by Jerry Cole
“Yeah,” Carl agreed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m far more annoyed that you decided to do this here than he is. But fuck, man. Couldn’t you have told us? We’re your friends. We would always support you.”
Bjorn opened his mouth to reply. “I—”
“I mean, we support the fact that you’re gay or whatever,” Carl said. “We don’t support the fact that you decided to keep this from us. That’s really not cool.”
“There’s nothing to keep from you,” Bjorn finally said. “I think that’s what you guys are not understanding. I wasn’t—I’m not—”
“It’s okay if you’re gay, Bjorn,” Pink said, clapping his hand on his shoulder. Bjorn wasn’t sure if he had heard him right. If he had, it was the first time that Pink had used his real name. It was the first time any of them had used his real name. He appreciated the thought, but he didn’t like that they all seemed to be jumping to the same conclusion. One that Bjorn was sure that he had yet to arrive at, that he wasn’t sure he was even going to arrive at all.
“I’m not,” Bjorn said. “I mean, maybe. I don’t know. Guys, I don’t fucking know what’s going on, okay? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think that there was anything to tell.”
Now it was him who was pacing around, playing around with his fingers nervously as he walked circles around the room.
“Well,” Pink said. “You told me that he had hit on you.”
“Right,” Bjorn said, nodding. “And I told you that I didn’t know what I thought about it.”
“I mean, you also told me that you thought something about it,” Pink said. “And I asked you—”
“To hold off on it, I know,” Bjorn said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I remember. I was there.”
“As much as I support you, don’t you think that maybe you could have kept your word? It wouldn’t have hurt, you know.”
“Pink,” Bjorn said, turning to face him. “I didn’t mean to break my word. I seriously just went outside to get some candy. He was there, we started to talk, and we ended up on a bench outside where we fell asleep together. Nothing else happened.”
“But that’s a thing, right?” Carpenter said from behind him. “We can all agree that isn’t a little thing, and it’s, you know, a big deal.”
“Okay, yes,” Bjorn replied, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I admit that it’s not necessarily a small deal, but it wasn’t as though I meant for anything to happen. I didn’t know him from before, and I’m still, I don’t know, pretty clueless about him. I know more things now, but it wasn’t as though we were fraternizing or anything.”
“I think cuddling counts as fraternizing,” Carl said dryly.
“Right,” Bjorn replied. “That’s not what I meant. I meant before this, we weren’t fraternizing. I knew who he was but he had no fucking idea about me until that party.”
“Where you guys hooked up,” Carpenter said.
“What? No! We didn’t hook up,” Bjorn almost shouted. He wasn’t sure whether to feel outraged or just surprised, but whatever it was that he was supposed to feel, the one thing that he was certain of was that he didn’t like it.
Carpenter shook his head. “Look, I believe you,” he said. “I think all of us in the room believe you. Despite all that, this is a big problem. This could affect our sponsorships and, if words gets around that you hooked up with him before our first win, we could be disqualified. Has he been teaching you things?”
“No!” Bjorn screamed. This time, it was a full, frustrated shout. He hadn’t intended to get angry, but things were getting tricky now, and he didn’t like that everyone on the team was blaming him. Not that he could blame them, really. He hated that he understood why they were all so paranoid. “He hasn’t been teaching me things. We’ve hung out twice! That’s it! We haven’t even talked about World of Heroes that much. It’s just a random interest we have in common.”
“Right, a random interest that you have in common that could lead to either one of you earning a cool million,” Carl said. “Seems totally random to me.”
Carpenter cocked his head, grinning. “You said he’s not teaching you things. Do you mean he’s not teaching you things in regard to World of Heroes? Because if he’s teaching you other things, that’s like, totally fine.”
Pink laughed. “When would they have had a chance to get on a computer anyway?”
