Brendon doesn't remember the exact time he fell asleep the night before, but he knows for a fact Tyler had fallen asleep after him. So, when he wakes up, it's a bit surprising to see Tyler had already been awake as well, and it seemed like they have been for a while, too.

He isn't so bothered by that. Instead, what instantly gets his cheeks flushed is how he woke up.

The two of them managed to end up even closer than they were before. Brendon's cheek is pressed to their pec, and, embarrassingly enough, his whole leg is rested on top of theirs while his arms are loose around them. He doesn't move for a moment, he only opens his eyes and examines the situation.

Brendon hadn't realized until now how clingy he really is.

He knows Tyler's awake though because, still, they're playing with his hair distractedly. He wonders whether it was a good decision to expose to them he likes his hair being touched because, ever since, they haven't stopped playing with it.

No. It's definitely a good thing.

After a few minutes of laying there trying to process what to do, he slowly lifts his head a bit and turns to look at Tyler. It's not until then either when he realizes he's drooled, right on their chest and all over his cheek.

If he wasn't blushing before, he definitely is now.

Tyler connects eyes with him, and sheepishly, he wipes it away the back of his hand in shame. They only observe his morning face and brush his hair back.

"I didn't take you for a drooler." They mutter.

Insecurities come quickly at that statement, and Brendon has to defend. A natural riddled response he has built for himself. "I'm-- I'm not." He knows the only reason he did drool is because he got stoned. Truthfully. He wouldn't have otherwise.

Tyler just shakes their head, looking back to the television.

Brendon sighs in response, adamantly falling back onto their chest.

It's only quiet between them for so long, because a subtle worry gets the best of him. Or maybe he wanted to get his mind off the fact that he had drooled on Tyler's chest. Either way, he asks, "Did you sleep okay?"

Easily, Tyler nods. "You kept me warm." They say.

Brendon may just be not-fully-conscious, but instead of letting this pass, he says something very blatant. "You could've put pants on. That. . . That would of kept you warm, too."

He hesitantly glances up at Tyler and is able to watch a smirk grow onto their face. Then, they chuckle, shaking their head once again.

"What?" Brendon wonders.

They bite their lip, closing their eyes momentarily. "You don't even know."

He frowns. "By that you mean,"

Tyler looks down at him, blinking a few times; pondering their answer.

They hum. "In the simplest terms, this is probably the most I've worn to bed in a long time."

Brendon takes it all in and gulps. "Oh." That, really, can only mean one thing, and Brendon understands. He carefully pulls his leg off of theirs and tries not to ponder too hard on all of it, but all he can think is well, what were they wearing the night I spent the night? Yet, it feels dumb to wonder so, because now he has the answer.

He supposed it was nothing. Literally.

Once again, Brendon wants to change the subject. "Have you been up for a while?"

Tyler shrugs. "Yeah. I just haven't moved because you were asleep."

Brendon nods, carefully pulling his arms away from around them as he sits up. "And I really don't think you could have with how. . . Wrapped I was around you." He fiddles with his fingers nervously. "Sorry."

Tyler's quick to shake their head, sitting up with him. "It's okay. I like it."

Brendon's cheeks are in the perpetual state of pink, it seems. He finds himself observing Tyler this way; knees bent and legs open, hand in their hair, and eyes glancing over to their phone in thought. He would look at them forever if he could, because there's something so captivating about Tyler.

For now, there's no time. "I'm gonna go check on my mom." He says, standing up from the air mattress.

Tyler nods in response, taking this as their chance to do whatever they had wanted to before Brendon woke up while he walks into his mother's room as quietly as he could. He closes the door behind him, only to see her still asleep. It's not surprising in the slightest; she'd either be up at the crack of dawn or asleep until noon.

Brendon puffs out a breath before going into the restroom. He takes a piss, and washes his hands, then just stares at himself in the mirror.

His eyes are hallow and his lips a full, full of wonder and sleep. There's someone in the livingroom who he might just give into at any time, and that alone gives him chills. There's someone they're both interested in, who he might do the same with. There's temptation on the bridge of his nose, and hesistance in his eyes.

It's terrifying, but oh, so thrilling.

Brendon's fingers comb through his hair before he walks back out and into the livingroom, glancing at his mother one last time just to make sure her chest is moving up and down.

