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Link had been a night person, once.
He had loved the way the darkness wrapped itself around the world, how it forced proximity, making people cling to each other like they were afraid to be lost in it. He had loved the way warm yellow light appeared in people’s windows every night like clockwork. He had liked imagining families happier than his gathering around their dinner tables, shut in together against the cold that seeped through the cracks in their doors.
As he got older and his father got angrier, the comfort he had once found in the dark gradually turned into something akin to dread. Being shut in together meant danger. It meant analyzing the pattern of footsteps in the hallway and choosing every word meticulously. It meant learning to prefer the sun.
Sitting in his mother’s living room that night, the sun long gone, the tightness in his chest had returned as if nothing was different. He inhaled deeply, feeling it loosen slightly as he breathed out, relishing in the comfort of finally being somewhere safe and indoors. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders and glanced at Travis, who was sitting on the chair closest to the TV, happily invested in the cartoons he’d begged Link to put on. The tightness loosened a little more.
Pasmay sat next to Link on the couch, staring absentmindedly at the TV while his fingers played with the hem of Link’s blanket. He was quiet. Link wanted to be closer to him, to chase that feeling he only got when they touched, the one he feared he was becoming addicted to. He wanted, and yet he could not. This was unfamiliar territory. Something about touching Pasmay after finishing their journey felt different, like he wasn’t sure that his affection would be reciprocated anymore. Maybe Pasmay had only wanted a distraction from days of endless walking and barely-satisfied hunger. Maybe now that they’d reached their destination, the idea of them being together was no longer exciting. Maybe he had plans to leave in the morning while Link slept, before he had a chance to beg him to stay.
His thoughts began to spiral. Subconsciously, he brought his hand to his mouth and began chewing on his thumbnail, an old habit he’d picked up from years of anxiety thrumming through his body. He was used to worrying. It was comfortable. You don’t grow up in a home where bruises don’t have time to heal without learning to be cautious.
He tasted blood. A comfort.
“Link.”
He was still cold. A constant.
“Link, hey.” Pasmay’s voice was impossibly soft.
He turned his head and met Pasmay’s eyes. He loved Pasmay’s eyes. They mirrored everything beautiful. When they caught the firelight, the flames turned them to gold. It ached to look at him.
“I can hear you thinking,” Pasmay said, reaching out and gently removing Link’s hand from his mouth. He pulled his arm gently into his lap, intertwining their fingers. “What’s up?” he asked quietly, dark eyes searching Link’s for an explanation.
Link took a shuddering breath, his heart rate slowing as he looked down at their joined hands and then back up at Pasmay. His dark hair fell in perfect waves around his face. He wanted to touch it. He didn’t.
He shook his head instead, dismissing the question. He didn’t have the words to answer it. Shifting slightly lower in his seat, he laid his head on Pasmay’s shoulder and allowed himself to feel protected. The material of his borrowed t-shirt was soft against his cheek.
“Trav, time for bed,” Link said, tearing his brother’s attention away from the TV.
“But you get to stay up,” Travis whined. He pulled his best puppy eyes. “Five more minutes?”
“Now, Travis.”
“Fine,” Travis conceded, still pouting. He got up from his chair reluctantly.
“C’mere.” Link sat up and reached out with his free hand to grab Travis’s arm, pulling him towards him, and kissed the top of his head.
“Ugh, what was that for?” Travis asked, feigning disgust.
Link smiled, laying his head back on Pasmay’s shoulder. “Go to bed.”
“G’night, kid,” Pasmay said, a smile playing on his lips.
Travis stood in place, finally registering the scene in front of him. His blue eyes lit up knowingly.
“Hey, are you guys-”
“Goodnight, Travis!” Link cut him off, half exasperated, half embarrassed. He wouldn’t even know how to answer the question his brother had clearly intended to ask.
“Goodnight,” Travis huffed, the pout returning to his face.
Pasmay chuckled quietly as he left the room dragging his feet. Link’s face felt hot.
“You’re a good brother,” Pasmay said. The sincerity in his voice made Link want to cry.
