Josh and Tyler stayed a lot longer than expected, and that's okay. Surprisingly, sitting in Tyler's lap like that was comforting more than it was nervewracking, because they had just been running their fingers up and down his spine. They didn't have to say anything, Brendon understood. He heard them loud and clear, even if they never spoke.

Maybe it's okay because Brendon missed that kind of contact. Feeling protected, feeling cared for.

It's sad to admit, but he hasn't felt cared for or loved in years. He's been alone in this world, truly. His family has broken apart; a subtle shift, but he noticed. How could he not? They're all he had.

Now, he has other people to focus on.

As he sat there embarrassingly long in Tyler's lap, Josh was running a hand through his hair. Brendon had been drained from head to toe, everything from that night eating away at whatever energy he had left.

Really, he could have fallen asleep like that.

He didn't.

As his eyes fell closed, it's then when Tyler finally spoke. "You have to be up early tomorrow, don't you." As always, it's a statement, not a question. They know, but ask to reassure. Tyler does that.

Brendon nods against them, toes curling as he leans into Josh's touch.

"Maybe we should head out soon, you need rest." They say. It's dissapointing to hear-- he really could just stay like that forever-- but Tyler's right.

It had been around ten when they left.

Josh held him tight, and Tyler squeezed his hand as a departure.

Ultimately, Brendon just wanted to go right to bed and sleep away any worries that may arise as soon as the two of them stepped out the door, but he couldn't. He had to put the leftovers away and clean the water bottles and cards from the coffee table.

He's not sure how long he'll be able to keep his apartment tidy. He'd like to say always, but that's not the truth.

Brendon cleans the kitchen to the best of his ability before heading to bed. As soon as he's about to lay down, though, his phone goes off.

It's a text message.

He furrows his brows, but nonetheless checks his phone. It's from Josh, an audio message. He clicks on the notification with a bit of hesitance; maybe this is going to be him ending their relationship, maybe he and Tyler couldn't do it in person because they felt too much pity for him, so this is how it goes. He knew he should've kept everything to himself. He has too many problems, why would they want to deal with them?

Brendon sighs. Still, he clicks on it, heart thumping irritably in his ears.

"Just wanted to say goodnight. Well, mostly Tyler. They said it might help you calm down to hear our voices, just in case you might be worrying. I know it was a lot tonight, but you can trust us with this. Promise. I'm really glad we talked about it."

Brendon eyes are blown.

Tyler was definitely right about this reassuring him. A smile is slowly creeping into his face.

"Baby, say goodnight."

There's some shuffling, and some mumbles he couldn't exactly hear. Then, there's Tyler.

"Goodnight, Brendon. Sleep well."

He'll sleep well with no doubt tonight, now. Knowing that they were thinking about his wellbeing before going to bed themselves makes his heart swell more than ever. He really does feel safe. Tyler and Josh make him feel safe.

It's Josh's voice again when he says, "I hope everything goes well at your mom's this weekend. You can text us any time." Brendon has to close his eyes to soak it all up. He's living in his reality, but maybe that isn't such a bad thing as long as he has the two of them at his side. "Goodnight."

The audio message ends then, and so does the majority of Brendon's anxiety for the night.

His fingers move along the keyboard, heart full, exhaustion high.

Goodnight. Thank you. Really.

He slides his jeans off afterwards and crawls into bed in just his shirt and boxers, putting his phone on the charger.

There's no denying he sleeps well, how could he not? Tyler and Josh's voices play like a lullaby in the back of his head, and it's more than he could ever ask for. It's all he'll ever need.

Yeah, this is definitely something he could get used to.

***

Packing his bag in the morning was daunting on its own, but by the time he stepped foot in the retirement home, those nerves turned into a churning stomach, trembling hands, and even a headache. He wasn't sure if today he'd tell Carina the entirety of it all, yet he still finds himself extremely anxious at just the mere thought of it.

He didn't know whether he'd be ready to tackle on everything thrown his way. All the questions she'd have, all the concerns, all the repugnance even, maybe?

Brendon knew she could either take this with an open mind, or she wouldn't take it at all.

Would she find him disgusting?

Would she say something horrible about Josh or Tyler?

Would she tell him that Tyler's situation is loathsome?

He could handle negative things being said about himself, but if it comes to either Tyler or Josh, that would upset him to no belief. They don't deserve any hate when all they give is love.

His mind runs.

Brendon sighs, walking up the stairs to his mother's room. He'll stall until he couldn't anymore, he always does.

Truly, he knows the last thing Carina would do is treat him like he's an abomination, or whatever it might be. She has too much kindness in her heart to ever feel such a way, and still he worries about it.