It is.

When he's back in the other room, Tyler's looking out the window and talking on the phone, a cheery smile taking over their features. "Good morning," they murmur to whoever it may be.

Brendon's lips go crooked. He decides to grab his clothes for the day while they're busy.

"Me too." Pause. Then, there's a chuckle. "Yeah, I bet." They're shaking their head with a grin.

Brendon can't help but listen, wondering who they're talking to and what they're talking about. He knows, though, it's most likely Josh. Tyler definitely missed him enough to call and check up on him this morning.

"Shut up, you're tired." They laugh, then say, "Mhm. Okay." And roll their eyes, pulling down the bottom of their briefs a bit when noticing how high they were riding up. Brendon bites his cheek. "How's Jim?"

It's definitely Josh. He wouldn't know who else it would be.

Brendon looks to Tyler again just to make sure they wouldn't look his way. Still, they're facing the window and staring outside, so Brendon decides it's alright to change. He turns so his back faces them before taking his sweats off and instead pulling on some jeans. He doesn't bother to switch out his top; the pullover is bringing him enough comfort.

He packs his sweatpants back into the bag and zips it up, quickly sitting down onto the couch and pretending to watch TV.

Tyler's conversation continues for a while, and he tries not to pay mind to it until Tyler says, "He's right here." Brendon looks up at them when they turn his way, registering the way their eyes move as they listen intently to Josh over the phone. "Okay," They mutter, pulling the phone away from themself and presenting it to Brendon. "He wants to talk to you."

Brendon looks up at Tyler and they look down at him, nodding along.

Timidly, he grabs it and brings it to his ear while they walk over to the table and look for their own clothes for the day.

"Hello?" He croaks out.

"Thank you." Is Josh's first response.

Brendon's eyebrows pull together. "For what?"

If he could see Josh right now, he'd probably be shrugging. "I don't know, they just seem really happy. Thank you for keeping them happy." He lets out a thoughtful huff. "They don't usually leave the house voluntarily."

Brendon pulls a knee to his chest, playing with one of the loose strings of his ripped pants. "Oh. . . Well, uh, yeah. It was--" he glances over to Tyler and sees them putting on some black jeans. They're highwaisted, so they have to pull their hoodie up a bit to button them, and their happy trail makes yet another appearance. "It's been good. . . A lot better than what usually happens over here." He mumbles, distracted once again.

Tyler tucks their shirt into their pants although their hoodie covers it, and then is putting on a belt.

Brendon clears his throat. "But-- uh, it's. . . You know. Nice. I should be thanking them."

Tyler looks up from their waist. "You both need to stop talking about me."

Josh must of heard this, because he says, "Tell them to shut up."

Brendon chuckles and nonetheless repeats it. "Josh said to shut up."

Tyler only rolls their eyes and goes back to putting the belt on, and still, Brendon's attention never leaves their frame. He's fallen hard, so hard he's surprised he's not bloody or bruised. It's pathetic how dependent he's become on them and Josh to keep him happy. They fulfill every wish though, somehow in some way.

"When is lunchtime over there?" Josh suddenly asks.

"Noon. Why?"

"Because-- well, one, I want to see you again, and two, I do have the car, after all. Tyler does need to come home at some point." Josh jokes, because yeah, maybe Brendon has been very clingy to them. He can't help it.

"Okay. . . Well, it's noon." He utters.

"I'll be there."

Brendon smiles a bit. He wants to see Josh again. "I'll be waiting."

There's a short, breathy laugh through Josh's nose. "Okay. I'll see you then." He goes quiet for a moment before continuing. "Put Tyler on the phone again, yeah?"

Brendon nods although he couldn't see it and reaches over the arm of the couch to Tyler, trying to grab their attention without words. They glance at him, fumbling to buckle their belt before grabbing the phone and bringing it to their ear. Afterwards, they sit down onto the floor, tucking their phone in between their shoulder and head while putting on socks. Of course, Brendon thinks, they're not normal socks. They're fishnets. Fishnet socks?

He doesn't know, but Tyler looks good. Their sense of fashion is growing on him.

"Promise?" Tyler whispers. He really needs to stop listening in. "Okay. I'll see you then." They connect eyes with Brendon for a mere moment before focusing back on getting changed. "I love you too. Bye." Is the last thing said. They press the button to end the call and drop their phone onto the floor, trying to get their socks to fit just right.