“Do they need a chance to get on a computer? They could have just talked about it,” Carl said. “I mean, if it had been anyone else, fair enough. Al would probably need a demonstration. But we’re talking about the best World of Heroes player in the world; you guys know this. He’s the one that has earned more money out of anyone else in this hotel. Other than the developers, he’s the person that’s earned the most money in the world from World of Heroes. Don’t you guys think that he’s going to know a few tips and tricks? Maybe a few tips and tricks that he wouldn’t even mind sharing with his up-and-coming boyfriend, especially if his boyfriend is someone who is participating in the tournament for the first time.”
“Right,” Carpenter said. “And that loses us so much good will, it isn’t even funny.”
“What could he have possibly said to me? We both know how the game works,” Bjorn spat back. “Yeah, he’s better than me, because he’s more experienced. But scrimmage is normal. That’s how pros get better.”
“Yeah, scrimmage is normal,” Carl quickly replied. “With other pro-teams. Everyone knows that. But if no one knows when this started, don’t you think people are going to believe that he’s the one that got you in here in the first place?”
“Right,” Pink said. “Like he was grooming you or something.”
“That just sounds like he was my mentor,” Bjorn replied thinly.
“Which would be fine, if people had known about it,” Carpenter spat back. “You know how the World of Heroes community feels about secrets. If they think you’re a ringer, if they think Mickey is a cheat, then we’re all fucked.”
“Yep,” Pink said. “Which is the reason why I asked you to hold off in the first place.”
“Guys,” Bjorn said, waving his hands in front of his face. “I’m not a ringer. I’m only as experienced as you guys are. You know that.”
Carpenter shook his head. “We know that, but you’re hanging out with Atlanta. You’re cuddling up to him. I mean, that’s a bit fast. Who’s to say you didn’t already know him? You have us to back you up, but we’re your teammates.”
“Look,” Bjorn replied, sighing. “As much as I love hearing all of your wild theories, they are moot. Mickey isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just someone I barely know. Yes, something happened last night; I know that it was something and I’m sorry about it. I mean, I don’t even fucking know what happened, but it happened. Nothing else, though. We didn’t even kiss, we—we just fell asleep together. That’s literally it.”
“There’s nothing else you need to tell us? Are you sure?” Pink said. “Because look, we’re not mad. We’re not going to be mad, no matter what you tell us.”
“Yeah, I know that,” Bjorn said. “I know that you guys, in your own weird way, are being really supportive right now. Here’s something else I know. We need to contain this situation, because it’s already out of hand, and the last thing I want to do is affect the team in any negative way. I’m here to win, guys. I know how much we’ve all sacrificed, and I wouldn’t want you to feel like that was for nothing. I can’t take back what I did, I’m like, super aware of that. But I also don’t know how I’m supposed to fix it, so if you guys have any ideas, they’re more than welcome. Seriously, I’m all ears.”
“Nice, Al,” Carl said. “So you want us to clean up your mess?”
“Not exactly,” Bjorn said. “I just want you to help me clean it up so that there are no loose ends. Like I said, the last thing I want to do is affect the team negatively. But we’re still a team, and I could do with your help. So the floor is open, right? Any idea is a good idea
.”
“Don’t fuck the competition,” Carl said, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least not until we’re done with the goddamn tournament. Then feel free to fuck whoever.”
Bjorn could feel himself blush. “I don’t want to fuck—”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Carl said.
Carpenter cleared his throat. “Okay, I have an idea,” he said. “But it requires that you talk to, um, Atlanta. And that things are kept kind of hush-hush.”
“I have a feeling Mickey knows how to keep things on the down-low,” Bjorn replied. “At least, that was the impression he gave me.”
“It’s so cute when you call him Mickey,” Pink interjected.
“This isn’t a joke,” Carl reprimanded him. Then he smiled. “Though, yeah, it’s pretty cute.”
Bjorn didn’t really want to talk about that, so he turned to Carpenter. “Are you going to tell me what your idea is, or what?”
“Yeah,” he said, then he smiled at him. “I think it’s kind of brilliant, actually.”
