Chapter Sixteen
Leotard & Tights
Annette couldn’t believe they were going to the studio. “I thought we were watching Tokyo Godfathers.” It was another Christmas tradition, and more important for the fact that Trenton had never seen the film—a travesty.
“We’ll be back soon,” Hilary warned. “Don’t start without us.”
“Fine. We’ll watch Claus.”
Another perfect film.
“Don’t start that either!”
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
“I don’t know—you’re married, aren’t you?”
Albert looked at his wife and said, “I forget sometimes that we aren’t just his walking wallet. To think we actually have identity and autonomy outside of him.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Annette answered. “He’s still our overlord until next month when he turns eighteen. But Trenton, honey, you can be an overlord for however long you want. You don’t get an expiration date.”
Blatant favoritism. And he couldn’t even blame them. Trenton was his overlord too.
In the car, he was handed a final envelope.
“This had better not be another present.”
He was still reeling over his jar of stars. He could live another hundred Christmases and never manage to pay back the magnitude of that one.
“It’s not.”
So he opened the envelope and found a few sheets of listings. Used cars being sold in the area. “I love the Shitheap,” Trenton said. “And I’ll be inconsolable the day we have to retire her, but I think that day’s going to be soon.”
It was true. The poor girl had been on her last legs even before the move, only able to complete the long journey because a friend of Annette’s had towed her the last leg of the trip after the engine overheated.
Every morning that it started up was a miracle, and it was only Trenton’s unique touch that had gotten them through some tight scrapes.
It had gotten so bad, Annette had forbidden them from taking the Shitheap off the local roads.
The last time they’d gone to the city, they’d used Albert’s car.
Hilary looked at the listings again. Trenton had done his due diligence. The cars were all reliable models, at decent prices, and with the promise of the cars’ full maintenance history available upon asking. But that didn’t change reality.
“I can’t afford any of these.”
That was an understatement. He couldn’t even afford gas for the Shitheap.
“You can,” Trenton corrected. “Except for these last two. We’ll need a couple more paychecks, but Mom and Dad said they could loan us the amount in the meantime if either of them were what you wanted.
On the very last page was a bank statement, with all of Trenton’s life savings—five years of working at the bookstore, though for the most part he’d only been there for pocket change and books to read.
It was only in the last year or so that Mrs. Parson had finished paying off her mortgage and had finally been in a position to begin compensating Trenton for his labor.
It was something she’d had to insist on, actually, as he'd been more than happy enough to continue working only for the sake of his beloved books.
But the money part was almost a distraction from the main lightning strike. “That’s the first time you’ve called them that.”
It wasn’t quite true. Trenton had been using the terms ‘mom and dad’ directly to their faces, but never when it was just the two of them alone together.
Trenton shrugged. “It always felt too presumptuous before.”
“When did that change?”
“Just now, I think.”
They looked at each other, and Trenton pushed the papers closer until they were touching Hilary’s chest. “You won’t say anything like I can’t take it, right?”
“You said it wasn’t a present.”
“Because it isn’t. We’ll be living together so we’ll be sharing the car. Hilary, everything I have is yours. It doesn’t make any sense otherwise.”
If their lives were going to overlap—if they were going to be, in a sense, partners in everything, then no, it didn’t make sense to partition things. And the feeling wasn’t new. Hilary realized he’d been thinking of their resources as pooled for a long time already.
There was only one problem. “It feels uneven, though. I don’t have much to contribute.”
But Trenton shrugged that off too. “If Maggie’s mortgage had been bigger, I wouldn’t have anything to contribute either. It worked out this time. Next time it might be your boon. It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
It didn’t. It was only some other person’s version of pride that was insisting it did, and Hilary found he didn’t much care about other people’s versions of things anymore.
In the studio, Trenton requested a leotard. “On the coupons you never said you wouldn’t wear a leotard.”
“I never said I’d wear one either,” Hilary grumbled, but he still put it on.
“And the tights.”
“You’re really demanding today.”
“It doesn’t make sense to do the leotard and not the tights.”
No, he supposed it didn’t.
Hilary had to warm up first, though that didn’t take long.
He was in much better condition since returning to the classes and spending more time in the studio.
It felt good, and he found he was enjoying himself.
For the dance, he chose a section from Coppelia, a ballet he’d been obsessed with as a younger, slightly emo, teenager.
He found he still remembered it all, the steps hammered into his body after so many repetitions, but he improvised anyway, adding in extra jumps and turns simply for the fun of doing them.
