Who: Shiloh & Preston What: Shiloh to the rescue! Where: Bathos 106 When: After this Warnings: Do I need to warn for threats of bodily harm?
His messenger bag was slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, when he walked into the lobby of Bathos. The conversation with Preston had him more than a little worried, but at least this type of worry he was prepared to deal with, but that didn’t make it any more enjoyable to experience. It took him back over a decade, this kind of worry, and he just hoped he had the ability to still help him out of this darkness. Shiloh’s brow was knitted down as he turned the corner, heading down the hallway towards his apartment, gaze fixed on Preston standing there in the hallway. Through thick or thin, Shiloh thought. That’s how brothers worked.
Preston hadn’t realized that he wasn’t going back into his apartment until after he had left Eli’s. He didn’t have anything on him, no coat, no bag. His clothes were clean but he brought with him the smell of the mist and his hair had a perceptible dampness to it. He was so relieved that Shiloh was here, within reach, and he had someplace for Preston to stay. He didn’t have the presence of mind to realize that he was doing exactly the same thing he’d done years previous, because it was the only thing that had ever really worked. Go to Shiloh for protection. He smiled to see him, though that just made the shadows under his eyes and the lines in his face more pronounced. “I hope you didn’t hurry away from something important.”
“You mean something more important than you? Never.” During the approach, he had taken in Preston’s appearance, and it was more than a little worrisome, an echo to events that had happened nearly a lifetime ago, but he didn’t say anything on that now. Instead he slid the key into the lock and opened the door for both of them, keys tossed on the little table that sat by the door just for that purpose. After he dropped his bag on the kitchen counter, Shiloh turned to look Preston over again, arms folding over his chest as a familiar expression of concern settled over his face.
“Were you outside? Your hair’s wet.” He thought that Preston said he had been here at the complex, but unless it was raining in a hallway, that wetness came from somewhere beyond the building’s walls.
Preston’s eyes shifted up toward the ceiling. “The roof. I was just waiting...” he trailed off, because he hadn’t really been waiting for anything, except perhaps for the hurt to dull a little bit. He moved into Shiloh’s kitchen and all the tension went out of him at once. He leaned his weight on the counter and looked, abruptly, twice as tired. He knew better than to think Shiloh didn’t have better things to do than play nursemaid, but he appreciated his company anyway. “Thanks, Shiloh.” He gestured over his shoulder at the couch, even with the offer of the spare bedroom.
It hurt him to see Preston like this, so worn, so weary, but Shiloh was smart enough to know that there would be no easy solution to the problems adults had. There hadn’t been easy solutions way back when, anyways. But the mention of the roof drew a certain amount of worry that he hadn’t felt before. “Waiting on the roof?” he questioned, turning away and going to put some water on to boil. Normally, he might have offered coffee, but he doubted that a high dose of caffeine would do Preston any good, so tea it was.
“Please tell me you weren’t thinking of doing anything stupid.” Shiloh didn’t believe he would, but it was safe to assume nothing at times like these. Two cups were fetched, sat on the counter, a teabag in each moments later. “I’m not implying anything,” he continued once he had rejoined Preston at the counter. “But you don’t seem like the sort to wait about on roofs.”
Tea sounded good. Something hot sounded good. Anything but booze and actual food sounded good. Preston was, he thought, done being sick, but the hangover still liked to remind him it was there. He looked over at his brother’s face, troubled he would ask that, troubled because no one knew that he had thought about such things before. “No,” he said, “but I didn’t want to be in the lobby in case Eli came through it. It seemed better to wait on top. It’s a nice view, if you’ve never been up there.”
“That bad between you two? And I think I’ll pass on the roof. If you want a breathtaking view, see if you can convince Anton to let you off your leash for a week and we’ll take a trip.” Shiloh gave a smile a that, leaning forward, arms folded on the counter, his gaze sharp. “But for now, no more trips to the roof. Just for my sanity’s sake, hmm?”
Preston turned his head and looked blindly toward the door. “Anton wouldn’t notice if I was gone.” He put a hand out for his tea cup, not really thinking, because it was still empty. He blinked, realizing how that sounded, and he said, hastily, “On a trip. He wouldn’t notice if I took a trip.”
“It’ll be ready in a moment,” Shiloh said without missing a beat, and as if on cue, the kettle started screaming, though it’s shriek lasted only a handful of moments before Shiloh silenced it, pouring the water into each of their cups and pushing one towards Preston. “Come on. Let’s sit. You look about ready to fall over.”
Without waiting for agreement, Shiloh picked up his cup and moved to the living room and the couch he wasn’t going to allow Preston to sleep on. He took his seat and waited for Preston to join him before speaking any further. “You do know I’m serious, don’t you? About taking a trip. A vacation, even. You’ve got a passport. I’ve got frequent flier miles. Could show you something I love nearly as much as my very own brother.” Shiloh cracked a smile then, dipping his tea bag up and down, letting the tea seep. “It’d be nice. We’ve never done that.”
