WC: ~6k
#

Trace only fell asleep for a few minutes against my chest, but he murmured as he was waking up, inhaling deeply before opening his eyes. Recognition filtered into his expression and he blushed.

"I fell asleep," he said softly enough that the breaths ghosted across my jaw. He leaned away, wiping at his mouth. "Fuck, did I drool? That is seriously not attractive."

I laughed, feeling terribly smitten. "No, you looked cute."

Trace's voice was playful, "Am I cute enough to be kissed in public?"

I looked around the area of the park we were in. It was mostly quiet, with a few families and couples populating the surrounding benches. A cyclist went down the pathway, and some guys were throwing a red frisbee back and forth. The reason I didn't like PDA was because of the attention it could attract. But, everyone seemed lost in their own world.

I cupped the back of Trace's head and pulled his mouth towards mine in a lengthy kiss. I took the time to get my fill of a taste that could only ever be Trace. He drew imaginary patterns up and down my chest before slowly breaking away from me. Even when the kiss was over I continued running my fingers through his dark, silky hair.

I sighed, speaking softly, "I'm not looking forward to going back at all. It scares me." It was nice to just be here with Trace, under the shade, and to be close to someone who cared about me and was kind to me. I lowered my hand from his hair and drew my fingers against the wooden ridges of the bench.

"Has it been worse than you've said?" He said tentatively. Trace's hand found mine on the bench, and he placed his palm on top before interlacing our fingers. I squeezed back, running the pad of my thumb over the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I just—this weekend has been really nice." Tears pricked my eyes. It was such a relief not to be stressed about things. "I like spending time with you, Trace."

Trace moved closer to give me a hug. "You can come back to Toronto with me. I would never think of you as a quitter. You've already proven that you can do this thing."

I squirmed, not liking what he was saying, and Trace gave me some space. Suddenly, we weren't sitting so close anymore and it was like our little bubble had popped.

I clenched my jaw. "I'm not going to leave early, Trace." Not after staying for as long as I had.

He held up his hands defensively. "Okay, it was just a suggestion."

I looked out into a grassy area, watching the red frisbee fly and float through the air. "There are so many things I haven't done in my life that I wanted to...because of how I am. I can't keep running away anymore." My fingers felt like they were buzzing and I started to take longer breaths. I felt like I was in a state where a few reminders would keep my anxiety under control. Breathe, and you'll be okay, I reminded myself.

"Prioritizing your mental health isn't running away," Trace said tightly.

I shook my head. "I know what I'm doing is unhealthy but I just have to do it anyways." People without anxiety or panic disorders wouldn't understand. My mental health was and always had been fucked. There was no path I could take in life that intersected with normalcy and "prioritizing" my mental health. It was either push past and trigger my stressors, or live off in my own bubble, alone, but maddeningly lonely.

Trace frowned and narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth briefly before closing it. He sighed. "I like you, Darius. A lot. So, it's hard to watch you suffer."

I could see his viewpoint but I wasn't going to change my mind. "It's just another week after this. Then, I'll come back to Toronto and things will be fine."

Trace pouted. "That's like seven whole days. What if you have a really bad attack?"

"My flight is already booked and everything, and..." I turned away slightly, squinting harder at nothing. "I don't know how I feel about you speaking so casually about my a-anxiety."

Trace sounded taken aback. "I'm not allowed to talk about it?"

I winced, directing my gaze back towards him. "That's not what I mean, it's just...weird. It's a sensitive subject."

Trace squeezed his face as he glanced down at his left leg. "It embarrasses you," he said softly.

My throat felt tight, and I wanted him to stop looking at his leg. I wanted to tell him it wasn't the same and my mental health was my problem. My fuck up. Maybe I was missing something but it was no where near as tangible as a leg. But my throat felt like it wasn't working.

Trace looked up eventually. "I'm going to pick you up at the airport. Just to make sure...that you're okay. What do you want to you when you get back?"

