by Lynn VanDorn
“I think it's probable,” Tyler said. “Why else would they have called Alicia specifically to make sure I was there for the reading?”
“Does it matter?”
“Alicia would tell me that it sure as shit doesn't matter. A role is a role, and it's not a terrible one. The script isn't awful.”
“You don't sound convinced.”
“Because I'm not.” Tyler bent his knees and wrapped his arms around them. “This whole acting thing is precarious. I know that. Very few people are successful. For the ones who are, your career might stretch on for years, or you might make a few movies and then fade into obscurity. I have this face, a certain ability to act, and a bit of charisma, but I'm nothing special. There are prettier faces, better actors, men with more charisma than I'd know what to do with. There are actors who are nicer and taller and pretty much anything you can think of. The one thing I have is this recent burst of fame, or notoriety, or whatever you want to call it. I've captured people's attention, and maybe I'm seen as sympathetic enough that more people will forgive me than revile me. Being gay in Hollywood has gone from something you used to hide at all costs to something you go on talk shows to discuss. It's… I hesitate to say popular, because that’s not correct, but that's almost what it feels like, and I don't like it.”
Josh went back to stroking Tyler’s hair. “Isn't that better than the opposite?” He was reminded again of his own high school and college experience. The way made easy for him by Ryan, and, ironically enough, all those girls Josh had loved to hate. No one ever questioned Ryan’s sexuality. Nothing he ever did was gay, not even dragging his best friend everywhere with him, and by extension, Josh hadn't been gay, either. At least never to his face, not where he or Ryan could hear it.
Tyler shrugged, his shoulders bumping into Josh’s leg. “I'm being objectified either way.”
“How can you become a famous actor and not be objectified? Or, hell, Tyler. You’ve done modeling, too. They dress you up and take pictures and stick them in a magazine for everyone to see. How is that not objectification?”
Tyler frowned. “It's not the same thing. It’s not about the model, it’s about the clothes. The clothes are being objectified, not me. And just like modeling isn't about me, but the clothes, I want to be successful for what I do rather than what I am. I want to be known as a good actor, not a good gay actor, but I've lost that choice. It's gone now forever. Alicia would say it doesn't matter, and she's probably right. She usually is. Maybe I'm just looking for excuses.”
“Excuses for what?”
“To not go,” Tyler said. “Excuses to stay here with you.”
Oh. That squeezed Josh’s heart until it ached. “No,” he said. It didn't matter how much he didn't want Tyler to leave, or how much he worried that distance would cause their very new and very fragile relationship to fray, then snap. He couldn't be responsible for Tyler giving up on his dream. Even if it was a potentially impossible dream. Even if it was a dream that Josh didn't fully understand.
“No?” Tyler said, sliding into a dangerous tone.
“Turn it down if you think it's going to be bad for your career, or if doing the role makes you uncomfortable, but don't turn it down for me. I'm not worth it. No one is worth that.”
“Shut up,” Tyler said.
“Excuse me?”
“I know you think you’re being helpful, but you're not, so stop. Shut your gorgeous mouth or use it for something more productive than lecturing me on how I should feel.”
That stung. He pulled his hand away from Tyler's head like it’d been burned. “That wasn't what I was trying to do.”
Tyler sat up. “I know. Your shining armor is showing again, and I should find it sweet. Part of me does find it sweet, and that part is pissing off the rest of me. I’m an adult, dammit. I don't need you telling me what to do for my own good. If I want to shove a stake in my career, I should be allowed to do so.”
“Not on my account.” There was no way in hell Josh could live with himself if he let Tyler sabotage his career just to be with him. It would taint their relationship forever.
“No, not on your account, you arrogant asshole. On my own fucking account. Why is this your decision? It's my life. And if I want you, in all your priggish glory, then I ought to be able to decide that for my own fucking self.”
“Tyler, that doesn't even make sense. How the hell did we get here? What am I saying? Every conversation with you is like this.”
