6. Come Clean
6
COME CLEAN
A lberto stood for a long time by the large table facing a long wall, hoping Mathias would take a hint to join him by using the excuse of wanting a cocktail sausage or some other disgusting-looking thing people like to eat at parties. He stood for so long even Eric came to talk to him at some point, asking him all sorts of weird and nonsensical questions before he huffed and dragged Zak out of the room, no doubt to tell him how much he regretted inviting Alberto.
Finally, Mathias left his corner by the lamp and came to his side. Despite the pounding music, Alberto had struggled so much to remain standing without falling asleep, but now he found he still had some energy after all.
“Sausage?” he asked.
“Don’t start.” Mathias opened a beer and stood next to him against the wall where they could see everyone coming and going. Eric was following his guests, mopping up any accidental spillage after them. On the other side of the room, Zak was watching him while sipping beer, looking so horny, Alberto worried Eric would have to mop him off the floor next.
“Xavier finally left you alone for a minute,” Mathias said, raising his voice a little.
“Oh…” Alberto glanced at him. “Have you been watching us?”
“No.” He took a large swig of beer. “I’m just… I’m observant. ”
“If you’re so observant…” Alberto checked no one was looking in their direction before he leaned into his space. “Have you seen my arse in these trousers?”
This time, Mathias let out a laugh. His hazel eyes brightened, and his cheekbones took on a glow.
People don’t have a clue what real beauty is , Alberto thought.That… that was beautiful. Not half-dead-looking faces on glossy magazines, those so photoshopped, their own mother couldn’t recognise them. No. True beauty was a rare bloom on a desecrated field; or in this case, an unexpected smile on a usually dour face. Alberto stared, transfixed, burning the image in his memory for later, and he eventually flinched when Mathias snapped his fingers under his nose.
“Where the hell were you this time?”
“What?”
Mathias shook his head. “Michael and his boyfriend just arrived.”
Alberto followed his gaze toward the opposite side of the room, where, leaning against the fridge, some hot guy was poorly pretending not to throw anxious looks at him. And next to him stood Michael, who was doing his best to resist the onslaughts of Joy and Melissa.
“You know them?” Alberto asked in a wheezy voice.
“I met them once. Eric’s fond of Michael.”
“Oh, right.”
Alberto recalled the first time he and Mathias kissed, how he said Eric had told him about Michael, and his throat tightened. And, just as he feared, after some hesitation, Mathias asked, “If I ask you, will you tell me the truth?”
“The truth…?”
“What really happened between you and Michael? Why is Louis staring at you like that?”
Alberto didn’t want to answer. These days, guilt rarely seized him, but in that instance, it really did, both for what he’d done and for the way Michael had reacted: with kindness. Decency. Pity .
He chuckled darkly. “Maybe because I forced myself on his boyfriend once.”
Mathias sprayed beer all over the place, earning looks of surprise from those standing close by. He glanced at Alberto’s serious face and turned white.
“Are you… are you serious right now?”
Alberto wiped beer droplets off his cheek with his sleeve. “No.”
But close enough anyway .
“Christ!” Mathias shook his head. “Stop fucking with me like that. I almost died.”
“Sorry, couldn’t resist. You always make the best faces, no matter what I say.”
Grabbing a pile of paper napkins, Mathias mopped up his shirt with a disgruntled expression that brought inexplicable flutters to Alberto’s stomach. “What happened, anyway?”
“I did something bad. Every time I see him, I’m reminded of it.” You’re not a good person, are you? “And I don’t like it.”
“Wait…” Mathias frowned. “Maybe you did something bad, but you know… it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.”
Alberto met his eyes with confusion. “But you already think I’m a bad person. You tell me all the time. So, why are you defending me now?”
Mathias’s expression turned sour. “I’m not,” he grumbled. “W-?What did you do to him, exactly?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Come on, since Ialreadythink you’re a bad person, what’s the worst that can happen?”
“I don’t know, but it can always get worse.”
“God.” Mathias took a sip of beer. “Lighten up a little.”
“Look at you after one drink. Suddenly, you’re the life of the party.”
Mathias turned red. “Fine! Shut the fuck up if you’re not gonna tell me.”
“Now that you ask so nicely, how can I refuse?”
They were both raising their voices, and some footballers were still staring from Mathias’s earlier display. With a sigh, Alberto relented. Knowing the truth wouldn’t make Mathias like him more, but he felt compelled to tell him. It had to be done.
