Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a rainy Tuesday night.

The neon sign of the diner along the highway glowed bright, its light blurring into the wet window glass. Even after midnight, the place stayed open a little longer. It wasn’t noisy like the cafés downtown; instead, it quietly held the breaths and fatigue of the people passing through.

At the far end of the counter was a seat backed by a wide column, hidden from the rest of the tables. That was where I always chose to sit. The spot for my car keys, my phone—those were always fixed on the right side. My coffee cup went on the left. Never by my dominant hand. Just an old habit I never broke.

Only from Monday to Thursday nights did I stop by here after work. Not because I was hungry. Not because I had anyone to meet. Just because, after climbing out of the driver’s seat, I needed a place to shake off the feeling that the engine’s vibration was still echoing inside my body.

A single cup of coffee didn’t give me the excuse to linger, and I had no intention of lingering anyway. Still, the young waitress with short black hair always noticed me, coming over with the pot the moment my cup ran dry. She did say her name was Jubilee.

“Logan, want a refill?”

“No, thanks.”

I left the tip and the price of the coffee on the counter and stood up. Knowing I drove a taxi, she called after me with a quiet.

“Good work out there.”

I was just reaching for the door when a young man walked in. His black leather jacket was wet with rain, a loud red shirt underneath, and khaki cargo pants. He noticed me and stepped aside just enough to let me pass first.

As we brushed by each other, I felt his eyes on me—blunt, unreserved. But I didn’t turn back.
The bell above the door rang out sharp, and the rain-washed air filled my chest.
It seemed the rain had just stopped. The smell of wet asphalt still hung heavy in the air.

---

Around the same time as last night.
I pulled into the diner’s lot like I always did, but just as I was about to head inside, the door opened and that same young man from yesterday stepped out. Up close, he looked late twenties, maybe just brushing thirty. The type whose smile comes before his greeting. He gave me a modest smile and spoke.

“Hey.”

Then he stepped aside to clear my path.
I said nothing, just gave a small nod and went in. The smell of coffee and fresh-baked pie drifted from the kitchen. I took my usual seat at the end of the counter and set down my car keys and phone together on the table.
Jubilee came over with a cup and a pot of coffee. By now she didn’t even wait for me to ask—once I walked in, she was already on her way.

“Rough night, Logan?”

“Thanks.”

As I watched her pour the cup full, I asked,

“That guy who just left... he come in often?”

“Maybe about three months now. He used to only show up on weekends.  Seeing him on a weekday, like yesterday and today, that’s pretty rare.”

“Yeah?”

She wiped the pot’s spout with a towel to catch the drip, grinning at me as she looked up.


“What?”
“Well, if you’re asking too, guess I’ll spill.”

“Spill what?”

“He asked me the same thing earlier. Wanted to know how long you’ve been coming here.”

“…Why?”

“Beats me. Next time, ask him yourself.”

She headed back toward the kitchen, pot in hand. I found myself picturing his face. I couldn’t recall ever seeing him before. Was he trying to dig something up?
As I lifted the cup to my lips, the phone I’d left face down on the counter buzzed. A ride request—sent to every driver nearby. I had half a mind to pick up a couple more fares tonight, but I let the phone sit where it was.

---

The next night.
The wind was strong. When I opened the diner’s door, the draft that rushed in made the bell ring louder than usual. My last fare tonight had been almost twenty miles out, so getting back here had been a bit of a haul. I was over an hour later than I usually stop by.

I stepped inside and exchanged a greeting with Jubilee, who was wiping down a table. Two seats away from my usual spot, I saw the same man sitting there ahead of me. When my eyes landed on him, he noticed and raised his hand in a casual hello.

“Evening.”

He had a way of greeting that struck the balance—neither too familiar, nor too distant. No reason to ignore it, so I gave a small nod in return and took my usual seat. He left the two seats between us empty, never crowding closer.
Jubilee set my usual coffee down in front of me. The man called to her with easy familiarity.

“Hey, Jubilee. How about a refill for me too?”

“How many cups are you planning to have?”

“Yours tastes too good to stop.”

I let a quiet snort slip, low enough not to be noticed. So that was it—he was here for Jubilee. Using me as a shared topic to get her attention. But she was still too young, whether a college kid or not. If I ever saw things between them cross a line—him pressing too hard—I’d have to step in.
From the corner of my eye I watched him drop a single packet of sugar into his cup, stir with a spoon. No racket, nothing to bother anyone.

On the TV above the counter, the weather forecast was playing. Rain for the weekend. A sigh escaped me and I tapped my nail against the counter without thinking. The sharp sound made him glance at my hand, but his gaze didn’t linger. His eyes drifted slow, steady, taking in the place like he was observing more than prying.

“Do you always sit there?”

He was the one to speak up.
I gave him a brief glance, then lowered my eyes to my coffee.

“Easiest seat to settle into. Least attention on you in the whole place.”

My fingertip rested against the counter as I said it.

“I see.”

He glanced between my back and the plaster column behind me, and smiled. I drank my coffee.
I didn’t ask if he came here often. Didn’t ask how long, or what his name was.
A young guy tossing smiles at the waitress wasn’t hard to watch, but I didn’t want to get involved.
Normally I kept my keys and phone together on the right side. Tonight I shifted them left, away from him. Couldn’t help myself—something in me didn’t want to set my things on the same side he sat.

“Taxi driver, huh?”

I’d been focused on where I’d put them, so his question caught me off guard. I turned without meaning to. He’d swiveled his tall stool, body angled toward me.

“…What makes you say that?”

“Someone dropping in here at this hour, looking like they’re fresh off work—usually it’s truckers or taxi drivers. But you don’t look like a trucker to me.”

His eyes flicked from my hand to the distance between it, the keys, and the phone. Then he leaned forward. Even so, there were still two stools between us.

“Am I right?”

“…You get a kick out of playing detective, Sherlock Holmes?”

I raised my cup as I said it. He caught the lack of reaction, and shrugged like he’d lost interest.

“Didn’t need to guess anyway…”

His eyes shifted toward the diner’s big window, out to the lot. I followed his line of sight.

“That taxi out there—it’s yours, isn’t it? Saw it parked in the same spot yesterday. And the day before.”

He smiled to himself like he found it funny, then straightened up a little.

“Guess I never introduced myself. Wade.”

He tossed it out like nothing.
For a second I almost gave mine in return, then thought better of it. But he nodded anyway, pointing at me.

“And you’re Logan, right?”

“…Where’d you hear that?”

“Jubilee called you that just now. ‘Rough night, Logan.’”

Behind the counter, Jubilee gave a sheepish grin as she polished the pot, then slid a laminated menu toward us.

“Since you two are finally introducing yourselves, how about ordering something as a keepsake?”

“No need. And I didn’t introduce myself—he did.”

I pushed the menu back toward her, but Wade cut in. Too much noise tonight. Give me a break.

“Blueberry pie then. Two slices. Warm them up?”

A bad feeling settled in my gut. Then he looked at me and winked.

“For you.”

I’d had enough.

“Don’t order for me. I don’t need it.”

“Sugar’s important, you know. Not a fan of sweets? You do drink your coffee black… Still, it’s better to eat something with it. You don’t look like you’re treating your stomach kindly.”

The man never stopped talking. I wanted to stitch his mouth shut.

“What the hell are you?”

“What do you think?”

Wade formed a circle with his fingers, peering through it at me. I glared back, and he smirked.
Then he slid into the empty seat beside me. Leaned right in, staring without a shred of hesitation. Too close. Way too close.

“Kid, move.”

“Thing is, I…”

He pressed the sole of his shoe against the tile, dragging it with a sharp squeak.

“I’m into guys like you—older men.”

“Wow,” Jubilee muttered, and vanished quick into the kitchen.

Somebody save me.

---

The ticking of the big clock on the diner wall sounded louder than usual.

All I knew about the man in front of me was the name Wade. Nothing about who he really was. Crude, intrusive. He cracked jokes and smiled, but his eyes never stopped quietly studying people. The way he looked at me made it feel like he was peering into my thoughts, and it set me on edge.

“…Save the lines for when you’re asleep, kid.”

“Not joking, though.”

I let out a sigh, ready to shoot back, when two plates of blueberry pie landed on the counter in front of us. “Amazing!” Wade exclaimed, while Jubilee refreshed the coffee.

“I said I’m good. I’ve got an early morning.”

“Then take it to go. Hey, Jubilee, can you box this up?”

At his word, Jubilee neatly packed the pies into paper boxes, slid them into a bag with the diner’s logo, and poured the fresh coffee into a to-go cup. She handed it all to Wade, who shoved it against my chest. The sweet smell of pie alone was enough to give me heartburn.

“Here you go, Mr. Taxi Daddy.”

