Chapter 30 (falling action)

Warning: slight smut

Christian

Days passed painfully slowly. He went on walks and ordered food and swam in the pool and tried to make music, but nothing was the same. He felt a tugging feeling in his chest that begged the question, 'What am I doing here?'

And he didn't know.

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Mitchel stared out of the window as he sat on the edge of their bed. He'd been doing the same thing for the long hours of the day ever since they'd arrived in the big city. He said nothing as he looked. He didn't point out the geese that migrated back to their home from the south. He didn't talk about the rain that fell from giant greyish-blue clouds. He didn't mention how the weather had gotten warmer and the sun peaked out of the dark clouds and the snow was starting to melt.

He was like a stone wall during the day. At night, however, it was different.

Mitchel

He didn't know what he was looking for, but it was in the sky. He saw Molly sometimes, and when Christian asked what he was looking at, he didn't reply.

Christian was patient with him. He never pushed him. He never pried or asked why he was so focused on the window, and he wondered why not.

Mitchel wondered why he left him alone during the day and went about his as if it were just like any other. He wondered why he returned to the hotel room a few hours after a swim and a walk and the first thing he did was sit next to him and hug him.

He wondered why Christian didn't leave him. Why he always returned. Mitchel knew that he wouldn't have.

During the day he looked out of the window. At night he approached Christian. Every time, they would start as just laying together. They'd intertwine their fingers and press kisses on each other's skin. And then it would turn into something more.

Something that slept during the day would awaken inside Mitchel and he'd lose all means of self-control. He'd touch Christian- not feel him. He'd run his hands down the surface of his stomach and pull his clothes off and push them out of the way.

They'd kiss and bite and whisper to each other. They'd make empty promises and talk about love and how good they felt. They'd cry and thrust and moan for hours on end and they'd do it again the next night.

It was the only thing that Mitchel held onto because he knew that he was losing himself every day. It was the only thing that he felt: he lived and breathed for Christian. He was his God, his Saint.

He craved to hear the sound of the only man he ever loved moaning his name- that was his blessing.

Christian

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mitchel mewled as he gripped onto the back of Christian's head, his fingers tugging at his dark blond hair. The dull pain sent shocks through his scalp but it felt too good for him to ask the older man to stop.

Mitchel laid underneath him with his head pressed into his pillow and his legs spread and wrapped around his hips as he thrusted deep into him, the tip of his cock pressing against his prostate with every rhythmic thrust.

His best friend didn't even try to suppress the lewd moans that escaped his lips or hide his erotic facial expressions. He let his eyes roll to the ceiling and his spine arch as the tight knot beneath his stomach snapped and he begged for Christian to allow him to cum.

The scene was almost too much for him and he never got used to it no matter how many times he and Mitchel fucked. He never forgot the lust that rolled off of his skin or the way he called his name. His tears of pure pleasure and joy never left his mind because he'd see it every night.

The man underneath him released thick white cum over both of their stomachs before he could allow him to finish and despite how he twitched and whined underneath him, he didn't stop.

"Christian- ah!" Mitchel cried as he dug his fingers into the flushed skin of his shoulders. Christian clenched his teeth from the pain and felt his thrusts get sloppier as the seconds passed. It wasn't long before he released into Mitchel's clenching hole with a high-pitched groan, his vision blurring from the pleasure.

Christian crumpled on top of the older man, enjoying the way his chest rose and fell as his breathing steadied. He listened to Mitchel as he whispered and mumbled his incoherent thoughts and clung to him like a leech.

Christian knew that Mitchel's emotions were all over the place. He didn't blame him. Mitchel was dealing with a lot. So was he. There was the stress about the murder and the constant worry for each other's well-being. Christian hated the idea of Mitchel being sent to jail and being caught. He heated it more that Mitchel worried about him. He knew that he had Molly on his mind. He sometimes heard him whisper her name. He saw it in his eyes, too. They flicked from left and right and searched outside the window. He was looking for her but he'd never find her.

Christian knew that despite his recent routine, Mitchel was unpredictable. He always was, even when they were younger. That's how they made such good music and an even better team.

The last thing that Christian expected was to hear Mitchel cry. At first, it was just a sniffle. But then he turned to look at him and saw tears run from his eyes and down the sides of his face and onto his pillow. They welled in fat drops and hit the pillow with light thuds, and despite how often Mitchel cried, he couldn't imagine what it was that was enough to make him cry then. Was it frustration? Was the sex just that good?

He slid his arms around Mitchel's thin frame, feeling a small pang in his stomach when he felt just how thin the man had gotten.

"What's wrong, love?" He asked him. Mitchel laid with his arms stretched out. His eyes were red and puffy, and he cried silent ugly tears. Just seeing him upset was enough to make Christian's throat dry and spring salty liquid in his own eyes.

"You said forever, Kras," He said between silent sobs and gasps.

"I did," he agreed.

"I can't do it, Kras, I promised and you promised, but I can't do it."

"Can't do what, Mitty?"

"I can't"

A lump was developing in his chest and he couldn't think of what to do to get it to stop swelling. Before he could stop it, Christian was crying too. He didn't know what Mitchel was talking about. All he knew was that he didn't want him to leave him. He didn't want to leave Mitchel. He wanted to be with him, his best friend, forever.

He wanted things to go back to normal, but he knew that they never would. Mitchel changed their history and their story as soon as he stepped into Molly's apartment. He changed their future long before then. Christian was helpless because he knew that he was just a side character in Mitchel's story. Mitchel called the shots. It was Mitchel's world and he was just living in it. He was just unlucky enough to fall for him.

Mitchel's arms wrapped around his head and he held him close. Christian knew that he was supposed to be the one comforting the man underneath him, but somehow it was him that ended up breaking.