Temp loosens his grip on Cillian Quinn.

Not to pull away, never, but only so he can raise a hand to trace the curve of the other's lips, cover Gavin's hands with his own.

"Why wouldn't you be able to?"

It's one of those questions Gavin doesn't have to answer, not really.

A gentle squeeze.

There's anxiety in the fold of his frown when Tempest Quinn loosens his grip; for a moment, Gavin is sure that he's said the wrong thing. That this will be another ending.

A finger traces lips that tremble beneath their touch.

"He — I-I lost him, over this. Over — something, I don't know what I did."

I don't know why I wasn't good enough to make him stay.

"I know this isn't — I'm not trying to... fuck."

Gavin Merlino, ordinarily so eloquent, struggles to find the words.

"I don't want to lose anyone else."

Hands trace up Cillian Quinn's arms, rest on his shoulders.

Pull him into a hug.

"I don't think you could do anything to 'lose me'."

A small laugh, to try and break the tension. Temp tries brush their noses together.

"You're kind of, like, fucked up, but I'm kind of into that, so it's not really a huge deal for me, you feel me? So, like, his loss."

"I didn't think I'd lose them, either."

He was suffering from the loss of two people who'd meant the world to him. Emma had been his own fault but Theo... Gavin didn't understand where he'd went wrong, not really. I'm separating us, Cillian.

"How can you know that for sure? You don't even know my name."

It slips out in his stress, with the memory of their last conversation in his thoughts.

"Theo knew." Practically a whisper. Gavin's shaking with the effort of holding back his emotion. "And he told me he loved me and he still—"

He breaks off with a shuddering intake of breath.

There is a horrible clenching in Temp's chest.

Unable to hold back, he wraps his arms around Cillian Quinn and squeezes. Guide his face to his shoulder. Does anything he can to give him some slim bit of comfort.

"I don't care about names, bro, I care about you. Don't care if your name is Shirley. You're the you that you are and that's who I care about." That's who I want.

He keeps his hold, determined to be the rock his friend could weather this storm on.

"Did he really love you if he could hurt you this way, dude? You don't hurt people you love."

I care about you.

The strangled noise that escapes him is a sob without tears; his eyes are dry because that's what he's been taught, but his shoulders shake as Tempest Quinn draws him close. Gavin thinks that if Temp let go, he'd fall apart.

"I hurt someone I care about," he protests. "I love Emma, but I can't—"

I just can't be with you.

Is this how Theo had felt, too?

"It's Cillian," he says softly, voice shaking. "My name. My real one."

"Here, Cillian, look at me." Soft but firm, a guiding hand to try and ease the burden of his friend.

"You hurt Emma." And there wasn't any shying away from that. He was going to make him feel better but he wasn't going to lie to him.

"You also love her, right?"

That wasn't the important part of this, though.

"But did you ever think you can't love her like she needs? And maybe Theo can't love you like you needed, too. It's all kinds of messed up, dude, but it don't make any of you bad for that. Loving someone and not giving them what they need is worse than breaking their heart."

Of that Temp was sure. He had loved Alexei Ivanov once upon a time, years ago. But, in the end, he hadn't been able to love him like he needed. Any flings, flames, or flirts- Temp knew deep down he would never be able to give them back all that they deserved the same way. The harder, better choice was to let them go in the end.

Cillian.

The sound of his name is almost enough to shatter him. He looks, and for the first time in years — decades — his eyes shine with tears.

"It's why I haven't gone back. To her."

He thinks she might've taken him back if he had; how many times had they argued over the decisions he'd made only for Emma to fold, to give in because she wanted to keep Gavin in her life more than she wanted him to change?

Maybe Theo can't love you like you needed, too.

"I'm afraid that — that no one ever will."

Tears are a sign of weakness—

He is weak, and lonely, surprisingly fragile in Tempest Quinn's arms. Tears fall and his cheeks are flushed with shame but he doesn't pull away, grips the other's hand like a lifeline as he buries his face in the crook of Temp's neck to hide his weakness.

I'm afraid that — that no one ever will.

Cillian Quinn's tears are what finally does it.

It's like in a movie he saw when he was a kid, a special trip to the movies. A Deerling had used magic to bring spring to a barren land. The ending scene stuck with him the most. A brown and dead land is transformed in a wave, blossoming flowers and grass spreading from a magic crystal fountain.

That's what his heart feels like now. The damn has snapped, his own repressed feelings flooding out and rushing over every facet of who he is and what he could be.

Memories shift into a new light, his own interactions with Gavin cast into something clearer.

"I.... I love you." For a moment, he sounds just as stunned as Gavin might be from hearing the words. Then, firmer, more sure. "I love you."

For Gavin, the imagery is more violent, more visceral.

It's like being punched in the stomach, a vacuum where his lungs should be as the confession steals his breath. It's that same feeling of being stunned in the aftermath of such a strike, mouth open with no sound escaping.

It's the way Temp says it that lets him know it's that sort of love; not the way he loved Chu-e Choi or Lulu Flint and Rowan Wrynn but the way he'd loved Emma, the intensity of his feelings for Theo, for—

For Tempest Quinn.

Breath floods back in a shaky inhale that leaves him dizzy, light-headed.

Some might insist that it was too soon, that you couldn't fall in love so quickly after so much heartbreak, but Temp — Temp has always been there for him when he needs it the most, even when Gavin hadn't realized it.

He draws back, tears on full display now as they wet his cheeks.

"Even — even though I'm 'kind of fucked up'?" It's strangled with tears but it's hopeful, too, that there might be light in the darkness. He laughs, sniffs, shakes his head. "I-I mean I — you're not just... saying it?"

To make me feel better?

"Yeah."

A confirmation, not just for Cillian Quinn, but for himself.

"Yeah."

Gentle fingers raise to try and brush tears away. Temp's brown eyes shine with- something. He doens't have words. All he knows is that, at this moment, even if Gavin is tear streaked and crying naked in his arms, is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life.

"I'm kind of into that."

No person is perfect.

"I love you, Cillian."

But they became perfect when you accepted them for what they were.

And, damn, hadn't Temp always done that with him?

I love you, Cillian.

Cillian. Not the name of the pretender, but his own.

A love without conditions, without the crushing weight of but at its heels.

He'll always love them, he thinks. Always miss them. But,

"I love you, too."

This time there's something gentle in the way Gavin's hand curves around Tempest Quinn's neck, exploring where it had once sought only to possess. Fingers thread through brown hair in a tender caress.

The brush of his lips is soft, at first, with a graze of teeth at the end.

"Just because I can."

The kiss feels sweeter, different from all the other kisses before it.

His own hands cup Cillian Quinn's face, gentle, thumbs brushing over his cheeks and under his eyes. Ridding the other of both tear streaks while also giving in to the urge to touch.

There is a bubbling in his veins, fizzy and syrupy and warm, and suddenly Temp wishes that he hadn't used the time before this trying to tire Gavin out for a much needed nap. He wants to be with him again, without pretense, to make love instead of chase baser desires.

But, later, there will always be time now.

"I love you." He repeats out, almost dumbly, just to taste the words on his tongue. Get used to the weight of them. "I love you, I love you, I love you!"