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Contents ( 42)
  1. The Art of Breathing
  2. Part One: How We Became Who We Are
  3. Prologue: Or, Where the Kid Hears the Word of the Day
  4. 1. Where Tyson Learns to Breathe
  5. 2. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
  6. 3. Where Tyson Graduates and Bear Freaks Out
  7. 4. Where Tyson Says Good-Bye
  8. 5. Where Tyson Gets the Mail
  9. Part Two: Coming Home
  10. 6. Where Tyson Comes Home
  11. 7. Where Tyson Gives a History Lesson
  12. 8. Where Tyson Attends the Most Awkward Party Ever
  13. 9. Where Tyson Plans Attends a Protest
  14. 10. Where Tyson Gets Arrested
  15. 11. Where Tyson Gets His Ass Handed to Him
  16. 12. Where Tyson Writes Bad Poetry and Gawks at Frat Boys
  17. 13. Where Tyson Decides to Man the Fuck Up
  18. 14. Where Tyson Asks Some Questions
  19. 15. Where Tyson Remembers Theresa Jean Paquinn
  20. 16. Where Tyson Learns the Benefit of Therapy
  21. 17. Where Tyson Meets the Man Who Becomes Helena Handbasket
  22. 18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
  23. Part Three: Just Breathe
  24. 19. Where Tyson Goes to Helena Handbasket’s Sex Dungeon
  25. 20. Where Tyson Beholds the Awesome Wonder That Is Paul Auster
  26. 21. Where Tyson Receives Advice from the Six Sages
  27. 22. Where Tyson Makes a Phone Call
  28. 23. Where Tyson Hears the Inevitable
  29. 24. Where Tyson Meets His Match
  30. 25. Where Tyson Says Hello, Where Tyson Says Good-bye
  31. 26. Where Tyson Touches upon the Inevitable
  32. 27. Where Tyson Faces the Music
  33. 28. Where Tyson Breathes
  34. 29. Tyson And Dominic
  35. 30. The Art Of Breathing
  36. Epilogue: Or, Bear’s Perspective, As It Were (Yeah, He’s Gonna Freak)
  37. Author’s Note
  38. Excerpt
  39. Prologue: Or, Where Bear Answers the Door
  40. More from TJ Klune
  41. Readers love the Bear, Otter, and the Kid Chronicles by TJ Klune
  42. By TJ Klune

But then saying good-bye always is.

28. Where Tyson Breathes

Six Weeks Later

WE WALK along that little section of beach, Dom and I. Hand in hand, because this is who we are now. And I think this is who we’ll be again, once I get my head on straight. It’ll take some work, but I’m motivated now. Not just for him. For myself.

I haven’t told him I love him, but I think he knows. He has to. I can barely keep it off my face every time he says my name. Every time his lips find mine. His skin against my own. The feel of my heartbeat under his hand. The play of the morning light against his bare back. The rough dark stubble along his cheeks. The way he smiles. The way he makes me smile back. He has to know. Even if I can’t find the power to say it, he has to know. I belong to him just as surely as he belongs to me. I’m gathering my courage.

The wind is cold this morning. The waves are white-capped and choppy. The sky is overcast, with bits of sun and blue poking through before being covered again. The fog is dissipating. The seagulls cry above as we walk through the sand. The tracks left behind are close together. Big ones and smaller ones. Like they’ve always been.

He says, This is going to be hard.

I say, I know.

And we walk on.

The wind whips up around us, curling up my legs and arms and through my hair. I huddle closer to him. He’s warm. My head bumps his shoulder. He smells good.

He says, You don’t have to do this.

I laugh. So you’ve said.

I just….

I know.

But—

Dom.

A boat, out in the sea. The sun catches its white sail and flashes brightly.

I’m on the verge of something here. A precipice. I’ll either fly or fall. It could go either way, because some days are still harder than others. There’s no magical cure, no matter how much I wish it. Bear cannot fix me. Otter cannot fix me. Dom cannot fix me. And it’s unfair to think any of them could. Only I can fix me. Silly boys. They insist I’m not broken. And maybe I’m not. Maybe it’s just something as simple as being off track. Maybe I’ll never get to be exactly how I want to be. Maybe I’ll crash and burn and everything I know and love will fall down around me. But I can’t know until I jump. And I can’t be who I want to be for them until I do. Is it selfish? I don’t know. Maybe.

Probably.

What if you don’t come back? he asks. He lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.

I will. I try not to let him feel that I’m shaking.

How do you know?

Do you love me? How odd, that. To be able to ask that aloud and to know the answer even before it’s said.