled at the corners, a smile tugs at his lips. Jared holds out the steaming mugs

“Two?” Colin asks, well aware that Jared isn’t much of a coffee enthusiast.

“Yeah,” Jared replies, pausing in his explanation as he hands Colin a mug. The unspoken connection between them needs no further words.

Colin's salt-and-pepper hair is still damp from a recent shower. A light breeze carries his scent to Jared—a mixture of shower gel, lingering perfume, and, of course, a faint trace of cigarettes.

No use nagging about his smoking. Jared had tried to change Colin before, only to find that pressuring someone else to change was an epic waste of energy. There's just no logic to the human psyche, no tried and tested formula for reshaping stubborn egos. Most personal change happens subtly and unnoticed even by the person being changed. It’s akin to the gradual process of aging, or Colin’s evolution into a devoted father, or his own journey towards becoming more forgiving.

In his younger years, Jared had picked many unnecessary fights, always on guard, expecting hostility from others. His early outlook on life was tinged with misanthropy, which often served as an excuse for his bullying behavior.

Reflecting on his past battles — some utterly humiliating, others triumphant – he came to appreciate a simple truth: life is fleeting, and harshness toward oneself and others is of limited value.

As Jared studies his friend’s face, he acknowledges his own transformation. The urge to engage in heated arguments with him and the constant irritability he once mistook for strength are gone. Pressuring Colin to quit smoking had been a foolish endeavor in the first place, and taking offense was even more misguided.

At fifty, Jared experiences a tranquility that was absent in his youth. His financial stability contributes to this, of course, and his status as the handsomest man in the room seems to follow him effortlessly. But there is more to it than that.

Jared has learned to release his worries and savor life, a trait he’s always admired in Colin. Even at twenty-four, Colin exhibited a level of inner freedom and discernment that Jared, despite being five years older, struggled to match.

Jared’s recollections of their time on the Alexander set are vivid. He remembers Colin’s generosity that effortlessly attracted everyone. He radiated a natural authority. Colin’s charisma was legendary among their colleagues. Even now, Jared can’t think of anyone who matches Colin’s presence. The experience changed him forever and inspired him to be better.

Once upon a time, Colin had been Jared's confidant, his companion in the night, and the keeper of their deepest secrets. They'd shared laughter, tears, and whispered dreams. But their paths had diverged. Yet here they were again, not happily ever after, but side by side, sipping coffee in the morning silence.

Birds chirping and the distant hum of the city provide the soundtrack. Airplanes trace invisible lines across the sky. Jared breaks the silence.

"Is the coffee any good?" he asks.

Colin frowns, then winks. "Yeah… it's fine," he replies. Jared nods, a small smile tugging at his lips.

They stroll around the pool and sit down on the steps under a sprawling sycamore tree.

"I'm glad we did this," Colin says, his chin resting on his left hand, his eyes fixed on the sparkling blue-green pool in front of them.

"Me too," Jared replies. "That was really nice. Just like the old days."

Colin nods. "Some things never…" They look at each other startled and laugh, realizing that they are speaking at the same time. This has happened many, many times. Their laughter fades until they sit in silence again, sipping their coffee, content.

But things change, and they both know it. In the early days, their communication was constant—countless text messages, phone calls, and emails exchanged. Farrell and Leto, constantly vying for each other’s attention, even if subliminally. That’s how they were. There could’ve been no two hearts beating so in unison as theirs.

Now those two decades of once meaningful words are scattered like leaves, lost to time. They exist as echoes, as if they never had weight or substance. Funny, Jared muses, he never expected to run out of words to say to Colin.

Colin interrupts his reverie. "You know," he says, "we've been avoiding the subject, but I think I should put it on the table at least once, for the sake of honesty — and sanity between us — I still think about us sometimes — the 'situationship' if you like. Just in case you're wondering.”

Jared glances at him, distaste flickering across his features. Colin catches it immediately.

"If you'd rather keep avoiding the subject," Colin continues, "just say the word. I'm good, we're good. I didn't mean to unearth the rotten bones of our affair here, believe me." He chuckles. "It's always been a bit of a mood killer."

Jared smirks. He pulls his shoulders down, trying to relax, trying to release himself. "No, no, it's okay," he replies, searching for words. "Um… go on."

“You sure?” Colin asks.

Jared nods. “We’re good,” he reassures Colin, locking eyes with him. “I guess this conversation is long overdue… So, yeah, tell me what’s on your mind,” he says, swallowing his doubts.

Colin takes a deep breath, sunlight dancing on the pool water, casting amber hues in his irises. His head tilts, his elbow rests on his knee and his forehead leans against his right hand.

