Rewind Boxed Set

by Rowan Shaw

  I was glad no one was in the apartment when I exited the bathroom. Adrien was working at his art studio, and Raphaël was spending the last day of the semester at ENSA, his architecture school, before his winter break. I relished the peace of not having to deal with the constant pity looks.

  I hadn't made a single YouTube video since the breakup, and I couldn't afford to fall off the radar. Since I was one of the very few French YouTubers who had come out as bisexual, I'd dedicated my whole channel to being bi.

  My fans had quickly noticed my absence, and because I'd avoided social media as well, I'd already received hundreds of messages on all my accounts, asking where I was and when the next video would be up.

  I always did my best to keep an uplifting vibe on my channel, but I'd have to be real this time. I wasn't going to lie and pretend I was elated when I felt like everything was crashing down on me. After opening my laptop and logging on to my social media, I read a few comments some people had posted the night before.

  GiGi: Where are you, man? I miss your sweet baby face.

  EnvieDToi: You haven't answered my DM. Where are you?

  MortDoc: You make our community look bad. Your videos are shit. As a bisexual, you should know better.

  PutainTaMaire: I hope you finally died or dropped off the surface of the Earth, faggot.

  I rolled my eyes. I got hateful messages all the time. They used to hurt and bring me down, but I just felt blasé about it all at this point. Especially when the messages came from some dudes like this one who couldn't even spell the word "mother." The bad thing about being famous was it made me an easy target for all the sociopaths out there. It was cowardly of them to take shots at a complete stranger, but many faceless assholes felt powerful behind their anonymous screen names and avatars. I felt almost bad for them that hating on other people seemed to be their main hobby in life. I shrugged and just blocked the one guy along with ten others whose comments were as ignorant as they were vile. Then I decided to reply to MortDoc and give him a piece of my mind.

  NoahLeBi: Good for you that you want to stifle your true self just to please a bunch of strangers, but some of us are just trying to live our lives. I'd advise you do the same.

  He responded almost immediately. This was either a coincidence, or he truly didn't have a life.

  MortDoc: I hope you burn to the highest degree!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Sociopaths really were infesting the Internet, geez. It was like they were breeding or something. And what was up with all the exclamation points?

  NoahLeBi: With members like you, the bi community sure doesn't need enemies.

  I blocked his ass before he could respond. I barely had time to reply to my fans as it was, let alone deal with hateful trolls. I wasn't in the mood anyway. I knew I'd better leave the apartment lest morosity rain on me like a cloud. I could feel the storm coming already.

  I shut down my laptop and grabbed my trench coat on my way out. The cold wind hit my face the moment I stepped into the street. Adrien's building was located in a neighborhood filled with small shops and trees that were now bare of all leaves. As I walked along the busier roads, I looked into the windows, all of them decorated for the holidays, and I buttoned my coat all the way up, pulling its collar around my neck.

  The sky was gray, but it was too cold for snow. The merry lights and festive colors from the Christmas displays clashed drastically with my general mood and the gathering clouds as I made my way to the closest bookstore.

  Raphaël had so many books, I didn't know where to start, so I settled for a gift card. It wasn't original, but it was the best I could come up with. Getting art supplies for Adrien would be easier. I decided to make a video and took out my phone, then talked into the camera, explaining what I was up to as I filmed some of the shops and bakeries I was passing by.

  When a group of young women shouted my name, they startled me so much, I jumped back. I was used to my fans coming up to me when I was out and about. I loved interacting with them, but I had to force a smile on my face today. There were three of them scurrying toward me.

  "Can we take a selfie?" the blonde one asked as soon as she reached my level. She grabbed my waist before I could even answer and pulled out her phone, its flash blinding me.

  The short one with brown hair and light skin joined us next to take more pictures. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek without asking as the flash came on.

  "When's your next video coming out?" she asked, smiling at me. "Are you going to talk about your best threesomes again? That video was hot!"

