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“Let me guess. Waffles from scratch, maple syrup that you collected from your own spigots, and freshly churned butter.”

“I don’t think I have any maple trees, and I definitely don’t have a butter churn.” He led Henri to one of the stools by the kitchen island, so massive it was more like a continent. “I could do the waffles, though.”

“I was joking. Toast or cereal would be fine.” Those were the only ‘easy’ foods that Dylan seemed to indulge in, particularly sugary cereal. Henri eased himself onto the stool, mindful of all the ways it might hurt him. When he was satisfied, he looked up and found Dylan staring at him, frozen at the door to his pantry.

“Are you…?” Dylan swallowed and looked away. “Hurt? Sore?”

“I’m fine,” Henri assured him. He was sore, but most of it was his stupid bruise from the game. He wasn’t sure the penalty shot had been worth it, not when the thrill of scoring had worn off but he’d still feel the ache left behind for another week at least. Everything else was a more pleasant sort of memory, the kind he never regretted. “Breakfast?”

He wasn’t all that hungry, but he’d eat whatever Dylan served. Dylan liked taking care of him, and Henri was more than happy to be taken care of.

“Right.” Dylan poked his head into the pantry. It was deceptive, making it seem like a regular closet when it actually continued on for another ten feet. He just happened to keep his vast cereal collection within arm’s reach. “You want Cheerios, Fruity Pebbles, Cinnamon Toast Crunch⁠—”

Henri wrinkled his nose. “Cheerios.” There was no point in hearing more. Each would be less nutritious than the last.

Dylan poured them two massive bowls. Cheerios for Henri, and a melange of colorful cereals for himself. And this was the same man who had made them a rotisserie chicken with rosemary and thyme, eating the kind of breakfast that would only appeal to small children.

As they ate in companionable silence, it was Dylan who broke it.

“I…thought I liked things the way they were with Alexei,” he said.

Henri put down his spoon and looked at Dylan patiently. “Oh?”

Dylan dug out a single Fruit Loop from his milk. “It seemed really good. Years and years together, sharing the same space and team. All the travel and time. After he left, I missed him.”

He seemed ashamed of the admission.

“Of course you missed him,” Henri said. “There’s no shame in that.”

“I know.” Dylan stirred his cereal, the milk more pink than white. “It’s just…I didn’t realize how, maybe, not good things were? Like, it was everything I thought I wanted, and now looking back, I see all the bad parts. The things that weren’t fair or okay. So it doesn’t make me sad that it’s over anymore. It makes me sad that it never was what I thought it was.”

Henri nodded. “When we are in the thick of things, it can be hard to see the forest for the trees.”

Dylan snorted. “Forget the trees. I was admiring some leaves from about two inches away from my face. I didn’t even know I was in a forest.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. There used to be bags under his eyes, Henri realized. That was what he’d noticed most about Dylan at the end of last season. For all his smiles and good moods, he’d been carrying a loss with him. He hadn’t let it slow him down, but it had clearly been taking its toll.

And now it was nearly gone, known more for its absence than its presence. In the way Dylan’s chest could fill with laughter, or the way he was sleeping soundly. In his affectionate smiles as he opened his home to Henri and delighted in sharing the space instead of simply occupying it at the same time.

“I’m sorry he didn’t treat you as well as you deserve,” Henri offered. He could hardly hear what he was saying over the way his heart pounded in his ears. “I’ll try not to take any of this for granted. Take you for granted.”

He couldn’t. Not when the past few weeks had been some of the best of his life. If he broke Dylan’s heart, it would be through the circumstances of his contract; if he had any choice at all, he wouldn’t hurt Dylan.

“See, that’s the thing,” Dylan said. His voice was thick, and his blue eyes glistened. “You’re kind of the exact opposite of Alexei in so many ways. That’s what helped me understand what was missing before. I couldn’t see all the ways things sucked until you showed me how much better they could be.”

Henri felt like his chest was going to explode.

Suddenly, words were overrated. Breakfast sure as fuck was overrated, and so was being separated by this stupid kitchen island as big as Australia. Henri pushed up and rounded its granite edge and threw himself into Dylan’s waiting arms. He kissed Dylan and poured his heart into it.

I am so happy to be here with you. I’ll stay and share it all with you, as long as I’m able to. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself anymore. I adore you.

Dylan pulled him into his lap and held him so close it didn’t feel like they were two people anymore. Like Henri had found a way to crawl inside and live in Dylan Everett’s soul.

Do you feel it too?

He gasped for air and pulled away just enough to breathe. Dylan looked as dazed as he felt.

“Back to bed?” Dylan asked, the sound more like a breeze than a voice. His gaze kept roaming Henri’s face, as if he didn’t know which part he most wanted to soak in.

“We have practice in a few hours.”