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“I’m not everyone.”

“No,” he whispers. “You’re really not.”

“I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it until it actually sinks in.”

“Thank you, Evan.”

Marcus sniffles and wipes his nose with his sleeve. I’d go get him a tissue, but right now I don’t want to move away from him, so instead, I pull him into me. He comes easily, his head falling into the crook of my neck.

“Thank you,” he whispers again.

I can feel him shaking, can feel the wetness of his tears against my skin, and I hold him tighter as he climbs into my lap. His wet tears coat my shoulder as we sit like that for a long time, just holding each other, letting the weight of everything we’ve said settle between us. It’s not fixed. We’re not healed. But we’re here. We’re together. And for the first time all year, I feel like I can breathe.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers against my neck. “I missed you every single day.”

“I missed you too.” I press a kiss to his temple as I let myself feel it all—the sadness and the love, the hurt and the hope, the fear and the relief. I let myself feel the weight of his body against mine, the warmth of his breath on my skin, the beat of his heart against my chest. I let myself feel the truth that I’ve been running from for months: I am completely in love with this man and I’ll do anything to make it work. I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know how we’re going to make this work logistically. I don’t know if he’ll keep his promises, but I know we have to try.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at me, eyes still wet, and I can’t not kiss him.

I lean in and capture his mouth with mine. It’s slow and passionate, and I can taste the salt of both our tears between us. He makes a small, broken sound against my lips, hands coming up to frame my face, and I let the kiss say everything I don’t have words for.

When we finally break apart, our foreheads rest together, both of us breathing unsteadily, neither of us in any rush to move.

“Fuck, Marcus. I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been since Chicago. Hell, maybe even before that. When I look at you, I see the person I want to build a life with. I see the person I want to come home to. And I don’t know how we make that happen. We still live thousands of miles apart, but I want to try,” I admit, unable to hold it back any longer.

Marcus stares at me, lips parted, like he’s waiting for me to take it back. But I won’t and he knows it because his disbelief turns into hope as he smiles. “I love you so much, Evan. I will do whatever it takes to make this work. I’ll do long distance for a while until we figure out logistics. I’ll move to Seattle. Hell, I want to move. There’s nothing for me in Chicago. There never has been. I’ll do whatever it takes, Evan. Because I love you and I’m not letting you go again ever again.”

His words settle something in me that’s been uncertain all year. He loves me too. He’s willing to move. He wants to start a life together.

I almost don’t believe it. After nearly a year of silence, I stopped letting myself imagine him in Seattle with me. I had to shut the thought down because hoping for it hurt more than missing him did and eventually I had to give up on the dream altogether.

Now he’s saying everything I stopped letting myself want.

“You don’t have to decide that tonight,” I say, even though everything in me wants to hold him to it. “I don’t want you making a decision this big off the high of one conversation.”

“I’m not.” He shakes his head firmly. “I’ve thought about it before tonight, Evan. Long before. I’ve thought about leaving Chicago more times than I’ve told you. There’s nothing there for me except old wounds and a job I don’t even like. You’re not a decision I’m making off a high. I’m choosing you.”

Something in my chest cracks open wider at that, if that's even possible after everything already spilled out tonight.

“I don’t want you to move because you’re running from something,” I say quietly. “I want you to move because you’re running toward something. Toward me, us, our future. Not just away from Chicago.”

“Both things can be true, can’t they?” He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “I am choosing to leave a life that’s never once felt like mine. But I’m also running toward you with my eyes open. I want this, Evan.”

I laugh, wet and surprised, some of the weight in the room finally lifting into something lighter. I lean in and kiss him again, and it feels like the beginning of us. When we break apart, he rests his hand against my cheek, thumb brushing gently along my jaw.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he whispers.

“Thank you for finally letting me all the way in.” I press my forehead to his again. “We’ve got a lot to figure out. But we’ve got time to figure it out together now. That’s all I ever wanted.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “Besides, I still have a promise I intend to keep.”

My face scrunches for a moment because I’m not sure what he’s… oh. “Yes, you do still owe me a trip to Seattle. How about we plan that as soon as possible? You can visit and we can see how you like it. Deal?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

We lie down on the bed together, fully clothed, just holding each other. His hand finds mine and he laces our fingers together. This is what I’ve been missing.

He kisses my forehead as his body curls around mine. The same woodsy spice I’ve fallen in love with is back, and I feel something settle in my chest that hasn’t been still in almost a year.