Things He'll Never Say

There are things he won't ever say out loud, especially to Jeremy. Things that will undoubtedly endow upon Jeremy the sense of trust he's been searching for. Make him believe in Tyler so much more. And no matter how much he wants to say them, and how much he would mean them, if he did, he doesn't. Because that's not who he is. That's not what he does. The words are too sharp, too corny, and they will sound wrong coming out of his mouth. He does tell him he loves him, and Jeremy is content with that, because he knows that he's not just saying it for sex, or in an attempt to satisfy him. He knows that Tyler means it.

Jeremy doesn't mind. He doesn't mind much of anything. He wakes up in a queen-sized bed, his face buried into Tyler's chest. He takes cold showers in their three-bedroom apartment, the water like freezing needles, eats imitation-brand chocolate rice krispies, and kisses Tyler goodbye while he sleeps. He leaves their cozy home, with damp hair and glances at the large four-story brick building before he slips into one of the many trains that run underground. He goes to college - New York University – and feels lucky that his boyfriend is sweet enough to pay for his education. He's made a lot of new friends; Vicki, Anna, Mystic Falls – all of it a distant blur of colors, gradually diminishing. New places, new faces, new friends, namely Viola, Karina, and Lincoln, all of which he'd met in his Creative Writing class. He takes notes on the MacBook Tyler had given him last Christmas and doodles on spare paper. He waits around until his six o'clock class ends. Then he goes home.

On this particular day, it is exceptionally windy, and not the welcomed kind of windy that occurs rarely in the summer and spring when it is sweltering hot; but the kind of wind that makes you want to bundle up under covers, watch black and white movies, and drink cups of sweet tea. The kind that burns your cheeks with the sheer cold of it, and paints them pink. He slips into the yellow taxi cab, and says, "Ridgefield Ave, please."

The cab driver nods, and Jeremy notices the picture of his children and wife. He asks about them, and the cab driver is happy enough to tell him about them. About coming to America and better opportunities and the pride that the 100's his daughter gets on vocabulary quizzes give him. "What about you? How's your family?" he asks, looking back at him, with a smile.

Jeremy thinks about this. "Estranged," he answers.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says, his accent thick. "I'm sure you've got a lovely girl waiting for you somewhere, though. Am I right?"

Jeremy smirks. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Hey baby," Tyler greets him, as usual, with a kiss on his cheek. "I ordered Chinese."

"Good, I'm starving," he says, hanging his coat on one of the metal hooks next to the door. "Light day at the office?" Jeremy asks, stepping out of the doorway

"Yeah. Rodgers decided to show up for a change, so I didn't have to prep all his cases."

Jeremy yawns and takes a seat on the edge of the sofa. He turns it to the local news channel, and Tyler goes into the kitchen, returning with two plates covered in chow mein, egg rolls, and two cokes. Tyler's having a hard time balancing all of it, so Jeremy takes his food from him, the ice cold aluminum of the coke can startling him

"How was college?"

"Okay. Some girls in my English Lit class compared Edward Cullento Dracula."

"So I assume you'll be dropping the class?" Tyler asks biting into an egg roll.

Jeremy laughs, lightly, "No. But I'm considering murder. You're defending me."

Tyler scoffs, "I'm already doing more pro bono than half of my office. Wait 'til next year to start planning your executions."

"I'll try to put it off until then," he amends, leaning against Tyler, who runs his fingers through his own hair carelessly muttering something about a 'haircut'.

They finish dinner, and Tyler tells Jeremy that he's too tired for sex, and falls asleep. It's not the first time, it's rare enough to occur once a year, and he hasn't wanted sex in at least three weeks. Jeremy watches his shirtless form while leaning against the headboard of their bed, reading Crime & Punishment. He bends over the corner of the page, and walks over to the nightstand where he'd noticed the red blinking 01 on their answering machine. He presses the play button and listens.

"Hello Tyler, this is Doctor Hansen, again. I know you're upset, and this is very hard for you, and while I understand why you're reluctant, you really should schedule the chemotherapy. It's been weeks. Call me back at 857-,"

Jeremy's too numb to register the rest of the message. Chemotherapy. He hears the word echo in his head, and his stomach reels. He feels a burning sensation in his eyes, and everything around him is spinning around.