“Drop that disgusting nickname.”

“Then can I just call you Logan?”

“…”

I was sure now. He was good at working his way in. With a friendly grin and practiced words, he had a knack for closing the distance. And right now, I could feel that knack aimed squarely at me.
Wade slipped a clip of bills from his back pocket and paid Jubilee for the pies before I could stop him.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I told you I didn’t want it.”

I tried to set the bag back on the counter, but both Wade and Jubilee followed the motion with their eyes so deliberately it would’ve been awkward to leave it behind. Tonight had been louder, more troublesome, more exhausting than any in recent memory.
I pulled my wallet from inside my jacket and handed Jubilee enough for my coffee and a tip. Then I grabbed my keys and phone, tucked the bag under my arm, and caught Wade smiling like it was the funniest thing in the world. If I were allowed, I’d have throttled him right there.

“Tomorrow’s Friday. You coming?”

“Maybe.”

“Logan only shows up Monday through Thursday,” Jubilee chimed in.

Wade nodded, “Got it,” like it meant something.

“So weekends are all about making money, no time for coffee. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“…”

In a short span, I’d learned Wade was an insufferable loudmouth—yet quick on the uptake.
He followed me to the entrance and held the door open. The bell rang sharp and dry. One step outside and the cold night air crawled up from the ground, carrying the scent of midnight.

“Good night, Logan.”

I turned. Wade lifted his hand in a small wave. Nothing flashy, just the tips of his fingers.　I gave no reply, heading for my car in the lot. Got in, started the engine. The lines in my brow looked deeper in the rearview mirror.

I pulled out of the lot and onto the highway. Turned on the heater against the chill, and the smell of the pie he’d forced on me rose with the warm air.
The cold autumn night stiffened my body, but as I replayed the diner in my mind, it felt like some of that tightness eased.

---

“A handyman, huh?”

Monday night.
I was sitting in my usual seat, drinking coffee, when Jubilee pulled a plain white card from the holder next to the old order spike that only had a single nail sticking up. She handed it to me.
On it were the name Wade Wilson, a phone number, and the words “Most things done.” For all the racket that man made, his business card was disarmingly simple.

“When he first came here, he left it. I just remembered.”

“And?”

“I think... you wanted to know more about him.”

“Me? Why?”

Jubilee put a hand on her hip and pulled a face. She was about to say something more when the bell over the door rang. From the quick rhythm of the footsteps, I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Wade.
He slid into a seat two stools away from me at the counter. Same spot as last Thursday.
I set the card face down on the counter and looked straight at him. He lit up like I’d just made his day, grinning and tossing out, “What’s up?”

“A handyman? You?”

“Yeah. She tell you? I’ll sit in on divorce talks, walk your dog, sew, cook, clean—I’m good at all of it. I do everything, so call me anytime.”

“Not interested.”

Whether he heard me or not, Wade launched into a stream of chatter about spending the weekend helping tend a church garden, or baking carrot cake with residents at a nursing home. From the sound of it, he wasn’t a handyman at all but a volunteer.

I drained the half-cup of coffee left in front of me, dropped payment and a tip to Jubilee, and picked up the car keys and phone I’d set on the left edge of the counter. As I stood, Wade got up too, laying down money of his own. Looked like he was leaving as well. I quickened my pace toward the exit, already dreading the thought of him asking for a ride. Just the sense of him hurrying after me gave me a headache like that damn pie had.

“Hey, Logan, when’s your next day off? If you’ve got time, maybe we could grab tea or take a walk—somewhere other than here.”

“I don’t take days off.”

“Liar.”

Before I could get any further, Wade’s fingertips brushed my forearm. My body jolted.

“Don’t touch me!”

The words came out sharp, my hand knocking his away on reflex. It was barely a flick of my fingers, but I could feel the air freeze. Jubilee, in the middle of clearing a table, stopped for a split second with a cup in her hand, then quietly resumed moving. Too late to smooth it over—Wade spoke first, voice small.

“...Sorry.”

Jubilee kept wiping down the counter, stealing glances at us.

“…Step outside.”

I went out first. The bell gave a small chime behind me. Just as the forecast said, it had been raining for days. Rainwater pooled on the asphalt, stretching the diner’s neon into a blurred reflection.

Wade came out after a moment. Both hands buried deep in his cargo pants pockets—his way of showing he wouldn’t touch me again. Like a toy switched from noisy and flashing to silent, he was strangely subdued. From a careful distance he muttered,

“Got carried away. Sorry.”

He paused, then added,

“Bet getting hit on by a guy feels gross.”

Yeah, with the way I’d reacted, it was no surprise he landed there. I looked up at the night sky. If I said no, if I told him it wasn’t like that, would he even believe me? I stroked the beard I’d let go untrimmed for too long and thought.
His gaze was fixed on my feet. When I called out, “Hey,” he looked up, just enough for our eyes to meet—then dropped his back down.
I let out a slow breath. It fogged white in the chill.

“I don’t like being touched. Doesn’t matter if it’s a woman or a man. Friend, family, anyone. I can’t stand situations where I don’t get to decide that distance.”

Wade said nothing. He seemed to be chewing over the words, trying to swallow them whole. Someone who could make friends with anyone probably couldn’t understand.

“You’re too damn good at closing the gap. But when someone does that to me out of nowhere…”

“It’s a shock, right. I’m sorry.”

“…Yeah. That’s all it is.”

I pressed the button on my car key. A couple spaces down, lights blinked twice. Mirrors unfolded with a hum. I walked over to the car and took the driver’s side handle.

“So quit messing with me for fun.”

“I’m not messing with you!”

I froze for a second. Wade was always loud, but he’d never shouted. He pulled his left hand from his pocket, raking his fingers back through the curls of his dark brown hair.

“I really want to get close to you.”

Without meaning to, I looked straight at him. His eyes met mine—no jokes, no escape route.
A long-haul truck roared past on the highway, lights carving across his cheek.

“I mean it.”

And he did. Wade’s eyes were dead serious.

---

Taxis suit me.
There’s a fixed distance between the driver’s seat and the passenger’s. I don’t sit facing anyone. I’m not side by side with anyone. No one touches. Eye contact happens only in the rearview, and only when needed. I ask the destination, start the meter, drive there. Small talk, if it happens, lasts a couple of exchanges at most.
Arrival, payment, receipt. Passenger out, door shuts—that’s the end of it.
Everything inside is bound by rules. Simple. Easy.

Office workers heading home, night-shift nurses, kids clutching guitar cases, parents with tear-stained toddlers, old folks carrying silence.
Each with their own destination, but in the taxi the roles are clear. The one who drives, the one who rides. The distance and the time—set from the start.
Rules bring order. And in that order, I find peace.
Drive to the destination. That’s it. That’s enough.

It’s not that I hate people. If I did, I couldn’t keep this job.
But relationships mean choices. Where to draw the line. Who to let in, who to shut out.

“Choice” is always trouble. Make one move and somebody’s glad, somebody else is hurt, somebody else goes under. Watching those reactions is the hard part. Too often my choices cut deep—and the backlash cuts me too. Call me an antisocial old man, and you’d be right. But I’m too old to force myself into a career or connections I don’t need.

I’ll live the way I can breathe easy.

---

I figured I’d made things awkward with Wade, but in the end we kept crossing paths at the diner Monday through Thursday like always.

Short greetings as if nothing had happened. A little small talk. We sat at the counter with two seats left empty between us. He joked around, but kept his distance. Sometimes the place got crowded and he would move closer, but he was careful not to brush my shoulder or leg. He started calling that distance his “rule” and made a point of observing it with some sense of decorum. I had expected him to be less well behaved, so it surprised me.

One Thursday night.
My hand was on my car door when a sharp scraping sound overlapped with a dull thud.
I turned toward the street. A crossover sat stopped in the right-hand lane, right blinker ticking in steady rhythm like it had been about to turn. A sedan had slammed into its rear, crushing it in deep.

“You alright!?”

Shouting, I ran over. The sedan’s driver was staggering out, a phone still lit on a call screen in his right hand. I got the picture.
I circled to the crossover’s driver’s seat. A woman was trying to get out, but the airbag had blown and the shock had left her rattled. I told her to unlock the door, and when she did I opened it from the outside. The dome light didn’t come on, so I lit the cabin with my phone. She was holding her belly. She was pregnant.

“Stay here.”

I heard Wade call my name behind me. I turned. He burst out of the diner, sprinting toward me. Jubilee was right on his heels, and even the manager, who usually hid in the back watching baseball on a portable TV, had followed.

The manager said he would call an ambulance and the police, so I asked Jubilee and Wade to stay with the woman and handed over my jacket.
The sedan driver had a cut on his forehead and was bleeding. He wandered, groaning, still clutching the phone.

