It had been several weeks since Jamie had drunkenly professed his love to Bennett in the heat of the moment.

Bennett didn't doubt that Jamie meant it—and what a Jamie thing to do, to be so full of emotion and to let it come bubbling out of him like a pot boiling over. They hadn't talked about it since then—they'd fallen asleep and the next morning, it was as if it had never happened, except—

Except.

In a way, Jamie's declaration of love hadn't surprised Bennett. After all, one of the things Bennett loved best about Jamie—because of course he loved him, how could he not—was how deeply Jamie felt, how raw and vulnerable he was willing to be.

Still, Bennett had hoped he might have more time to prepare himself for what almost seemed inevitable. Jamie had so much faith in Bennett, seemed firmly stuck in the mindset—like Peter—that Bennett was a decent, functioning human being. And Bennett knew, long before Jamie actually said it, that he wouldn't be able to return the words.

He'd always had this problem. It had been an issue with Michelle, and with boyfriends and girlfriends before that. It wasn't that Bennett didn't feel it—but, for someone who made his living with words, he seemed strangely unable to communicate what was going on in his head when it came to relationships.

He wouldn't have blamed Jamie for simply walking out that night and never coming back. But Jamie stayed, because Jamie was wonderful and forgiving and understanding and kind, and that night, as Jamie had tenderly run the warm washcloth across Bennett's stomach, it had felt something like absolution, as if Jamie were saying, I know, and I know you can't say it yet.

Or at least, Bennett hoped that's what he'd been saying.

* * *

"Hey, did you get an invite to this weird dinner thing?"

Bennett looked up to see Jamie flopping down in his usual chair in Bennett's office. Jamie tossed a small notecard onto Bennett's desk, and he picked it up to examine it.

"Oh, yes," Bennett said, handing it back to Jamie. "They do this every year."

He'd known what it was as soon as he felt the thick, expensive cardstock, seen the Bellamy University crest embossed in gold on the front. Each year, at the end of the winter semester, the president of the university hosted an elaborate dinner for each of the departments, inviting the more senior or illustrious faculty members and a few students who'd managed to distinguish themselves either by merit, networking, or the right family name. Bennett had been surprised to receive an invitation his first year, though as soon as he'd arrived at the mansion—because it could only be called that—he'd realized this was a very elite affair.

"I… probably will," Bennett said, looking back at his computer. "It'd be… a little impolite to turn it down."

"Why did I get an invite?" Jamie demanded. "I'm not even in the writing department, technically."

"Probably because you're my teaching assistant," Bennett said. "And I gave you a glowing review."

"Semester's not even over yet," Jamie said, but he was trying futilely to hide his large grin. "I could still fuck up."

"I think you'll be fine," Bennett said, raising an eyebrow. Jamie looked very pleased with himself.

"So, does this mean I can be like, your date or something?"

Bennett practically choked.

"Absolutely not—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jamie said, rolling his eyes. "I was joking—I know."

Bennett pressed his lips together. He didn't miss the note of sadness in Jamie's voice, didn't miss the smallest flash in Jamie's eyes.

"It's just for a few more weeks, Jamie," Bennett said softly. "Then you won't be my TA, and we can… just be together."

And for once, Jamie didn't look overjoyed at the thought. Instead, he looked down at his lap, picking at the arm of the chair.

"Yeah, but is it though?" he said, and when he looked up his hazel eyes felt like a spotlight burning into Bennett.

"What do you mean?" Bennett said.

"I mean… like, what if you decide you don't want to be seen with me?"

Bennett's mouth fell open when he realized Jamie was being serious.

"Where is this coming from?" he said.

Jamie still wasn't meeting his gaze.

"I dunno," he said. "I’m just… nervous, I guess, for things to change. Like what if you decide…"

He trailed up, so Bennett got up and made sure the office door was locked before pulling Jamie into his arms.

"If I decide what?" he said, burying his face in Jamie's neck and nipping at the skin there. Jamie let out a soft, floaty sigh, the way he always did when Bennett kissed him there.

"That I’m too young, or not… smart or… cultured enough?"

"Jamie," Bennett said, pulling back and bringing his hands up to cup Jamie's face. He tilted Jamie's chin up. "Look at me—there we go. You are smart and funny and sweet and perfect. You never have to worry about not being enough."

"I—okay," Jamie said, sounding unconvinced.

"What can I do to make you believe that?"

"I dunno," Jamie said slowly. "I just… kind of get worried about it sometimes. It… doesn't even really have that much to do with anything you do or don't do, you know? It just… happens."

"I understand," Bennett said. And some part of him knew that this would be the right time to tell Jamie he loved him, that those words would mean the world to his boyfriend who was so young and so earnest and so fragile.

But he couldn't say it, so instead, he began to kiss Jamie.

