Page 75 of Cross the Line

Alec wills away another round of tears. Unbidden, the mental image of Theo here undoing Alec’s pants for him before pushing them down his hips appears. He wishes Theo was in the darkened room, brushing his hair off his face and asking if he’s alright. He’s not. Not even a little bit. Maybe if Theo were here, he might even tell him that.

At this point it’s become automatic to tell people he’s fine when they ask, regardless of the real answer. He spent so long trying to escape his brother’s shadows and prove he could handle things himself that he sometimes forgets it’s okay to ask for help, to need people. Right now, Alec needs Theo. Or maybe he just wants him. It’s hard for Alec to be sure which one it is.

Alec wishes Theo was here with his steady hands to help Alec rinse away the memory of tonight, liquor and puke and the hands he didn’t want on his body. He wants to wash it away, wash them away.

Between the frustration of being unable to get his stupid fucking jeans off, along with the throbbing in his head, he wants to collapse to the floor and stay there, but he knows that would only make everything worse. He holds out hope that getting into the shower might help, but getting those few feet into the shower feels nearly insurmountable. It’s only the feeling of dried throw up on his stomach that propels Alec forward, his knees hitting the tile floor as he falls into the tub and lets out a choked sob. He doesn’t bother standing up, doesn’t care that he’s still half dressed. He reaches for the knob and turns the water on high, too disoriented to figure out the temperature. Freezing cold water pounds down on his head as he tries to wash away the sadness that clings to his skin like a stain.

Every part of his body, from his ankles to his head hurts. He’s not sure if it’s from falling into the damn tub or if it’s sore from the game earlier, all he knows is that every inch of him aches. His muscles hurt, his head hurts, his eyes hurt. His stupid fucking heart hurts.

“I got some Gatorade for when you’re done,” Theo calls from the other side of the door. He’s so damn close. If Alec called for him, he would come. “It’s green apple, I hope that’s okay. That's all I had.”

Green apple Gatorade. Jason’s favorite flavor. Of course that’s what Theo has.

“Alec?”

Intending to offer some kind of reply, Alec opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Water splashes into his mouth and Alec opens it wider, tipping his face so the spray stings his eyes and fills his mouth, taking in so much water he chokes on it.

Peripherally he’s aware of Theo speaking again and the door opening, but none of that makes sense. The only thing that registers is Theo falling to his knees beside the tub, soaking the sleeves of his shirt as he reaches for Alec.

“Why didn’t you let me help?” Theo asks, his tone gentle as he pulls Alec into a standing position with him. Then he’s doing exactly what Alec wished he would earlier and removing his jeans, shoving them down so they fall in a heavy wet pile in the shower. “Can I?”

Alec nods, floating above himself while Theo’s nimble fingers push his soaking wet boxers off. The entire time Theo keeps his eyes on the shower wall. It’s just one more reminder that Theo’s kindness now has nothing to do with wanting to see Alec naked and everything to do with Alec being a pathetic, hot mess. Theo is careful as he washes Alec’s belly, rinsing soap from his body and scrubbing away the reminders of the club.

“Let’s get you dry,” Theo says, shutting the water off before wrapping a towel around Alec.

Though Alec tries to dry himself off, something in his brain has stopped working. He’s fuzzy, confused, and exhausted. The towel nearly falls to the floor but then Theo catches it, pulling it back around Alec’s shoulders and whispering softly while he towel-dries Alec’s curls. Theo’s hands are everywhere, running the towel across his back and down his spine, curling it around his hips and the insides of his thighs, even wiping away the water collecting on his toes. He’s so gentle and kind that whatever is left of Alec falls apart.

It’s impossible for Alec to know if Theo senses this or is just equally tired, but he keeps the questions to a bare minimum as he guides Alec out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. With breathtaking care, he lowers him onto the edge of Theo’s mattress before searching for some clothes for him. He returns with a pair of sweats that are several sizes too big and a t-shirt, frowning when he catches sight of Alec shivering. Theo uncaps the Gatorade before passing it to Alec along with a couple of Advil, making sure he chugs as much as he can.

