“At a hotel. I came straight here, and they went to our room.”

“I thought you never planned to come to New York again. How many times have you said that?”

Tristan turned to look at him. “Yet I was here a few months ago. You know that as well as I do.”

Ben chuckled humorlessly. “That doesn’t count because it was for them.”

Tristan shook his head, looking sad. It was a different sadness than Ben was used to from him. This wasn’t pain for himself. It was pain for Ben and that ate a hole through him.

“It’s time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself, don’t you think? Christ, it smells like a bar in here. How much are you drinking?” Tristan pulled out a kitchen chair and sat.

“I have bourbon, would you like a drink?” Ben said as his reply.

“Sit down, Ben.”

“We went over this last time you were here. I don’t take orders from you anymore, remember?”

Tristan closed his eyes, and shook his head before asking, “Please?”

It wasn’t something that Tristan said often. Ben found himself walking over to the table and sitting across from his oldest friend. Thank you, lingered on his tongue. Tristan had come here for him. It was maybe the only thing Tristan had ever done for Ben.

“We need to talk,” Tristan told him.

Ben looked at him, at the man he’d loved for too many years to count...and he wasn’t sure what he felt. It was the first time he’d looked at Tristan since college and not known how he felt.

“I’ve been a terrible friend to you. I know we’ve discussed that before, but I want to make sure you know I realize that. You’ve always been there for me, even when I pushed you away. I’m here for you now, Ben. Whatever you need. I’m here for you.”

Ben didn’t look away. Didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure what to even say. Hearing those words, seeing Tristan there, they weren’t something Ben ever expected. He waited for the hunger to set in, the need he’d always felt for the man but it didn’t take root.

“The man from the club...you’ve never spoken to me about anyone the way you’ve spoken about him.”

Ben chuckled. He never really spoke to Tristan about any guy unless it was to tell him he’d fucked someone in an attempt to elicit some jealousy. “We were never very good at talking.”

“You were better than me. You talked but I’m realizing now that you never really said anything. Nothing real. I thought it was only me, but you’ve been hiding too, haven’t you?”

Yes, yes he had been.

“I always thought you were okay. I knew you dealt with shit and I knew you had your skeletons. We all do, but I was too busy trying to forget about my own that I didn’t pay attention to yours. I didn’t see that maybe you have even more than I do.”

That was the truth, he did. Ben was maybe the best chameleon of them all. He played the game where Tristan never tried. He’d pretended to give Tristan pieces of himself, pretended that he gave Tristan more than Tristan gave him, but had he really?

“You can talk to me,” Tristan said. “I’m here.”

Months ago he would have done anything for those words...or maybe he thought he would have. He appreciated them now but they didn’t change anything. They didn’t unlock the pain that Ben kept shut away. “Thank you.” Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you. But I can’t.”

Tristan gave him a brief nod. It was Tristan’s thing. He’d done it as long as Ben had known him.

“You need to let go of the past. It’s the only way. I know it’s hard. I still struggle with it but it helps. Let go, Ben.” Tristan’s words came out soft, emotional. Ben could tell how much he felt what he said. Tristan was speaking from experience. And he was speaking from his heart, to Ben.

If you love me, you’ll do it. Don’t you love me?

Bonnie.

“That’s your weakness. You are a fuckin’ maricone and you want one of the fags giving it to Mateo.” Javier bent closer to his. “Yeah, I’ll definitely make you watch then. You can watch him get fucked. Watch him bleed and know you’re too much of a fuckin’ pussy to save him.”

Javier.

Then his mom pushed her way in—her pain. And his father—his selfishness. Ben shook his head, wanting the thoughts gone. “What if I can’t?”

“You can,” Tristan replied simply. “It won’t be easy but you can. I did.” He shifted in the chair. “That guy from the club, I don’t know who he is to you but I know what I hear. I remember how I felt with Josiah and then Mateo. Tell him. Tell him the way I told them. It helps.”