The kettle made Preston jump a little bit before he blinked and recovered the languid safety of his ease that he’d found two steps in the door. He took his cup gratefully, blowing on the surface, and sat where he was directed on the couch. He sniffed, trying to discern whether it was oolong or green.
He pulled the mug close to his chest and looked down into the darkening water. “I can’t take a trip. He wouldn’t notice, but a lot of things would fall apart. Besides, you have things here too. The museum and Poe.” He looked up at his brother. “What happened there?”
“You’re just making excuses now. Things might fall apart here, but what are you going to do when you fall apart?” Shiloh shrugged and blew on his own tea, fiddling with the string on the teabag, impatient for that perfect moment when the tea was seeped to his liking. It was just black tea, a good blend he got from a local shop. “I’m not trying to drag you away. I’m just saying. And as for myself...”
Shiloh abandoned his tea for the moment, leaning back on the couch, arms folded over his chest, one leg crossed over the other with his ankle on his knee. “The museum would be fine. I can arrange things enough to where my absence would only be slightly problematic, but nothing they couldn’t manage. And Poe, well, he’s Poe. When he needs me, I’m here, but I can’t sit and revolve around him just when he wants me here. I have a life of my own to live. Not that I wouldn’t be there in a heartbeat but...” Another shrug of his shoulders. “Besides. He’s got Blake. I have a feeling Blake’s a lot more fun to be around than his stuffy, aging father.”
Preston winced a little bit at the other man’s name. It wasn’t big, but it was there. He couldn’t conceive of the vacation that Shiloh was talking about. A couple months ago he took a day off, and he just took one off now, and that made two more than the five or so years previous, not counting holidays, not that he did anything on holidays besides hide in the mountains. “Is he spending a lot of time with Blake?” Preston said, sounding as concerned as he felt.
And with as close of attention as Shiloh was paying to Preston, that wince didn’t go unnoticed, but it did go unmentioned - at least for the moment. Instead, he let Preston lead the conversation for the moment. “I’m honestly not sure. The two seem close from what little I can see. He’s the kid’s sponsor, so I guess it’s only natural that they spend some time with one another? I honestly have no idea what being a sponsor even entails.” There was a tinge of worry at that, and Shiloh made a mental note to investigate a bit more into this relationship.
Preston scraped a hand down his face. “That’s not all it is,” he told his brother, obviously equally worried under all that discomfort. “Poe is... young and he’s a little starstruck. He told me about it when he was in the hospital--and enjoying a lot of painkillers.” Blake had a reputation and Preston couldn’t even say the reputation wasn’t deserved.
A brow arched at that, leaving Shiloh to lean forward, arms balanced on his knees. “What am I missing here?” he asked, concern laced through his voice. “Because I have a feeling it’s important.”
“Poe has... a crush, I suppose you could say. Blake has noticed him too, but he said--” Preston licked hangover-dry lips, uncertain, “he said that he wasn’t going to play with him.” Awkwardly. “You know, that if he was interested, he’d be serious about it.” Preston hadn’t ever discussed his relationships with Shiloh, not in any detail. He knew consciously that he wouldn’t be met with judgment, but it also wasn’t something he wore like flag, despite what all the propaganda encouraged.
Shiloh was silent as Preston spoke, taking in his words, and desperately trying to tamp his emotions down so he didn’t do something foolish, something that he would regret. At least this explained, in a way, Blake’s protective nature when it came to Poe, though it didn’t make the feeling in his stomach ease at all. “Ah.” Sitting back, Shiloh steepled his fingers in front of his face, tapping his fingers against his lips. “I hope Blake knows that I’d not hesitate to do him serious harm if he ever hurt Poe,” he finished after a moment, his voice dead serious. The position was held for several more moments before Shiloh sat back up, pulling the tea bag from his cup and letting it drain for a few seconds of silence before throwing it on a nearby plate that he had forgotten to take to the kitchen.
A drink of tea, soothing and warm, and he felt measures better. “I don’t really care what people do, for the most part. It doesn’t bother me. But Blake...” Shiloh shook his head. “That worries me. You’ve known him for a while, haven’t you?”
Preston leaned forward so that he could see Shiloh’s face, anticipating the temper that his brother was so careful to control. When he didn’t move after the unthinking threat (which, honestly, scared Preston quite a lot, as he didn’t want anyone to get hurt in this particular situation), Preston let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He pushed at the tea bag in the mug, but he didn’t remove it, letting the water darken still further as he sipped at it.
Preston looked up at the question, and then nodded slowly. He rolled his lip under his teeth and looked down at his cup. “He was what... the fight with Eli was about.”
“Dare I ask for details?” Shiloh asked, glancing towards Preston, the almost-withdrawn mannerisms that were unfamiliar, an echo from long ago. “Or should I simply use my oh-so-wonderful imagination and try to fill in all the gaps?” Not that he wanted to fill in those gaps, hardly able to imagine what kind of situation was going on several floors above his head. This, this was why Shiloh preferred the lifestyle of a bachelor, free of relationships beyond the casual.
