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The distant sound of the front door opening and closing didn't even make Tommy blink anymore.
He'd given Evan a key to his house not long after they'd gotten back together, when he hadn't had a choice in the matter of going out to dinner to celebrate their one year anniversary. It didn't matter that almost half of that year had been spent apart, or they'd agreed to take things slower, the second time around. A year of their lives had been spent obsessed with each other - dating each other, caring for each other, hurting each other, missing each other, yearning for each other…
They'd been apart, but that didn't change the feelings that had burrowed their way into Tommy's chest. That didn't change how much he wanted to have Evan in his life, whether that was in the form of a serious relationship, or hooking up in the barren shell of Eddie Diaz's house. He'd had a taste of what could have been, and though it hadn't felt like it was meant to last, it was going to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. And he'd been satisfied with that, or at the very least, it wasn't going to kill him.
Now, six months into their relationship, again, he was still kicking himself for wasting so much time. It was easy to know he'd reacted with unexplained panic at the idea of moving in together when he was looking back with more experience. Everyday, Evan used his key to enter his home after a brief stop at the small apartment that he rented closer to his new firehouse.
If Tommy waited long enough to seek him out, there would be dinner ready for him in the kitchen, and a kiss, and then his boyfriend would tell him all about his day, and they'd go about their usual routine. They would take the opportunity to not sleep alone, and watch a movie, and try to make up for all of their lost time.
If he didn't wait, he got something even better.
Instead of waiting for the smell of food to reach him in the garage, Tommy closed the hood of the car he'd spent the afternoon tinkering with and grabbed the already grease stained towel from the nearby workbench. He knew he was sweaty, and didn't smell nearly as appealing as anything in the kitchen, and he would definitely need to shower before they sat down to eat. But he was greedy, and he had the time to, just for a few minutes, appreciate his favorite sight in the world.
Making his way into the main part of the house, he stopped to lean in the doorway to the kitchen. There, Evan was sorting through the fridge and cabinets, looking for what options he had when it came to what to make. He had one headphone visible and Tommy didn't have to ask to know that he was listening to a podcast. It was rare, even with their undefined living situation, that he got to see his boyfriend like this, totally and completely in his element.
For as long as he didn't notice Tommy in the doorway, he was in a bubble of peace. He seemed so happy, with the right noise in his ears and fresh ingredients in his hands. There had been too many muffins and loaves of bread presented and shared with him when they first got back together, and then there were cakes and cupcakes and cookies, followed up with pies both sweet and savory.
The first thing Evan had made for him in his little apartment, nervous and shaky and timid, was a pot pie. He'd gone on about trying a new recipe for the dough, and resting times, and not enough moisture, and it had been hard to listen to. There were times when Evan diving into things and rambling was a good thing - they'd brought peace to a cowboy mummy because of that. But there were other times, like when he got an unexpected two hour personal podcast about baking, when the spark wasn't there. That excited light in his eyes was gone, and half of the information seemed scripted or rehearsed, like he'd said it a dozen times before and was resigned to saying it a dozen more times. It was like he expected it all to fall on deaf ears, and that had been enough to make Tommy's heart ache. So he'd asked questions and complimented the food until that light was back, until Evan was stumbling over a few sentences that hadn't been practiced, the facts coming to his tongue faster than he could think them up.
Since then, he'd been sure to ask about everything that made Evan even a fraction as excited as baking did. He'd even gone as far as texting Sal at least once a week, so he knew what calls to ask about over dinner, and which saves to praise. In the process of that, he'd been learning plenty, too - about sharks, and figs, and true crime. The latest dinnertime topic had been a toss up between a case out of Australia from the '90s and a World War II horror film he'd watched on Tommy's Hulu account when he was on call and didn't have the option to handpick a warm and fuzzy romcom.
The podcast in his ears could be about either one.
When Evan straightened up and turned around, arms full of produce from the fridge's open crisper drawer, that bright, excited smile broke out across his face. That look was aimed at him more often than Tommy thought was reasonable, as if he was as interesting as a mummy's curse or corpses in barrels. He wasn't, that was an undeniable fact, but that smile made him feel like he could be. Evan seemed to think so. But he'd also thought it was a good idea to move in together after only six months, so he took that with a grain of salt.