I eased at the change in conversation topic. "Sleep in my bed. Bake something for you. Visit my family, and Manny's. And—" I flushed, looking away. "Finish what we started last night."

Trace laughed softly and his voice was heat, "Yeah, I like the idea of finishing what we started. I guess I'll take care of things on my end, so I'm ready. It'll have to be slow though, I don't want to hurt myself since it's been a while."

I chewed my lip. "Have you ever gone this long in a relationship without..."

Trace thought for a moment. "No, actually. This is too much information but I'm kind of a greedy bottom, so these past few months have been rough." He said it like we weren't in a very public outdoor place.

"So that time...when you first came to my apartment and you said you thought desserts was a euphemism for...you know. You were ready to—"

Trace gave me a rakish grin. "If you're asking if I was ready to go, then yeah. You're ridiculously hot. And I've never met a guy who invited me up to his place basically on our first date and didn't want sex. That was surprising."

I flushed. "I never realized how it came across until after."

"Yeah, well that's part of what makes you so adorable. You do a bunch of things without any ulterior motives. It's refreshing. But," Trace's voice quieted as his voice turned suggestive, "couldn't you tell, even then, that I wanted to sleep with you?"

"I just really thought you wanted to try my desserts, Trace," I admitted honestly. God, even then. He'd been thinking of that stuff this long?!

Trace laughed like I'd told the funniest joke in the world. Then he scooted over to me on the bench, wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and drew me into a slow kiss.

When he broke the kiss I felt a little dazed. He kept his hand at the back of my neck,  his thumb circling around some of my baby hairs. Trace looked at me like I had hung the moon and it was almost too much. His voice was gentle, "We can do some sight seeing? How does that sound?"

Slowly but surely, I was slipping into this space of comfort with Trace that I only occupied around Manny and my brother. Being relaxed around someone was usually a foreign sensation but Trace made me feel so fucking normal and cared for, I loved it.

"It sounds good," I said slowly, wishing this feeling could last forever. 

#

The rest of the day was very touristy. We ate at restaurants they didn't have in Toronto, took lots of pictures, went to a few museums, and landmarks, all while picking up souvenirs. Somehow it never got awkward and the conversation didn't falter all day. Whenever Trace said anything a little risqué, he surprised me by saying it in French.

I'd gone to a francophone school as a child, which was a school for kids who had at least one parent with French as their mother tongue. In my family that was my mom, and so the instruction in the school was completely in French. It would be hard to say what my true native language was because of how integral all of my languages were to my upbringing but it was beyond comforting to know me and Trace has two languages in common.

There was a designer store that they didn't have in Canada and Trace asked if we could go in. He wanted a fanny pack, and maybe some clothes. I almost made a comment about if he was going to introduce colour into his wardrobe before thinking better of it. The man seemed to love the colour black.

There was a line up outside the store because only a certain number of people could be allowed inside at a time. We waited outside the store but to my surprise a car pulled up to the side of the street, stopping traffic.

The windows were tinted and I watched curiously as the back seat window rolled down and a child's head popped out. He had brown skin, a big mop of curly hair and a smile that lit up his entire face. The boy was grinning in excitement as he waved his arms at me. "Unca D! What are you doing here?!"

It took me a moment because of the strangeness of what was happening. I was here in New York with Trace and one of my relatives had bumped into me. I recognized the boy as my nephew, Cyrus JR, who we all just called CJ. I jogged over to the car, forgetting about Trace momentarily. If that was CJ then one of his parents had to be with him. I hadn't seen Cyrus in months and I hoped it was him.

"Hey CJ, what are you doing here?" I said excitedly, seeing how much he'd grown since I'd last seen him. The way he was growing he'd be a bean sprout just like me and Cyrus had been.

"No fair, I asked first. Daddy said you were on vacation which is why I haven't seen you in forever. Is this your vacation? Standing outside some store? Why can't you do that at my house? Who's that guy? What's his name? Can you hang out with us today? We're gonna get MagDonnals. I'm gonna go down the super duper slide. I made up that name. Isn't it cool?"