It's such a big thing to tell someone.

It's such a big thing in general.

Brendon has yet to fully grasp the entire situation. He doesn't know what their kind of relationship is called, and he's not so sure Tyler and Josh do, either. Are they, what? A thruple? That sounds odd, but he's heard of it.

Technically, they aren't in a relationship yet. They're working towards that. They're working towards understanding one another and coming to terms with each of their realities.

They're not a thruple, but soon, they might just be.

Brendon's chest isn't very light when he opens the door, the smell of cinnamon spice makes it worse. He lays his packed bag down onto the couch and slowly opens the door to his mother's bedroom, seeing her sleeping frame. She has pictures, art, and crafts of and from her grandkids on the walls, even though she definitely doesn't remember any of them. The worst part is she'll pretend she does any time they do visit, which isn't often, at all.

There's school photos of his brother Mason's son Mitchell above her bed, and beside that is a drawing Kevin did when he was younger.

Brendon doesn't understand why they're there if they mean anything to Grace.

He has to shrug it off.

"Mom?" He finally says, sitting next to her in bed.

She stirs in her sleep a bit, eyes opening after a moment. He purses his lip into as much of a smile as he could give right now.

"Breakfast is gonna be served soon. You hungry?" Brendon sure isn't.

The thought of just being around Carina scares him. She will obviously tell something is wrong; she can read him like the back of her hand, definitely more than Brendon can read himself. He knows he isn't ready, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be.

Truthfully, if he holds off any longer, he'll never have the audacity to confess.

"Really hungry," Grace mumbles tiredly, sitting up.

"Let's get ready and head downstairs." The last thing he wanted is to go downstairs. Around everyone. Around the eyes. Around Carina.

Brendon tries his hardest to swallow the lump in his throat, helping his mother out of bed and into the bathroom. It's a script; he knows every inch of this apartment by now. He helps her use the toilet and brush her teeth, and luckily today, she feels able enough to change out of her pajamas by herself.

After an unusually long amount of time spent in her room, Grace comes back into the living room where Brendon's sat. She's in an obnoxious pair of purple sweat pants and a floral top. He doesn't comment on it, knowing no one in the homes would pay much mind to the odd choice. If anything, this was a fashion statement.

"Ready?" Brendon asks.

Grace's eyebrows furrow. "For what?"

Maybe it stops hurting after a while; he's passive as she speaks.

"We're heading downstairs for breakfast, c'mon." He grabs her hand steadily and leads her out the room, making sure to lock the door behind them.

Grace might be assuming he's holding her hand to guide her, but really he's holding it for reassurance. She may not understand, or ever will, but his mother's hand will always hold as much comfort as it possibly can. He squeezes once, twice, a few times. Heart beating loudly, knees trembling silently.

He's absolutely terrified.

"Mom?" Brendon whispers as they make their way down the stairs, he can see Carina from here.

"Yes?"

He huffs, blinking to keep himself aware. "I love you so much." Is all he says.

He's hoping to hear it back. It's all he needs right now.

Solace, please, just give him solace. As he nears their designated seating area, he feels like he could just trip over his own feet, or that maybe the void in his heart and mind could swallow him whole and hide him from the disaster happening internally, and soon, probably externally as well.

Grace squeezes his hand this time. "I love you too." She doesn't address him, she doesn't love Brendon, or her son, but she does. It's as much as she could give.

It's as much as he'll receive. This is fine.

They make it to the table, and instantly, Carina is up out of her seat giving Brendon such a tight hug he loses even more of his breath.

"Bren!" She murmurs into his ear, arms around his shoulders.

His hand trembles until it meets her waist. He holds her as close as he could, for as long as he could, because his mind is getting the best of him, telling him this might really be it. This might really be the last time he'd get to have Carina so close, and so excited to see him. He'd tell her every secret he'd been hiding, and she'd want nothing to do with him again, because she doesn't agree, or maybe she'd be mad that he lied to her this whole time.

It's for himself, to protect himself. Selfish, he is. He's sure of it.

He doesn't deserve Carina; this could benefit her. Possibly, set him free.

"Carina," Brendon utters. For no particular reason besides assuring himself she's still here for now.

Much to his disappointment, she pulls away. He hadn't noticed until now the change in her appearance, once bright blue hair-- that had faded over time-- now a delicate shade of pink. It suits her well, it always does.

His eyes widen a bit. A nervous, but pleased smile falling on his face.

He'll stall, he'll stall. "Your hair."

She gasps a bit, running her fingers through it with a big grin. "Yes! Do you like it?"