Tyler stumbles into the living room, to see a bedraggled, red-eyed, Jeremy, staring into the distance. He glances at the clock to make sure it's the time he thinks it is. He glances back out the window to make sure it isn't in the p.m.'s. The sun is shining, dully, barely, between grey clouds.

"What are you still doing here? Don't your classes start at eight?" he finally asks, his brows furrowing.

Jeremy scoffs, and turns to look at him. "Yeah," his voice is soft. "I missed some of them."

"Have you been crying?" Tyler asks, walking over to him, and taking the seat adjacent to his. "What's wrong, Jer?"

Jeremy glances at him quickly before looking away, and pulling out a thin stack of envelopes from behind him, all from New York Medical, and pushes them across the table. "Do you wanna tell me what these are?" Tyler stares down at the white envelopes with a red Urgent stamped across them.

"You went through my stuff?" he asks. Not because he really cares, they go through each other's stuff all the time. Half the time he ends up wearing Jeremy's clothes.

"That's it? That's what you have to say?" he asks, and his voice has turned harsh.

Tyler is silent; his gaze downcast, staring at the envelopes with such intensity that he begins to see doubles.

"How could you not tell me? That's what I want to know. How could you -," Jeremy breaks off, as his voice cracks.

Tyler is silent for a long moment before he says, "I wanted to tell you…I -," Tyler breaks off, shaking his head. "Are you leaving?" he asks, looking up at Jeremy for the first time, expectantly. His voice is desperate; as if he expects him to pack his bags right there and walk out on him.

"Am I le – is that why you didn't tell me? You thought I would leave you? Why the fuck would I leave you?"

Tyler's not exactly sure why he thought he would either. It's just a fear that's always with him. Whenever something goes wrong he expects everything else to fall apart; the domino effect.

Jeremy stares at him, as the burning tears threaten to spill over, "I would never abandon you, Ty. I love you. I love you so much."

"I'm sorry," he says, weakly.

"Why haven't you started treatment yet? These letters are from weeks ago."

Tyler shrugs.

"What? Do you think ignoring it is going to make it disappear? I don't wanna lose you. I can't imagine -," he takes in a sharp intake of breath, "I need you to be…," he struggles with the word, "Living."

"I don't wanna die," he says, his voice soft.

"You're Tyler fucking Lockwood. You're not going to die."

"I don't think the melanoma cares much what my name is," he replies. "I think you should leave," he says looking up at Jeremy.

"You want me to -,"

"It's not that I don't want you. I just don't think you need to be around for this. For the chemotherapy, all the…," he trails off. "You deserve to live a life that isn't spent kneeling across hospital beds."

"Fuck you." Tyler looks up at him, surprised. "Fuck you, you piece of crap. You hypocritical piece of -," Jeremy cuts himself short, "Didn't I say the same thing to you when I first got admitted to the rehab clinic for my methamphetamine addiction? And you were there. You were there everyday. Don't give me the 'you deserve better' crap, Ty. We're going to get through this. Together. Like we always have." Jeremy leans over to catch him Tyler's lips in his own. He's crying, but Jeremy doesn't think Tyler will mind, as he's followed suit, his fingers tightly gripping Jeremy's hair, as their mouths move against one another.

Tyler frees himself from the kiss, and kisses Jeremy on his cheek, before moving his mouth to Jeremy's ear to whisper, "I really lucked out on you, huh?"

Jeremy's laugh is partially shrouded by tears, but he kisses Tyler again. This kiss is shorter, but it carries the same message. "I think it's time to schedule chemotherapy," he says, his hands finding Tyler's and wrap around them.

Tyler's eyes meet Jeremy's. They are filled with fear, uncertainty, and a lacking sense of confidence in any possible future. "I love you," he whispers.

Jeremy nods, and bites down onto his lower lip. Yes. There are things that Tyler will never say. Things that he will never do. But for now, he will settle for what he does say. What is here and now and enough.

They'll make it. They always do

Review, Darlings :)