I'd nearly forgotten all the questions CJ was accustomed to asking but the driver leaned back and I saw it was Cyrus. "Stay right there!" he called out, "I'm gonna find parking and come meet you. I can't believe you're this close to New Jersey and I had no idea. Mom said you were sequestered in a house." He kissed his teeth before rolling up the windows and driving off.

Trace was nearly at the front of the line when I jogged back to him.

"Was that—?"

"Yeah," I said with a smile, "that was Cyrus! What a small world."

Trace looked at me and then away quickly. A hand stroked nervously through his dark tresses. "Oh," he said softly, "is he coming here?"

Trace looked distinctly uncomfortable and it took me a moment to recognize it for what it was. "Are you nervous?"

Trace winced and then frowned. "You said Cyrus is one of the most important people in your life. What if he doesn't like me or doesn't approve of us?"

I quirked my head to the side. "That won't happen. Cyrus is polite to anyone who's in my life." I sighed. "Even Jeremy."

"He met Jeremy?"

"Yeah, I took him to a basketball game but he was just ogling all the guys. That was depressing."

At that second I heard a squeal and then a small thump as CJ collided into my legs. "Unca D!" CJ was only four but full of life with explosive energy. He peered around me and looked up at Trace. "Who are you? Unca D, who is this?"

"I'm Trace," Trace said slowly, "and who are you?"

CJ giggled. "I've never heard that name before. My name is CJ. It's only two letters. I can't read but that's what people tell me. My full name is Cyrus Junior Kwabena Nkrumah, Isn't that cool?" CJ had a bit of a lisp and when he said his name it sounded more like 'thee J' and 'thigh-rus' which was adorable.

Trace nodded. "Yeah, it is."

Cyrus finally caught up to us and we went through another round of introductions. Cyrus was a couple inches taller than me but more muscular all the way around. If I thought I stood out, then having the two of us side by side was already causing a stir in the line.

A few people exited the store and the security guard ushered for us to come towards him. For an average sized person he was burly but he took off his dark sunglasses and stared at Cyrus.

"Wait a sec— are you Cyrus Nkrumah? Can I get a photo?" The security guard asked. For a moment I was just relieved no one had accused me of being Cyrus for once.

My brother smiled but I saw the strain around his eyes. "How about this: I take a photo with you and you let us shop without anyone else coming into the store? I don't like time with my son being interrupted."

"Yeah," CJ said in a huff, "I'm more important than fans!"

Cyrus looked down at CJ and spoke quickly in lilting Ewe, "Be polite, and stay with your uncle."

CJ stared hard at the ground, and nodded his head. He came to stand with me and Trace, accidentally falling into Trace's legs. He gave Trace an uncertain look before looking at me.

I ended up taking several photos before we were finally let into the store. There weren't too many store clerks and we caught up as Trace browsed.

Cyrus asked a lot of questions about Trace and it didn't take me long to realize Cyrus was politely but relentlessly grilling me. He wanted to know his age, profession, education, how we met, future plans, horoscope.

"How do you even know anything about astrology?" I interrupted eventually.

"Victoria loves that stuff," Cyrus replied, expression softening at the mentioning of his wife.

"That's great and all, but stop being rude to him," I said casually in Ewe, looking longingly at a pair of shoes. I doubted they had size 15 and a half.

CJ and Trace were out of earshot, but I could hear the high sound of CJ's voice as he asked endless questions.

"I'm just looking out for you," Cyrus said stubbornly, "I know you deserve the best. And you're still young, don't feel like you have to settle. He seems cool but at the end of the day I don't know him."

"Well, he's really nice. I told him about my—" I gestured vaguely at my head. "—And he's been understanding. So be nice."

"Mom said you're doing well in the competition but I should remind you, you don't need to do that shit just so we know how capable you are. Oh, and he's the video game guy, right?"

I stilled, switching into English. "How do you know that?"

