Home?

Was home supposed to hurt like this? He supposed it always had, in some way or another. If there was ever a place he had to watch his own back, it was home. As he passed over Theo's threshold, he braced himself for what he knew he was too raw to face. But he had to do this. He wouldn't drag this man down with him.

He put some distance between them, opting to stand beside the fire, hands still clasped behind his back like anyone else could see him. He stumbled over what to say, but with no armor left, everything was a jumbled mess, and no one part of it was clear enough to focus on. "Theo, I'm sorry," he blurted out instead. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to. I thought you..."

He stopped and thought on what the man had told him by the window and tried again. "You said you're not him. Good. I wouldn't want you if you were. But you went and did something that was so like him that it..."

There was another pause as he wrested control of that sick anger. "You dig in like you're trying to tear my damned skin off to see me. And I say stop, and you say you will while you dig in deeper. And then you go and say a thing like that. Something — no one's ever — and I say it back, and then you leave? And then you just leave me with it? Like you got what you wanted and damn what you do to me? Don't do that. Don't be him. I can't do this again. I can't have another man just — just pull me apart and break me like this."

"You matter. I don't want to hurt you either. Come home," he signed back before moving to head back to his room. He made sure to maneuver his body just so to hide as he gave Fletcher's arm a reassuring squeeze in passing.

He kept his stride even paced when all he wanted was to bolt back to his room, dragged Fletcher into his arms, and hold on tight until they were both better. Instead he opened the door to his room calmly, stepped in and waited long enough for the other man to enter before closing and locking it.

Fletch shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Now. I'm hurting you. I don't want to be."

He nodded his head as more of a blink than a nod before signing back. "Now or later after your shift? I'm not going to force you to do this until you're ready."

In that moment he wanted nothing more than to yank Fletcher into a hug and console him. To ask what was wrong and to comfort and support this beautiful man that he loved. But, outside of the safety of their rooms they had to remain locked in place forever kept at arm's length as if they were not too men deeply in love with each other in defiance of all that was deemed right and good in the world. 

From the first words out of Theo's mouth, the wall fell, revealing anguish and fear and worry. He'd hurt Theo. He'd been mistaken and he'd genuinely hurt the man. Somewhere along the way, their accounts of the other night had diverged, and both had clearly left with a very different picture of how it had all gone down, and now they both were bleeding. He listened intently, and by the end of it, he looked close to tears.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. "That wasn't..." He stopped himself. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands and signed instead. "Not here. Could be heard. Your room."

He nodded quietly. So it wasn't excessive drunkenness. Fletcher just was intentionally behaving this way. He was in control of himself. He wanted to lash out and punish Theo. And somehow that hurt more than it being carelessness. 

Theo nodded again, looking out at the trees. He wanted to run. He couldn't physically outrun Fletcher, sure. But he could outride him. He could get down to the stable, saddle up and take off before the other man could keep up.

Why? Why was he running from the man he loved? Why was he so desperate to escape that he couldn't try once more to salvage what this was? Did Fletcher even want to? Was that what it was? That Fletcher seemed so wholly against meeting Theo in the middle or talking to him that Theo despite having finally professed those three little words wanted to just give up and bolt?

He hated himself and had to tilt his head and swallow strongly to force back another wave of tears. He couldn't run from Elijah. He could run from his father. Here was a man that treated him on most days far better than either ever had. But from this one he wanted to run. Or was it himself?

Theo turned to face Fletcher and spoke very quietly. "You're hurting me," he began. "You're punishing me and lashing out at me with coldness over something I don't know I've done. Yesterday I told you something in complete confidence that was very important to me and you shared it back. And now this.

"I'm not your father and I'm not Ven. I'm Theo and this isn't fair to me. I don't want to be fighting with you like this all the time. But, I need you to communicate with me. You yell at me that I don't listen, but you don't talk. I don't know what he was, but I'm not a mind reader. I only know what you tell me.

"You don't want to talk this out right now, that's fine. But communication needs to consistently happen at some point for both our sakes if you want this. Because I do. I very much do. But, I'm not going to endure this cycle every other night if you're not going to talk to me when there's a problem.

