Chapter Nineteen
The second Allen came in, Rick knew something was off. Allen smiled when he saw him, but it didn’t last. Rick stood, kissed his cheek, and felt the tension in him right away. When they sat down, Allen’s eyes kept moving, and he couldn’t look at Rick for long.
Rick didn’t like it.
Rick kept his smile in place anyway and touched Allen’s cheek like it was normal, like he wasn’t watching him.
“Long day?” Rick asked.
“Yeah,” Allen said a little too fast. He didn’t meet Rick’s eyes when he said it.
Rick nodded, then pursed his lips. “You want food?”
“Sure.”
The answer was fine, but the tone wasn’t. Allen’s gaze kept flicking away—past Rick, to the room, to the door, back again.
Rick asked another small question. “Have you been watching the news?”
Allen’s throat moved. “No.”
It was a lie. Not a big one, but Rick felt it anyway. He watched Allen’s hands and how they kept flexing, how he kept rubbing his thumb over his palm like he couldn’t settle.
Rick decided then. If Allen was putting things together, Rick wasn’t going to wait for him to bolt or go to the police. He’d rather drag it into the light and deal with it.
It wasn’t that Allen was distracted. Everyone gets distracted. It was the way Allen was holding himself. Rick could see the tension in his body, and it was obvious enough that he asked, “Are you okay?” Rick asked, keeping it low.
“Yeah,” Allen blurted out immediately. “Just tired.”
Too quick. Too clean. Allen usually had a pause before he lied, even a small one. He wasn’t a good liar. That was one of the things Rick liked about him.
Rick picked up the menu and gave Allen an excuse not to talk. He let the first couple of minutes pass. He could be patient when he had to be. He’d learned it the hard way. People didn’t tell you the truth when you went at them too hard.
Allen stared at the menu without really reading it. He kept glancing over Rick’s shoulder, tracking movement in the restaurant. He wasn’t looking for someone specific. Rick could tell that too. It was more general. Watchful. Like Allen didn’t trust the room.
Rick felt a flicker of irritation. Not at Allen. At whatever had put him in this state.
When the server came over, Allen was polite. He even smiled at a joke that wasn’t funny. He ordered without hesitation. Normal, if you didn’t look too close.
Rick watched the performance and did his own. He gave the server a polite answer, nodded at the right points, and kept his voice level. He’d done plenty of public appearances when he’d still been relevant. He could do “fine” better than most people.
As soon as they were alone again, Rick asked, “What’s going on?”
Allen’s hand paused near the bread basket. “Nothing.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Allen exhaled through his nose. “It’s work. It’s been a weird week. That’s all.”
Rick held his gaze and waited for Allen to look back properly. Allen reached for his water instead, took a sip, and put it down too carefully.
Rick didn’t push. Not yet. He talked. Rick told him about something stupid he’d seen online, about a draft he’d been stuck on, about how his neighbor’s dog had barked at three in the morning. He kept it light. He kept it normal.
Allen nodded at the right places, answered when he had to, but he didn’t lean in the way he usually did. He didn’t tease Rick back. He didn’t touch Rick’s hand across the table. He didn’t relax in his chair.
That was the thing. Allen usually relaxed.
Rick watched his hands instead of his face. Allen kept them close to himself, fingers tapping once against the side of his glass, then stopping only to do it again a minute later. Rick tried to tell himself it was nothing. People fidgeted, but Allen didn’t, not like this.
By the time the food came, Rick wasn’t hungry.
He moved things around on the plate more than he took bites.
He kept watching Allen’s face instead. The way his jaw tightened now and then.
The way his eyes tracked movement in the room.
It wasn’t fear, exactly. Allen wasn’t wide-eyed or jumpy. He was tense.
“Allen.”
Allen looked up and gave Rick a small smile. “I’m fine,” he said. “I promise.”
Rick didn’t believe him, but he didn’t call him on it in front of other people. He wasn’t stupid. Rick took a bite of food and chewed even though he couldn’t taste it. His head ran through possibilities and reasons why Allen was behaving the way he was.
Work, maybe. A bad call. A warning from his boss. Or something else. Something Allen hadn’t said out loud because he didn’t want Rick to know. Rick didn’t like that his mind kept going there.
Outside, Allen walked a half-step ahead, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. Rick caught up and brushed his fingers against Allen’s wrist. Allen didn’t pull away, but he didn’t hold on either. He let the touch happen and kept walking.
Rick tried not to let it get under his skin.
Allen wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he was distant, and Rick didn’t handle distance well. Distance turned into silence. Silence turned into people leaving. Rick had lived that enough times to know the pattern. People got busy, and then one day you realized you were on your own.