"It's hilarious, actually. So, this trashy news site posted some picture last night of 'me' on a secret date with some guy. My fans realized it's this video game developer guy. He's Japanese, right? And that it wasn't me. They did some golden ratio shit to prove it wasn't me. Apparently my eyes are a little closer together, and yours are bigger. You don't smile as much as me either, and your face is apparently super symmetrical."

My heart did an awful flop in my chest and I blinked several times, trying to make sense of what my brother was saying. "Cyrus. I don't think that's funny."

The smile fell from his face but there was still a bit of humour in his eyes. "It is, they think I'm some closet case and that he's my secret side piece. We don't even look that alike. They'll publish anything to get a couple clicks."

I rubbed at my forehead. "I don't want anyone bothering him."

He waved his hand. "My publicist took care of it so the post is already gone. And I was doing an Instagram live with CJ last night anyways. We watched Brother Bear and he was crying a lot, so we went out for ice cream."

"I'm still sad, Daddy," CJ announced out of nowhere, "Do you think I'm cuter than Coda? Like, if I was a bear."

Cyrus picked CJ up and tickled him. "You'd be the cutest bear, CJ."

CJ giggled and snuggled against Cyrus' chest happily. "Okay, Daddy. Can we go to Mag Donnals now?"

"Wait until Uncle D, and his boyfriend are done shopping, okay?"

CJ gasped. His eyes widened as he gaped at me. "That's your boyfriend? Oh no! What if he doesn't like me?"

Trace came up to our little group with a surprising number of items in his arms. "I think I'm done now."

"Uhm, Mr.Trace, do you like me?" CJ said in a small voice.

Trace laughed. "Totally, CJ."

CJ wiped at his brow like he was sweating. "Whew! If you're Unca D's boyfriend, does that make you my Unca too?"

Trace froze, looking at all of us. "Uhh," his voice actually squeaked.

"He knows I'm gay," I explained briefly.

"Yeah," CJ supplied, "Mama says it's big kid stuff but I'm smart so I know all about big kid stuff."

Cyrus laughed at Trace's discomfort, and ruffled the curly mop of hair on CJ's head. "Are you ready to check out now?"

Trace frowned. "Yeah, you guys are kind of just blowing my mind here."

We went to the check out area and Cyrus insisted on paying for Trace's items. They argued for a few minutes before CJ interrupted.

"Just let Daddy buy it for you," CJ said with his arms across his chest. "This is taking too long, and I wanna leave."

Trace sighed. "I'm only doing this for you, CJ." Cyrus paid without a fuss and the cashier packed all of Trace's items into multiple boxes and bags.

After all that we piled into Cyrus' car and went to a nearby McDonalds. This time, Trace paid for everyone's meals and he seemed satisfied with his contribution.

CJ inhaled his kids meal before jumping into the playground with the other kids. There was a large bench that faced the indoor playground and we sat there. My brother and Trace started talking about camping of all things. I tuned out of the conversation, watching CJ play tag with some of the other kids.

Eventually, my brother drew me into the conversation the way he normally did when he saw me getting quiet. He would touch me if I was close enough or say something short in Ewe, or French to get me out of my quietness. Trace eventually got up to go to the bathroom and my brother turned to me on the bench.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

The question surprised me, but I gave a half shrug, surprised by my own feelings. "I am, Cyrus."

"Good. I hate how much I can't be there for you." His brows creased in frustration and that expression reminded me so much of our father, it made me miss him. "My job takes up so much time. I hate how much of everything I miss. You and CJ just grow up so fast, Mom and Dad are growing old. I don't like it. I wish I could just—" he stopped himself and gave me a rueful smile. "I'm going to make sure that when I'm not working, I'll be in Toronto from now on. Me and Vicki have talked, and there's less paparazzi, and it'll be closer to Mom and Dad. Closer to you."

My eyes widened the longer he went on. I hadn't realized he'd felt guilty about the distance. "That's a big deal, Cy."

