by Allan, S. H.
Josh gaped at him, realizing he had said precisely the wrong thing. “Flynn—”
“Fuck you, Josh. Fuck you, Mike. Fuck you both. Not you, Candice, I don’t swing that way.” Flynn flew out the door, making the normally sweet bell clang atonally.
“Flynn! Flynn!” Josh jumped up, but his chair was wedged in by the wall, and by the time he got outside, Flynn was long gone. Crap. Josh turned and saw an anti-marriage-equality poster glaring at him from a nearby telephone pole. He felt like throwing something at it. Instead, he went back inside. His phone buzzed, but he ignored it and sat down again.
“What were you guys arguing about?” He had to know how badly he’d hurt Flynn.
Mike shrugged. Candice answered Josh but didn’t take her eyes off her husband. “Just whether rock musicians can really sing, and thereby Mike implied Flynn can’t.” She was fuming, and Mike was trying to avoid her glare.
Shit. Josh closed his eyes and leaned back for a moment. Why hadn’t he just admitted he hadn’t been paying attention? He had screwed up big-time. He was going to need an even bigger bouquet of condom roses this time around.
IT WAS well after closing time at the bars when Flynn got home that night, reeking of alcohol and cigarettes. Josh was sitting on the couch waiting for him. He was working on his laptop, writing a new batch script to simplify that particular server’s reboot even further, a solution hopefully even Ian could handle.
“Flynn, I—”
His lover walked right past Josh without acknowledging his existence.
“Am so sorry.” Flynn was already out of sight, so Josh followed. He found his lover lying on the bed fully clothed, only his leather jacket discarded on the floor. “Flynn, honey—”
“Shhhh. Tryin’ ta sleep.”
Josh moved to the bed and pulled off Flynn’s boots. When he moved up to unfasten Flynn’s belt, though, his boyfriend rolled away from him.
“Leave m’ ’lone.” Flynn buried his face in the pillow.
“Honey—”
“Don’ touch me!”
Josh’s chest tightened.
Flynn turned toward Josh long enough to say, “Jus’… ’m tired.”
“Okay, Flynn… okay.” Josh stripped off his clothes slowly, opting to leave on his T-shirt and the briefs with the smiley face on each ass cheek. He climbed in bed as Flynn moved back over to his own side. Josh ached to hold him. Instead, he hugged himself and curled into a ball facing the back of the man he loved, careful not to touch him. It was a long time before he fell asleep.
JOSH was eating lunch and sharing half of it with Micro when Flynn finally dragged himself into the kitchen. “The coffee is a couple of hours old. I can make you a new pot.”
“I got it.”
“Want me to make you something to eat?” Josh tried to sound as ingratiating as possible.
“Not hungry.”
They both remained silent as Flynn made fresh coffee. Josh waited, barely moving except to pet Micro, anxious to see what his lover would do when he was done. He tried not to sigh in relief when Flynn came over and sat at the kitchen table with him.
“Flynn, I—”
“’S okay,” his boyfriend mumbled into his coffee.
The chest tightness came back. “No, it’s not, Flynn. I’m so sorry; I wasn’t paying attention.” He reached out and touched the other man’s hand, but Flynn only pulled it away.
“I can sing, Josh.”
This time a needle of pain stabbed through his heart. “Of course you can, Flynn. I would never say otherwise.” He was no longer hungry and gave the rest of his sandwich to the dog.
Flynn finally looked at him. “No, you wouldn’t, would you? But you believe it.”
The look on his boyfriend’s face would have had Josh on his knees if he had been standing. “No! No, I don’t! I know you can sing. You sing to me all the time.”
“Yeah, but not like Amy Winehouse.”
“Plenty of people who are great vocalists can’t sing like Amy Winehouse. Your voice is—”
Flynn slammed his palm on the table. Micro slunk underneath Josh’s chair and licked his hand. “Fuck, man! I didn’t say I can’t sing like her. I said I don’t sing like that to you. You never want me to sing that shit.” His face was tight with anger.
Josh wasn’t sure what would be best to say, so he didn’t say anything. Micro nudged at his hand, and he clutched her scruff.
