Work Text:
The envelopes contents had been closure enough.
An orchestral version of ‘Tears of Laughter’ playing throughout the parlour, a sombre eulogy delivered and the weeping to follow by Lens own daughter had stayed with him long after the coffin had been lowered into ground. He can’t shake it, the feeling of everyones eyes on him as he had walked off, away from the priests baritone and the pitying expressions. And he had stood outside, fighting the urge to nick down to the shops for a cigarette pack; something he hadn’t touched in 20 years, but it had been niggling away at him, and he had kicked a stone to placate the urge.
He had sat in Lens living room, on his couch, surrounded by all of his things, all of these people both of them had known, and it had hurt. But he had kept it together. With a paper plate in hand that had held a few pieces of cheese, he had stared out at everyone; at the smiling faces and the laughter and how though this is what Len had wanted...it had felt so wrong for him to be there. And after a few words exchanged with Leanne, with no one casting him a glance as he headed to the door, he had left for his hotel.
///
Now, a train back to France later, being settled in his flat with 3 sleepless nights behind him since getting back, he sits at the kitchen table. A mug of peppermint tea cupped between his hands, he blows softly on it and blinks wearily at the moonlit carpet. His chest aches. Everything aches. He hasn’t stopped aching since the funeral.
And he eyes the sharp paring knife by his fingers.
The envelope should have done it.
And yet.
This could do such a better job.
He’s never going to get it from Len himself. From anyone. And so ending it, well….why not?
Tommys index finger brushes the handle.
The knowledge of having to wake up tomorrow, to walk into the office and put on a smile and bury himself in a job that is a great departure from a life he once loved; a deliberate decision of course...though in all truth, he dreads it. He fucking despises it.
And maybe it makes him weak, to be honest like this.
But it’s not a life he wants, nor has any desires to be in.
Because the one he does yearn for….he can never have back.
And that breaks every part of him.
Lips trembling, his fingers skate over the black plastic and he takes it in a firm grip to raise it to eye level. Moonlight glints onto its blade as he turns it, and his heart begins to pick up, the thought sneaking into his mind, becoming so enticing with every second to pass.
He could do it. He could so easily do it…
Hot tears pool over his eyes, and he blinks so they cascade down his cheeks. More come, but he doesn’t stop them.
He just wants this to stop. The pain. Missing him.
God he misses him.
It’s only then does Thomas’ gaze catch, past the blade, the steam rising from his cup, and he reaches towards it to take a sip, the liquid scalding his throat as he sets it down again.
The heat settles into his body, and he looks to the knife again. But with the comfort of his drink, the thought has diffused a fracture and he carefully sets it down. Though keeps it close.
“Don’t do it, Tommy.”
Len. He can feel him sitting across from him, regarding him quietly, and tears sting his eyes again.
He takes up the knife a second time, to spite him, saying bitterly, “Why not? You did it.”
Silence. Except for Tommys shuddering breaths. He watches his tears gather on the glass, his fingers beginning to shake as he inches the knife closer, closer to his wrist. One cut, and his thoughts would be placated.
But. Len. He’s here.
He’s here.
And the knife clatters to the table as he looks up at him, a surge of anger going through him as Len simply gazes back; though unflinching, it’s his eyes- sad, pleading, hoping Tommy has enough sense in him to stop this nonsense.
Thankfully, he does. Or maybe it’s the guilt. The burning guilt that just won’t fucking leave.
“Fuck…” The tears fall harder, now, and he takes his glasses off, his voice muffled as he holds a hand to his eyes, “Fuck, Len..I miss you so much…”
“I know you do....”
He turns away, ashamed that Len had to see him. Has to see him in such a fragile state, and he prays Len goes. He wants him to go. Doesn’t he?
No.
A chair is scraped back, footsteps pad across the carpet, and in moments, Tommy is pulled into Lens arms, his head resting on his shoulder and it takes a moment for him to realise that Len is knelt, that he’s been taken off the chair and is on his own knees, and Tommy sinks into his embrace, hand clutching onto his jumper.