Though, because of the two of them getting ready, Brendon's brows furrow. "What time is it?"

Tyler glances to their phone screen. "Seven forty."

Brendon sighs loudly, sitting up from the couch. "I need to wake my mom up. Breakfast is soon."

He begins to walk to her bedroom door, but Tyler lets out a deep whine that grabs his attention enough to make him turn around.

They say nothing, only reaching up for him.

Brendon stares down at them for a moment, because it's the first time Tyler has looked visibly. . . Biddable. He swallows thickly at the thought, only helping them off the floor without a word and turning back around to walk into his mother's room.

"Mom?" He whispers while gently shaking her awake.

It takes a moment, but her eyes blink open. "Hmm?"

He bites his cheek. "We've got to get you ready for breakfast." She doesn't respond, so Brendon continues. "Do you want me to help you up?"

Really, she has no other choice but to nod. He helps her out of bed with shaky hands and a heavy chest.

He knows this will never get easier. Not when it has been countless years of the same routine, not when he's so paranoid for a life that he'll check pulses out of instinct. It's not easy doing this without his siblings, or his father, and it's definitely not easy when her being consumes his entire discretion.

In a way, he's trapped. Where will he go?

He turns to look out the bedroom door only to see Tyler looking back at him, and he knows. Maybe now he has people to fall back onto, and they'd be there when he plummets. It's more often than not, but Tyler and Josh seem to be holding him up just fine.

More than fine.

He clears his throat and casts his eyes onto his mother once more. "If I get your clothes ready can you brush your hair?"

Adamantly, she nods, and makes her way into the bathroom.

Brendon watches her attentively. He's aware of how long this will might take for her to get ready, and how frustrated he could get. It's nothing he wants Tyler to witness, so he sees this as his chance to protect whatever vulnerability that hasn't shone through just yet.

He walks over to them and stuffs his hands into his back pockets as they face one another. "This, uh, it might take awhile, so do you just wanna go down there now with Carina? She should be there."

Tyler takes everything into account, and they probably know exactly what he means by that.

They never address it though, they only nod. "Okay, I'll meet you down there."

The two of them stare at one another, trying to pull out anything they possibly could before departing.

Tyler's eyelashes flutter, and maybe Brendon's heart does as well.

Finally, though, Tyler makes sure they have their phone and makes their way out the door without a word. When it closes behind them, Brendon sighs heavily. It's no weight being lifted off his shoulders, just loneliness cleansing his soul.

Nevertheless, he makes his way back into his mother's bedroom and picks out an outfit for her like a parent might do for their child. He glances into the bathroom every so often just to make sure she was brushing her hair, and luckily, she is. So, to Brendon, it's as good as it can be. He tries to think about it this way while doing everything for her. Perhaps seeing Grace bare throughout the time shouldn't bother him any longer, yet he can't help but look away whenever he helps her with her top and undergarments.

He would have never thought their roles would switch; in his youth, she'd do this to him, but now, in a decaying age, tables turn, and hearts ache.

It takes them quite some time for Grace to be completely ready to eat. Brendon makes sure to keep her steady with a hand ghosting over her backside as they walk down the stairs and into the dining hall. He sees Carina speaking clearly with her hands while Tyler gives terse nods, and it makes him crack a smile for an unknown reason.

Soon, he helps his mother into her seat; on the right of Carina and the left of Brendon.

Tyler sits on his right side.

Immediately, once Grace is settled, she leans forward a bit to look at Tyler with a lost expression. Brendon's confused as well until she asks, "Who's this?"

Tyler doesn't seem upset. They must understand by now.

Still, it upsets Brendon, when it probably shouldn't. It isn't her fault-- he knows it isn't-- but the fact that she has forgotten someone dear to him isn't settling well.

He doesn't speak with a bite, only hesitance.

"This is, uh--" he sucks in his bottom lip. The occasion has finally risen with his battle of who Tyler is. He couldn't say friend; Tyler is more than his friend. Them and Josh both. These thoughts are what push him to make things more complicated, and quickly, he regrets it. "Do you remember me talking about Josh? Do you remember Josh."

With an unknowing smile, Grace nods.

