Caleb's face was a little burnt. But after focusing his attention on a particular corner of a paving slab, rather than allow himself to drink in the sight of Tristan any longer, the problem in his bathing suit had corrected itself. A wet finger tapped him on the shoulder as his forearms rested on the edge of the pool.

"I'd like to get out now" Tristan told him, having tried and failed to climb the ladder one-handed.

Caleb nodded silently and climbed out, reaching his arm to Tristan as he the latter squinted into the sunlight. For the briefest moment there was a sense of familiarity, as if he'd seen this man before. Shaking it off, he grasped Caleb's arm as he was gently pulled onto the bottom rung of the ladder. 

"You can climb" Caleb told him, "I've got you."

With his broken arm strapped in plastic, and the other holding onto Caleb, Tristan felt the unmistakable slipping of his teal trunks. If he let go he would fall back into the water. His brow began to furrow as his face turned pink. 

"Is it the heat?" Caleb asked him, oblivious to the impending exposure. 

Tristan shook his head and hurried his steps, nearly losing his footing in the process.

"Careful!" chided Caleb, his eyes following the stumble and getting lost in the dark mass of pubic hair and the subtle peek of private parts that were threatening to reveal themselves in full. 

"Excuse me" he said, noting Tristan's embarrassment and catching the edge of the suit between the fingertips of his free hand. His thumb brushed across the delicate skin of Tristan's naked shaft as he pulled up the shorts; unable to resist the temptation of touching him. A shudder ran up Tristan's spine. Swallowing his shame, Tristan swiftly climbed out and let go of Caleb's arm.

"Thank you..." he said, rushing off into the house to hide in the ensuite bathroom.

A moment later there was a knock on the door. 

"Yes...?" said Tristan, opening it a crack. 

"You need help" Caleb told him, pushing it open and striding inside. 

With his ass pressed against the edge of the sink, Tristan watched as Caleb began to remove not the plastic cover on his arm, but the dripping teal trunks he was wearing. 

"But... but, what are you doing?" Tristan cried, "You pulled them up for me before!" 

Caleb continued to yank them free of Tristan's clammy skin. 

"That was outside" he told him, "Someone else could have seen."

Naked, save for his cast, Tristan's eyes were wildly pleading. 

"I'm your husband" said Caleb, "It's nothing I shouldn't see." 

Before his mind had time to implode, Tristan found his bare skin wrapped tightly in a towel. 

"Did you want to get sick again?" Caleb asked him, "You should have dried off as quickly as possible. Scratch that. I should have helped you sooner." 

Ignoring all his instincts, Caleb dried off Tristan's glistening skin, keeping the soft towel in his hand from allowing his fingers to touch him any more than was necessary. The scent of chlorine still lingered on their bodies. 

"You haven't rinsed your body yet?" asked Caleb, his breath growing shorter at the prospect of helping him wash. 

"I'll do it now!" said Tristan, motioning to the door and securing the towel around himself.

Before he could salivate any longer, Caleb was very gently pushed towards the door. The resistance was somewhat pleasing. 

"Very well" said Caleb, "Come see me when you're done and I'll uncover your arm."

Alone in the bathroom, Tristan's ragged breath and racing heart began to slow. Was he really going to shower his naked body if he hadn't pushed him away? He couldn't remember the last time someone had bathed him; he must have been a child when he turned his father away and told him he could do it himself. 

An odd thought ran through his head, and his feet were already leading him to the door. Catching sight of his face in the mirror, he stopped short of reaching for the handle. It would be ridiculous to ask him to come back and help... it was better to just do it on his own.

In the other bathroom, Caleb was very much doing it on his own. Boundaries. He told himself. Don't cross his boundaries until he's ready... His hand worked quickly, eager to finish and see Tristan's face in front of him again.

With a towel wrapped about his waist, and no intention of dressing, Caleb waited in the living room until too much time had reasonably passed. He walked into the bedroom, and heard Tristan softly sobbing behind the bathroom door. Pretenses of boundaries cast aside, he unlocked the door and found the injured party sitting naked with a towel wrapped around his broken arm.

"What happened..?" Caleb asked him gently, crouching down at his side. 

"I thought I could do it... I'm sorry... I thought I could take the plastic off myself but then I realized I hadn't rinsed the shower after I used it... and it got wet when I turned it back on... I'm sorry... I didn't think..."

Caleb ran his hand through Tristan's hair, bringing his head to his lips and soothing him with a kiss so delicate it was almost imperceptible. 

"Why are you apologizing?" he asked him, wrapping an arm around the vulnerable shaking body beside him. Pulling Tristan to his feet, he led him into the bedroom and sat him on the bed. Hair dryer in hand, Caleb gently uncovered the compromised cast, blowing the dampened areas with warm and constant air.

"If this doesn't work I'll take you to the clinic" said Caleb, "There's nothing you need to worry about. You've done nothing wrong."

Tristan's tear-stained face regarded him in disbelief. 

"But I didn't listen" he declared guiltily, "I pushed you out and didn't let you help me."

Caleb's serious countenance was broken with a reassuring smile. 

