Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jonathan Pine learns early how to disappear without leaving a room.

It’s in the way he smiles when spoken to, how he says of course and no problem and I’m fine until the words feel hollow.

It’s in the way he hides pain behind competence, behind usefulness, behind being exactly what everyone needs him to be. Including Teddy. Jonathan is careful. Long sleeves. Locked doors. Late nights when the villa sleeps and no one is watching. He tells himself it’s contained, controlled—something he can tuck away like everything else. Teddy notices anyway.

Teddy notices the tension first. The way Jonathan flinches when touched unexpectedly. The way he vanishes for too long. The way his eyes look darker, like something is draining him from the inside out.

“You’re hiding something,” Teddy says one night, conversational, dangerous.

Jonathan doesn’t look up. “You imagine things.”

Teddy watches him closely. “I imagine very little.”

Jonathan keeps hiding. Keeps insisting. Keeps going—until one evening he slips. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough. Teddy sees the way Jonathan freezes when his wrist is caught mid-movement. Sees the truth land in Jonathan’s eyes before he can cover it. The silence that follows is thick.

“How long?” Teddy asks, quietly now. Jonathan swallows.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Teddy says, voice low and tight.

“Because you’re hurting yourself.”

Jonathan laughs, brittle.

“Don’t act like you care.”

Teddy steps closer.

“Don’t act like I don’t.”

For a while, it helps. Teddy keeps him close, keeps an eye on him. Jonathan breathes through urges instead of giving in. He talks—sometimes. Enough. He tells himself he’s past the worst of it.

Chapter Text

Jonathan Pine sinks down the door, spine sliding until the cold floor meets him. His hands won’t stop shaking. He presses them flat against his thighs, like pinning something dangerous in place.
You were doing better.

The thought lands and splinters. You were supposed to be doing better.

His breathing goes thin and fast. He tries to slow it, counts the tiles, the grout lines, the cracks—anything solid. Nothing sticks. The room feels too small for his lungs. His heart is hammering like it’s trying to escape first.

Just make it quiet.

The thought scares him. He hates how familiar it is. Hates how convincing it sounds when he’s this tired.
He presses his forehead to his knees. His eyes sting. I don’t want this, he thinks, panicking at the realization that wanting it and not wanting it can exist at the same time. That he can be terrified and still feel pulled.

There’s a knock.

“Jonathan?”

The sound of his name feels like a hand closing around his throat.

“Go away,” he says, and it comes out wrong—too sharp, too small. He squeezes his eyes shut. If he sees me like this, he’ll know I’m broken. If he knows, he’ll leave.
Outside the door, a pause. Then a careful step closer.

“Open the door,” says Teddy. Not a command. A plea he’s trying to disguise.

Jonathan presses his back harder into the wood, as if he can become part of it. His thoughts are racing now—guilt stacking on guilt. I promised. I said I would talk. I said I wouldn’t lock myself away again. Shame burns hot and relentless.

“I’m fine,” he lies, voice cracking on the word. “I just need a minute.”

Silence. Heavy. Expectant.

Then Teddy’s voice breaks through it, raw and unguarded. “Jonathan, please.”

That word—please—unravels him. His chest tightens until it hurts. Tears spill, unwanted and humiliating. I don’t want to hurt you, he thinks wildly. I don’t want to be this.
The panic spikes. His breath stutters, turns jagged. He can’t remember how he got here, only that everything feels too loud inside his head. He’s losing the thread. That terrifies him more than anything.

“I can’t,” he whispers, though he doesn’t know what he means. I can’t open the door. I can’t stop. I can’t be the person you think I am.

The handle rattles.

Jonathan jerks backward, heart slamming. His mind floods with images of disappointment, disgust, abandonment. I’ve ruined it. I’ve ruined everything. He curls inward, trying to make himself smaller, safer.

“Jonathan!” Teddy’s voice cracks open, panic naked now.

“Talk to me. Just—just talk to me.”

The door shudders with the first impact. Jonathan flinches hard, a sob tearing out of him. This is my fault. I did this. I made him scared.
The second hit lands heavier. The house itself seems to recoil.

“I’m here,” Teddy shouts, voice breaking.

“I’m not leaving you. Do you hear me?”

The third strike splinters the lock. Wood gives way with a sharp, final sound, and the door bursts inward.
Teddy is on the floor in front of him in an instant, breath ragged, hands hovering like he’s afraid to do the wrong thing. His eyes are bright, furious with fear.

“Oh—God,” Teddy breathes.

“Jonathan.”

That’s when Jonathan breaks completely. The control he’s been clinging to dissolves, and he folds in on himself, sobbing, words tumbling out between gasps.

