Someday We Can Start Again CH1

He still felt lost. After a year. He still had no idea whether the decision had been the best thing for him, or the worst. He'd thought leaving would make things right. Make him feel strong. He wouldn't have to see Tulio and Chel doting and kissing. Wouldn't have to curl into Altivo and cover his ears to try to stifle the sound of the one he'd loved for years sharing his affections with someone he barely even knew.
He lived his life mechanically now, found no joy in anything, never genuinely laughed or smiled anymore. All his and Tulio's friends and 'colleagues', as it were, had asked as to his whereabouts. Miguel had just blankly responded that he wasn't around anymore and hurried the conversation along.
It was a freezing winter evening that found him in his shoddy rented apartment, staring into space and trying to summon up the energy to go out and 'work'.
Tulio stared up at the imposingly derelict building, rocking back and forth on his feet anxiously and half-watching his breath fog in the freezing air. Miguel hadn't been hard to find - people rarely forgot him and seemed glad to part with his whereabouts when they saw it was Tulio that was asking. By all accounts, Miguel had been . . . subdued after re-joining the real world, after leaving him and Chel.
Tulio winced. Chel. Of course he should have expected to wake up one morning and turn over in their shared bed to see her going through his bag for shiny things, but the strange thing was . . . it hadn't hurt as much as he would expect it to. It hadn't felt like a lover's betrayal.
They had parted. Simple as that. There were no lingering feelings of regret that one would expect, just faint irritation that she'd got the horse when they divided their things. That was all.
Tulio took a deep breath and walked towards the door.
Miguel could have kicked himself for almost leaving the shutters open. Sure, no-one local to the town would steal from him (either because they were his friend or because they knew it really wasn't worth the bother), but others might. As he leaned out into the night, he almost had a heart attack as he registered the all-too familiar man below at his door. He grabbed the shutters and slammed them shut, before proceeding to collapse into a quivering pile under the window.
Tulio's head snapped upwards in shock when he heard the hollow sound of shutters slamming closed and he fought to control his breathing, trying to calm his heart down, which had already been on high alert but now appeared to be trying to punch its way out of his chest. He exhaled slowly and waited a few tense seconds for any more movement inside before he reached forwards and tried the door handle.
He knew the door to the patio on the lower apartments was unlocked, and he cringed as he heard Tulio opening it. But if Miguel was quick, he'd still have a chance to lock his own. He moved for it, but gave a surprised yelp as his legs disobeyed and instantly gave way underneath him. Fuck all.
Tulio heard a muffled yelp from somewhere above him and quickened his pace, instantly, instinctively worried for his friend, even after all this time. He hurried up the steps as quietly as possible and made a beeline towards what he judged, from the position of the window, to be Miguel's door.
Miguel gave a frustrated snarl from his position, but made the resolution that, even if Tulio got in, he wasn't going to find a warm welcome. He stopped outside the warped door, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and catch his breath before lightly tapping on the wood, like a nervous messenger, not wanting to spook Miguel further.
"Fuck off, I'm too bloody weak for surprises."
Tulio flinched at Miguel's words - he'd never known the man to use such coarse language.
"Miguel, let me in. Please."
Miguel gave a harsh bark of sarcastic laughter, his tone becoming impossibly sour.
"Now why the /hell/ would I want to do that? Besides, I thought you were busy 'forgetting Miguel'?"
Tulio swallowed, his head dipping slightly in shame. Of course Miguel wouldn't want to see him, after what he'd said. He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Certainly not /this./
"If you don't let me in now, I'll just open the door and you'll have no choice."
"Do want you want, but let me make it clear that /I/ won't be the one to open that door." He knew he was in no position to physically stop him, so he'd have to keep guilting him. This collapsing wasn't new to him - he hadn't been eating or sleeping right, not to mention he was... overexerting himself.
Tulio gritted his teeth in frustration and opened the door, leaning on the doorhandle with more force than was necessary. He hesitated in the doorway, his eyes struggling to cope with the gloom. He started to speak - "Miguel, where . . ." - but the words died in his throat when he saw Miguel on the floor. Miguel glared up at him with absolute contempt.
"Well what were you expecting, a.." he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to ward off his headache. "party?"
Tulio took a shocked, leaden step towards him, barely even registering Miguel's words - only the tone, and it stung.