Tommy watches the moonlight as he calms, the grip on the fabric loosening as his tears gradually stop and he feels Len run a hand over his back, soothing him. Holding him tighter, Tommy swallows before exhaling a tired sigh as he perches the glasses back on his nose.
“What am I doing?”
Lens reply is gentle, “Your best, Tommy.”
He scoffs, “Yeah, that’s a laugh.”
“I’m serious!”
And he’s gingerly pried away to look at him; Lens face is soft, his blue eyes watery as he holds him at arms length, “You’ve done really well after us. Earning a six figure salary, with your own company.”
Tommy looks away, a heaviness in his chest, “But I’m not happy, Len. I haven’t been happy since…”
His voice trails away. He can’t finish that sentence.
But a glance to Len and it dawns on him that he doesn’t need to. Because of course Len understands.
“And I don’t know how to get that back,” he continues.
“Maybe you won’t, then,” comes his blunt reply.
Tommys gaze drifts back to him, his brows furrowing, but Len doesn’t give him a chance to interject.
“You can’t replace me, Tommy. We both know that.” He smiles sadly. “And we’re too old for it, anyway.”
“That’s not my point.”
“Then what is?”
His hands fall away as he leans back on his heels, “I need you, Len. I can’t keep doing this.”
Lens palms rest on his lap, “Tommy..you can. You have to - “
“Why!? Why should I drag myself out of bed every morning, go to a job that isn’t me - be someone else….” And he stops himself, the words dying in his throat. But somehow he manages to choke them out, “When you’re not here?”
Lens eyes search him, his voice quiet, “Why do I mean so much to you?”
He sighs again, “You always have,” he says, a lilt of amusement in his voice before it becomes bitter, “I spent years looking after you and your family, Len. Christ, you were the most important person in my life; I would’ve done anything for you.”
Lens gaze darkens, “Even killing yourself?”
A silence falls over the room, and Tommy's stomach turns as he thinks back on the knife. Was he? No. No he just wanted the thoughts to stop.
But.
“If it meant being with you…”
And something casts over Lens face. Sudden tears shine in his eyes.
“No - Tommy, don’t say that.” He forces a smile as he takes a wrist in each hand. “I’m here - “
And Tommy wrenches them back, his tone harsh as he spits, “But you’re not...are you?”
The smile dissolves.
“It’s just in my head..” And his voice softens, tears pooling his eyes again. “Because you’re never coming back.”
An audible swallow, Lens gaze drifts down his face, “No. No I’m not.”
Tommys lip trembles. Emotion swells in his throat, and he nods, almost to confirm it to himself as Len looks at him again, watching as he tilts his head towards the knife.
“That’s it, then. There’s no reason to keep going.”
“Of course there is - “
“Then tell me.” And Tommy looks sharply back at him, “What is it?”
Silence.
He scoffs, Len watching him stand as he begins fumbling for the words. And just as Tommy reaches for his drink -
“What about your company?”
He frowns, “My...what - ?”
“Leanne.”
A pause as Tommy slowly turns to him, and Len continues, his voice soft.
“You promised to look after her, remember?”
He hesitates, feeling something plummet into his chest as the memory resurfaces; of him and Len in the kitchen one late night, a cup of tea each in front of them, very similar to this, but Len was crying. Saying that if he takes a downward spiral -
“You won’t -,” Tommy says firmly, but Len cuts him off.
“If I do.” He laces Tommys fingers with his own. “I want you to promise me something.”
And Tommy looks back at him, his eyes red-rimmed, his gaze steady.
“Anything.”
“I want you to look after Leanne. When I go…” His voice falls away a moment, but he brings it back as he squeezes his hand. “Please don’t lose her.”
Fuck. He couldn’t even do that.
“I - “
“I know you couldn’t.”
And Len pushes himself to stand, hands in his pockets as he levels him.
