This was the infamous Cody. Donny closed his eyes and was met with the memory of Roland’s face when he’d told Donny he left me, instead of admitting whether Cody had been his boyfriend or not. But Donny could see it clearly now. Cody had definitely been a boyfriend, if not more than a boyfriend. He displayed a level of familiarity with Roland that reinforced the intensity of the roiling hurt inside Donny’s gut.
“What are you doing here?” That was Roland again.
“I was walking by with some friends and I saw your paintings.” Cody gestured to the sunrises hanging behind them.
“How did you know they were mine?” Roland’s voice had dropped, but Donny could still hear him clearly. Donny wanted to leave, was desperate to not overhear this conversation, it wasn’t for him, but his feet wouldn’t cooperate, and he was too old to clamp his hands over his ears and scream to drown out the noises around him.
Cody lifted his hand and pressed it gently against Roland’s chest in a move that reeked of familiarity. “I’d recognize your art anywhere, Rolly.”
Rolly?
Donny was actually going to be sick.
“Please don’t call me that.” Roland’s voice was laced with hurt and he stepped back, leaving Cody’s hand to fall down to his side.
“Roland,” Cody started, but Roland cut him off.
“What did you mean to accomplish by coming in here, Cody?” Roland’s mood had shifted and now leaned toward agitated. Donny recognized the signs, why didn’t Cody?
“You haven’t had a showing in years,” Cody offered.
Roland’s jaw clenched. “That’s not an answer.” He brought his hands together in front of him and started drumming the fingers of his right hand across the outside edge of his left hand.
Cody ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the ground. “We didn’t leave things in a good spot, did we?”
“We didn’t leave things in any way, Cody, you’re the one who left. You left everything.”
Donny felt the acute pain of every word that left Roland’s mouth like a knife in his own heart. Roland raised a hand and Donny thought he was scratching his eyebrow, but Roland was tapping at the inside of his eyebrow with his first two fingers. He moved to rest his hand on his temple, but Donny watched the tapping continue.
“That’s not fair, Roland.” Cody took a step in to bridge the distance Roland had put between them.
“You’re right. It wasn’t fair, back then, to either of us. I get it now.” Roland dropped his hands and dared a glance across the gallery to Donny. “It wasn’t right for me to be involved with you, or to expect you to want to be with me. I was a mess. I get it now.”
“You’re not the only one who has faults.”
“That’s true.” Roland glanced up at Cody and briefly smirked, before the smile fell from his face.
“You look real good, Roland. Healthy. Happy.” Cody cupped the back of his neck with his hand and scratched at his hairline. Roland tapped his first two fingers against his chin, looking at Cody from the side of his eye. “Are you? Are you taking care of yourself?”
Donny stepped to the side, searching out a table. He couldn’t keep watching the interaction between Roland and Cody, it seemed too intimate, too familiar. He set the glass down harder than he’d intended, but he was shaking and didn’t trust himself to not drop it.
“I’m trying. I fucked up with someone recently, though, and I’m trying to make it right,” Roland replied, and Donny jerked. His hip slammed into the table, and the glass fell over with a thud. He quickly righted it before it rolled onto the floor. He lowered his eyes and watched the ginger ale drip down the edge of the tablecloth.
This was his worst nightmare. Donny had been certain the pain of seeing Roland happier without him than with him was the worst thing he could feel, but he’d been wrong. This, here and now, having a front row seat to Roland reconnecting with his ex was too much for him to handle.
A tear slipped out of Donny’s eye and slid down his cheek. He raised a hand to wipe it away before anyone, especially Roland, could notice. He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have listened to Athena. This was a cruel fucking punishment to endure.
“Cody, I need to go. Take care of yourself, okay?” Roland said, taking a step back from Cody.
Donny stepped to the side, bumping into the table again. The glass didn’t fall this time, and for that, he was thankful. He tried to blink his eyes into focus so he could find an easy escape route, but his vision wouldn’t clear. He took a step and stumbled, righted himself on the edge of the table and tried again.