"Snowtown or zombies?" Tommy waited to ask the question until Evan pulled out one headphone, and he wasn't at risk of dropping onions and tomatoes all over the kitchen floor.
"Both, actually." With a wider grin, he shook his head and moved around the kitchen. That was another thing that Tommy was constantly in awe of. Without seeming to miss a beat, Evan could spout more information than he thought possible while making some of the vest food he'd ever had. "They made a movie about all of the Snowtown stuff, back in 2011? And the score and all the backing tracks were composed by the same guy that worked on Overlord!"
His growing excitement was enough to make Tommy smile almost as wide, staying in the doorway. He didn't necessarily need to be part of the moment in front of him. He was happy to just watch, to bear witness to the unfiltered joy coming off of Evan Buckley in waves. It was nothing but an honor to pass through the vibrant life in front of him, whether they stayed together for ten more days or ten more years. He would take whatever time the universe would give him to be happy, no matter how badly it would hurt when it all ended again.
Evan would be his last, even if that fact wasn't a mutual one.
"I hope you weren't counting on watching either of those tonight. I start a twenty four in the morning, so I need my sleep. I can't save lives if you keep me up all night with zombies and serial killers."
Looking up from where he had started to dice the tomatoes he'd taken out, Evan flashed him a smaller, softer grin. "The killers are in jail in a different hemisphere, and the zombies are from a fictional story set 80 years ago. But, I will let you pick the movie tonight so you can get your beauty sleep."
Tommy narrowed his eyes, the expression more playful than actually bothered by the teasing. It was a normal part of his life, as crazy as that would have seemed to him at any other point in time. His life had changed so much so quickly, and part of him still expected to wake up alone from a wonderful dream. "I'm thinking that Glen Powell one that Netflix made? The personal assistants one, not the fake assassin one."
"We should rewatch that one soon, too. It was fun." Evan nodded mostly to himself and went back to his chopping. "The next time our schedules line up, we should hole up with snacks and do a marathon. Both Netflix movies, that Shakespeare retelling, Maverick, Twisters… I feel like I'm missing one…"
"He'd been in a lot. You're probably forgetting more than one."
"Oh!" Evan's voice grew louder while he moved the tomatoes to a bowl and quickly shook his head. "Backdraft!"
Arching a brow, Tommy watched him for a long moment before hesitantly voicing his thoughts. "I don't think Glen Powell was in Backdraft."
"No, he's not." He watched his boyfriend move fluidly, energy seeming to be buzzing just under his skin. "But he's gonna be in the remake or sequel or whatever. I don't think they've actually started production yet, but I'm so excited for it."
Even after a long shift and an entire day of errands and running around the city, he still had the energy to cook them dinner and carry the entire conversation across different topics. That was the part of everything that made Tommy sure things between them wouldn't be a forever. Evan was constantly moving, energetically talking about anything and everything that crossed his mind. His social battery even seemed to be constantly full, ready to go out with friends or make conversation with strangers wherever they went. He deserved someone who could match that energy, who could keep up with him.
Tommy tried, but that didn't change any of the facts. His body was old and sore, with creaky joints and gray hairs growing in where he shaved. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and he certainly wasn't as young as his boyfriend - or Glen Powell, or Wyatt Russell, or any of the other actors he'd been told about in the last few months. He couldn't do stunts, or fight zombies, or star in a new Backdraft, or use a helicopter to surprise Evan at a world famous monument… actually, he could do that one. Glen Powell in Anyone But You was very easy to live up to, and he made a mental note of that for later.
Still, the ability to fly a helicopter wasn't a rare one, especially in their line of work. It wouldn't be long until Evan found another pilot closer to his own age, who was just as extroverted as he was, who can stay up late and watch scary movies without being all but dead the next morning. He would find someone who lived life at his pace, and Tommy would be left in the dust. And that would be for the best.