Despite Jamie's frequent come-ons and innuendos, they'd never done more than kiss in Bennett's office. It had never been a particularly sexy place for Bennett—there were usually people yelling in the halls, and he was usually thinking about emails he needed to return or papers he needed to grade. Even when he was distracted from work by his lust for Jamie in this early days of the semester, his office hadn't been his ideal hook-up spot beyond good fantasy fodder.

But this time, he didn't really mind. And he was only encouraged by the way that Jamie seemed to melt in his arms, going boneless as he pushed his tongue into Jamie's mouth. He began to kiss down along the sharp line of Jamie's jaw, now such a familiar angle, and Jamie threw his head back, allow Bennett better access to his neck.

Bennett spun Jamie around, still holding him close so Jamie could feel how hard he'd made Bennett.

Jamie moaned, pressing his ass back against Bennett and sighing. He was so perfect, Bennett thought, so eager and yielding, and something feral inside Bennett woke up, opening its eyes and sniffing.

He let whatever that side of him was take control, giving into his need for Jamie, to prove to Jamie how he felt even if he couldn't say it. He brought his hands up under Jamie's shirt, stripping it off, and Jamie whimpered slightly—probably at the sudden temperature change, Bennett thought, the cool air against his skin, the incongruous feeling of being exposed in an academic building.

It only fueled that creature more, and he let his hands drag roughly over Jamie's body, taking the skin of Jamie's shoulder between his teeth and sucking at it as Jamie gasped.

Bennett slid his hands further down, undoing Jamie's pants, and Jamie stumbled forward in shock, bringing his hands to the desk so his ass was grinding against Bennett's cock. Bennett growled, yanking Jamie's pants down past his knees.

"Fuck yeah—" Jamie gasped.

Bennett put his hand on Jamie's low back, sliding it up along his spine and urging him to lean forward. Jamie didn't need much encouragement, collapsing forward over the desk and shoving his ass back towards Bennett.

Bennett knelt down behind him, ignoring his leg as it protested. He grabbed Jamie's ass, squeezing and enjoying the feeling of Jamie's firm, lean muscles. Jamie let out a little shocked inhale as Bennett spread him and licked a stripe from his balls to the base of his spine.

"Oh shit—" Jamie gasped.

"Okay?" Bennett said, pausing for a moment.

"Fucking fantastic—" Jamie panted, rolling his hips impatiently. Bennett laughed and went back to work, teasing his tongue down the cleft of Jamie's ass and circling around his hole as Jamie whined and bucked beneath him.

He was wonderfully receptive, and every movement of Bennett's tongue produced a new, delightful noise from Jamie—moans and whimpers and gasps as Jamie's hands scrabbled frantically at the papers on Bennett's desk.

They hadn't done this yet—Bennett had wanted to, had often thought about tasting Jamie, fucking him open with his tongue, but Jamie hadn't expressed interest and there hadn't been a time for it to come up organically.

But now Bennett was glad he hadn't waited any longer, because Jamie seemed like he was in heaven, fucking back against Bennett's tongue as Bennett shoved his tongue inside him.

"Fuck, god—Bennett—it's so good—you're so good—fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Bennett had planned to grab Jamie's cock at some point, to stroke him until he came, but then Jamie was arching against him, his moans turning high and wonderfully tortured, his whole body shivering, and then he collapsed down onto the desk, panting.

Bennett sat back on his heels, and it was only then that he felt his whole leg cramping up. He rubbed at the tense muscles, wincing, as Jamie propped himself up on his elbows and looked back over his shoulders at Bennett, his expression utterly fucked-out and a little embarrassed.

"Did you—" Bennett said, gingerly getting to his feet.

"I… didn't mean to," Jamie said, still panting. "It just… happened, sorry—"

"Why are you apologizing?" Bennett said, pulling Jamie back to his feet and spinning him around in his arms. He brought his hand to Jamie's chin, tilting his head up so they were looking at one another. "Don't you know how unbelievably sexy that was?"

Jamie looked skeptical.

"Wasn't that a little… you know, immature?" he said. "Like, you didn't even… touch my dick."

Bennett leaned in to kiss him but stopped, not sure if Jamie would care. But Jamie closed the distance between them, throwing himself headlong into the kiss in the same needy, wonderful way he always did.

"Darling, you were perfect," Bennett said, breaking away after a moment. "And very flattering, believe me."

Jamie looked slightly mollified.

"I guess… I can see how that might be… kinda hot."

"Extremely hot," Bennett said, and Jamie smiled.

"Do you want me to…" Jamie said, trailing his hand down Bennett's body.

"I'm good for now," Bennett said, and Jamie raised his eyebrow. "Keep in mind I am twenty years older than you and don't require four orgasms a day to keep my head on straight."

"Hey," Jamie said indignantly, finally hauling his clothes back on. "First of all, you're only eighteen years older, and second of all, I've weaned myself down to only three a day."

"You're insatiable and it's perfect," Bennett said. "But I do have a meeting in—" He glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes. But I'll certainly collect on that offer on Friday."