“Don’t go.”
That was Roland’s voice. Donny grabbed his stomach with one hand and fumbled his way through the crowd to the door. After what felt like an eternity, he made it outside. He sucked in breath after breath, the cold air numbing his lungs as he fought off his pending hyperventilation. His cheeks froze, from the tears no doubt. He wiped at his face with both hands, streaking the proof of his anguish across his skin.
Fingers grasped for his arm and spun him backward. He stumbled, but was caught in a strong grip that supported him and righted him on his feet. It was Roland. Of course it was Roland. Handsome, and talented, and not his boyfriend Roland.
“I said, don’t go,” Roland spoke softly, the words obviously only for Donny’s ears.
Donny squeezed his eyes closed but tears escaped anyway. He’d made it two whole days without crying; why did he have to start again now?
“Why not, Rolly?” Donny choked out, tipping his chin toward the gallery, toward Cody.
Roland groaned, and flexed his fingers around Donny’s biceps. “Don’t call me that,” Roland repeated, this time to Donny. “That’s not who I am. Not anymore.”
“Oh?” Donny opened his eyes and was met with an up close Roland whose eyes were clouded with concern. “Who are you trying to be then?”
Roland’s mouth quirked with a small smile that was gone just as quickly as it’d appeared. He smoothed his palms down Donny’s arms, until he held Donny’s elbows in his hands. Roland stroked his thumbs back and forth across Donny’s skin.
“Just Roland.”
Chapter 29
Explained In Color And Shape
Roland’s first observation was Donny looked like shit. After he recovered from the shock of seeing Donny in the flesh after they’d been separated for a week, Roland snuck appraising glances his way and found his appearance gaunt and tired. He was on his way to finally get a verbal apology out when Cody showed up out of nowhere.
To say Roland was shocked would have been an understatement. He vividly remembered the pain of Cody abandoning him and it was all he felt when he looked at the man now. Then, for Cody to have the audacity to ask for a date? Definitely not.
Roland watched the shades of hurt and pain flash across Donny’s eyes before he stumbled into a table and then made his way outside. Roland shrugged Cody off and was able to grab Donny as he made it to the sidewalk. There were tears streaming down his face and he looked desperate to be anywhere besides the same space as Roland.
“Oh? Who are you trying to be then?” Donny asked him, trying to be brave. Roland could hear the waver in his voice as he forced the words out.
A brief joy surged through Roland, lighting up his heart when he thought about who he was trying to be. Just Roland. He was trying to be Roland, and trying to find a good enough reason inside himself to wake up every day, even if he was waking up alone. He was trying to be the artist everyone thought he was, trying to be the person he’d painted from Donny’s drawing.
“Just Roland,” he said. He stroked his thumbs across the outside of Donny’s elbows, then traced his hands lower until his fingertips caressed Donny’s palms. “Donny, I am so sorry.”
Donny sniffed and nodded, pulling one of his hands free to wipe his face.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know why. You seem to be doing a lot better without me.” He gestured wildly to the gallery space.
“Yeah,
I mean, someone hung up some paintings I did while we were together. I’m doing a ton better now,” he countered dryly and Donny rolled his eyes.
“You know what I mean.” He stepped backward toward the curb.
“I don’t. You should tell me.”
“Shut up. I mean, look at you and then look at me.” Donny moved his hands between their bodies. “You got a haircut and you’re laughing and smiling and I’m just here, crying and eating Athena’s fucking sadness bacon.”
“Sadness bacon?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
The only sound that passed between them was Donny’s occasional sniffle. Roland desperately wanted to fix this, fix Donny, but he didn’t even know where to start. Donny hadn’t ever acted this way toward him before, not even on the nights Roland would curse and yell and break down. Donny had always stood stoic and let Roland get it out, then he’d take him to bed and hold him until he fell asleep. Donny deserved that care now, but Roland was afraid he wouldn’t be allowed to offer it.
