Harrison knocked on the door, the sound loud to his own ears.
“I’m serious, Fraser. Unlock this goddamn door.”
He turned the knob again and pushed against the door with his hip. The high-quality wood had no give, and the only thing he accomplished was bruising himself.
Harrison pressed his head to the door, letting out a shaky exhale against wood. “You were there for me,” he whispered into the silence. “Please,let me be there for you.”
It felt like time went still around him as he stood and waited, praying that Jett would let him in. He didn’t want him to be alone. He couldn’t stand the thought of Jett fighting this battle with no one beside him.
The door remained closed, and the silence stretched on.
Harrison didn’t move. He would stand there all day if he had to.
The sound of a lock clicking was sudden and loud. Harrison pushed away from the door just in time for the knob to turn, and the door opened to reveal Jett standing there.
Hewas still holding the plushy, and had wrapped himself in the colourful anime blanket that usually sat at the foot of their bed. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, and he wouldn’t meet Harrison’s gaze as he stepped aside and motioned for him to come in.
Harrison passed the threshold and frowned when Jett quickly shut the door again and locked it.
“Get on the bed,” said Jett. His voice sounded lifeless and miserable. “Please don’t talk. I don’t want to say anything yet.”
That was all Harrison needed to hear. He went to their bed and set his phone on silent, putting it on the bedside table. He pulled his shirt over his head and tugged the tie out of his hair, grimacing at how sore he felt. It was a struggle to get his pants off, but he clumsily stripped down to his boxers and got on the bed.
He didn’t have a chance to pull the blankets on before Jett collapsed on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs. Wheezing, Harrison flipped the blankets over them so Jett would be warm.
“I don’t have…a coping mechanism like you had,” Jett said, his warm breath tickling Harrison’s neck. “I don’t know how to shut my brain up long enough to calm myself down, I don’t know what to—”
Harrison wrapped his arms tightly around Jett’s body and squeezed as hard as he could without hurting him. He heard a gasp get caught in Jett’s throat, and then he went limp.
Harrison kept applying pressure, and the shaking stopped. He had read somewhere that holding a person tightly through a panic attack could help, but he had never tried it on himself. That had been before he discovered the cold water in his shower, when he was desperate to find any way to keep himself from falling apart. He had been alone in his house with no one to cling to, but Jett wasn’t alone because Harrison was there for him.
“Oh god.”
The words were broken up between panicked breaths and hitched sobs.
“Fuck, why wasn’t I there, Harrison? Oh god, why—why did—”
Harrison felt hot tears on his neck. His eyes began to sting, so he closed them and held on tighter.
“I—I don’t—” Jett barely had enough room to draw oxygen in his lungs. “I can’t—”
Harrison slid his hand up and grabbed onto the curls at the back of Jett’s head, tugging them hard, but not hard enough to hurt.
Jett was so constricted that he could no longer speak, so he jammed his face into Harrison’s neck and cried. His pain was so palpable that Harrison could feel it reverberating through his body like it was his own.
Tears escaped him, rolling down his cheeks to fall onto the pillow. His heart was breaking for Jett, and in some ways, it was breaking for himself. All the years he spent numbing his mind from the pain shoved itself to the surface, and Harrison found himself paralyzed by grief.
He missed his brother. There was an empty spot in his life without him there that always felt cold, like a lingering spirit that taunted him with painful memories.
He missed Taylor too—the best friend he could rely on in any situation and always had his back. He lost his life trying to protect him, Harrison remembered that now. He had thrown him out of the way of the moving vehicle because Harrison refused to get off the road—he refused to leave Luca behind.
Taylor had been driving the vehicle, but they were all dumb kids who went out into a storm after drinking and celebrating. They could have stayed home that night, or done anything else, but they didn’t. Taylor’s last act was saving him, and because of him, Harrison had gone on living long enough to meet Jett.
Fuck, they were such a mess, him and Jett both.
He let Jett cry everything out, keeping him in a tight grip until his arms started to ache, and his body entered a new level of exhaustion he didn’t know he was capable of.
When Jett’s sobs finally settled and his breathing evened out, Harrison allowed his arms to relax. He gently eased the pressure, careful not to wake the sleeping man. Jett only stirred to nuzzle his face deeper into Harrison’s neck, letting out a contented sigh before falling back into sleep.