* * *

Jamie had pouted a bit when Bennett had explained that yes, it would look bad if they showed up at the president's dinner together. Bennett had been thinking of what Jamie had said the week before in his office about Bennett not wanting to be seen with him.

And when Bennett thought about it, he realized there was a grain of truth in Jamie's fear—but not for the same reasons Jamie had expected. It had nothing to do with Jamie—perfect and lovely and charming and golden—and everything to do with Bennett. Bennett had managed to get over most of his age-related angst and self-loathing, but the fact remained that he was certainly old enough to be Jamie's father, and they'd make a ridiculous couple if—when, he correct himself—they went out in public. He cared too much, he realized, about what random strangers on the street or in restaurants would think of him, and he wished he didn't. He wished he could be more like Jamie, in that regard.

Bennett spent more time than usual getting ready that evening. He'd had his nicest suit dry-cleaned for the occasion. It had taken him a few years to realize how much he hated events like this—he always had. Especially once he'd started to gain notoriety as a journalist, he'd found himself on the invite list for many very exclusive dinners and parties, and they were, for the most part, all the same—endless hours of posturing small talk and canapes, of judging and being judged over crudités.

He found himself standing by the fireplace, holding a glass of sparkling water to avoid people foisting drinks on him, talking to one of the other professors in the department who was telling a spectacularly boring story about grant writing.

The university president lived in a house owned by the school, and Bennett suspected that more than one student's tuition were spent on keeping up the sprawling, opulent home.

People had been trickling in for some time now, and out of the corner of his eye, Bennett saw Jamie come in, accompanied by his friend Milo. Bennett's heart immediately flipped in an entirely enjoyable way. Jamie looked… incredible. He was wearing his nice sweater, the one he'd worn on Thanksgiving that brought out the green flecks in his eyes, and he'd done something with his hair so it was neatly tamed, rather than falling into his face the way it usually did.

Milo, who was tall and lanky, leaned down to whisper something in Jamie's ear, and Jamie laughed, bright and bubbly. Bennett felt a stab of jealousy—he knew Milo was just Jamie's friend, and he trusted Jamie completely. But Milo was handsome, and more importantly, relatively age-appropriate—they would have made a beautiful couple.

Bennett frowned. Jamie caught his eye, grinning broadly, and Bennett nodded to him gruffly. He'd explained to Jamie that it was probably best for them to not spend too much time interacting. Jamie had countered that he was Bennett's TA and it would be weirder if they didn't interact, which was a fair point. Bennett didn't trust himself, though—he could barely keep his infatuation with Jamie under wraps in the lecture room, never mind an intimate dinner setting.

The other professor drifted away, and after a moment, though, Jamie appeared beside him.

"Hello, Professor Marlowe," he said brightly.

"Hello, Jamie," Bennett said. He lowered his voice. "You look very nice."

"You do too," Jamie said, his voice slightly awed. "Like, whoa. You look like some billionaire playboy international superspy."

Bennett rolled his eyes.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he said.

"It's okay," Jamie said, looking around the room. "Kind of weird, though, you know?"

"I do know," Bennett said. "I guess I’m kind of used to things like this now."

"Don't you think it's kind of strange that it's mostly men? And mostly white people?"

Bennett looked at the crowd.

"You're right," Bennett said, frowning. "I’m… embarrassed to admit I hadn't noticed that."

"I feel a little slimy," Jamie said. "And I feel like I should be… sort of honored to be included but if it's just… like this, I'm not sure I want to be included."

Bennett glanced around the room thoughtfully.

"I see what you're saying," Bennett said. "And for a university that touts itself on its diversity in the student body, you'd think they'd… try a little harder."

"Well," Jamie said, shrugging. "At least I'm getting free bacon-wrapped shrimp out of it. Did you see the appetizers? Insane. I wonder if anyone would notice if I wrapped up a bunch in a napkin and took them home. I could eat for weeks on all this stuff."

Bennett's whole awareness that night seemed to revolve around Jamie like planets around the sun. In the back of his mind, no matter who he was talking to, it was always Jamie, Jamie, Jamie, tugging at the edge of his focus.

At one point, overwhelmed by the endless tight-smiled socialization and the low rumble of voices, Bennett slipped down the hall to get a moment alone. Just past the bathroom, the door to the study was open, so Bennett stepped inside and closed his eyes, massaging his temples.

"You okay?"

Bennett looked up to see Jamie coming in, wearing his usual crooked smile.

"Yes," Bennett said. "Just needed a bit of a break."

Jamie nodded, stepping closer.

"God," he said. "I just can't get over how good you look tonight."

"Thank you," Bennett said mildly, though the compliment warmed him. And then suddenly Jamie's face filled his vision, and Jamie was kissing him, deep and urgent, and his hands went to Jamie's waist automatically, drawing him closer.

Jamie broke the kiss as quickly as he'd initiated it, and Bennett felt unmoored and almost desolate, his whole body crying out for more contact.