Chapter Thirteen
Carpenter hadn’t been wrong; his idea was brilliant. It was also stupidly simple, and it would only take a few clicks of his fingers to implement. But the moment Bjorn had heard the words come out of Carpenter’s mouth, his heart had dropped. He had said that he would do what Carpenter told him, provided that he could speak to Mickey about it before. The rest of the team wasn’t quite so keen on letting him speak to Mickey before they worked things out between them, especially because it could undermine their credibility even more, but Bjorn promised that he would be discreet. Well, more discreet. He told them that he would just go up to Mickey’s room and talk to him for a second, and that if Mickey wasn’t there, he would go downstairs and carry out the same plan.
He just really wished that he didn’t have to. He sighed as he lifted his hand up to knock on Mickey’s door. Mickey and his three teammates; Syn, Sweet and Prophet, were some of the only people that got individual suites. Of course, these suites were up on the very top floor, and they were probably the nicest ones in the entire hotel. Bjorn was curious about what they looked like; he just wished he didn’t have to find out under these circumstances. He was also expected in the arena in less than half an hour, so he needed to make sure that this was over with quickly. His knock was weak and cautious, though. He really didn’t want Mickey to answer, even if that meant he was going to be late. They would allow him some time before disqualifying him.
As soon as the word popped into his head, Bjorn went pale. Disqualifying him over what? Over speaking to Mickey? Over spending his time explaining to Mickey that he was doing exactly what he needed to do to make sure that he could secure a future for his team? Mickey had been right—Bjorn didn’t owe him anything. He turned around and started to walk away when the door finally creaked behind him.
Mickey was standing in front of it, looking like Bjorn had never seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes and his black hair was a mess, which was clearly not intentional. Mickey wore his curls a certain way, wore his designer clothes a certain way, made sure that he presented himself a certain way. Bjorn had suspected that, but he hadn’t been fully aware of that fact until Mickey was standing right in front of him, looking like all his defenses were down.
Mickey sighed. He could clearly see that Bjorn was appraising him. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Mickey spoke first. “I wish you had called.”
“I’m sorry,” Bjorn said. “We need to talk.”
“I know,” Mickey replied. “I still wish you had called.”
“I don’t have your phone number,” Bjorn replied quietly. He wondered if Mickey would take the opportunity to ask him for it. He knew that it didn’t matter, anyway; Mickey was right. He could have emailed him, or he could have sent him a private message through Twitter, or something. Mickey would have seen it. Bjorn knew that, and so did Mickey. He didn’t want to tell Mickey that he had to do this unannounced, mostly because he wasn’t sure that he would have been able to do it if he had spoken to him beforehand. He didn’t want to think about the fact that what he was going to do was going to affect Mickey. He didn’t know how much it would affect him, though; Mickey was a professional, and Bjorn was already making assumptions. He just knew that he didn’t want to upset him. He didn’t want to know what would happen to him if he ended up upsetting Mickey. Bjorn didn’t know if he was going to be able to deal with that on top of everything else that was already happening.
“Okay,” Mickey finally said. He stepped aside, as if to let him in, but he didn’t say anything. “Just so you know, Syn is here.”
“I was hoping we could talk in private,” Bjorn replied, his voice sounding meeker than he’d intended.
“Don’t get me wrong, Bjorn, but I’m guessing this is business,” Mickey said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And if that’s the case, then I would rather Syn be here. He’s not just my teammate; he’s my business associate.”
Bjorn’s gaze darted between Mickey and Syn. Syn was smaller than Mickey, thinner, darker. He had chestnut brown hair that he kept trimmed right above his ears. He looked much younger than he was, and Bjorn remembered being surprised that someone that looked that young and inexperienced was with the best team in the world. But there he was, sitting on Mickey’s bed. The entire thing, their entire friendship, looked totally incongruous. If this were any other time, Bjorn would have asked about it. But it wasn’t any other time, and he was there about business. The fact that it had something to do with their personal lives had been more his fault than anything else, but that still didn’t make it any less business. The livelihood of four people, including his own, were resting on his shoulders. He couldn’t just take that for granted. He had to do something. His teammates were expecting him to do something, and if he didn’t, that said more about his character than he liked.
