The Beginning After the End
by metafic
It's February when you come back. It's cold as hell and you didn't really want to be in Columbus, but at least it's not Holland. That's all that matters right now, you tell yourself. It's not Holland. It's not Heerenveen. It's another chance, one more than you think you probably deserve, and you can't fuck this one up.
It starts because you're bored and there's nothing on TV. Tim's at his girlfriend's again and Maryland's out of March Madness and you can't bring yourself to watch another World Series of Poker. So when Danny takes the remote from the table and flops onto the couch next to you, you don't mind. He keeps stealing glances at you out of the corner of his eye and almost speaking, and if there's one thing Danny is, it's not subtle.
"I'm okay, Danny."
He turns and finally looks at you full-on. "What?"
"I'm fine. You don't have to, like, take care of me. Or whatever. I'm okay."
He nods, but he doesn't say anything and you can tell he doesn't believe you. You're about to explain, to tell him the whole story that you haven't told anyone else, but then you realize the last thing you want to do is talk. To relive the whole thing, the last six months you moved back here to forget. You lean forward and kiss him, a little tentatively and then harder as he opens his mouth under yours. He pulls you closer, until you're almost straddling him, his hands on your waist and your fingers in his hair, pressing on the back of his neck. It's either too long or not long enough since you did this, and you close your eyes and remind yourself to stop thinking as he pushes his fingers under your shirt, slowly pulling it off.
***
You kind of hate yourself for hooking up with Danny as quickly as you do. But he's there, and he makes it easy on you. He doesn't ask anything of you, really. You don't talk much, and you definitely don't talk about the future. You know he's leaving for Europe as soon as he can, that you're just a distraction until something better comes along.
You know he's going to leave you, but you prefer it that way. At least you know that going in; you know this is temporary and you won't let yourself think that he loves you. You make out on the couch and fuck in your bedrooms, and you pull his hair when he comes and try not to think of the last boy you fucked in Holland.
***
"Marc told me to take care of you." He sort of murmurs it against your ear, the last night you spend in his bed, in August, right before he leaves. Everything else in his room is packed up, in boxes with his mom's handwriting on them, going to New Jersey or Spain or storage. You'll move downtown in the fall, and it'll be like neither of you was there.
You're half-asleep, idly stroking his back, and you blink. "What?"
"Before he went to DC. He said to look out for you." He kisses your neck, almost gently, grinning against your skin and you shudder a little.
"Why?" You pull him a little closer, and even if you don't love him, you're going to miss him.
"He didn't say. He just said if anything bad happened to you, he'd come kick my ass."
You lean down, pulling him up a little to kiss you slowly. "He had nothing to worry about."
He smiles, trying to stifle a yawn and settling against your chest. You wrap your arms around him and he closes his eyes. It's not love, but it's what you need.
Notes: Takes place from February to August 2007. Thanks to parka_girl and onthetouchline.
It's February when you come back. It's cold as hell and you didn't really want to be in Columbus, but at least it's not Holland. That's all that matters right now, you tell yourself. It's not Holland. It's not Heerenveen. It's another chance, one more than you think you probably deserve, and you can't fuck this one up.
It starts because you're bored and there's nothing on TV. Tim's at his girlfriend's again and Maryland's out of March Madness and you can't bring yourself to watch another World Series of Poker. So when Danny takes the remote from the table and flops onto the couch next to you, you don't mind. He keeps stealing glances at you out of the corner of his eye and almost speaking, and if there's one thing Danny is, it's not subtle.
"I'm okay, Danny."
He turns and finally looks at you full-on. "What?"
"I'm fine. You don't have to, like, take care of me. Or whatever. I'm okay."
He nods, but he doesn't say anything and you can tell he doesn't believe you. You're about to explain, to tell him the whole story that you haven't told anyone else, but then you realize the last thing you want to do is talk. To relive the whole thing, the last six months you moved back here to forget. You lean forward and kiss him, a little tentatively and then harder as he opens his mouth under yours. He pulls you closer, until you're almost straddling him, his hands on your waist and your fingers in his hair, pressing on the back of his neck. It's either too long or not long enough since you did this, and you close your eyes and remind yourself to stop thinking as he pushes his fingers under your shirt, slowly pulling it off.
***
You kind of hate yourself for hooking up with Danny as quickly as you do. But he's there, and he makes it easy on you. He doesn't ask anything of you, really. You don't talk much, and you definitely don't talk about the future. You know he's leaving for Europe as soon as he can, that you're just a distraction until something better comes along.
You know he's going to leave you, but you prefer it that way. At least you know that going in; you know this is temporary and you won't let yourself think that he loves you. You make out on the couch and fuck in your bedrooms, and you pull his hair when he comes and try not to think of the last boy you fucked in Holland.
***
"Marc told me to take care of you." He sort of murmurs it against your ear, the last night you spend in his bed, in August, right before he leaves. Everything else in his room is packed up, in boxes with his mom's handwriting on them, going to New Jersey or Spain or storage. You'll move downtown in the fall, and it'll be like neither of you was there.
You're half-asleep, idly stroking his back, and you blink. "What?"
"Before he went to DC. He said to look out for you." He kisses your neck, almost gently, grinning against your skin and you shudder a little.
"Why?" You pull him a little closer, and even if you don't love him, you're going to miss him.
"He didn't say. He just said if anything bad happened to you, he'd come kick my ass."
You lean down, pulling him up a little to kiss you slowly. "He had nothing to worry about."
He smiles, trying to stifle a yawn and settling against your chest. You wrap your arms around him and he closes his eyes. It's not love, but it's what you need.
Notes: Takes place from February to August 2007. Thanks to parka_girl and onthetouchline.