His Two Leading Men

by Aidan Wayne

***

  Skye felt a lot better once he and Russell were back downstairs, away from the apartment and the mess Skye had made of it. He still felt the need to apologize, and would have to make sure Brent knew he was really sorry. He couldn’t believe he’d just… ruined everything like that. The food, the evening.

  Fuck, he was so dumb.

  Skye stayed quiet as he and Russell left the building. “Pizza still okay?” Russell asked.

  Skye blinked back tears. “Whatever you want,” he managed. Not that he’d be able to eat any of it.

  Russell just nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Pizza and salads.” He eyed Skye. “And milkshakes.”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  Skye wound himself up more and more as they waited for the food, and by the time they were heading back to Brent’s place, containers in hand, he was a wreck of anxiety and adrenaline. Russell tried to coax him into conversation and Skye did his best to respond, but he knew he was being a wet blanket. Fuck.

  “We’re back!” Russell called, as he unlocked Brent’s door. He’d given them both keys weeks ago.

  Brent wasn’t in the living room, but it was pristine again, all traces of the food cleaned up. Skye carefully set the food he was carrying down on the living room table and then leapt back, as if being near it would make another mess.

  “There you are,” Brent said, coming back into the living room. He’d changed into loose flannel bottoms and a stretched out t-shirt; the clothes he wore when he was “bumming around the house.”

  “I’m sorry,” Skye blurted again, the words thick in his mouth. “I’m really–I didn’t–”

  “Hey, hey,” Brent said, coming up to him and taking his hands. “I know you are. It’s okay. It’s all cleaned up. Pretty much never happened. And it was probably about time for me to do my own housework. I even knew where all my cleaning supplies were.” He smiled at Skye who tried to smile back, if only because Brent deserved it.

  Brent led Skye over to the couch, Russell sitting down on the other side so Skye was the the middle like he always was.

  “You wanna maybe talk a little about what happened?” Russell asked. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you do…”

  Skye swallowed and stared at the floor. “It’s nothing. Really. Um. Fischer and I used to date. He just caught me off guard, being there tonight. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?”

  Skye took a deep breath. “I… he wasn’t… we weren’t good for each other,” was all he was able to say. “So seeing him again wasn’t… great.”

  They both wrapped arms around him, pulled him into them. Brent pressed a kiss to his hair. “Okay,” he said. “Then let’s forget about him.”

  “Right,” Skye breathed. Yeah.”

  ***

  When Skye woke up in the middle of the night, it was to a tangle of limbs, Brent and Russell on either side of him. He was just the right amount of warm instead of it being suffocating, because Brent always kept his bedroom cool, for just this reason.

  I love them, he thought. I love them both so much.

  Chapter 13

  “Hey guys?” Brent and Russell both turned to look at him. They were all sitting together on Skye’s couch, watching Men in Black because Russell loved it, and though his stomach was doing flip-flops, it was something Skye felt the need to say, and say it right this minute. “I, I haven’t said it before but I hope you know that I love you both. A lot. And I really love that you’re with me, want to be with me and put up with my… quirks.” His cheeks flamed as they stared at him, mute. He pushed on. “And-and neither of you have to say it back of course, I don’t like, expect it or anything, that’s perfectly okay but I wanted to say it. Because I feel it and I’d like to start really being able to say it to you both, if it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable, but of course if it does make you uncomfortable I don’t have to–” why was he still talking and why weren’t they saying anything, the anxiety was “–so um, I…”

  “Skye,” Russell sounded hoarse. “I’ve been in love with you for months.”

  Skye’s panic stuttered to a stop. “You have?”

  Russell nodded. “Since before we started dating.”

  “You have?”

  He chuckled. “Hey, you don’t have to sound so surprised. There’s a lot of things about you to love.”

  “Oh.” Skye absolutely was not blinking back tears.

  “Hey, hey,” Russell took his hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I wasn’t expecting to hear it back.” He scrubbed at his face. “I love you so much.”

  Russell wiped underneath his eyes, kissed his forehead. “Me too.”