Tyler turned his body so he was sitting on the couch facing Josh’s profile with his legs bent and held tightly. It was the position he always sat in when he was upset about something, although Josh had no clue what had set him off this time. The boy was nothing but a walking minefield.
Boy, his mind echoed, and the thought made him pause. Tyler wasn't a boy, and thinking of him that way wasn't helpful. Like he’d just said, he was an adult and deserved to be treated as such.
Josh took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and let it out. He looked at Tyler and saw his mouth was a thin line and his eyes were narrowed into slits. Josh had managed to piss him off royally not even an hour after his mother had destroyed the last of Tyler’s childhood illusions. Nice job there, Josh. Let's try this again and see if I can maybe keep my foot out of my supposedly gorgeous mouth this time. “What do you want from me, Tyler?” He fought, he thought successfully, to keep his tone neutral. He wanted honesty, not a confrontation.
Tyler was quiet for a long time. “I want you to listen to me. Let me tell you a story. It might even be true.”
Josh leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Okay. I'm listening.”
“Once upon a time in the kingdom of the North Shore there was a king and a queen who had three sons. The first son was the heir. The second son the spare. The third is always the unlucky one, have you ever noticed that? But he's the one the story is always about. He has trials to overcome and a princess to win. Or in his case, a prince, but the principle is the same.”
“Of course,” Josh said. “It can't always be princesses.”
“Not in this story, at any rate. So, the first son had a friend. A page boy who followed him around everywhere like a devoted hound.”
“Hey,” Josh protested.
“Hush. This is my story and I'll tell it how I want. As the boys aged, the first son grew tired of the page boy and sent him away.”
Josh’s eyes flew open and he turned his head to frown at Tyler. “That’s not how it happened.”
Tyler laid his finger across Josh’s lips. “Stop interrupting. The page boy took his banishment in stride and ended up becoming a successful healer, just like the second son. As for the third son, he had many trials, which he overcame, and many adventures, in which he was daring and brave and strong and true, just like all third sons are meant to be. But there was one thing missing. In all that time, he had not come across his true love. There were a few princes who tried to be that, but they were never quite right. Their feet never fit in that metaphorical glass slipper.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. Glass slipper?”
“I did say it was a metaphorical glass slipper. Gah. Stop being difficult.”
Josh forced his face into a scowl, which was hard because it wanted to smile. “Shouldn't it be a metaphorical glass loafer instead?”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy. Where the hell was I? Oh, yeah. The third son and his quest to find someone to fit into the loafer. The metaphorical loafer. There was no real, and I can't stress this enough, glass footwear of any kind.”
“Okay, got it.”
“Fantastic. So, the third son, after many years spent abroad, returned home for the wedding of one of his brothers. And while he was going through yet another trial, or maybe an adventure, he came across someone he'd known before. The page boy, only now he was all grown up. He gallantly agreed to help the third son with his current adventure, or trial, and soon the third son wondered if maybe the former page boy might
fit that glass loafer. Which did not really exist because it's a fucking metaphor and don't even start with me, Josh.”
“I didn't say a word.”
“I could hear you thinking it,” Tyler said. “And had there been an actual glass loafer, it would’ve fit the former page boy perfectly because the former page boy was practically perfect in every way for the third son.”
“Tyler…”
“Shh. I'm still not done. At some point during the adventure the former page boy fell in love with the third son after realizing he was no longer in love with the heir. Right?” Tyler’s voice wobbled a little at the end.
“Yes,” Josh agreed. He looked into Tyler’s uncertain eyes. “The former page boy finally grew up. It took being around the third son to make him realize that he had grown out of what he’d felt for the heir. It was something that no longer fit him. If we’re still talking footwear, the shoe would have pinched in the toes and rubbed a blister on his heel. That shoe was now too small for the former page boy.”
“Really?” Tyler asked, the expression on his face making Josh’s heart lurch in his chest.
“Without a doubt.”
