du_vallon | (no subject)

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He's definitely walked into something strange.

Porthos had finished up with the gym and stopped at the grocery store to pick up the fixings for tacos made with tilapia and other salsas, picking up beer and wine too, and when he gets home, there's the sound of rapid Spanish and laughter, two voices that he only recognizes one of. Wandering inside warily, he hangs up his coat and then feels a touch like he should have changed, because standing there in his bike shorts and a tight t-shirt makes him feel suddenly on display.

"Aramis," he greets politely, gaze sliding over to the man with him. He's handsome, that's for sure, but that could just be Porthos' appreciation of men like Aramis talking. "I didn't know we had company for dinner," he says, glancing at the already exhausted bottles of wine, a touch jealous that he'd missed out on so much drinking.

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Porthos grins at Aramis adoringly, always happy to hear about how Aramis had pined for him. "You should also know that we're good at discretion," he says cautiously. "If there's anything about your relationship with Daniela that you don't want the papers learning about here. We're not going to go tell. We've got out own lives to worry about."

"That is true," agrees Aramis. "Loyalty is very important to us - the code of the Musketeers has not been forgotten. You may confide anything in us that you feel you can't to the public for the sake of your career. Besides."

Aramis smiles at him. "I am your friend. I hope Porthos will be, also. And after losing so many friends and brothers in battle we take such bonds quite seriously."

They know. That's all Lito can think. There is hinting and then there is this demanding insistence and the panic comes back to Lito. His gaze slides over to his phone, in a different position than he last left, and it aches because why did it have to be pictures on a phone again? He should have deleted them, only he misses Hernando so, so much now, and it is his only tie back to him. "What did you see?" he demands.

Porthos feels half glad that he hadn't been the one to look at the phone, because his poor liar's face would do them both in. He shakes his head, having seen nothing, and only Aramis' word is what he has. "What?" he rebukes, blinking too much with too-wide eyes. "Haven't got any idea what you mean."

"You," Aramis admits, angling himself in front of Porthos and his miserable attempts at innocence. "There is something you are not telling us, Lito, it is evident every time you speak of home. If you would rather it be a secret from everyone in Darrow, then so be it, but I think keeping so much inside will hurt you in the end. There is someone, isn't there?"

Aramis takes a breath. "Other than Daniela."

He debates asking Aramis to get Porthos to leave, but suspects that whatever they discuss will end up known by the large man anyhow. Caught out, tipsy, and too tired to lie, Lito has to face the fact that someone knows. At least, unlike Joaquin, they will not try and blackmail him for this. "Yes," he breathes out, the single word aching more than ever. "And no," he admits.

"Not anymore."

Instantly, Porthos feels a touch guilty, because he hadn't considered that when Aramis had been snooping on the phone. He pushes at Aramis' hip to get himself seen again. "We won't tell, either way," he adds, because he really does mean this. "It's not our business to tell other people's secrets."

Aramis nods and goes to the pantry, retrieving a small pile of the chocolate biscuits made in Porthos' last mad gym and baking scramble. "What happened?" he asks, pushing the plate towards Lito. "You don't have to tell us, of course, but we will listen."

Words he has spoken many times to Athos, and Aramis has to wonder how they seem to attract such self-loathing friends.

Lito cannot even say this aloud to himself. He doesn't think he can confess to strangers, especially not those inside his own head. He has so many secrets now, he thinks, but this one is straightforward. "I was a coward," he says quietly. "And I was left, because of it. Deservedly so. And now Daniela is in trouble and I am alone," Lito complains, ignoring the cookies because he does have to watch his figure.

Forlorn, he slumps forward and wishes, not for the first time, for Riley to be in his head and to teach him how to bear with this grief.

Porthos can't imagine what it would be like if Aramis or Athos had ever actually left him, of their own volition, like that. He fights back the icy awareness that it could happen if they vanished, because it doesn't make sense to dwell like that. "I'm sure it can't be as bad as you think it is," he offers, trying to be positive.

"But what happened?" asks Aramis, for if Lito will allow this much, he will surely tell them more. "What could you have done to make your lover leave you?"

Aramis shares a quick look with Porthos. "Did it have to do with keeping up appearances for your career?"

"It is a very long and complicated story, but yes. Yes, it was because I didn't want to tell the world who I was," Lito says. "I'm an action star and I'm known for my romance roles. If people knew that I was deeply in love with another man, I might never work again and acting is my passion."