  They smiled goofily at each other until Russell looked over Skye’s shoulder and tilted his head in that direction. Skye’s eyes widened as he swung around to look at Brent, who hadn’t said a thing. He was looking at him, eyes wide and startled.

  “I…” Brent started, before stopping, looking at the floor. Normally so polished, it was unusual to see Brent floundering with his words. “I…”

  “It’s okay,” Skye said quickly. “If you can’t or don’t want to say it. You don’t have to–”

  “No, I… I’m really happy.” He said it quietly, as if shocked that he was able to say that at all. “... say it again?”

  “I love you.” Skye didn’t hesitate. “I love you so much, Brent.”

  “Can I kiss you?” Brent asked, voice raw. “Please.”

  Skye moved toward him, cupped his face, pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Again and again, until Brent was clutching at him, making desperate, needy sounds.

  “It’s okay,” Skye pulled back to murmur. “It’s okay.”

  Brent buried his face in Skye’s neck, shaking. Skye brought up his hands to pull him closer. “It’s okay,” he said petting Brent’s back. “And I’m happy too.”

  “I can’t–I don’t know if I can–can say it,” Brent gasped. “But I do. I do so much. So much, Skye.”

  Skye felt that as clear as anything. “I know.”

  They kept the movie paused and curled around each other, Brent still clinging to Skye, Russell threading his fingers through Skye’s free hand.

  ***

  Later, they laid Skye down and worshipped him, taking their time, paying attention to every inch of skin. He spent all his lucidity wondering what he’d done to deserve them both, how he’d gotten so lucky.

  The funny thing…

  The funny thing was that they both kept acting like they were the lucky ones.

  ***

  “Skye?” Brent murmured, as they were drifting off to sleep, tucked up against one another in Skye’s bed.

  “Mmhm?”

  “I…” his voice trailed off, and for a moment Skye wondered if he’d just fallen asleep, but then he shifted, opened his eyes to find Brent watching him in the darkness.

  “What is it?” Skye asked quietly.

  Brent sighed, reached to brush Skye’s hair back. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I can’t say it yet. I don’t know why I can’t. I do. I do, but I try and I–”

  “It’s okay. It’s really okay, Brent. You’ve made your feelings really clear. I know you do. Even if you can’t say it.”

  “Yet,” Brent said sternly. “Not yet.”

  Skye huffed a laugh. Brent was looking at him such a soft expression that Skye felt loved. Brent and Russell both, made him feel like that a lot. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Brent loved him back.

  “Go to sleep,” Skye said, before kissing him. “I’ll still love you in the morning.”

  “I… me too.”

  “‘Night.”

  “Good night, Skye.”

  ***

  Brent was busy working on some corporate takeover project the next several days, and he spent most of his free time apologizing to Skye for not being able to be around for him. Skye assured him that it was fine, he didn’t mind. Brent always sounded so tired when they talked. Skye didn’t want to add to his bu
rden.

  “I’ll still be here when you get a break,” he told him over the phone. “Let me know when you want me. I’ll be there.”

  “Skye–”

  “Love you.” He thrilled at being able to say it.

  And how much it flustered Brent. “Me… me too.”

  After a week though, Skye started to maybe get worried.

  “You don’t think he’s avoiding me?” He asked Linda, as they warmed up for that night’s show.

  “Why would he be?”

  “Because I… you know, because I said I loved him. He, uh, he couldn’t, you know, say it back. And I don’t mind! I don’t. But I’m worried that it’s really bothering him.”

  Linda moved into a different stretch. “That’s stupid,” she declared. “He’s obviously head over heels for you. He and Russell both–the goo-goo eyes you make at each other is sickening.”

  “I love you too, Linda.”

  “See? Lots of love going around.”

  Skye sighed.

  Linda glanced over at him. “Why don’t you ask Russell? He’s basically Brent’s other best friend.”