"Are you . . . OK?" It sounded stupid, even to his ears.
"Just. /Brilliant/." he hissed, voice dripping with sarcasm, furious at the question. "Now, if you don't mind my asking, why the /hell/ are you here?"
Tulio shifted his gaze to a dent in the far wall, unable to watch the burning fury in Miguel's eyes any longer.
"I wanted to . . . to see you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, painfully aware of how weak he sounded. Miguel nodded.
"Ok, well, now you have," he said with a wide, false smile as he attempted to pull himself up but only got a headrush. "Door's that way."
Tulio ignored him and took another step forwards, half-raising his hand but hesitating, letting it hang there.
"Christ, what's /happened/ to you, at least let me help you /up/ . . ."
He would've welcomed help from anyone else. But this was something his pride wouldn't allow.
"Oh, just leave, would you?"
"No," Tulio replied shortly, taking a bold stride so he was directly in front of his . . . he hoped he could still call Miguel a friend, although the likelihood of that was swiftly dwindling. "Let me help you."
"I said /no/!" Miguel snapped. He meant for it to come out viciously, but it was considerably quieter than he would have liked.
"/Please,/ Miguel," Tulio said as he extended a hand to the other man. "Let me help you to your bed, and then I'll go."
Tulio hoped that Miguel, in his floorbound state, couldn't see that he had no intention whatsoever of leaving.
"You're looking at it." Miguel growled and threw an arm in the general direction of a tatty pile of cushions as he tried to battle a dizziness that was coursing through him, making his head spin and vision cloud. For the first time since entering, Tulio looked around and fully took in the cramped, dark, dingy, practically empty room that was Miguel's home. He sucked in an astonished breath through his teeth.
"Shit, Miguel, what are you /doing/ here?"
"In terms of living... not much." the blond replied, his words beginning to merge together.
"And in terms of . . . whatever else?" Tulio asked, concern tinting his tone as he crouched down to Miguel's level, worried by the way he was speaking. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the ceiling.
"What else is there?" he asked flatly, rhetorically, before his vision went black and he went completely limp.
For one shocked, long moment, Tulio couldn't move. He had /passed out/. Passed. Out. Tulio thought it was bad, but this . . . He regained control of his body and took Miguel by the shoulders, supporting him as best he could. Miguel remained lax in his arm, almost drooping. Things suddenly stood out - dark circles, the lack of smile-lines, the pallor of his skin.
Tulio carefully moved him, so he was leaning against the wall more securely, and looked him up and down. He looked . . . exhausted.
"Miguel? . . . Miguel, wake up."
Miguel showed no sign of response. His chest was moving up and down a little erratically - but slowly, like he was sleeping. His body was catching up on rest. Tulio swore under his breath and shifted around to sit beside him, careful of his personal space but still close.
"Come /on/, partner . . ." The term slipped out of his mouth without him thinking about it, even after a year. Had he been left to his own devices, he'd have probably been out a few hours more, but Tulio was beginning to coax him out of his haze.
"IthoughtIsaidleave..."
"Yeah, well, I didn't listen, did I," Tulio replied, staring straight ahead and trying to keep the relief out of his voice.
"You never do..." he murmured thickly, eyes flickering slowly open.
"I suppose I haven't changed much, then," Tulio said, giving an ironic, entirely unhappy snort. "Are you alright?"
"No." he replied simply, flatly, rubbing circles in the skin of his face. Tulio nodded silently, avoiding eye contact with the broken-looking man next to him, shivering slightly in the frigid air of the apartment.
Miguel sighed heavily, closing his eyes again, and decided to ask the ever-looming question.
"Where's Chel?"
"Who knows," Tulio replied, after a heavy pause. He shifted on the hard wooden floor, trying to get comfortable. "She left."
"Oh, uh... I'm sorry." Miguel murmured, leaving his eyes closed with a deadpan face to disguise how the news made his heart flutter.
"No, you're not." Tulio winced and moved away from a nail sticking out of the wall, digging into his back. "It was fine, anyway. Mutual thing."
"Things didn't work out?"
"No." He gave a tired smile. "They didn't."
"Right..." Miguel felt very interested in the floor, all of a sudden. Just because Chel was out of the picture... it didn't change what had happened.