“Why’d you have the water so cold, Alec?”

A shrug is all he can manage. Theo’s eyebrows knit together and he mutters to himself before turning around and heading back to his closet where he rummages through his sweater collection, returning with something thick and soft. He pulls it over Alec’s head, helping him get his arms in the sleeves, and politely ignores the way Alec’s eyes water. Unable to believe what’s happening, Alec breathes in Theo’s familiar scent, fingering the sleeves of the sweater where they hang over his hands. He’s pretty sure he’s had more than a few fantasies about Theo and his sweaters, but they usually involve things a lot sexier than being pulled out of the shower too stupid and drunk to wash himself.

Regardless of the reason, the comfort of Theo’s sweater unlocks something in Alec, and he gives up fighting and pretending he doesn’t desperately want to be taken care of. He’s so exhausted from always smiling, always pretending, that the smallest bit of comfort from Theo has him shattering into a million pieces. The alcohol seems determined to pluck out every insecurity and worry and burden from the recesses where Alec keeps them locked away, making them feel bigger and stronger than they do in the light of day.

“Let me change and I’ll help you to the living room,” Theo explains, turning his back on Alec while he undresses. “I already made up the couch and got you extra pillows and blankets.”

Alec knows he’s truly wrecked because he doesn’t even check out Theo while he undresses, too exhausted and achy to do more than collapse on Theo’s bed. The temptation to crawl up and use Theo’s pillow, to wrap himself in the same blankets Theo sleeps in, is nearly overwhelming. He tries to resist temptation, at least until Rio’s quiet meow comes from the floor. A second later she’s leaping onto the pillow as if by invitation.

“Hi,” Alec whispers, scooting the rest of the way up the bed to bury his face in Theo’s pillow while Rio curls herself into Alec’s throat. When Alec’s fingers smooth over her soft fur, his hands tremble. He’s so tired.

“Alec.”

Theo’s talking again, the sound of his feet padding across the floor a warning for his approach. Alec squeezes his eyes shut, waits for Theo to pick him up and physically move him to the living room so he can have his space back. Instead, a blanket is draped over his bare legs, pulled up to his chest and tucked around Alec and Rio as if they are welcome in his most personal space.

“I’ll take the couch,” Theo whispers.

Without thinking it through, Alec's eyes open while his hand flies out, seeking Theo’s gaze in the dark. He curls his fingers around Theo’s wrist, nails digging into the delicate underside. Beneath his fingertips he feels the beat of Theo’s pulse, slow and steady in sharp contrast to Alec’s heart, which is speeding like a freight train in his chest.

“What is it?”

“Stay,” Alec whispers, that one word costing him everything he has. “Please.” Unable to look at Theo’s face if he rejects him, Alec squeezes his eyes shut again and loosens his grip. He’s asked, damn near begged, and if Theo says no, he won’t ask again.

At the sound of Theo’s feet moving, Alec’s heart falls. He waits for the sound of the door shutting, surprised when the bed dips with Theo’s weight. Ever so slowly, Theo slips beneath the sheets, a barrier between their bodies as he scoots closer. Even with the blankets separating them, his proximity soothes and Alec inches as close as possible, snaking an arm out to slip it across Theo’s middle.

Over the years, Alec’s shared a bed with Antonio or Riley on more than one occasion. They’d always indulged his need for touch without much commentary, but this isn’t one of his best friends. This is Theo, and though blankets keep their flesh from touching, he’s never been so close to him before. He’s never been nearly naked in his bed, wrapped in one of Theo’s favorite sweaters, breathing in the scent of Theo’s soap and cologne on the pillow.

Theo’s presence is everywhere, from the firm side wedged against him to the sound of his breathing. It's so much and not enough, and Alec wants the kinds of things he only ever dared to imagine when he was alone. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the way Theo’s hand rests over Alec’s wrist, which could just as easily be an accident as much as something more. Whatever the reason, Alec's mouth has no more filter.

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