“Can we go inside?” Roland extended a hand.
Donny looked up at him, his eyes as blue as ever. “Why? I think it’s best if I go.”
“I don’t want you to go.”
Donny scoffed, “It’s not all about what you want anymore, Roland. You told me to get out of your house, so I did. You can’t just try to act like that didn’t happen. I’m sorry isn’t going to undo the things you said to me.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“Then, what, Roland?” Donny threw his arms up in question then covered his face with his hands and shouted.
“There’s something I’d like to show you.”
“Tell me about Cody.”
Roland raised his eyebrows and coughed out a shocked, little sound. “Cody?” He wanted to pretend he didn’t know what Donny meant with his question, but his mind recalled the conversation clearly.
“He was my boyfriend. Until he wasn’t.” Roland ran a hand through his hair, still unused to the short length.
“Why did he leave you?”
“Are you asking if I forced him to go, like with you?” Roland licked his lips nervously. He hadn’t forced Cody to go so much as set up a situation where he felt like he had to go. Which was similar to what he’d done with Donny as well. Roland recognized the parallels now.
Donny nodded.
“I stopped taking my medication. I didn’t think I needed it anymore. He didn’t want to stay with me if I wasn’t on it.” Roland closed his eyes, the feelings of hurt still jagged in his memory.
“Did you love him?”
Roland opened his eyes and Donny was staring at him.
“Very much,” Roland answered honestly. “I thought he was it. But he wasn’t, and I’m glad he wasn’t. Seeing him tonight felt flat, and it felt wrong for him to be here. It should have been you in there next to me.”
Donny blinked slowly and Roland watched more tears slide down his face. He dared to reach up and wipe them. Donny flinched but didn’t pull away. Roland released a nervous breath and used his thumbs to dry Donny’s cheeks as best he could.
“Why should it have been me?” Donny raised his hands and set them atop Roland’s, which were still holding his face.
“If I hadn’t told you to go,” Roland choked on the words, heavy with regret. “Would you have stayed?”
Donny nodded. “Of course.”
“Then, that’s why.”
Donny turned his face and pressed a tender kiss against Roland’s palm, then pulled Roland’s hands away from his face. He lowered their hands, not quite separating their fingers, but not willing to hold on. Roland flexed his fingers and pulled Donny a step closer. He came willingly.
A smile teased across Roland’s mouth, but he tamped it down. Donny being willing to stand close to him was nothing, but then again, it was also everything. Roland lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to each of Donny’s exposed fingers, then held them tightly against his chest. His heart was pounding, and he was certain Donny could feel the erratic thump-th-thump as it rattled through his bones.
“There was a time when you saw me, Donny. You really saw me, when I didn’t even see me anymore, but you did. And I know I fucked up, and I need you to know telling you to leave was a huge fucking mistake.” Roland swallowed. “But I was jealous, and I was scared. Scared of not being enough for you and scared of being far too much for you. And I never wanted to make you feel the way you’re feeling now.” He struggled to find the words. “I know being with me isn’t easy.”
Donny chuckled through his tears, and Roland allowed himself a small smile.
“But it shouldn’t ever be that hard.” He took a chance and stepped another foot closer, erasing the distance between them. Their hands were shaking, and Roland wasn’t sure which of them was causing the fluttering. Maybe both.
Donny was looking at the ground, and Roland watched his exhales brush through the top of Donny’s hair.
“And I know it’s only been a week, but I’ve done a lot. I feel like I’ve run a marathon, but I see it now.”
Donny angled his head up to look at him, his mouth only inches away. Roland was fucking desperate to taste him again and bit the inside of his cheek to quell the urge.
“See what?” Donny breathed out. Roland could smell sugary ginger on his breath.
He allowed himself a larger smile now. “Me.”
Donny’s eyes moved, taking in what Roland assumed to be every wrinkle, every hair, and every truth he had written in his face.