“I jumped him once,” he said. “I knew he had a boyfriend, and I knew he didn’t like me, yet I cornered him and kissed him anyway.” Alberto screwed his eyes shut. “It was awful.”
Mathias was silent for a spell. He finished his beer before he spoke again. “What did Michael say?”
“He was paralysed,” Alberto recalled with anguish. “It was really awkward. Afterwards, he tried to… to talk to me. It made things even worse. I left the room, and since then, I try not to think about it, but every time I see him… ”
Mathias turned and turned the empty bottle between his fingers. “Why…? Why did you do that? You liked him that much?”
“ Like ?” Alberto frowned. “What like ?”
Michael was picked because he was a perfect candidate… for Alberto’s mother. Tall and handsome, he had it all: dark curly hair and deep-green eyes, he was sweet but not nauseating, cultured but not arrogant. He and Alberto shared an affinity for history, violent Korean films, and songs without lyrics. With Michael, Alberto saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone; not only was he good enough for him, but he was like a much better version of himself. Between a stick figure or the live model of the perfect son, what mother wouldn’t choose the latter?
At the time, Alberto imagined very well locking himself into a relationship with Michael to make up for everything he could never be. So what if he didn’t feel anything for him? He didn’t feel anything ever, so what was the difference, exactly? It was lucky Michael didn’t care for him. What a waste of both of their times it would have been otherwise.
Mathias huffed and opened another beer. He seemed pissed off. It was understandable. After all, he said it himself: he hated selfish shits. Alberto saw Michael, heard he was gay, purposefully ignored the fact that he had a boyfriend and didn’t seem interested in him, and selfishly cornered him. It was really messed up of him to believe that it would only take one kiss to make Michael his. One kiss… Isn’t that all it takes? In his experience, that was the case. When the idea came to him, it came violently, like every other impulse. If I kiss him now, then I’ll feel a great thrill. If I kiss him now, everything will be all right .He had given in to his fear, just for a second, and he would feel guilty about it for the rest of his life.
It happened after Zak had confessed his adoration for him, of which Alberto was well aware. At the time, Alberto cared nothing for Zak; he was just another fanboy who couldn’t see past his looks. To be honest, it even surprised him how collected Zak appeared when he declared himself after weeks of watching his every move with starry eyes. In any case, his declaration triggered something.
It occurred one stuffy afternoon, while Michael and Alberto were watching dailies alone in the dingy little back room. Michael — after calling it a day — stood and stretched in that way he did. He looked attractive enough, and Alberto had the feeling he would kiss back if given a little push. Wasn’t he irresistible, after all? Before Michael’s arms were back to his sides, Alberto was in front of him .
Michael had seen the look on his face and had swallowed. “Alberto…”
They were about the same height. All Alberto had to do was close the gap between their faces. He did so without hesitation and without emotion. When lips met lips, Michael froze against the wall. Then, he curled his hands around his arms and gently pushed him away. Alberto stood back, at first unsure whether he was frustrated or simply relieved.
“Nothing?”
Michael shook his head vigorously. When Alberto stepped away, he gave an audible sigh, and Michael’s expression softened, his eyes taking on a glint of pity. “Are you all right?”
Now, Alberto knew what he felt was frustration. He shut his eyes and pinched his lips. “ I should be asking you this.”
“I’m fine, but you, you look?—”
“Sorry,” Alberto cut in. “Am I going to get in trouble for this?”
“No…” Michael hesitated. “Am I?”
“Of course not.”
When Michael began extending his hand toward him, Alberto backtracked into the desk.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Before he knew it, he was out the door, and he never allowed himself to be alone in the same room with Michael again.
Tonight, he was forced to relive the scene, forced to witness the tension on Mathias’s face. He was forced to take a ride on the same carousel of unpleasant memories, the one that always ended up breaking down at the worst possible times.
“I misread the room that time…” Alberto said in a whisper. “I misread things a lot.”
His forehead creased, Mathias asked, “Do you regret it?”
Alberto nodded. He couldn’t tell him how much he regretted it, that he would do such a thing… He was afraid his voice would crack if he tried to say it. Sometimes he asked himself, Why did you do this? It made no sense as all. Sometimes he knew the answer: he was bad; rotten to the core .
Mathias was silent for a moment, staring down at his beer like it was its fault. Alberto was getting frightened he would just tell him to sod off and that he never wanted to see him again, that he really was a bad person, a demon, or worse. He was frightened Mathias would ask him what else he’d done. He was frightened he would have to tell him the truth, because he couldn’t help wanting to tell him things about him, and this mistake with Michael wasn’t even close to the worst thing he’d done.