Flynn deflated. “I know you weren’t even listening to Mike and me. You were too busy working.”
“Yeah. I’m a jerk. I’m sorry.” Josh didn’t try to make any excuses.
“You’re always on that phone, or on your laptop, or at work. It’s like you don’t have time for me anymore, like your job is more important than me.” Flynn looked so sad. Josh wanted to take him in his arms and just hold him, but he knew that wouldn’t help.
“Honey, nothing is more important than you are. I just… get wrapped up in my work. The servers are running and being accessed 24/7.” Micro abandoned him and moved to bat at Flynn’s hand with her muzzle.
“Can’t someone else deal with it?”
Josh shook his head. “That’s the problem. We’ve got… less than competent people working nights and weekends, and when something goes wrong, they call me.”
“Yeah, but can’t they call someone else? Can’t Rosita help? You said she’s real good.” Flynn was almost pleading.
“Uh… yes. Yes, I can work on that. We used to have a schedule, but no one followed it. Everyone just calls me. I can try to get people to go back to it.”
Flynn just looked at him.
“I mean, I’ll make it work so I’m not on call all the time.”
“Baby, I love you, but you’re a workaholic. That’s not going to change.”
Josh cringed. “Yes, it will. I mean, I’ll just be a workaholic when I’m not with you.” He had a hard time believing it himself.
Flynn stared at him with sadness. “What’s happening to us?”
A sucker punch wouldn’t have hurt as badly as that sentence. “What do you mean?” Micro sensed something was wrong and whined.
“You’re working all the time; I’m on the road. You don’t care about what I do. I try to care about yours, but I don’t get it. I feel like an idiot around you.”
Josh rubbed his chest to ease the discomfort. “You’re far from an idiot, Flynn. You’re brilliant, just in different areas. My work is just specialized. And I do care, very much. Ask people at work—they’re sick of your music because I play it all the time. I brag about you and your latest awards and special gigs. When you appeared on the Colbert Report last spring to sing your song about marriage equality, my team had an actual intervention to get me to shut up because it was all I talked about.”
“Really?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“You were kicked out of the Boy Scouts for being queer.”
“No, I was kicked out because I went to the awards ceremony wearing a dress to protest their position on gay rights.”
Flynn snorted. “Same diff.”
“Yeah, well, I still swear it: Your work is very important to me. Your music matters. You write and sing about real issues and real people. I am so proud of you. I’m sorry I don’t always show it.”
Flynn looked at Josh for a moment, then said to himself, “I gotta fix this.” He stood up. “I’m gonna get dressed.” When he reached the doorway, he turned just a little. “I can sing, Josh. There’s lots of stuff I can’t do, but I can sing.”
Before Josh could reply, Flynn was gone. And if Micro then had to lick unexplained water off Josh’s cheeks, it was no one’s business but his own.
OVER the next few weeks, Josh made an effort to change. He made up a backup support schedule at work and got the team to agree to follow it. At first, people called him anyway, but he would ignore the phone and text back the name and number of the person who was on call that night. By the beginning of the second week, Ian et al., stopped phoning and
texting him when it wasn’t his turn.
He tried not to work at home, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. On those nights, he apologized profusely, and Flynn said he understood. Josh tried to make it up to him by doing something special the next night. A couple of times, he surprised his boyfriend with a gift or a fancy dinner or tickets to a show. By the middle of the first week, Flynn was letting Josh touch him again, and by the weekend, they were back to having sex, thank the universe. When Flynn asked Josh if he would help him work on the marriage equality campaign, Josh readily agreed; it was something they could do together that was important to both of them.
But Flynn still seemed distracted and bothered by something. Josh knew his boyfriend, and something was off-key. He caught Flynn mumbling to himself saying things like “I’ve gotta fix this” and “I’m gonna do something about us.” His boyfriend claimed everything was fine, yet he wouldn’t sing to Josh anymore, no matter how much he begged and cajoled. Flynn always had a reason: his throat hurt, he’d just had ice cream or milk, his ears were clogged, he was too tired. Finally, Josh stopped asking. He was at a loss. He loved Flynn, and it hurt to see his partner unhappy. Somehow, he was the one who had to fix it, but he had no idea how. His old standby, a box of penis-shaped chocolates, just wouldn’t cut it this time.
