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It’s moments like this that Robby wishes he could stay in forever.
Has a lot of moments like that. Ones he wishes he could just live in. Watching Dennis dance around the kitchen in his boxers while he makes breakfast. Early morning forehead bonks and late-night kisses that lead nowhere because they’re both too tired after work. Late-night kisses that do lead somewhere, that lead to sweaty skin and throaty moans. Arched backs and oh shit, there, there, fuck, yes. Holding hands as they walk to work. Drinking from the same cup of coffee, the little face Dennis makes when it’s made the way Robby likes it instead of the way he does. All the little moments that make up their life together.
Thinks this might be his favorite, though. Dennis, tucked into his side. Head on his chest, ear over his heart. Knows Dennis has a thing for it, listening to his heartbeat. Falls asleep to it, every chance he gets. Knows one of his favorite things in the world is listening to it go from jackrabbit fast to normal sinus after sex, limbs tangled together. Isn’t doing that now, because tonight is a “too tired from work to even think about sex” kinda night. Not that Robby minds. Never passes up an opportunity to hold Dennis. Thinks that might be one of his favorite things. Thinks if he could pick a moment to live in forever, it’d be this one.
Dennis, in his arms, breath puffing against his skin, limbs thrown over him, like he’d crawl inside him if he could. Would let him, too, if he asked. Would crack open his ribs, hollow out his chest cavity. Make room for Dennis. Already made room in his heart, in his home, what’s one more place. Who needs lungs when he could have Dennis even closer to him. Tucked safe and sound where nothing bad could ever hurt him. Where Robby could keep him safe, protected. Knows Dennis can take care of himself. Knows he doesn’t need the protectiveness, doesn’t stop him from wanting to provide it. From wanting to keep him close, for as long as he can. From wanting to delay the inevitable.
Because Robby’s under no delusions about who he is. The kind of person, the kind of lover, he is. Knows this won’t last forever, no matter how badly he wants it to. No matter how much he wants to freeze this moment, live in it. Knows it won’t last, knows it’ll end. Knows it’ll be his fault when it does. Always is. Because he’s the kind of person people leave. Always has been. Has never been enough for anyone. Knows there will come a day when Dennis realizes he isn’t enough for him, too. Dreads it, with every fiber of his being. Accepts it, though, because it’s the way it’s always been.
His dad, whoever he is, left before he was even born. Wasn’t enough to keep him around, already failing before he was even out of the womb. His Mom left when he was eight. Remembers you’re gonna spend the day with Bubbe but I’ll come get you later okay my love? Remembers how it took him days, weeks to stop waiting by the front door every night, bag packed at his feet. Waiting on someone who never planned to return. Remembers the moment it clicked, that she wasn’t coming to get him. Wasn’t a good enough son, because if he was she would have come back for him.
Remembers his Grandmother, wrapping him in her arms while he cried. Remembers her saying it’s okay, I’m here, I’ll always be here. And she was. For years and years she was. Just him and her against the world, Grandpa already gone. And then she got sick and he wasn’t good enough. Not good enough to save her, to keep her with him. She died on a Tuesday morning, left him behind. If he’d just been a better fucking doctor, she wouldn’t have died, wouldn’t have left him. But he wasn’t and she did and it was his fault. Always his fault.
Others too. Janey, Collins. Jake, Adamson. Countless other relationships that all blew up in his face, with him as the common denominator. All of them left, for one reason or another. All his fault. Which is why he knows Dennis’ll leave too. It’s only a matter of time. Knows one day soon he’ll wake up and realize Robby isn’t what he wants. Is too emotionally unavailable, too old, too.. much. Too much and not enough all at once. Always has been. Always will be. Knows it’ll happen. Has never been able to keep anything good in his life before, and Dennis, Dennis is the best thing. Which is why he knows he won’t be able to keep him either. Because he isn’t enough to keep something like Dennis. Holds onto him while he can, greedy and desperate. Counts the days until he loses him, until he leaves.
Because he will, leave.
It’s only a matter of time.
“Shh,” Dennis grumbles, hand coming up to press a finger to his lips.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Thinking too loud. Sleep now, think later.”