“Remember,” Colin begins, “how you used to remind me, year after year, about our time in Morocco? You insisted that denying what we had made no sense to you. You’d fight for it, no matter what?”

Jared nods, his mind awash with vivid memories.

“And then, ten years ago, you distanced yourself from me and found new lovers, investments, and adventures. Suddenly, all those finite exclamations lost their weight; all your 'nevers' and 'forevers' evaporated like mist." Colin punctuates his words with a sweeping gesture, as if dispersing invisible particles. "Frankly, I find it puzzling," he adds, sipping his coffee, his gaze fixed on Jared.

“That happened to you, too,” Jared counters, pointing at Colin. “You didn’t waste any time pursuing new opportunities either.”

Jared recalls his own bewilderment when he first learned of Colin’s public dating life—the paparazzi capturing him with a new girlfriend. Something he'd abstained from for five years, something he'd taken great pains to avoid, to prove something to Jared—a silent testament to something he’d done for Jared’s sake, something Jared hadn’t fully appreciated until then.

“Yeah,” Colin concedes, “I started seeing other people again. But only after you’d broken up with me.”

“I did not break up with you,” Jared insists, the weight of their shared history pressing against his chest.

“Did you not…” Colin quips, humming a few notes from ‘Up in the Air’ and dramatically belting out the “Take no more” part. His smirk reveals no bitterness.

Jared catches his breath, his tongue tracing his teeth and lips. "I was seriously fed up with you and our… situationship, okay?" Jared replies, trying to sound less defensive.

"You made that clear, Jared. Very clear." Colin replies plainly, but a hint of anguish leaks from beneath his lowered eyelids. Jared reads his expression carefully and sighs. "I thought we had put that behind us," he says in a quiet, disappointed tone.

Colin waves his hand. "We have. No hard feelings," he reassures. 

"So what?" Jared presses.

Colin rotates the cup in his hands slowly. “You know, whenever I reflect on how things turned out between us, I wonder what if had never crossed certain boundaries—never fucked, never kissed, never overstepped.”

“Why would you think that?” Jared’s tone is flat.

Colin locks eyes with Jared, and a soft breeze stirs the leaves above them. “Haven’t you?" Colin asks. The words linger in the air, a gentle blow against Jared’s consciousness. No, such thoughts have never crossed Jared’s mind.

Colin maintains eye contact. “What if we’d stayed sober? What kind of friendship could we have today? I imagine something like yesterday, but without the baggage. No secrecy. The creative possibilities we could have explored together. It might have spared us both so much trouble, pain, and fucking regret. We could’ve evolved as people and as artists. Become better versions of ourselves. Remember how we envisioned it back then? You and me, taking on the world together.”

Colin's brown eyes sparkle with a familiar intensity as he speaks, his voice imbued with an engaging enthusiasm that breathes life into even the most ordinary words. It's a gift unique to an actor — the ability to spin gold from rubbish. And while Jared is well aware of this talent, deep down he's always known that Colin is sincere.

From their first meeting, Colin and Jared shared an unspoken understanding. Discovering that their minds were aligned was both a surprising and transcendent experience — one they cherished. It was love at first understanding; any other form of attraction was still hibernating in the dark, nourished by their gestures and words to each other, growing until it had enough strength to see the light. At first, it was only the purest kind of empathy.

And so, Jared can never resist the emotional impact of Colin’s expressive speech patterns. Each word carries weight and resonates for him. It’s a language of the soul. 

“We were dreamers, man,” Colin admits, “perhaps deluded to a certain degree, but I still believe it was possible. And we let our egos carry us away too easily.”

Jared, his shoulders squared, and eyes filled with determination, feels a surge of protest, but Colin gestures for him to wait.

“I want you to know, Jared,” Colin continues, “that I am sorry. Deeply sorry. I lacked the maturity and sobriety to stop it back then. I was a reckless idiot who thought he had it all figured out. I believed I could handle it, but I was out of my depth with you.”

“Wait a minute! It wasn't just you.” Jared interrupts, his frustration bubbling over.

“No, it wasn't. You were also wrong to push it. It was a game for you and getting me laid was your prize. I’m aware of that.”

Jared releases an exasperated growl. “Not this bullshit again, Colin!” he mutters, turning away.

“I'm not antagonizing you here,” Colin asserts, earning a dismissive snort in response. 

“Look at me, Jared, please.” Colin gently prods Jared's elbow, coaxing him to turn his gaze. 

“We both have our truths, Jay, don't we? We have both held grudges and tried to get rid of them over the last few years. And let's not pretend otherwise when half of your musical output makes me look like the biggest asshat you've ever known. Shall I recite some more lyrics, huh?”

