A Promise Fulfilled [WattyAwards#2012]

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"Simply touching a difficult memory with some slight willingness to heal begins to soften the holding and tension around it."

― Stephen Levine, A Year to Live: How to Live This Year as If It Were Your Last.

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Dex was frying vegetables over the stove when Haley came home. "Hey," she called from the hallway, and strolled into view, tossing her jacket over the chair and bounding up to him. "What are you making?"

"Pasta," he answered, gesturing at the pot boiling in the other corner of the stove.

"Gross," she said, and Dex reached over his shoulder to whack her. She danced back and glared at him, her lips curling into a smile. "Hitting a lady?"

"You're no lady," Dex told her with a smirk, and she flipped him off coolly before grabbing a kitchen chair and straddling it. "How was work?"

"Ugh." She dropped her forehead into her hands. "You would not believe the number of a**holes I have to deal with on a daily basis."

"You work as a receptionist."

"Exactly. Travel agents are dicks." She studied the nails on her left hand. "Seriously. They all act like you, only worse."

"Thanks Haley."

"Hey, no problem. I'm gonna change." She stood up, and danced forward a few steps to press a kiss to Dex's cheek before darting away.

Dex finished frying the vegetables, and smiled when he heard Haley's singing drifting over from the other room.

It was getting somewhat easier, living like this. He learned Haley the same way he learnt Timmy, and she learned him back, that special language of small gestures and eyebrow twitches. Small touches, tangles of arms and legs and laughter.

Some days, it was even alright to talk about Hope. It was okay for Haley to talk about the man she went on a date with last Friday—some guy named Edward—and talk about how it was okay for her to get out and experiment for the first time since high school. Other days, Haley could ask about Timmy, could ask about Dex's family, and it didn't hurt, not so much, because he knew Timmy was coming back for him, and his parents tried.

Dex moved over to stir the pasta. It reminded him of the first time he cooked with Timmy, back on Baby Place. He remembered when Timmy told him about the god Hephaestus and his fall to Lemnos. Cast down from Olympus only to be nursed back to health.

He wondered where Timmy was now.

Because with every good day, there were the days where every thought of Timmy made Dex felt sick to his stomach with worry, where the mention of Hope sent Haley off into the bathroom for hours on end on the pretense of doing her nails, when Dex really knew she was crying. And when those days happened, that careful friendship they were building seemed to shake, and the cracks reappeared, highlighting just how incredibly fragile this entire things really was. The cracks that Timmy managed to cover up, dangerous.

Dex could never be sure what kind of day it was.

Those times when they were both lonely were the worst. Then, even though they might sit by side, they might as well be all alone in the universe, and nothing could bring them back.

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Tonight, with Haley singing as she changed into sweatpants and Dex channeling his energy into cooking, was a night when they were both marginally okay, or at least as okay as they could be. Dex was sure that was why Haley brought it up.