Third One

by Roe Horvat

  Third One

  Those Other Books

  Roe Horvat

  Contents

  Warning

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  Bonus chapter

  About the Author

  By the Author

  Third One

  First edition

  Published 2020 by Roe Horvat

  Copyright © 2020 Roe Horvat

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, without express written permission.

  The licensed art material is being used for illustrative purposes only.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments is coincidental.

  Cover art by Roe Horvat, 2020.

  Edited by Amy Leibowitz Mitchell, 2020.

  Blurb

  It could have been just an innocent crush. Something guiltless and fleeting. But Luke spends every day with Marcus; they talk, touch and dance together, they create and perform together. They know each other inside out. As a consequence, Luke has been in love with his very much taken choreographer for five years. Seeing Marcus and his partner Liam together has become increasingly painful, and Luke needs to leave. His dancing career is nearing an end anyway. He will start the university, reinvent himself, forget Marcus and find happiness elsewhere.

  Except Marcus loves him back. And Liam knows. Liam’s dark eyes and his imposing silhouette begin haunting Luke’s dreams. Drowning in both lust and sadness, Luke is swept into a passionate triangle with two men who couldn’t be more different. Suddenly, instead of fear or caution, there’s just mind-numbing desire for more.

  Warning

  The following text is a gay polyamorous romance. The book contains explicit scenes, adult language, same-sex intercourse and sexual interactions between more than two partners.

  Intended for adult readers only.

  Acknowledgments

  Amy, thank you for your patience, expertise and support. Tanja, I am forever grateful for your eagle eye, quick mind and kindness. Alex, thank you for reading everything, every time. And thank you for yelling.

  I owe my deepest gratitude to every kind, generous person who invested their energy into beta-reading, editing and proofreading this story, and who listened to my whines with endless patience. I wouldn’t get anywhere without you. Each and every one of you who reads, writes, publishes, promotes, and supports LGBTQ+ stories, thank you!

  One

  Liam

  This time, Liam was genuinely worried he wouldn’t make it to the theater on time. The board of advisors had grilled him for hours, asking identical questions over and over. Maybe they hoped they’d catch him lying if they asked the same thing enough times. But he was right, and they were wrong, and he’d won in the end.

  Except now he was late.

  The rain had just begun when he swung into the parking lot and stopped in the first empty slot he saw. Opening the door only enough so he could climb out, he managed to avoid scratching the neighboring silver Volvo. The cold drizzle on his face was pleasant; a splash of realism after a day spent in sterile conference rooms. He ran up the stairs and nodded at the boy in the cashier booth. He didn’t need a ticket. Liam Andrén was well known here.

  “Good evening, Liam!” the boy called. “You’re on time. They’re just starting!”

  “Thank you, Jonas.”

  Liam’s wet shoes squeaked on the polished floors as he ran down the broad stairs along the curved auditorium wall and pushed the last double door open just enough to squeeze through. The theater was dark and the audience silent in anticipation. He slid into his seat at the very end of the first row just as the music swelled. Making sure his phone was on airplane mode, he slid it into his jacket pocket and leaned back, exhaling in relief.

  Marcus was rightfully proud of this piece. The choreography was built on contrasts: rich colors of the costumes against a black scene, a tumbling crowd making space for a single soloist, booming basses, and the thin, weeping voice of a violin. It was brilliant. And Adam, dear muses and demons, the boy was pure gold. All in white, he cut through the scene, bold, dangerous, and breathtakingly beautiful.

  However, Adam wasn’t the only male soloist in the show. Toward the end, when the music had turned low and dark, with broken tones, discomforting, the man in black appeared. Liam had anticipated the man; Marcus had told him in many long passionate monologues about the dancer in black in this particular show. Liam had expected it, but sitting there in the dark, tenderized by the previous scenes, tired and unusually emotional… he was hit by the scene right into the solar plexus, as if the dancer expelled a power field from within his lithe body.

  Conscience, fear, sadness. The mundane and necessary things in life, the burdens—they fell on Liam like a pile of bricks. It wasn’t the beauty or fearlessness that gripped Liam about this man’s performance; it was the subtlety. How could a dancer convey nothingness? How could anyone act out emptiness? But this man could. Genius. Terrifying.

  Liam recognized him. Of course, he did. The other dancer. Luke, the tall one with the sad blue eyes, who had tried so hard to stay invisible whenever Liam had come closer.

  “You love him, don’t you?” Liam said. His voice sounded hollow in his own ears.

  Marcus nodded, hiding his face in Liam’s chest.

  “And he’s in love with you,” Liam continued.

