Trevor didn't speak at first. He understood what it meant that Lucas had said it out loud. He lifted his head just slightly, still close enough that their foreheads touched. Lucas held Dean a little tighter, as if grounding himself through the warmth of their son.
"When did you finish it?" Trevor asked quietly.
"Last month," Lucas murmured. "I didn't tell you. I wasn't sure I could."
Trevor nodded once.
"It took me years," Lucas admitted. "Every time I opened it, I felt sick. I'd read a few pages, then close it again. I kept telling myself I didn't need to know more. That is enough; you have read it and, God, you do such a good job at protecting us."
His voice didn't shake, but his shoulders did. Dean breathed softly in his arms, his small fingers curled near Lucas's collarbone.
Trevor brushed Lucas's knuckles with his thumb, his warmth bleeding into their hold.
"But I wanted to know why my life was repeated two times… while the third is the peaceful one."
