Page 24 of For the Rest of Forever
From across the table, Allen lifted his eyes, looking up at Greg over the top of his reading glasses. His expression seemed dull, or resigned, maybe. Whatever it was, it wasn’t an expression Greg liked or was used to seeing. Greg shook his head softly.
“We don’t have to go, if you’re not up to it. I just...” He trailed off, wholly unsure—again—of what to say or do.
As he watched, Allen’s expression tightened even more. “We can go,” Allen said simply, and although he looked about ready to say something more, he didn’t. Instead, his eyes dropped to his plate, and he seemed to force his hand to move, the motion stiff and hesitant as he cut off a small bite of his omelet.
And it was painful again as Greg clearly heard the words Allen hadn’t said but was obviously thinking. About how he didn’t want Greg to change or cancel plans because of him. How he didn’t want to be a burden. Or disruptive. Or...
Greg nodded a response, although he wasn’t sure Allen saw it. Then he silently pushed back his chair, stood, and picked up his plate to move it to the dishwasher. He was aware that he needed to reassure Allen he wasn’t upset, since he knew Allen would be reading much too much into everything, including Greg’s silence. But at the same time, he couldn’t do that because he actuallywasupset.
He closed the dishwasher and rested his hands on the counter, staring blankly out the window. His mind kept replaying earlier that morning in bed, when Allen had begged him to “make it stop.” Allen had been shaking, his whole body trembling, and he’dfelt cold and clammy. Greg had done the only thing he’d known to do—hold his husband, talk to him, reassure him. And eventually, Allen’s shaking had stopped.
But thiswasdifferent than he was used to. Scarier somehow than the panic and anxiety Allen had had in the past. There was something deeper happening, something that Allen hadn’t quite told him.
“I can handle it, Greg,” Allen said quietly, and Greg felt one of Allen’s hands on his back. “I have to go. I said I would, and—”
“You don’t have to,” Greg interrupted, shaking his head. His hands gripped the counter tighter. “You don’t have to go. Someone else can handle it today. Annabeth or—or your intern, Casey, right? He can handle it. You”—Greg turned around slowly and had to resist the urge to gather Allen up in his arms and just hold him—“shouldnotbe the one handling it today. Not today, Allen. Not after this morning. I can’t... agree with you on this. I won’t stop you, because it’s your decision. But it’s—but I think it’s the wrong one.”
His chest ached as he watched Allen recoil a step, his hand dropping down to his side. Allen’s mouth had tightened into a frown, and his gray-blue eyes held Greg’s gaze but were clouded with pain. Greg’s stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard as he reached out and took Allen’s hand.
“I know you feel an obligation, and I know you want to show those boys what true kindness and compassion are. I understand that, really I do. But you’ve been struggling all week, and even before that, and you said it yourself earlier—this is bad, worse than normal. Allen... please. Please, think about this.”
Allen’s eyes had dropped, and he now stared at their hands, his face taut. Greg moved a step closer, and he watched Allen’s eyes close. The tension in the air between them was almost palpable. He shook his head gently.
“Allen—”
“I feel like I want to die.” Allen’s voice was low, and he didn’t look up at Greg, even as he stepped closer, wrapped his arms around Greg’s waist, and blew out a short breath. Greg’s stomach clenched with a nauseating uncertainty, and he automatically returned the embrace, holding his husband tightly. With a shudder, Allen buried his head against Greg’s shoulder. “I don’t really want to, I mean. I... wouldn’t ever do... that. I-I think. But the thoughts are there. And insistent. And—and that’s what was so overwhelming earlier, in bed.”
“And . . . now?”
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as Allen’s arms tightened around Greg’s waist again.
“Now it’s like... it’s still there—that feeling. And I’ve acknowledged it and told it it’s not welcome, but it didn’t leave. It’s still there.” Allen paused, and the moment seemed to stretch on and on.
Greg closed his eyes and took two measured breaths. Over thirty years together. Over thirty years, and this might be the most scared he’d ever felt for his husband. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he pressed a light kiss into Allen’s hair. He tried not to let himself think how he must have done something wrong this last week—not been supportive enough or not taken care of Allen enough or something. But deep down, he knew that wasn’t the case.
“It’s not forcing me to think it, not anymore,” Allen continued, his voice still quiet, still shaky. “But it’s still... there. And I—god, Greg, I have no intention of—of trying anything. I hope you don’t—I hope you don’t—”
Greg shook his head quickly, then he pulled back just enough while his hand reached up to cup Allen’s cheek. The familiar roughness of Allen’s neatly trimmed beard felt different somehow,and as Greg tilted Allen’s chin up and searched his eyes, there was another uncomfortable tightness in his chest. “I love you, and—and I’ll help you through this, and we’ll get through this together, as we always, always have. Okay? Okay?”
There was a desperation in his tone, and he could hear it. He was sure Allen could hear it too. In fact, hehopedAllen heard it—heard it and believed him and trusted him.
But he felt it before he saw it and before Allen spoke—that chill again. The distance between them somehow grew, even though neither of them had moved. Allen swallowed, closed his eyes, and just nodded with a quiet “okay,” mumbled through a tight jaw. That was all. And the uncertainty that hit Greg then was strong and intense and sent a fierce shiver through him.
At the same time, he felt Allen cling to him, leaning against him, and he slipped both arms low around his husband’s waist to support him. He inhaled deeply, then blinked and closed his eyes again.
“Has it ever been this bad before?” he asked quietly. He thought maybe Allen had already told him earlier, but he wanted to hear Allen’s thoughts again now—now that he was a little calmer and thinking a little more clearly.
“No.”
“Have you ever—have you ever had these types of thoughts before?”
There was a pause, and Greg felt warmth seep through his shirt as Allen let out a long breath. “Yes.”
“Allen...” He breathed his husband’s name and pulled Allen up against him more, letting his hands smooth up and down Allen’s back. “Allen, you never told me...”
“It wasn’t really like this so much,” Allen admitted, and he straightened up just slightly and lifted his eyes. Greg saw tears in them, and he shook his head weakly as Allen continued. “It wasjust a fleeting thought here or there. Really, Greg. I-I thought it was maybe something everyone thought about, from time to time...?”
“No, no, I don’t think so, darling,” Greg answered softly, and Allen blinked several times with a weak nod.