“I LOVE you.”
Flynn smiled. “I love you too.”
“I mean, I really and truly love you.” Josh held his boyfriend tightly, feeling his lean muscles through his thin T-shirt.
“Baby, I know. I gotta go. Band’s waiting.” Flynn tried to push Josh away. It took three tries before Josh finally let go and stood back. His boyfriend climbed the steps into the smelly bus looking at him like he was being weird, which he probably was.
“You’re an amazing singer, and your fans all know it.”
At that, Flynn’s smile faded a little.
Damn. “And you know I’m your biggest fan. I mean it; you’re wonderful.”
“You too. I’ve got a plan.”
Anxiety pounded in Josh’s chest. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind. Love you.”
Flynn was still acting funny, and it scared Josh. “Please come back.”
Bemused, Flynn replied, “Of course.”
“Promise?”
Flynn cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. Then he nodded. “Promise.”
For some reason, Josh only felt worse. He didn’t have any tissues. Where was Micro when he needed her?
RING. Ring. “You missed me. I’m partying like a rock star. Leave a message.” Beep.
“Hi. I’m just wondering if you’re okay. I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, and I—” He what? If Josh said he was concerned, would that come across as too clingy? “I’m just checking in. Call me.” Crap. That sounded demanding. “I mean, if you want to.” He hung up the phone.
Josh was worried. It had been over a month since the tour started, and he’d only spoken with his boyfriend a few times. When Bugs Are Nervous was on tour, Flynn usually called him every single night. They’d talk for a while and then often had phone sex. Even when Flynn was really tired, they’d talk for a little bit. The few times they’d spoken on this tour, Flynn sounded harried and exhausted, begging off after only a minute or two, saying he was dealing with something. They’d only had phone sex once, and Flynn had fallen asleep midway through.
Was he having an affair? Josh felt a stab of pain, and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Hadn’t Mike mentioned something about beautiful guys “hanging all over” rock musicians? Flynn hadn’t argued with that. Oh God… what if he was leaving? Five years was a long time, especially for gay men with the societal pressures they faced. It was forever in the entertainment business. Long-distance relationships were hard, and when Flynn was home… well, Josh was hard to live with, no denying it.
No, he wouldn’t think about that, because if it was true, if his boyfriend was leaving him, his world would fall apart. As Flynn had said, Josh had a job he loved, friends, a home, but without Flynn, it was all pointless. Flynn was his everything. If Josh lost him…. He couldn’t go there; he just couldn’t. He sat down and stared at the phone, trying to breathe. Flynn, I love you. Please call me so I can remind you. The phone didn’t ring.
ANOTHER two days passed before Flynn called. “Sorry, babe, we’re in the middle of nowhere. No reception.”
Josh struggled to get his breathing under control. “You couldn’t have used a landline?”
“I didn’t have time during the day, and I swear, no phones in the rooms. We’re in this lodge thing, real rustic. Like, quilts on the beds and no TV either, not like I have time to watch it. It’s been like this all week. Gary got us booked in all these hotels in like Siberia, so we don’t get bugged by fans, and none of them have reception. We waste hours just driving back and forth to the venues. I’m so exhausted I can’t think straight.” He snorted. “I mean, I can’t think gay… and that’s really bad.” He laughed, sounding weary, but Josh was filled with doubt.
Was Flynn telling the truth? “Aren’t there any phones in the lobby? And none of the places you’ve stayed had phones in the rooms?” Josh knew he was nagging, but he couldn’t help it.
“Baby, why the third degree? Yeah, some places have phones, but by the time I get back to my room, I’m too tired to even get undressed, and I forget to call you. As for calling from the lobby, I don’t want to talk to you with other people around. It’s not the same like when it’s just us.”
He forgot to call? “You could have at least phoned to let me know you were okay.”