The silence in the room was like a leaden weight on Tulio's shoulders. He'd never felt so awkward, so out of place, in Miguel's company, but a year is a long time to be apart. The voice of the landlord's wife from the lower apartments broke the silence.
"Miguel, quierido, aren't you... /working/?" This made the blond wince, glancing up at Tulio to make sure he hadn't cottoned on an sighed. "No... thanks, though, Valentina."
"/Working?/ Don't tell me this year has made an honest man out of you," Tulio tried, uttering a single, awkward syllable of laughter, which died as soon as he saw Miguel's expression. "Miguel, what's going on?"
"No. It's made me worse. You don't want to know, but it's probably what you're thinking," he said slowly, his gaze on the floor intensifying.
"It can't be as bad as what I'm . . ." Tulio trailed off. He looked Miguel up and down, taking in his dishevelled appearance, the dark rings on his cheekbones, the dullness in his eyes, and the penny began to drop. "Miguel . . ."
"Only job someone like me can get. I worked in a tavern for a while-- well, I... I guess techinally I.. still do..." he muttered with a humourless laugh. Tulio's eyes were almost too wide for their sockets and his mouth hung open, more shocked than he'd ever been in his life.
"You . . ." was all he could manage, his voice hushed. Miguel chewed his lip and shrugged.
"Pays better than the bar job... there was nothing else I could do. I'm hopeless at conning on my own, hopeless at stealing on my own... I haven't sung or touched any type of musical instrument in over a year, before you suggest that... I just can't anymore."
"/Why not?/" Tulio whispered, his voice strangled and horrified. "/Anything/ would be better than... this."
"Did I not just /explain/," Miguel said slowly and gruffly. "that there's nothing else I can do? I hadn't even intended to do it originally. Until I started noticing how your gender mattered less the more drunk the patrons got. How they'd try to grab your arse as you pass them or try to persuade you to kiss them. One day one got to the point and offered a fair bit of cash... and so began my fruitful career."
"How long have you . . ." Tulio swallowed and cleared his throat, his tone faint and disbelieving. "How long has this been going on for?"
"Around... I-I'd say around nine and a half months." he said delicately, hanging his head slightly, cheeks flushing with shame.
"Shit," Tulio said in a low voice, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. "Why didn't you come and /find/ me? I would have helped you - Christ, nine and half /months,/ Miguel."
"I had no idea where you were!" his voice grew high pitched with irritation. "And besides, I was trying to forget you too!!"
Tulio took a deep breath, dropping Miguel's gaze and distractedly fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"And had you?" he asked, his voice quiet and resigned.
"Not for a moment," the blond whispered, inevitable tears starting to cloud his vision. "You can be such an arse when you want to, Tulio."
"Don't," Tulio muttered, feeling his throat constrict as he replayed that day, a year ago, over in his head. "I never asked you to leave."
"And what was I meant to do?" he half sobbed. "Play third wheel? I thought I might've at least been able to salvage a few pieces of my shattered fucking heart!"

At that, Tulio shoved himself abruptly off of the wall and stood up, starting to pace around opposite the other man, agitated.
"Oh I see, I see. This is about /Chel,/ isn't it," he said, voice bitter.
"Of course it's about bloody Chel!" he yelled back, rubbing furiously at his - now dripping rapidly - eyes. Tulio wanted nothing more than to rush over to his partner, to stop his tears, but of course his pride wouldn't let him - he was far too stubborn. Instead, he snapped back:
"Forget about her, it's not /her/ fault."
"No, it really isn't." he hissed back venomously. Tulio stopped pacing, facing Miguel and closing his eyes in defeat.
"I know," he muttered, rubbing his temples. Miguel brought his knees up purely for something to bury his face in. "Just..." he didn't even finish, trailing off and just feeling his shoulders tremble.
Tulio opened his eyes and looked over at the broken form of his partner . . . his ex-partner now, he supposed. He moved so he was in front of Miguel, his head slightly bowed with sorrow and shame.
"I'm sorry, Miguel."
Miguel raised his tear-stained face, eyes narrowed and furious. "Don't, Tulio. I won't be some kind of fallback for you just because Chel left."
Tulio gave a derisive snort, standing his ground.
"Fallback, my arse. Is that the only reason you think I came here?"
"Yeah, pretty much. Unless you want a pity-party, too."
