That's not exactly what he's hoping to hear, honestly. But realistically, it's what he'd expected to hear. Finding out that the feeling's mutual would've been nice. That Matt doesn't want to sleep with anybody else either. A best case scenario. Worst case is Matt telling him that this is getting a little too serious, and they should quit. He should be grateful it's not that — he is grateful — but he can't help but to feel just a little bit heartbroken.
It's fine, though. This is fine. Tim said he didn't expect anything else in return, and he meant that. He doesn't expect Matt to feel the same way, because Matt is a million times out of his league and it's a miracle that Tim's still standing in his front hall, honestly. This is middle ground, and while it's not exactly solid, he'll accept it.
Of course, there's still time for the other shoe to drop. Time for Matt to let him down easy, because that's the kind of person Matt is anyway. It's more likely than any of the other scenarios. A worst case. But at least if that is what happens, he'll get the heartbreak over with instead of letting it drag on.
A silver lining may be the best he gets.
He's not drunk. Well, he is drunk. Drunk enough to be unable to drive safely, but not so drunk that he's saying anything he doesn't mean, or anything he'll regret when he wakes up in the morning. It's just the right kind of drunk, the kind he likes being the most.
"I'm fine," he protests, but he steps a little closer to Matt anyway, starting to feel the chill in his bones. It's easier to ignore with the alcohol flushing his system. But he'll never really become accustomed to New York's harsher weather. Afghanistan got cold at night, but at least it was dry. And even Kentucky's winters were mild. But New York is all nipping wind and cold rain and overcast clouds all the time, and he'll never get used to it, he's sure.
"M'sorry," he murmurs after a short moment. "I know you said you were busy tonight."
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It's fine, though. This is fine. Tim said he didn't expect anything else in return, and he meant that. He doesn't expect Matt to feel the same way, because Matt is a million times out of his league and it's a miracle that Tim's still standing in his front hall, honestly. This is middle ground, and while it's not exactly solid, he'll accept it.
Of course, there's still time for the other shoe to drop. Time for Matt to let him down easy, because that's the kind of person Matt is anyway. It's more likely than any of the other scenarios. A worst case. But at least if that is what happens, he'll get the heartbreak over with instead of letting it drag on.
A silver lining may be the best he gets.
He's not drunk. Well, he is drunk. Drunk enough to be unable to drive safely, but not so drunk that he's saying anything he doesn't mean, or anything he'll regret when he wakes up in the morning. It's just the right kind of drunk, the kind he likes being the most.
"I'm fine," he protests, but he steps a little closer to Matt anyway, starting to feel the chill in his bones. It's easier to ignore with the alcohol flushing his system. But he'll never really become accustomed to New York's harsher weather. Afghanistan got cold at night, but at least it was dry. And even Kentucky's winters were mild. But New York is all nipping wind and cold rain and overcast clouds all the time, and he'll never get used to it, he's sure.
"M'sorry," he murmurs after a short moment. "I know you said you were busy tonight."