“After everyone started getting me in their minds, I panicked. I went with Blake to this bar.” Preston darted a glance up, and to his horror his eyes were burning. “I messed up.” He dropped his gaze again and this time rubbed a sleeve over his eyes and then down his face. He tried to shrug it off, but it didn’t quite work. “Matter of time, I suppose.”
The rest of it was easy enough to piece together, and Shiloh sighed, putting his cup down and reaching over, giving Preston’s back a rub. “As much as you try to be, you’re not perfect. You make mistakes. And all of that is acceptable. Though I’m guessing, if I’m putting this together correctly, that Eli was not as... accepting of this mistake, was he?”
Preston shook his head slowly. “It’s not just that. He says I want things that he doesn’t have. He talks about Blake and Anton a lot.” This time the raw, red glance was for Shiloh to see if he shared Eli’s suspicions. Anton had never showed one iota of interest in Preston beyond that of a friend, and Preston well knew it. He told himself he was not going to lose anything for his damn preferences again and he just ignored the feeling until it went away. Or until he thought it did, anyway.
“He’s jealous of Anton?” A brow shot up at that, an incredulous look on his face. “He must not have his eyes open very wide if he’s jealous of... Anton.” The thought was almost humorous, would have been had the situation been any different. “Sounds like he’s just... insecure. I’m fishing here, though, since I hardly know the man beyond a couple of conversations we’ve had.” He shrugged, taking another drink of tea, musing over the situation.
Preston didn’t know what to say. It would be easy to assign the blame to Eli, to say that yes, he was just very jealous, and very sensitive. That line of thinking was accented but the soft whisper in Preston’s mind reassuring him that it was Eli’s first relationship with another man and he was very insecure. Very easy to think so. Preston caught himself before he dropped the tea and abruptly pushed it away on a side table. Those thoughts weren’t fair. “No, he’s not insecure. At least not that way. If it was just emotional then he would have settled for me when I tried to keep him from leaving.”
“Then something else beyond that.” Shiloh let out a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I wish I could offer better advice. But I haven’t had a relationship since I was 30. And that lasted a whole of two weeks.” A small smile cracked his face. “But... if you care for him, and if you didn’t, I don’t think you’d be in this state, and if he cares about you, then I can only hope that somehow, it’ll work out.” He was quiet for a moment, trying to decide if he was even qualified to say that much.
“I could offer to go talk to him myself, but I think that would edge on creepy.” Shiloh laughed, a likely inappropriate time to do so, but once the thought came to him, he couldn’t keep it to himself.
Preston smiled a sad smile. “No... No. But thank you, Shiloh.” He shook his head a little bit, took a heavy breath, and sank back into the couch. “I can’t help but worry about the things he said. I think he’s right, and I think he’s better... I think he’s better off not hoping I’ll be what--whatever it is I need to be.” Preston closed his eyes, as if they were too heavy to hold up.
There was more he wanted to say, but Preston hardly looked in shape to talk further. So Shiloh did the next best thing. “Come on. I’m putting you to bed. You need some sleep before you simply pass out on the couch. Comfortable as it is, the bed’s nicer.” And he stood, offering a hand down to him, all strength and support in his offer to help him up. He was hoping time would heal some of these wounds, that whatever issues were going on in Preston’s personal life would start to straighten out, provide more comfort than stress.
“I’ll get a t-shirt and some pants out for you. Luckily we’re still mostly the same size, though you could use a few more sandwiches to get out of being so lanky.” It was gentle teasing, and he hoped it might bring a smile to his brother’s face, but Shiloh wasn’t placing any bets on it.
Preston kept seeing white pictures of mistakes on the back of his eyelids, so he willingly opened them again, though they were still raw. He took the hand up, standing somewhat awkwardly on his feet for a moment as if he hadn’t been on them for days. “It wouldn’t be a problem if you lost a few pounds,” he replied, automatically, not managing a smile but warming a little at the banter. At least Shiloh wouldn’t ever hate him, no matter what he’d done or what mistakes he might make. He reflected that was probably the real reason he’d come. “Thanks,” he said. He squeezed Shiloh’s hand and touched him lightly on the shoulder before moving around him in the general direction of the guest room, which would probably be dusty, but at least it wouldn’t be flush with Eli’s wall.
Another pang of concern rushed through Shiloh as he watched Preston rise, that tired look haunting him. He didn’t so much as shadow him as follow behind on the way to the guest room, which wasn’t dusty. He had just washed all the bedding the weekend before. A quick detour was made to his own room, grabbing a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms out of his drawers, pressing them into Preston’s hands moments later.
“Get your rest,” he said seriously. “And yell if you need something.” And with that, Shiloh left Preston to himself in the guest room, pulling the door closed behind him. For a while, he lingered in the hallway, just staring at the door, thinking. And then, with a quiet sigh, he retreated back to the living room, sitting down heavily on the couch and looking out the window nearby.