what is a promise if not your hand in mine?
When TK can’t suppress his nerves, he has a very easy tell. He holds his hands to his mouth; as if he’s stopping all the words he actually wants to say.
When TK wants to comfort Carlos, he expresses it in the softness of his touch. He’ll place a gentle hand on Carlos’ face, reminding him that he’s here.That he’s still right here.
TK might not wake up, and Carlos can’t even hold his hand. TK might not wake up, and all Carlos wants to do is hold his hand.
—
Carlos doesn’t know where he went wrong; where they went wrong. What he does know, is that he’ll do anything he can to fix it.
He chooses not leave the hospital until TK wakes up. At some point, he doesn’t think he can leave. All the weight of “what happened” has weighed him down.
At some point, he thinks, maybe it’s best if he leaves. Carlos tells Nancy that he’s holding a vigil for a man who doesn’t he want him in his life.
Nancy doesn’t buy it; she tells Carlos that TK loves him.
Carlos doesn’t buy it; he asks Nancy why she would say that.
Nancy looks at Carlos, confused, and answers, “Because it’s true,”
Nancy tells Carlos that she can’t even say his name around TK because it’s too painful for him to hear. “It’s obvious,” Nancy says, as if it’s obvious. “He loves you.”
With watery eyes, he looks at Nancy and asks, “If he loves me so much,” His voice is tight, an edge to it. “Why did he break my heart?”
—
Carlos allows himself to be upset, and he tells TK how he really feels. He knows TK can’t hear him, but he thinks it might make him feel better.
It doesn’t, not really.
—
TK wakes up.
He wakes up and the first thing he does is call Carlos, “Baby.” He reaches out and grabs Carlos’ hand. To remind him, he’s here. He’s still right here.
It’s in that moment, Carlos can feel his broken heart slowly start to mend itself together again.
—
A week later, Carlos asks TK what he’d like for dinner. TK says red snapper will always sound good.
On the drive to the grocery store, TK asks Carlos what he’d like for dessert. Carlos says cookies will always sound good. TK suggests they make the cookies he always made with his mom growing up.
Carlos is touched; he asks TK, “Are you sure?”
TK shrugs, “You’re sharing your home with me; the least I could do is share a piece of mine with you.”
—
They grab all the necessary ingredients. Pretzels, chocolate chips, shredded coconut, and candied pecans. They’re standing in the baking aisle when TK asks Carlos if he remembers what the secret ingredient is.
“Toffee?” Carlos asks as TK reaches for a bag of brown sugar.
TK smiles at him, and Carlos loves everything about it. “Love.”
—
They thank the cashier and head back to their apartment.
Walking through the parking lot, all Carlos can think about is TK’s hand in his. He asks the question he already knows the answer to. He says it out loud; to make it real, to make them real.
“Can I hold your hand?”
“Of course,” TK reaches his hand out, grabbing onto Carlos’ hand without a second thought. “That’s what it’s there for.”
Cross posted this from ao3 as it's not only topical but one of my personal favorites. Hope you enjoyed <3
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tender eyes that shine
1/1 | Rating: M | 16.1k | A Carlos Reyes character study in which Carlos learns to love himself a little more, even the soft parts. | All the thanks in the world to @bonheur-cafe for beta reading this one <3
Carlos is eight years old.
His favorite food is pizza flavored Kraft macaroni and cheese, his favorite movie is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron , his best friend is a stuffed koala named Kique, and at this very moment, he’s heartbroken over the passing of his abuela.
“No llores, nieto,” Carlos’ abuelo tells him during the wake of her funeral. Gray clouds are scattered across the sky and coating the somber event in an even more somber tone.
His abuelo crouches down, his joints cracking and popping as he stoops to Carlos’ eye level. He raises a calloused thumb and wipes away the tears that are still falling from Carlos’ wide brown eyes.
“Men like us,” His abuelo continues, his words casting a wide net. ‘Men like us’ is synonymous with anyone that looks like Carlos, has his skin tone, or shares his namesake. “We don’t let the world pity us, we can’t let them see us as soft.”
Carlos nods, wiping away any new tears that are starting to fall. The right sleeve of his charcoal gray suit now comes away colored a staunch black where Carlos’ tears have dampened it.
For some reason, the way his abuelo says ‘soft’ ricochets off of Carlos, as if it were stone and Carlos is a thin sheet of glass nestled into a window pane. It’s left a dent, an imprint, an impression, but hasn’t done enough damage to cause a crack.
Carlos’ bloodshot eyes shine with hesitation as he asks, voice small and insecure, “Reyes men don’t cry?
“Reyes men don’t cry,” His abuelo confirms.
continued on ao3.
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