“Oh. That’s… I mean, the third son knew that, of course, but he was relieved the former page boy had figured it out, too.” Then Tyler's face fell a little. “Only the third son’s life had changed him so that he could no longer live in the kingdom of the North Shore. At the same time, the former page boy had built a life, a good life, there and had no desire to live anywhere else. One couldn't stay and one wouldn't leave. So, do you know what they did?”
“Nope,” Josh said.
“Me, neither,” said Tyler. “That’s the problem. I don't know what to do.”
Neither did Josh, and that bothered him. “I don't like the way your story ends. It needs work. And I have a question.”
“Only one?” Tyler asked, one eyebrow predictably raised.
“If the glass loafer is merely metaphorical, then how do you know that it would be a perfect fit for the former page boy?”
“Isn't it obvious?”
“Should it be?”
Tyler looked annoyed. “Christ, Rosen, how much more plain do I have to be? I take it all back. You are hopeless.”
“I need you to say it, Tyler.”
“Why?”
Josh pried Tyler’s hands free from the death grip they had on his bent knees, then he pulled Tyler’s feet onto his lap. He started to rub one of them. “Because it's important to me.”
“That feels amazing.” Tyler shivered. “Keep doing that and I will be your slave forever.”
“Just answer the question, Tyler.”
Tyler moaned with pleasure. “What question?”
“Now who’s being difficult?”
“I’m always difficult. You should know that by now, page boy.”
“Former page boy,” Josh corrected. He started to rub the other foot. “Stop dodging. You should've gone into politics instead of acting.”
“Okay, fine. The shoe fit because it was his shoe the whole fucking time,” Tyler mumbled.
Josh stopped rubbing Tyler’s feet. “It was his shoe?”
Tyler wiggled the foot in Josh’s hand. “Keep rubbing. Yes, dammit. It was his shoe. Your shoe, I mean.”
“Mine?” It seemed impossible to believe. “What do you mean it was mine the whole time? Plain English, please. No more fairy tales.”
Tyler groaned. He started to pull his legs back, but Josh grabbed them and held on. “Nope,” Josh said. “No pulling back, no curling up, no dodging. Explain, Tyler. Now.”
“I… you…” Tyler flopped backward, and it was a good thing the couch was long because otherwise he'd have hit his head on the arm. As it was, his head barely cleared it. “I might’ve had a crush on you once upon a time. And I might have measured every man I've ever been with my whole life against you. You might be the Tyler Chadwick gold standard.” He covered his face with his hands. “God. I can't believe I just told you that. How do you do that? I never tell anyone anything, but you make me spill everything. It's not right. It's downright unnatural.”
“You had a crush on me?”
“Oh, man, such a crush. In retrospect, it's cringeworthy. I was this little wannabe baby twink dying to seduce you, and you, meanwhile, were completely oblivious. Which, now that I think about it, was a good thing.”
“Just how old were you when this crush started, Tyler?”
Tyler’s feet drummed against his leg. “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?”
Probably not, but he was dying of curiosity. “Yes?” he said, and it came out like a question.
“Promise you won't freak out?” Tyler removed his hands from his face and blinked up at Josh, giving him huge, pleading eyes that didn't fool Josh for a second.
“Please tell me you were at least a teenager, Tyler.”
“Um… technically, yes.”
“Define technically.” He should stop probing, but not asking was impossible, like ignoring a sore in your mouth.
“I was thirteen.”
Josh winced. “That would have made me—”
“Don't think about it too hard, okay? It’ll only give you a headache. This is why I didn't mean to tell you. It's all creepy and weird, knowing that your ex’s teenaged brother was plotting to seduce you into taking his virginity. Stop looking at me like that. It's not like I succeeded. You’d have remembered. I am memorable as fuck.”
“Great. Now I have this vision of mini you trying to get in my pants. I could've gone my entire life without that image. Wait a second. Tyler, you tried it at one of the summer picnics, didn't you? I remember now! You kept trying to get me to go off with you and I had no idea why. And it turns out you wanted me to fuck you in the botanic gardens. Ugh. I think I need a shower now.”