Although it's strange how she remembers Josh but not Tyler, Brendon continues. "This is Josh's--"

No.

No, no, no.

His body flushes faster than his heart could drop. Despite knowing what Josh labels Tyler, Brendon can't bring himself to say it. Not after everything they explained to him about how uncomfortable being associated with either gender is.

He can't say husband. That doesn't feel right.

Brendon's stomach twists harshly, and Tyler must notice his hesitance because they look at him with furrowed brows, and it doesn't help his panic much at all.

His eyes shift back to his mother.

He swallows so thickly he might choke, but instead, he pushes through. "This is Josh's partner." Is what he can get out.

Grace isn't aware of the struggle he's just gone through, so she gives a mere hum and sits back into her seat without going any further.

Brendon's leg bounces, though. Brendon's leg shakes the table. He doesn't know why that triggered him, but it has, and now all he could feel is the overwhelming sensation of fear. . . Guilt. . . Uncertainty.

If Tyler's significant other calls them his husband, why couldn't Brendon label them as that?

He did it once before. Once with Carina, when Tyler wasn't around and when he had yet to know about anything surrounding the subject further. Now-- well, now he can't even think about them that way without feeling sick.

Why?

Carefully, his eyes catch Tyler's, and there is no expression to read from.

Brendon's lips are in a natural frown while they stare at each other. He's paranoid he's done something wrong, something that might effect them so horribly, but for now, it seems like nothing. Tyler simply breathes and nods, and really, the two of them stay particularly quiet for the entirety of breakfast.

***

For the fear of failure, Brendon gets up once finishing his meal and walks over to the small counter away from the tables where fruits and goodies laid. He grabbed a cookie, a chocolate chip one for him, and then another.

When walking back over to the table, Tyler's to themself. They aren't conversing with Carina nor the eldests, they just stare into their plate and eat numbly.

Brendon gulps at the sight.

He sticks a cookie out beside them, trying to grab their attention as much as he could.

Slowly, Tyler looks up at him. It seems as though they both have been having a better time talking with their eyes than their mouths today, because Brendon tilts his head down at them, and they must understand when delicately grabbing ahold of his offer.

Hopefully, this is peace.

Brendon sits down afterwards; they eat their cookies quietly beside one another.

***

There's an activity after breakfast, and for once, Brendon couldn't care less about it. Usually these type of things excited him because he wouldn't have to be pent up with Grace in her apartment watching reruns, but now all he wants to do is just that. Well, not that exactly. He only wanted to be alone with Tyler again, because a dire question rests upon his shoulders.

The activity is kickball, and Grace is very adamant on wanting to play.

No, it's not normal kickball. It's built for decaying bones, so things are simple. A soft kick in the lounge, and croaky cheers from other participants.

"Do we have to?" Brendon sighs when Grace brings it up.

"Please," She mumbles. "Kickball is my favorite. And, I need to show Joe that I've gotten better."

Joe. Fucking Joe, is all he can think.

Brendon has no choice, though. He's here to please his mother's needs, and if she wants this, well, she'll get it.

While he sits up from the table, he and Tyler connect eyes, and even they seem unhappy with this outcome. Of course, they never say anything, but finally he's able to see it clear in their eyes. They probably wanted to go back to the apartment just as much as he did.

Brendon helps his mother up from the chair, and even gives Carina a hand because he misses her touch.

There's been a lack of since Tyler has been here, but maybe for good reasons.

Instead of letting go, she pulls him closer. Close enough to where she is able to whisper in his ear over the commotion of people exiting the dining area.

"If you want, I can keep an eye on her while you and Tyler go back to the room?" She shrugs her shoulders while pulling away; hand still in his, and eyes still so, so bright.

As always, she's too good for him.

Brendon shakes his head. "Carina, you don't have to do that. . ."

The offer is tempting, but the will to help his mother drowns it out completely. He comes here weekly to tend to her every need, and if he can't do that, what's the point? It's selfish. Unfailingly, he's there for the benefits, isn't he? Maybe taking care of his mom is validation. It's probably the only thing that keeps him going.

Carina's grasp becomes tighter. "No. It's okay."

Brendon frowns.

"Do what you need to do. I've got it."

"Carina--"

"I've got it." She declares.

