Chapter 12 #8
Leo was silent for a beat, going still against Joshua. Then he cleared his throat, the certainty he usually possessed stripped from him. “Hi, excuse me. I’d like to speak to either Marianne or Troy, please?”
“Whom may I announce?” the woman asked.
Leo turned his head to bury his nose in Joshua’s hair, his answer slightly muffled. “Their son.”
A noticeable pause followed. Then the woman apparently regained her composure and told him to wait a moment, please; she’d be right back.
In the ensuing silence, Joshua lifted his head to kiss Leo’s mouth, the tip of his nose, his cheek, peppering the line of his jaw with little pecks until Leo’s tension eased slightly and he turned his head to catch Joshua’s lips with his own.
The woman’s voice startled them apart. “I am deeply sorry,” she said, and while her tone was still professional, Joshua was close enough that he caught a hint of discomfort she couldn’t quite hide. “I’m afraid your parents are unavailable, Sir.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Biting down on the sharp exclamation, Joshua tried to wrap himself all around Leo, breathe him in and shield him from the cool evening air, from an unaccountably cruel world. His lungs were burning.
“Are they unavailable on a permanent basis?” Leo asked, a tiny hitch in his voice.
“Unfortunately so. Should there be a problem, their lawyer will be at your service.” The woman hesitated, then added quietly, “However, if it’s of any relevance, I just thought—I heard the young misses mention their lost brother on occasion. I’m sure they would be more… receptive.”
Leo shifted to fit perfectly into the circle of Joshua’s embrace, their legs slotting together, bodies aligned from head to hip to toe.
For a second everything was quiet, the rustle of leaves and the distant static of a London evening fading away.
Leo’s chest expanded on a slow, measured intake of air.
“Would you happen to have a current phone number for Charlotte?”
“Certainly,” the woman said, and Joshua tried to memorise the number she dictated.
Once the call had disconnected, Leo dropped the phone and rolled them over, draped himself on top of Joshua and sagged into him, shaking a little.
All Joshua could do was hold on and whisper low, soothing reassurances into his hair.
Slowly, the strain in Leo’s body subsided, making room for what appeared to be deep-seated exhaustion. His lips parted against Joshua’s jaw.
“Hey,” Joshua murmured, voice so low it blended in with the golden evening light. “D’you want me to cancel the match later? Tell the others to raid someone else’s fridge. Which—shit, that reminds me. The ice cream is probably sludge by now. I left it in the car.”
Leo puffed out a watery laugh and raised his head to study Joshua. There was a wet sheen to his eyes. “What a waste of good ice cream. What did you do that for?”
“I was trying to get to you right away,” Joshua told him. He lifted a hand to thumb at the corner of Leo’s mouth, smiling a little. “With that message you sent, I didn’t know if it was good or bad. Turned out to be pretty good, I guess. At least that particular bit.”
“Just so you know…” Leo’s expression was gentle, painfully open. “You’re doing kind of all right with that whole supportive boyfriend thing, Princey. Not complaining.”
Joshua chuckled and pretended that his heart hadn’t performed a dizzying twist in his chest. “The highest form of flattery, I assume.”
“Sure is.” Framed by the fading daylight behind him, Leo didn’t move for a short while, propped up on his elbows above Joshua, his gaze tracking slowly from his mouth up to his eyes.
He seemed at a loss for a moment, then shook himself out of it.
“Anyway, no. Don’t cancel tonight. Think it’ll be good, you know, having a laugh with the others.
It’s not like I expected much, so… Fuck.
If my parents don’t want a fair warning, they won’t get one. ”
“They’re your parents, though,” Joshua said faintly, and God, how could two people do that to their child? How could they be this indifferent to his brilliance, his sharp angles and soft contours, his wit?
Leo’s response came with a delay, but when he spoke his voice was firm.
“Only on paper. My sisters, though—that’s different.
And that woman on the phone did say that they mention me sometimes.
So I guess… I guess my hopes are better placed with them than with two people who happened to provide my biological material. ”
Hate was such an ugly emotion, and usually Joshua tried to be above it. Right now, he found it hard to ignore the nasty ball of acid sitting somewhere below his ribs. Something must have shown on his face, because Leo dipped down to rest their foreheads together.
“Don’t waste your energy on them, love,” he murmured. “They’re simply not worth it.”
“I guess they’re not.”
“I know they’re not.”