“I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to. I tried to stop. I was scared—”

Teddy gathers him up carefully, fiercely, one arm solid around Jonathan’s back, the other bracing him, anchoring him in place.

“I know,” he says, voice shaking.

“I know you tried.”

Jonathan clutches Teddy’s shirt like it’s the only thing tethering him to the room.

“I thought you’d hate me,” he chokes.

“I thought if you saw me like this—”

Teddy presses his forehead to Jonathan’s temple, breathing him through it, steady and relentless.

“I was terrified,” he admits.

“But I’m here. I’m still here.”

The panic ebbs in brutal, shuddering waves. What’s left is exhaustion and shame and a fragile, aching relief that makes Jonathan cry harder.

Teddy doesn’t let go.

Not when Jonathan trembles.

Not when the tears slow.

Not when the silence finally settles around them like something earned.

“You don’t disappear on me,” Teddy murmurs, rough and certain.

“Not tonight. Not ever.”

Jonathan nods weakly against him, spent. He’s still here. And for now—somehow—that’s enough.

Chapter Text

Jonathan doesn’t remember when the shaking stops.

Only that Teddy is still there.

He’s wrapped in a blanket that smells faintly of detergent and salt air, knees drawn up, Teddy’s arm firm around his shoulders like a barricade against the world. The bathroom is wrecked—splintered wood, the door hanging uselessly—but Teddy positions himself so Jonathan doesn’t have to see it.

“Breathe with me,” Teddy murmurs, low and steady.

“In. Good. Out. Again.”

Jonathan tries. Fails. Tries again.

Every time his breath stutters, Teddy adjusts—hand warm at his back, pressure grounding, real. Jonathan clings to that sensation like it’s the only proof he exists.

“I’m sorry,” Jonathan whispers, hoarse. The words feel inadequate, useless.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Teddy’s grip tightens, just slightly. “You don’t get to apologize for being in pain.”

Jonathan swallows hard. “I thought I’d lost you.”

That lands.

Teddy goes still, then leans his forehead against Jonathan’s hair.

His voice is rough when he speaks. “You almost lost yourself. That’s the part that matters.”

Jonathan’s eyes burn. The shame hits late, vicious and sharp. He turns his face away.

“I hate that you had to see me like that.”

Teddy shifts, guiding Jonathan’s chin back gently, insistently.

“Look at me.”

Jonathan does. His eyes are red, wrecked, stripped bare.

“I didn’t see something ugly,” Teddy says.

“I saw someone drowning.”

Jonathan’s breath catches. He nods once, tiny and broken. They sit there for a long time. Teddy doesn’t rush him. Doesn’t let him retreat either. When Jonathan starts to drift with exhaustion, Teddy adjusts the blanket, stays alert, stays present.

“You’re not alone tonight,” Teddy says quietly.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Jonathan believes him—because he’s still there.

Chapter Text

Morning is worse than the night.

The adrenaline is gone, leaving Jonathan hollow and raw. He wakes on the sofa, sunlight too bright, head pounding with memory. The broken door flashes back in fragments—the sound, Teddy’s voice, the fear in his eyes.
Jonathan curls inward, mortified.

Teddy is already awake, sitting nearby with a mug of tea Jonathan hasn’t touched yet. He doesn’t pretend everything is normal. He doesn’t dramatize it either.

“Morning,” Teddy says softly.

Jonathan winces. “I’m sorry.”

Teddy sighs—not angry, just tired. “We’re not starting there.”

Jonathan pushes himself upright, shoulders hunched. “I don’t know how to face you.”

Teddy studies him. “By being honest.”

Jonathan’s hands twist together. “I feel like I failed. Like I undid everything.”

Teddy shakes his head. “You didn’t undo anything. You survived a bad night.”

Jonathan laughs weakly. “That doesn’t feel like success.”

“No,” Teddy agrees. “It feels like work.”

They sit with that. Jonathan’s chest aches with the weight of it—knowing this isn’t over, knowing there will be more nights like that.
“I don’t trust myself,” Jonathan admits quietly.

Teddy doesn’t argue. “Then borrow my trust for a while.”

Jonathan looks up, startled.

“You don’t have to carry this alone,” Teddy continues.

“But you do have to stay visible. No locked doors. No disappearing.”

Jonathan nods, throat tight. “I can try.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Teddy slides the mug closer. “Drink. We’ll take today slow.”

Jonathan wraps his hands around the warmth. The house feels different now—less like a hiding place, more like something he has to remain inside.
It’s terrifying.