"Only, I think Hernando might have been more," he says his name for the first time out loud, a grieving sob in his throat. "He left me, though. And I cannot fix my mistake here."

Porthos feels guilt and sympathy, now, upset that they've forced him into talking about this. "I'm sorry," he gets out hoarsely, pouring him more wine. He looks to Aramis, wondering how much of a wreck Porthos would be if Aramis were to leave him. It'd probably be worse than this, and so he knows how bad it can be. "So you're going to pursue a career again here? With the same front?"

Aramis, too, looks stricken by the full force of Lito's grief, and he rounds the counter, laying a hand on his shoulder. "That is terrible," he says, and even if he knows that he would always choose Porthos now, he can remember very well the choice to leave him for the Church, believing himself bound to it, the agony of taking those first steps away from him towards Douai.

"Are you certain you wish to start it all again?" he asks Lito.

"What's the point of anything else?" Lito questions. "The only person who will ever hold my heart like that is not here. If I cannot have him, then there is no reason to tell the world the truth. No," he says, determined and stubborn. "No, there is no reason for me to step away from the lie."

Porthos looks to Aramis, sensing what his thoughts have turned towards because his are there too, wondering how he's able to cope at home with Aramis gone and he can't imagine the grief and heartache that must assault that Porthos. "It's your choice," he says, which is more a reminder to Aramis than anything. "But would he be okay with that, if he did show up?"

"And would you, even if he did not?" asks Aramis, squeezing Lito's shoulder. "A lie of that enormity is such a burden. Why live under it if you do not have to, especially twice? You say you were a coward at home, but you could be brave here."

Aramis' lips thin. "Suppose it is the only way left to you to honor him."

Lito grimaces, thinking that all of this is too much to think about and process for him, when he really just wants to stew in his heartache and loneliness, lean into the empty void in his head and pretend he can deal with this. "And never work here? I would go mad," he says quietly. "No. No, no, no, unless he is here, then there is no cause for any romance."

Porthos can't help but be disappointed. He's always been a fan of people telling each other the truth and being honest and this seems against it, but then again, it's not like Porthos had told Aramis how he felt about him for years and years. So maybe he has no place to talk. "It's your choice," he reiterates. "Right, Aramis?"

"Your choice," Aramis agrees, for forcing Lito into anything will not help him, even if they had that power. Aramis drifts sadly back to Porthos' side. "There is freedom," he says, "And peace, in being true to oneself. I hope that someday you will find it, my friend."

Lito wants to believe it is that easy, but he cannot so quickly give himself over to such a belief. "You cannot tell anyone," he says instead, hitting on that hard. "Without him, I am not my truest self. There are pieces missing, so I want to focus on my career," he says stubbornly, not wanting to come out anytime soon.

"I don't think that will change."

Porthos disagrees, but it isn't his choice. He wraps an arm around Aramis' waist to draw him in without overtly showing that he's touching Aramis, so damn happy that he's managed to find himself this kind of happiness. "I'll get dinner out, won't I?" he suggests, to change the subject because it seems like it so desperately needs it. "Don't worry," he promises Lito. "We'll talk about something else. And we meant it. We won't say a word."

Aramis nods, still saddened to think of Lito living such a life, but he cannot chip away at every mountain. Athos takes most of their resolve - all they can do is provide Lito with an ear when he needs it. "Go ahead and sit, Lito," he says, gesturing to the table. "Porthos and I will bring the food, and you can regale us with tales of your roles at home."

Lito allows himself to be coaxed to dinner. Despite the earlier bits of the evening and his constant worry that he will be found out because his secret will not be kept, it is enjoyable enough. He talks about his film roles and teaches whatever little Spanish he can. He is full when he leaves and still worried, but feels he will be able to tolerate this.

After all, there is always denial. He thanks them for a lovely dinner before he leaves, feeling on edge and eager for more to drink, but this time he will do it within his own house.

Porthos locks the door after him, breathing out to try and lose the tension, but it's hard to do when the air feels thick with it. Instantly, he turns to find Aramis (tidying up some of the dishes) and pries them from his grasp to pin Aramis to the table. "Thank god you're not that pent up about your feelings," he growls. "I wouldn't be able to stand it."