Brendon huffs, and nonetheless gives in. He tries not to think that he's choosing Tyler over his own mother right now.

He pulls Carina into a hug. "Thank you."

She rubs his back in return. "I love you."

His eyes close momentarily, bathing in that word, because he knows she means it, and so does he. "I love you too."

They pull away, and quickly, Brendon is turning to face Tyler. He purses his lips into a small smile and reaches for their hand. He'd say it was to guide them back to his mother's room-- which is partially true-- but mostly, it's because now it's time for just the two of them. Finally.

Tyler seems confused by the action. Nonetheless, they grab ahold of his hand and allow Brendon to lead them out of the dining area and up the stairs.

At the second floor, they ask, "What about your mom?"

Brendon's unlocking the door when it happens. "Carina's going to look after her for a little bit."

Tyler's lips go crooked at the information, and maybe they're glad to hear it. Brendon wouldn't doubt that this experience has been tiring for them, because it's tiring for himself.

Once they're both inside, their hands let go of one another.

Brendon watches Tyler instantly begin untying their sneakers and kicking them off, plopping down on the couch. He's glad they can at least be comfortable enough here, because that's all he can ask for right now.

He settles for laying face first on the air mattress, struggling to get his own shoes off without hands, but he manages.

So, they sit there, and it's awfully quiet.

Brendon breathes in the pillows, and he can smell that barely-there scent of coffee from Tyler, even a bit of Axe. Tyler's everywhere. He likes it that way, though.

At the thought, there's a sudden odd sensation is on his shoulder blade.

Prodding.

"Tyler?" He mumbles out into the pillow.

No response.

The prodding is gone and is instead replaced with rubbing, softly, up and down his back. Teasing for nothing in particular.

It's okay until the realization suddenly hits him on what it is. "Ew," he pulls back when he says it, twisting around to see what's happening. "Why are you rubbing your feet on me." It's not that big of a deal, but Brendon can't get over how weird Tyler is sometimes. They wiggle their toes beneath their fishnet socks and chuckle.

"Can you get me my bag?" They question.

They just wanted his attention.

"I can. If you get your feet off me." He looks at them; they look at each other.

Tyler hums. "Deal." And pulls their feet away.

Brendon takes a moment, but does eventually get off the mattress to retrieve their bag. He was going to ask why they needed it, but it seems he didn't have to; after handing it to Tyler, they pull out their journal.

Brendon remembers them saying they write to get stuff off their mind, which ultimately makes him frown to himself.

This is his fault and he knows it.

He's not sure what to do, or if there's anything he can do, so he only sits on the complete utter side of the couch to give them their space and privacy, and turns on the television. He watches something besides his mother's favorite shows and tries to breathe it out.

It's like that for a while, it is, until Brendon gets too caught up in his own head. Tyler's writing with a tense hand and heavy heart, and all he can think is how shameful he should feel. He should have just told his mother this is Tyler. Why did he have to make things so complicated?

Was it disrespectful what he did? Is Tyler upset at him? Has he triggered something inside of them as well?

He has too many questions.

His heart beats so loudly he's suprised they haven't turned around and stared. Tyler hasn't done anything the last ten minutes except write rapidly against the page with furrowed brows. He supposed they're trying to make sense of themself.

Brendon's trying to make sense of this, too.

He glances their way, face in a natural gloomy state.

Tyler doesn't look at him; they're far too concentrated on their writing to do so.

He sighs, and huffs, and nearly whimpers just because he can't stand it. He needs to know if they're okay or not. He needs to know the answer to the problem.

Brendon bites his cheek and pulls at his knuckles before sporadically moving close enough to them to put his head in their lap. Instantly, Tyler stops in their tracks and moves their journal out of the way to see his face. They don't say a thing. The two of them stare at one another for what feels like the hundredth time today before Tyler continues writing like Brendon didn't just push past all his anxiety to do this.

He was about to let out a frustrated groan, but then he feels a hand slowly beginning to play with his hair.

This is better. A lot better.

Brendon closes his eyes momentarily to bask in it. It's reassurance, but still not enough for him to be relieved of the obvious tension that lies before them.

Tyler's reading through everything they have written while mindlessly playing with his hair, and it's alright. He likes watching the way their eyes scan the page back and forth-- just the immense amount of concentration on their face makes his racing heart swell a little more.