“I know she cut you off...for good reason, too. Our Leanne’s always been strong like that.” A faint smile comes across his face. “But she always knew you were there, Tommy.”
“She has a husband now. A little boy.”
“I know,” Unshed tears brim Lens eyes.
“She doesn’t need me anymore,” he says firmly.
Len forehead creases, the tears now falling onto his cheeks, “Of course she fucking does. You were like a father to her!”
Tommy swallows, but he stays silent.
“More than I ever was.”
And he goes to interject, but Len doesn’t let him as he steps closer.
“You’ve always been there for her. Even if she didn’t want you to be, you still let her know you were...and you still would.”
Casting his eyes down, Lens words sink into him; that little girl of only 9, now a beautiful young woman who he still sees as a daughter, though she thinks of him an uncle. Taking a large breath in, he slowly exhales as he nods again.
“I can’t just sit back and let you do this to yourself, Tommy,” he says firmly. “How you let it eat away at you...and to even consider the idea of taking your own life...I won’t have you being here.”
“You wouldn’t have me when you were alive, either.”
Lens forehead creases, “What’re you talking about - “
“The last words you said to me, Len. You told me to fuck off, to leave. So I did.”
“No, I didn’t - “
“You did!” He swallows around the lump in his throat. “After everything I did for you. For your family. Sacrificing my career, my happiness, to keep you alive, because no way in hell would I have let that girl grow up without a father.” A shaking breath escapes him. “But then I realised I was wearing myself down trying to keep you afloat.”
“So why did you do it?”
And Tommy steps towards him, the anguish etched in his features as the words claw out of his throat. The ones he’s kept hidden for 30, long, painful years.
“BECAUSE I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU!”
And stunned into silence, Len watches Tommy remove his glasses, hand to his eyes again as he takes a large breath in. For a moment, Len makes an attempt to reach out for him, but Tommy backs off, shaking his head.
“No...Len, don’t.”
“...Tommy, I….”
“I wasn't ever in love with Rachel, Len.” Putting his glasses back on, his brows thread together as he holds his gaze. “I wanted to tell you, so many times. But you were always drunk or drinking or passed out, and I had to tend to Leanne, make sure she was ready for school the next day. And I stayed. I always stayed. And you never once wondered why.” He stops himself, feeling hot tears prick his eyes as he whispers, “I never got to tell you any of this.”
Len moves towards him, a gentleness laced in his voice, “You’re telling me now.”
“I’m not."
“You are. It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re imagining me.”
Lifting a hand, Tommy lets him brush his tears away, his eyes slowly closing as Lens fingers trail down his cheek, his skin, where his thumb scratches his beard.
“Can you feel me, Thomas?”
A shuddering breath escapes him, “....Yes.”
He continues down, over his jaw, his neck, catching a loose thread on his pyjama shirt before coming to a stop...where he rests his palm against his heart.
“I can feel you, too.”
At his words, Tommys heart begins to speed up, the consistent ache through him tenfolding as he opens his eyes, for Len to be gazing back at him.
“But it doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means you’re alive.”
Something sours in him, “I meant for you.”
“Of course it does.”
But he turns away, and Lens hand slips from his shirt to come to his side. It’s just too much. It always will be.
“You’re not here,” he repeats firmly.
“But you are - “
And he spins back around, a hardness in his features. “I wish I wasn’t. I don’t need to be - “
“You do - “
“Why?! I - “ But his voice cuts off as the emotion catches in his throat and he drifts back to the table, fingers trailing the knife's handle as he says softly, “Please...Len, leave me alone.”
“Tommy…”
“I just want to stop thinking about you….”
Coming towards him, Len places a hand on his arm, and Tommy doesn’t flinch. He watches the knife, notices the moonlight on the glass, as Len speaks,
“Think about Leanne. About her mother, Leannes little boy. How they’ll feel if you do this - “
Tommys head jerks up, “What about what you did, Len? You left your child, your wife, you left ME.”
Something in him breaks as his gaze roams him, “I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be here.”