Brendon nods enthusically. He likes it, yes, but more so because he's frantic in every way. "It looks super nice, Carina."

Her cheeks match her hair. "Thank you."

They end up sitting down soon after, everyone falling into a steady conversation, but not Brendon. He couldn't bare to speak up right now unless he absolutely had to. He could already sense how much his voice would waver, or crack because of how unbelievably overcome he is with uneasiness.

Underneath the table, he pulls at the skin of his knuckles, pinching them too when it's not enough. He couldn't, wouldn't, let Carina see.

He watches her, he watches everyone.

"What's for breakfast today?" Carina's mother asks.

Thankfully, he doesn't need to move. Carina looks instead, eyes scanning over the small paper they call a menu here.

"Oatmeal, an omelet, or eggs and bacon." She announces.

Brendon looks over to his mother, deciding what she might want without asking. His leg bounces.

"Oatmeal sounds delicious," Grace mutters, picking at a loose thread on her shirt. Maybe the world is just working out in his favor today; he can stay quiet for as long as he'd like, build himself up to his confession. Because, if the world really is doing things in his favor, maybe Carina would take the news lightly.

That's all he could hope for.

All Brendon ever does anymore is hope for something better.

"Brendon, are you okay?" Carina whispers when she sees his leg moving up and down in an agitated manner. Of course he couldn't hide for long.

He shrugs, swallowing. "Yeah. I'm. . . I-I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She's frowning a bit.

Brendon nods, small. "Yeah."

He tries to stop bouncing his leg, but it's no use. In less than two minutes he's bouncing it once again. Up and down, up and down.

For a while, it goes like that. Brendon finds any little thing to fidget with, like the silverware in front of him, or the tablecloth tickling his knees. He even finds himself biting the inside of his cheek and his bottom lip roughly-- more than roughly. He winces the majority of the time, but also, in a way, it's calming him down.

He knows how much easier this would be if he just took one of his CBD pills, or smoked a little before coming downstairs. He didn't, though, and he won't. This is something he needs to do sober. He needs to be fully concious, and so what if he has to witness himself get overthrown by his anxiety. It's not new for him, it never will be.

This is part of the experience. The nerves. Everything he feels is a part of the experience. He shouldn't find ways to reduce his worries just because it might be able to help him out in the long run.

Brendon's going to do this. Just Brendon.

He eats very little of his food; he seems to do that a lot when he's overcome with uneasiness. He takes a few bites of his eggs, maybe one or two of the bacon, and pushes it all together until it's a mess on his plate. His fork trembles along with his had, they're in sync for the worst reason.

Brendon has to guide the spoon into his mother's mouth a few times before she can wrap her crippling mind around it.

Soon enough, he watches everyone enjoy their meal while he sits in a pool of fear.

He flinches when tasting the blood in his mouth, his teeth are being relentless. His lip is punctured, just like every ounce of self-confidence he may have had.

Carina notices, she always does.

She doesn't say anything, only holding the back of his neck and pressing a napkin to his lip. He didn't know how, but he ends up leaning against her shoulder. Yes, he's in pain from biting himself so hard, but he is mostly needing that moral support out of the pure agony he's indulged with anything yet to happen. He's a machine made for the sole purpose of never being enough, and breaks down at every realization.

Carina runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

She knows.

How could she not.

Brendon, really, could have just started crying then and there.

He doesn't.

Instead, he closes his eyes and listens to his heart for an answer. It beats so loud there's no way he'd be able to miss it. "I'm scared." He says.

She was the only person who could soothe him, and still, he feels almost distant in her touch. He knows why, and she doesn't.

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm here for you. Always." Carina pulls the napkin away from his lip which has become chapped by that time. Brendon says nothing, so she continues. "Does it have anything to do with what you were telling me a few weeks ago?"

Then, his brows furrow. What had he told her?

She seems to understand just by his reaction.

"You said you had a lot to tell me. And, you said you weren't ready yet." She explains, folding the napkin and placing it on his lip again. "If. . . If it is that, don't push yourself to tell me unless you're completely comfortable, okay? You take your time with this, Bren."

Truth be told, he'll never be completely comfortable.

Brendon pulls her hand away in order for his speach not to be slurred. "Carina, you already know if I don't say it soon, I'll never say it. . ."

He stalls until he doesn't anymore; he'd keep it tucked away forever if he really could.

She nods though, eyes warm, like Josh's. Now, like Tyler's, almost. It's strange how much things are shifting.

"Then, are you going to tell me?" This could be demanding, but it's not. Her voice is sweet like ropes of licorice, he would eat it up forever if he could. Carina is only asking, for clarity, and reassurance on Brendon's part.