"What was that for?" he asked, slightly dazed.

"I didn't feel like waiting 'til we got home," Jamie said, with an impish glint in his eye.

"Now I'm just going to spend the rest of the night thinking about fucking you," Bennett said, and he didn't miss the hot, glassy look that flashed in Jamie's eyes.

"Good," Jamie said. "That makes two of us."

"Get out of here," Bennett said, smiling as he pushed Jamie gently towards the door. The last thing he needed was to try and socialize with his colleagues while sporting a boner.

He didn't need to worry, though, because in the hallway they bumped into none other than Greg Archer, who was on his way into the bathroom. Greg's eyes skated over Jamie and he fixed Bennett with a hard, inscrutable stare.

"Good evening," he said, nodding.

Bennett stumbled through a return greeting, and before he'd even finished the sentence Greg had disappeared into the bathroom.

Jamie turned to look at Bennett, his eyes wide.

"You don't think he—"

"I have no idea," Bennett said grimly. "But we'd better get back out there."

It was unlikely Greg Archer had seen them kiss, but emerging wild-eyed from an empty room was certainly more than incriminating. He knew panic would probably set in later, but in that moment, Bennett felt only exhaustion for the whole stupid system, the posturing and the constant need to impress.

The rest of the dinner wasn't much fun.

* * *

A cellphone was ringing, and Bennett batted at his phone a few times, still mostly asleep, before he realized it wasn't his phone. He'd been sound asleep in bed, Jamie curled up in his arms.

"Hello?"

Jamie's voice was groggy as he sat up. Bennett rolled over. He couldn't quite make out the other end of the conversation, but he could see Jamie frowning deeply, the hall light casting long shadows on his face.

"Yeah, this is him," Jamie said. Bennett blinked up at him, trying to make sense of what was going on as his brain slowly came back online.

"Oh my god," Jamie said, and the soft, sharp shock in his voice made Bennett instantly wake up.

Bennett sat up and looked at Jamie with concern. Jamie's eyes were wide, his hand pressed to his mouth.

Dread crept into Bennett's body like a damp fog.

"When did it happen?" Jamie was saying.

Bennett put his hand on Jamie's arm and Jamie started, turning to look at Bennett with surprise, like he'd forgotten Bennett was there.

"Okay," Jamie said, his voice weak. "Um, thank you—I'll—I'll make arrangements."

He hung up the phone, staring at the wall, his mouth slack.

"Jamie?" Bennett said cautiously. "Is—is everything okay?"

Jamie was quiet for a long moment.

"My grandma had a stroke," he said. "She's in the hospital. They… they don't know if she's going to make it."

Bennett felt like he'd been punched. He pulled Jamie into his chest, folding Jamie into his arms, and hugged him tight. Jamie was stiff and unresponsive—he was in shock.

"Jamie," Bennett said, burying his face into Jamie's hair. "I’m so sorry—"

"I need to get to Georgia," Jamie mumbled. "Fuck—I don't—I need to get a plane ticket—shit—"

Jamie pulled away and stood up, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were wide and wild, like he didn't even know where he was.

"I have to go—" he said, grabbing his clothing where it was still strewn on the floor.

"Jamie," Bennett said firmly, and Jamie blinked.

"What?" Jamie said.

"Where are you going?"

"Georgia," Jamie said, and then he shook himself. "I mean—home—my room—then—I need to buy a—"

"Jamie, sit down for a moment," Bennett said. There was no way Bennett was letting Jamie trek across town in the middle of the night, especially in this state.

"You don’t understand," Jamie snapped, and he'd shifted from shell-shocked to anger. "I'm the only one—I have to take care of her—I'm the only one—" His voice cracked, and even in the dim light, Bennett could see the silvery gleam of tears in his eyes.

"Jamie," Bennett said again, as if he could ground Jamie with the sound of his own name. Bennett got up, his leg stiff and uncooperative, and wrapped Jamie in his arms again, pinning Jamie's arms to his side. Jamie struggled for a brief moment then went still.

"I'll help you, okay?" Bennett said. "We'll go to Georgia—we can catch a flight for tomorrow—er, today—but I need you to sit down, okay?"

He could feel Jamie shivering, and he held him tighter, whispering soothing nonsense for a moment.

"Okay," Jamie said after a moment, and Bennett could feel him nod. Bennett released Jamie and guided him back to bed. Jamie sat down heavily, his head in his hands.

"I'm gonna get my computer, okay?" Bennett said. "And then we'll book a flight."

Bennett limped into the next room to retrieve his laptop and realized he'd just included himself in this trip, too, without even asking if that's what Jamie wanted.

But, Bennett realized, there was no place else he wanted to be than at Jamie's side, if that would comfort Jamie.

Jamie hadn't moved when Bennett came back into the bedroom, and he clicked on the lamp on the bedside table, illuminating the room in soft golden light.