Huffs a laugh, chuckles when Dennis mumbles a complaint into his collarbone. Feels affection bloom in his chest. Because how can he not. How can he hold Dennis in his arms like this and not fall in love with him. Not want to keep him forever. Knows he won’t get to. Already knows that he’ll let him go, when he decides he’s had enough of Robby’s bullshit. Will watch him walk away, when he chooses to go. Would rather see him happy with someone else than trapped with Robby, stuck with someone who isn’t deserving of him. Of his smile and his laugh and his light. Will let him go, when the time comes. And like when his mom left, he’ll wait by the door for days and weeks and months, on the off chance Dennis changes his mind and comes back for him.
“Still thinking.”
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
“Whatcha thinkin’ bout?”
“Nothing, go back to sleep.”
“Can’t. Not when I know you’re up brooding.”
“I don’t brood.”
“You do. You are. What’s wrong.”
Dennis sits up, a little. Props himself up on his elbow, just enough to look into Robby’s eyes. It’s not fair, how pretty his eyes are. Made prettier by how sleepy they are. Moves the hand from his lips to his chest, fiddles with his chest hair. Knows he’d be playing with his Magen David, if he was wearing it. It’s his favorite thing to fiddle with, when he has it on. Robby doesn’t wear it to bed, though, never has. Doesn’t like sleeping with a necklace on. So Dennis has to settle for combing his fingers through his chest hair instead.
“Come on, what’s going on in that big brain of yours.”
“Nothing.”
“Lotta thinking you’re doing over nothing.”
“What can I say. It’s a talent.”
Tries to turn it into a joke because what else is he gonna say. I’m just thinking about when you leave me because I know you will and I’m dreading it because this is the happiest I’ve ever been and I don’t know what I’m going to do when I’m alone again. No, he can’t say that. Because the only thing that would be worse than Dennis leaving would be him staying out of obligation. Staying because Robby would be sad, devastated, if he left. Which he would be, will be, but that isn’t the point.
“I know you’re thinking about something, tell me.”
“It’s nothing important.”
“It is. You were doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Holding me different.”
“What?”
“You, you hold me different when something’s bothering you. Like…”
“Like?”
“Like you’re scared I’m gonna leave,” says it low, so low Robby almost misses it.
And Robby tries not to tense up, tries not to give any sign that he somehow managed to hit the nail right on the head. Does his best not to let his body give away what was on his mind. Fails, spectacularly. Goes rigid, as soon as the words register. Is so sure that this is gonna be it. That the moment is here. That this is gonna be the second Dennis realizes he’s too much and not enough, and he’s gonna get up. That this is the moment that Robby, once more, will be left behind.
“Baby?”
“Hmm.”
“You know I’m not leaving, right?”
And Robby wants to say yes, of course, he knows that. Wants to say it if only to get that expression off Dennis’ face. A cross between horror and tragedy. Like he just got the most devastating news he could have ever received. Or, more accurately, like he just came to an upsetting realization. Wants to say, I know you won’t, don’t worry about it, go back to sleep. But he can’t. Because he doesn’t know it. Only knows the opposite, really. That one day Dennis is going to leave, and he’s going to have to let it happen because it’ll be what’s best for him. Not for Robby, but for Dennis.
“Robby? Tell me you know I’m not leaving.”
“Mhmm.”
Dennis huffs out a displeased sound, and then there’s a flurry of movement. He blinks and Dennis is on top of him. Perched on his hips, leaning over his chest. Another blink and his hands are caught in Dennis’, fingers interlaced and pinned to the bed next to his head. Dennis leans his weight forward, onto their joined hands. Like he wants to make sure that Robby is paying attention to him. As if he could possibly be paying attention to anything else when he has a lap full of Dennis Whitaker.
“Tell me. You know. I’m not leaving,” expression pleading.
Doesn’t say anything because he can do a lot of things, but lying to Dennis isn’t one of them. Would say, be, do anything Dennis wanted, anything he asked. But he can’t. Because he doesn’t know it. And as much as he wants to say it just to make that awful expression on his face disappear, he can’t. Because he won’t lie to him. Can’t lie to him. Won’t say words he doesn’t believe. Thinks maybe it’s better this way. Better for him to see who Robby really is now. Let him walk away before either of them get any deeper in this. As if Robby isn’t already drowning.