“Josh, don’t be like that. Your last message said to call ‘if I wanted to’, and you never called back. I mean, I just got your messages, and I called because I did want to, but still. It’s not like you’ve been calling off the hook. You could have called Gary if you were really worried.”
Like Josh would call the band’s manager to check up on his boyfriend. But it was time to back off. “I know. I’m sorry. I just miss you so much. I love you.”
“I miss you too, baby, and I love you too.” Flynn chuckled sleepily. “What are you wearing?”
ON THE day the marriage equality bill passed, Flynn’s phone rang and rang. Josh tried three times that night, and his boyfriend never once answered. Although Josh joined the rest of the volunteers in a big victory bash, his mood was subdued. He kept thinking about Flynn and what he was doing, who he was with, who he was doing….
“Stop. Just stop,” he said aloud. He knew Flynn and knew he was loyal; he wouldn’t cheat. Josh was sure of it. Really, he was. Really.
IT WAS another three weeks before Bugs Are Nervous returned to finish their tour at a local arena. Josh was waiting when Flynn stepped off the bus. He wanted to fly into his lover’s arms, but he wasn’t sure how he would be received. Flynn looked exhausted and disheveled, but he smiled, put his arms around Josh, and kissed him.
“I’m so glad I’m home. I’ve missed that hot ass.” Flynn punctuated his point by squeezing the cheeks in question.
Josh felt a lot better and grinned. “It’s missed you too. Let’s go home, and I’ll show you how much.”
Flynn drew back. “I’m so tired, babe; I’m going to have to take a rain check. All I want is a shower and a nap, not necessarily in that order. Shit, the others even want to get another rehearsal in tonight. We’ve got some new material we’re trying out at the show tomorrow.”
Josh tried to keep the disappointment off his face. “Sounds good. Let’s get you home.”
“Sorry, we’re staying in a hotel tonight. The house is too far away. The commute would take too long. I’m so sick of traveling.”
Josh couldn’t help the ache that centered in his stomach. “Am I going to see you before the show?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” At the words, Josh felt reassured. “You can stay at the hotel with me. We’ll be up late, though, which is why I need a nap. You might not get a lot of sleep. I’m not sure you want to come.
”
And like that, Josh’s relief was gone. “No, I better get home. I have to take care of Micro.”
“Micro…. Fuck, I’ve missed her. Okay, but I want you to come see me before the show, okay? I really need to see you before I go onstage. You’re my good luck charm.”
It wasn’t enough. Josh couldn’t keep the sadness out of his voice. “Okay.”
“Josh, please. It’s real important to me that you be there.”
“I said okay; I’ll be there.” He tried to sound more upbeat.
In a weird reverse echo of the last time they saw each other, Flynn asked, “Promise?”
Josh never broke a promise, ever, and Flynn knew that. “I promise.”
THE arena was fairly large. As a homegrown band, Bugs Are Nervous drew a big crowd. Mainstream stations played their music here, not just those featuring alternative rock. It was very affirming for the band, and they always ended their tours with a concert in town.
Josh took a taxi, and even though the opening band, Vegetarian Meat, was already starting, the streets were packed. By the time he made it backstage, that set was half-done. When Josh entered the dressing room, Flynn’s expression was a mask of stress, his body tight with tension, until he looked over and saw Josh. Then his face lit up as he strode over with a big grin. “You came!” He sounded like a little boy who had just been told Santa was coming this year after all.
“I—” Josh’s phone rang.
Flynn froze, his expression flat. The ringtone told Josh it was someone from work, probably Ian. He didn’t care. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, held it up between them, and ceremoniously turned it off. He stuck the phone back in his pocket.
“As I was saying—”
Flynn grabbed him in a bear hug. He kissed Josh on the neck and then whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”
Josh squeezed back. He hoped he had proven his point; Flynn came first, his work a distant third, after Micro, of course. He used to be sure he rated higher on his lover’s list, back before his boyfriend thought Josh’s priorities were messed up, but now he was unsure of how Flynn felt. He just hoped he hadn’t blown it and was still actually on his lover’s list at all.