  I forced another smile I didn't feel. I didn't care much for being fetishized. Sadly, it came with the job. If my videos could help just one bisexual out there, I'd take all the fetishizing in the world to make that happen.

  "In a few days," I told her.

  She beamed like Christmas was already here and took more pictures without asking for my permission. Not once did she wonder how I was feeling today. Some of my fans truly didn't care. They just wanted to be entertained, which meant I couldn't always be real on camera even when my life turned to shit.

  I gave one last wan smile and left as quickly as I could, only to be stopped one street ahead by yet another woman shouting my name. I inhaled deeply, reminding myself that my fans loved me, which was always better than people wanting me dead. I turned toward the voice and saw a gorgeous female walking up to me before she grabbed my shoulders and kissed my cheeks.

  "Hi, Noah." She laughed at my confusion and pointed at her chest. "It's me, Charlotte, Raphaël's friend from the New Year's party last year."

  I narrowed my eyes until recognition clicked. How could I have forgotten her? Charlotte was such a vibrant, lovely person. She was drop-dead gorgeous at that. She had the most beautiful features—Vietnamese, from what Raphaël once told me—and naturally tanned skin with eyes as dark as coal. She was taller than me, except for today when I towered over her with my platform boots. Her auburn hair was much shorter than I remembered, styled in a cute pixie cut.

  I stared at her, still wondering how I could have forgotten her. "Charlotte, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you."

  "Is this a bad time?" she asked as if sensing my mood. I didn't know if she meant a bad time to interact or a bad time in my life.

  "How have you been?" I asked to deflect her question.

  "Great. But I need to hurry. I have a train to catch. I'm going to Lille to visit my parents for the holidays. How about you?"

  I didn't feel like talking about me. "Aren't you supposed to be at ENSA? I thought you and Raphaël had some conferences today."

  "We had one this morning, yes. But it ended at ten." She looked at my phone. "Still making YouTube videos, huh?"

  "Yes, well, it is my job after all," I replied with a fake smile.

  "Right. You'll have to give me your screen name. I've never watched any. Oh and Raphaël invited me over for New Year's again. Will you be there?"

  Her enthusiasm was almost contagious—the keyword being "almost."

  "I will." I doubted I'd find an apartment that quickly; I would probably still be living with the guys at that point. The thought of that weighed heavily on my heart. I didn't even know how to repay them for their hospitality, and I'd been too busy wallowing in my own grief to start searching for a place of my own.

  "Well, I'd better run," Charlotte said and kissed my cheeks, her soft skin rubbing against mine. "I'll see you then."

  She waved as she left me there, and I watched her walk away, pulling her suitcase behind her, before I entered the art store and perused the shelves for something to get Adrien. I knew he went through his charcoal supplies more quickly than he had time to look for refills, so hopefully, the gift would please him well enough.

  Chapter 6

  NOAH

  It didn't take long to get all the presents and return to the apartment. I'd decided to start a new video taking hits at my trolls since Adrien had messaged me thirty minutes ago saying Raphaël was with him at the gallery
. They'd be staying past its usual closing hour to meet with an art dealer, which left a little while before they'd come home.

  I was still talking into the microphone when someone rang the doorbell right in the middle of my rant. I considered not checking the door, but the insistent ringing forced me to my feet. I dragged myself to the foyer and sneaked a peek through the peephole. Relief filled me upon seeing my best friend Nour standing in the hallway, looking all around her. As soon as I opened to her, she bent down to kiss me on the cheeks, her presence the one soothing medicine I needed.

  Nour was a gorgeous transgender woman from Algeria. Standing over me in her high heels and slim striped gray suit including a blazer, pants, and a vest over her white button-down shirt, she ran her eyes over my body, seemingly unimpressed. The harsh winter hadn't etiolated the beautiful shade of her dark olive skin, and she had pulled her brown hair into a high ponytail long enough that it fell down below her shoulders. She studied me with her piercing dark gaze, her perfect eyebrows puckered into a frown, before she batted her eyelashes, the length of which rivaled my own.