Brendon inhales and exhales, Adam's apple bobbing. He needs this. He needs truth in his life.

"Just. . . Just. . . Not here? Please, god. Please." He shakes his head. "Can we, uh, maybe. . . maybe go to the gameroom or something and, um, talk there? There's just too many people here." Grace and her friend-- everyone has finished eating now. It'd be okay.

Carina smiles lightly. "We can do that."

Soon, much to Brendon's demise, they make their way upstairs. All four of them. Grace wasn't very happy with the thought of spending time in a place other than her room for a while, and Brendon has to tell her it won't be long, although he has no clue himself.

They set their mothers up for chess, and he knows his mom might not remember how to play today, but he also knows her friend would just go along with it for the sake of not caring enough.

Everything would be fine, right?

Brendon isn't sure. He never is.

He and Carina sit down on the tacky sofa a bit aways, no one is around. This is as good as it would get.

They just sit there for a while, Carina allowing him to collect himself, Carina allowing him to wrap his mind around the fact that this is really happening, although she has no idea what it even is. Brendon pulls a knee to his chest and shamelessly bites at his skin through his jeans, rubbing his forehead against his saliva-coated pants in distress.

"Fuck." He grumbles. Fuck.

Carina only pulls out a pack of gum from her back pocket, she chews gum a lot. She hands him one knowingly. She hands him one knowing he might be able to chew away his worries. The toughness against his teeth, instead of his lip or cheek.

Brendon chews it adamantly, arms wrapped around himself.

"You ready?" She asks.

He has to close his eyes for the next exhale. "I don't even know where to start."

It's then when his phone vibrates, and there's only two possible people it could be. Of course, is all he thinks. Of course.

It's Josh.

I'm super busy today, sorry if I miss anything. Tyler's home editing though, you can text them if you want.

Brendon swallows, sighing. He doesn't reply, he can't find it in himself to do that right now. He can't find it in himself to speak at all, really. Carina is just looking, waiting, reminding him of what Tyler always does.

He thinks of Tyler, and he thinks of his lack of words. So, he presses the gallery icon on his phone and goes to the first picture he'd ever seen of the two of them together, the one on Josh's Tinder profile. Nose tucked into Tyler's neck, an arm around them. Yeah. That one.

Brendon's hands tremble in despair, as a warning, he supposed. Should he really be doing this?

The answer is obvious.

He slowly hands Carina his phone, getting to watch the confusion on her face before putting pieces together, or something like that.

Brendon has to look away, he bounces his other leg and dips his head back. He couldn't believe this is happening. The palms of his hands sweat, the pang in his chest is strong.

It takes a moment, but Carina finally mumbles out a, "Did things not work out with Josh?"

This comes as a surprise to him. Did she really not understand? Maybe it's not as clear as he thought, which is more than nervewracking because now he's going to have to explain more than he wanted to, but he guessed that's the point. He needed to explain.

Brendon shakes his head. That isn't the case at all. "No, that's. . . That's his, um,"

He has to pause. Bile is rising to his throat the longer he sits and the longer he speaks.

He loses himself.

"That's his husband."

The word itself makes his stomach churn so undelightfully he could definitely use a release right now. He's choking down his own vomit, his own nausea. His head spins.

Carina eyes widen so big, it terrifies him. "His husband?"

Now, the tears threaten him. His jaw clenches in hopes to keep it in. "Yeah. Tyler."

Carina has to set his phone down in order to process the minimal information. It's understandable.

Brendon presses his hand against his mouth, trying to keep himself steady from anything that might escape. He can't even remember the last time his stomach churned this horribly, or head span this bad. He needs to choke down all signs of disgust right now, he needs to do this.

"Are you. . . Is he having an affair?" She whispers, glancing over to Brendon with this certain look he's never before seen from her.

He shakes his head. Repeatedly.

She takes it in, and accepts it. She's having to believe him because he has all the answers. She waits for more. She doesn't understand.

Brendon's blinking, over and over and over, he can't let himself fall so quickly. He wants to cry, but he cries too much. He's weak, and needs to be strong right now.

It's hard.

"Tyler knows. Tyler. . . Tyler's a part of it." He mumbles, chest caving. "Carina, I'm a part of it." He tells her, hastily meeting eyes with one another.

The thought even scares him, and it's his own story.

Carina stays quiet, nodding to herself and closing her eyes to think thoroughly about the entire situation. He doesn't blame her, he needs to do the same thing. He can't help but imagine how much easier this might of been to actually have Josh and Tyler help him out with this, but he knows what he doing right now is for the best. Raw, alone.

