Page 62 of Will & Patrick's Endless Honeymoon
“I wanted him to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for him. It’s why I let him treat me the way he did. I never wanted him to die miserable.” He wiped the tears from his cheeks. “And I hate that he died still hurting someone else.”
Patrick rubs Will’s back, his hand soothing and familiar. “Should we text for information on the funeral?”
“No.” Will shakes his head, tears rolling off his chin and splashing, hot and surprising, against his exposed knees. He kicks off his flip-flops and digs his toes into the rough, yellow sand.
He stares out at the rolling water, grateful that Patrick doesn’t say anything. His hand on Will’s back is the exact weight that he needs to hold him together.
“I really want a drink,” Will says. “More than I’ve wanted one in a long time.”
Patrick still says nothing. He just strokes Will’s back slowly. They sit together watching the moon rise above the horizon.
Will closes his eyes, and more tears slip down his face. Wordlessly, he leans against Patrick, finally giving into sobs, and folds down to pillow his head on Patrick’s thigh. Patrick runs his fingers through his hair. The moon continues to rise.
Eventually, Will’s tears stop, and he wipes his eyes with the edge of Patrick’s shirt. “I’m ready,” he whispers, rising to his feet and reaching down to help Patrick up. “It’s been long past time to say goodbye to Ryan.”
Patrick remains quiet, and they walk hand-in-hand to their room, where they shower before climbing into bed to curl in each other’s arms.
“I want to help Hartley,” Will says, nuzzling Patrick’s soft hair.
“If he’ll accept your help, that’s fine by me.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“There isn’t much you can do. He’s been through a lot.”
“Yeah.” Will swallows hard and squeezes Patrick closer. “I owe you so much for opening my eyes to what real love feels like.”
“Ditto.”
Will smiles, his heart aching with bittersweet feelings. “Hartley deserves to know real love too.”
“You planning to show him?”
“No.”
“Then there’s not much you can do about that either. Let Hartley find his own way. He’s strong.”
“He’s been broken.”
Patrick kisses Will’s chest and rubs his cheek against his chest hair. “No, he’s strong. That was Ryan’s type, you know. The stronger, the better. The more fun to break.”
Will remembers the prideful Hartley he once knew and has to admit Patrick’s on to something. “I still want to be there for him.”
“Fine. But when he bites your head off, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Can you make me forget?”
Patrick trails a hand down to Will’s crotch. “Like this?”
“No,” Will murmurs, tugging Patrick’s mouth up for a kiss. “Like this.”
They kiss sweetly for a long time. Eventually, mouths raw and sore, they rub against each other until they come. It’s enough to leave Will sleepy and ready to let go for the night.
Patrick cleans them up, checks Will’s monitor, and then assumes his sleeping position: head on Will’s chest, arm slung across his stomach. It’s familiar and comforting. It’s right.
“Sleep tight, puddin’-pop,” Patrick slurs as he drifts off.
Will stares at the moon outside their hotel room window. It shines on the waves, illuminating the comfortable darkness of their room. The next morning they’ll fly home and life will start up where it left off. There’ll be family to cope with, jobs to do, and, in Patrick’s case, patients and nurses to cure and offend. They’ll have life to live, and a future life to plan.
