20. Isaiah
Isaiah
December, Brighton
Green looked fucking good, and it wasn’t fair.
It was becoming a problem, being around him, because Isaiah’s body was really struggling to remember that this was Chris Green, the man who had tricked him. Who had cheated his way into the Olympics. Who had watched him for months without ever saying anything.
But he was also the man who’d told him how strained his relationship with his twin was, who’d talked about regret and absolution like they were unreachable and who had taken all his verbal abuse and still carried him home safely last night.
This was the man he could be his whole self with, and despite how much he might deserve it, never receive any judgement in return. 59
And he looked so fucking good.
The ground was still frozen when they clambered out of their taxis at the local Parkrun. The safety briefing was already underway as he forced Jackson and Elliot into the thrifted wedding dresses he’d found with Jacob and Mal a few weeks ago.
The whole group looked a bit worse for wear, but Green’s eyes were glittering with mirth as he watched Jackson stumble to the front of the group, bleary-eyed, with puffy satin sleeves and a train haphazardly pinned up, to get side-eyed hard by the local runners who were probably used to dominating the weekly circuit.
The local organiser called out congratulations to the two stags, just as Isaiah had arranged, and then they were off running through the frozen park.
Isaiah tried to keep up for the first hundred metres or so but soon had to admit to himself that he wasn’t going to be up at the front with his cousin and a group of literal professionals, no matter how well his season had gone this year.
He watched Green kick up his pace, the way he managed to hang on to the group a clear indication that he hadn’t let his fitness slip.
“Enjoying the view?” Jamie, Darius’s boyfriend, had caught up to him, and though he was huffing and puffing like he was about to collapse, he still managed to snap Isaiah out of his Chris Green-induced reverie. “Green’s doing better than I expected.”
“He works hard. He doesn’t deserve all the hate he gets.” Isaiah wasn’t sure where the defence had come from, but it wasn’t untrue.
Jamie cocked his head. “Didn’t say he did. Though, gotta say, didn’t expect you to be part of his fan club with what I’ve heard from Jax.”
The pair caught up to Jacob, who was fading fast, his efforts to keep up with his up-and-coming elite marathon runner boyfriend failing at last.
“Oh, Isaiah is basically head of the Chris Green fan club,” Jacob unhelpfully said as they jogged up alongside him.
Feet thudded along the ground, and blood thundered in Isaiah’s ears. “I am not.”
“You talk about him all the time, spent months of your life helping save his career, and won’t shut up about his cock.”
“That is not true—” Isaiah shouted, right as Jamie said. “Sorry, what’s your familiarity level with his cock, exactly?”
“Well—” Jacob started.
“Don’t,” Isaiah said.
“I thought this wasn’t a secret anymore.”
“My part may not be, but you can’t just broadcast shit about Green. There are consequences.”
Jacob arched a brow but zipped his lips. Jamie looked between them like he was watching a ping-pong match. “I don’t need to know the details, but I’m not unaware of your content, so I’m pretty sure I can infer.”
Isaiah flushed red, and it had nothing to do with the exertion of the run.
The three of them had fallen well behind now, the quintet of professional athletes just specks in the distance.
By the time Isaiah had handed in his chip, had his time recorded, and located the jacket he’d stashed on the side of the course, Elliot, Jackson, and Darius were posing with some local runners who had clearly recognised them.
Stefan, Chris, and Malek were standing off to the side, laughing and sipping coffees they must have already had time to grab from the local coffee cart. Isaiah eyed them with envy.
“Green,” Jackson shouted at Chris. “Get in here. Squad photo.”
Chris looked startled to be addressed, but Isaiah laughed as he saw the three Olympians waving him over and briefly hoped this photo would go viral as fuck.
It would do wonders to dispel the myths of discord between Green and Elliot.
His investment in Green’s happiness felt uncomfortable, but undeniable.
“Oh my god.” A whisper ran through the small crowd as Isaiah moved closer to the group with Jamie and Jake. “Is that…?” He wondered if another celebrity had shown.
Isaiah looked around, nearly spinning in a full circle before landing back on his group, who were all looking at him and waving him over now.
He moved towards them with trepidation. They were posing for a photo with a small group of people in rainbow racing singlets, probably a local LGBTQ+ running club. One of them approached him.
“Would you mind jumping in?” A man with dirty blonde hair, waving a phone about, asked. “Our friends will absolutely die if they know they skipped this for drag brunch and ended up missing not just the whole Olympic marathon team but QuickandDirty as well.”