Chapter Text

Teddy doesn’t sleep the next night.
He sits in the dark, listening.
Every sound Jonathan makes registers immediately—the shift of weight, the breath drawn too sharply, the pause that lasts a second too long. Teddy’s chest tightens each time, fear coiled and ready.
He keeps seeing it: the locked door, the silence, the way Jonathan didn’t answer at first.

Took too long, his mind whispers. You almost took too long.
The realization claws at him. Teddy is used to control. To leverage. To being the one who breaks things open and walks away untouched.
This time, the door broke—and it nearly broke him.
He scrubs a hand over his face, breath unsteady. The idea of Jonathan alone in that room, convinced he wasn’t worth saving, makes something ugly and furious rise in his chest.

“I should’ve seen it sooner,” Teddy mutters to the empty room.

Footsteps. Quiet.

Jonathan appears in the doorway, hesitant. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Teddy’s heart lurches—but he keeps his voice steady. “Come here.”

Jonathan crosses the room slowly, like he’s afraid to be turned away. Teddy opens his arms without thinking. Jonathan leans in, tentative, then clings.

Teddy closes his eyes.

This is it, he thinks. This is what almost vanished.

He presses his chin to Jonathan’s hair, grounding himself as much as Jonathan.

“You scared me,” he admits softly.

“More than I’ve been scared in a long time.”

Jonathan stiffens. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Teddy says immediately.

“But I need you to understand something.”

Jonathan looks up, wary.

“You matter,” Teddy says, voice low and unsteady.

“Not because you’re useful. Not because you’re strong. Because you’re here. And I don’t want a world where you aren’t.”

Jonathan’s eyes fill. He nods, overcome.

Teddy holds him tighter, fear and resolve braided together. He doesn’t know how many nights like this there will be. He doesn’t know how to fix it.

But he knows this:
he will listen for the silence,
he will break down every door if he has to,
and he will not look away again.

Chapter Text

Teddy becomes careful in ways Jonathan doesn’t recognize at first.

It’s small things. Teddy walking him to his room at night. Teddy sitting where he can see the doors. Teddy checking bathrooms before Jonathan goes in, checking drawers Jonathan didn’t even remember existed.

Nothing sharp stays where it used to.

Teddy doesn’t announce it. He just… rearranges the world.

Jonathan notices anyway.

He notices the way Teddy’s eyes track him when he’s quiet too long. The way Teddy asks where are you going like it’s a reflex. The way Teddy sleeps lighter now, waking at every sound.
Once, Jonathan finds Teddy sitting awake in the dark, watching the door to Jonathan’s room like it’s something that might swallow him whole.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jonathan says quietly.

Teddy looks at him, eyes tired and fierce. “Yes,” he replies. “I do.”

Jonathan’s chest tightens painfully. He doesn’t know how to hold something that looks so much like love and fear tangled together.

Chapter Text

It breaks on a bad day.

Jonathan is already wound tight — restless, angry at himself, angry at the world for not being quieter. Teddy asks where he’s going when Jonathan stands too fast.

“Outside,” Jonathan snaps.

Teddy rises immediately. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” Jonathan says. “You won’t.”

Teddy frowns. “Jonathan—”

“I said no,” Jonathan snaps again, voice sharp with humiliation.

“I can’t even be alone for five minutes without you hovering like I’m about to shatter.”

Teddy stiffens. “Because sometimes you are.”

That lands like a slap. Jonathan’s hands curl into fists.

“You took everything,” he says, voice shaking now.

“You took everything. I don’t even have the choice anymore.”

That’s the point,” Teddy fires back.

“I’m not burying you because I gave you privacy.”

Jonathan laughs, broken and ugly. “You think this helps? You think being treated like a bomb makes me want to live more?”

Silence crashes down between them.

Jonathan’s chest heaves. The urge is loud now — hot and immediate — but there’s nowhere to put it. Nothing to reach for. That makes it worse.

“I hate this,” Jonathan chokes.

“I hate that I want to hurt myself and can’t, and I hate that you’re watching me like I’m already dead.”

Teddy’s voice drops, raw. “I’m watching you because I love you.”
That stops Jonathan cold.
The fight drains out of him all at once, leaving behind only the wreckage. His shoulders slump. Tears spill, sudden and humiliating.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs.

“I didn’t mean— I know you’re trying. I just feel trapped inside my own skin.”

Teddy steps forward, slower now. Careful. He pulls Jonathan into his arms, holding him while Jonathan cries like it’s been building for weeks.

“I’d rather you be angry and alive,” Teddy murmurs into his hair,

“than polite and gone.”

Jonathan nods against him, clinging. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

“I know,” Teddy says.

“I know.”