In his pleasured fog of sleepiness, Rory barely heard everything that Eisen said, although he caught the gist of it enough to respond to some of it. Right now, he didn’t even want to think about how things could’ve been different. Honestly, Rory wasn’t even sure if that was true. Eisen loved him, that was for sure, but Rory was fairly certain that if he’d known that about himself, they wouldn’t be in the situation that they were. But right now, Rory didn’t even care. What they had right now, right at this moment, was just enough. More than enough.
So, instead of responding to any of the more complicated things, the things that made his heart clench as Eisen spoke, Rory chose the obvious route. “You’re straight,” Rory pointed out quietly, his lips moving against the skin of Eisen’s chest. It seemed deliciously ironic, saying the words while his naked body pressed against Eisen’s. So much for that theory. Still, he was too tired to clarify. Eisen would knew what he meant.
Of course, Rory’s reasoning went far beyond the mere question of sexuality. The same concerns he’d told Fiona -- the chair, his illness, his brokenness -- were all still factors. Yet somehow they always seemed like less of a concern with Eisen. If there was anyone Rory trusted to look past Rory’s chair, it was Eisen. Even in spite of all the times Eisen had seen his moments of weakness, his best friend had always treated him as if he were so... capable, and he did it so gently, so unassumingly, that Rory couldn’t help but believe him.
“Tomorrow...” Rory intoned dreamily. “Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from the day to day,” he yawned and tilted his face up to kiss Eisen under the chin before finishing the phrase, “to the last syllable of recorded time.” In truth, the passage was more foreboding than Rory would’ve liked, but Rory quoted it anyway. Life may have been a brief candle, Rory decided, but as long as he had Eisen to hold him, he saw no reason not to burn as brightly as possible for as long as he had.