Chapter Three
Henry
It didn’t occur to me until I walked through my front door that I hadn’t thought about my work once during the drive home.
Usually, I would obsess over all the things I still had left to do or create a plan of attack for the following workday. This time, however, my mind drifted to other things.
Other people .
It wasn’t a surprise that Blue had captivated me tonight. Hell, he’d transfixed me for months now. But hearing his warm voice directed at me for once was intoxicating.
What wasn’t welcome was the asshat who assaulted him.
My blood boiled at the thought that it had happened, but I raged even more when I recalled Blue’s defeated shrug after it had happened.
Travis didn’t say or do anything I hadn’t heard or experienced before.
My fists curled in fury that the reaction Blue gave meant he’d been the victim of this sort of thing so often that he was used to it. Combined with the knowledge that he’d chosen his own name , it made me believe he hadn’t had the best childhood.
My childhood hadn’t been great at school, but that had more to do with my quiet, introverted nature than anything else. I’d been the target of attacks at school after I came out, but my twin brother, Daniel, protected me from the worst of it. Bullies knew I wouldn’t fight back, but he definitely would, so they kept their cruel taunts and jabs to when I was alone.
I knew Daniel always had my back, but it wasn’t only him. I had no doubt that I could always rely on anyone in my family.
My parents had always been there and had always been supportive of their kids. Raising four very different boys meant they’d learned to roll with the drama a lot easier and better than the horror stories I’d heard from gay and bi friends in the past. In contrast to those terrible experiences, my parents barely batted an eye when both Daniel and I came out to them when we were sixteen.
Whenever I heard of someone enduring a troubled childhood, my heart broke for them, wishing that they could have had parents or families like mine when they were growing up.
Who had hurt Blue so badly that what happened tonight was the norm for him?
My protective instincts kicked into overdrive. So often there was nothing I could do to help, but something niggled in the back of my mind that this time… this time might be different.
A loud meow sounded as I was taking my shoes off at the front door, alerting me to the fact that Sir Cattus knew of my return.
Sure enough, my mostly white rag-doll cat waltzed into the lounge area from whichever bedroom he’d been lording over whilst I was at work, the tip of his tail twitching high in the air with every footstep. He paused, glared at me for a moment with the piercing blue eyes that had made me adopt him in the first place, then headed to his food bowls like he always did when I got home.
“And a hello to you too, Sir Cattus,” I said to his butthole as it waved at me while he sauntered away. “I don’t know why you insist on telling me you need food when the dispenser works just fine.”
He didn’t deign to respond to me and just kept walking.
I shrugged. I knew the automatic dispenser worked because I’d designed and built it myself. It had been a neat little distraction for me after I got Sir Cattus four years ago. Admittedly, there had been a couple of months where I needed to work out some mechanical issues, but it had been working perfectly and as designed for years now. It eased my guilt knowing that if I got caught in one of my work spirals and lost track of time, Sir Cattus always had enough food and water waiting for him.
Once my shoes were off, I headed into the kitchen to pop a ready-to-go meal into the microwave. As expected, Sir Cattus wound around my ankles while I waited for the machine to ding, hoping that I would take pity on him and give him a treat or something. Instead, he had to remain content with several pats to the head and a scratch on his rump that made him wiggle.
Once my food was sufficiently vibrated enough to consume, I headed back to the sofa and turned on the TV, flicking through YouTube until I found one of my favorite science channels that I hadn’t looked at for a while. I sat back, kicked my feet up on the coffee table, and settled into a catch-up session while I enjoyed my meal.
Twenty minutes later, the backyard squirrel maze video had ended, and Sir Cattus was curled up on my lap purring up a storm while I scratched his ears. Considering that he wasn’t the only one that was warm and comfortable, I navigated back to the channel listing and slowly scrolled back through their recent uploads.
I didn’t have to scroll very far before the word glitter stopped me.
Frowning, I clicked on the video to watch it. I had vague memories of seeing it when it was first uploaded a couple of years ago, but hadn’t thought about it since.
Within minutes, I’d shuffled a disgruntled Sir Cattus off to my side and was leaning forward with my elbows on my knees, making mental notes of what the host was doing.
When the video finished, I immediately went looking for the previous iteration of the experiment and sat through that one too, my mind whirring with possibilities. Once that video had finished, I was convinced that I might well be onto something.