But what actually came out of his mouth wasn’t at all what Alberto had expected.
“He doesn’t trust it,” Mathias said, his voice low. “Louis. He doesn’t believe his guy rejected you.”
Alberto’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
Mathias turned his head to the side, as though he’d rather not say. “He probably thinks his boyfriend is bullshitting him. That he kissed you back and then made it sound like it was all your fault.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Because…” Mathias scowled at his beer. “No one in their right mind can reject you when you get all sexy, Alberto. Trust me. I wish I could.”
Alberto dipped his head. “I know you do.” Seeing Mathias’s expression grow helpless, he boldly seized the moment and added, “Can I put this theory to the test?”
Mathias drew in a sharp breath. “Just lead the way.”
“No, you go. Find us a place. But I promise… I’ll be real good once I get there.”
Mathias never graced him with another look. Clenching his jaw and his beer, he walked away in search of a secluded location. Alberto stared after him, puzzled.
Yes, he really was feeling bad for Mathias for falling into his trap, but that’s not all he felt for him anymore. It was too late on all counts.
The clocks struck midnight shortly after, and the tipsy — or full-on drunk, in the case of some football players — guests gathered in the dining room to cut the cake. Alberto admired from a distance how Eric managed to convince Zak the cake on display was not, in fact, a wedding cake, but a “super special three-tier birthday cake,” despite being clearly, from the snowy colour to the little bows to the outlandish size of it, a wedding cake. Zak, himself intoxicated and obviously smitten, went for the lie or pretended to believe him. He was, after all, a good actor.
They sang — Alberto didn’t — the classic birthday song. Eric had a horrible voice, but Melissa didn’t, so it worked out pretty well. Xavier popped open a bottle of Champagne, and the cork flew straight toward Michael’s handsome boyfriend and would have given him a proper black eye if Michael hadn’t caught it right before the impact, as though he were prepared for it. Before long, Champagne glasses were passed around, and Camille was cutting the cake with what appeared to be a giant butcher knife, while Zak was busy opening a large pile of birthday presents. His friend Arthur kept urging him to tear the paper open instead of carefully unwrapping each one and driving everyone insane with impatience.
Then, suddenly, Eric was standing near Alberto, holding a plastic cup under his nose. “Champagne?”
“No, thank you.”
Eric flung the cup at one of his friends like he hadn’t ever expected Alberto to accept it. “So… still doing all right over here?”
Alberto avoided meeting Louis’s eyes for the tenth time tonight and nodded sheepishly. “Yep.”
“Good. Good, good, good.” Eric watched Zak open his next present with relish and refused the portion Camille offered him with a smile.“Thanks, but I don’t touch that stuff.”
“I don’t touch that stuff either,” Alberto said.
Eric gave him a sideways glance. “That— that can’t be the only thing we have in common, can it?”
“That, and… we both put our tongues in Zak’s mouth.”
Eric gripped the edge of the table behind him with both hands. “I will fucking kill you one day.”
“Mm . ” Alberto nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Eric opened his mouth to say something, but some burly footballer interrupted them, insisting Alberto take a glass of Champagne. Despite his polite refusal, the guy wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when Eric told him to stop with a nervous laugh, but it was too late. His friends had heard them, and now Alberto was surrounded by drunk football players.
“You don’t drink?” one of them asked. “Ever?”
“Ever,” Alberto said.
“But why?!”
Everyone looked at him in shock. Alberto realised with some consternation he was the only one not drinking. “I don’t know… it seems to make people stupid sometimes.”
His comment was met with resentful looks. The next second, he was fending off remarks about how harmless drinking was and how weird he was for not wanting to join in the fun.
“You can have fun without getting drunk,” Alberto said.
“But are you having fun right now?” Joy asked, smirking .
Alberto hesitated and glanced around the room, but he didn’t find Mathias. “Not right now, no.”
“Then, come on, have a drink!”
Resigned, Alberto reached toward the plastic cup when Xavier appeared out of nowhere and swung his arm around his neck, almost putting him in a headlock. “If he doesn’t want to drink, then he doesn’t want to drink!” With an exaggerated laugh, he pulled him away from the others and into the quieter corridor.
“Don’t let them bully you,” he said, releasing him.