Though, the pang in his chest becomes heavier the longer they sit there without a word.

Tyler finishes reading and purses their lips, breathing.

Brendon doesn't know when the right time is. He looks up at them, hoping they'd look back, and luckily they do. He just wanted their attention for this.

"Tyler," He mutters.

They say nothing, but he can read them well enough to know they want him to continue.

"Can I ask you something?" Brendon then whispers, stomach in knots at the thought.

Tyler considers it for a moment. They probably know full well what it will be. "Okay." They say, just as quietly, maybe even hesitantly.

Brendon pushes out a heavy breath because of this; far too overwhelmed to think clearly right now. He didn't know whether he was being invasive or not, all he knew is that this is something he needs to understand right now. For him, and for them. For everyone.

Tyler waits for him, patiently, and in the meantime tucks their pen in between the pages of their journal and sets it aside so they can give him their full attention.

Brendon inhales and exhales a few times. "Maybe I just don't get it. . . But. . . Why-- why does Josh call you his husband? I-I know there's probably a lot I don't understand but it doesn't seem right and it. . . It makes me uncomfortable."

Tyler seems numb.

This was probably a bad decision.

Their Adam's apple bobs so harshly he can hear the apprehension. "It makes me uncomfortable, too." They mumble.

Immediately, Brendon's body goes hot, for all the wrong reasons.

He sits up a little and looks at them with worried eyes. "What?"

Tyler says nothing. Maybe they're embarrassed; maybe even shameful.

Brendon doesn't like it. No, Brendon hates it. He can't wrap his mind around this. What do they mean by that? Josh calls them his husband and it makes them uncomfortable, yet he does it anyways? Why?

"Tyler, what. . . What do you mean?" Concerns pile up in seconds. "Why does Josh call you that if it makes you uncomfortable? What. . . What the fuck?"

Brendon's feeling so many things at once. Sadness, worry, confusion, even anger.

Tyler can't look at him any longer, nor touch him. They pull their hand out of his hair and stare at the pattern imprinted on the couch. "Josh doesn't know."

Brendon thought Josh knew everything.

It's nearly relieving to know he isn't doing it purposely, but it hurts a lot more when realizing Tyler has kept this to themself their entire relationship. That's eleven years. Eleven years of being labeled as something you're not.

Brendon's heart sinks faster than he can blink.

"Why haven't you told him?" He wonders meekly.

Tyler sighs, rubbing their temples out of frustration. "Because I don't want to put him through that."

Brendon furrows his brows. "Through what?"

Tyler shakes their head, this is hard for them to talk about and it's obvious. A lot harder than it was for them yesterday, because this is something they've been struggling with completely alone. Josh has no idea what they've been going through.

Brendon feels sick.

"I don't want him to feel pressured." They mumble. "It's easier for him to say husband, because if not, people ask questions. So many questions, Brendon, and I don't want that for him. I can deal with it, I can." He has a feeling it's the exact opposite. They're trying to make themself believe that.

Brendon frowns, sitting up completely to the point where instead of his head being in their lap, he is on their lap.

He finds it hard to breathe. There's so much being laid out in front of him, but he can't be thinking about himself right now. Right now, he needs to help Tyler.

Brendon holds onto their hands to grab their attention.

"Listen to me, yeah? I listen to you all the time, so please give it to me in return." He's begging, because he's well aware of how adamant Tyler is being.

Their eyes scan his.

They nod sheepishly.

Brendon breathes out relief. "I know you don't want to put any pressure on him for your own good will, but I don't think you understand how much Josh is willing to do for you. He's so in love with you it's fucking insane." Brendon glances down at their connected hands momentarily. "You need to tell him. Especially if it effects you like this. And-and-and if you can't do it for yourself, do it for me. I can't handle that. It makes me feel horrible. Horrible."

They stare at one another again, and it's the closest he's seen Tyler's walls fall completely down.

Of course, they keep it contained for now, but the glassy look in their eyes is something so foreign to him that he could cry himself. It only proves his point; this situation is extremely sincere for them.

"Please?" Brendon whispers. He's desperate.

Tyler lets go of one of his hands and runs it over his cheek, then pushes up his glasses just because they can. "Okay." They murmur.

