Then he gave me the shirt, and turned and walked away in the rain.
Fight it, I urged myself.
I wanted to run after him, tell him everything I didn’t have the words to convey. I wanted to tell him to come back, to wrap us in the cocoon again, live in our own little happy world away from everyone else.
But he had already disappeared into the darkness.
14
Jon
A sensation of freedom flooded through me as the rain cascaded around me.
I was drenched, but I didn’t care.
I’d done it. I finally had the guts to do what I’d longed to do for years.
I had the courage to let him go. To give Victor his shirt back, and relinquish it from my collection of things I used to hold onto the past.
The shirt was light as a feather; nothing but flimsy fabric. But it was heavier than anything I’d ever carried. Without it, I felt like I could fly.
I looked across the gray Seattle landscape from the top of this hill. The city glimmered beneath me; this city so far away from home.
It occurred to me that ever since Martin threw me in that closet, I’d made my whole life a closet. After a short stint at Dartmouth, doing the same things, hanging out with the same people, I returned to the same place I grew up. I’d built fences around my life; imprisoning myself in a cage surrounded by bars of what other people thought.
But now, I felt free.
I was out of the closet.
Best of all, I was out of that closet.
And the feeling of freedom that came with it was so cathartic, the only way I could describe it would be something akin to a divine experience.
Rebirth.
I tilted my head back to the sky and opened my mouth; caught some raindrops on my tongue.
For once, there was nowhere to rush off to. There was nowhere to be; nothing to run from.
I was done running.
I was finally done running from myself.
Here on this hilltop, I didn’t have to think about what was next. I could take my time exploring this brand new world of glimmering lights and truth and wonder. And now that I’d set Jon free, in a way, I’d gained my own freedom.
Even if he never talked to me again, at least now he knew how I felt about him. I didn’t have to keep that inside anymore, and now I could finally leave the poor guy alone.
He was furious with me.
Hell, I’d be furious with me, too. I didn’t know why he’d put up with me for so long—
“Jon!”
I turned around and saw Victor standing there, in the middle of the deserted street.
The look on his face was pain—so much pain.
I wanted to take it away. But I knew every time I talked to him, I was sucking him back into my bullshit.
So I turned toward the city and kept walking away from him.
Even if every step away from him felt like walking through quicksand.
Even if walking away from him was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life.
I heard splashing behind me.
He touched my shoulder.
I didn’t turn around.
“Listen to me!” he cried.
I finally stopped. Then I turned to look at him.
He was still giving me that look of misery; the look that painted all the pain I’d ever caused him all over his face.
I couldn’t stand looking at his face like that. I couldn’t bear to see him in pain.
I wanted to see him happy; away from me. With someone else.
Pain shot through my thumb. I forced my hand to stay still at my side.
We panted while we started at each other like that.
Our surroundings were blurred by the rain, but they didn’t matter.
He took a step toward me and kissed me, right there in the street.
It was a kiss filled with so many emotions: I tasted anger, rage, joy, betrayal, frustration, misery, happiness—all of it.
I leaned into the kiss, forgetting all the reasons I’d pulled away.
None of that mattered. All that mattered was us, here, in this frozen moment in time.
I think we both knew, then.
All the kisses before this one had been nothing but bandaids.
He’d never stopped giving me bandaids.
But now? Now we were both bleeding for each other. And there was nothing that could stop that bleeding.
The best part? Neither of us wanted it to stop.
He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes fluttered closed.
Victor’s arms were draped over my shoulders.
We touched foreheads, eyes closed, savoring the moment alone in the rain.
The tender moment rushed around us with the water in the street gutter.
That moment was surreal. It was the moment that we both realized we couldn’t go on without each other.
“Dammit, Jon,” he said, tears streaming down his face.
“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
He kissed the sorry out of me.
And damn, the tears were running down my face, too.
Because finally, I’d surrendered. I was a man facing the inevitable.
Every road I traveled away from my box, away from my closet, led to Victor.
After an eternity, his hands went to mine.
“Come home with me.”
I knew he meant more than his physical house.
Home was where I belonged.
I belonged with him.
That night, we had sex.
It was more than just sex with our bodies.
It was sex of our minds; sex of our hearts; sex of our souls. We were braided together in every way a person could be braided to another.
He didn’t fit all the way in—it was just the tip again. But that was enough. There’d be time, now. Now that we’d gotten all of this clutter out between us, we could finally breathe. We could finally mesh and mold against one another in all of the ways we were supposed to. How things could have been, all this time. How they should have been.
When we were finished, we cuddled.
It felt right to do this. And finally, finally I had the courage to do what felt right. I was finally brave enough to hold everything I wanted in my arms instead of letting it follow me around in my head, or in the fibers of that shirt.
My man.
I didn’t have to ask him where this was going.
We both knew where this was going. There weren’t any of those post-hookup questions floating through the air, because we already knew all the answers.
Victor was mine and I was his.
He stirred in my arms.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
“You. Us,” he said. “And… and how this will work.”
“You want it to work?” I asked, a little too hopefully. “I want it to work.”
“Of course I want it to work. I can’t… I can’t have it not work,” he said. “You know this. We’ve tried to break up. We’ve failed.”
I smiled and nestled closer to him. “I’m so glad we’ve failed.”
“Might as well stop fighting it,” he said softly.
I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was smiling, and that filled me with joy. “Might as well. Will you be my boyfriend, Victor Petoskey?”
He chuckled and turned over, then looked in my eyes. “I guess if you ask me so formally, Jon Preston.”
“No,” I said, the smile running away from my face. “Just Jon.”
We shared a long kiss, and I felt complete.
After that night, Victor and I were attached at the hip. Everywhere he went, I went too.