“Hang up and sit down. She’s pregnant. Don’t scare her; it’s bad for her and the baby.”

All he could say was “I’m sorry” on repeat. The manager came and sat him on the curb, and I headed back to the crossover. Jubilee and Wade were crouched at the open door, talking to the woman. Wade noticed me and waved.

“She says she’s not hurt, Logan, and her belly feels okay for now. Should she get checked, right? She’s due around spring next year, was working just now, and edits a magazine Jubilee and I both know. That’s cool, right?”

Not the kind of talk you have at a crash site.

The woman had my jacket across her knees. She was clear-headed and, like Wade said, didn’t seem badly injured. Wade asked how you even edit a magazine and whether she had met any celebrities, and every answer drew a “That’s awesome” or “So cool” out of him. Annoying as it sounded, it seemed to steady her.
This block is quiet, just the diner and a motel down the way. No crowd to form. There was nothing to do but wait for the ambulance and police, watching Wade get carried away while I stood with Jubilee.

After a while, the ambulance and police cars rolled in, red and blue lights washing over the street.
The police took the basics from the driver and the pregnant woman, and the EMTs transported them. The manager, still talking to the officers, told us to head back first, so the three of us picked our way around the debris and returned to the diner.

“Good thing nothing caught fire. Are EVs less likely to burn in cases like this? Safer than gas cars? People say they’re eco, but it’s basically like hauling around a giant mobile battery, right? If it exploded out of nowhere, that thought freaks me out a little.”

Even now, he would not stop talking. I heard him, but didn’t answer.
Jubilee pushed the door open and went in first. I was about to follow when Wade’s hand settled lightly against my back. My feet stopped on their own. I had taken off my jacket, so the warmth of him came straight through the thin shirt. I let go of the knob and turned fully toward him. The door, left ajar, eased shut and the bell rang.

His hand slid from my back to my arm. He kept his head down as he spoke.

“When I heard the crash, I thought you got hit. I was scared.”

After a beat, he looked up, realized what he was doing, eyes going wide, and jumped back from me.

“I broke the rule!!!”

He sounded frantic enough to seem theatrical. I laughed before I could stop myself.
He panicked more, saying “I’m sorry” over and over. I shook my head and answered briefly.

“It’s an exception.”

---

Another night, the sky hung low and heavy.
I pulled into the diner’s lot and cut the engine when a strange hum rose up. Bad feeling. I hit the power button again. The gauges flickered once and died. I sagged back in the driver’s seat and sighed. I called the company, then called for a tow. They told me it would be three hours. I went inside. The sighs kept coming.

Wade was already there, showing something on his phone to Jubilee and laughing. We traded greetings and I took my usual seat. Jubilee brought a cup.

“My car’s dead. They said a tow will be here in three hours, but I doubt it will be on time. Mind if I use the lot till then?”

I called to the manager in the back, and his nodding head poked into view.

“But we close in just over an hour. How are you going to wait?”

Jubilee asked as she poured.

“In the car.”
“Does it even start? It’s cold tonight.”

The manager offered to keep the place open until the tow arrived, which was kind, but I declined. Then Wade spoke up with a “Hey.” As always, he sat two seats away, eyes still on his phone.

“Want to come over to wait?”

I saw Jubilee’s breath catch without a sound at the edge of my vision.

“Your place?”
“My place is two blocks from here. You can get back fast when the tow shows. Looks like it’s going to rain again anyway.”

For a moment, a refusal came first. I knew he meant well, but going to his place might open the door to misunderstandings. I got as far as that and felt ashamed. Too old to be second-guessing myself over a younger man like this.
Wade said nothing and just waited for my answer. I pushed the bad thoughts aside.

“Alright. I’ll take you up on it for a bit.”

His face lit up and he nodded again and again. It was embarrassing, as expected.

Jubilee did a tiny fist pump. For the first time, I shot her a look.

We stepped out into cold, damp air that clung to the skin. Rain did feel imminent.
I matched pace with Wade along the sidewalk.

“Just so we’re clear,”

he said first.

“There’s really no ulterior motive. I just wanted to help you. It’s cold, and that’s a long wait.”

I knew. It would only be for a while. When the call came, I would head back to the lot.
At the end of the first block, standing at the light side by side, he went on.

“I mean… I do like you, Logan. Does that count as ulterior motive? Anyway, I’m not going to touch you or hit on you. In dramas and movies, this is where two almost-lovers have sex, but no matter how much you like someone, that’s a little too out of control, right? Like, sure, they want a big dramatic moment, but still.”

It helped to let him do the talking. It sounded like over-explaining, but it smoothed out the mutual awkwardness.
A fine mist started to fall. My jacket grew damp and heavy. Wade kept his hands in his pockets and walked without slowing.

Two blocks on, the feel of the area changed. I drove through here often to pick up fares. Coming from the diner, the lamps stand closer together, brighter, the neighborhood more clearly residential.
Wade rounded a corner and stopped in front of a small apartment building. “Here,” he said, pushing through the common door and taking the stairs. The building felt lived in, every unit occupied, the stairwell filled with a comfortable domestic smell.
On the third floor, at the end of the hall, he undid two locks and opened the door.

“Shoes off.”

I glanced up and he smiled.

“Japanese style. It’s getting popular. Makes sense not to track in the outside. I wish it were standard.”

I followed his lead and took off my shoes. Soft carpet pressed through my socks. A dryer was going in the bathroom, warm air smelling of detergent rising from the floor.
He hung my wet jacket on a rack by the door, filled the electric kettle in the small kitchen behind the counter, and set it to boil.
He motioned to the sofa, and I sat on the end. I glanced around. Not bare, but sparsely furnished. Two cardboard boxes were stacked in a corner. Jubilee had said he only started coming to the diner a few months back, so he must have moved from somewhere and left them as they were. The top box was open, like he pulled things from it when needed. It was, in every way, a single man’s place.

“You already had coffee, so how about tea?”

He took a box of tea bags from a cupboard. I must have made a face, because he raised both hands.

“Obviously I didn’t spike anything.”
“I know.”

I took the big mug he brought over. Steam hit my cheek, and the stiffness behind my eyes began to ease.

“…Thanks.”

I finally said it. “You’re welcome,” he answered, and sat on the other end of the sofa. He started in on small things. Someone stole his umbrella from outside his door. The neighbor’s cat sometimes wandered onto his balcony and napped. That kind of talk. My eyelids grew heavy, and my grip loosened for a second. The mug tilted.

“You okay?”

He took it from my hands. I watched him set it gently on the coffee table, on top of a stack of comics.

“Sleep if you want. I’ll wake you when your phone rings.”

He laughed and said he would keep quiet too. There was no reason to fight it. I answered with a low sound and let myself sink back into the sofa. The day’s fatigue settled in at last. The dryer hummed.
In the quiet sounds and smells of a lived-in place, I let go.

When I woke, the lights were dimmed, but nothing else had changed.
I blinked, turned my head slowly. Wade was beside me like before, holding his phone sideways, a video running on mute.

His hand lay on the sofa near my side.
Without thinking, my fingers reached. I touched the back of his hand.

His body jolted. He looked at me, startled. I took his index finger lightly between mine. I did not lace our hands. I did not hold on. I did nothing more.

He returned the touch with the same gentleness, adding nothing to it.

Heat rose where our skin met, growing slowly stronger.
When it felt like that heat might choose a direction, I drew my hand back.
He did not chase it, did not say a word. He only looked at me. The silence thickened a shade, and the faintest awkwardness formed. Before I could find a way through it, my phone on the table buzzed. The tow driver. Ten minutes out.

I stood, put on my shoes by the door, and took my jacket, still not fully dry.

“I’ll go with you.”
“No need.”
“I’ll at least walk you downstairs.”

He stayed firm and offered me the smallest concession I could not turn down. Before I could argue, he was putting on his shoes too.

Outside the building, a misty rain was still falling.

“Hope the car gets fixed quick.”

Careful now, he said, and reached from behind me with an umbrella, smiling. I took it without a word.

“See you at the diner.”
“…Yeah.”

I opened his umbrella and started walking without looking back. The cold air cleared my head, and that felt good.
On the diner’s street, the tow truck’s lights were already coming toward me at a slow roll.

Chapter Text

The steering on the loaner that replaced my car under repair was light. It threw me at first, but I got used to it before the day was out. After getting through the weekend rush, I stopped by the diner after work at the start of the week. I went in carrying the umbrella I had borrowed from Wade to return it.

My usual seat was open. Wade hadn’t come yet. I sat in my spot and leaned the umbrella against the counter. Jubilee came up fast with a sly grin. She looked like she had been waiting for me to show up tonight. She greeted me and poured coffee into my cup, then asked me in a low voice.

