Chapter Thirty-Nine
THIS DAY could be worse. Sure, Lewis watched his boyfriend get forcibly outed last night. And sure, it was at Lewis’s best friend’s wedding, in which he had a major role. Yeah, he left the wedding to take care of his boyfriend, who, in the grips of a panic attack, broke up with him. After Lewis dropped the first I love you. And yep, then Lewis got real drunk. Drunk and emotional and extremely verbose in Tad’s DMs.
Now he’s hungover. And sad.
No, sad doesn’t do it justice. He’s used to sad. Sad was how he felt when he walked in on Jonah with his tongue up Mr. Gym Bod’s asshole. Sad was how he felt when Liam and Jayden and the rest of the dickhead parade dumped him.
When Tad walked away last night, Lewis felt his ribs splinter as they crushed his heart to dust. He had to pretend everything was fine because he didn’t want to ruin Stacy’s big day, but he was empty. Stacy knew something was wrong immediately. He set a timer on his phone and said she could comfort him until it hit zero, and then she had to enjoy her wedding. So she hugged him tight and rocked him until the timer chimed.
But. But.
Tad texted him back.
It’s right there, timestamp next to it. 2:31. Can’t choose between Madonna and Kylie. I would have danced to both with you
Maybe there’s still time to fix this. Maybe Lewis can convince Tad that he’s realistic and he wants to make this work for real, and that starts with sticking to their original agreement.
The divorce papers are in his custody. When he woke up, he signed them. It’s a pretty shit grand gesture, but life doesn’t need to be a rom-com. Maybe Lewis should stop looking for the happily ever after, the end of the story, and start looking for the beginning.
Maybe this marriage with Tad needs to end before they can have their beginning.
His moment of character growth doesn’t stop him from wanting the universe to reward him, though—and from being subsequently disappointed when Tad doesn’t text him upon completion of the forms.
He reads Tad’s text from last night again. It helps. He’s trying not to have an anxiety attack, but it’s hard. You’d think he’d be used to having his heart broken by now, but it hurts the same every time.
Midmorning, the texts start rolling in from his friends. Ava and Matty want to know if he’s heard from Tad. Ofelia apologizes for the millionth time. Lewis doesn’t have the energy to tell her he’s not the one she needs to apologize to.
Even Stace texts. Lewis tells her he’s fine and to stop worrying about him and enjoy her first full day as a married woman. She responds that of course she’s worried about him, he shoots back that he already feels like a dick for causing a scene at her wedding, to which she responds that Alang’s family is very dramatic and it wouldn’t have been right if there hadn’t been any drama.
Which gets his first smile of the day. He sends back, I love you so much Stace
How much time should he let go by before he texts Tad back? What’s the etiquette when your boyfriend dumps you after you tell him you love him, and then you send him increasingly pathetic texts while you get no response, but then… you do? And it seems like he still wants you?
Ugh. Lewis’s head hurts. How long ago did he take that ibuprofen? Can he take some more? Is he going to die if he does? Would dying be worse than the way his head hurts right now?
He takes the ibuprofen and chases it with an energy drink that’s past its expiration date. Hell yeah, he’s living on the edge today.
A shower makes him feel less like re-heated death. He stays in there longer than he normally would, letting the hot water sluice over him, mentally apologizing to the water table.
No text or call from Tad when he’s out of the shower. Maybe Lewis should call?
No. He should give Tad space. Right?
Definitely. Yeah. He’ll let Tad decide when he wants to initiate communication. He won’t fixate on the time and how long it’s been since Tad texted and he definitely won’t keep his phone from locking so he can watch his conversation with Tad for the three dots of incoming communication. He for sure isn’t going to check his phone every thirty seconds as he gets to all the cleaning he’s been putting off which suddenly seems like a brilliant way to spend his Sunday morning.
