You are my safe home...

[thebloodyglue]

Eventually, though. Eventually, he does find his way home. He's shivering cold, his hands numb, his boots soaked through from traipsing through the snow. There were, he thinks, tear earlier, but they're all spent now. All he can feel is numb, ice contained in skin. He slumps on the sofa in the lounge, without taking off his coat or boots. The cats crawl all over him.

He doesn't move.

Comments

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky found the note earlier, sent Newt a text, and waited. When he heard the truck rumble back home, he hauled himself out of the office and into the kitchen, putting the kettle on to warm up the water.

He came out to the living room and pressed a kiss to Newt's head. "You wanna take off all that cold shit and stay a while?"

[thebloodyglue]

Without a word, Newt curls in closer, his head against Kavinsky's shoulder. He looks down at his hands, curled in his lap, and there are the tears again, just one, rolling down the side of his nose.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky climbed over the back of the sofa and curled around Newt, bundling him close despite the frigid jacket and scarf and hat. Gently, he started to pluck off the outerwear.

[thebloodyglue]

Newt acquiesces, lets Kavinsky undress him down to his sweater and jeans, his sock feet. He lets out a damp sort of sigh and leans forward, pressing himself into the curve of his husband's body, looking for comfort.

[mitsubishievo]

Once Kavinsky had him out of the worst of it, he was much easier going about holding him close. They had a minute or two more before the water would be hot. He wasn't too worried about it. He wrapped his arms around Newt and kissed his forehead gently.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

[thebloodyglue]

Newt shakes his head then nods and, in the end, makes a soft sound of frustration, pushing his face into the hollow of Kavinsky's throat.

"I don't shucking know," he growls.

[mitsubishievo]

"Hey, that's okay," he said. He rubbed his fingers gently up and down Newt's spine, up into his hair. "That's okay. I'm here. And you don't need to talk if you can't right now, or don't want to."

[thebloodyglue]

A sob goes through him and he buries his face harder against Kavinskyk, like the other boy is safety, somehow, like he can climb inside him and be safe.

"How long until it's you?" he asks, miserably.

[mitsubishievo]

"It won't be," Kavinsky said. He couldn't promise that, he knew that. Not really. But he wanted to, and he meant it, and he'd fight this place, tooth and nail, to stay. To keep this--this boy and this house and this life that was his. "You're stuck with me. I'm not going anywhere, and you just have to live with that for the rest of your life."

[thebloodyglue]

"You can't say that," says Newt, his hand curling into a fist, pressing against Kavinsky's chest, his wedding ring pushing into his finger. "You can't shucking promise me anything like that, shank."

[mitsubishievo]

"It's too late, I said it," Kavinsky said. He pushed his fingers through Newt's hair and held on to him, though he didn't make him look up. He couldn't, not quite yet. "And you know. You know, you can't go either. You can't. So you're not going to. We're stuck. You and me, through the thick of it. We're not going anywhere."

[thebloodyglue]

"Haven't got anything to go back to," mumbles Newt, knowing that Kavinsky hasn't either, that this is borrowed time for both of them. "At least Tommy feels he's going to save the shucking world."

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky pressed a kiss to Newt's forehead, down to his cheeks. He pressed their foreheads together gently, wrapped his arms around him leisurely as the cats finally settled comfortably on top of them.

"I know it's rough. I know. But we've got each other."

[thebloodyglue]

"Sometimes, it doesn't feel like enough," admits Newt, a tear rolling down the side of his face. "Just...sometimes, shank. I'm so shucking scared."

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinksy nodded a little bit, let the words chew at him for a second, and then put them away. Loss was an awful thing to deal with, especially something like this. This was different than losing anybody else, and Kavinsky couldn't really understand it, because he didn't have anyone here who was quite like what Thomas had been to Newt.

In the kitchen, the kettle started to whistle. "You wanna stay here while I make the tea?"

[thebloodyglue]

Newt shakes his head, his fingers fisting in Kavinsky's sweater. It's one of Al's, he thinks.

"Wherever you're going, I'm going." His voice sounds sullen. Petulant. He doesn't even care.

[mitsubishievo]

Kavinsky tangled their fingers together, lifted his hand and kissed across his knuckles slowly. He pulled Newt gently from the couch as he stood, unfurling them and displacing the cats so they could head into the kitchen.

He set the water in the teapot, and tea in to brew. Then he pulled Newt close, swaying gently, humming under his breath. "Should I make lunch? You're finally warming up."

[thebloodyglue]

There is, he thinks, a comfort in being moved around the house like that. If he can't move himself, he can at least trust Kavinsky to keep him going. "I don't want anything," he says, staying tucked against Kavinsky's chest, grateful that his husband is that little bit taller. "M'not hungry."

[mitsubishievo]

"Okay," Kavinsky said. He might start dinner, once Newt had his tea, just so they had it for later. It would be good to make sure that Newt ate. He knew how they both got, and he didn't want Newt to close in on himself.

For now, though, he swayed with him, hummed, made sure they kept moving. It was good. It was what he could do.

[thebloodyglue]

There's something very comforting about proximity, about standing there leaned against Kavinsky's chest while he makes the tea. He presses the tip of his nose against the warm hollow of Kavinsky's throat and breathes in the comforting, familiar scent of him.

[mitsubishievo]

"It's gonna be...okay." The words felt a little bit hollow. It was the best that Kavinsky could offer, okay. He pressed his nose into Newt's hair and breathed him in gently.

"And we'll drink tea, and curl up on the couch, and be under covers for as long as we need."

[thebloodyglue]

"I want to be so shucking angry with him," he says, quietly, his nose still pressed into Kavinsky's sweater. "But...I can't...I can't find it. The anger, I mean. It's not shucking there."

[mitsubishievo]

"You don't need to be," Kavinsky said. He thought he could be, if Newt needed him to be, but he didn't think that Newt needed that either. Kavinsky didn't think he'd been mad at anyone that had disappeared--not Beca, or Molly, or Jillie or Dee. Connor and Lee had both been strange reliefs, in different ways. Al had been a festering anguish that still cropped up now and again. But he'd never been mad at anyone.

He shuffled them, gently, toward the counter and managed to pour Newt a cup of tea without dislodging him from where he was tucked in.

"Maybe you will be, from time to time. But you don't need to be. You can miss him like we miss Al."