“Fuck off,” Jared snaps.

“When I say I don't blame you for the past, I mean it,” Colin insists, placing his hand over his heart.

“I don't care about the fucking songs,” he claims. “Not anymore.”

Colin waits for Jared to meet his eyes again. The warm breeze carries the sounds of hammers and drills from a building site to them. The wind has picked up since they sat down, the leaves rustle in constant excitement, dispersing their thoughts and moods and scattering them thinly. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Jared turns his head, and Colin looks pleased to have his attention back.

“I never wanted to see you suffer like this,” Colin says calmly, in a soft voice. “I wish I could undo it all. I wish I could go back and take this weight off your chest. No thrilling sexual high with you, no orgasm was worth the shite it put us through. I always wanted to be with you, but I was so caught up in my own mental prison that I couldn't tell right from wrong, so I pushed you away for years. I didn't know what else to do to stay functional other than keep you out of my life. I am so sorry for that. Every time I broke your heart, every tear, and every moment of anger and frustration, I am ashamed. I carry it with me. It shouldn't have been this way. If I could change it, I would.”

“Did you really think you broke my heart?” Jared asks, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes betray the pain behind his sarcastic tone.

Colin responds with a silent nod.

“And did I break yours?”

Colin nods again. “When you told me to go to fuck myself, and never returned,” he confesses.

Jared looks at him intensely, as if seeing through him.

“You didn’t really expect me to return, did you?” he states in a matter-of-fact tone. The other man refrains from responding.

“So we’re square, then, I suppose.”

Colin stares at Jared, as if seeking a lifeline or a hint of forgiveness, but Jared has nothing more to give.

“I don’t regret anything, Colin,” he declares firmly. “Never have.”

Colin offers a weak smile, his eyes welling up with tears. He wipes them away with his wrist, muttering, “Sorry.” He looks down and takes a deep breath, attempting to steady his shaking nerves.

Jared’s throat tightens. He reaches out, gripping Colin’s shoulder, giving him a slight shake in an attempt to snap him out of his temporary despair. “All that matters is that we’re good now. Come on,” he urges.

Colin covers Jared’s hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Jared feels a teardrop on his skin. It’s the first time they’ve touched since Colin arrived. Jared doesn’t recall the last time. If he asked Colin, would he remember? Jared has intentionally erased the memories of Colin’s touch from his mind, and he’s surprised by how successful he’s been.

Jared pulls his hand back from under Colin’s, trying to hide his confusion. Sensing this, Colin turns his head to look at him. He immediately grasps that Jared doesn’t want him to see his inner turmoil.

“I’ve moved on,” Jared announces, “and so have you. I don’t want to live in the past. I’m sorry, Colin. I appreciate your apology, though. I accept it, but…” he stops and frowns. He looks away, his eyes fixed on something that Colin can’t see.

“But?” Colin prompts. Jared turns to face Colin again, his lips pressed into a tight line, his jawline visible even beneath a full beard.

“You moved on.” Colin voices what Jared is thinking. His tone is resigned.

“What do you expect me to say? I’m not one to wallow in my sorrows; I'm a do-or-die kind of guy, and you know that. I decided to leave it all behind. I usually don’t question my decisions. I have a lot on my plate right now, and I have to be honest with you: I don’t have the mental space to revisit the remnants of our relationship, or whatever it was. I let it go, and you should too.”

Colin looks at Jared, his eyes showing a mix of sympathy and disappointment. It makes Jared question himself, despite the beliefs he just stated. He hates that.

“Is there anything else you want to say?” Jared asks, knowing he might sound a bit condescending.

Colin shakes his head. “I don’t know, Jay… I don’t know what I hoped for from you. Something more, I guess.” He stares into his mug for a while.

Jared watches him think. He observes the emotions on Colin’s face. He wants to know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t want to know. He looks at his ex-lover nervously, as Colin straightens up and sighs, and intercepts before Colin can open his mouth.

“Listen, we’ve both changed a lot since we separated; we’ve both grown. Maybe it’s time we adjusted our expectations,” Jared suggests.

Colin considers his words, and his gaze is thoughtful on Jared. “You know, while that’s true, it’s also true that you changed more. I’m still pretty much the same, and I can tell ya, the me from twenty years ago wouldn’t recognize you. You’d be a total fucking stranger to him.”

Jared’s eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping his lips. The weight of Colin’s words sinks in, leaving him momentarily speechless. Finally, he manages to utter a single word, “Okay.”