“Robby. Tell me you know.”
Shrugs. Better Dennis thinks he’s an asshole who won’t say it than for him to see the truth. Better to think him an asshole than to see him for what he really is. The scared little boy, waiting with a packed bag for a mother who’s never coming back. A thirty-one-year-old, clinging to his Grandmother’s hand, begging her to stay. Better he thinks a million wrong things than see Robby for what he is. Afraid. Terrified.
“Robby. Look at me.”
Only realizes his eyes have wandered when Dennis snaps at him. Forces himself to look back at him. To hold eye contact even though he doesn’t want to. Would rather do anything else, actually. Does it, though, because he knows Dennis is every bit as stubborn as he is, and if he wants him to look at him, he isn’t going to let it go until he does. So he looks back. Stares into those baby blues. Ignores the way they seem to stare right into his soul. Like they can see everything he is, every mistake he’s ever made. Like they can see just how unworthy he is to be here, Dennis in his lap.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
And he wants to argue. Wants to say, but you will, everyone does eventually, and you will too, you’ll see. But something in Dennis’ expression stops him. Because he’s seen it before. It’s the same expression he had in Pedes. The same one he wore when he pulled him to his feet. Not pity, not anger. Just understanding. An expression that says I see you. It’s as terrifying now as it was then. Doesn’t want to be seen. Doesn’t want to be found lacking. Because he will be, always has been before. How can he delay the unavoidable when Dennis is looking at him like he already sees everything he is.
“I won’t leave you,” says it with so much conviction, so much certainty.
“You will.”
Doesn’t mean to say it. Doesn’t mean to show his soft underbelly that way. But it slips out before he can stop it. Because for once, he wants to believe it. Wants to take Dennis’ word at face value. Wants to believe him when he says he won’t leave. Wants to believe that this time he gets to keep the good thing. That he won’t lose him, won’t lose this. That he’ll get to live in this moment, in all the little moments that make them what they are.
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
“I won’t.”
“You will,” argues because he needs Dennis to understand, needs him to see that this was only ever going to end one way, with Robby alone.
“I won’t. You’re stuck with me, Michael Robinavitch. Better get used to it.”
“I already am.”
And it’s too honest. Much too honest. Something he can’t believe he’s saying out loud. And maybe it’s the late hour, the darkness giving him the courage to say things he’d never say in the daylight. Or maybe it’s because Dennis still has that look on his face. The one that says I see you. A reminder that he’s already seen him at his worst and is still here. More than that, saw him at his worst before they were even together and chose him anyway. Saw him sobbing and broken on the floor, was the one to pick him up, to put him back together. Still chose him, even after seeing that.
“Good,” Dennis leans even further forward, uses his hold on Robby’s hands to keep from falling, “'Cause I’m kinda fond of you, ya know.”
“I’m fond of you, too.”
“Sap.”
“You started it.”
“Damn right I did. Now come here.”
He falls forward, brings their lips together. Kisses Robby like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing at one seventeen in the morning on a Wednesday. Kisses him like they have all the time in the world. And maybe, maybe they do. Maybe, maybe this time, he gets to keep this. Maybe this time he won’t be left behind. Won’t be left alone, wondering what he did wrong. Wondering why he wasn’t good enough. Maybe, maybe for Dennis, he is enough. Just as he is. It’s a novel concept. One that makes happiness bloom in his chest, makes him want to grab him and never let go. Not that he can, hands still pinned to the bed. Still trapped under Dennis’ weight. Not that he’s complaining. There’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Nowhere at all.
Because it’s moments like this that Robby wishes he could stay in forever.
And maybe this time he can.
“Can we go back to sleep now?” Dennis asks, pulling back just enough to speak, but still close enough that their lips brush together.
“No, not yet.”
“Why not?”
“There’s something I have to do first.”
“What?”
And Robby doesn’t answer, just flips their places, swallows the squeal Dennis makes with his lips.