"I'm not trying to get you fired. I'm not trying to get you in trouble. And I'm certainly not trying to hurt you. But, this is me telling you that you're hurting me and I need it to stop. Please."

Begrudgingly, he followed the nobleman down the hall and about his day. He hadn't missed the tears. Theo had been crying in the time between when Fletch had left and when the man had reappeared. The sight only irritated him further. "Playing lost puppy now? Really?" he muttered behind Theo's back. He felt sick the moment he said it. With that invisible jab, he'd stepped over the line from self-defense to cruelty. Regardless of Theo's maturity, Fletch had to be better than this. He couldn't stoop to who he used to be. 

They stopped by a window, and Theo stared out to the horizon like a caged animal that had long ago accepted its fate. And then, without so much as a warning, he dug again. Fletcher's expression turned dark and warning as he faced the man. What a thing to hold over him right now. What a weighty thing. And if the wrong person overheard them, what a threat to his place here. "As much as needed to do my job, sir," he murmured.

The tears hit him like a great, big rogue wave. No sooner had the door shut than a soft, pained whine escaped him and the waterfalls began. He bit his lips hard to try and stifle the sound though, already too afraid of being accused of further dramatics and childish attention-seeking antics.

His heart hurt. He was absolutely overwhelmed by lack of sleep, confusion, frustration, betrayal, and heart sickness. He still didn't know what he had done, last night or more specifically in that moment to warrant this. And Fletcher wouldn't tell him. He got yelled at plenty for not believing Fletcher or listening to him. But how could he listen to a man that didn't speak to him or tell him what he needed, wanted, felt?

Theo's eyes darted about the room, desperate for something to ground or distract him. Nothing. This room that had been his sanctuary from the world was now a prison. The chair where Fletcher sat. The balcony where he smoked. The bed where he slept. The room next door that was his. The bathroom where he had bathed Theo.

He needed to leave. He wanted to run, to flee, to get as far away as possible only to make another pained sound knowing the one he wanted to run from, the one he wanted to run to was stood just on the other side of his door. There was no escape. For Theodore Archer, there never would be. 

Still, he darted into his bathroom and got cleaned up and changed. Then, it was out into the hall. His eyes slid over Fletcher, still wet with tears before he looked away and wordlessly made his way through the house. There was no clear destination, just aimless wandering the mostly unused section of the house that was his. At one point he stopped before a window opening that overlooked the small forest he and Fletcher had once fled into on their night of revelry all those months ago. It seemed like an eternity since then.

"How much have you had to drink today," he asked quietly, turning his head just enough to see if the other man would respond to him.

Not a word of it got through to him. All he saw was a man throwing a child's tantrum, and all he heard was a fight. His heels dug into the proverbial ground, and he sat there and allowed the cold silence to fall between them until it became unbearable. "Right," he said at last, and stood slowly and calmly from the chair. "I'm done. I'm not doing this. Go catch a chill on the balcony, then. Get really good and sick. Lose me my job. You want to talk? You want to fix this? You know where to find me when you're finished with this childish, attention-seeking bollocks."

With that, Fletch rounded the chair and left Theo's room to finish his shift in the hallway. He did so calmly. He didn't stomp or slam the door. He didn't betray just how much Theo had struck his heart and made him bleed.

"I'm sorry what? Bizarre stuff I pulled? I'm sorry expressing my feelings and giving you the space you wanted in the first place is so damn horrible for you. I'm not the one that intentionally silenced me and shut me down though so maybe look in the mirror before accusing me of things.

"And that's another thing. You want to talk dramatics? Who is the dramatic one: the one that was sat peacefully on their own bedroom balcony for the day, or the one that aggressively dragged them off it so violently that my bones hurt from how loud it was? You feel good about yourself now? You showed me who's the bigger man? I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment this time but I certainly didn't something so horrible as to have you treat me the way you did last night. You know better than to do that."

Theo shook his head again looking utterly betrayed and hurt. He pursed his lips and attempted to take another resetting breath. "Are you going to talk to me and tell me what this is all about or are you going to play games with me and leave me guessing until we're both too miserable to manage?"