  "How have you been?" she asked, not hiding her concern.

  "I'm doing great, thank you," I lied and feigned a smile.

  She took another suspicious look at me, probably not believing a single word I said, but my grin spread until she gave a satisfied nod and took off her shoes. She tailed me to the living room, where I invited her to join me on the couch. Her eyes ran over Adrien's erotic art almost instantly.

  "So it's all true, then. Adrien does draw pornographic stuff."

  I swallowed a snort. "It's not porn, and I like it."

  "Of course you would," she commented with a tiny smirk.

  "Whatever does that mean?" I asked.

  "I think you know."

  Ignoring her teasing, I asked her if she wanted anything to drink.

  "Some coffee, please."

  "You want an espresso or a regular coffee?"

  "Regular." She shrugged off her jacket and extended her endless legs over the coffee table, lounging in the sofa like she owned the place.

  "What have you been up to?" I shouted as I proceeded to the kitchen to brew our drinks.

  "There's been a lot of drama at the LGBT Center."

  "Really?" I rifled through the cabinets for some cookies and took out a pack of Petit écolier, then poured the ground coffee in the machine, filled the top with water, and waited for the liquid to drip.

  "Yeah, remember that guy Quentin?" she called from the living room.

  "The tall guy with the breathtaking smile?" I shouted back.

  "Yeah, him. What an asshole!"

  "Really? He seemed so nice when I met him."

  "Don't let him fool you. That smile is just a façade."

  When the coffee was done, I brought the pot to her on a tray along with sugar cubes.

  "You know I don't eat those," she protested when she saw the cookies spread on a plate as I sat on the couch beside her.

  "Can you stop worrying about your weight for once?"

  She let out a long sigh. "Fine."

  "So what did Quentin do?" I changed the subject.

  "I'm not in on the entire drama, but apparently, he slept with Loïc."

  I raised both eyebrows. "Wait, they're like polar opposites."

  "Exactly. And Quentin knew Loïc was trans before they hooked up. But he started freaking out when they were done. He claims sleeping with Loïc made him question whether he's really gay or not. Loïc says he made Quentin come out of his mind—more than once. It seems Quentin didn't take too well to that."

  "Wow."

  "Yeah, so now there's this whole drama going on because Quentin's acting like Loïc isn't a man at all. I mean, he shouldn't have slept with Loïc if he didn't want to. No one held a gun to his head, you know? And now, the LGBT Center doesn't know what to do because Loïc is part of the staff, but we don't want to close the door to Quentin either. It gets super awkward any time Quentin comes over and there's a trans person on staff."

  "I bet." I grabbed the coffee pot and poured us both a cup, then dropped three sugar cubes in mine. Nour drank hers black.

  "So that's been my life for the past two weeks. Things at work have been the same as usual. But after dealing with sick kids at the hospital all day, I don't have the energy for all that bullshit at the LGBT Center." She grabbed my hand when I took a sip of my coffee. "How about you? Are you sure you're okay? You don't need to pretend around me."

  "I'm okay." At this point, I couldn't tell if that was a lie or not anymore. Every day, I hovered between complete sadness and a renewed sense of autonomy. "I think what aggravates me the most is all those years I missed out on."

  She squeezed my fingers. "Well, you're free now. You can experiment and have fun with whomever you want, whenever you want. You know they all want you."

  My smile filled with melancholia. "No, they don't."

  "Yes, they do."

  I looked at her intently. "I'm too femme for some gay men. I'm too femme for some women, too. It's not as easy as you make it sound."

  "It only helps weed out the ones who don't deserve you. Trust me, I would know. Many straight men don't want me. But you know what? I'm great in bed. So it's their loss."

  Only Nour could make me laugh when I was feeling so low.

  "Are you with someone these days?" I asked as she took a sip.

  "Nope. I was seeing that cis woman for a while, but it didn't work out."

  "Why not?"

