All The Ways We Touch [BxB]

fifty-four - tears from a god pt. two

It'd been easy to see his focus through the window, and if he didn't need to be near him so badly, he'd have felt even more guilty about interrupting him, but Jamison would've told him that was what he should do in a situation like it.

Elliot walked heavily, and being on a surface that was raised off the ground, Jamison could feel his footfalls as he approached. It'd been sooner than he'd hoped, not because he didn't want his boyfriend around, but because he wanted him to have actually gotten some rest and relaxation. Unfortunately, he knew that meant he was struggling, and while Jamison had his suspicions, he didn't realize it was so bad that he couldn't handle being alone for less than half an hour. While he could wager a guess, it was difficult to know all of what was eating at him, and he was afraid to ask, worried that he could mention something that wasn't bothering him but then would be added to the pile of stressors. Beyond Elliot's perpetual worry for his safety, he figured it had to be related to the demands of his father and the guilt that he likely carried from it. In the days between the dinner and their trip, Elliot had become quieter and more antsy, always needing something to distract him when they weren't touching. Their sleep was unaffected, but Elliot held onto him tighter, and when he was the small spoon, Elliot held onto his hand, trying to keep it pressed against his stomach or chest, as if he was afraid that he might simply disappear without a firm grasp.

The stress was evident, but there was little to be done about it. If Garrison was right, Pastor Timothy would be apprehended soon—perhaps even in a matter of days—and they could finally, truly relax. Jamison would be able to feel relief for the first time in his life, no longer looking over his shoulder, finally letting go of his fear of the boogeyman. Timothy would go to prison for the rest of his life, and he would never have to worry about him ever again. The thought exhilarated him, bringing him such joy that it was difficult not to smile as he turned and looked up at Elliot, even as sad as he looked, couldn't fully cut down how good he felt when he thought of his impending freedom.

"That was quick," Jamison said, using the end of his pencil to tap the bench near him. "Join me?" That was obviously already going to happen, but he knew it'd make Elliot feel good if he encouraged him to sit instead of being passive to it.

"Of course." Sitting, Elliot laid out his notebook and notes again. At least he was no more tired than earlier, though he doubted the plateau would last very long. "How's drawing going?"

"Good," he said, sliding the sketchpad to Elliot. "I'm happy with it so far. Though I'm not confident I'm capturing the way that the twist really flows."

The twist in the trunk looked like the real thing to him, not that he was surprised, but it still left him no less impressed. "It does," he assured, sliding it back to him. "It flows beautifully, Jam. You've really got a gift for capturing motion and committing it to the page."

Accepting compliments was still somewhat foreign, but he smiled as he took it back. "Thanks, Elli, you always know how to make me feel good." While he hadn't meant it that way, he couldn't help but glance at Elliot to see how he'd take it, hoping to see his cheeks darken even redder.

"It's easy when you're dating someone so talented," he yawned, his cadence slowing.

The comment had gone right over his head, and while Jamison had been concerned about how worn out he was, it was unlike him to miss a double entendre. "Have you thought any more about taking a nap?"

"Will you please stop?!" Elliot had never snapped at Jamison before, and as soon as the words came out, he put his face in his hands. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just..." Tired, stressed, emotionally unstable—he couldn't choose which to say and instead let the thought fade away. It wasn't like Jamison didn't know he was struggling, so why try and define it?