Isaiah blinked. This was not real life. Was someone seriously approaching him for a fan photo because of his cam work?
“Come on, Owens. Get in on this,” Green shouted him over. Isaiah moved almost on instinct, inserting himself under Green’s arm. The weight of it on his shoulders was comforting. So was the soft whisper in his ear. “It’s a good thing, Isaiah.”
Isaiah swallowed and plastered a grin on his face, leaning into Green and inhaling the scent of him—sweat mixed with pine and coffee that didn’t just steady him, it filled him with desire that had nowhere to go.
When the photo had been taken and the group dispersed after a handful of haphazard autographs, Alfie wandered over, a grin plastered on his face, as the last finisher in their group by a long shot.
“What’s a guy gotta do to get a coffee around here?” he asked with a booming laugh, “Run another mile?”
Stefan practically leapt to lead him towards the coffee cart, earning a chuckle from Chris. Isaiah was distinctly reminded of those early streams, when drawing a laugh out of Flash had felt like enough of an accomplishment to carry him through the day.
“Where to next, Mr. Itinerary?” Green asked.
Isaiah smiled, then faltered. It was too easy now, falling into this with Green, treating him like Flash.
They knew each other too well to not fall into step.
60 He watched the group gather round, coffees in hand.
“Breakfast, then the spa in our building. Then we’ve got time for an afternoon break before another night of debauchery. ” He finished with an exaggerated wink.
“Excellent, I need a fucking rub down.” Jamie grabbed his boyfriend and marched for the park entrance. They all followed, heading towards where the taxis were waiting for them.
Stefan bumped Isaiah’s shoulder as they walked and whispered, “Hey, so I saw we were paired up for the massages later, right?”
Isaiah paused mid-step. “Oh, yeah, we agreed it made more sense to book in pairs and get everyone through. Is that alright?”
The Austrian laughed. “I’m just here to beg you to swap so I can be paired up with Alfie.”
Isaiah grinned. “I’ll do what I can.”
It wasn’t until he was standing at reception sorting out the logistics that he realised pairing up Alfie and Stefan automatically meant pairing himself up with Green.
A thrill ran through him that had no business being there.
It was just a massage in the same room. There was nothing romantic about a couple’s massage, no matter how much Stefan was obviously hoping it would be for him and Alfie.
Isaiah’s reasoning felt empty even to his own mind.
Green was already in the room by the time he’d sorted everything out with reception.
They had the run of the place—aromatherapy steam rooms, the pool for the afternoon—but from the look of them, he expected most of the group would be heading to the penthouse upstairs to sleep off the remainder of their hangovers rather than really making use of the facilities.
“I’m trying really hard not to read anything into this, Owens,” Green said as he walked in.
Isaiah tried to scoff, but it came out strangled, and his eyes burned as he watched Green pull off his shirt and stretch out on the massage table, unaffected, as though Isaiah weren’t even there.
He fumbled with his own clothing then lay down on the next table.
Fucking couples’ massages. He was going to murder Jackson.
Sure, it had seemed like a good idea when he’d first suggested it, and yes, there were a lot of couples at this tame excuse for a stag do, but lying here, listening to Green’s surely exaggerated moans as the masseuse worked out the knots in his glutes was actual torture.
Isaiah ground himself as subtly as possible against the table beneath him.
His own body started to relax as the masseuse worked out the knots in his shoulders, tighter than usual with the stress of his ridiculous schedule and the departmental bollocks that always seemed to follow him.
Before he knew it, the calming music, scent of aromatherapy oils, and strong hands working his muscles had him drifting off.
Isaiah was woken suddenly by a gentle touch brushing his hair from his face. “Isaiah,” a deep voice whispered. “Isaiah, the massage is over. Ell wanted me to let you know they’re heading back up for a nap.”
“Is that what they’re calling it?” Isaiah mumbled, half-asleep still and not completely aware of his surroundings or who he was with.
A deep laugh made his heart swell, and the scent of pine drifting towards him brought him slowly out of his spa-induced haze. He blinked his eyes open. “Green. How long was I out?”
“Massage ended about thirty minutes ago. You seemed like you needed the rest, so we just wanted to let you sleep. The place is booked out anyway.”
“I know,” Isaiah replied, sitting up. “I’m the one who booked it.”