“Okay.” Alberto leaned against the wall. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Hey, were you serious? About not having a good time?” The way he was looking at him, Alberto felt Xavier was about to ask him to kiss him again. He must have looked smug, because Xavier came closer, so close, Alberto felt his breath on his neck, and he couldn’t help feeling amused. “Can I help in any way?”
Alberto twisted his neck to check out his eyes. They were eager and bright — and utterly confusing. Glancing over Xavier’s shoulder, he made eye contact with Mathias, who was just about to go upstairs, and his expression was murderous. Naturally, with the way Alberto had been flirting with him, Mathias had every right to consider his arse was his for the night. After the other day, he’d better stay clear of Xavier, however amusing his behaviour was.
“I’m having a moderate amount of fun,” he replied prudently, while Mathias made his way upstairs. “Thank you.”
He slipped away then, but Xavier followed, still bent on hugging him back to the dining room, where a group of people were watching intently.
“Xavier and Alberto!” Joy exploded, making Arthur jump in fright. “Are you a couple?”
Xavier burst out laughing. “You wish! I mean, I could have him anytime…” He met Alberto’s disapproving stare and gulped. “No, that’s not what I mean! I’m not gay!”
“Yeah, we know that.” Joy narrowed her eyes impatiently. “But the question everybody wants to know tonight is… are you?” She was looking at Alberto. “Are you gay or not?” She added under her breath, “Is Zak a liar or what…?”
Zak’s mouth fell open in outrage. “At my party, really? You’re gonna be like that?”
“Zak isn’t a liar,” Alberto said, and his cold tone actually made Joy’s friend Melissa shiver. “Not that it’s any of your business. ”
With this revelation, half of the girls in the room let out a sound of disappointment under the bewildered gaze of their boyfriends. Joy sneered, clearly still mad at Alberto for the other night, while Elodie spread out her hands, muttering, “Seriously? Why always the hot ones?”
Satisfied with his answer, the crowd moved on, except for Zak, who hovered by Alberto with a wounded expression. “So, what was it?” he asked. “You didn’t find me attractive?”
Caught off guard, Alberto blinked stupidly at him. “What? No, not true. I always thought you were cute.”
“Cute? Like a little boy?”
“No. Cute, like, cute. Cute .”
“But you didn’t want to touch me. Didn’t even want to kiss me.”
What a dangerous conversation to have. Alberto had to get out of this, and quick. He looked around for a way out, but Zak was blocking his path.
“Does it matter?” he asked. “Your boyfriend wants you so much, he’s practically foaming at the mouth, and he’s hotter than me, so why are you even talking to me?” He chortled at Zak’s shocked expression. “What? You both want it. Why not get it over with?”
“Because!” Zak stomped his foot. “I had— Imean, I have principles. I wanted to wait.” He gave him a long, shrewd look. “And I always thought you were… you know…” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “like me.”
“Like you?”
“Waiting… you know… for the right one?”
Alberto chuckled. “I’m probably the biggest slut in this room.”
Zak’s formidable brows shot up. “What?”
“Probably. Xavier is also here, so I don’t know.” Alberto carefully omitted Eric from the list, not just because he wanted a truce, but also because Eric had an unfair slutty reputation. Contrary to Xavier, who did bed more than half the girls in his year, Eric only had flings with a few. Eric was, in fact, possibly like Alberto, a monogamous slut, who dedicated themselves to one person enough to wear them out. That’s what Alberto intended to do with Mathias, anyway.
“I really know nothing about you, do I?” Zak mumbled, wringing his hands together. “It’s just… I’ve always wondered what was so wrong about me, why you didn’t like me that way. Whatever it was… what if Eric thinks the same once he… sees me… ”
Alberto reacted fast and poked Zak in the shoulder. “He won’t. It’s not the same.”
“Then, tell me why?—”
“Take off your clothes, see if his first reaction is not to try to destroy you. I’m willing to bet my favourite pair of shoes that he’ll turn into an animal.”
Zak blushed. “Alberto…”
“I’m just saying…” Alberto leaned forward and whispered something in his ear.
“Alberto!”
You’re welcome , Alberto thought. One day, he would tell him the truth, but today was not the day, so he left that cute little thing looking smug as hell and not worried anymore.
Since when was he giving away advice to people? And rooting for them, too? He was turning into a strange person indeed.
And speaking of strange, Mathias hadn’t returned; Alberto was missing him already. He left Zak to go in search of him, but he’d only taken a few steps before a hand closed around his wrist and pulled him away into the darkness.