So yeah, by noon, smelling like bleach and sneezing from all the dust he’s kicked up, he texts Tad: Hope you’re ok today. I spent some time talking to Walt last night and he seemed accepting. Actually he was kind of distraught over everything and wanted to make sure he said the right things when he talked to you. I showed him some sites my mom recommends to people. So yeah, I hope if you talked to him, he wasn’t a dick or anything
Send.
He reads back what he wrote. Should he leave it at that?
Lol. No. He’s not going to leave it at that.
I really want to talk to you/see you. But also I get if you don’t want to talk today. I know you ended things and I know why but I just hope that maybe we can talk and idk. Maybe work it out.
Then, I want to work it out. I shouldn’t have said it then but I meant it when I told you I love you
Maybe I shouldn’t have said it again now
Anyway let me know
Jesus.
He locks his phone and buries his face in his hands, wishing he could cry, because at least it would be an outlet for this horrible, grinding pain behind his sternum. The tears won’t come, though.
Okay. He’s going to do something. He’s going to… go to the gym. Yeah. Take out his feelings with some weights. And then he’ll go grocery shopping. Maybe he’ll go for a walk. Maybe he’ll go out to dinner! By himself! Because that’s a thing he’s capable of doing!
His phone buzzes and Lewis dives for it.
His lungs stop working. It’s Tad. Are you at home today?
Yes , Lewis texts back immediately, all thoughts of the gym and grocery shopping and eating alone like a sad, recently dumped loser forgotten.
Like, all day?
Yeah no plans
Ok
Lewis waits, but that’s it. Tad doesn’t text again.
What’s happening? Is Tad coming here? Should Lewis clean up?
He spins eagerly, happy for A Task to occupy him—and he realizes he’s already gone through his entire apartment in an anxiety-fueled haze this morning, tidying and scrubbing. At least the place looks immaculate.
Lewis frowns. He’s never thought much about it, but it’s not very interesting in here. Not like Tad’s place, which is tranquil and green and riotous with life, or even like Lewis’s childhood bedroom. He tries not to buy a lot of plastic for the environment’s sake, so he doesn’t have many knickknacks, but the stuff he does have is boring. His sofa is cream-colored, the armchair is statement-piece peacock blue, but the effect is more Williams-Sonoma catalog than any kind of statement.
Even the few pieces of art on the walls are things he got from chain stores. There were a few he kept seeing everywhere—that origami-style art, photos of European cities—so he eventually figured he might as well get a few, because everyone liked them.
It dawns on him. He got them because everyone liked them. Because he wasn’t good enough for people on his own, so he unwittingly made his apartment the home equivalent of a dentist’s waiting room.
It’s like he spent so much time projecting onto the rom-com leads he’s always worshipped that he made himself into a rom-com character his boyfriends could project a Happily Ever After onto.
That’s so pathetic that it makes him want to rush out to the quirkiest possible neighborhood in New York and buy a bunch of really crazy stuff to showcase his personality, which… is really not crazy. Oh god, is he the human equivalent of a dentist’s waiting room? Is that why Jonah wasn’t satisfied with his asshole and went looking for it elsewhere?
Okay. Wow. Okay. He’s totally spiraling because Tad’s on his way.
But seriously. He should have a plant or something. Not one of those potted palms you always see in dentist’s offices, god.
He sucks in a deep breath and tells himself to calm down. Then he says it out loud: “Calm down.”
The buzzer shrills like a reply. Lewis jumps and hurries over to it, his heart in his throat and his palms sweaty. “Hello?”
A tinny voice comes out of the speaker. “Hi, Lewis? I mean, oh my god, hi. Lewis. It’s Tad.”
Lewis buzzed him in within two syllables, but he has to remember to say, “Yep! Yes! Come in!”
Tad’s voice gets muffled. “No, just—yeah, can you get it? Thanks.” Lewis furrows his brow, and Tad’s voice comes back louder. “Okay, be up in a minute!”
Sweat prickles under Lewis’s arms and on his back and shit it’s too late to change, isn’t it?
