He never allows himself to say what is in his heart. From the very beginning, from their very first night together, Fraser has been aware that his devotion to Ray is all encompassing, obsessive, perhaps unhealthy. If he gives voice to these things out loud he knows he will sound mad. But he must know, must somehow manage to ask. He rips a page from his journal and writes: "How could I go on without you? Who will look for me when I am gone?"
Months later, when they are back in the city and the nights are soft and warm, he finds a postscript has been added. Ray’s messy, almost illegible handwriting sprawls across the page in his journal, a comfortable stretch of words beneath his own desperate, cramped penmanship.
I’ll always find you, it says.
He never allows himself to say what is in his heart. But Ray figures it out anyway.