It was over, and Finn was sobbing. 

Nakul just held him, liking the way Finn felt when they lay like this, Finn curled up like a half-moon, his back pressed against him. Nakul pressed kisses to his shoulder, to his soft, thin hair.

"You were so good," he whispered, massaging Finn's arm. "You were so pretty."

It wasn't uncommon for someone to cry during a scene, or after, and Finn was no exception. Nakul thought it was good for him. And, because these tears were harmless, Nakul took a certain pleasure in knowing he was the only one out of all of them who had ever seen Finn cry.

Finn started quieting down. Nakul was still in a haze of contentment. Whenever they did this together he stopped noticing how much it hurt to be near Finn. It wasn't the kind of sex where you felt awful again the second you came, it was the kind that helped you forget. Nakul figured this was what they meant by fucking your brains out.

It wouldn't last forever. He knew. And he knew the hurt that would set in later wouldn't last either. His love for Finn would come back - damn it, it would come back - but he'd leave, for a while, and something about the heat, and the monsoon, and the red soil washed the memory of Finn's face from him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he worried, when he left, that it wouldn't this time. But once he arrived home, he knew that it would, and it did. 

Finn had asked once, before Nakul made it a habit and Finn understood why, if Nakul thought it would be fun for everyone to go to India together and see where he grew up. Nakul told him "of course not, the tigers will eat you", and Finn understood there was a real reason why he didn't want them in the country and never mentioned it again. 

Nakul had a minor fear of Finn ever finding his way there, and he'd catch a glimpse of him - an image that came to Nakul with perfect clarity - standing in a kurta in the back of his childhood home, and the scent of the saptaparni tree all around him, looking off wordlessly at something just as the evening gave way to rain. And then Finn would belong to India too, and there would be nowhere else left to go.

Nakul was remembering all of that, and then something about thinking of the scent of saptaparni and Finn at the same time made his heart jolt.

Too bad I'll never fuck him up against one, Nakul thought, trying to keep his thoughts as light as he could, but his ache was in him.

Finn shifted in his arms. Nakul loosened them a little so that Finn could turn over and look at him.

Finn's eyes were welled up with his last tears, and he looked tired from crying. He sniffed, and then said "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

Finn usually slept whenever and wherever he wanted. He'd stay the night in Nakul's bed after, more often than not, but this was the first time he'd bothered asking.

"Sure," said Nakul. "Of course."

Finn wiped his eyes. "Can I sleep in your bed every night?"

Nakul laughed softly. "How am I gonna have girls over?"

Finn just lay with his head on the pillow, looking at him. It was hard to read his face, but his eyes were bright and searching.

"Maybe I don't want you to have girls over," said Finn, in a quiet voice.

Nakul got up on one elbow. His brow creased. "Finn?"

Finn reached out and touched his face. He caressed him, and Nakul searched his eyes, and then, haltingly, Finn moved forward and pressed his mouth to his.

When he pulled back, Nakul took in a breath.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. You can sleep here."

"Every night?" Finn whispered.

Nakul could only nod.

He lay back down slowly, as if something in the room was so fragile that a sudden movement could destroy it. Finn took one of his hands in both of his.

Nakul was stunned into silence. He felt nothing other than an instinct to hold still. And not think. And not feel.

Finn moved a little closer to him, enough to touch his forehead to Nakul's. Nakul listened to him breathe. He wanted to say his name, to call out to him, but he couldn't move.

And then Nakul's eyes slid shut, and everything gave way to a kind of profound calm. Nakul still didn't think, or feel, but something inside of him that had been tensed for centuries relaxed. And that was how they fell asleep.

In the morning Nakul found himself in Finn's arms, and he knew his warmth and the clean scent of his skin as soon as he woke up.

Finn's still here, he thought.

Nakul waking, even though he was still, stirred Finn, and when Finn woke he pulled away and gave him a blurry smile.

Then Finn laughed a pure kind of laugh and leaned forward and rubbed the tip of his nose against Nakul's.

That was how Nakul knew all this was real.

He sat up and grabbed Finn, and he held him, his face pressed to his hair, as if he were trying to force Finn through his skin and into his bones. Finn just slipped his arms around him, gentle and light.