"Jamie?" Bennett said, sitting down on the bed. Jamie twisted around, bleary-eyed and stricken. "It's gonna be—"

He stopped himself. He couldn't promise Jamie that everything would be okay, but there was something he could promise.

"I'm going to take care of you," Bennett said. "You won't be alone."

It was as if Jamie were at the bottom of a deep well, and Bennett could see his words slowly sink in.

A tear rolled down Jamie's cheek and he shifted, crawling across the bed and curling on his side, laying his head in Bennett's lap. Bennett set his computer aside, bringing one hand to Jamie's hair, stroking it gently.

"She can't die," Jamie said softly. "I can't—I can't handle that—Not now—Not yet—"

"Let's focus on what we can do," Bennett said. He felt bizarrely calm and centered. "You can be on a plane down to see her in a few hours."

"It's going to cost so much—" Jamie said.

"Let me worry about that, okay?"

Jamie hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah," he said.

"Good," Bennett said. He reached over for his laptop, shifting awkwardly to balance it on his knee without knocking Jamie's head with it. "You fly in and out of Atlanta, right?"

"Yeah," Jamie said, his voice still weak. He sat up and leaned his head heavily on Bennett's shoulder. "Then I take a bus to Smithtown. That's where the hospital is."

"Perfect," Bennett said. "Can you do me a favor, darling, and start the coffee?" It was three in the morning but he knew there was no chance of either of them falling back to sleep. Jamie nodded and shuffled off into the kitchen.

It didn't take long to find and book two tickets from Linfield to Atlanta, leaving later that morning. Of course, they were absurdly expensive—Bennett had sent Jamie into the other room so he wouldn't see. Cost wasn't an issue for Bennett but he knew Jamie would balk.

He found Jamie in the kitchen, carefully measuring ground beans into the french press. He looked a little steadier now, and Bennett suspected that Jamie, like himself, did better when given a specific task to distract him from whatever was going on.

"Our flight leaves at nine," Bennett said, coming up behind Jamie and wrapping his arms around him. Jamie somehow felt more fragile, like his bones and sinew had turned to glass and tissue paper.

"Are you sure?" Jamie said, twisting around to face Bennett. His face was still tear-streaked, his eyes red-rimmed. "I… oh, fuck, what about your classes—fuck—we can't go—"

He was spiraling again, and Bennett silenced him with a brief kiss.

"Don't worry about me," Bennett said. "I'll make arrangements for my classes. And you can email the dean and explain what happened—you can get an arrangement worked out for any finals you're supposed to sit."

"Fuck, this is such a mess," Jamie said, burying his head in Bennett's chest. "I can't not go—"

"Jamie," Bennett said firmly. "You are going, and you don't need to feel guilty about it. I know it's stressful, but there's never a good time for this kind of thing to happen."

"I guess you're right," he said, letting out a long shaky breath.

Bennett disentangled himself from Jamie gently and set about finishing up coffee.

"We can swing by your place on the way to the airport and you can pack," Bennett said, pouring the boiling water into the press, watching the grounds swirl wildly through the water.

"Oh, right," Jamie said. "Wait, how are we—"

"I ordered a driver," Bennett said. "And I booked a rental car in Atlanta, too, so we don't have to bother with busses."

Bennett let the coffee brew for a moment and turned to find Jamie standing with his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking silently.

"Jamie—" Bennett said, folding him up in his arms.

Jamie looked up at him, tears still streaming down his face.

"You're so kind to me," Jamie said, before burying his face in Bennett's shirt. "I don't even know—if you weren't here—"

Because I love you, Bennett thought as he rubbed Jamie's back, but it wasn't the right time.

After a few moments, Jamie got himself collected, and they set about getting ready. Bennett left Jamie, who was staring out at the still-dark morning as he sipped his coffee, and threw some clothing in a carry-on bag. He dashed off a quick email to his classes, letting them know that office hours were cancelled but that he'd be available via email. It wasn't ideal but it would have to do.

The barest hints of dawn were just lightening the sky when the driver pulled up outside of Bennett's house. Jamie went wide-eyed as they slid inside—it was just a town car, but the inside of the car was plush and dark and expensive-looking.

"Whoa," Jamie said, clutching his backpack, and Bennett shrugged.

"I know it's a little over the top," he said, reaching across the leather seat and squeezing Jamie's hand. "Believe me, though, it wasn't much more than a taxi."

Jamie gave the driver his address, and they wound their way through the streets of Linfield, still dark and sleepy in the early morning. Bennett recognized some of the streets—the only time he was over in East Linfield was when Peter dragged them to bars in newly gentrified neighborhoods.

The house the driver pulled up in front of, though, had yet to be touched by aspirational renovations of well-meaning artists and hipsters. It looked like it was one strong breath away from falling over. It was oddly charming, in a storybook way, as though one might find an elderly witch brewing something in the kitchen or a kindly troll lurking under the stairs.

