With the public holiday coming to an end, Tristan decided it was time to return to work at the little foreign supermarket. Caleb was none too pleased with the idea, but was unable to deny his husband anything. When Tristan told him plainly that he wasn't allowed to sit outside the store in his car all day, Caleb himself decided to rejoin the workforce; lest he die of boredom while waiting for Tristan to return home.

Since Tristan worked during the day, Caleb was keeping regular hours for a change. Fraser was surprised when he stopped by the office and saw him while the sun was still shining. He couldn't help but smile as he watched his little brother angrily wait for his meeting to start, while the team sang 'Happy Birthday' to one of the support staff. Caleb was finally earning the hefty salary that Caffray had been paying him.

Caleb's hours differed somewhat from the rest of the executives, in that he'd come and go as he pleased. On the days he was present, he would only arrive after he'd taken his husband to work, and would leave in time to pick him up again. On Tristan's off-days, he was entirely absent from the company.

"Neither of us need to work, Baby" he'd told Tristan, after his husband had complained of a sore back, "You can just stay home with the cats if you wanted to..."

The big cat removed his glasses and cornered his husband on the couch.

If I stayed home all day you'd exhaust me within a week, thought Tristan, having found himself at Caleb's mercy several times already that morning.

"Be good, Husband" he'd said in reply, "I like to keep busy. Especially when I have Tibur and Millie to talk to at work. If you're very good... maybe we can talk about planning a honeymoon."

The 'honeymoon' incantation had proved almost as effective as the 'husband' charm. The prospect of Tristan in a secluded tropical beach house, no need for clothes or other people, was a powerful tool for negotiation.

Tibur had been doing his best to be cheerful to the customers, but the second he entered the break room, all pretense would fall away. Tristan was starting to worry that his feelings for Michael were deeper than he'd suspected. The only good thing was that his relationship with Millie seemed as strong as before; with everything out in the open, he had no reason to avoid her except for his own misery.

"Want to go for a drink tonight?" she asked him.

Tibur shook his head. "I don't really feel up to it" he replied, "I'm not in the mood to be out with other people around right now. I'll eat lunch with you tomorrow though, okay?"

The Modeshi student was devoting all his time to work and study. Besides the supermarket, he'd found a job assembling boxes at a factory a few times a week. Even if he'd heard nothing from Michael, he was still saving bit by bit to repay him. At night he'd lie in bed, suffering the stifling heat as he stared at the fan that Michael had brought him.

"I'm worried about Tibur" Tristan told his husband, Goose curled up on his lap as the afternoon breeze drifted across the sunbaked terrace.

"Do you want me to bring Michael to him?" offered Caleb, "In how many pieces?"

"Husband, I'm serious" said Tristan, his brow attractively knitted with concern.

"What do you propose?" asked Caleb, "It may be that giving him time is the best course of action. But whatever you need Baby, just say the word."

"I'm not sure what would help to be honest, I just can't stand seeing him so down. Maybe if Michael got in touch... to apologize, to explain himself, something. If he got some closure then maybe he could move on. He deserves to meet someone who'll respect him... I'm scared he'll always think himself unworthy of it."

Caleb took Tristan's hand and kissed it. He knew all too well why Tristan harbored such fears.

"As to this message from Michael" said Caleb, "can he be trusted to write it himself? Or do you think he'll need a hand getting the right point across?"

"I'm sure if you gently encouraged him, he could express his regret well enough. Although maybe I'd better draft a back-up just in case..."

Tristan typed out what he felt would be a decent enough apology message from Michael to Tibur, and forwarded it to his husband. All that remained was for Michael to pass it along, and then hopefully his friend would have the closure he so desperately needed.

The trip up north was liable to take all day, and Tristan didn't want to wait until the weekend. Caleb took one of his frequent personal days to drive up and complete the mission while his husband was at work. As he pulled up to the house, another car took his parking spot.

"Hey man!" said the driver, "This is private property. If you're looking for a place to park I don't know what to tell you. Try somewhere else."

Caleb could hazard a guess that this must be the owner of the house. The one whose call Michael had answered on his first night with Tibur.

"I'm here to see Michael" he announced, blocking in Paul's car and getting out with little concern, "It won't take long."

Had Paul not been tired from having just flown in, he might have had something more to say about the well-built stranger barging onto his vacation property. As it was, he followed him to the front door and let him go inside ahead of him.

The dark circles on Michael's smiling face betrayed the tears he'd cried in the days since Tibur had left. When he saw Caleb was with Paul, the mask slipped for a second, his vulnerable appearance missed entirely by his friend.

"You've moved your stuff to the second bedroom, right?" was the first thing that Paul asked him.

"Huh? Oh, yeah; it's all yours" Michael replied, "The housekeeper came to change the sheets this morning."

"Just as well!" said Paul with a knowing smile, "Who knows what what kind of a state you and your guest left them in before that!"

Michael smiled politely and Caleb retained his cold expression.

"I'll take my bags up. This guy said he came to see you... make it quick. I don't love that you're inviting people over without my permission."

"Sorry..." said Michael.

Paul went upstairs, leaving behind the heavy air of anticipation between the two men standing in his living room.

"How is he?" Michael asked him in a whisper, afraid that Paul would hear him.