  She looked at me from over her cup of coffee. "She said she wanted a family."

  "I don't get it. Queers can have families."

  "She wanted a family with a cis man so she could pass as straight."

  "Ah."

  "Yeah." She made a face and rolled her eyes.

  "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

  She shrugged. "It was mostly sex between us. That's why I didn't try to keep her."

  I handed her the plate of Petit écolier and insisted until she took one reluctantly and bit into it with the tips of her teeth like the cookie might bite back. Without a word, she stared at me while nibbling on it until I couldn't take the silence anymore and asked her what the problem was.

  "I saw some pictures... I didn't know if I should tell you, but I'm worried he might ask you to come back when it all falls apart."

  I didn't need to ask who she was talking about. "What kind of pictures?"

  She patted my hand and bit her lip. "It's all tabloid junk, you know."

  "What were the pics about?" I insisted.

  She sucked on her teeth. "Pictures of Hugo and his douche shopping for Christmas."

  I didn't know it was possible for my heart to hurt any more than it already did, but a deep ache pinched the insides of my chest. I blinked against renewing tears and had to look away when one of them managed to escape.

  "I wanted you to hear it from me rather than see it for yourself when scrolling through the Internet. There's a whole lot of drama surrounding them because the actor's married and blah blah blah."

  I nodded, still not looking at her. So the whole story was out already? That sure didn't take long. I wondered how the whole affair would affect the actor's career, with him being closeted and all. A vindictive part of me hoped he would crash and burn.

  "Why did you say he might come back to me?" I asked. "They're going shopping in the open. It's obvious they're in love."

  "Your ex might be in love, but there've been rumors that Hugo isn't the only man the actor is seeing. It was in the same article."

  I whipped my head toward her, my eyebrows creasing. "Are they in an open relationship? I thought Hugo wanted something different."

  Nour couldn't hide her disdainful smile. "I never said Hugo knew about the other guy."

  I was aware of Nour's dislike for Hugo, but I never imagined she might hate him to the point of rejoicing over his pain.

  "The actor's cheating on Hugo?"

  "Seems like it," she replied in a
sing-song voice that concealed none of her elation.

  "Wow." I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a tinge of satisfaction.

  "You need to be strong." She squeezed my hand harder. "Hugo will find out eventually. When he does, he might try to get you back. Don't cave in."

  I blinked. It was awful, but a part of me wanted him to come back to me. I wanted to watch him crawl and plead with me to take him back just so I could reject him the same way he'd ignored me when I begged him so pathetically not to leave me.

  "You still miss him?" she asked.

  Sadly, I did. Terribly. There were things about Hugo I could barely deal with by the end of our relationship: his lack of sweetness, his reluctance to show me tender affection, his brusque movements in bed. But there were things people didn't know about him, things I still cared about. Like when he would bring me breakfast in bed before teasing me until I begged for sex. Or when he'd take me shopping even though he hated it. How he never complained even when it took us hours to tour all my favorite stores. How he loved that I was more effeminate than most males we slept with. And there was that broken part of him, those things he'd never told anyone but me after his dad died in a car crash. I was there the day Hugo got the news at barely nineteen.

  His father was the sperm donor his moms had needed to have a child of their own, but he was a friend of theirs too. He'd been involved in Hugo's upbringing until his death. Hugo hadn't cried in front of anyone but me that day. There'd been a vulnerable side to him since then that nobody knew about, a side that only I could see because I knew to look through the cracks.

  I missed the consistency of having him in my life, of believing there would always be someone there for me no matter what. But getting back together was no longer an option. I knew that.

  "I don't..." I sighed. "I won't take him back."

  "Even if he comes to your door, pleading and crying."

  I let out a huff. "Hugo doesn't cry."

  Except for that day his father died and Hugo broke down in my arms, he never shed another tear in front of anyone, including me.

  "All men cry," she replied. "Maybe not in public. But men are human too. And when he realizes he's lost you over some double-crossing jerk, he will cry. Trust me."