“Just not in the way I want you to be,” he confirms bitterly and Len looks away as he snatches his arm back. Reaching over for his cup, he heads to the sink to dump it, and gives himself a moment to listen to the drain gurgling. Something real, something grounding, before he returns to him.
And Len speaks the second their gazes meet, his voice sombre, a pleading in his eyes.
“I can’t take back what I did; I would if I could. You don’t think I have my own regrets, Tommy?” A sharp coil settles in him as Len gestures a hand across the air. “Watching my brother walk Leanne down the aisle, realising I’ll never get to hold my grandson...it’s a constant reminder of how I should’ve done better, been better, for all of you. Because none of you deserved to put up with my bullshit.”
Tommy quietly watches him.
No. No they didn’t.
“But we did.”
“Why - ?!”
“Because we loved you.” Tremor evident in his voice, he continues, Lens gaze sweeping him in bewilderment. “You were a good person, Len. But you were sick, and I had to be there for them. And that’s just how it was.”
“But you didn’t have to be!” Lens eyes shine with tears as he comes towards him. “What I put you through, it - “
“It was one of the worst experiences of our lives,” Tommy cuts in, and Len falls silent. “But you know what was even harder?”
He swallows.
“Losing you.” He wipes a loose tear away. “Getting the phone call from Leanne to say you had passed. I was in the middle of a meeting, and I had to leave early, and when I caught the train home, I phoned her back and we cried. It destroyed us, Len.”
Lens eyes fill with tears. “So why do you think I’m here?”
He frowns.
“So I can stop you from putting other people through exactly what I did! I don’t want Leanne to lose another father!”
And that does it.
Tommy sinks into the chair, a chill ricocheting through him. His knees feel suddenly weak, and he drops his face in his hands as the sobs overtake his body. But Len doesn’t take him in his arms this time. Not yet.
The sound of the cutlery drawer is heard, before something is dropped in and it’s promptly shut.
A moment later, Tommy is enveloped into a hug, Lens arms winding around him and holding him tight as his body shakes violently. Everything; the pain, the sadness, the regret and shame is poured out of him as he bawls into his chest, and Len cradles his head against him.
“Sh...Tommy…”
He carefully helps him to stand, and Tommy buries his head into his shoulder as Len runs circles over his back.
“Sh, hey….it’s alright…”
Somehow, through the tears, Tommy chokes out his name, only to be shushed again, but when he begins to gingerly wrestle out of his grip, Lens hold on him loosens, and Tommy lifts his head to look at him, eyes puffy and red-rimmed.
“I need to know something.”
Lens hand comes around to stroke his cheek, and Tommy swallows thickly, something fluttering in his chest at the touch but he pushes it down to continue. And, steeling himself, the words fall out.
“Do you love me?”
“Tommy…” He breathes a disbelieved laugh. “Of course I do. I always have.”
Tommys gaze diverts, “No - No, I mean - “
“I know what you mean.”
Rendered silent, Tommy watches as Lens face softens, the pad of his thumb lightly skimming his beard and Tommys eyes close again, a gentle sigh passing his lips.
It’s all in your head.
No.
This isn’t real.
Stop.
He isn’t here.
Leave.
He’s gone, he’s dead, he’s never coming back -
“Tommy?”
His eyes open.
Len is watching him steadily, and as it takes a second for Tommy to register that his movements have stilled, another passes before he feels the wetness on his cheeks, feels the pain in his chest. It’s come back. Hard.
“Len…,” he whispers.
And he rests a hand on his.
It all feels so amazingly real, scarily so if Tommy thinks too much on it; Lens fingers curling around his own, the warmth of them. The gentle reassuring squeeze he gives as Tommys eyes fill with tears again, because god maybe if he just tries. If he lets this linger, embeds this moment, of Len being here, in front of him. Touching him, comforting him.
Then maybe.
Maybe he could have this. Have him.
In whatever way he wants.
And he lets himself lean forward, their foreheads touching briefly before their noses brush...and Lens lips carefully meet his.