"You can just—wait here—" Jamie said hesitantly, one hand on the door.

"Are you sure?"

"Well—there's… a lot of stairs," Jamie said weakly.

"I'll be fine," Bennett said. His leg had been doing better, for the most part, and his pain meds had been the first thing he'd packed. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in rural Georgia without the proper medication.

"Er—okay—" Jamie said. Bennett knew Jamie was uncomfortable. He felt a little guilty, but he was intensely curious to see where Jamie lived and breathed and slept when he wasn't curled up in Bennett's bed or sprawled on his couch.

"It's not… nice like your place," Jamie said as he led Bennett up a rickety, weather-beaten flight of steps to the front door.

"I wouldn't care if you lived in a palace or a shoebox," Bennett said, watching Jamie fumble to unlock the door. Above them, a moth-spotted porchlight flickered.

"Stay quiet," Jamie whispered, pushing open the creaking door. "Sound carries and most of the other people are asleep."

Bennett followed Jamie up a flight of stairs, then another, then another, then another. By the time they were out of stairs, his leg was aching. The ceiling was low here, and Bennett had to incline his head slightly to keep from bumping it against the ceiling.

"Here we are," Jamie said grimly, unlocking the door at the top of the stairs and pushing it open.

"Oh, Jamie, it's lovely," Bennett said, as Jamie flipped the light on—and it was. It was just a tiny attic, barely bigger than Bennett's tiny living room, but Jamie had transformed it somehow. There was a cozy, neatly-made bed—just a mattress on the floor but oddly inviting—and all over the walls were dozens of photographs carefully arranged. While Jamie shoved clothing from the battered dresser into his battered backpack, Bennett carefully examined the photos.

"Did you take these?"

"Er, yeah," Jamie said.

"They're wonderful."

Bennett got lost in the photographs as Jamie packed. There were pictures of people he didn’t recognize, but based on the way Jamie had captured him, he desperately wanted to know them.

"Do you know all of these people?" Bennett asked. "These are… friends?"

"Some of them are, yeah," Jamie said. "Sometimes… it's a bit weird, I know but… sometimes if I just see someone that inspires me, I'll ask if I can take their photo. I usually only do that when I'm back in Welch because it's… it's my home, you know, so I'm not a total stranger. It's kind of been my dream to do that in Linfield."

"I wish I could have visited under better circumstances," Bennett said absently, looking at a series of photos of the Bellamy campus, transformed through Jamie's perceptive eye. "But I'm… looking forward to seeing where you're from?"

"Really?" Jamie said, straightening up and slinging onto his back. "It's… not very impressive."

"It's not about being impressive," Bennett said. "It's a part of your history and—I want to know it."

He faltered at the look on Jamie's face, that awed, overwhelmed look that he didn't quite know how to respond to.

"We should probably go," Bennett said gruffly. "Driver's waiting."

"Right," Jamie said.

Jamie was quiet and distracted on the long drive to the airport and through the security line. Bennett shepherded him to their gate, stopping for large coffees for both of them, and Jamie stared down at the spectacularly ugly geometric carpet as they waited for their flight.

"Doing okay?" Bennett said softly, reaching for Jamie's hand.

Jamie looked down at their joined hands then looked around, raising an eyebrow in question.

Bennett just squeezed his hand. He didn't care about what the people on some early morning flight from Linfield to Atlanta thought about his relationship.

He cared about Jamie.

"I'm… okay," Jamie said. "I keep trying to remind myself that right now I'm doing all I can do, you know? Freaking out about it isn't going to change anything."

"That's very wise," Bennett said.

"Thanks, Dad," Jamie said, rolling his eyes, and Bennett made a face.

"I just mean—at your age I didn't have much perspective on things like this. I would have been losing my mind."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Jamie said. "I am freaking out. I just… also am trying to remember that it won't actually do any good. Not that telling myself is working. Actually—while we still have a little time, I'm gonna call the hospital—"

He got up and wandered away, as if he'd already forgotten Bennett was there. Bennett watched as Jamie, across the terminal, ran his hands roughly through his hair again and again and again as he paced.

Jamie came back a few minutes later.

"Nothing new," he said, dropping down heavily into the seat beside Bennett. "She still hasn't woken up."

Bennett said nothing, just slung his arm around Jamie and pulled him close. Jamie sighed and relaxed down against Bennett, nestling into his shoulder.

"This is nice," Jamie whispered, and Bennett willed himself to keep his gaze down on Jamie's hair, flecked with gold even in the terrible airport lighting, to not look around and see if anyone was staring, judging.

Finally it was time to board, and again Bennett guided Jamie, bleary and still a little wild-eyed onto the plane.

"Wait," Jamie said, frowning, as Bennett pushed him gently towards their seats. "Did you get us… first class?"

"I got a free upgrade," Bennett said, shrugging. "I used to fly on this airline a lot."

Jamie made a noise Bennett didn't know how to interpret and settled into his seat by the window.