Apparently, he'd been in his head long enough that it was noticeable. Evan wasn't at the cutting board anymore, instead standing directly in front of him with a soft smile that gave away some of the concern behind it. He didn't like that look, didn't like that Evan worried at all, didn't like that he'd been the one who caused it. If he was a good boyfriend, a good partner, Evan wouldn't worry about anything at all. But there he was, worried about Tommy, like that should ever be anywhere on his list of priorities.
"Where did you go?"
It was such a sweet, gentle way to ask the question. For a moment, he forgot about everything that wasn't how good Evan had been, with the stumbles in the beginning and all. He wasn't thinking about how doomed their relationship was, or trying to calculate just how much time they had left. He was just thinking about how happy he was, and how much he wanted these evening to continue for as long as possible. He wanted everyday to involve a homecooked meal and a playful debate about what movie they were going to fall asleep to. He wanted to pretend that the rest of his life could be exactly like this, instead of being bogged down by reality.
"Nowhere." With a small shake of his head, Tommy put on a smile that he hoped was reassuring enough to make that look go away. "I was just thinking about how much I don't deserve you."
That much was true, at least. All of his thoughts could be boiled down to that simple statement, or the other way around. He didn't deserve Evan, because Evan deserved better.
Even if acknowledging it made that weak smile turn into a pout. In a way, the pout was better. The pout meant something was coming, and they wouldn't be talking about him and that unnecessary worry would be gone soon enough.
"Stop. If this is about me making you dinner again, you know I like doing it." With a small shake of his head, Evan gave him a gentle nudge, careful to avoid getting any grease on his hands. "I like cooking, and I especially like cooking for you."
"It's not about the cooking."
"You are going to be my last." It was something they didn't talk about, the reason they broke things off in the first place. Firsts, lasts, all of those things that couldn't be predicted without a time machine. It was too definite to be a statement of fact. It was just a belief, a hope, that didn't mean as much as he needed it to. "I'm going to come home to you for the rest of my life, if you'll have me. I'm going to make you dinner, and plan movie marathons with you, and tease you about your taste in romcoms while telling you about horrible human beings for the rest of our lives. And cool animals. I will mostly tell you about cool animals. For the rest of our lives."
It sounded like a promise, one that Tommy couldn't afford to believe. The rest of their lives was as nebulous as it was an implied certainty. Evan sounded so sure that things wouldn't fall apart again, that they were steady enough to have a vague future instead of planning all of it carefully like a schedule.
The future was anything but certain.
"How can you possibly know that?"
Evan's scoff made it sound like an unreasonable question, as if the answer was a completely obvious one. He didn't give that answer right away, bouncing up briefly to kiss his lips. It was gentle, and it tasted like toothpaste, and Tommy knew he must taste like dust and sweat, and everything else that had ended up on his face during his afternoon in the garage. It was far from the best kiss they'd ever shared, and too short for him to do anything to change that.
"Because I love you, and I want to keep showing you that for as long as I can."
I love you.
It was said so casually, like it had been said a million times instead of just once in that kitchen. It sounded so easy and natural. He didn't know if he'd ever been loved like that - like it was as simple as breathing.
"You…? Are you sure?" Tommy knew that the question was ridiculous, that he sounded less stable than he would like to. He wanted to accept the statement without questioning and dissecting it until it was nothing but a pile of shreds. If anyone was going to say those words and mean them, it was Evan.
The laugh that sounded between them was disbelieving, and tinged with the subtle ache of sadness for someone else. Great. He'd upset Evan again. He seemed to be unable to do anything else.
"I am sure. And I'd prove it, but I know you still won't believe me. I love you, Thomas Kinard. Now, go shower. You're stinky."
"I'm stinky? That's rude." Tommy lowered his head to give himself an experimental sniff, and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Okay, yeah, that's pretty bad. Okay. I'm gonna shower. I'll see you soon."
The last thing he saw before he turned around to go upstairs was the wide, bright grin of his boyfriend. Who loved him.
( "when you said you were going to prove it, i didn't expect this."
"dinner in bed and romcoms? these are your favorite things."
"the burrito bowls are very good, just not what i expected."
"what did you expect?"
"well…"
"gross. get your head out of the gutter, old man."
"evan…"
"and be patient. that's dessert."
"i love you, too." )