I followed him to his shows. I loved discovering this side of Victor—the sheer magic and beauty and pain in all of his words that he used to serenade the crowd.
I could see that he was healing people; he’d found a way to give his life meaning.
I envied that, so I w
as taking steps to change my career, too. Sure, I was working remotely for the time being, but I had a few things planned on the horizon. Once I’d gotten rid of my facade, I found that I didn’t really have an interest in my job anymore.
I wanted to change everything about my life; shift it to how it was always meant to be:
At Victor’s side.
He didn’t know it yet, but I was building a website that helped closeted athletes form a support network. I was still working out the kinks and trying to keep it from becoming a massive Grindr, but I’d already hired an engineer and a design consultant to help me with that. As a matter of fact, I was watching it become a company before my very eyes.
And the best part? I could work on it remotely. Which meant I could follow Victor to his shows all around the world—only if he wanted me to, of course. I did my best to stay out of his way, but also tried to make myself useful. I’d get him water and snacks, and keep people out of his meditation space before he played a set.
One night before he went on stage in Spain, he asked if he could talk to me in private.
A sinking feeling settled in my chest. Was he going to break up with me? Had he finally realized he was too good for me? Was he going to cast me out on the street like the garbage I was? Wash away the mirage?
Because honestly, every moment with Victor felt like it was too good to be true.
It felt like I was living in a dream, and that I’d wake up any moment to a bucket of cold reality on my face.
But what he said to me in that back room—though terrifying—wasn’t breaking up with me.
It was a challenge to take the next step.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked with a kiss. “I don’t want you to do anything if you aren’t ready.”
I looked into his deep blue eyes, determined. “I’m ready.”
“Alright,” he said, then took the stage.
I watched from the crowd as he ensnared everyone in the audience.
I’d never seen an entire room fall in love with one person before, and before I met Victor, I didn’t believe it was possible. Yet, here I was, watching it happen.
I was watching everyone fall in love with my man—my boyfriend.
The only person that really mattered to me.
His set was so moving that a tear leaked from the corner of my eye. I felt swayed; I felt vulnerable.
I felt real.
And it was finally okay to feel real.
It was okay to revel in this… whatever this was.
I didn’t know why I’d ever tried to fight it. I was being stupid.
Fighting love was like shaking your fist at a hurricane and expecting the thing to turn right around and fuck off.
I wiped my face as Victor’s lyrics fell into my ears.
I knew this song… this song full of pain and heartbreak…
He’d written it the morning after our reconnection at the hotel.
The morning I told him I was going to come out, but then I still lacked the courage.
Guilt, wistfulness, regret, and finally, happiness shifted around in my gut like a kaleidoscope, moving in time to the music.
Finally, after he hit the last, lingering note, a heavy silence fell over the crowd and the lights went down.
I could feel the resonance in the room; this cave of souls. We were all connected by this feeling; keenly attuned to this invisible web.
Everyone was in synch. Everything was right in the world.
Then the crowd erupted in applause.
A blue light shone on the stage.
Victor stood up from his keyboard and took the mic.
He said some words, thanked the audience, then said, “Now there’s someone I want all of you to meet.”
A swooping sensation passed through me, like cresting a roller coaster.
It was time.
I stepped up the stairs, and felt lighter with each step. Then, finally, I was on the stage.
I could feel the eyes of the audience on me. But they didn’t feel judgmental; just curious.
Victor wrapped an arm around my waist and said into the mic, his voice booming, “This is my boyfriend, Jon. He saved me from the depths of the music I just played to you.”
I smiled, and I knew tears were pouring down my face.
The catharsis was unreal. The coming out, and being out, was… it was…
This was what life was about.
I felt fearless. I felt invincible.
I was gay as fuck, and I didn’t care who knew it.
As long as I had Victor by my side, everything was right in the world.
I could see camera flashes in the crowd, and I didn’t care about that, either. I knew everything would end up online. Instead of the horrible fear I’d felt when Martin showed me the evidence on his phone, I felt proud.
I was proud to have Victor by my side, and I thanked my lucky stars that a miracle had happened:
He seemed just as proud to have an idiot like me at his side, too.
I leaned over and kissed him on the mouth, long and deep.
This time, the kiss said, I love you.
He blinked at me slowly as the crowd cheered, lingering on the edges of the kiss.
But I knew it wasn’t enough to just say it with a kiss.
I seized the microphone from him and said, into it, my voice booming, “I love you, Victor Petoskey. I love everything that you are. I’ve loved you my entire life. Always.”
Tears sparkled in his eyes and he smiled.
Happy tears.
I’d finally made him happy.
Then I kissed him again. This time, the kiss promised that I’d make him happy every day for the rest of my life.
The crowd roared at my revelation and the applause crescendoed.
I threaded my fingers through Victor's and faced the crowd.
This whole time, I thought it was me and Victor against the world; that everyone was just waiting to expose me and ruin my life.
But it wasn’t us against the world at all.
The world was with us, cheering us on.
I’d spent all this time building a life that wasn’t even worth ruining. No; it was nothing but a facade; ugly scaffolding built around the truth:
I belonged with Victor and he belonged with me.
We were destined. I think I always knew that, at least partially, at the core of my being; that’s why I picked on him. That’s why I did it.
I need his attention. I needed his eyes on me, whether it was good or bad.
I needed him to acknowledge that we were tied together throughout time, winding around each other endlessly toward the horizon.
And now, finally, things were right where they were always meant to be.
Our lives were finally in synch.
In tandem, Victor and I took a bow to the cheering crowd, then kissed again.
This time, the kiss verified what I felt in my chest:
Everything was right in the world.
A Note from the author
Thank you so much for reading my book! Doing this would not be possible if not for all of you wonderful, wonderful readers!
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Thank you, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart!
- Jeremy
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