"You're a big deal," he said softly, "and it's still in the works but my contract is up this year." Yeah, there'd been a lot of buzz about that already. He switched into Ewe, "I'm kind of a hot commodity at the moment and our hometown is already trying to scout me, even though it's not allowed right now. But, if I say yes, then I can see you guys all the time."

"Woah," I said in English, "are you serious?"  I knew the implications of what he was saying and it was less money, less prestige, and people would question his choice. He was only twenty-eight and those were golden years in basketball. But Cyrus wasn't like a lot of his peers, and knowing him, he could change the entire trajectory of a team if he wanted to. He made his own legacy and he crafted his own luck. "Can I hug you?" I asked quietly.

Cyrus looked surprised and then delighted. We stood and he hugged me tight and hard. My relationship with my brother was weird but he loved me so much and I was lucky to have him. Something small crashed into my legs and I moved away from my brother to see CJ grinning.

He raised his arms up. "I wanna hug, too, Unca D."

I picked him up and he curled against my chest. He had that clean sweat smell all kids seemed to have. I saw so much of Cyrus in CJ it was like looking into the past. I was glad he had the same happiness and none of my nervousness.

Today had been amazing. No stress, a day long date with Trace, and my brother and nephew clearly liked him, too. It was also sweet that Trace had been nervous at first because of how much their opinion mattered. Wow, Trace was already meeting my family...Things were serious.

We spent about another hour with Cyrus before we parted ways. He made me promise to call him when I got back to Toronto and promised he'd reserve some court side seats for me and Trace for the next time his team played there. Cyrus drove us to the hotel and by then the sun was setting and CJ was yawning in his booster seat.

#

When we got to the hotel room, Trace took a shower first, and changed in the hotel room while I took my shower. I was a little disappointed when I came out of the shower and Trace was wearing more clothing than he'd been the previous night. He was wearing an oversized crop top and a pair of briefs. His sleeve and prosthetic were also decidedly absent.

He scrolled absently on his phone while I lotioned and brushed my waves before putting on my du-rag. Once I was done, I cleared my throat.

Trace raised a brow and put his phone down.

"I had fun today," I said softly, "with you."

Trace smiled, and scooted closer to me on the bed. "Me too, I can't believe I have to go back home tomorrow."

I looked deeply into Trace's eyes for a moment before initiating a kiss with him. I licked into his mouth hungrily, twining my tongue with his and pushing him down on the bed until I was crowding over his body. We were pressed intimately against one another and I worried for a moment I was too heavy but Trace had his arm across my back, hugging me to his chest. He was warm, but his hair was still damp from his shower, wet droplets dampening the pillow where his head lay. The kisses were hard and hot and I was melting.

I didn't want him to go. I didn't want this to end. I kissed Trace harder, squeezing his thighs and his arms and wishing I wouldn't have to go back to Baking Beasts. I felt needy and clingy, but I didn't care. Maybe if I held onto him long enough and hard enough I could pretend this was forever.

I nipped along Trace's throat, tasting the salt on his skin and listening to his moans. "Give me a hickey," he said loudly, "on my neck. High up so everyone can see."

Heat pooled low in my belly at his words but I didn't think about it. I simply kissed his throat, before sucking hard against his neck. if he wanted people to see it then I would put my mark on him.

"Fuck," Trace groaned, twisting his hands on the bed sheets, "yes. Just like that." Trace surprised me by spreading his legs and squeezing his thighs against my waist. It brought us even closer together and I was almost overwhelmed by just how much of him I could feel.

We were chest to chest, hip to hip and thigh to thigh. I felt like I was falling into him and I loved it. A part of me just wanted to crawl up inside of him and stay there.

After giving Trace the hickey he was asking for he gave me a sloppy, wet kiss. He was breathing hard when he broke away. "What's the endgame here? I know you can feel me," Trace said in a low voice, pushing his hips hard against mine, "how far do you want things to go tonight?"

"Are you sure I won't fit?" I mumbled quietly, only thinking about one thing.