“So, what was Wade’s place like?”
“Ask him yourself.”
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing.”

She didn’t like that answer and pushed out her lips.

“Then I’ll ask Wade.”

I brushed her off with a ‘do as you like, and just then the diner door opened and the bell rang. I thought it might be Wade, but it wasn’t. Two rough-looking men came in—one broad, the other thin. They looked around the room before sitting at a table. Jubilee went over to take their order the way she does for us, but they waved her off. “We’ll order after our friend gets here.”

Before long, Wade came in. He walked straight toward the counter, so I reached for the umbrella I’d propped up, but the men at the table raised a hand first.

“Hey, Wilson.”

The moment Wade recognized the men at the table, his face went stiff. He knew them.

“We need to talk.”

The men stood up from their seats. Wade looked at Jubilee and me, then turned back to them and said briefly,

“Let’s talk outside.”

The three of them went out together. I hesitated, unsure what to do. Jubilee kept an eye on the entrance, and as soon as they were out of sight, she hurried over to me.

“Hey, doesn’t that look bad?”
“Yeah.”
“‘Yeah’? That’s it? Those guys are definitely trouble. Should I call the cops? Hey, boss, what do we do?”
“Hold on.”

I stopped her from rushing and stood up.

“If Wade really has a connection to them, they’ll haul the whole bunch in.”
“But still—”
“I’ll go see what’s going on. Wait here.”

I followed after them a little late. The three were in the parking lot. The streetlight brought out the seams in the pavement. Wade stood keeping his distance from the men. The tall one spoke first.

“It’s the case with the single-mother debtor. You were hired for collection. You let her go, didn’t you.”

Wade stayed silent. So this was one of his odd jobs. I had thought he only did volunteer work, but it looked like he crossed some risky bridges too.

“You either go collect, or you pay.”

The broad man folded his arms.

“That woman didn’t have any money. Collection was impossible.”
“Then you pay. You let her go on your own judgment. You can take responsibility, right.”

Wade kept quiet. The men went on talking.

“We’ll come back tomorrow. Decide what you’re going to do. If you’re paying, bring the money then.”
“…All right.”

That was it. The two men walked away, avoiding the light in front of the diner, and melted into the darkness of the street. The air they left behind turned cold. Wade noticed me watching from a distance and came over.

“Logan, sorry.”
“For what.”
“For making things tense in there.”
“Then apologize to the manager and Jubilee.”
“…Yeah.”

Wade went back into the diner once, said a few words of apology to the manager and to Jubilee, then left. I followed him out and called to him as he was about to turn the corner past the diner.

“What are you going to do. Do you have the money.”
“No, but I’ll figure something out. I won’t cause trouble for the shop or for you.”

With that, he started walking without so much as a wave. When I came back into the diner, I remembered the umbrella I had left standing by the counter. I’d come tonight to return it and thank him, and ended up forgetting.

Jubilee came over and asked quietly,

“Did it look bad?”

I took a sip of the coffee that had cooled a little.

“Yeah. But he’ll manage somehow.”

---

The next night.

I saw Wade walk into the diner and was about to call out to him, but the same two men from yesterday appeared right behind him. With a single glance between them, the three of them headed outside without a word. I told Jubilee, who looked uneasy, that I’d be right back, and went out into the parking lot.

“So, have you decided what you’re going to do?”

The thin man, lit red by the neon, said that. Wade started to say something in reply, but I stepped between them and held out an envelope in front of the men before he could speak.

“Will this be enough.”

Wade cut in quickly.

“Logan, don’t. This is my problem.”

He grabbed my shoulder, but I didn’t move, and I didn’t back down. The bigger man took the envelope from my hand, pulled out about half of the bills, and flicked them with his fingers. His counting was quick but not careless. He took what he needed and pushed the rest back to me.

“Yeah, that’s enough. We don’t need the rest.”
“So that’s the end of it.”
“Money’s back. That’s all we wanted. It’s done.”

The two of them turned on their heels and disappeared down the street. I slipped the returned envelope back into my jacket pocket and let out a breath. Wade came closer.

“Why would you do that. They just walked off with your money!”
“It’s fine. I’m not at an age where I need to hoard it. I’m at the age where I ought to think about how to use it.”
“…All the more reason not to use it on something like this!!”
“Then tell me this.”

I looked him straight in the eye.

“You had no money. How were you planning to take responsibility. You were lucky they were the kind of men who’d end it with repayment. The day will come when it won’t end that way.”

Wade opened his mouth, then closed it. No answer.

“Take care of yourself. Quit this kind of work.”

Wade lowered his gaze to my feet—the same way he had when I yelled at him before. He stayed quiet for a while. After taking his time, he finally spoke.

“…I’ve lived a pretty worthless, careless life until now. When I came to this city, I thought I’d finally try to do things right. I wanted to be useful to people, so I started working as a handyman. And… well… I’ve ended up causing a lot of trouble.”

He looked smaller when he said it. Maybe he didn’t know what to do with his hands, because he shoved them into his pockets, then pulled them out again, his fingers tracing the seam of his pants. No jokes. None of that usual bluster left in him.

“Go home and get some rest.”

Wade seemed to think for a moment, then turned toward the direction of his apartment and started walking without a word.

I decided to head home too. I stopped by the diner again to pick up the umbrella I’d meant to return to him, left payment and a tip for Jubilee, and got into my car. In the mirror, I looked toward the direction Wade had gone, but he was already gone.

Don’t get involved with people.
Don’t step in too far.

I knew that was the easiest way to live.
Get involved, and things get heavy. Complicated. When you reach out to someone too easily, it rarely ends well.

There were plenty of reasons to leave him be, but none of them meant anything.

"Wasn’t the plan."

The words slipped out of my mouth and bounced faintly around the small space inside the car.

When I started the engine, the diner’s light reflected on the windshield and wavered.
I shifted into gear. The white lines of the parking lot slid backward behind me.

---

The week turned, and Wade still didn’t show his face at the diner. Behind the counter, Jubilee said “I wonder why,” while polishing the pot.

I had a good idea why.

Jubilee fidgeted in front of me like she wanted me, the one who knew where Wade lived, to go check on him. Even after I finished my coffee, she didn’t bring the pot like she always did.

I left the shop, went to the car to get the umbrella I still had on loan from Wade, and headed two blocks over to his apartment. I went up to the third floor and knocked on his door. After a pause I heard the lock slide, and the door opened from inside.

“…Logan.”

Wade showed his face. Looking past his shoulder into the room, I saw a cardboard box set out in the center of the living room beyond the short hall. Folded clothes and crumpled newspaper were scattered on the floor.

“…Planning to move.”

When I asked, he lifted a shoulder.

“Maybe.”
“Reset again and start over.”
“…Maybe.”

I tightened my grip on the umbrella handle.

“So all that about being serious about me, guess that was a lie after all.”
“It’s not. It’s not, but…”

His mouth, searching for an excuse, stopped there. Before he could find the words, I had already made up my mind.

I took a step in. He tried to step back in surprise, but I held his shoulder and didn’t let him. I pressed my lips to his, short and without a sound.

When I pulled away, he stayed frozen, eyes wide. He still didn’t have any words. Given how I’m always getting dragged along at his pace, it felt good in my chest even in a situation like this. I lifted the umbrella and said,

“I only came to return this, but forget it.Not tonight.”
“…Huh?”
“Come to the diner next week. Just one day is fine. I’ll wait, even if it’s late, and I’ll return it there. Jubilee misses you not coming in.”

I gave him a few reasons he could grab onto. He finally blinked and said, “If I’m not too busy.”

I nodded at that. I stepped back from the door and headed for the stairs. I didn’t hear his door close, but I didn’t look back. I went down. The landing light softly picked out the edges of the steps. I slid my palm along the handrail to the first floor. I pushed through the common door and felt the outside air. After one breath, I started walking.

When I reached the diner’s parking lot, I fished the car key out of my pants pocket and pressed it. Far off, the loaner answered with a small unlock sound, and its blinkers flashed like it was telling me where it was.

---

Not long after the week began, Wade came back to the diner.

Standing in the doorway, he looked awkward, glancing between Jubilee and me.
“It’s cold, close the door and come sit down,” she urged, pointing at his usual seat.
When Wade sat, I slid his umbrella—still hooked on the counter—toward him.

“Finally giving this back. About time.”
“…Thanks.”
“You’re weird. I’m the one who should say thanks.”

Wade gave me a quick glance, then looked away and nodded slightly.
I knew it was mean, but I asked anyway, deliberately, in front of Jubilee.

“How’s the move going.”
“You’re moving? Where to? Another city?”

Leaning over the counter, Jubilee prepared his cup.

