(tw self harm)

Ish's lack of a desire for a relationship didn't bother Benji, he told himself. He could deal with it. It wasn't like he loved him or anything, but having someone to fuck when he was feeling sad (which was... more frequently than he cared to admit) was a good distraction. And of course, it wasn't like Benji imagined he was with Victor whenever he closed his eyes, but he didn't have to share this fact out loud.

He wondered if the times he'd let Victor's name slip from his lips by accident went intentionally ignored by Ish or if he just didn't hear. Ish seemed entirely unbothered, because he was; there was no need to stress when he made a point of having other partners over; he wasn't Benji's to have, and they both knew that. The resulting awkwardness led to Benji spending his birthday alone at home with Soledad eating a mediocre non-alcoholic tiramisu from Lidl and marathoning episodes of Rupaul's Drag Race on a weeknight.

As the weather grew ever colder, the Northern winter sweeping over the British Isles, the Christmas markets opening in London and filling the air with the smell of mulled wine, spices and fresh pastries, Benji felt the pull back to Victor wrenching him even more intensely than on the day he had been dumped. He didn't know if it was the stress of finals, the fact that he missed his family and Victor, or the holiday ambiance that pervaded every avenue and that it was so different to how it was back home, but it was something not even cigarettes, Xanax and a good fucking could fix.

And he still craved alcohol, but since his night in the hospital, his friends had made a point to keep him away from alcohol, which was easy since they were almost always out as a group. Benji promised to keep clean in the few times he was out on his own, but it was still so hard.

In the month or so since Victor had broken up with him, Benji found the days blurring together, as if his very sense and perception of Time had completely slowed down to almost a halt. He felt like he was stuck in a fish bowl, swimming in circles. Sleep. School. Eat. Fuck. Repeat. It also didn't help that the sun barely showed itself anymore, his body's need for vitamin D (not that kind) halting everything to a glacial pace, making that oppressive dark cloud that resided over his head engulf even more of his space. He never thought he would miss the Georgia sun so much; he'd taken it for granted.

"What are you lot doing for the Christmas holidays?" Soledad asked one day when they were all sat about in the living room watching old episodes of Skins . "We should go someplace warm."

"Don't you think it's a bit late to be booking trips? At this point they'll all be sold out or cost a fortune," Nikita said, letting his head fall onto the back of the couch as he stared at the ceiling. "I'll be going up to the Lake District with my family so don't wait on me."

Truthfully, Benji hadn't thought that far ahead. He had little desire to go back home at this point, because he knew he would just want to see Victor, and given their last interaction, that wasn't what Victor wanted; Benji wanted to respect that, no matter how much it hurt him to do so. He did miss his family and a few of his friends back in Georgia, of course, but the fact that he could video call them reduced the urge to go back and see them. If he could gather together some spare change, perhaps he could afford to go on a little trip; he was in.

"What did you have in mind? I have no reason to go back to the US anyway, so might as well," Benji said, back pressed against Ish's shoulder as he sat with his legs crossed, the ends of his hair tickling the other's skin. He had his arm loosely linked with Soledad's as she traced her fingers up the back of his hand absently.

"Y'ever been to the Canary Islands?"

"The only other place I've ever been to aside from London was Pakistan but that was just to visit family. So no. But it might be nice for us to go together, especially since I don't do anything special for Christmas," Ish said with a grin, ruffling Benji's hair a bit.

Benji smoothed his hair down as he rolled his eyes playfully. "If it's cheap, count me in."

"Me, too," Rhiannon said, clutching her fists, energy coursing through her.

"Okay, good. I already booked the Airbnb in Gran Canaria and got a mad discount. Let's sort the travel stuff and then we should be set. I'll send you my bank details later," Soledad clapped her hands gleefully.

They handled everything quickly, wanting to set the date for around Christmas and Boxing Day, then with the plan to return to London before the New Year celebrations. Benji was looking forward to spending some time in the sun, and the fact that he didn't have to break the bank to do so helped him relax. They still had some time to pack and make preparations, but Benji figured he should probably get on it soon. In the coming week, they had finals, so he would focus on those, and then afterward, he decided he would put his energy into finally packing. Knowing himself, he would throw something simple together after panicking over having too many choices.