“Okay.” With some difficulty, Joshua pulled his thoughts away from that dark corner and tilted his head to press his nose to Leo’s. “Help me get the supplies upstairs, then?”
A glint of tentative humour lurked in the corners of Leo’s eyes, so close that his lashes were out-of-focus. “Do you have to get dressed for that?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“In that case…” Leo exhaled in a rush, then rolled off Joshua. His grin came with a stubborn edge. “How about you stay right here, love? I’ll get the stuff up and you wait for me just like this, entertain yourself until I’m back. We’re not done yet.”
Joshua needed a second to relocate his ability for coherent speech.
Jesus, if this was how Leo dealt with tackling his past, Joshua certainly wasn’t complaining—and if there was a hint of sadness still lingering in the set of Leo’s shoulders, then Joshua hoped he’d be able to change that.
They had nearly two hours until the others would be over, two hours to lose themselves in each other.
“Is that an order?” Joshua asked out loud.
“It’s an invitation,” Leo corrected. “RSVP.”
“Confirmed.” Melting into the mattress, Joshua shoved the afghan off himself, smiled at Leo and circled his half-hard cock in a loose grip. Leo froze where he’d been about to fish the car key out of Joshua’s jeans. His throat moved as he gulped in a little air.
Then he crawled right back into the space beside Joshua, slapped Joshua’s hand away and hovered above him, a mere inch between their mouths. “Fuck the ice cream,” he announced.
“Fuck me,” Joshua told him, wrapping both arms around Leo’s waist and pulling him close. Leo came easily.
* * *
They’d made the mistake of agreeing on a one-shot-per-goal rule.
With Germany flattening Brazil seven goals to one, the process became…
painful. At least it did so the next morning, even though Leo had switched to taking watered-down shots after number four.
When he woke up his head throbbed, mouth stuffed with cotton, and his vision felt blurry with sleep.
A glance at the clock revealed that it was just past eight.
In theory, it was a perfectly average Wednesday with normal office hours. But office hours with James had never been normal, and they’d grown more erratic ever since Leo had become his own client.
His own client. Fuck. In three days, he and Joshua would stage the picture that would set the wheels turning, and then there was no way back. Only forward. Whatever that meant.
With no small amount of effort, Leo managed to sit up.
The room lurched around him in a drunken swagger, Joshua’s arm around his middle reluctant to release him.
Since Leo needed to piss and maybe throw up, he freed himself all the same, and Joshua made a sad noise in his sleep.
Which—okay, no. Right now, Leo had no patience for Joshua being adorable.
Not when his bladder had swollen to three times its usual size.
Stumbling out of bed Leo almost tripped over Tristan’s feet, sticking out from where he had sprawled in an armchair near the door, dirty clothes serving as his blanket.
He looked blissfully dead to the world. Maybe Leo would draw a penis on his forehead later, fair punishment for winning their betting pool.
Anyway. Pissing.
Leo felt marginally more awake once he had relieved himself, swallowed a couple of painkillers dry and then brushed his teeth—although he was just dizzy enough to take a mental nosedive at how he had his very own toothbrush at Joshua’s place now.
It sat right there in the same glass as Joshua’s, privileged compared to the other glass, which hosted toothbrushes for Tristan and Mo and, since last night, also one for Nate.
A key and a toothbrush. Some of Leo’s clothes had transferred to this flat as well, and he had been home only once in the last three days. Wow. The mild queasiness in his stomach didn’t feel too unpleasant anymore.
Traipsing past the closed door of the guest room and back into the master bedroom, Leo stood at the foot of the mattress for a long moment to study Joshua’s sleeping form, bathed in sunlight that streamed in through the alcove’s window.
Despite the pounding in his head, Leo felt calm and certain.
Somehow, the restlessness that had been his constant companion for years had subsided, was maybe even gone.
He owed Johnson a fruit basket. Or a voucher for some A+ therapy sessions.
Stepping around Tristan’s prone form, Leo crouched down to grab his phone, then retreated to the balcony. Both elbows on the railing, he stared out at the old oak tree and tried to cling to his state of Zen. One phone call, that’s all it was. Easy. Easy.
Christ, Charlotte was studying in London. She was twenty-three now. Rosalind was nineteen. Nineteen. She’d been nine when Leo had run, and did she even remember she’d had a brother once? Did she care? What was it their parents had told her?
This wasn’t helping.