When they’re on the run, and it’s just the three of them, it doesn’t seem like a crazy idea--at least not as crazy as a massive, suicidal prison break, not as crazy giving up everything to flee to South America. They sleep in the car sometimes, in the woods sometimes and sometimes in hotels or people’s spare room, but they’re always together. It’s safer and it makes them feel better. After a while, the three of them just are. A glance or a touch is enough to say everything.
It doesn’t seem crazy, it seems like the way it always should have been. Brian doesn’t know who starts it, or how--whether it’s a small bed they all squeeze into or a night after a close call with the policia--only that Dom’s mouth catches his and steals his breath and Mia feeds it back to him.
At first Brian is the barrier stretched between them like a sheet for bundling but that could only last so long, no matter how they fool themselves. They’re too close for anything between them, even taboos.
Dom runs, he runs for months and they feel his absence like a phantom limb. They cling together harder, always conscious they’re incomplete now. When Mia stops Dom from leaving them again, when he backs down, Brian knows they’ve won.
Sometimes he sits and watches them sleep, tangled in each other. Sooner or later one of them will reach out in their sleep, looking for him and he’ll crawl back into bed and wrap himself around them and think he can never regret this. Everything else in his life was just waiting.