"Like hell," Tulio said, dismissively waving his hand. "I came to apologise. And explain."
Miguel quickly dismissed his slightly surprised expression, forcing the sarcastic sneer back over his countenance.
"Do go on."
Tulio paused, slightly surprised Miguel had let him get that far. He took a deep breath.
"I wasn't thinking, when I . . . let things go that far with Chel," he started. Miguel's expression moved into a false smile.
"Of course you were. Only, with just one part of you. And it wasn't your brain and definitely wasn't your heart."
Tulio averted his eyes, embarrassment shrouding his features and a wry smile twisting his lips.
"I deserved that. Mainly because it's true."
Miguel raised his eyebrows and awkwardly pursed his lips.
"Mhm."
"She was there, she was attractive and she was helping us," Tulio muttered absently, still not meeting Miguel's eyes. "That's all there was."
"Wow. Great reasoning, oh 'mature one'." he hissed, feeling another wave of furious tears impending. He thought he'd meant more than that.
"I'm not trying to /excuse/ myself here, Miguel," Tulio snapped, momentarily losing his cool. "I was fucking /scared,/ OK, and that's not an excuse either."
"Of /w h a t/?"
"You. Me. Us." Tulio's hands flew to his temples, trying to ward off the headache that was lurking.
"....what in the world're you on about?" Miguel asked, eyes narrowed in confusion and disbelief.
"You know damn well what I'm on about," Tulio growled. "Goddamnit, Miguel, we were joined at the hip. We were practically /married./"
"Yeah, well that's what I thought too, but you managed to prove me wrong!" Miguel snapped back, just as annoyed.
"I thought I was /depending/ too much on you." Tulio looked away, angry now.
"You? On me? You were the man with the plans, the one who always knew what to do - when were you ever dependent on me!?"
"Maybe depend wasn't the right word," Tulio growled. "I needed you to depend on me. And when you went off to look around that city, without me, without telling me . . ."
"What, following you like some kind of mindless drone!? And I wanted to explore it with you, but you were bent on keeping me cooped up inside the temple!"
"Because that was the /plan,/ for God's sake!"
"And if you'd come, you've realised that the people of that city were worth far more than the gold and abandoned the plan!" Miguel yelled, arms gesticulating wildly. Tulio cursed and resumed pacing, his agitated footsteps echoing loudly in the near-empty room.
"Then why didn't you just /stay/ there? Why bother coming back?"
"You would've /died/! Did you seriously expect me to stand and watch you and Chel get crushed!?" he said, voice piercingly theatrical.
"We wouldn't have /died,/" Tulio snapped, his voice only just under a shout. "I would've thought of something. I could've gotten that sail down."
"So what you're trying to say, then, is that you'd rather I hadn't come back?" he asked quietly, calmly.
"That's not what I /meant,/" Tulio said, avoiding Miguel's eyes. "I just can't help thinking, right now, that you would have been happier."
"I probably would've," Miguel muttered weakly and flatly. "This year's hardly been a holiday..."
"No." Tulio took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "It hasn't. You should have looked for me. You know the people I spoke to when I was trying to find you thought I was dead, because I wasn't with you?"
This brought a tired half-smile to Miguel's lips.
"Well I never /said/ that."
"I'd hoped you hadn't," Tulio said quietly. He gave a bitter snort of laughter. "Would have been /really/ awkward if you had."
"Yup... Miguel murmured, staring at a crack in the ceiling. Tulio watched him, his breathing returning to normal and his jaw unclenching.
"Miguel . . ." he started.
"...Yeah?" Miguel asked after the lag caused by his tired mind comprehending the question, dull eyes flickering downward.
"I, what I did . . . I broke a promise, and I can't forgive myself for that, and I reckon men will walk barefoot on the sun before /you/ forgive me, but . . . I'm sorry."
Miguel felt as if the waterworks were about to start up again. He was forgiving, but this was unfathomably different. His brow creased and he made a noise of frustration.
"I /want/ to. F-For things to just go back to the way they were. But I don't think... that I can."
His voice had fizzled out to a whisper. Tulio nodded slowly, his eyes downcast. He'd been expecting that. /Of course/ he'd been expecting that. It still stung.
"I . . . I understand."
He stood still, in the middle of the room, feeling completely at sea.