  “He thinks it’s wrong,” Marcus whispered.

  Liam held him. He waited for the hurt to come. The jealousy. But it never did. Only sadness.

  After the show, Liam joined the ensemble and excited admirers in the foyer. The joy among the crowd surprised him. Wasn’t there supposed to be more humility? Some kind of hush or fearfulness after a performance like that? Was he the only one questioning the purpose of his own life after the dancer in black squeezed the blood from his heart like juice from a lemon?

  But Marcus was beaming with victory. Liam spotted him in the crowd easily despite his partner’s short frame. The dark head of unruly curls kept appearing and disappearing, then shining green eyes zeroed in on Liam’s as Marcus moved through the bodies.

  “You made it!” Marcus’s wide smile was infectious. He radiated energy, just as he always had after a success like tonight. His cheeks were flushed, a statement against his pale skin.

  “Came in just as you started,” Liam said.

  “I only saw the empty chair at the end of the row before. So glad you came.” Marcus wrapped his arms around Liam’s neck and kissed his jaw briefly. “Thank you,” he murmured, barely audible over the ruckus in the foyer.

  “No reason to thank me. If it were up to me, I’d never miss a single show.”

  Marcus kissed his cheek again, stretching on tiptoes. Liam swiped his palms down Marcus’s sides, the thin muscles vibrating under his hands. He chuckled. It seemed Marcus was about to burst out of his own skin.

  “Go and mingle. I’ll be here when you want to go home,” Liam said.

  Marcus hummed into his ear and squeezed his neck.

  Just then, Liam caught Luke’s eyes from across the room. An accidental meeting, or maybe not. With Marcus in his arms, Liam was caught off guard by Luke’s intense gaze. Some might find envy or even hatred in Luke’s distant face,
but Liam knew better. Luke wasn’t that simple. Still in black, just a jacket over his costume, he stood out from the crowd, bright blond hair shining, icy blue gaze magnetic. Or maybe it was Liam who always saw Luke more than he saw any of the other dancers.

  Luke averted his eyes, and the crowd soon swallowed him.

  As soon as Marcus stepped away, two women in their fifties approached him with glasses of champagne. Liam let him be. Premieres were always like this—throngs of people trying to get a piece of Marcus and Adam. Over the countless heads, Liam exchanged a look with Christoffer, and the burly man lifted his glass in silent acknowledgment. Yeah, their boys were famous. Oh, well. Things would calm down in an hour, and he’d be able to talk to Marcus in peace again.

  He turned around, and on instinct, he searched for the blond man in the dark suit jacket. But Luke was nowhere to be found. Liam decided he needed a refill. He was slowly coming back to himself after the turmoil of the show, finding his feet again. That was the purpose of these performances after all—to unsettle for a moment so people would come back to their lives a little altered for a short while before the everyday things washed them gray again.

  He pushed through the bodies and reached the bar counter, gratefully accepting another glass of white wine. Protecting it, he walked toward the pillars by the grand staircase, hoping there might be more breathing space farther away from the bar. Except when he turned around the first pillar, he saw Luke standing there, leaning against the wall, a half-empty beer bottle between his long, graceful fingers.

  The man winced when he spotted Liam.

  Feeling out of sorts, Liam tried to smile.

  “You were fantastic tonight,” he said. “Congratulations on the premiere.”

  “Thank you,” Luke replied coldly and took a swig of his beer.

  “Marcus told me all about the show. But seeing you in the end… It was powerful. It feels wrong to mingle and chatter and sip wine after witnessing something so profound.”

  The dancer looked away, and the corners of his pretty mouth turned down. He nodded, acknowledging Liam’s praise, but he remained quiet.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Liam said. “I was just looking for a place to hide away for a while.”

  Luke smirked bitterly and raised his lovely blue eyes to meet Liam’s. “There’s nowhere to hide,” he said.

  And inside Liam, some latch clicked. Something opened, a new realm, as if a gust of fresh breeze blew through the stuffy halls of the old musical theater. Liam stared into those piercing, tragic blue eyes, and he thought of Marcus. He’d always understood the love. But now he could feel it. He could almost taste it and touch it.

  The other dancer dropped his gaze.

  Liam could only stand there and watch as Luke pushed off the wall and turned away, disappearing in the writhing crowd.

  Two

  Luke

  It had been the water bottle. PET, one liter and a half, still, transparent with a blue cap, half-empty. Luke remembered Xiou drinking from it during the last break. Somehow, the man left it on stage by the edge, close to the right-side stairs.