"Does his husband-- Tyler, how does he feel about all of this? Did you know from the start he was going be in the relationship, too?" Brendon hasn't realized until now how uncomfortable he would get with someone using the wrong pronouns for them. Here he is, nearly shrinking in repulse.

He can't even imagine what it's like for Tyler.

"Uh, yeah. About that, they don't go by. . . That." He's bad with words. He's aware.

Carina's brows pull together. He can't comprehend how much this must be to take on. He appreciates her sticking along, still. "What does that mean?"

Brendon shrugs. He doesn't want to have to explain, because he still doesn't fully understand, which is probably embarrassing considering how important Tyler is to him. It's just very personal, and he's not sure if he would be able to ask certain questions he'd always been wondering.

"Tyler is, uh," He gulps, running a hand through his hair and pulling at it harshly. "They're non-binary."

"Non-binary?" She repeats. "What's that?"

Brendon shrugs, again. It's a natural reaction. "They don't go by male pronouns, like, you know, he and him. . .  they go by, well, they/them."

Carina's eyes shift. "Oh?" It isn't vicious, just confused, and that's okay.

Brendon looks down at his lap. "Do you. . . Do you get it? I kinda didn't at first, uh, but the two of them helped me." He's scratching at his thighs through his jeans, scared. Terrified. Always.

"I mean, I think? I've just never heard of that before." She mutters.

Brendon nods. "Instead of saying he, we say they. So, like, um, they really like to cook. And they love to write, they've even written about me." His shoulders lift as he speaks, still, not making eye contact with Carina. He's not sure if he can.

"Okay," She murmurs. "I just-- why did you say husband, then. Isn't that like. . . Wait." She has to pause, gears shifting in her brain. "What does being non-binary even mean?"

If only he knew himself.

"Josh said something about. . . Them feeling like they don't conform to either gender, so they're just, uh, in the middle. Something like that." He's now realizing he really needs to have a thorough conversation about Tyler, with Tyler. This isn't good.

"So. . . They. . . Don't have a gender?" Brendon's glad she's trying.

He chews the gum faster. "Yeah, I guess so."

They're both quiet, but after a moment, she breaks the silence.

"I can understand. I'll try to. I promise." Carina says, and Brendon finally looks up at her.

"Really? About. . . About everything?" He's hopeful.

She nods. "I meant about, about them. But yeah, everything. Why wouldn't I?" She touches his hand, slowly lacing their fingers together inch by inch. "You're my friend, Brendon. If this is important to you, then it's important to me."

Now, he cries. Lip pushed out pathetically and eyes squinting roughly, he whimpers and falls to her shoulder. "Thank you." He whispers, hoarse. "Thank you." Again and again. He's never been more appreciative. To her. To the universe. He wouldn't be losing her, and that's all he could ask for.

Carina runs her fingers through his hair, holding him protectively. "Of course." She vows. "Just. . . You have a lot to tell me. I still don't really understand everything."

Brendon nods hastily against her chest, he knows.

"They take care of you, right?" She questions after a moment, he cries. "Both of them, I mean."

Brendon can't help but smile through his tears. "Yeah, they do."

Carina pulls his face from out of her chest, hands resting at his wet cheeks. They're staring at one another, and she soaks it all up. "That's all that matters."

And she's right. What mattered most is if he's happy, and there's no doubt in his mind that he is. He doesn't have to question it, because at just the mere thought of Tyler or Josh, he catches himself with a blush like no other. He couldn't believe the amount of safety they've been offering him, because to him, what has he done to deserve it? He has three of the greatest people in his life, he'd say. Easily.

Carina, Josh, and Tyler are all he needed. And, he has them.

He has them.

He'll have to apologize to his mother later, because he and Carina spend nearly two hours in the gameroom talking. He tells her everything, everything, and she listens. But, the best part about it this time, is that there's nothing left to hide. She's seen the confusion, the heartache, the affection. Every emotion. Still, she isn't disgusted, she's smiling, happy, for Brendon. This is what he needed, in more ways than one.

He knew it would feel good to talk about Tyler, but he didn't know it would feel this good. He's crying, he's smiling, he's laughing. At the little things. At their style, and their stone face. At their smile, and their cooking.

Tyler's beautiful, he knows. Head to toe, mind to heart, he'd say.

He tells her how provocative the two of them are, but he also tells her it might just be okay. He needs to ease into it, and he'd say having Josh and Tyler with him are his best bet.

Ultimately, Brendon will be okay. More than okay.

Carina still holds his hand, and so will Tyler and Josh. What more could he ask for?