  “I don’t want to bother him about it,” Skye said. “It’s not Russell’s job to listen to me about Brent. I–I don’t think that’s fair.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  After a few seconds of Skye not being able to come up with an answer, Linda said, “Okay, I think you should maybe talk to Russell. If nothing else, he knows Brent too. Maybe he could shed some light about why the L-word might be freaking Brent out. If it even is. But it’s not.”

  “Maybe,” Skye allowed. “Thanks, Linda.”

  ***

  Skye chickened out asking Russell about it. Regardless of what Linda said, it felt weird to go to him over something so Brent-related. He got her logic; Russell was one of Brent’s best friends. But he didn’t think it was Russell’s job to deal with Skye worrying about Brent avoiding him.

  The only thing left for him to do in that case, however, was to just ask Brent himself. Which was just as daunting but, as the worry started affecting Skye more and more, more than necessary.

  Then, after the show and checking his phone, he saw he’d gotten a text from Brent. I think we need to talk.

  Oh no. No, no, no, no, no that never–that never meant something good. What was wrong? What had Skye done? Was it the L-word? Brent hadn’t seemed the same after Skye had said it that first time. Had it just built up and up and now the dam had burst? Had Skye ruined something... really special and important because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut?

  Skye collapsed against the wall, too preoccupied to keep holding himself up. Breathe he told himself. Just breathe. He needed to think clearly, and he couldn’t do that now, not with panic in his head and fear in his heart. If–if Brent wanted to stop seeing him, Skye couldn’t let him know he’d reacted this way, wouldn’t guilt him with that, but god, why had he had to–

  “Skye? Are you okay?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Someone get Russell!”

  Colors blurred in and out of his vision as he heard footsteps, and then a warm hand fell onto his shoulder, just a brush before it pulled away. Letting Skye know Russell was there without the touch Skye couldn’t handle when his thoughts were mixed up. “I got it guys, let’s give him some space.”

  Russell talked him through his panic attack, and after Skye’d reassured Lazar, Misha, and Linda that he was okay, he went with Russell as he hustled him into a side hall.

  Russell pulled him down so they were sitting next to each other on the floor, his arm curled around Skye’s back. “Okay,” he said. “What happened?”

  Skye fought the urge to say ‘nothing’ because he knew it wouldn’t help anything if he did. “Brent texted me,” he forced out. “He said that we needed to talk.”

  “About what?”

  Skye swallowed. “He didn’t say.”

  Russell’s expression darkened, and he pulled out his phone, hitting a speed-dial before Skye could ask what was going on.

  He was just close enough to hear, “Russell?” tinny through the phone speaker when Russell laid into–he had to be talking to Brent.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Did you actually text your boyfriend, the one who has extreme anxiety, that you ‘need to talk’ without any fucking context?” … “No, it was because he had a panic attack over it!” … “I know, but you can’t just–you need to think about that too.” Russell rubbed at his face and sighed. “Yeah. I know.” … “If he wants to, but I’ll tell him. Yeah. Hang on.”

  Russell turned to Skye. “Do you want to talk to him?”

  Skye only hesitated for a moment. “Yeah.” He held out his hand for Russell’s phone. “Hi Brent,” he said.

  “Skye, Skye I am so, so sorry I didn’t even think–and I should have, I’m so stupid, I can’t believe–I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Skye said quietly. “You’re not stupid. It’s not your fault.”

  “Skye…”

  “It’s okay,” he said again. “I just… wish you’d maybe also told me why you needed to talk. That’s all.”

  “I’ll know for next time,” Brent promised. “I swear.”

  Next time? There was going to be a next time? “You’re not breaking up with me?” Next to him, Russell stiffened up, tightening his arm around Skye.

  “Breaking up?” Brent said, shocked. “Why–I–no, no, of course not. I...” he sounded timid. “Did I do something to make you feel like I wanted to?”

  Skye swallowed. “That’s usually what ‘we need to talk’ means, doesn’t it?”

  “Skye, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I… I just wanted… I wanted to…”

  “Yeah?”

  “I wanted to sit down with you. Face to face. And–” Brent paused, the silence sharp and sudden. “And it’s not bad, I promise. I don’t think it is. I just–I–I can’t say it over the phone.”