Caleb got out his phone and sent a message, motioning for Michael to check it once his notification went off. It wasn't the update on Tibur that he was expecting, instead it was a series of self-deprecating statements and apologies.

"Just copy it and send it to Tibur" Caleb informed him, "It's the least you can do."

Michael agreed with half of what was written; he was a piece of shit and didn't know how to treat people. But the final statement, that he wouldn't contact Tibur again... he wasn't sure he could stand by that.

"Maybe I should speak to him in person" said Michael, "Try and explain things to him properly."

"Isn't it a little late for that?"

The tears were threatening to fall at the realization. He'd waited too long.

"I knew that Paul was coming... I thought it was better to talk to Tibur once he'd left. That way I'd have the time to sort things out without any distractions. Isn't that better? I just need a couple of days. Just a couple of days and I'll have all the time in the world."

"Do you understand how stupid that sounds?" asked Caleb, "The longer you wait, the more chance you'll lose him completely. You asked me for advice that day; do you remember what I said was the most important?"

"Make him happy..." said Michael.

"And do you think you did that?" Caleb sneered, "Tristan cares about his friends, he doesn't like to see them upset. That's the only reason I'm here; for his happiness. If you really care about Tibur-"

Michael heard a noise from upstairs.

"Keep it down!" he told Caleb.

Caleb couldn't help but laugh at Michael's panicked face. Tristan was right, Tibur deserved better.

"Are you worried your friend might get the wrong idea?" he asked, stepping closer and brushing an eyelash from Michael's cheek.

"You don't get it!" he said, backing away from his reach, "Not everyone's like you."

Caleb didn't want to waste any more time than he needed to.

"Hurry up and send the message" he said, "Once that's done, we shouldn't need to meet one another again."

Michael wasn't prepared to let Caleb bully him into it. Things between himself and Tibur were his own business. Even if he wasn't ready to do anything while Paul was around, it didn't mean things were over yet.

"I'll message him myself" he lied, "I don't need whatever copy-paste bullshit you sent me!"

Caleb adjusted his glasses, his temper dangerously rising. It wasn't the defiance that provoked him, it was the way he'd insulted the text his husband had drafted.

"What's wrong with it?" he seethed.

"It er... it just doesn't sound like me" he pacified, "He'll be able to tell that someone else wrote it. Give me time to come up with something. And please, just make sure he's okay until then... he doesn't always take care of himself like he should."

Caleb cocked an eyebrow. "You want me to trust you?" he asked, "I'm not sure Tristan will be satisfied with that."

"Look, if I haven't got in touch with him by the end of the week, I'll move out of the Phoenicia for good, okay? Just let me handle this."

Paul was only staying for a few days. Michael figured he could buy himself enough time to sort things out later... he bargained that there would always be a 'later' when it came to things between him and Tibur.

"I'll hold you to that" said Caleb, glad to get out of there and return home to make dinner for Tristan. Even if he was only bluffing; if he failed to deliver what was promised, Caleb would have him ousted from the building himself.

Paul came downstairs when the coast was clear. It's not that Caleb had scared him, it's just that he was giving them space. At least, that was how he justified it to himself.

"Gone?" asked Paul, "I see your standards have slipped when it comes to making friends."

"Not a friend exactly" corrected Michael, "We just have a shared acquaintance."

"With the way he looked at you, you were probably caught sniffing around his girlfriend, am I right?" laughed Paul.

"What do you want to do while you're here?" asked Michael, trying to change the subject.

"Nothing for now" said Paul, "But we'll be meeting Jeff and Anna tomorrow for lunch." 

"Anna's here..?" The Anna he'd spent one awkwardly uncomfortable night with on Paul's twentieth birthday. The Anna he'd lost his virginity to.

"Yeah, I came because they're here on vacation. They're staying at a hotel by the airport tonight, but they'll need the second bedroom from tomorrow. You can clear out by the morning, right?"

Michael had got things wrong. After speaking on the phone that night, Paul had made it seem like he was coming to check in on him for the first time since he was put on leave... turned out he was there to see someone else after all.

"I'll clear out tonight" said Michael, "saves you having to change the sheets."

"So long as you're not being a little bitch about it" Paul replied, "I can't ask a couple to sleep on the couch."

"What if I had a partner with me?" asked Michael, "Would you have kicked us out to let your friends stay?"

"Anna and Jeff are your friends too" Paul reasoned, "You want me to call them and tell them they can't come? All because you and your hypothetical girlfriend got there first? Don't be such an idiot. Find some woman to crash with, with your track record it shouldn't be too hard."

Michael nodded. "Got it" he said, "I'll meet you guys for lunch tomorrow... but for now I'd better work on finding a place to stay."

Paul had never known Michael to be so combative. Fuck it, let him throw his temper tantrum somewhere else, it's not like he was here to see him anyway. He'd already had his pilot's license suspended, and so many of their friends had forgotten about him altogether. Michael's stock had plummeted.

On the other side of the island, Tibur came home late from the library. All day at the supermarket, Tristan had been acting weird. Whenever he'd checked the time on his phone, his friend would ask him if he had any messages come through; he was starting to expect something that never came. Throwing his phone onto the bed in frustration, he looked out the window as he began to undress.

For the first time since the fire, Michael's apartment light was on.