Trace's eyes widened. He shifted and I rolled off of him, immediately missing his warmth. But then Trace surprised me by sitting up on my thighs. He placed his palms on my chest and looked up at the ceiling. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and I watched his plump mouth as he gnawed at it. "You are seriously killing me here. I can't even look at you. How am I supposed to tell you no when you're looking at me like that? And no, you won't fit. But, this time next week, you will."

I put one of my hand's on his stomach, exploring the sinewy muscle of his skin and playing distractedly with his shirt. I wanted it off. "I wish I was average," I said quietly, closing my eyes and wishing a lot of things.

"Don't say that," Trace said, "stop saying you wish you were anyone else other than the person I love." His face lost all colour for a beat and then his skin went ridiculously red. "Shit," he whispered, "shit, fuck, fuck." Even the tips of his ears had gone red and it was fascinating, yet endearing to see Trace so flustered.

I raised my palm until it was over his left pec, and I could feel his heart hammering explosively in his chest. I squeezed, and Trace moaned. His lips were wet and parted, eyelashes fluttering slightly as he struggled to stay quiet. His hand moved to my wrist, as if he wanted to move my hand away. But, instead we stayed in that strange tableau of me touching Trace and him letting me.

"Can we cuddle?" I asked quietly.

Trace huffed, still flustered, and mumbled an assent.

We shuffled around until my head was cradled against Trace's chest. I snaked one hand out to draw distractedly against Trace's hip. I was officially obsessed with touching him and it was a marvel that I could.

"I won't say that kind of stuff anymore, then," I said eventually. "Also," I hesitated, "can you take off your shirt? I want to kiss you."

I helped Trace with his shirt and started to kiss invisible patterns around his chest and his stomach.

"So, you're not going to say anything about what I said?" Trace said softly.

Instead of replying I kissed Trace, twining my hands in his hair and cloaking my body over his. I didn't really want to talk or think. I just wanted to consume and be consumed.

So, that's what I did.

#

"Do you know how beautiful you are, Darius?" Trace said softly, still stroking down my chest. We'd kissed and touched like the previous night, but with our clothes mostly on. But more than anything Trace talked. A constant string of compliments flowed from his lips and I had no idea what to do with any of it.

"I'm not," I said quietly, loving the feeling of Trace's hands on me.

"You're wrong," he said before shutting me up with a kiss. It was slow, and soft; lingering. "I know you now, Darius. So I know you're beautiful, and you always will be. Can I sing for you?"

I laughed, thinking it was a joke but Trace's molten gaze was very real. "Uh, if you want."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting but Trace started humming at first, the deep sound easily penetrating through my rib cage. The sound was pure and I was shocked at the realization he could really sing. Though he started off low, his voice went high and melded into a clear, heart melting tone. Trace's voice was essentially androgynous and ethereal.

He sang quietly in Japanese, still maintaining control over his voice as he traced feather light patterns over my body. The song sounded depressing and mournful but because of Trace's voice it was hauntingly beautiful.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I felt emotional when he finished. "That was amazing," I said wetly, "how can you sing like that? It's so high. You sounded like a guy and then you sounded like a girl."

Trace laughed. "Yeah, I've gotten that a lot. That's how I used to sound as kid, and then my voice dropped but I can still sing up high. They call me a counter tenor."

"You said your mom was in theatre right? Why aren't you a professional singer?"

Trace snorted. "Because I don't want to be. Just because I'm good at something doesn't mean I'm gonna dedicate my life to it."

"Okay, you've got a point there. But what does the song mean?"

— song: Takeda no Komoriuta—

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

—

Trace tensed. "Well, it's complicated. But it's about a little girl living a shitty life as an indentured servant because she's of a low caste. Japan doesn't 'really' have castes anymore but there was this untouchable caste in Japan that were undertakers, butchers, and stuff. Burakumin. My mom is descended from that caste and it's caused her some problems in life. But the song originates from them. It turned into a lullaby later on and my mom used to sing it when I was a kid. But I'm always talking about myself. Tell me about you."

