His eyes focused on Beau's reflection, tempted to step into the bathroom, to touch him, to pull him close and comfort him, but something held him back. And then Beau spoke, and Nate couldn't hold himself back anymore.
"Then stop," he breathed as he stepped up behind Beau. His hands went to Beau's narrow hips, guiding him to turn around. "Come out. Hold your head high." Be with me, his eyes said, though he wouldn't let those ones out, wouldn't put that kind of pressure on Beau after all these years. This was something Beau needed to do in his own time, his own way.