Embracing the Tension Ch. 09

"I'm suspicious of what's in that giant suitcase of yours." Ryan said, nodding at the largest piece of luggage Erik owned, sitting just inside the door.

"What's there to be suspicious about?"

"I said you didn't need to bring gifts for everyone."

"And I told you I like giving gifts."

Ryan grunted, and Erik couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. "How come you don't have a tree up here?"

Ryan shrugged. "Too much work. Besides, I do all the Christmas stuff downstairs anyway, so..." He shrugged again.

"Can I put my presents under the tree then? You guys do that, right?" Erik moved to get up from the couch, only to have Ryan pull him back.

"Yeah, but it can wait."

Erik's objection was silenced with Ryan's lips on his, then Ryan's tongue sliding into his mouth. And suddenly putting the gifts under the tree didn't seem quite as urgent as it had before.

The kiss was lazy, Ryan's tongue swiping at his and his swiping back, gentle nips of teeth and tugging on lips. There was no hurry, no rush and Erik let himself sink into the kiss, absorbing as much of Ryan into his heart as he could. With each passing minute in Ryan's arms, Erik felt the bone-deep weariness of life melt away, replaced with a refreshing sense of satisfaction and completeness. This is where he belonged, where he was made whole, with Ryan yes, but it went beyond that.

Every time he landed in Toronto and Erik took that first step off the plane onto the jet bridge, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He felt free, more at ease, and his steps felt lighter, quicker. It happened every single time, and while he had previously brushed it off as the ease of vacation, this time Erik wondered if there was something more.

They shifted on the couch, now lying side-by-side in the narrow space with Erik perched right on the edge and in danger of falling off. But he knew he was safe. Because Ryan's arms were around him, holding him fast, drawing him in to safety. Erik threw his thigh over Ryan's hip and snuggled in closer.

Every time he went back to New York, he had to steel himself as the plane descended into the airport. The minute the seatbelt sign went off, it was like the starting gun of a race had sounded and he was off in a mad dash. He could never figure out where the urgency came from; he was usually just going home. But it was there just the same, just as it was there when he walked down the sidewalk or hopped onto the subway, like every step was a battle, and life was a war.

They fell asleep on the couch together. And when Erik opened his eyes next he was alone, covered in a blanket. He stretched the ache out of his muscles and sat up to find Caesar sitting on the coffee table watching him.

"Hey, Caesar..." He tried to keep his tone light. God knows what the cat was thinking behind those creepy intelligent eyes.

Caesar flicked his tail, lifted his head arrogantly and stalked off without a backward glance. Standoff averted.

Erik went in search of Ryan but didn't find him anywhere in the apartment. His suitcase still sat where they'd left it when they'd gotten back from the airport, so he moved it into the bedroom and opened it to pull out the presents. He was going to have to make multiple trips downstairs, unless...

With a small pile of his clothes and toiletries laid out on the bed, Erik dragged the still mostly full suitcase down the stairs. The door to Rachel and Tom's apartment was open; the Christmas tree was right in front of the big window overlooking the street and visible from the front door. Voices drifted from the kitchen at the back of the house, one male and one female, but not loud enough for Erik to overhear the conversation. He went ahead and stuck his presents under the tree; there were already quite a few there. Then, leaving his empty suitcase by the door, he ventured back to find the source of the voices.

"How long are you going to go on like this?" That was Rachel, and Erik stopped just out of sight of the doorway, some instinct telling him to wait.

"What do you mean?" Ryan asked. It didn't seem like they had heard him in the living room.

"I mean, you guys are obviously crazy about each other. But you live here and he lives in New York. You've already told me you're not moving back there, so when are you going to ask him to move here?"

Erik's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. He wanted to run away. He wanted to go in there and demand that Rachel stay out of their personal lives. But instead, he stood rooted to the spot. Eavesdropping.

"I never said I'd wouldn't move back to New York." Not that Ryan sounded very convincing.

"You're kidding, right?" Something heavy, maybe a coffee mug, thudded on a hard surface. "You've pretty much implied it up and down. You're honestly going to tell me you're willing to go back there?"

The silence that followed was so typically Ryan shutting down and backing away from something difficult.

"Ryan, seriously. You can't go back there."

Ryan mumbled something under his breath that Erik couldn't catch.

"So then, tell him to move here!"

"I can't." A chair scrapped against the floor, and Erik tensed, but neither one in the kitchen had moved toward the doorway.

"Why not?"

"Because his work is there. Besides, if it's not okay for him to ask me to move to New York, why would it be okay for me to ask him to move here?" Ryan—always the academic.

"Because Toronto's not a soul-sucking city like New York."

Erik gritted his teeth, but he had to admit that Rachel had a point.

"And can't he do the same work here? I mean, Toronto's got a thriving film industry, doesn't it? There's TIFF!"

It was a simplistic argument but not one that Erik could disagree with. There was a decent film industry in Toronto. But moving to Toronto would definitely be considered a step back—not suicidal to his career, but certainly not moving forward.

"Rach..." Ryan sighed heavily. "I can't ask him to come. What if he comes and then he hates it? It would be my fault, and I can't do that to him. If he wants to move up here, he's got to have to want to do it himself."

Erik bit his lip before the weird jumble of emotions rolling around in the pit of his stomach came spilling out. He eased quietly away from the doorway, sneaked back upstairs, and headed straight for the bathroom. Leaning over the toilet, he breathed through the sudden urge to hurl. What was wrong with him? When the nausea subsided, he sat back against the wall, arms propped up on his knees in front of him, head tilted back and stared at the ceiling.

It always came back to the same question: would he move to Toronto? It was like their entire relationship centered on his answer to that question. The problem was, he didn't know what his answer was.

He loved Ryan. With everything inside of him. And he knew that Ryan loved him back. But was that enough for him to pack up his life in New York and move to a different country? He didn't know. On the surface, it made all the sense in the world, but still there was that clawing, grasping feeling that held him to New York when the city's appeal was dying with each passing day.

He rubbed his hands over his face. He didn't know what to do. And if Ryan meant what he had told his sister, the decision would have to be Erik's to make.