Trace placed his hand on my stomach, trailing his hand up to my pecs and then down to the top of my waistband. His touches were distracting but he'd just sung me the most beautiful lullaby so I'd let him do whatever he wanted to me. "What do you want to know?" I said throatily.

Trace chuckled into my skin. "Will I sound obsessed if I say everything?"

"Are you serous?"

"Shit, I do sound obsessed. When you get back let's do something."

"One of the things on your list?"

"Yes," Trace said with a grin, "we saw a musical and ate sushi so that's off and it's summer so we could go fruit picking, and then you could make me a pie. Or we could pickle fruit. I don't know how to do that but it seems like something you could do." I did know how to pickle fruit and vegetables, but Trace just continued talking, " when October comes we could go pumpkin picking and pumpkin carving. Go to some haunted houses. Do a horror marathon."

"October is months away," I said quietly, but hopefully. That would mean Trace saw a future with me. With us.

Trace's hands paused their distracted caresses as he thought. "Yeah, I've got things planned for every season. Its still summer, so hopefully we can go camping, and have a picnic at a park. In the Fall we can press leaves, go rollerblading, and carve pumpkins. Wait, I think I already mentioned the pumpkin thing. And then in winter we can go to the Christmas market, and build gingerbread houses, watch cute movies, and we can do that thing where we both wear one really big scarf and drink hot chocolate. In the Spring we can do pottery, and visit some museums. And then we can do things all over again the next year." By the end of Trace's spiel he was out of breath.

"You've got all that planned out?" I said incredulously.

"I mean, if you don't want to do that stuff then—"

"No," I interrupted, "I want to do all of that with you. And more. God, I'm going to miss you so much."

Trace sighed, stroking my cheek slowly. "I'm just going back to Toronto, Darius. I'll be there when you get back."

"What if—" I chewed on my lip, unable to verbalize my wants. "What if after all this things change and you don't feel the same?" I was getting used to being so comfortable around Trace even though it had taken months to get here.

"Why would they change?" Trace's voice was soft and soothing as he continued stroking my skin. "Love is never that fragile."

My voice was small, "You said the L word again."

Trace laughed. "It's inappropriate to say it this early but it's genuinely how I feel."

"Hmm."

He kissed the top of my head. "I don't expect you to say it back right now and I'm okay with that. I'm just indulging myself."

"I think I'm going to start crying," I said as my breathing started to become uneven. Soon, the tears started to fall, and I tried to control myself but it just made it worse.

Trace fumbled with the side table and soon he was drying my tears with a miraculous napkin. It reminded me of our first meeting so much I started to laugh until I was crying from the tears. I bet I looked crazy.

"Is this a panic attack?" Trace asked uncertainly.

"No," I said with a chuckle, "I just can't believe you're so nice to me. You care about my feelings, and what I think. You don't think I'm stupid and you try to understand me. It's almost too much and when you say...those words, I actually believe you."

Trace relaxed, not saying anything for a while as he continued his casual touches.  "I'm not perfect," he said eventually, and his voice was serious, "I get night terrors sometimes from the accident, I can be obsessive about keeping fit, I have a temper, I can be jealous, and possessive. I'm bossy in bed. Well, I'm always a little bossy."

"Okay," I said softly, "I have crippling anxiety, and a panic disorder. I need a lot of warning and build up to things. I'm shy, and I need resurgence. I can be difficult."

"So what?" Trace said with a yawn.

I was stunned enough by his reply that I suggested that we just head to sleep. It was late in the night already and Trace took his resident spot at my back as the big spoon. His foot found purchase between my own two feet and soon his breaths were in the evenness of sleep.

By then it was just me, the darkness and my thoughts. So many thoughts.

#

Overall thoughts?

What do you think of Cyrus and CJ? Was it interesting to see how Darius' family members behave around him?

Did you listen to the song? I had trouble including the link. Were you able to play it?

Favourite part of Darius and Trace's relationship?

Worries for Darius as he re-enters that last stages of Baking Beasts?