“This is an issue,” Bjorn finally said. He wanted to open his mouth and explain all the ways in which it was an issue, including the ways that it was personally affecting him, but he couldn’t. He hardly could in front of Mickey, someone that he felt like he barely knew, and he definitely couldn’t do it in front of Syn.
“Agreed,” Syn said. “This is an issue. It’s more of an issue for you guys than us, but it’s definitely an issue. For now, I think it’s best if you guys stop seeing each other. Unless you’re going to make it, like, you know, formal.”
Bjorn jerked his head toward Syn so fast that he was pretty sure he had hurt his neck. “We’re not seeing each other,” he said, far too fast, far too loudly.
Mickey looked at him for a second, exhaled loudly from his nose and turned to Syn. “See? I told you. We’re not seeing each other, like he said. This kind of thing has been blown way out of proportion. Our team is never going to be affected by this.”
“Right, but his team might be,” Syn replied. “Which is the last thing we want. We don’t want anyone to think we’re fucking around with them.”
“We’re not,” Mickey said, clearing his throat. “We’re not doing anything with them. I’m not even doing anything with him.”
“Right,” Syn replied. “I know that, and you guys know that, but it’s clear that the public doesn’t know it.”
“Yeah,” Bjorn said, seeing the perfect opportunity to jump in. “And I get that, for you guys, it may not be a big deal at all. But my team can’t afford this type of publicity, especially when we’re just starting out. If people think I’m a ringer…”
Mickey looked him up and down, his top lip curling. Bjorn wasn’t sure, but he thought that, for the first time since he had met him, Mickey might be angry. He walked up to Bjorn, his green eyes sparkling. “So do you have any ideas?”
“Well, my teammate Carpenter may have come up with something that will work,” Bjorn replied. “But I really wanted to run it by you first.”
“Are you going to tell us what it is or—”
Bjorn looked at Syn, who had just sp
oken. Part of him wished that he wasn’t there, because then he would be able to talk to Mickey by himself. He would be able to tell him everything that he felt, everything that he felt personally, not as a gamer, not as a teammate, not as an aspiring pro. Just as a person. As a person that hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him ever since they had first met… his thoughts were interrupted by Mickey, who was glaring at him.
“He’s going to tell us,” Mickey said. “Aren’t you, Bjorn?”
“Yes,” Bjorn replied. “So my friend thinks that the best thing is to play into it, if that makes sense. So we could, like, pretend that we did it on purpose. Then we could keep flirting, you know, every time we’re together on stage or whatever. We could make it so that it was a gag or something. That would make it easy to digest for everyone, the sponsors wouldn’t get mad about it, and you guys would be in the clear.”
He waited for a few seconds as he watched Syn and Mickey exchange a glance. Mickey was about to open his mouth, or at least that was what it looked like, but Syn spoke first. “You gotta admit, mate. That’s kind of brilliant.”
Mickey scoffed. “Right. It is,” he said. He sat down on the edge of the bed and put his hands on his knees. He looked at Bjorn and raised his eyebrows. “Is there anything else?”
“What? No,” Bjorn replied, looking around him.
Mickey stared at him for a while. Syn’s gaze was glued to Mickey’s face, and he said nothing. He did nothing. He just sat there, next to Mickey, near Bjorn. Neither one of them said anything for long enough that Bjorn started to feel uncomfortable. He looked between them and cleared his throat. “Okay, well, I guess I better go.”
“Yeah,” Mickey said, his arms still crossed over his chest. Bjorn turned on his heels and walked away, wondering if he could say anything to Mickey that would make him be less mad. He didn’t understand why he was even upset about it, but he could feel it in his heart and all over his body. As if it was a cold. He could feel it in his blood, whatever it was. He finally got the end of the hallway, to the elevator, and waited. He didn’t realize that he hadn’t even pushed a button until the elevator beeped, and people spilled out of it.