There’s a knock on the door. When he reaches for the doorknob, his hand feels like it isn’t attached to his body.
The door swings open. Tad’s standing there, holding a boombox on one shoulder and a stack of card stock under the other arm.
Tad fumbles with the boombox and Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” starts. He shakily holds it up over his head with one hand, where it teeters. Before it topples, Tad catches it, which sends the stack of card stock tumbling to the floor.
“This was so much smoother in my head,” Tad groans.
“Here, give me that!” someone else says. Walt darts forward and takes the boombox, sidles behind Tad, and lifts it above his head. Tad scoops up the cards and holds them so Lewis can read them.
“I hate the way you talk to me and how you make me so aware,” Lewis reads. Tad flips to the next card. “I hate the way you drive rental cars, I hate it when you stare.” Next card. “I hate your big gay Pride sneakers and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme. I hate the way you’re always right, I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry —oh my god! Ten Things I Hate About You! And Say Anything and Love, Actually! ”
With a huge whoosh, Tad drops the cue cards. “I’m just a boy, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love him.”
There’s this feeling in Lewis’s chest, like the way flocks of birds swell and contract in fluid murmurations of air and wings and connection that doesn’t make any sense from the outside. “You did a FrankenGesture for me,” he says, his heart thrumming.
Tad’s fingers twist together. “I’m so sorry for yesterday. I got scared about my issues. And baggage. I got scared it would be too much for you, maybe not now, but later, when you realize I’m not Heath Ledger or Tom Hanks or something.”
“You’re way better looking than Heath Ledger or Tom—not the point, right.”
Walt adjusts the volume on the boombox and Peter Gabriel fades to a soft serenade. There’s a nervous look on Tad’s face. “I’m not the perfect guy from a rom-com. But god, Lewis, I love you so much, and if you can forgive me for being a complete asshole yesterday, then—”
Lewis steps forward, puts his hands on Tad’s face, and kisses him.
Tad makes a noise and his mouth opens, and Lewis sinks into it, the brush of tongue on tongue and the taste of Tad—tea and mint and home.
“I signed the divorce papers,” Lewis says.
“This is the weirdest apology ever,” Walt opines from the peanut gallery.
Before Tad can respond, Lewis kisses him again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like I was pushing you into something. I’m sorry I went back on what we agreed. I’m sorry for treating you like a character in a rom-com and not a real person with flaws and issues, who I’m definitely going to have fights with because real people in real relationships fight, even when they love each other more than they thought was possible. Which, just, you know. Is how I feel about you, so.”
For good measure, Lewis kisses Tad again, and this time, Tad fists the front of his shirt and hauls him closer. There are definitely some conversations to have but. This . Tad and him.
This is right. This is perfect. Not rom-com perfect, but perfect in a real-life way that matters, that works, that Lewis knows he’ll fight for and protect forever. He knows what special looks like, because he’s been searching for it for so long.
“In Your Eyes” ends and starts over. Tad buries his face in Lewis’s neck and murmurs, “Love you.”
So really, what is Lewis supposed to do but press his face to the side of Tad’s, breathe in his scent, and murmur back, “Love you too.”
Walt clears his throat. “Soooo hey, it seems like you’ve got this, bro. I can get going and leave you guys to it.” Walt’s beaming. Lewis is so fucking happy that whatever happens with Tad’s parents, his brother is in his corner. There’s someone in Tad’s family who loves him for who he is. “You want me to drop the boombox at your apartment before I get on the road?”
It occurs to Lewis that he’s never seen a boombox in Tad’s apartment. “Wait, did you buy a boombox just for this?”
“And a CD!” Tad’s face is flushed with happiness and Lewis could spend his life mapping the constellations of his freckles and how joy dawns like sunrise in his eyes. “I love New York. You can find anything. Also, Lewis! Did you know there’s a movie about two people who get drunk married in Vegas?”
Lewis laughs and pulls Tad to him again.