“No, I was just thinking about it. Still not sure.”
“Oh yeah? What, your place too small or something?”
“Exactly. I’m a geek, so I want to get a big shelf for my comics. I’ve been looking for somewhere bigger, but it’s tough.”

Jubilee poured coffee into his cup and walked off. As soon as she did, Wade turned to me.

“…You’ve got such a mean streak, you know that?”

He said it under his breath. I ignored him and sipped my coffee with a faint snort.

Not just that night—Wade kept showing up at the diner after that.

The two-seat gap between us became one.
And before I realized it, after he started coming again, I had moved my phone and keys—once set on the left—to their usual place on my right.

One night, we were laughing over a weather forecast gone wrong when one of those debt collectors stumbled in.
Even from across the diner I could smell the alcohol on him.
He spotted us at the end of the counter and raised his voice.

“Well, if it ain’t the fairy couple.”

I thought it was better to let him talk. But he came closer, smirking, and jabbed Wade’s back twice with a finger.
He kicked the leg of Wade’s chair with the tip of his shoe, making it wobble on purpose.

“Been a while, princess. Still can’t do anything without your old man around?”

Wade didn’t react. Tried to endure it.
That must’ve irritated the man, because his hand reached for Wade’s collar, grabbing and yanking him forward.
I couldn’t take it anymore—I stepped between them.

“Hey. Don’t insult my friend.”
“Shut up!”

His fist hit me in the side of the head.
The world went white, and I went down. My glasses slid across the floor.
I heard Jubilee scream.
At the same time, Wade lunged at the man, driving his knee up into his groin.
The man howled and staggered back, and Wade drove him toward the door, grabbing a receipt spike from beside the register—rusted and sharp—and pointed it at him.

“I’ll make sure you never jerk off again!”

His shout echoed through the diner.
The man was crouched, groaning and clutching his crotch.
I forced myself up, still dizzy, and grabbed Wade’s arm before he could strike.
Blood dotted the white tile floor. Only then did I realize my forehead was cut.
When Wade saw my face, the color drained from his.

“Logan, you’re bleeding... your head...”
“It’s fine. I’m all right. Just stop already.”
“But Logan, he hit you!”

“Hey! One more move and I’m calling the cops!”

The manager’s voice rang out.
The man didn’t even bother to curse. He shoved the door open hard and went out.
Jubilee rushed over and sat me down, pressing a towel to the cut.

“What do we do, Logan… You need treatment.”
“It’s fine. The skin there is thin, so it bleeds a lot. It’ll stop soon.”

The manager tossed a wet towel from the kitchen to Jubilee; I caught it and took it myself.

“Wade, apologize to the manager and to Jubilee.”

Wade, dazed, came to himself. Moving sluggishly, he set the receipt spike back on the counter.

“…I’m really sorry. For causing all this.”

He crouched down and picked up the scattered receipts near the door.
The manager sighed, one hand on his hip.

“Well, fine. Guess they won’t be coming back here anymore.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, then returned with a plastic bag of ice and handed it over.
Jubilee pressed the ice against my forehead.

“Are you really okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry for the trouble, but let me leave my car here tonight. I’ll take a cab home. I’ll come get it in the morning.”

I stood up and looked toward Wade, who was lingering awkwardly by the door.

“Wade, you too. Go home.”

We stepped out into the night. The cool air brought some calm to the heat in my body.
Wade placed a hand on my back, peering at my face.

“Are you sure you don’t need a hospital? I’ll go with you.”
“I’m fine. It’s not that bad.”

I pulled out my phone to call a cab, opening the app.

“Come to my place.”

I looked up from the screen and met Wade’s uneasy eyes.

“I just don’t want you alone after that… You got hit in the head. Stay with me tonight.”

He wasn’t pushing.
After a moment, I nodded.

“Alright.”

I put the phone away.

---

Two blocks away, third floor.
By the time I got there, the bleeding from my forehead had almost stopped.
Just like the last time, he made me sit on the couch, then went to the bathroom and came back with a clean towel.

“This is the bedroom.”

He opened the door beside the living room. When he flicked on the light, it was warmer than the one in the living room—softer, quieter.

“Once you’re settled, use the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“You’re sleeping here too.”

Wade blinked a few times, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air where it had been holding the door.
He tried to laugh it off and failed, his movements stiff and unsure.

“You’re serious?”
“We’re just sleeping. Why are you getting nervous?”

Wade mumbled to himself, “Right… yeah, fair enough,” under his breath.
He went to the sofa, grabbed a cushion, placed it near the pillow, spread a blanket over the sheets, and smoothed out the edges.
He gestured toward the bed.

“Go on, get in.”

I walked in first, and he followed behind.

Two grown men sharing a semi-double bed wasn’t ideal.
Every small shift made the springs creak in ways I’d never heard before.
Once we finally found a position that worked, Wade rested his head on my chest.
Neither of us had showered. The smell of sweat and diner grease still clung to our clothes.

It had been a hell of a night.
But somehow, despite everything, it was a quiet one.
Through a slit in the roller curtain, I watched the night outside when Wade spoke.

“So the no-touching rule’s gone now, huh.”

There was no hint of smugness in his voice. He was just quietly making sure.

“You know, when you got mad for me earlier… I was happy about that.”
“And in the end, it just made things worse.”
“I don’t care. I was happy. That’s enough.”
“…Knowing you, you’ve probably had to deal with a lot of crap like that before.”

Wade shifted a little, still resting on my chest.

“I get that a lot ‘cause I’m hot, you know. People get jealous. So I never have trouble finding someone.”
“…If that’s the case,”

My voice sounded too loud in the quiet room.

“If that’s the case, then why me.”

The room went still again. I could hear my heartbeat, a little faster than usual, and hoped he couldn’t.

“…When we first met, honestly? I thought you were totally my type. I just wanted to hook up with you once... just once. Sorry, really.”

I didn’t respond. Wade took that as a sign to keep going.

“But it stopped being just that, pretty fast. You’re gruff with everyone—me, Jubilee—but you’re kind underneath. You like people, but you never step into the crowd yourself. You just watch from the edge. It’s… cute. Like a stray boss cat that won’t let anyone pet it.”
“…What?”

I looked down at him. He was looking back up at me—and smiling quietly.

“I figured I probably couldn’t get you to fall for me. But I couldn’t give up, either. I kept thinking—maybe I could at least start as a friend. Maybe someday you’d look at me the same way. I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Then he went on, after a short pause.

“When that car accident happened the other day, I freaked out. When I found out you were okay, I almost cried out of relief. That’s when I realized… I was already in too deep. Like, I was stupidly, hopelessly in love with you. And since then I’ve just been showing you the dumbest sides of me.”

When he finished, he exhaled deeply, trying to steady his breathing.

“…That’s all.”

I could hear him breathing close. I closed my eyes.
He shifted once; the bed springs groaned, then went quiet again.

---

I dreamed about the past.

About the man I used to live with.
He was the kind of person who noticed everything and gave easily.
He’d plan our weekends days in advance, enjoyed gifts and surprises, he preferred nonsexual physical affection, driven by love rather than desire, and never forgot the little courtesies.
It was a kind of tenderness that made me itch a little.
He expected the same from me, but I couldn’t give it back the way he wanted.

Eventually, he started living with someone else and moved out.

After that, I accepted that this was who I was.
Standing on the outside of people’s circles keeps you from hurting anyone—and keeps you from getting hurt.
So I chose to live at that distance.
That’s how I’ve been living ever since.

The sound of rain hitting the window woke me.

At some point it had started to rain.
The line between dream and waking was still blurred, but the unfamiliar bed and the warm weight on my chest reminded me of how tonight had gone.

Wade was asleep on top of me—close enough to touch if I reached out my hand.
I brushed my fingers through the damp curls of his hair once, then pulled back.
Even that was enough to make him stir.

“Did I wake you?”
“No. I wanted to wake up.”

I laughed. “What the hell does that mean.”
He reached up, touched my forehead with his finger, checking the swelling.

“Does it hurt?”

Wade peered at my face in that usual way of his. I sat up, rolled him onto the bed, and kissed him, just a light touch.

“…Why did you kiss me?”

His brown eyes wavered with confusion, but there was light and heat there, faint but clear.
I ran my thumb along the stubble on his cheek and kissed him again.

“Because I wanted to.”

As if my words were the signal, Wade jerked his head up from below and kissed me, hard enough for our teeth to clash. He followed it right away with a soft lick, as if to make up for it.
Then, in the same motion, he rolled us over. He straddled my hips and bent down for another kiss, tracing his fingers along the thin skin of my neck and ears before undoing the buttons of my shirt.

By the time he finished unbuttoning my shirt, he finally let me breathe again. The kiss alone felt so good it almost made me lose myself. But when his palm came to rest on my bare chest, the heat of it brought me back to myself.