Before he can recover, Colin goes on. “We reach out, we get hurt, and we learn. There’s beauty in this cycle of growth, even if it’s painful. And I think you just opened my eyes, and I should be grateful for that. What you said is a wake-up call that I should stop clinging to an illusion like the naive kid I was at 19. You know, the illusion that you and I are one soul in two bodies.”

Jared can't stand sitting next to him anymore. He jumps up and gives him a bewildered look. "Yeah, we all get there sooner or later. What's your fucking point now, Colin?" he snaps impatiently.

Colin lifts his gaze to meet Jared’s. Jared is struck by a familiar sensation, a strange tickle of recognition. Could it be that Colin is deriving some satisfaction from seeing him upset? Colin used to provoke him, test him, push his buttons in the past. It’s an odd feeling to experience that dynamic again.

“Perhaps I was hoping for some words of regret or comfort from you,” Colin confesses, his voice raw. “I blamed myself for the failure of our relationship. I believed you couldn’t trust me enough to stay. That doubt, that chasm—it tore us apart. You made that clear. I’ve accepted my share of the blame, so I don’t hold you responsible. I’ve made peace with it. But… I might have harbored a need for you to apologize to me. A need to hear you acknowledge that you treated me like a cold-hearted bastard, and that I didn’t deserve it.”

Colin’s eyes brim with emotion. He sets down his cup, rising to his feet. Now they stand face to face, the air charged with unspoken history. Colin runs a hand through his hair, as if trying to  physically comb out the remnants of old heartache.

“But you just made it clear you’re not sorry,” Colin continued, his voice steady but heavy. “You’re fine with everything you’ve done. You’ve always had this tit-for-tat mentality. Not much empathy for others. That was never me. As much as it hurts now, honest to God, I don’t hate you for who you are. You can’t change yourself any more than I can. I used to think I was a positive influence on you—balancing your ego, helping you see beyond your own flaws. Even when I was a screw-up myself. But now, Jared, I realize I did. Maybe you didn’t appreciate it all that much. Maybe you didn’t like questioning yourself and your actions. So here we are. Estranged lovers, estranged friends. What do we call ourselves now? What are we now? And where do we go from here?”

Jared’s face is a picture of shock, almost resembling a wax figure in its detached state. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say.” He draws a shaky breath, attempting to piece together his fragmented thoughts and regain his composure. His eyes are aflame with frustration.

“You just fucking blindsided me.”

Colin’s gaze is locked onto Jared’s. His hands rest on his hips, while Jared’s arms are crossed defensively. The weight of their shared history hangs over them like a storm cloud, threatening to burst.

With a sigh of resignation, Colin lifts his hand to his forehead, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that. I don’t know what came over me,” he admits, a frown creasing his brow.

“Perhaps it was for the best that we remained apart,” he muses, his gaze drifting across the backyard, inadvertently seeking an escape. Squinting, his voice wavers as he confesses, “It’s just that… I still see you as the man you were in Morocco—the one who vowed never to leave me, and… I suppose I haven’t truly grieved for him yet.”

His words strike Jared like soft bullets, hitting their mark with effortless precision. Jared gasps for air through clenched teeth, his eyes never leaving Colin. There’s a restless glint in them. The surface of the water is disturbed, the tree branches sway, and wisps of Jared’s hair flutter across his face.

“I should leave,” Colin says, choking up.

“Perhaps you should,” Jared concedes, gasping for breath. Despite the lump in his throat, he manages to utter, “It’s oddly comforting to know that our situationship still has the power to dampen the mood. I guess we’ve come full circle, Col…”

A small, bitter-sounding chuckle escapes Colin. He searches Jared’s eyes, watching him struggle to maintain a smile. When he fails, he looks down, stunned. At nearly fifty, Jared has the face of a little boy, and Colin feels a pang for him and for his flawed heart. How can someone so self-assured and egocentric appear so lost?

Colin thinks he has been too harsh towards Jared. He's also rattled by what came out of his own mouth. Did he really demand an apology? He did; it's as clear as the blue in Jared's eyes. And now, Colin must come to terms with it.

“Let’s declare a truce, Jared…”

Jared swallows hard and nods. "Yeah, let's," he says under his breath. It’s the final straw. Letting go and turning the page, at least for now, has always been their only path forward.

Colin grabs his sneakers, and they cross the backyard to Colin's SUV, the asphalt not yet too hot to walk on barefoot. Both men struggle to control their emotions. Jared feels a storm brewing in his chest but remains mute. His eyes are fixed on the ground, his eyebrows knit together. Colin glances at him.

"Thanks for the coffee... I appreciate it," he says, breaking the silence as they reach the car. His soft voice laden with emotion.