“Okay,” Donny finally conceded.
“Okay?”
Donny nodded. “Show me what you want to show me.”
Roland smiled again, and turned, tugging Donny back into the gallery. Cody had left, or was at least out of sight, and for that Roland was relieved. He pulled Donny through the main part of the gallery and into a small corner in the back that had been set aside for Roland’s two newest works. They hung in a corner, only feet apart, but the distance was clear and intended.
There was no one in the space, and Roland moved Donny in front of him, so they were both facing the first canvas. He tentatively wrapped his hands around Donny’s hips and he didn’t tense or flinch, so Roland let the grip settle. That was when he felt the vibration. Donny was trembling.
Roland leaned down so his chin hovered near Donny’s shoulder and his breath ghosted across Donny’s ear.
“Does it look familiar?”
Donny nodded. “But you changed it.”
Roland breathed out a laugh, “I made it make sense.”
Donny turned and reached his fingers up to Roland’s face and laid them on his cheek. He looked over his shoulder at the painting, then back to Roland as he slowly traced the lines of his face with his shaking hands. Donny licked his lips and pulled them into his mouth, biting down. Roland observed Donny’s jaw tensing and releasing until Donny turned again and pressed his back against Roland’s chest.
“Is that really how you see yourself?” he whispered.
“It is now.”
Donny nodded and drew in a breath that caused his entire body to shudder.“ And the other?”
Roland turned them simultaneously, not willing to release his hold on Donny’s hips. He took the opportunity to ghost his fingers under the hem of Donny’s shirt and when he felt the heat radiate off Donny’s skin, he thought his knees might collapse.
“I painted this two days ago,” he whispered, pressing his cheek against the side of Donny’s face as he spoke. A tear fell from Donny’s eye and slid down Roland’s face at the point where their cheeks were touching. Then another, and another.
Donny looked down at the floor and wiped his face.
“Who is it?” he choked out, but his voice sounded watery and the words were garbled.
“You.” Roland folded his arms around Donny and held him. Donny shook his head violently, then his whole body was trembling.
“Yes,” Roland murmured in response to Donny’s silent denial. “I wi
sh you could see yourself the way I do.”
After he’d returned home from the first appointment with his therapist, Roland felt invigorated. Everything looked bright and alive, and he wanted to touch everything, and taste everything, and experience everything because it all felt new to him. He set up his last blank canvas and let the memory of Donny dance across his eyelids. It was as if every instance of Donny had combined into one monumental version of him and Roland snapped his eyes open, immediately aware of how to get it on the canvas.
He painted Donny as all his incarnations exploding out from one figure. The body on the canvas was most assuredly Donny, with his slender form and swooping lines— his back arched in ecstasy, surrounded by an explosion of color. The figure on the canvas was strong and confident, but scared and unsure too. It was every expression Roland had ever seen on Donny’s face explained in color and shape and glorious fucking movement.
Roland didn’t know how long he painted, but it was light again when he was done so he knew he’d been up through the night. He set his paintbrush down and stepped back, nearly out of breath from the energy he’d poured into the piece. He stared at it, and it was as if the canvas could have been Donny himself for the way it wrapped its way around Roland’s heart and wouldn’t let go.
Roland had sat down on the ground in front of the canvas and held his head in his hands and cried. Because even though he’d told Donny he loved him, it was in anger and misdirected, but Roland was 100% certain when he looked at this painting of his perfect, fucking wonderful Adonis, that he was undeniably in love. The mixed feelings of elation and regret were like a sucker punch, and Roland fought to regain his composure, finally needing to step out of the room to do so.
In the present, Donny was still trembling, still crying, but he’d turned and buried his face against Roland’s chest.
“I need you to know,” Roland said into Donny’s hair, “I am in love with you, and I am so sorry for what I’ve done.”
Donny used Roland’s chest to muffle his cries, and Roland held him as tightly as he dared.
The Colors Between Us Page 20