Tyler kicked him, but carefully. “Stop being so dramatic. That's my job. Josh, my virginity was never in danger from you. Even if Brad hadn't intervened, you'd have never done anything with me. You were still too hung up on Ryan back then, not to mention too inherently decent to do anything with a teenager.”
“In the great outdoors, no less. What were you thinking?”
“I was sixteen, duh. My dick was doing most of my thinking. If it makes you feel any better, I lost my virginity to someone approximately my own age a few months later.”
“Approximately?”
“He was a freshman at UIC. Stop being so fucking squeamish. You had your cherry popped in high school, too.”
“I am not discussing losing my virginity with you, Tyler.”
“Just as well, since I already know who you lost it to. Right, then. So. That's all settled.” He started to swing his legs off Josh’s lap and again was stopped.
“No,” Josh said. “Not a damn thing is settled. Tyler, if you stayed here, what would you do?”
Tyler stilled. “I'm not sure. I have a degree in theater. I could probably get a job at Starbucks.”
“No, be serious for a moment.”
“I am serious,” Tyler said, sounding anything but.
“So am I. Have you considered actual theater? I know it's not like being in a movie, but it's still acting. There are a million theaters in Chicago. Well, hundreds, at least.”
Tyler thought about it. “I did some theater work in college. High school, too, although I'm not sure if that should count. This thing I have…” he went from looking tired and a little worn at the edges to compelling. The shadows under his eyes made him look interesting rather than exhausted. He almost seemed to glow from within. Then it stopped, like Tyler had flipped a switch and turned off some sort of internal lamp. He went back to looking pale and drained. “That’s really hard to do effectively on stage. It takes too much out of me. But on camera, it's so much easier, and I don't have to do it night after night after night. Some people get off on that shit. I don't think I'm one of them.”
Josh nodded, still a little dazed. “Okay. Ty, I can't say that I understand, because
that thing you do still kinda weirds me out a little. But if it shows up better on film than in front of an audience, then I think you should take the part in the movie. I know it's your decision, and this is just my opinion. Feel free to ignore me, but regardless of why it was offered, I think you should take the part. If you don't, all your adventures might be over, and I don't think you're ready for that.” He scooted sideways on the couch, moving so he could pull Tyler onto his lap.
“I hate it when you hold me like this,” Tyler groused, but he laid his head on Josh’s shoulder anyway.
“Liar, you love it. And me, too, apparently.”
“Apparently, but this isn't comfortable and I'm going to make your legs go numb. I know you like to pretend that I'm tiny, but I'm not.”
Josh shook his head. “God, you’re a pain in the ass. I want to hold you, so do whatever you need to do to get comfortable, and prepare to be held.”
Tyler moved so he sat beside Josh instead of on him. He lifted Josh’s arm and snuggled into his side. “How's this?”
“Perfect,” Josh said, and it was.
“Good.” Tyler yawned. “Josh, if I accept the part, I'll have to leave. I've gotten used to you. My cat has gotten used to you. Who will pester me to eat a sandwich? Who will hog the bed? Who will explain art to me in museums and compare me to beautiful statues? Who will talk you down when you start steam cleaning the curtains because you're stressed out? Who will take you to lunch at work? Who will you hold at night? Hint: if the answer to that last one is anyone but me I might get violent.”
“You were always going to leave. We both knew that. But this kingdom has an airport, and phones, and Skype. The former page boy has a lot of vacation time saved up. We’ll figure it out, I promise. Somehow.”
Tyler sighed and didn't reply for a long time. When he did speak, it wasn’t to say anything Josh expected.
“Why can't I let him go?”
Josh opened his mouth to say, “Who?” then closed it. There was only one “he” Tyler could be referring to. “Your father? Mr. Chadwick?” Even after all these years he couldn't think of the man as Peter.