  “Okay.” Skye was tired. Panic attacks drained a lot of energy. “Tonight?”

  Something must have come through in his voice because Brent said, “No, you must be exhausted. Tomorrow? Whenever you want. I’ll take off.”

  “You don’t have to–”

  “I want to. Please.”

  “Okay. Um.” The sooner he talked to Brent, the better. Get it off his mind, get whatever Brent wanted to say off his chest. “I guess–do you want to meet for breakfast or something?”

  “Yes. Sure. Where–?”

  “There’s a Panera on 5th.” And Skye had a go-to order. Easy, and not something he needed to think about. “Can we go there?”

  “Of course.”

  “Like ten-thirty?” He’d get up, go through his exercises, shower, and then head straight out. Another easy.

  “Ten-thirty is perfect,” Brent said. “I’ll–I’ll see you then?”

  “Okay. Um.” Was he allowed to say “I love you”? But it’d be more noticeable if he didn’t. And it still was true. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

  “I...” A quiet sigh. “Good night, Skye.”

  Skye hung up and handed the phone back to Russell, who pocketed it. “Is everything okay?”

  “I hope so,” Skye said, moving to stand. He held out a hand to Russell.

  Russell took it, standing up as well, and they started to make their way to the backstage door. “Do you mind if I spend the night?”

  Skye hadn’t wanted to ask. “I’d really like that.”

  ***

  Once he and Brent were seated at the Panera, tucked away into a little booth in the back, Skye looked at the food in front of him and then up at Brent. He didn’t pick up his fork; he felt too jittery to eat. “So,” he started. “You uh, you said we should talk.”

  “And I’m a fucking idiot,” Brent replied with a sigh. “Again, I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t think, and I should have.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Brent gave him a small smile. “Thank you for forgiving me.” He
cleared his throat. “And about what I wanted to say. I…” he sighed again. “My sister Gloria and I are really close. We kind of almost had to be. Remember my cultured upbringing?” Skye nodded. “Well. My parents were big into us knowing and doing things. Experiencing things. It was a good reflection on them that they had children who could paint and waltz and understand opera. They expected us to do well and… not doing well wasn’t an option.”

  He paused. Dropped his gaze to the table. “I once asked, when I was little–I’d just gotten straight As, won some sort of prize in school, something, and I asked why they never told me I’d done a good job. They always said what I did wrong or what I could do better, but never what I did right. And they said, ‘because doing the right thing is what you should be doing. You don’t deserve praise for that.’”

  Skye’s breath caught in his throat. Brent continued, “They’re that kind of people. And so I didn’t hear the word ‘love’ a lot growing up. As, ah, as applied to me or Gloria. Our parents didn’t say it to us, or to each other. So for me it’s… it’s a hard word to say. I spent a long time not really sure what it meant. And now I–I want to mean it. I think I would mean it. But I don’t...” he swallowed, glanced up at Skye and then looked away again. “You mean so much to me,” he said quietly. “What we have together. I hate that I can’t say it. It seems so simple and easy. And I want it to be. But I’ve got this stupid block and I don’t–”

  “What do you feel, when I say that I love you?” Skye asked.

  Brent startled. “What?”

  “When I tell you I love you,” Skye said again, fidgeting with his fork. “What do you feel?”

  “Grateful,” Brent said immediately. “And so happy. I–I care about you so much. Hearing you say those words make me so glad.”

  “Then that’s enough for me,” Skye said. “Because even if you can’t tell me, I know. You show me everyday how much you care about me. The words can be just words. And it can mean different things for different people. When I tell you I love you, it means that you make me happy and proud to know you, that I have you in my life, and that I want to keep spending time with you. And that there are a million little and big things about you that I like and care about and want to keep experiencing.” Skye reached across the table to take Brent’s hand. “You don’t have to say it back. I meant that when I said it. If it’s hard to say the words, don’t struggle to say them. Especially if they don’t mean what you want them to mean. Just know that when I say them, that’s how I mean them. Okay?”