Perceptions V
Simmons dozed a little, having not slept nearly long enough the previous night. He woke up again when he felt Grif stirring in his arms, followed by a low, pained groan.
Grif opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. He felt like he had been run over by a bus. And unlike most people, he actually knew what that felt like. It took him a moment to register that there were warm, gentle arms around him and a soft breath on his neck.
It hurt to turn his head, but he looked at Simmons and wondered what was going on. Had he dreamed waking up earlier? Realizing he had clothes on, he knew he hadn't. So what was going on, why was Simmons still here?
Simmons waited until it seemed like Grif was awake enough to listen, then started speaking, very softly so as not to hurt his head any further. "I'm sorry, Grif. I'm sorry I yelled at you, and I'm sorry I..." He trailed off a little at the look of confusion on Grif's face. "I found the letter," he mumbled.
Grif's eyes widened a little, then squeezed shut as he tried unsuccessfully to block out the new wave of grief that washed through him. Simmons clutched him tight, pulling them together in a bond of mutual grief as Grif was unable to resist his tears. "It's ok to cry," Simmons said, already tearing up himself.
They both lay in silence but for the sniffles between them. Grif buried his face in Simmons's chest, and Simmons held him close. Maybe it wasn't sex, but Simmons could no longer believe it wasn't love. Not on his end, anyway. He did love Grif, more than he thought possible to feel for the dirty, lazy slob. When Grif's tears began to calm down and his body no longer shook, Simmons pulled back just slightly to tip his chin up, looking into his eyes.
"I... I need to ask you something." Grif didn't say anything, and Simmons waited a breath before he continued. "Last... last night. Did you really mean it?"
"Mean what?" he said, his voice sounding broken and dry.
"What you said. Please, tell me the truth. I need to know if you really meant it."
Grif thought about it. He had meant it, of course he had. But he also wasn't sure he wanted to admit it. But now, now Simmons was acting like he really did care, and Grif felt a touch vulnerable. He wasn't drunk. He couldn't take it back this time if Simmons reacted badly.
"Why were you crying?" he replied at last, figuring his question was still unanswered and that wasn't fair.
Simmons gave a little exhale and nodded. It was only fair, after all. "Because," he mumbled. "Because you only say things like that to me when you're drunk."
Grif was going to protest, the rebuttal on his lips almost before he had thought, but then he did think. He really thought. And he realized Simmons was right. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes. I really meant it."
"Then say it," Simmons prompted. "Tell me now, tell me sober."
It was harder than Grif had expected it to be. The words were there, he had said them already. So why didn't they want to come out? Why did they stick in his throat and try to convince his lips they didn't really want to speak them? He couldn't look him in the face.
Simmons held his breath.
"You're the only thing in this whole fucking canyon I give a shit about," Grif mumbled at last. "You're the only thing that makes each day bearable. You're the only thing that helps when my nightmares make me afraid to go back to sleep."
Is that why you come over in the middle of the night? Is that why you hold on so tight and never want to talk about it? Simmons still wasn't breathing. He was afraid if he took a breath now, he'd start sobbing.
"And... I realized... I don't want you to die without knowing how I feel. And I don't want to die without telling you."
Simmons breathed at last, almost choking on the words but wanting to much to hear those words that Grif had said last night. "So.. how do you feel?"
Grif closed his eyes again, pushed his face into Simmons's chest, and said. "I love you."
Simmons lost it. He felt like someone had turned on water faucets in his eyes and he couldn't make them stop. But then, he didn't really want to try, either. He could feel Grif shaking slightly in his arms and he pressed a kiss to the top of his shaggy brown head. "I love you, too, Grif," he murmured.
Neither were entirely sure how this would affect their relationship. Simmons worried that it might become awkward and weird. Grif wondered if loving Simmons meant he was gay. But somewhere deep inside, both knew that they wouldn't have wanted to go backwards now. It was a relief to admit it fully and openly to one another - not to mention to themselves.
They both seemed to decide that those questions and worries could wait for another day. Right now, they both just wanted to be held.