"But, I mean..." he cleared his throat cheeks flushing. "You should probably stay because it's, ah, late."
". . . Are you sure?" Tulio asked, a frown crossing his features. "I'll leave, if it makes you less uncomfortable . . ."
"No!" Miguel sad quickly, his hand flying out before he could stop it. He glanced from it up to Tulio with an almost pitiful expression. "Please...please stay."
"Are you /sure?/" Tulio asked again, swallowing nervously. He'd expected the night to end one of many ways - not like this. "Won't that be . . . too awkward?"
Miguel inwardly kicked himself for being so fucking /weak/ as more tears found their way down his cheeks.
"No, I-- I mean yeah, just-- please don't go."
Tulio was surprised, both at Miguel's words and his tears, and he took a step forwards, frowning in thought.
"I won't. If you don't want me to, of course I won't."
"...kay." the blond mumbled almost inaudibly, hanging his head. He wanted to get up and usher him out of the door, yell at him to get out and never come back. But at the same time, he wanted to run forwards, to melt into his arms, to feel his kiss just like before.
"I'll stay, I'll stay over here," Tulio said quietly, walking over to sit on the floor by the far wall, avoiding looking at Miguel. He knew he was ashamed and confused over his feelings - a year hadn't dampened his ability to read the blond like a book.
"I uh... y-you can have the bed if you want..." he muttered, gesturing to said 'bed'.
"No, you need that, you look so tired," Tulio replied, removing his waistcoat and folding it on the floor, as a makeshift pillow. "But thanks."
"There's... I--" Miguel felt further ashamed by the fact that he had next nothing to offer. He quickly took the sheet from his 'bed' and almost effortlessly ripped it in two, such was the quality. "Here." he muttered, tossing half over. Tulio looked at the half of the bedsheet he'd been thrown and suddenly had to bite his lip to keep from sobbing. It was so thin, and Miguel looked so cold and small and /neglected/ in this tiny, gloomy little room, and he knew it was all his fault. All he could manage was a choked "thank you."
"You okay?" Miguel asked, furrowing his brow, noticing the odd tone Tulio's voice had taken on.
"What? Oh . . . yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Tulio replied hurriedly, blinking and swallowing hard, busying himself with the sheet.
"D'you, uh, want a drink or something? I have some wine somewhere, I think... no food though, sorry... and the wine's pretty shit."
"Yeah . . . that, that would be good, thank you," Tulio replied, vowing to himself that he'd go for food first thing in the morning.
"Kay." Miguel warily stood, leaning on the wall momentarily before making his way into the adjacent 'kitchen' (box). Tulio stood up as well and hurried over to Miguel, awkwardly hesitating a few feet away from him.
"Careful, don't . . . tire yourself out . . ."

This made Miguel smirk as he retrieved two beer flagons from a dusty cupboard and filled them with wine.
"I'm never too weak to lift a bottle."
Tulio gave a small half-smile, keeping his distance but watching Miguel carefully to make sure he was alright.
"And have you . . . lifted a lot of bottles lately?"
Miguel paused, carefully selecting a suitably ambiguous answer.
"Well, I did work in a bar."
"That's not what I meant, Miguel, and you know it," Tulio said quietly.
"....Yeah, I guess I have. But if you saw the kind of people-- I--" he paused and sighed. "You would've done the same."
Tulio nodded slowly, unsure how to react. How /do/ you react when someone that meant more to you than anything reveals they've turned to alcohol to deal with prostitution?
"I see."
Miguel gazed at the flagon that was just screaming at him to drink it so he could slip into sweet oblivion.
"You know, uh... I think I might pass. Bit late."
"Of course . . ." Tulio took the flagons from him and set them down, carefully, on the floor. "I won't either. Y'know. To keep you company."
Miguel gave a snort at how pointless the whole endeavour had been.
"Water, then?"
"Sure. Go and sit down, I'll get it."
"You sure?" Under normal circumstances he would refuse, but he was so damn /tired/.
"Positive. Sit down." Tulio's voice was firm. "Uh. Where is it?"
Miguel snorted, waving a hand at a cupboard.
"There's a few skins in there."
Tulio chuckled and reached into the cupboard, taking out two skins and handing one to Miguel. He returned to his side of the room and sat down.
"So."