"These seats are… huge," he said, looking around.

"Well, not really, objectively speaking," Bennett said.

"Yeah, but I'm usually like, wedged up against the engine," Jamie said. He flipped the armrest between them up. "So, can I give you like, a mile high blowjob or something?"

Bennett's face flushed.

"Jamie," he said sternly.

"What?" Jamie said, batting his eyes innocently. "It's either this or think about my sick grandmother."

Thankfully, though, Jamie behaved himself on the flight. Bennett wasn't sure he could have handled the cognitive dissonance of having a massive erection while flying to visit the sick grandmother of his twenty-one-year-old boyfriend.

Jamie stayed quiet for most of the flight, resting his head on Bennett's shoulder while Bennett sipped the dark, bitter water that was being passed off as coffee. It was oddly meditative, to look out at the sun knifing over the horizon, feeling the plane shuddering around them, and feeling the heavy, solid weight of Jamie's head against him.

It wasn't a happy moment by any stretch of the word, but he wouldn't trade it for the world.

* * *

"Hey," Bennett said, catching Jamie's hand. "Deep breaths."

Jamie's fingertips had been performing a mad tap dance on the console of the rental car for the past few minutes as buildings of Atlanta began to blur into suburbs.

"You said two hours, right?" Bennett said. "Do you want to call the hospital again?"

"Nah," Jamie said, disentangling their fingers and pulling his feet up on the seat, lacing his arms around his knees. "They said they'd call if there were any changes."

"I know it's rough," Bennett said. "But we'll be there soon."

"It's—it's not that," Jamie said roughly.

"What is it then?" Bennett said, glancing at Jamie. Jamie was looking out at the highway whizzing by them, though, and Bennett couldn't see his expression to interpret it.

"Nevermind," Jamie said, shaking his head. "It's—it's nothing."

Bennett frowned, but he of all people knew that emotions were fickle, irrational things, and pushing Jamie to talk would probably only make him shut down. Jamie was good at expressing himself, and Bennett trusted that he would when he was ready.

The drive was uneventful. It had been a long time since Bennett had driven—he didn't have a car in Linfield, and the few times he'd needed one he could always ask Mo and Peter. Driving for long distances tended to make his leg hurt, but it had also been years since he last tried, and things seemed to have gotten slightly better.

Or perhaps he was so focused on Jamie that he didn't notice his own suddenly trivial aches and pains.

For some reason, when Jamie had said he was from a rural area, Bennett had always pictured a small, suburban outskirts kind of town with strip malls and fast food restaurants, where the PTA was the main scaffolding of the social hierarchy. As they drove, though, Bennett wondered why on earth he'd thought this—Jamie had mentioned he was from a tiny town, but it wasn't until they drove to the middle of nowhere that it really sunk in.

Bennett had been in far more rural places, of course—he'd spent time in villages only accessible by boat, where there had never been electricity and probably never would be, and everyone was just fine with that. He'd spent six years in the bubble of Linfield, though, and it was a sharp reminder that, while he'd been hiding out on the outskirts of the Bellamy campus, life had been continuing in its strange, usual ways.

"Take this next exit," Jamie said, and Bennett started. He'd thought Jamie had been asleep for most of the drive, but he must have just been looking out the window.

Bennett ignored his GPS and took the exit, which dumped him into the little city of Smithtown, population twenty thousand or so. The sign itself had been more specific.

"I came here when I was eight," Jamie said, his voice oddly distant, still looking out the window. "Right up at the next stoplight. I mean, I've been here a few times since then, but… I have these really vivid memories of being in the car with my mom. I broke my arm because I fell out of a tree, and there's this clinic in Welch but it wasn't open so my mom drove me here. It sucked but she took me for ice cream afterwards."

Bennett saw a large sign indicating that the Smithtown hospital was nearby, and pulled into the designated parking lot.

"Yeah, anywhere here is good," Jamie said. "And it was weird, because… even though it hurt and I was in all this pain… it's this… good memory, in my head? Because, you know, I got to spend time with my mom, just the two of us, and we got ice cream after, and she played games with me while we were waiting for my X-rays to come back."

Jamie trailed off as Bennett parked the car.

"You ready?" Bennett said.

"No," Jamie said, smiling weakly. "Yes, but no."

Bennett leaned across the car and pulled Jamie to him for a soft kiss. For a brief moment, Jamie melted against him, and Bennett tried to channel every bit of love and caring he could into their contact.

"Let's go," Bennett said.

Jamie seemed transformed when they got out of the car, as if he'd shelved his nerves and his fear in a box and hidden it far away. He grabbed Bennett's hand and held onto it tight, pulling him across the parking lot.

"Is this okay?" Bennett said, squeezing Jamie's hand. "Here, I mean?"

"I don't give a shit," Jamie said fiercely. "You're my boyfriend, and I'm an orphan visiting my sick grandma in the hospital. If someone has an issue, they can bite my gay ass."

