Chapter 6 #7
Joshua was going to throw up. He would open his mouth to answer the first question—Good evening, how are you?—and instead of words, his breakfast would hit the floor. It would be an excruciatingly dreadful experience for everyone involved.
Setting one foot in front of the other, he did his best to block out the hectic buzz of activity, people swarming around them, his mother addressing someone in a clear, sharp voice. Emma’s arm was linked through his and he tried to focus on that. Left foot. Right foot.
“Baby, are you all right?” Warm concern, and Joshua needed a moment to understand that it had been his mum, a question directed at him, and fuck, he was so far from all right that there were continents, entire universes, that set him apart.
He swallowed around the bile rising to the back of his throat and managed a nod. “Just need a second to—I’ll be right back, please excuse me. I’ll be—gents. Right back.”
With that, he unwound himself and turned, took quick steps for the exit, keep your shoulders straight and your head high, you look up to no one. He thought there might be someone calling after him, but it merely prompted him to pick up the pace.
He made it out of the room, rounded a corner, leaned his back against the wall. Blessed quiet surrounded him. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes.
Breathe.
Huge, gulping intakes of air. Exhaling in a rush.
Repeat.
An unexpected touch to his shoulder made him jump.
“Joshua,” Leo said, “Princeling,” and then he drew him in for a rough embrace that shocked a gasp out of Joshua. “Hey,” Leo murmured, quiet now, right by Joshua’s ear. “Hey, hi, breathe. Breathe with me.”
“I—” Joshua coughed. His ribs were pressing down on his lungs, and the backs of his lids were drenched in red. “I can’t. Leo, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Leo sounded so confident, and where did he take that confidence from when he’d been there for Joshua’s practice runs, had heard him mess up and stumble over his own words? When he’d seen it all?
“I can’t,” Joshua repeated, and Leo was silent for a beat before he pulled back. Both his hands remained on Joshua’s shoulders, heavy through the fabric of his suit, heavy like expectations, heavy like disappointment. Joshua refused to open his eyes.
“Josh.” Leo’s tone was imploring. “Look at me.”
Squeezing his lids shut, Joshua shook his head.
“Joshua.” This time it came out as a command, and it only made Joshua take a blind step back and collide with the wall, still shaking his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t, could not.
“I can’t.”
For a moment Leo’s grip loosened, and Joshua thought that he’d leave, that he would walk away from this pathetic mess.
Leo had been right all along: Joshua didn’t deserve any of the privileges life had thrown his way, not when he couldn’t even hold himself together long enough to be honest for once.
Then Leo crowded right back into Joshua’s space. Their bodies pressed together from head to hip to toe, the leather of Leo’s jacket whispering over Joshua’s skin. Joshua’s thoughts stuttered to a halt.
“Joshua. Josh.” It came out soft, reverent.
Leo slid one of his hands underneath Joshua’s suit jacket, his palm flat against the small of his back.
Bringing them even closer. “Don’t do this.
Don’t bring yourself down. You’re lovely, okay?
You’re so, so lovely, and I just—you can do this.
I know you can, because I’ve seen you. Take that fear and shove it where the sun don’t shine, okay?
Or”—his hand was rucking up the back of Joshua’s dress shirt—“wear it like a crown.”
Joshua’s stomach swelled with a deep breath. He didn’t dare move. With his eyes still shut against the world, there was no way to escape Leo’s warmth, the faint whiff of his cologne, the damp brush of his lips over Joshua’s jaw.
Blinking, it took Joshua a few seconds to bring Leo’s face into focus. They were so close that Leo’s features seemed blurred. “What do you—Leo?”
Leo was staring back at Joshua with a strange kind of intensity, holding himself perfectly still.
So close, God, and Joshua was desperately aware of all the places where they were touching, heat radiating outwards from Leo’s hand against his back, shivering through his veins.
Somewhere far, far away, a voice was calling Joshua’s name.
Leo startled. His gaze flicked away, then back to Joshua. Eyes wide, it was as though his expression had broken open, a desperate edge to his whisper. “I really want to kiss you.”
Oh God.
Oh God.
Before Joshua could find words or even just his voice, before he could so much as move, Leo had wrenched himself away. Two feet of space suddenly gaped between them, and it felt like a mile.
Joshua was about to reach for him—please, please, yes—but Leo had already taken another step back.
Then Emma barrelled around the corner, aubergine hair streaking behind her.
She nearly collided with Leo, spared him an absent, “Sorry, excuse me,” and was gripping Joshua’s shoulder by the time Leo nodded.
It turned out shaky, his gaze linked with Joshua’s for another instant before he looked away.
“It’s showtime, Shrimp,” Emma announced, and—wait. Shit. The interview. Joshua had just about forgotten.
He did want to go through with it. And he would.
Finding Emma’s eyes, Joshua worked up a grin, or something that should pass for a grin anyway. Showtime. “Okay. Let’s do this, then?”
“Let’s do this,” she confirmed, tugging him into motion. By the time Joshua remembered how to move, Leo was already several steps ahead, his spine straight, his shoulders stiff. He did glance back over his shoulder, though, and when he did, it was to direct a reassuring smile at Joshua.
It was enough for Joshua’s chest to loosen.
You can do this.
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