Jared nods. They exchange glances. Jared misses his sunglasses now, not just because the sun is blinding him where he stands, but because he can see Colin’s pain as clear as daylight, and Colin can see his.

“Take care, Jay,” Colin murmurs, his voice trembling as he extends a hand. Jared hesitates to close the distance between them, but when he does, they hold on for a few moments, their eyes locked.

“You too, Colin,” Jared whispers, barely audible. Colin squeezes his hand gently as he nods.

And then Colin whispers, “Sorry, I messed up."

He wishes he hadn't said it; he's craved forgiveness enough today, and for what? But he can't help it. 

“I should have known it would get out of hand. You knew.”

Jared squeezes his fingers gently. “It's okay, all right? I can handle this,” he says with a strained voice.

Colin looks at him, trying to calm the storm inside. He wants to know if and how they can have a future after he has unloaded all his pent-up frustration. It's not that he wasn't right; it's just that he doesn't want to end this on a bitter note.

He lets go of his hand and fumbles for his car keys. With a turn of the key, he unlocks the door of his hybrid and tosses his shoes into the passenger footwell. Before settling into the driver's seat, he pauses. Lost in thought, his dark eyebrows furrow and shield his gaze. Then he turns to look at Jared again, vulnerability etched into his expression. 

“I don’t want to be chained to the past either, Jared. If you find a way to navigate it, let me know, okay? Right now, it’s a mountain between us—so high that even you can’t scale it.”

Jared catches the hint. The previous night he had shared with Colin how fulfilling he found climbing. Not for the first time, he'd vividly described to a wide-eyed Colin the moment he nearly fell to his death while climbing with Alex Honnold. A frayed rope had left him dangling, and he’d started to resign himself to the inevitable. That's when things began to shift. 

Jared contemplates Colin’s words. His hands slip into his sweatpants pockets, his eyebrows crease.

“You and me back then,” Jared says calmly, “we always thought we couldn’t make it. Each fucking problem seemed insurmountable, yet somehow we pulled through.”

“Because we convinced ourselves to believe that we would,” Colin states matter-of-factly.

Jared nods, his long brown hair falling over his flannel shirt. “Yeah, we had faith…”

“But to be honest,” Colin interjects, cutting Jared off before he can finish, “I don’t have the faith right now that we can ever be more than flawed people, regretting our flawed past," he adds, echoing Jared's earlier sentiment. "Not after all this. And that prospect is fucking bleak, if you ask me.”

Jared presses his lips together and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.

“Speak for yourself, Col, I don’t have any flaws,” he retorts with a hint of self-deprecating humor, unflinching.

A small, sad chuckle escapes Colin. He wipes his eyes with his wrist. “I really should be going,” Colin repeats. 

When he meets Jared’s gaze, he sees a mix of affection and sorrow, and the same wounded look he wore a few minutes ago after their poolside exchange. It wouldn’t take much to pull him close and melt into one of those comforting hugs they used to share, but he doesn’t dare cross that line. It would be inappropriate.

“It was good to see ya, Jared,” Colin says, patting him on the shoulder and gently on the cheek.

Jared’s head bobs in his direction as he mumbles, “Yeah, same,” and with a hint of sadness in his voice, he adds, “See you soon, Colin.”

Colin nods and gets into the car.

Jared steps back, walks to the fence control, and turns it on. He watches as the SUV pulls out of one of the spaces usually reserved for his staff. Colin rolls down the window, extends his tanned forearm, and waves as he drives past. Jared waves back.

As Colin disappears, Jared feels his heart sink, but chooses to ignore it. He closes the fence and walks back to the pool. The cups are still there under the sycamore tree. He stares at them as they face each other like empty vessels in a hopeless standoff.

He thinks about Colin’s eyes, their warmth drawing him in. Unlike anyone else, Colin’s effect is unparalleled, which is why Jared tried to suppress it for the past eight years.

Jared picks up the cups. As soon as he holds them, his knees buckle. He kneels on the ground, the cups still in his grasp. Tears start to flow, and he can't hold them back.

There is so much pain seeking an outlet. And yes, he feels the weight; he feels the regret. He hurt him on purpose. And he's so sorry, for all of it.

It's as if the Jared inside him, who was Hephaistion twenty years ago, had kicked him in the ass and now rears behind him in all his muscular, sunburned glory—and he spits at him in righteous disgust: 'Did you really… you jerk? Shame on you!

God, Jared is shaking with tears. He's never one to cry, never, because it feels like dying when he has to; it only happens with Colin. He has to surrender; no mask works; this is raw.

And he must tell him that...