His thumb brushed over my nipple, and I flinched. I wasn’t used to being touched there, and I almost curled up without meaning to. Wade rubbed my arm to calm me down.
Then his tongue traced slowly over my nipple, and I jerked up in surprise.

“Hey—”
“You don’t like that?”

He pulled back, searching my face. I didn’t know how to answer. I wasn’t sure what I liked. I know I can be stubborn. Letting Wade take the lead like this was about as much of a compromise as I could manage. I just never thought he’d treat me the way he would a woman.

“Maybe not,”

I said.

“Just not used to it.”

After a brief silence, Wade looked serious.

“Then, if you let me, I’d like to keep touching you little by little.”

“Little by little,” huh. So he was already thinking about next time.
He kissed me again, gentle this time, as if to soothe me. I kissed him back with the same warmth, giving it everything I could. When I finally slipped my fingers to his waistband, he whispered between our kisses.

“You’re undressing me?”

He prompted me, and I went along with it without protest. I undid the button of his pants and drew down the zipper. I hesitated, but then slipped my hand under the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down. His penis sprang free with heat and weight, snapping out and bumping against the area just below his navel with a ridiculous sound. I couldn’t help staring at it, and Wade looked embarrassed.

“Because you’re good at kissing.”
“…That so.”

I gave a short reply. I was just as embarrassed as he was.
Wade went on to undo my belt with one hand, then pulled my pants and underwear down to my knees. When I lifted my hips to make it easier for him, he pressed a happy kiss to my cheek. Everything about it tickled in a way I couldn’t shake.
His hand, which had been tracing over my stomach, drifted lower—slowly, deliberately—until it reached my lower belly, full of intent.

“Can I touch here?”

I nodded, and he reached out, his hand finding my penis without any force. He held it gently, tracing its shape with slow, steady movements, back and forth a few times. My breathing deepened on its own.
His touch was unbelievably gentle. He lifted it from the base, feeling its weight in his hand before letting it fall again. The patience of it made me ache. I found myself pressing into his hand, needing more, and Wade brought himself closer, lining up his penis and wrapping both together in his grip. He moved, shallow at first, then deeper, changing the rhythm each time.

It felt good. Really good.
I knew he was drawing it out, but there was no irritation in it. His touch was too careful, too warm, for that. My hips started moving on their own, following the motion of his hand. I felt ridiculous, but more than that, I didn’t want him to stop.

Wade slid his free hand around and grabbed my ass, firm and sure.

“…Can I touch you somewhere else?”

I nodded, and he gathered the precum between us with his fingers, then smoothed it lower, over my anus. Thinking about what might come next made my body tense. He seemed to sense it and set his forehead against mine.
He eased his finger in, just a little.
He drew back shallowly, then went a little further. He never rushed. His patience got to me first.
Between breaths I asked for a kiss, and he answered right away. Each time our mouths met and parted, I could feel myself unclench.
While he opened me inside, he slipped a hand between the pillow and the back of my neck. The heat of his palm felt good, and I let out a breath.

“Okay?”

I nodded again. Wade leaned over and pulled a box of condoms from the low drawer on the shelf beside the bed.

“You come prepared.”
“You never know. And here we are.”

I opened the packet and slipped the condom out, pinched the tip to squeeze out the air, and placed it on his tip. I rolled it down with my fingertips to cover him. While I was putting the condom on him, Wade made a couple of odd noises, somewhere between a gasp and a yelp.

“That surprised me. For a second I almost came just from that.”

Before he settled his weight over me, he slid a cushion under my hips and said it with a grin. I couldn’t help laughing, and he looked relieved. I hadn’t really done anything for him yet, so at the very least I wanted him to know I wasn’t just letting myself get carried into this.

He guided my legs apart and moved between them.
He pressed his tip against the place he’d already prepared and slowly pushed in. My breath hitched and I exhaled hard.

“I’ll go slow,” he said.

Beads of sweat fell from him onto my chest.
He really meant it. Every movement was deliberate and cautious, checking on me with each shift.
His warmth spread through me from the inside out until sweat broke across my skin.

“Does it hurt?”

I shook my head.
There wasn’t any roughness in him, none of that show of dominance.
While he moved, he never stopped touching me—my neck, my arm—never stopped kissing me.
That stubborn gentleness of his made my chest tighten.

“Wade.”
He looked down at me, eyes wet and searching.

“Move how you want.”
“But—”
“It’s fine.”

I reached up, caught his jaw, and gave it a small shake.
He seemed to think it over for a second, then gave a short nod.
He slid a hand beneath the inside of my knee, lifted it higher, and pressed in deeper.

There was no reason left to stop, or to pull away.

I felt the deep of my belly ripple with his movement.
Contours of a feeling I had not known in a long time began to come back into focus.
Chasing it, I wanted to be joined deeper, deeper than where Wade was moving.
It wasn’t just inside my body. It was a place without a name.

Tears came, quiet enough to surprise even me.
Wade noticed at once and looked startled, but he did not stop and he did not hurry.
He brought a hand to my cheek and wiped the tears with his thumb.

He held me close, still joined.
The space between our chests closed until I could feel his warmth with my whole body.
The warmth of him made my chest tighten, and a short sob escaped before I could stop it.

I put my arms around his back and held him as tightly as I could.
I could not understand how he kept reading what I feared and what I wanted and kept giving it to me.

Before long, his rhythm grew shorter and shallower, his body trembling as he let out a low sound and finished deep inside.

After a moment he lifted his chest from mine and steadied his breathing.
He wrapped his hand around my penis and guided me with a pace that never pushed too far. He moved in and out slowly, shallowly, and my vision blurred.

Under Wade's hand I came.
My semen spattered onto my chest and I was ashamed of myself for it, at my age.

Wade slipped his penis out of me with care.
He took off the condom and tossed it in the trash, then wiped me down with the edge of the sheet.
He drew the sheet around me and pulled me close, asking if it hurt anywhere, asking if I disliked any part of it.
There was no way I could, not after being treated so gently.

I fought the awkwardness and the urge to pull away, but he did not let go and covered my face with kisses.

“Hey, let’s take a shower.”
“Yeah. You go first.”
“I meant together!!”

He yanked me up by the arm before I could protest, and when I stepped off the bed, he steadied me from behind. Even when I told him it wasn’t necessary, Wade didn’t let go.

In the bathroom, he still wanted to stay close, touches that weren’t about sex anymore, just presence. When he handed me a towel and I started drying my hair, a dull ache throbbed on my forehead. I’d forgotten about the injury. One look in the mirror showed the bruise, dark and clear.
From behind my reflection, Wade said, “Guess having sex wasn’t the smartest move tonight.”
Now he says it.

He left the bathroom and came back with a T-shirt and sweatpants for me. Once I put them on, the dry fabric against my skin made my body start to settle.
When I lay down on the freshly changed sheets, exhaustion hit all at once, heavy enough that I couldn’t imagine getting up again. Wade came to lie beside me, shoulder pressed lightly to mine. His warmth made the drowsiness flood in fast.

“Next time,” he said,

“you’ll have to tell me how you like it.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together.”

Was he really younger than me? I couldn’t even muster the strength to answer.
Right before my eyes closed, I caught a glimpse through the gap in the blinds—
the sky turning pale.

The city about to wake.

---

I slept at Wade’s place until well past noon.
Called in late to take the day off, ate the frozen meal Wade had cooked, then spent the rest of the afternoon in bed with him.
We barely talked, but he stayed close the whole time.

That night, we went to the diner together.
We owed an apology for the trouble we’d caused, and I wanted to show Jubilee and the others that we were fine.
As soon as we walked in, Jubilee looked between the two of us but didn’t ask anything.
She just served the coffee, same as always.

---

Wade’s still doing his handyman work—mostly favors that barely pay, but lately he’s been making flyers and shop cards for the diner too.
And me—I still stop by after work, Monday through Thursday, same as ever. Wade too.
But when we sit at the counter now, there’s no empty seat between us anymore.

---

“Hey, Jubilee,”

Wade said, holding his cup.

“I’m moving.”
“So you are,”she said. “Where to?”

Wade tilted his thumb toward me. Jubilee’s eyes widened, then she smiled and clapped her hands before I could stop her.
“Don’t do that,” I said.

“Oh, so you’re not leaving town. That’s a relief. You’ll still come here like always, right?”

Wade nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

Yeah. Like always.
Monday through Thursday, late at night, here.
Same as before.

The distance between us has changed. That’s all.

Chapter Text

I’ve never said this out loud before, so it’s kinda embarrassing, but
I have a boyfriend.

Yeah, this is gonna be one big brag fest. You can listen or not, but I’m telling you anyway.

He’s this really handsome older guy, more than twenty years older than me. A taxi driver.
We met by chance at the entrance of a diner.

