Of all the things about “court” that Robbie would have thought to ask, somehow that—something so purely logistical—hasn’t crossed his mind. He carefully traces a line up and down Lance’s back with his palm.

“I have to go tomorrow,” Lance continues. “I’m scheduled for one o’clock, at the courthouse.”

“Do you want me to help you call lawyers?”

Lance just shakes his head. He’s going tense, which is easy to feel when he’s draped all over Robbie, but he puts his head back down and doesn’t roll away, so Robbie dares to push.

“I know a few. All that stuff with my grandfather’s will, remember? I could…?”

“Not yet,” Lance says forcefully. Robbie isn’t exactly sure what he means, but he pretends that Lance distracts him by kissing his neck, and lets it go. And a few minutes after that, gasping while Lance pushes aside the blankets and sits up to straddle him, rocking so their cocks slide together, he isn’t just pretending to be distracted anymore.

But he remembers later, in the dark. And Lance must, too, because he turns to Robbie so they lie facing each other on their sides, and he laces their fingers together.

“I’ve done some stuff I’m not very proud of,” he tells Robbie.

So have I. So have we all, Robbie wants to assure him, but he knows how fragile the moments are where Lance will share things like this, so he doesn’t dare interrupt.

“I promised myself I’d tell you, before tomorrow. I have—I was—seeing someone, I guess. In Chicago. His name’s Niall.”

Robbie tells himself he shouldn’t be surprised. And he definitely shouldn’t be hurt. He definitely shouldn’t be panicking. He just holds still and listens over the noise of his own pulse, a thudding in his ears like a drum signal of impending doom.

“I lived with him. He’s older. A photographer. And he took care of everything, so when we had a fight, and I left—” Lance breaks their handhold and rubs his head; Robbie feels the movement of his body—can even hear the soft rasp of his hair on his palm. “Well, he turned off my phone and reported the car stolen. When I walked out of the care home after I saw my dad, there was a patrol car pulled up behind me in the parking lot and they were running the plate.”

Of all the things Robbie wants to say, he settles for, “Is he an idiot? Didn’t he know what would happen after he reported the car stolen?”

He feels Lance flinch before he answers, “He was mad. I don’t know what exactly he thought would happen. Actually—he probably did know. And he probably thought I’d call him after I was picked up and beg for forgiveness.” Lance rolls onto his back and a small, bitter laugh escapes him. “He wasn’t completely wrong. I did think about calling him. But I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it. Niall is…I don’t know. We had some pretty good times, I guess. But the bad times got to be too much for me. I told you I got that call about Dad, being in hospice, at just the right moment for me to get in the car and drive, didn’t I? Well, they called when Niall had just thrown my favorite camera out the window.”