“I have to be,” he responded, quietly. “That kid is my whole life.”
Pasmay hummed, considering. He opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it, opting instead to rub his thumb gently back and forth across the back of Link’s hand. The blood on his thumb had started to dry.
Link was quiet, watching the cartoon characters dance around the screen. He just wanted to be held. This stubborn, persistent yearning to be touched was no stranger to him. He had grown accustomed to the ache, and it had never been remedied. But when Pasmay had run his hands so gently along the lines of his body, touching him like he was beautiful, it had been eased, and he had felt so light he worried he might float away. The ache had returned since then, settling neatly back in the pit of his stomach, right where it so stubbornly seemed to belong.
He knew what he wanted, but it felt too needy, too soft, too much. He was always too much. But he was exhausted, and his inhibitions slipped further by the minute, so he settled for all that he could muster. He moved his leg so that their knees were touching, and when he heard no objection, he pulled their joined hands from Pasmay’s lap into his, hugging his arm. He felt like a child.
Neither spoke. They sat in this position for what must have been only minutes but felt like hours. Link was growing restless, frustrated with himself for not being able to verbalize what he wanted. He chewed the inside of his cheek and let the pain ground him.
When Pasmay shifted slightly in his seat, Link sat up, eyes wide.
“Are you leaving?”
Pasmay looked at him, biting back a smile. “No. Why, do you want me to?”
“No,” Link responded. He looked away. “I mean, you can. If you want to.”
“I don’t want to. What’s up, Lincoln?” Pasmay asked again, even more gently this time. The hint of amusement was gone from his voice.
Link felt his heart twist at the use of his real name. Nobody had ever made it sound beautiful before.
“Can I– I mean, will you–” his voice trailed off, defeated. “Sorry.”
“Look at me.”
Link turned his head and slowly lifted his gaze to do as Pasmay said. He felt inexplicably exposed.
Pasmay chose his words carefully. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking? Please? I want to listen to you.”
“I just–” Link paused. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay, ask me. You can ask me anything, Link.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Link admitted, fighting the urge to look away. His nails dug crescents into his palm.
“You can’t.” Pasmay’s tone was firm. He had that look on his face that made Link feel safe– a sort of quiet defiance that dared anyone to disagree. He’d looked at Link like that the first day they met. This time, though, he knew that he was being protected. Cared for.
“Is it okay that I’m touching you?”
Pasmay softened. “Of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay.” He furrowed his brows. “Is that what you were so scared to ask?”
“No.” Link’s face burned. “I wanted to— I wanted to know if you would hold me.” He felt so small he could disappear.
Pasmay pulled his arm out of Link's grasp. Link’s heart sank. Fuck.
Before Link could apologize or run away or simply disintegrate into thin air, Pasmay was holding his face in both hands and swiping his thumb gently across his cheek. “I would love to.”
He smiled softly as Link visibly relaxed. He pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his forehead, rubbing their noses together before pulling away.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“What?” Now it was Link’s turn to look concerned.
“Have I done something to make you feel like you can’t touch me? Because I’m racking my brain and I can’t think of–”
“Do you still want me?” Link interrupted, voice strained.
Pasmay stared at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion, seemingly at a loss for words. “Do I still-? Link, what are you–”
“We made it, Pasmay. I found my mom, and Travis and I are safe, and I have a place to stay, and now I’m not–” he paused, blinking against the tears welling up behind his eyelids. “Now I’m not interesting. I'm just a mess. I don’t have a plan, and I can’t hitchhike between powwows with you or go wherever I want whenever I want to. I can't have sex under waterfalls anymore.” His voice was quiet now. “I’m afraid that you won't want me when all that's left is this. And I don’t want to touch you if you don’t.”
“Lincoln,” Pasmay started. He said it in that beautiful way again. His eyes were sad. It was too much.
Link let out a sob, hot tears spilling over and staining his t-shirt. He swiped angrily at them. “Sorry, fuck, sorry.”