"Whatever you want to do, whatever you don't want to do, your choices are your own. I don't blame you for making them. And if things go wrong, that's what I'm here for; if you don't want my help, it doesn't mean the offer will expire. I am always here if you change your mind... that's why I'm your husband."

Tristan got lost in the fantasy. It was almost as though he wanted to believe they were married. That the man blow-drying his broken arm would always be there to take care of him like this, that he had always been there. He wiped his eyes and took a breath, hoping to wake up from his dream before it consumed him.

Sitting in the dimly lit room, the curtains drawn as spears of dying sunlight patterned the walls, Caleb dried his husband's cast; their bare skin exposed in the gloom as their towels were carelessly thrown aside. The moment was as warm and intimate as one might expect from a couple, for Caleb it was the beginning - a step closer to bridging the gap between them and eradicating Tristan's every defense. Whatever decision he made, of course he would support him; but the decision to leave would be impossible. He would not let him go.

That evening, the two were dressed in their pyjamas. With Tristan seated on the large couch, and Caleb happily cooking in the kitchen, everything was as it should be. Until Tristan's phone rang. Caleb's ears pricked up. Who would be calling this late? There were only a handful of people with his number; he hoped that it was Millie.

"Hello..?" Tristan answered, "Is everything alright Tibur? Oh! Yeah, yeah of course I can call you back."

As soon as the call disconnected, Caleb began to hover in the door to the living room. 

"What did he want?" he asked. 

Tristan shook his head as he hit the call button, "I don't know" he said truthfully.

Opening the terrace door and slipping out onto the patio, Caleb's eyes were burned into Tristan's back. Why did they need to talk so privately..? There was nothing that they could say that he shouldn't know about. And why should Tristan have to risk mosquito bites just to speak with him? Tibur was going too far. Against his better judgement, he was willing to wait and see if the call was warranted, but he was standing by to pull his husband back inside if the conversation took too long.

"Is everything alright?" Tristan asked, "Has something happened?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you" said Tibur, "I didn't want to tell Millie about it... but I needed to talk to someone."

"You're not disturbing me... Caleb hasn't finished cooking, I have some time." 

"To be honest I'd rather talk it over in person, but this is better than nothing. I was worried if I waited until tomorrow I wouldn't be able to sleep at all... it's been kind of a weird night."

While Tibur explained the current situation with Michael and the broken door, Caleb paced back and forth from the kitchen to the living room; trying to discern Tristan's facial expressions through the glass. 

As the student steeled himself to reveal the strange proposition he'd received, there appeared to be an issue on the other side of the phone. Muffled voices were exchanging unheard words, until Tristan cautiously came back on the line. 

"Um... Caleb has asked if you wanted to come over to eat with us."

"But it's late..."

"It's late" said Tristan in an aside to Caleb. "Oh..." returning to the call, "he said it doesn't matter. That you should come anyway so we can talk properly."

The looming shadow waited patiently for the plans to be finalized. Tibur would come over to eat, and then he and Tristan could talk where he could see them. If nothing else, his presence should help to remind Tibur that his friend was very much taken. Smiling amiably as Tristan hung up and prepared to get dressed, he clenched his fist and returned to the kitchen; begrudgingly adding another portion to the pan.

Tibur wasn't thrilled about having to return to the Phoenicia, but he wouldn't willingly turn down a free meal. Despite how things had been left with Michael, he still had a debt to repay - and the amount would be settled in nothing other than cold, hard cash. As he stepped into the elevator to visit the penthouse, he was too busy thinking about a second job, and barely even noticed when the doors opened on Michael's floor.

"Tibur!" called the panic-stricken man in a singlet and shorts, "I saw you coming back over from the window. I'm glad you're here. I think we should talk about what happened." 

Tibur's eyes were wide and filled with apprehension the second he saw him. But remembering his purpose for coming, he had no plans to entertain whatever it was he wanted to discuss. As Michael stepped into the elevator, he pressed the button for the doors to close.

"I'm not here to see you" he said bluntly, "I've come to visit my friends."

Michael leaned in close and Tibur smelled the scent of alcohol on his breath. 

"Your friends?" he asked, "You mean the gay guys..?" 

Tibur frowned at him. "What does their sexuality have to do with anything?"

"You won't consider sleeping with me, and yet-"

"And yet nothing" said Tibur, "There is nothing more to that sentence. I won't consider sleeping with you. That's the end of it. It has nothing to do with anything or anyone else."

"So the people upstairs are really just friends?"

Tibur had reached the limits of his patience. Why should he have to defend himself to a perverted stranger?

"No! Not just friends" he said out of spite, "If you must know, I'm on my way to fuck one of them right now!"

The elevator doors sprang open into Caleb's apartment. The end of Tibur's sentence ringing out into the open space as the host failed to maintain his welcoming composure. The dangerous light that gleamed in Caleb's eyes shone viciously in the direction of the newcomers. 

"Aren't you going to come in?" asked Tristan, having missed the pertinent words as he struggled to finish his business in the bathroom one-handed.

"Yes" said Caleb, his countenance seething with malice, "I think you'd better come inside. Immediately."