He wears reading glasses, a slightly worn black suit, tie loosened at the collar. Not sloppy, just tired.
His hair’s got a good bit of gray in it, but he stands straight, long legs, and even though he barely shows any skin, you can tell he’s built.
The moment I saw him from behind, I thought, oh no, I’m done for. I actually sighed while staring at his ass.

I usually don’t stick to one person. Gender or age doesn’t really matter to me. But him, he was different.
Completely my type. I mean it. Totally.
Because come on, have you ever seen a taxi driver that hot? (Turns out, yes. Yes I did!)

At first I hung around the diner just hoping for a one-night thing, maybe just once, you know?
I started talking to him, watching him. But then I realized something.
It wasn’t just the looks, or the voice, or the quiet, rugged vibe. It was more than that.

When I was chatting with Jubilee, I caught him watching us from the end of the counter through those glasses of his.
His eyes looked gentle but kind of lonely.
And right then I thought, I can’t leave this guy alone. I wanna protect him. He’s like this big, solitary tomcat.

So I made a move and got clawed for it.

Yeah, I jumped the gun. Thought maybe he wasn’t into men after all.
Guess my "gaydar" isn’t as sharp as I thought.
(Still, I was pretty sure he was gay.)
(And yep, turns out I was right.)
Wanna know what he said? “Anyone would be startled if someone touched them out of nowhere.”
Oh really? Is that so?
Sure, being rejected stung, but it also kind of turned me on.

Because again, he’s insanely hot, right? I figured he was the type to fool around too.
But no, he’s got this unexpectedly earnest side.
He’s been through things. He doesn’t like to talk about it, and I don’t pry.
So I decided to take it slow. Start as friends.
Yeah, laugh if you want. I was serious.
We talked at the diner while he finished his coffee, no touching, just talking. Jubilee rolled her eyes but cheered me on anyway.

I keep saying “he,” huh? His name’s Logan. Even his name sounds strong and old-fashioned.
I kept showing up at the diner, talking to him a little more each time.
At first, just small talk about the weather, random stuff. But the air between us felt nice. Really nice. No lie.

Then one day, he left the diner early. Right after that, I heard this huge crash outside.
I ran out, terrified something had happened to him.
It was a car accident.
Long story short, Logan was fine. By the time we got out there, he was already helping people, not a single scratch on him.
I almost cried from relief.
One of the people involved was pregnant, and he noticed right away, told Jubilee and me to handle the other driver while he calmed her down.
He’s kind. The kind of man who pretends not to care but helps people without hesitation. Like a hero.
That was it for me. Watching his face under the flashing ambulance lights, I knew I’d fallen hard.

After that, things happened, messy stuff, awkward stuff, but in the end Logan opened up to me. Heart and body.
Happy ending.
Now here I am, sitting in the passenger seat of his cab.
He left work a little early today, picked me up at the diner, we had coffee, and now we’re heading to his place.
I’m staying over tonight.

He looks so damn good driving. Long lashes, sharp nose.
Every time we kiss, I have to hunt for his mouth because his beard covers half his face.
If he shaved, he’d look even hotter... but I love the beard.
Still, if people saw how good looking he really is, I’d have competition.
But then again, I kinda wanna brag. My boyfriend’s that hot.

We pull up to his place.
While we’re talking about maybe ordering takeout instead of cooking, he gets out first.
I follow.
Just as the porch light flicks on, a voice calls out from behind.

“Evening, Mr. Howlett.”

A well dressed older man. Probably a neighbor.
I’ve been here a few times, but it’s the first time I’ve run into anyone.
He’s got his jacket over his arm, looks like he just got off work.
Logan gives him a simple “Hi.”

Then the guy’s eyes shift to me.
I’m about to introduce myself when Logan says,

“This is my nephew.”

Oh, there it is.

Not “my boyfriend,” not even “my friend.” “My nephew.”
I get it. With our age gap, we kinda look like that.
But Logan can be so damn conservative sometimes. Even in bed.
I mean, the guy literally jumped when I just flicked his nipple with my tongue.
Anyway, I smiled politely and said, “Nice to meet you,” in my best well-behaved-nephew voice.
The man nodded, satisfied, said good evening, and walked away.
Logan unlocked the door, went in first, and I followed, closing it behind me.

He doesn’t smoke, so the house never smells bad.
The wooden floor he had replaced recently still smells fresh. It’s calming.
I take a deep breath and sigh.

“So… nephew, huh?”

It slipped out before I could stop myself.
Logan glanced at me, looking a bit guilty, then turned away again, taking off his jacket.
That broad back of his makes me mad sometimes.
But even that simple motion, taking off his jacket, looks sexy.
No, no, focus, Wade.

I let out another sigh and drop onto the couch.
Feels like I’m the Logan tonight, sighing all the time.

“Jubilee and the others know about us. Why couldn’t you tell that guy?”

He loosens his tie, answers slowly.
“Different generation. People my age still have… issues.”

Generation, huh.
So is he planning to hide us forever?

Forever.
That word stuck.
Because me, I’m serious-serious.
The whole in-sickness-and-in-health, till-death-do-us-part kind of serious.
But maybe he’s not.
We’ve been together since that night, without ever talking about what we are.
Wait... does Logan even think we’re dating? We’re… lovers, right?

I look down, quiet, lost in thought.
He comes closer, sits beside me, leans in.

“You mad at me?”

I can’t say I’m not. But mostly I’m thinking too much.
He touches my shoulder, kisses me.
And dammit, I love those gentle, apologetic kisses of his.
Still, not the time, Wade.

“That’s not a great way to fix things,”

I say, a little sharp.
He looks hurt... sooooo cute.
Another kiss.
And just like that, everything I wanted to say disappears.
I take off his glasses, kiss him deeper.

As we kept fooling around, Logan’s hand slid up to my waist and slipped under my pants. His fingers traced along the line between my underwear and skin, moving slowly. When he finally touched my dick directly, I was already halfway there just from kissing. He tightened his grip, and it felt so good I couldn’t help but react. Then he unbuttoned my pants, pulled down the zipper, and tugged my underwear low enough to free it, already hard. He took it into his mouth without hesitation.

Logan does this for me whenever he’s the one who made things tense between us.
Normally, if I ask for it, he acts a little put out. His mouth is warm and slick. He takes me deep in one go, which honestly surprises me, and I end up wondering who taught him that… whether he used to do this for everyone… and I get jealous of the men in his past. But it feels really good.

Still, thinking of it as some kind of penalty or punishment isn’t healthy, and I don’t like that. I want to ease him away from that bit by bit. Which is why, yes, for better or worse, for life, I have to stay with Logan.

Still, Logan’s “apology blowjob” (worst name ever, sorry) is impossible to resist.
Normally, if I ask for it, he looks a little annoyed. His mouth is warm and slick, and sometimes he takes me in so quickly it catches me off guard. I end up wondering who taught him that and whether he used to do it for everyone, and I get jealous of the men from his past. But it feels amazing.
Even so, treating it like a penalty or a punishment is not healthy, and it is not good for us. I want to soften that idea in him little by little. So yes, in sickness and in health, for life, I have to stay with Logan.

I could not resist teasing him a little. I pushed my dick a little deeper down his throat (I apologize!), slid my hand behind his head and urged him to take me farther than I should (never doing that again!). Before I knew it, I finished inside his mouth. I never make him do that and I do not usually do it either, so I was not myself. I’m not blaming Logan. It was on me, a mix of dark feelings and frustration tonight. I snapped out of it. panicked, and pulled my dick away, and he coughed. I am really sorry!!

I did not just think it. I apologized properly, wiped his beard clean where there was a mess, and kissed him. I sometimes see people say they could never kiss someone after blowjob on them, but isn’t that a bit cold? I have no problem with an indirect kiss with my dick. I lean in and make it a deep one.

While kissing Logan, who was still a little out of breath, I tugged his shirt free from his pants and slipped my hand underneath.
He works out and goes running before his shifts, says sitting all day makes him stiff, so his stomach’s nice and tight.
I traced the ridges with my fingers, then cupped his chest from underneath, feeling the solid weight of it. After a few squeezes, I let my fingers comb gently through the thick hair on his chest.
Then I circled around his nipple, barely touching it with my nails, and he let out this warm, breathy sound, saying my name, urging me to go faster.
I thought about teasing him—yeah, just a little—but I’d already been mean tonight, so I decided to behave.

When I pinched him lightly, his nipples hardened right away, slightly larger ones that stand up so easily it’s almost cute.
“Feels good?” I asked, and instead of answering, he pulled me into his arms.
I leaned down and sucked hard, loud enough to make a sound, and Logan arched his back, breath catching in a small moan.