Bennett laughed. He felt another warm bloom of love for Jamie, this charming, vulnerable, wonderfully fearless boy.

Jamie did drop Bennett's hand, though, when they got to the front desk.

"Hi," Jamie said. "I'm here to see Agnes Dupree. I'm her grandson, James Larsson—I should be on a list or something."

"Sure, honey," the receptionist said, somehow managing to type something on her computer despite her long, immaculately manicured acrylic fingernails. "She's up on the second floor in 2F. Turn right out of the elevator. Visiting hours are until eight."

"Thanks," said Jamie, and she gave them two visitor passes. He followed Jamie to the elevator, which was painfully slow and seemed almost arthritic, like at any moment it might just shudder to a stop and never move again.

"Wow," Jamie said, looking around the elevator at the scuffed linoleum under their feet. "It's… been a while since I've been here. I remember when I was eight, this seemed like the fanciest place in the whole world—like, space age almost. Now it just looks… kinda shitty."

His cheeks were flushed slightly. Around them, the elevator shook and groaned.

"I'd never noticed your accent before," Bennett said with a small smile, and Jamie looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "I think it… reappeared when you were talking to the receptionist."

"Oh god," Jamie said, clapping a hand over his mouth. "It's… probably only going to get worse from here on out, I’m just going to warn you."

"I think it's sweet," Bennett said, bringing his hand to rest on Jamie's lower back for a moment. The elevator halted and dinged, announcing they'd arrived on the second floor at last—it definitely would have been much quicker to take the stairs.

"Okay," Jamie said, letting out a long, measured breath. "Let's do this."

They checked in at the nurse station opposite the elevator bank.

"Hi," Jamie said, rather breathlessly. Bennett lingered behind him, feeling rather useless. "I'm here to see Agnes? The lady downstairs said she was in… 2F?"

"Oh, are you Jamie?" the woman said. "I don't know if you remember me, sweetie, but I knew your mom—I'm Winona—Jilly's mom?"

"Right, yeah," Jamie said, nodding. "Yeah, Jilly was a few years below me in school."

"It's good to see you again," Winona said. "You're so grown up now! How is your fancy college life?"

"Er—good—um, do you know if my grandma is awake?" Jamie said as politely as he could.

"Oh, right," she said, getting up from the desk and coming around to them, leading them down the hallway. "She woke up a few hours ago. She's stable, but I wanna warn you, honey, she did suffer some effects from the stroke. It seems like she can understand everything we say, but she's having trouble speaking."

"Okay," Jamie said, nodding seriously.

"She's right in there. If she's asleep, you're welcome to stay until she wakes up again." She gave his shoulder a little squeeze and returned to her desk.

Jamie hesitated at the doorway, squeezing his eyes shut and drawing a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, he seemed like he'd centered himself a bit.

"Okay," he said again, softly, mostly to himself this time.

He knocked on the frame of the open door, the same soft little rap Bennett recognized from the many times Jamie had dropped into his office. To Bennett, the sound's cheerful associations were incongruous with their sterile, bleach-scented surroundings.

"Grandma?" Jamie said. "It's Jaybird."

The room was dimly lit, and the woman in the bed—Agnes, Jamie's grandma, whom Bennett had heard so much about, was sitting up, looking shriveled and frail amongst the stiff, impersonal sheets.

Jamie inhaled sharply, stifling a little sob.

She smiled, but the stroke's effects were clear—half her face remained slack.

"Oh, Grandma," Jamie said, hurrying to her side and looping his arms around her gently. "I was so worried—"

Bennett hovered by the doorway. He wished he'd asked Jamie if he should wait in the hallway—it felt like such an intimate moment, suddenly, but he couldn't leave now.

She was trying to say something, but her voice was soft and slurred, and Bennett couldn't make out the words. Jamie inclined his head, listening intently, then smiled, looking shyly over at Bennett.

"That's Bennett," Jamie said. "He's… my boyfriend. He came with me to visit you."

"Nice to meet you," Bennett said, for lack of anything better to say. Jamie's grandma lifted her hand, gesturing for him to come closer, and Bennett joined Jamie at the side of her bed. She held out her hand and he took it. Her skin was cold and dry, and she gave it a weak squeeze.

"I'll—give you some privacy," Bennett said to Jamie, and Jamie nodded. Bennett went to kiss him but stopped himself, instead clapping Jamie awkwardly on the back.

Bennett wandered downstairs, avoiding the ominous elevator this time. There was a small newsstand in the lobby, but all the flowers were sad and wilting and didn't seem to be the best symbol of recovery.

He ended up outside, on some deserted smoking patio. Though it was mid-December, it was a relatively mild day—cold without being brutally so. The clouds were high and light gray, and the dead grass between the paving stones rattled in the breeze.

Bennett checked his phone, sighed, and set about answering the panicked emails from his students that had piled up while he'd been traveling.