Finn was quiet, and he spent most of the day alone, but he appeared at Nakul's door shortly after Nakul had taken a book upstairs and begun to settle down for the night, holding his favorite blanket and the biggest pillow from his bed. He tossed the pillow down and fluffed it up. Then he flopped on the bed and started getting comfortable, wrapping himself up in the blankets. 

Any doubts Nakul had were gone.

He smiled at Finn, and lowered his book. 

"You're a burrito," he said.

"I was aiming for papoose."

Nakul pressed his lips to his forehead, and he saw Finn's face relax.

They didn't have sex for another three days, but when they did, it was tender. They didn't do anything painful or degrading or rough, which was what they had almost always done, because Nakul gave Finn something that others couldn't easily satisfy. And he went hungering after him when he had that certain desire. Nakul had always liked it - knowing that he was the best. That Finn deeply needed him. 

But this was different. 

Nakul didn't think he'd ever fuck Finn like that. In his long nightshirt, tan-colored, with the remains of a print on the front that was long worn off. There was something gentle about lifting it up so he could have his body, and something gentle about feeling the softness of the fabric when he was holding Finn. 

They lay together, and soon there began an autumn rain. Finn sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, looking at the black squares of the window, and Nakul sat next to him. There was the sky brightening momentarily through distant lightening, and the smell of fallen leaves, and wind. They held hands as they listened to it, and Nakul thought he felt a palpable sadness come from Finn, but he didn't question it. Finn would talk when he was ready.

When the storm faded to a low and steady rain, they slept.

(And the next time they fucked it was harder. Nakul pinning Finn's shoulders down to the bed, Finn with his legs frantic around his waist and fighting to bring him closer, deeper. Then Nakul desperately saying his name and Finn, trembling, cupping his neck and panting "I'm here. I'm here. Oh, God. Don't stop." Their faces together, every shaking breath the same. 

Afterwards, once he was done catching his breath, Finn said it was the best sex he'd ever had. The two of them were curled up like kittens, and Nakul wondered then if Finn loved him. He didn't know, but still he felt so fucking grateful. Finn was there, and alive, and Nakul was holding him.

"Nakul."

"Mm?"

"I need you. Don't leave me. Not for long, not forever."

He said it with a level urgency and Nakul thought of the Bonnie Rachel. And he felt that Finn said it more for Nakul's benefit than his, although he also knew it was true. So he only made a sound and nuzzled Finn's hair. 

Finn was content.)  

Things went on like this for the rest of the week. Finn continued to spend most of his time alone, except for when they went to bed, and didn't talk much to Nakul when he was around him, though when he did his voice was quieter, and it had a certain tone. Nothing as strong as either deference or affection, and somewhere in between - the word, Nakul thought, might be "regard."

One afternoon Finn did look for Nakul in their bedroom, though, and they slow danced to some old torch song on the radio, and when that was over they decided to nap together, but didn't get around to sleeping. While Finn was telling him about something he had seen outside that he found interesting, Nakul lifted up Finn's shirt and rested a hand on his stomach, which was flat but had just a bit of softness to it. Touching Finn there was usually the best and fastest way to get Nakul hard, but while he felt a measure of arousal, he didn't want Finn to stop talking to him. Nakul bent down and kissed just below his navel, and then settled up next to Finn.

Finn's story slowed. He slipped his hand up Nakul's sweater. Nakul was indifferent to his body - he was maybe somewhat out of shape. He knew Finn liked his belly, though. Finn stroked the hair there and said, suddenly, "You're so beautiful. You could have anybody you want."

Nakul wanted to laugh. "Isn't that my line?" 

Finn, a little more seriously than Nakul would have liked - why was he saying this? - told him again: "You  could have anyone."

"Well, I wanted you."

Finn gave him a small smile. He didn't say anything more until bedtime.

Nakul didn't know if the others knew. He doubted it. He would have liked them to, but he was leaving it up to Finn. (And he wished that he could talk about things like this with him directly, but something about Finn felt too delicate. Not yet.) 