Took him a while to get into nipple stuff. I’m stupidly proud of that.
But the ones who couldn’t see the potential in this body, what were they even looking at? Are they blind?
I am never letting him go. Logan, my Logan.
Maybe I really am a little sick in the head tonight.

We take turns using the shower. I’ve tried asking to join him a few times, but he always turns me down right away, so I stopped asking.
He probably doesn’t want me to see him getting ready.
I, on the other hand, would totally love to help, but since it’s even more delicate than the whole nipple thing, I try not to push it anymore.

I shower first, then lounge around on his bed, scrolling through my phone.
Logan comes walking in, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
I drop my phone, sit up at the edge of the bed, and open my arms for him, and he fits right in.
I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer, pressing a kiss to his bare stomach.
He smells like his body soap, clean, warm, comforting.

Then he pushes me gently back onto the bed and climbs on top of me. The double bed makes it ridiculously comfortable.
Honestly, it’s way better than at my place, more space to try things, to play around.

Looking up at him from below, his body is the very definition of full and solid.
Maybe it’s just how he’s built, but even his slightly uneven abs, those asymmetrical lines, look sexy to me.

When I reach for the towel at his waist, his hand stops mine.
He leans down and kisses me instead, and somewhere in between, he takes the towel off himself.
Too bad, I wanted to do that!

He once told me he doesn’t like being looked at too closely, but I still don’t get why.
Is it embarrassment? What’s there to be embarrassed about?
He’s got a body a hundred times better than any guy his age.

But I don’t want to do anything he’d dislike, so I just reach over and dim the light by the bed, letting the room go soft and dark.

I grabbed Logan’s ass with both hands and kneaded it. When I slid one finger inside, it was already slick with lotion. He always gets himself ready like this, until everything’s soft and warm, and it honestly makes me emotional every time.

While touching him with one hand, I pushed my underwear down to my knees, then kicked it off. Logan had his eyes closed, focusing completely on the way my finger moved in and out shallowly.

I slowly pulled my finger out and rubbed my dick against him instead. Logan opened his eyes and gave me that look—the kind that says hurry up. Those eyes, yeah, that’s the switch flipped! Then he took it from my hand, pressed it against himself, and lowered his hips, letting himself sink down slowly.
When I said, “Hey, that's dick theft!” Logan actually let out a small laugh.

Once he had taken all of my dick down to the base, he let out a long breath. The heat inside him was tight, moving around me, and it felt incredible.

We stayed like that for a while, lost in it, until he started moving, angling his body so that every shift hit just right. His dick brushed against my stomach with each movement, tapping lightly.
I used to think I was confident about mine, but Logan’s is… well, way bigger. When I see it hard like that while When I see him rock-hard while I’m blowjob on him, it honestly freaks me out a little. But seeing him feel good like this without even using it is unbelievably cute.

I wanted to move too, so I asked in a needy voice, and he nodded once. Staying connected, I held his waist and pulled him up as I sat, then flipped us over. I lifted his hips so his knees pressed to his chest and started moving deep, and Logan let out a low groan. His stomach tightened and trembled.
I don’t think he’s ever come just from being taken before, but he’s got potential, like with his nipples.

While watching the sweat run down his flushed neck and chest, that thought crossed my mind, and my eyes landed on his nipples. I pinched both of them hard and tugged, and he let out a sound higher than I’d ever heard from him before.
Wow!???!??
That squeeze nearly made me come right there. We both shuddered, curling in on ourselves.

“I’m sorry!!”

Logan covered his chest with those big arms and glared at me.
Oh no! We just got to the point where he lets me touch there, and now we’re back to square one!

I apologized over and over, saying I was sorry for surprising him and that I wouldn’t touch his chest again tonight.
When his arms finally relaxed, I stroked them gently and guided them around my back.
But still, you know… finding out there’s even more to him gets my heart going.

I’ll save that thought for later and focus on making Logan happy for now.
I pressed our bodies togethe. (Logan seems to like that. I do too!)
As I kissed him and ran my hands along the back of his neck and behind his ear, I felt his body start to loosen up again.
I asked quietly if I could move, and when he gave me the go-ahead, I started thrusting with the pace and strength I liked.

Guess that earlier tease pushed him over the edge, ’cause Logan came first, jerking himself off. That doesn’t happen often. But he clenched around me so tight it drove me crazy, and I pulled my dick out and came on his stomach.

Logan’s lower body, slick with both of us, was ridiculously sexy.
He was breathing hard, eyes closed, lost in the afterglow.
When I asked, “Did it feel good?” he gave a small nod and hummed, “Mm.”

The same man who once kept his guard up around me now lets me into his home, lets me touch him, and touches me back with so much care. He accepts me.

God, I love him.
I don’t want to let go.
I hope—just maybe—he feels the same.

“What am I to you, Logan?”

The words just slipped out, so sudden it surprised even me.
My head was fuzzy after coming twice, and my mouth had no brakes left.
I wanted to ask something like that in a way more romantic setting. Damn it.

Logan didn’t look up. He stayed quiet, breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling beneath all that soft hair.
The silence scared me, so I tried to laugh it off, make a joke, but my brain short-circuited and nothing came out.
He still didn’t say anything.
Great. I probably made things awkward again. God, I’m such an idiot.

“…The truth is,”

He said finally, voice low.
He sat up, pulling the sheets over his lap to cover the mess there, kind of absentmindedly.

“I was planning to talk about that over dinner tonight.”

………Wait, what?
Was this something serious? A breakup talk? Please no. Not like this, not now.
My brain was screaming, I don’t care if I’m just a fling... just let me stay here!
Then Logan went on.

“You come stay here sometimes.”

His voice was rougher than usual.

“One night, maybe two… sometimes a little longer. But after you leave, the house feels too big. Too quiet... I get lonely.”

I looked up before I even realized it.
It was the first time I had ever heard him say he was "lonely".
He looked straight at me, eyes steady, and kept talking.

“So before I fall asleep in this bed, I start wondering. When you’ll come next. How long you’ll stay... If you’ll really come back at all.”

He let out a small laugh halfway through, like he was exhaling the words, but his eyes stayed serious.

“I keep thinking about a younger man like a fool. Don’t make an old man feel this way. So if you feel the same… no, this is my request.”

Time froze for a second. Then he said it, slow and careful.

“…Would you live with me, Wade?”

Of course I said yes!! Of course!!!!
I shouted it, actually, and threw myself at him right after.
I buried my face in his chest and hugged him so hard it nearly hurt to breathe.
I wanted to say something cool and heartfelt, but everything jammed in my throat.
“Love” and “thank you” all tangled together.
I should’ve said something perfect like I’ll never let you feel lonely again!

Instead, unbelievably, for a guy who never shuts up, I just kissed him.
When I pulled back and looked at him, his eyes were a little red at the corners.
Oh.
But I pretended not to notice and kissed him again.
He was warm, his beard tickled my face, and he smelled like home, the scent I loved more than anything in the world.

…Wait a sec.
He still never answered my question, did he?

“What am I to you?”

Eh, it’s fine. Not tonight!

---

One month later.

I’d moved into Logan’s place.
Didn’t have much to bring—just four boxes.
Most of my furniture was still new, so I donated it to a nursing home and a church I sometimes work with, and we only needed one car trip to move everything.

Jubilee dropped by with pizza as a housewarming gift.
“You did it!” she said, snapping a photo of us, then one with all three of us together.
Logan was probably dying of embarrassment, but I was too happy to care.

After she left, Logan locked up the car while I carried in the last box.
That’s when someone behind us said, “Hi.”
I turned around, it was that neighbor guy I’d seen before.

“How are you, Mr. Howlett?”
Logan nodded. “Hi”

Then the man looked at me, at the box in my arms, and tilted his head.

“You’re the nephew, right?”

I was just about to play along again when Logan spoke up first, calm as anything.

“No, sorry. I didn’t say it before, but… he’s my partner.”

He pulled me close by the shoulder.
The neighbor blinked. My mind went completely blank.
Then I snapped to attention and blurted, way too loud, “Wade! I’m Wade!”
What the hell was that, rugby team roll call?

Logan looked completely calm, not awkward at all.
The man paused, then smiled softly.

“You should’ve said so earlier. Congratulations.”

Logan just gave a quiet nod. I stood there in shock, but inside I was screaming,
Oh, I’ll be happy, you bet I will!

The second the door closed behind us, I dropped the box and started dancing.

“Partner! Not nephew! partner!!”

Logan gave me that “you’re annoying” face, but I knew it was just him being shy.
Partner! He called me his partner!
That one word means more than any big, flashy declaration of love.

I’m gonna do my best to live up to that.
Be the kind of partner he can count on.

…Though honestly, that’s probably harder than finding his mouth under all that beard!