Josiah obviously realized Tristan wasn’t going to reply. “I work at five this morning. You couldn’t sleep?”

“I never sleep. And God forbid you miss a morning of walking or feeding your birds. You’re very loyal.”

Josiah shrugged. “I do it because I want to, not because I have to. They depend on it now, and I won’t let them down.”

The whole time he considered what he was about to do, Tristan cursed himself. His dream reminded him of where he stood in life, yet he still stepped forward and cupped Josiah’s cheek. “The way you’ve been let down?”

No hesitation. Just wide, honest eyes when he said, “Yes. But I’ve had loyalty, too. Not often, but from a few people, so I can’t really complain.”

Finger to wrist. One, two, three, four, five. Jesus, this man would really kill him. Tristan stepped away, but Josiah reached out, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “Will you go with me?” he asked.

Tristan closed his eyes, and replied, “Yes.”

That was the beginning of their morning walks again. Tristan couldn’t go every day, but he went when he could. And missed it when he couldn’t.

Still, he kept the dream in his mind. Kept the past present in his head, because he wanted Josiah, when the only times he’d been with people in his past, even Ben, it had been because he wanted sex. His mother had wanted Oliver, and he turned her onto the streets. He gave her drugs that she hardly escaped from. Tristan could never give himself to someone like that.

But they still walked. And talked. And ate dinner together at night.

It took three months for the question to come from Josiah. They stood together at the counter, after dinner. “I want you again...” Tristan silenced Josiah with his mouth. That one statement had been all it took. The whole time, a quiet voice in the back of Tristan’s mind whispered, “why did it take you so long to ask?”

Time passed, and it went from three months to two. Then monthly, biweekly. Now, a week didn’t go by that Tristan didn’t visit Josiah’s bed at least once, sometimes more. He fucked him and held him and talked to him in a way he’d never done with anyone. But always, always, he ended the night with a kiss to Josiah’s lips before going to his own bed.

And there had been no one else since he stared fucking Josiah. No one came to see Josiah, either, except his friend Elliot. Those were things Tristan pretended he didn’t notice.

The weather had already turned cold and started to warm up again, the days and months flying by.

Josiah shivered as they walked by the water, the sun yellow in the distance. “How are you cold?” Tristan asked him.

“Because it’s six in the morning, during spring in San Francisco,” he laughed. The wind kicked up and blew his hair into his face. Tristan almost pushed it back but remembered Josiah got uncomfortable when people touched his hair.

“You’re from New York. That’s cold. Not this.”

“You’re from there, too!” Josiah countered.

“Yet, I’m not cold.”

It was Josiah who pushed his own hair from his face this time. “I like it. I’m glad you grew it,” Tristan found himself saying. He didn’t let himself focus on that, just waited for Josiah’s reply.

“It used to be blonder. I didn’t expect it to grow in so much darker.”

A burn landed in his chest. He rubbed his hand there, wishing he had an antacid. His hair was another thing that had to do with Josiah’s ex-lover. He didn’t need Josiah to tell him to know it.

His phone cut off any chance of a reply. Tristan pulled it from his pocket, groaning when he saw Ben’s name show up. He hit ignore before pushing it into his pocket again.

“Who was that?” Josiah asked.

“And old friend,” he replied. There was no reason he couldn’t tell Josiah about Ben, and wasn’t sure why he didn’t.

Ben was fascinated by Josiah, though.

Because he’s lived with me for nearly two and a half years. Because he could tell Tristan was fucking him. Because he saw Josiah was different to him.

“Are you going to see your mom before work?” Josiah asked, changing the subject. He knew Tristan’s mom was here. Knew he helped take care of her, but that was all Tristan could bring himself to tell him.

“Yes.” They both stopped walking, Josiah looking up at him, his eyes probing, searching like they always did. What do you want? You already have more of me than anyone ever has.

“Have a good day,” he said.

Tristan nodded. “Thanks.” And then he turned away. Walked, before he kissed him goodbye. It was one thing when he left Josiah’s bed. In public would be totally different.