One evening it was Finn's turn to cook and he found him in the kitchen chopping carrots. He moved up behind him and put his arms around him, and Finn made a content sound. Athan came down the stairs and Nakul pulled away when Finn did, but he kept one hand on the small of his back, because he knew from the way Finn had been around his casual lovers that this was a way he loved to be touched. Finn and Athan had a brief conversation in Irish (Nakul thought it was about the keys to the van) and Athan left. Nakul didn't think he had noticed.

Finn started coming to bed earlier. One day early enough that Nakul was still watching TV, and Finn sat in bed next to him flipping through the TV Guide. 

Nakul shut off the television and stared at Finn.

He was struck by how real Finn felt, more so than he had ever felt before, and how real what they had together was, and he finally saw that Finn had brought himself into his life. Not in a way that was dramatic, but in a way that when Finn sat in bed past eight o'clock and dried his nails and read a magazine, it was in Nakul's bed that he did it. 

Finn glanced at him and tilted his head. Then he put the guide on the side table, and folded his hands in his lap, and waited.

Nakul pressed his lips to the side of Finn's mouth. For decades they had only kissed during sex, and slightly before and slightly after. This was a sexless kiss. It asked nothing of Finn.

He let Nakul kiss him on the cheekbone, on the eyelashes, and finally, he pressed his closed mouth to Finn's. 

Finn was still.

Carefully, Nakul drew back. 

There was a stricken look on Finn's face. Nakul was filled with the frantic urge to apologize, though he hadn't done anything wrong and he needed Finn to know this. He took Finn's face in his hands, and Finn flinched by a millimeter. Nakul let go of him. He felt as if he had been shot.

He said the only thing he could.

"I will never," Nakul told him, "ever hurt you."

And Finn crawled into Nakul's lap, and wrapped his arms around his neck, and pressed his face to him.

Nakul held him close. How soft that nightshirt was.

He spent a long time touching Finn, in a grounding way, and in again a sexless one - he smoothed his hands over his legs, and up the bottom of his nightshirt to his back, again and again. Finn shuddered a bit, and Nakul thought he might be crying. Nakul pressed his lips to the shell of his ear.

"I love you," he whispered. "So much."

He had never said it to him before. 

Finn fell asleep, and Nakul laid him down, and he lay down next to him, and when he woke up the next morning Finn was not there.

He didn't come home that night.

It was ordinary for Finn to disappear for a little while, though at least half the time he said something. Nakul allowed himself three days to hope for him in that anxious self-hating way you do when you know your cause is lost, and then he accepted that Finn O'Reilly was not going to come back to this bed.

An hour after dinner on the fourth day Nakul was in his bedroom, where he had been almost all the time since Finn left, as if it would do something. He heard the front door open with its loud creak and then shut.

"Dia duit, a Áedáin. Tá sé fuar go leor inniu!"

Nakul's heart was in his throat. 

He lay there for what felt like an eternity, waiting. Finn shuffled around downstairs. Talking, laughter. 

Nakul felt like he was going to puke, so he took a shower to calm down, a long, hot one. When he came back Finn's pillow and blanket were gone from his bed and were, presumably, back in Finn's.

Nakul shut the door. He stood staring at where they used to be. 

There wasn't anything he could do now, he thought. He thought it awkwardly, bluntly. He sat down on the bed, and then he lay down on the bed.

Then he cried. 

He didn't cry often and he didn't think he was going to then, but he did. I'm sobbing like a bitch, he thought to himself. Like a little kid.

And then the pain swelled up and he thought all the things you think of while you're crying, while you're barely more than a child again and all you want to do is wail "it's not fair."

It's not fair, Nakul thought, it's not fair.

Finn never acknowledged any of this in any way.

Except a few months later Nakul was in the kitchen late at night getting a snack, and Finn walked in from the foyer. He looked high off something, and he wasn't wearing anything besides his leather jacket and a jockstrap. He stood in the cased opening. He had that same stricken look. 

"I'm sorry that I happened to you," said Finn stiffly. 

He disappeared down the foyer and out the door.

Nakul stood there trying to process that and then felt something furious burst in him, and he rushed outside - but it was foggy out, and dark. Finn O’Reilly was already gone.

Experimenting with coloring techniques