He blinks, then, the tears falling to their mouths. Tasting salt as he cups a hand to the base of Lens neck to bring him closer, the other mans arm encircles his waist, his fingers bunching in Tommys pyjama shirt -
No.
Tommy breaks away, heavy breaths expelling from him as his head falls to Lens chest, as the pain sears through him and god...he hates him for putting that knife back.
He can’t. He can’t fucking do this.
“Tommy - “
“You’re not real,” he murmurs, another sob choking from him. “You can’t - I can’t….I need you…”
“...Please…”
And Lens voice falters.
He lifts his head, Tommy swallowing hard as their gazes meet; Lens face is flushed, his eyes sparkling with unbridled joy and a strong desire courses through him.
God, he just…
He wants…
This.
Him.
And he surges forward, his eyes closing as their mouths meet in a desperate kiss. Clutching at his jumper, Tommy presses Len against him, a low moan falling from his throat as he feels Lens fingers thread through his hair.
“Len - “
“Sh…”
For a moment, the action has Tommy come back to his senses and he slows his movements as they part from one another. Body prickling with heat, Tommys gaze roams him, a hot coil settling into the pit of his stomach as he takes note of how Lens chest is heaving, his pupils blown; yet, somehow, he still manages to keep his desire for Tommy at bay.
With his hand warm on Tommys scalp, Len stretches up to kiss his forehead and a shiver goes through him as Lens stubble grazes his skin, his voice soft.
“Let’s take this to the bedroom, aye?”
Tommy swallows hard, nodding as Len takes his hand to lead him upstairs.
///
Once there, Len draws Tommy into his arms to kiss him gently, and Tommy sighs into his mouth, the momentum of his heart picking up again as he feels his thighs hit the bed. With a firm hand on his back, Len breaks away to lower him onto the mattress, before removing Tommys shirt and casting it aside onto the floor. Tommy reaches up to cup his cheeks, thumbs skimming over his stubble as they gaze into each-others eyes.
And a small smile curls his lips.
“I love you, Len…”
Hands trail to his arms, the cotton of his shirt splayed between Tommys fingers as Len lowers himself to his ear, his hot breath staining the younger mans skin.
“Let me take care of you, alright?”
Tommy exhales a shaking breath, “Okay.”
A quiet moan falls from him as he feels Len kiss the side of his neck, and his eyes flutter closed. He wants this. God, he’s wanted this for so long.
“Len - “
But he’s silenced by Lens mouth on his collarbone.
Slowly, he makes his way down, Tommys grip on the fabric tightening as he feels him lightly run the tip of his tongue over his nipple, the action causing his face to burn.
Because god, if that doesn’t turn him on more…
Capturing his bottom lip between his teeth, Lens fingers skate over his torso, a palm enclosing around his middle while the other drifts down to his boxers, and Tommys hips arch as the tips of his fingers skim the head of his cock.
His hands slide under Lens shirt, to pull him closer as a strangled moan claws out of his throat.
“Len…please - “
“Shh, Tommy…” And he presses a gentle kiss to his heart. “It’s okay…”
Lens hold on him tightens and Tommy feels goosebumps rise on his skin as their breathing becomes heavier, fingers working to tug the waistband of his boxers down. And in seconds, Lens mouth is on his again, Tommys hands raking through his hair as he kisses him like he’s drowning.
In one quick move, Len slides the garment from his legs, making no hesitation in enclosing a warm palm around Tommys cock, and Tommy breaks sharply away to cry his name.
“Fuck, I - mm - “
“Sh…” A tender kiss to his mouth has Tommy fall silent again, though a gasp spills over as Len begins to slowly stroke him. He nuzzles his face into Tommys neck, softly nipping at his skin.
“You’ve done so much for me…”
Heat pools in his lower abdomen and he groans as Len works him.
“Let me do this for you…”
Tommy takes his arms again, beginning to rut his hips for more, but Len keeps a steady pace, whispering reassures in his ear as Tommy gradually becomes a puddle beneath him.
