There's awkward silence now that the laughter's gone and Chris, who knew they'd be meeting and plotted things to say during the whole drive down, whole last week, really, has gone completely blank.

"Chris." Low sound, like a sigh but there's more behind it and then Justin's walking, waving him to walk too. Others are too close. When they're a ways away from everyone,

"I—" Justin stops, turns, faces him. Formal. "I'm sorry I broke your nose."

Chris closes his eyes and breathes in, out. It's more than he thought he'd get and he knows he has to return like with like and he's spent weeks trying to figure out if he's sorry.

Light touch to his face, fingertips on his cheek and he makes a startled sound, can't help it, but apparently Justin's decided to ignore the hands-off warning 'cause the fingers slide over the apple of his cheek, touch his nose and they're gentle and the sound Justin makes is low, pained. Chris echoes it because the flesh there is still tender and then those fingers are gone and he opens his eyes, catches Justin's, sees. Oh, god. And this is the worst thing he's ever done, he knows, because that thing inside Justin that made him bright and shining, that made you forget where he came from, or maybe made him rise above it, that thing is darker now, like tarnish, or faded somehow, and he did that. Made that. And running is always his first instinct but fighting a close second and does he want to fight Justin or himself...

Justin's not sure what Chris is seeing in his face to make that sound, to look like that, but he wants it to stop. He wants to know if his apology has been taken seriously or will be ignored, brushed off, and he wants, still, after all that has come before, to lick up Chris' jawline to his ear and suck the lobe and whisper the rest of what he wants. So Chris better talk soon, accept his apology, at least, before he has to get angry.

And then Chris makes the decision for him. "I said that for a reason." And what does Chris think, he's a child? He asks, furious, and Chris responds in kind and then they're slinging verbal arrows back and forth, but Justin can see that this time, this time Chris is starting to crack and old patterns hold because he jumps on that, there's truth somewhere between them and he wants that, needs it.

"Do you know why I stopped it then?"

And if I did, don't you think I would have stopped you, Justin thinks, but shoots back in that cocky tone he knows pisses people off— "No Chris. Why don't you tell me?"

Deep breath and Chris says, "You would never have left. And I couldn't give you what you need. I'm not that guy."

And Chris wonders if Justin knows what he's saying and is afraid it's yes and is taking steps, shoring defenses when he hears

"How do you know what I needed? How come you get to make decisions about what I wanted?"

And didn't Justin see? He didn't need to repeat mistakes. It's out loud before he realizes it and Justin watches him a minute and says, slow, steady, "What mistakes?"

Fuck, Chris thinks. "You can't just trade situations like that. It doesn't make anything better."

"No? 'Cause it seemed a hell of a lot better up to the point you kicked me out."

Chris is silent, and then "It would have stayed better only a little while. And then it could have been worse than you can imagine."

Justin jumps on that, "Could've? You sold me out for could've?

Tired, then, the response. "Would've."

But the space between those two words was a lost dream and he's so furious he didn't even realize his hands, his shoulders, that familiar posture of war. He stops, turns his back on Chris, counts way past ten. And thinks about how that never would have happened with his dad and about what Chris isn't saying. And realizes he knows nothing of that past, those fears.

Turns back and maybe he's got x-ray vision now because he's seeing behind walls. "We aren't always doomed to repeat our history," he says gently.

And Chris sighs, looks him in the eye and says, "Not if we learn from our mistakes."

"Your mistakes aren't mine."

"They could have been."

"Can they still?"

And that's everything that Chris doesn't want to think about because he can't see his way out of this coil that isn't everything he ever did wrong.

Except... except he just watched Justin not throw that punch, except that Justin seems to be making changes now that he took years to learn, to do, and he doesn't know.

"You run away or you run to." He says it quietly, a hard lesson learned.

"I ran away." Justin says it, just as quiet, then pauses until he has Chris' whole attention. "I could run to."

"It's harder, running to." He knows from personal experience.

"More worth it, though?"

"Yeah."

Justin has been listening hard. Now, "It takes time, I bet, running to." Chris watches him, seems to be listening himself. "I mean, to know if it's worth it."

Chris nods.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."


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