staying dark, being dark, embracing the dark
Matt had gone along with Tate to the jail, although he had to wait outside, and although Tate had insisted on paying for the car, and paid for the car to wait to take them back. Between that viral YouTube poll and his bonus from Chris, Tate had enough cash to feel independent for the first time, even if it wouldn't last. They hadn't been sure how long a bail payment would take -- would Talon be able to leave with them today? Would they have to come back tomorrow?
As soon as Matt could see Tate approaching, he knew something awful had happened. At first Tate wouldn't even greet him, wouldn't talk, just sat in the car without moving, without touching, without telling the car where to go. Matt decided to quietly wait with him, patiently, he's practicing submission with Tate all of a sudden, and also giving Tate space to explore all of his options as a young adult.
Matt saw some tears welling and dripping from his lover's -- his new Sir's face.
A few minutes went by, no words.
Tate ordered the car to take them back to Matt's house. Then he finally opened up, but only fractionally, his disappointment was too large a volume to move through his vocal cords. "Ma's lawyer told her to accept a plea deal, so she did, so I can't bail her out, so I can't fix my eyes yet."
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Tate, that sucks." Matt had known a plea deal was a likely outcome, but hadn't heard it was imminent. There were no electronic communications with prisoners, and lawyers don't discuss details if you aren't the client.
Then Tate resumed silence. Matt fully expected Tate to break down and collapse into him, was waiting for Tate to scream and whack him in the chest, like he usually would when life didn't go his way. But this was too big. Tate must be in shock. What should Matt do? Should he reach out and hold Tate's hand? Matt didn't know Tate had already thrown a fit inside the visitors area, and had been physically restrained.
Better to ask. Matt asked, as gently as he could, "What do you want me to do? I can sit here quietly with you if you want. Or I can ... do anything you need."
Tate shook his head, "No, let's go home." Heartbroken, headbroken, gutbroken, Tate hadn't believed his Mom could be found guilty, it wasn't possible, and now she'd given up. He'd gone from feeling independent for the first time in his life, to feeling there's nothing at all worth doing. Three years. How could they take three years of her life. Later at the house, Tate asked to sleep by himself in a guest room, and went to lie down by himself.
The next morning, he said he wanted to rent a beach house by himself and spend a week by himself. No indoor surveillance, he knew Alex would put up some sort of perimeter, or Chris would as his legal guardian; these billionaires would never truly allow him to get lost, but he wanted to be alone. Let me have a week to myself. No emails, texts, or calls. I'll be fine, I just need time to myself. Matt can't help but hug Tate as he gets in the car to depart. What happened to his touchy-feely overly-emotive Tate? Give him some time, Alex said. You've given me time when I needed it. Give him time. He's not your boy anymore, he's your Sir now, you give him what he needs, what he says he needs.
As soon as Matt could see Tate approaching, he knew something awful had happened. At first Tate wouldn't even greet him, wouldn't talk, just sat in the car without moving, without touching, without telling the car where to go. Matt decided to quietly wait with him, patiently, he's practicing submission with Tate all of a sudden, and also giving Tate space to explore all of his options as a young adult.
Matt saw some tears welling and dripping from his lover's -- his new Sir's face.
A few minutes went by, no words.
Tate ordered the car to take them back to Matt's house. Then he finally opened up, but only fractionally, his disappointment was too large a volume to move through his vocal cords. "Ma's lawyer told her to accept a plea deal, so she did, so I can't bail her out, so I can't fix my eyes yet."
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Tate, that sucks." Matt had known a plea deal was a likely outcome, but hadn't heard it was imminent. There were no electronic communications with prisoners, and lawyers don't discuss details if you aren't the client.
Then Tate resumed silence. Matt fully expected Tate to break down and collapse into him, was waiting for Tate to scream and whack him in the chest, like he usually would when life didn't go his way. But this was too big. Tate must be in shock. What should Matt do? Should he reach out and hold Tate's hand? Matt didn't know Tate had already thrown a fit inside the visitors area, and had been physically restrained.
Better to ask. Matt asked, as gently as he could, "What do you want me to do? I can sit here quietly with you if you want. Or I can ... do anything you need."
Tate shook his head, "No, let's go home." Heartbroken, headbroken, gutbroken, Tate hadn't believed his Mom could be found guilty, it wasn't possible, and now she'd given up. He'd gone from feeling independent for the first time in his life, to feeling there's nothing at all worth doing. Three years. How could they take three years of her life. Later at the house, Tate asked to sleep by himself in a guest room, and went to lie down by himself.
The next morning, he said he wanted to rent a beach house by himself and spend a week by himself. No indoor surveillance, he knew Alex would put up some sort of perimeter, or Chris would as his legal guardian; these billionaires would never truly allow him to get lost, but he wanted to be alone. Let me have a week to myself. No emails, texts, or calls. I'll be fine, I just need time to myself. Matt can't help but hug Tate as he gets in the car to depart. What happened to his touchy-feely overly-emotive Tate? Give him some time, Alex said. You've given me time when I needed it. Give him time. He's not your boy anymore, he's your Sir now, you give him what he needs, what he says he needs.