A thin sheen of sweat covers his body, and it’s only then does Tommy become aware of a musky smell permeating the room. He inhales sharply, a sudden dizziness coming over him as he desperately rocks into Lens hand,
“Len...ah...please…”
Another tender kiss has him quieten, the fingers of Lens free hand encircling his hip to hold him to the mattress.
“Not long now…”
A burning ignites in him, the coil threatening to snap as Tommy feels his orgasm build and he rests his head against Lens, hands coming underneath his shirt again to press Len into him as he whispers ‘please’ over and over and over.
Please hold me. Please let me come.
Please stay with me.
“I’m not going anywhere…,” Len says softly, and it undoes something in him; a release of emotion, and in moments, Tommy begins to cry.
A desperate, broken, mess, in more ways than one.
Yet Len kisses him, delicately, before Tommy rises up, salt falling past their lips as his fingers come up to tangle through his hair.
And when they part, Tommys eyes open.
To see Len looking back at him, with his own unshed tears, though behind them...is only pure love and adoration.
“You mean the world to me, Tommy. You always have.”
A sob chokes out of him, and Lens free hand cups his cheek.
“I love you, so so much.”
And Lens lips press against his for a final time, as a shattering pleasure overtakes him and Tommy clings onto his shirt, crying Lens name as he cums hard into his palm.
His body stills, heat sinking into him as his grip on Len loosens and he falls limp into the mattress. Ragged breaths expel from him, a dizzying bliss shrouding his mind as he gazes up at the ceiling, now completely spent of energy.
Something drops beside him, a heavy weight, and Tommy turns his head, his body soon following when he realises what - or rather, who - it is.
Len.
He’s still here.
Watery blue eyes fix on his own, and Tommy lifts a trembling hand to stroke Lens cheek. To make sure. To prove to himself that he’s not imagining this, he can’t be.
Oh.
It’s his stubble. It pricks his skin.
He’s real.
Tommy swallows, watching as Lens own hand comes to rest on his, before he’s moving forward to gently kiss him, Tommy sighing in his mouth.
“It’s alright...”
Lens arms envelop him, Tommy curling into his embrace as his fingers card through his damp hair, as he whispers sweet nothings to him and Tommy sighs as he feels sudden waves of exhaustion crash over him.
With hardly a drop of energy in his body, his head cradled against Lens chest and the comforting warmth and familiar smell of gin and cigarette smoke bathing his senses, Tommy lets himself drift into sleep, the last thing he hears being the rhythmic thump of Lens heartbeat.
///
It’s the cool morning breeze coming through an open window that wakes him, though eyes staying closed, Tommy fumbles for the duvet in a half awake state. After a tousle, he manages to get the duvet over himself and he relaxes into the mattress, a smile curling his lips as he remembers last night.
Last night.
Len.
Len.
Len -
…
His eyes open.
And the cold realisation. The sickening dread, the reality, crashes over him, and his heart drops into his stomach.
He’s alone.
He always was.
And like that, Tommy dissolves into sobs, the pain cutting sharply through him and he wraps his arms around himself as he sinks into his pillow.
///
He calls in sick to work that day.
///
- A Week Later -
Sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of peppermint tea cupped in both hands, Tommy gazes out the window at the myriad of bright colours streaking the sky. Orange rays beam through onto the carpet as the sun gradually sets below the horizon, and Tommy takes a tentative sip, wincing as it scalds his throat and he sets it down.
Beside the knife.
A hollow, empty feeling snakes into him, as his fingers brush over the black plastic handle and biting his bottom lip, he swipes it up to hold at eye level.
Evening light glints off the blade and his heart suddenly begins to race, the thought, the idea, becoming so entrancing to him…
He could do it. One cut and the pain would go, replaced by another, much better one. An easier one to manage.
Across from him, he sees his watery blue eyes in the glass, a softness to his features as he speaks though there’s a pleading in his voice Tommy has become all too familiar with.
“Don’t do it, Tommy.”