He doesn't believe it. "Promise?" He asks, sticking his pinky out.

Tyler chuckles lightly. "Are you seriously making me pinky promise you?"

Brendon hums. "If it means it'll save you from torment, then yes."

Tyler falters a bit at that. Reality sets in, fast.

Nonetheless, they wrap their pinky around his with a shaky breath. "When I'm ready," they add.

Brendon nods. "When you're ready." And pulls his hand away from theirs. Instead, he snuggles into their neck because now is the best opportunity, and Tyler seems very pleased with that.

They hold his waist and breathe him in. "Thank you." They whisper, and what takes Brendon completely off guard is feeling their lips peck his temple.

He emits a weak noise, eyes wide. His grip on their sweatshirt tightens drastically, and he's pretty sure that simple action knocked all the breath out of him. His heart is deafening, his pulse might have stopped, and his mind is a trainwreck right now. "Oh-oh gosh," he murmurs, body trembling.

He can hear Tyler's gentle chuckles.

Brendon pulls back to look at them, heart in his throat. He tries to swallow it full, but it's impossible at this point.

"You're cute." Tyler says. Easily.

Brendon flushes. Easily. "Stop."

They simply smile, and he's close enough to see where every tooth is angled crookedly. It's beautiful at fault, and he doesn't know how they do it.

Brendon's overwhelmed. "You should hold me more."

"I can do that."

And, they do. Longer than they probably should have but neither of them were complaining. Brendon supposed they both needed it right now; overwhelmed with the circumstances but relieved to know they at least had each other.

***

Eventually, Grace is back with Brendon.

The three of them sit around the livingroom watching Family Feud and, really, that's all. Tyler's on the couch and Brendon sits on the air mattress, in between their legs while they messed with his hair.

It's like this for well over an hour, until there's a sudden knock at the door.

Brendon's immediate response is to furrow his eyebrows, but Tyler doesn't seem nearly as confused. Their hands rip away from his head as they jump off the couch and walk over to the door in a rush, opening it to reveal Josh with a big grin.

In a matter of seconds they're wrapped in each other. Tyler brings their arms around his neck and pulls him close, kissing him tenderly. It's the affection neither of them received while they were separated, and so now they're savoring every bit of it.

"Missed you," Tyler mutters against him.

Josh kisses them harder.

Brendon's body goes hot at the sight, but yet again, he doesn't look anywhere else. He supposed these types of things were piquing his interest more than shying him away now. It's a swift change; a menacing one.

Josh pulls away from them and smiles at Brendon. "Hey."

He bites his lip. "Hey,"

Grace seems confused about the situation but says nothing other than a hello to Josh, which he responds to easily, and uses that God given charm he has. He also uses his God given charm when pulling Brendon up from the air mattress and holding him tight.

Yeah, Brendon definitely missed him, too.

They say nothing, but the embrace speaks for itself. There's something so inviting about it, and Brendon is practically melting in his hold.

It doesn't last long, but the feeling is forever.

"I came at the right time, right?" He asks.

Brendon peeks at his phone in his pocket to check the time, seeing it'll be noon fairly soon. "Yeah."

"Okay. Good." He fiddles with the car keys in his hand. "I kind of also maybe came early to see you and Tyler already." He adds. "Maybe."

Brendon looks over Josh's shoulder to see Tyler roll their eyes with a soft smile. It's okay, really, but once Tyler is hanging onto him again and snuggling their face into his neck, they both look so happy living on an enormous secret. He feels dirty knowing something so unforthcoming that Josh isn't aware of; he feels dirty knowing Tyler's practically playing pretend right now.

He and Tyler connect eyes, and just by his deamonor, they know exactly what he's thinking.

When they're ready, he reminds himself.

He's hoping the time comes soon, because this doesn't feel genuine. Tyler acting like there's absolutely nothing wrong when really there's such an underlying sense of despair breaks Brendon into pieces.

They stick their pinky out without blinking.

Brendon nearly frowns.

Tyler waits, and Josh isn't worrying enough what this is about. He should. He doesn't know, though, it's not his fault at all.

All it takes is the sincerity in their eyes to push him, because it's evident it won't be easy for them to do this. No, not at all, and Brendon understands.

He reaches his pinky out and connects it with theirs.

A promise. A trust.