As Benji padded down the corridor back to his room, he found himself missing Victor again, wishing he could join him on this trip. He thought back to their time in New York and how much he had enjoyed simply being in Victor's presence, even if they didn't speak. Benji felt as if he'd picked a scab that had almost healed, the pain in his chest coming back in full force. He resisted the urge to run to Ish because it felt like every time he asked him for sex, the mottled glass between them became slightly clearer. And as that glass became more translucent, allowing more and more light to pass, the image of Victor on the other side became ever sharper. He would have to face this fact at some point, but today was not the day. The forbidden fruit hadn't been worth it. All he got out of trying it was a nicotine addiction. And that damn feeling of waiting for nothing...

Attempting to stay silent, Benji simply allowed the tears to trail down his face as he walked. It hit him even harder that he had properly lost the love of his life. Victor wanted nothing to do with him, and he didn't have any other options. No one else could make him feel the same way.

"Are you all right, Benji?" came Ish's gentle voice behind him as he placed a hand on Benji's shoulder. Benji hated that in the few months they've lived together, Ish already had a way of knowing how he was feeling. He was too damn quiet and observant.

"No," Benji said, turning around.

Ish sighed. He'd seen Benji's tears plenty of times; it was as if that was Benji's near perpetual state of being at this point. "Do you want me to--"

"Please leave me the fuck alone."

With that, Benji retreated to his room, locking his door.

Hands shaking as he shuffled across the room, Benji opened his window, gazing out into the overcast London sky. He wiped his face before rolling up a cigarette, letting the smoke float out the window to join the clouds as he simply watched, face still.

Once he'd smoked it down to the end, he bit his lip and snuffed the cigarette out on his skin.

---------------------------

Victor maintained that his accident had been one of the best things to happen to him this semester. He would of course gloss over the fact that he had dumped the love of his life, on par with what Mia and Soledad considered abandoning him, but that was beside the point. It had been a bit over a month since the accident and he was still recovering, but it wouldn't be long before he was in physical therapy and back on his feet. Thankfully basketball season was over, and he could breathe a bit in the coming semester.

He'd managed to just barely pass all his classes, somehow finishing with a 2.61 GPA. Under normal circumstances he would consider that abysmal, but he got to retain his scholarship and stay in school, so he couldn't be mad about that. His therapy appointments had become less frequent but somehow more effective. It was especially helpful that now he was on break from school so he could properly relax with no interference. He'd been so distracted with finals that he also didn't have much of a chance to think about his breakup with Benji.

But now that he had the chance to sit down and think with no responsibilities, Victor felt the longing begin to sting him like a swarm of yellowjackets. He was still trying to take responsibility for himself, to give himself the chance to rest and recover, both physically and psychologically. Even though he had managed to come through in the end, and thanks to Mia's help (despite her constantly giving him shit for being stubborn, stupid and borderline sociopathic -- her words), this semester had been one of the most difficult few months of his life.

The anger management therapy had helped, and Victor did feel more relaxed on average and less likely to pop off on someone. And his regular therapy had helped with his anxiety, too. He was able to stop abusing Adderall (at least, for now) and even got a medical cannabis card, much to Isabel's dismay. But she had to grudgingly admit that weed did help Victor with his anxiety, and he was an adult, capable of making his own choices. Victor tried not to think about what might happen over the course of the next few years. But he knew he wouldn't have the capacity for a relationship for a while, that much was clear.

Whenever he got the chance, though, Victor thought of Benji. He thought of how soft his hair was, how smooth his skin was, the way he looked at Victor like he was the center of the universe -- his universe. But more importantly, he thought of how kind and patient Benji had been with him, how many hidden things he would learn about him every day, as if he was constantly looking into a kaleidoscope, falling in love with every new image that appeared. Benji wasn't simply an image but a human being in the flesh who somehow had the ability to numb Victor's pain when he was around. He was so much more than Victor had hoped he would be. And yet he had let him go.

One of the things Victor had learned in therapy was the importance of writing down what he was feeling. He decided to compose an email, because while it went slow with his fucked up hand, it was faster and less painful than writing.