He’d always loved the jumps most, the part of dancing that required the most strength.
Ballet wasn’t exactly a manly art form, but somehow he always felt at his most masculine when he was doing the jumps. Hilarina on steroids.
“I don’t know how you do that,” Trenton said once the dance was over, and Hilary was cooling down. He was leaning into his developpe, leg up by his ear, as high as it would go.
“I can show you the basic form of it,” Hilary offered. “The rest is just stretching and practice. Come here.”
“I can’t.”
It was a strange answer. The tone of it too. Hilary turned.
Trenton was on one of the floor mats, sitting with his legs crossed, a little hunched over.
It was an unusual pose for him. After so many years of Aikido, he had very good posture.
But the pose was deliberate. Meant to obscure.
It took Hilary a moment. Okay, a couple of moments. Then it finally dawned on him.
“You’re hard.”
It felt so strange to say. Maybe because he’d never said that phrase aloud before—especially not to Trenton of all people.
But even if the words felt clumsy, the sentiment didn’t.
He felt himself warming, the smile coming to his face quick and impish.
“To think that even the silver knight himself could be a pervert. Where exactly were you looking, ogre?”
And suddenly Hilary was glad for the tights, seeing his reflection in the mirror with new eyes. They didn’t hide much at the best of times and were frankly obscene with his leg up by his ear.
Trenton started to stand. “I’ll leave.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Trenton was flushed, and not with arousal, but confusion. This was obviously something that—if it had ever happened before—hadn’t been nearly often enough to grow accustomed to.
Hilary held out an arm to him. “Come here.”
Trenton came, though not quickly. He seemed loath to move, stilted, for once. His usual self-assurance nowhere to be found.
“I don’t want—”
“I know. It’s alright.”
Trenton took hold of his hand but couldn’t seem to bring himself any nearer. “This doesn’t happen.”
“That’s fine. Either way is fine.”
It was strange to see Trenton panicking, but he remembered what the boy had said about not being great with change. Then again, anyone would be shaken to see evidence against something they’d believed their whole lives.
He tried to pull Trenton closer, but the boy flinched back. “Don’t let it—!”
Hilary paused, but didn’t let go. “Because it’s frightening, or because you’re afraid I’ll find it gross?”
Trenton looked so vulnerable. So young. “I—” He seemed to want to run. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t have to know. It’s alright, Trent. Really.”
“Why is this happening?”
“It could be a fluke. Dicks are weird. They do whatever they want. It doesn’t have to imply anything.”
“I know what it implies.”
“I mean, it doesn’t change anything. If you want to explore it, great. If you don’t want to explore it, also great. Either way, you’re stuck with me for life. What’s anything else next to that? Just a rounding error.”
“A rounding error.” Trenton blinked. Then his eyes grew wet.
“Shit. Sorry, I suck at—"
Trenton hugged him, a real hug, tight as always—even if it did make that part of him touch. “It’s okay?”
“Of course it is. You’d say the same to me, right? Could I be gross to you?”
“Sometimes. When you chew with your mouth open.”
“I get congested!”
Trenton grinned. Then he got misty-eyed again. He clapped a hand over his face. “Sorry, I—I’m just like this today.”
“Me too.” It had been an emotional morning. “I cried earlier, remember?”
“Is it a competition?”
“Yes, and I’m winning.”
Hilary pulled the hand away, went up on his tiptoes, and kissed that perfect mouth.
“As long as you let me do that every day, we won’t have any problems.” He should have left it at that, but then he got that mischievous itch again, and added, “Though if I’d known I had a chance, I would have played the whore sooner.
You like tights? What about thigh highs? ”
Trenton ducked his head into his shoulder to hide. “You’re teasing me.”
“I’m serious about the thigh highs. Should we go and buy some? Or are all purchases off the table until we’ve topped off the car fund?”
Trenton stayed hidden. “If this is just a onetime thing—I mean, if it doesn’t happen again, will you be disappointed?”
“Do you think that you could be you and I could be me and ever be disappointed?”
Trenton stayed a little lost after that.
Shy and nervous and sweetly innocent, but it was alright.
Hilary just kept him close, keeping his hold like the boy was his little duckling.
They both cried watching Tokyo Godfathers, an excuse to vent their feelings.
“I just love you a lot,” Trenton said while he was attacked with tissues.
“I thought about what you said. About being homeless together. I want to have a family with you.”
“Homeless?” Annette was alarmed. “What’s this about being homeless?”
Hilary forced some water down Trenton’s throat. “We’re already a family, silly.”