Pasmay reached over and pulled him into his chest, wrapping him tightly in his arms. He kissed the top of his head, whispering into his hair, sweet and soothing, until his shoulders no longer shook with sobs. When he was satisfied with the pattern of Link’s breathing, he pulled away slowly and reached out to tilt his chin up towards him.
“I don’t have a plan either, Link. I got into all of this because I was just as lost as you were. Well, and because I thought you were hot.” He smiled. Link flushed and swatted his shoulder.
“I had a lot of fun the past few days. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” he continued. “But it was also really hard. And I'm just- I'm so tired of running. I want somewhere safe I can come back to at the end of every day. I want someone to come back to.” He looked down before speaking again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more.”
For the first time all evening, Link was warm. He reached out and brushed Pasmay’s hair out of his face, running his fingers through silky waves. “You look at me, now.”
When Pasmay’s eyes met his, Link moved his hand to the back of his neck and pulled him in, kissing him for the first time since the waterfall, when he had been taken apart and put back together all at once. He kissed him slowly, with purpose, like he wanted to make Pasmay understand what he couldn't make himself say. I want you too. So badly it hurts. He felt a stray tear slide down his cheek.
Link pulled away first, already mourning the loss of Pasmay’s mouth on his. He wiped the tear from his cheek. And as if Pasmay had read his mind, he stood up from the couch, wordlessly extending his hand.
It reminded Link of waking up to the gentle sound of footsteps in tall grass, a hand outstretched, a dance that felt like home. He smiled at the memory and took Pasmay’s hand, letting him pull him up from his seat and back into his vicinity. Pasmay turned to leave the room, but Link stood in place.
“Hold on,” he said, letting go of Pasmay’s hand to fiddle with the remote, turning off the TV. He placed it on the coffee table and picked up the pillows that Travis had evidently decided were in the way, arranging them carefully on the chair. He surveyed the room one final time and deemed it satisfactory. He turned back to face Pasmay.
“Okay,” he said.
Pasmay had been watching him, a fond expression on his face. He reached out to wrap Link’s blanket tighter around his shoulders. “You’re cute.”
Link couldn’t have fought the smile that crept across his face if he tried. He shoved Pasmay’s shoulder. “Come on, I’m tired.”
He followed Pasmay into the spare bedroom and closed the door behind them as Pasmay laid on the bed, propping his head up on the pillows and closing his eyes. Link stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do with himself.
Pasmay opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on Link. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I thought you said you were tired.”
“I am.”
“Well get over here then, weirdo.”
Link shuffled sheepishly over to the bed, pulling back the covers as Pasmay opened his arms to allow him into his space. Link pressed his body firmly up against him and laid his head on his chest, sighing contentedly when Pasmay wrapped his arms around him and pressed a soft kiss into his hair. His mind quieted. The ache subsided. This, he thought, was how he wanted to die.
They laid like this, the only movement the steady rise and fall of Pasmay’s chest as he breathed, lulling Link closer to sleep. He kept his eyes open, not quite ready to be unconscious of the way their bodies intertwined, the way Pasmay was holding him, deliberately, like he was precious.
When his eyelids grew heavy and Pasmay’s breathing had slowed, Link lifted his head to check if he had fallen asleep, smiling fondly upon seeing his closed eyes and slack expression. He paused, studying the way his eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones. The sliver of moonlight peeking through the curtains had turned his black hair blue. He was like magic.
“You’re staring,” Pasmay said, voice low. He opened his eyes.
“Sorry,” Link flushed. “I thought you were asleep.”
“It’s allowed. I know you think I’m pretty.”
Link rolled his eyes. “I’m going to sleep now.” He returned his head to Pasmay’s chest, cheeks tinged pink.
“I don’t hear you denying it.”
“Goodnight, Pasmay.”
Pasmay laughed, arms squeezing him tighter. “Goodnight, Lincoln.”
The room fell silent.
“Hey, Link?”
“Yeah?”
“We could still have sex under waterfalls, you know. I’m sure there’s one around here somewhere.”
Link groaned, mortified. “I hate you.”
Pasmay grinned in the dark. “No, you don’t.”