fly | madderton

THIRTEEN

Days had passed.

Taron had woken up that morning cold and alone in a bed too big for one. He waited there until he was certain Richard had left for work, before getting up and going about getting ready to face the day. Finally, a day off of the interviews.

Not a day off from his fellow interviewee, however.

Taron had somehow wound up sat in Colin's ridiculously pristine living room, nursing a mug of tea whilst he gushed about his relationship. He'd been unsure how much to say, to begin with. It felt deceptive to say the words out loud. Unfaithful, almost. Even though he was pretty sure Colin was sharp enough to have figured it out without needing verbal confirmation.

The floodgates opened as soon as he did finally spill. Finally telling someone about it felt so relieving, and Taron couldn't stop himself from delving deeper and deeper into their relationship, eager for advice on the awful situation he'd landed himself in.

"I want to fix it, I really do. I love him with my whole heart... I just don't know how to do it. He shuts me down every time I try. Says he's tired, not hungry, he's got work stuff to do.." Taron shrugged, setting his mug back on its coaster to rub his eyes, hard enough to still see his knuckle imprints when he opened them again.

"I don't think there's much you can do, other than speak to him.. You'll just have to make him listen, somehow."

Taron nodded, glancing over at whatever daytime chat show was quietly rattling on in the background. "Thanks, Colin. You're the best. I'll figure something out."

———

Taron was busy setting up the living room when he heard the front door open, and a set of keys clatter onto the side table. He tossed the blanket that he was holding over the sofa in a hurry, before making his way closer to his husband.

"Go get changed, babe. Get your PJs on."

"T, I'm-"

"'T, I'm tired,' Yeah, I know, babe. Just trust me, okay? Get comfy, and come meet me on the sofa. Give me five minutes?"

With a nod of his head and a heavy sigh, Richard headed off to his room. Taron wandered back over to the sofa, turning the volume of the TV down until it just loud enough to fill the empty spaces, without being distracting. His big plan was to have a cuddle and some hot drinks on the sofa, and hopefully have a chat about what had been going on. It wasn't the most intricate plan he'd ever come up with, but he was praying it would work.

Failing that, his plan B was to offer Richard a happy ending, but he wasn't too sure how well that would go down straight out of the blue.

Satisfied that the couch looked the comfiest it had ever looked, Taron made his way to the kitchen to make them both a hot chocolate (with a mountain of whipped cream, marshmallows and hot chocolate powder dusted on top, duh) and finish getting their snacks ready. He knew Richard would refuse a meal, claiming he 'wasn't hungry', but he might have a handful of Doritos, or some of the toffee and honeycomb ice cream Taron had ready in the freezer.

When Richard finally reappeared, their snacks and drinks were all ready and waiting for them on the coffee table, with Taron waiting for his husband on the sofa.

"Come on, sit." Taron patted the space beside him, pulling the soft blanket around his legs. Richard nodded and sat down on the couch, taking a moment to get comfy before dropping the most heart-shattering statement.

"Is this going to take long?"

Taron felt his heart sink, shrugging a little as his gaze wandered around the room. He wanted to understand that Richard was hurting, but he also desperately wanted to understand why that meant Richard had to hurt him.

And there was that pang of guilt, that Taron was always so self-absorbed to turn situations around to make him out as the poor, broken victim.

"If.." Taron sighed, his eyes flitting across Richard's face as if he was desperately looking for a sign. "We need to talk, baby.. About what's actually up. I don't care what you say, there isn't substantial enough food at work for you to never be hungry here. And you're always too tired even just to sit with me and watch TV?" Taron quirked an eyebrow, his tone soft enough not to sound accusatory. He hoped, at least.

"It's just work, love. You know how it is. I've been doing really long days since I started, it's been non-stop."

"It's not just the long days, though, is it? Come on, in sickness and in health, and all that? You can talk to me, baby.." Taron moved his foot to gently nudge Richard's leg, worry evident on his face. He was starting to realise this maybe wasn't going to be quite as easy, and Richard wasn't going to be broken down with such a simple phrase that he'd seemingly heard a million times in the last week or so. "Please talk to me? It's the show, isn't it? The character? C'mon, Rich.. Give me something."

The tension in the room felt thick enough to be cut with a knife. The silence that hung in the air was suffocating, and lasted moments too long.

"I'm sorry, T.. It's just, fuck. I don't even feel like Richard anymore."

Taron frowned, carefully watching his husband's face for any indication of where this was going. For a second he wondered if he'd read the situation entirely wrong.

"You... Don't?"

"I feel like David. All of the time, and it's- it's.. I hate it."

"You.. You've gone method?" Taron asked softly, after a brief pause. He was glad to be finally getting words out of Richard, but was worried that whatever would come out of his own mouth next would ruin the moment. Method would make sense. Troubled, quiet, reluctant to get help. All added up.

Richard shook his head, lifting his worn hands to rub at his face. "No.. I want to get out, but I can't. It's like I come home with a hangover every day, and I'm stuck in this never ending hellscape of David Budd's mind. It won't end... I'm so sorry."

Taron frowned again, shuffling a little closer to take Richard's hand. It was cold in his own, almost feeling foreign. "Why? You've got nothing to be sorry for..."

"I have. I've sucked at being your husband.. But, I didn't mean it, I didn't- I don't want to-" Richard's voice wobbled, and his grip on Taron's hand tightened. Taron shot forward, not giving a chance for the first tear to fall before he was practically in Richard's lap, his arms wrapped tight around his husband.

"Shh, don't say that.." Taron whispered, pushing his face into Richard's hair. "You haven't sucked, just 'cause you've been struggling. We can work through this, baby... You just need to be open with me, yeah?"

Richard nodded, not trusting his voice to not betray him again. He didn't want to be so weak.

Taron seemed to sense Richard's new reluctance to speak, for he pressed a soft kiss to the mess of hair atop Richard's head, before leaning his own head to the side to gently push his fingers through the tousled locks.

"I love you, Dicky.. We'll get through this. How about you pick something out on Netflix, and I'll get us some ice cream?"

Richard nodded again, his face wet against Taron's shoulder.

That night was miles from being the best night's sleep he'd ever had, but Richard certainly slept a lot easier with the reassuring weight of his husband in his arms.

good evening, how does daily updates this week sound?????

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