"Mi Vida, " he wrote.

His life. Victor had to look away from the screen for a moment to collect himself, blinking back tears.

"I'm going to be direct: I miss you. That obviously won't excuse what I've done to you. I've had time to think, and I wanted to say I'm sorry. It's a bit of a problem that I'm constantly apologizing to you in some form of letter, but I think writing this down is better than me verbally trying to tell you everything that's in my heart.

When I think of you, and how much I've hurt you, I feel as if I've hurt myself. Not in that corny way of looking at you as if you're an extension of me, because you're an independent person; but rather, that you are, to me, my world and my life. And seeing you hurt because of me, feeling abandoned because of me, is inexcusable. I was wrong to abandon you when you needed me.

Even though it's not the responsibility of either of us to have control over the others' emotions and behaviors, what I did to you was wrong. I was thinking of self-preservation while trying to justify it to myself as looking out for your wellbeing, because I was scared of truly losing you. I was more afraid of losing you in that moment than I was concerned with your love for me or your autonomy. And that's not a healthy way for us to be together. I don't want you to endanger your life because of me ever again, but I also can't take away your ability to choose your own fate.

I want to be with you because I love you and want you, not because I feel like I'll die without you; and I want you to feel the same for me. We both deserve love and happiness, and I hope for us to be happy together. But we need to be together in a way that doesn't allow fear and resentment to control us. I hope you understand.

Breaking up with you was the biggest regret of my life. I say that not to manipulate your emotions, but as a true testament to my love for you. It's a scar I'll wear for the rest of my life.

While I know this will sound horrible coming from me, I think about you every day, and I wish I had the courage to get over my pride and face you. But for you, I'll overcome it. To quote Márquez: 'Courage did not come from the need to survive, or from a brute indifference inherited from someone else, but from a driving need for love which no obstacle in this world or the next world will break.'

You deserve so much better. Again, I'm so sorry, and I wish you would forgive me; but that's a gift you give yourself, not to me. I'm happy to wait for you, because there is no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. I don't need you Benji, but I want you. And I hope that one day you will feel the same way for me. The reason I didn't say goodbye is because I had a feeling we would meet again, or at least, I wanted it to be a possibility. Even subconsciously I wouldn't allow for that finality of a goodbye. Otherwise, the bridge would have been burned beyond repair.

When Márquez says 'There is no greater glory than to die for love', I hope you know he was mistaken. I want us both to live.

Te amo,

Victor "

Stretching, Victor wiped the accumulated tears from his face with his left arm. When Isabel called him for dinner, he slowly rose from his seat and grabbed one of crutches to make the short yet arduous journey to the kitchen. Once he finished dinner and returned to his room, he passed out in his bed with the lights on and his door ajar.

Isabel, upon passing by Victor's room and hearing him snoring, noticed the light coming from the crack in the door, opting to investigate. She hadn't raised him to waste electricity like that.

Frowning, she peered inside, spotting his computer open on his desk along with a few crumpled up pieces of tissue. She sat down quietly in his chair, examining the screen and reading the letter that Victor had composed earlier. Her brows furrowed as her eyes welled with tears. She knew that part of Victor's therapy was to write himself emails with his feelings and to save them in his drafts, but she couldn't allow this one to go unsent. Glancing back to Victor's form rising and falling on his bed in a slow rhythm, the painting Benji had given him still hanging on the wall, Isabel typed in Benji's email address and titled the email "Mi Vida" before pressing "send".

Grimacing, Isabel closed Victor's laptop as quietly as she could, turned off the lights, and pulled the door shut. She knew that Victor would be furious if he found out what she had done. But the words of his letter had surprised her. She had never read something so heartfelt from her son. When she read his words, she felt like she was being embraced, cocooned with pure and unencumbered adoration. And the fact that he wanted to save those words for himself, and not for the one he loved, was one of the stupidest things Victor had ever done, Isabel thought -- aside from dumping Benji, of course. So, she could face the consequences of her actions when they arose.

Sighing, Isabel returned to her room. She knelt beside her bed and said an extra prayer for her sons to weather their storm; as long as she still breathed, she would fight for them.