“I don’t—”
“At. What. Cost.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. There’s no cost too great. Not now. Not if it means what we think it does. You’ve seen the scans. He’s reversing. No one has ever—”
“I can’t watch you do this.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to do your job.”
They fade out, after a time.
It’s easier to fall asleep than he thinks it will be.
IT’S EASIER the next day.
Because yes, there’s slipping, and yes, his wrist itches, and yes, he sees starlings in the trees, but it’s easier. He hasn’t given up. He hasn’t accepted anything. But somehow, it’s easier.
It’s easier to smile that morning in the diner. He makes fun of Happy as he groans about how his head hurts. He blushes when Sean calls him big guy and steals a kiss that Mike would have freely given. He laughs at Calvin and Donald as they shovel bacon down their throats just to see Happy turn a little green. He winks at Walter back in the kitchen. He says good morning to everyone he sees.
“Hey,” Sean says before he leaves for Bookworm. They’re standing outside the diner around the back where Sean had been taking out the trash. The trash that never seems to pile up.
Mike arches an eyebrow at him, because who cares about trash when it doesn’t matter?
“I was thinking.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Har, har, real comedian over here.”
“Tell me.”
And Sean blushes, eyes darting left and away. He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone more handsome than him, even with grape jelly smeared on his apron and smelling like eggs. “I was thinking.”
“About….”
“Tomorrow’s the Harvest Festival.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah,” he says. He huffs a laugh. “So. You don’t work tomorrow. And I don’t work tomorrow.”
Mike can see where this is going, and it makes his skin buzz. “Right.”
“Maybe I could, or you could, or—just.” He groans and covers his face with his hands. “I told myself not to make a big deal out of this.”
“Sean.”
He peeks out through his fingers. “Yeah?”
“You want to stay with me tonight?” Or forever, but he doesn’t say that part.
Sean nods, head snapping once, twice as he drops his hands. “Yeah, yes. Sure. Yeah, I’d like that. If that
’s okay with you. I don’t want to pressure you or anything. I know we’re taking it slow, even if we’re going steady now—”
Mike doesn’t care about that anymore. He’s already so deep that slow is a distant memory. He can’t even be sure any of this is real, so why wait? Why not take what he wants? Why not finally get to see what he’s dreamed of since that first day, the sight of Sean stretched out in his bed, chest slick with sweat, mouth open and panting?
He covers Sean’s mouth with one big hand, effectively shutting him up. Sean’s eyes are wide and only for Mike. Mike takes a step forward until his arm is folded between them. Sean’s back is against the side of the diner and Mike’s pressed up against him, enough so Sean knows he’s serious, but not enough to hurt him. “You want to stay with me tonight?”