At Allen’s apartment, Rick followed him inside and watched him move around his apartment.
Allen took his shoes off, went straight to the kitchen, and opened the fridge.
He poured water and didn’t drink it. He wiped down a counter that wasn’t dirty.
He checked his phone, put it down, and picked it up again.
Rick stayed by the couch and waited. He gave Allen a minute and then another. Allen kept doing small tasks that didn’t need doing. Rick knew the type. Busy hands. Busy mind.
“Come here,” Rick said.
Allen glanced over. “I’m just—”
“Allen.”
Allen hesitated, then crossed the room. Rick stepped in close and kissed him slow. Allen’s mouth was warm, familiar. After a second, Allen kissed him back, and Rick felt some of the tension in his own body ease.
Rick rested his forehead against Allen’s. “You make me feel normal,” he said quietly. “Do you get that?”
He didn’t usually say things like that. It made him feel exposed, and Rick didn’t like being exposed. But it felt like Allen was slipping away, and Rick needed to grab something solid.
Allen’s lips twitched. “That’s because you are.”
Rick watched his eyes, trying to keep him there. “When I’m with you, it’s easier,” Rick said. “I can breathe.”
Allen nodded once. His hands slid up Rick’s sides, hesitant at first, then firmer.
Rick kissed him again, deeper this time, and Allen went with it. He even let out a small laugh against Rick’s mouth when Rick kissed the corner of his lips.
Rick pulled back slightly. “There,” he murmured. “That’s you.”
Allen’s smile held for a second, then his gaze slid past Rick’s shoulder toward the kitchen again.
Rick felt his jaw tighten. “You’re still not here.”
“I’m here,” Allen said quickly. Rick waited. Allen blinked once, then he stepped back, not fully away, but enough to break it. He rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s work,” he said. “Someone was a complete asshole today. That’s all.”
Rick watched him turn toward the kitchen. Allen picked up the glass and took a sip, then put it down and wiped a drop off the counter with his thumb.
Rick’s patience thinned. He kept his expression calm. He didn’t like being lied to. He didn’t like the way Allen was using the same lines over and over. Rick could hear the pattern: tired, work, nothing. Simple words that shut doors.
Rick crossed the room and came up behind him, close enough that Allen stiffened before he forced himself to relax. Rick put his hand over Allen’s where it rested on the counter.
“Look at me.” Allen hesitated, then turned. Rick kept his voice low. “If it’s work, fine. Tell me. Don’t shut me out.”
Allen’s eyes flicked down. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s what you said at the restaurant.”
Allen swallowed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Rick’s hand tightened over his, not enough to hurt, just enough to make it clear he wasn’t letting it slide. “You don’t want to talk to me,” Rick said.
It came out harder than he had meant. He heard it. If Allen wanted to pretend, Rick wasn’t going to pretend for him.
Allen’s face shifted expression. Annoyance first, then guilt. “That’s not fair.”
Rick gave a short breath. “You’ve been looking past me all night.”
“That’s not—” Allen stopped and sucked his lips in.
Rick leaned in, mouth near Allen’s ear. “Did I do something?”
Allen went still. “No.”
Rick turned him properly then, one hand at Allen’s wrist, the other at his waist, guiding him until Allen’s back hit the edge of the counter. Allen didn’t fight it, but his body remained tense, and Rick didn’t like that.
Rick didn’t like that feeling. He kept his voice soft. “Tell me what’s going on,” Rick said. “Make it easy.”
Allen’s breathing was shallow now. “Rick…”
Rick held his gaze. “You’re pulling away.”
“I’m not.”
Rick’s mouth twitched. “You are.”
Allen’s hands came up, resting lightly on Rick’s chest. “I’m just tired,” he said, and it was the same line he’d been using all night.
Rick felt his patience thinning. He kissed Allen again, and Allen kissed him back. For a second, Rick almost believed he’d fixed something. Allen always gave him something.
When Rick pulled away, he stayed close. His voice dropped. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t decide something in your head and leave me out of it.”
Allen swallowed. “I’m not deciding anything.”
Rick watched his eyes dart away again, and it made him want to grip tighter, but he didn’t. He knew what he looked like when he pushed too hard. He knew what he sounded like, too. People got scared when you didn’t let them have space.
Allen wasn’t afraid of him. Not yet, and Rick didn’t like that his head added the “yet.”
“Look at me,” Rick said, firmer. “Tell me you’re not going anywhere.”
Allen’s mouth parted, then closed. He nodded once.
Rick didn’t take the nod. “Say it.”