I was mentally turning things over and around like I usually did when a new puzzle presented itself to me as I got up, dumped my plate in the kitchen, and went to find my latest sketchpad. Once I had everything I needed, I went back to the lounge, sat on the floor in front of the sofa, laid my stationery on the coffee table. and restarted the videos. Every so often I would pause the video, make notes of what I needed, then rewind to let it play out again. Occasionally, I’d get up and walk around the room, letting the mechanics run through my mind while I let my hands mimic what I’d need to do to make my idea work.
Before I knew it, hours had passed, and my sketchpad was filling up fast. Sir Cattus was off on his nightly zoomies, skittering around the living room enough that it eventually roused me from my hyper-focus.
Rubbing at my eyes, I checked the time on my phone and realized it was just past two in the morning. No wonder I was tired. I yawned and set my sketchpad down, squinting at it to see if there was anything that was obviously wrong with my plans. It looked like it would work, but I wouldn’t know for sure until I started modeling it in CAD.
I reasoned that working on a new 3D model schematic would be best left until after I’d slept, so I made my nightly rounds, checking to make sure that Sir Cattus had enough food and water in his dispenser for at least the next twenty-four hours.
I’d need to visit the electronics store once I had the concept nutted out a bit more. A lot of it would hinge on Blue, so I’d have to find him on Monday during lunch. I kicked myself that I hadn’t asked for his contact details so I could message him for what I needed, but I reasoned that a day or two wouldn’t make too much difference.
Once I’d showered and brushed my teeth, I lay in bed swiping through what few social media accounts I looked at. Most of the ones I followed were engineering and science focused, and I liked to check in on them at least once a fortnight or so, just in case any new or interesting discoveries had been made.
Idly, I wondered if I’d be able to find Blue’s Instagram account. I cast my memory back to see if my tired brain could remember what his account name was. Something that had Blue in it, but nothing was ringing any bells.
I started searching for makeup images and hashtags, then narrowed my search parameters down to the location, figuring that at least one of his posts might have been geo-located. It took a bit of searching before I stumbled on a repost from a makeup tutorial blog.
Finally, I’d found his account: love_me_blue_
I smiled at the pun, wondering if maybe he was a Beatles fan.
There were hundreds of posts in his feed, many of which were multiple images. Most of the pictures were of his makeup, but there were a few random images of what looked like his nights out. The further back I scrolled, the more people he was surrounded by. In quite a few pictures, I noticed his friend from work that he sat with during lunch.
Once I found a college graduation image, I realized I didn’t know how old he was. I grimaced as it suddenly dawned on me I was creeping on someone much younger than me. Would it be weird if I looked to see what the date was on this pic? Probably, but it wouldn’t stop my rampant curiosity, so I checked, then did some mental calculations.
Huh. It seemed like he wasn’t as young as I thought he might have been. Unless he graduated early, then my estimate would be off. One more thing I’d need to ask him about, if I ever got the chance to talk to him casually, that was.
Reversing my swiping, I scrolled back up to the top of his feed, noting again how many fewer people surrounded him in the current party shots compared to the older ones. He was always smiling in the images, but the closer I got to the top of his feed, the more forced the smiles became and the more sadness bloomed in his eyes.
A pang of concern unrelated to what had happened to him tonight ran through me. What was making him sad? And was there anything I could do for his smile to return to the carefree, cheeky grin it was in the older posts?
His feed refreshed, and a new image appeared.
There he was, the white feathers he was wearing tonight stark against what looked like an infestation of pinkish hydrangeas, his elbow cocked to the side, his fingers brushing his blue and purple hair back from his forehead.
The pearls he’d stuck to his cheeks were all still there, as were the string of pearls around his neck. He’d gained what looked like a sash of white lace from somewhere during the night, and it was draped over his torso, covering his pale skin.
He was not alone, as someone else had obviously taken the picture, but his smile was missing.
I ran my finger along the defined jawline and down the elastic strap that held his wings to his shoulder, wondering if what had happened tonight with Travis was still playing on his mind enough for him to lose his joy.
Checking the description made my heart skip a beat. It was brief and had only two hashtags:
Made and lost a connection tonight. #pocketbear #wishyouwerehere