  Luke saw the bottle roll, the liquid splashing, before he noticed Marcus falling. It was absurd how inadequate the human brain was in a real crisis. Luke had been close enough to catch Marcus’s arm had he reacted half a second earlier. But he didn’t see the moment Marcus stumbled; he didn’t see the fall coming. Stupid. Fucking. PET bottle.

  Next he knew, he was lodged in the first row by the steep stairs, helplessly petting Marcus’s bleeding head. The wild, dark curls stuck to Marcus’s temple as the blood clotted. It was hard to judge how wide or deep the cut was. Luke knew enough not to move Marcus. The instructions from the 112 operator were all unsurprising information, but he appreciated to have it confirmed that he was doing things right. His two introductory courses from Uni were not completely worthless. Don’t move him. Check his breathing. Don’t let him choke. Wait. Stay calm. Use a towel or your shirt to stop the bleeding.

  “Oh my god! Have you called the ambulance?” the night guard exclaimed when he shuffled into the room, probably checking what was taking so long.

  “I’m talking to 112 now. They’re on their way. Go open the door for them!”

  “Oh! Sure! Sure.”

  The uniformed man pivoted and rushed back to the exit in the back of the auditorium, the fastest route out and to the main entrance. The random gadgets and keys on his belt jiggled, creating an awful clinking noise as he ran.

  Marcus’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Luke?”

  Yes! Luke all but melted with relief. Marcus barely whispered his name, but he was regaining consciousness after only a few minutes, and that must have been a good thing.

  “He’s awake,” Luke mumbled into the phone.

  “Great. The ambulance is three minutes away from you.” The operator’s voice sounded brighter now.

  “Hi, boss,” Luke said. “Stay still, okay? You fell and hit your head. Help’s on the way. Just stay still.”

  Marcus’s eyes flitted around, but Luke didn’t manage to catch his gaze. Concussion.

  “Luke…”

  “Yes. I’m here. I called the ambulance. You’re fine.”

  “You quit,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.”

  “You told me you quit.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Luke.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Shit, it hurts.”

  “Yeah, you fell and hit your head. Stay still. Help is coming. Stay still.”

  “You quit,” Marcus repeated and groaned softly, pain warping his features.

  Well, fuck.

  It seemed unimportant now.

  “You’ll be fine. Help’s coming.”

  “Luke…”

  “I’m here.”

  “Don’t leave me.”

  “He’s confused,” Luke said quietly into the phone.

  “Sir, the ambulance is there. They’ll know what to do. You did great calling us and staying calm. I’m ending the call, okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Good luck.”

  The paramedics strapped Marcus to the stretcher, covered the side of his head with a temporary bandage, and fitted his neck in a plastic collar.

  “Luke?”

  “Yes. I’m here.”

  They let Luke ride in the ambulance. He kept asking questions, but the paramedic who rode with him in the back was unspecific, some of her answers right out disturbing.

  “It looks like a serious concussion. He might get nauseous on the way. In case you are sensitive, there are sick bags in the holder behind you.”

  Jesus.

  “A few stitches. The next forty-eight hours will show if there is anything else to worry about. We need to make sure there is no subdural hematoma or spinal injury.”

  Spinal injury.

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  “A hematoma?”

  “Bleeding between the brain and the membrane that covers it. It’s standard procedure. They’ll monitor him for a day or two.”

  “Luke?” Marcus croaked again.

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “Where’s Liam?”

  “I’ll call him. We’ll be at the hospital soon. I’ll call Liam.”

  “Luke?”

  “It’s okay, sir. Your friend is here. We’re on our way to the ER. You have a concussion, but we got you. You will be fine.”

  The waiting room didn’t have any empty seats left. Luke was in no mood to sit and rest anyway. He leaned against the pale green wall by the vending machine and pulled out his phone. He’d already copied the number from Marcus’s phone before. He scrolled through the contact list, and the device shook in his hand. He took a deep breath in a weak attempt to calm himself. Liam answered on the third ring.

  “Andrén.” Just one word, Liam’s last name, and Luke was intimidated.

  “Hi. It’s Luke.”

  A paus
e. “Luke?”

  “Yes. I work with Marcus.”

  “I know who you are.” Suspicion. Yes, Liam knew all about Luke. Marcus had been so kind as to explain to his partner about Luke’s ill-advised infatuation. The humiliation threatened to rob Luke of his last scraps of composure, but he was also aware of his priorities. Today wasn’t about him and his stupid issues. He had to hurry with the explanation because Marcus needed his partner.

  “We stayed late at the theater after practice. There has been an accident.”

  A sharp, crackling breath. Luke continued, not letting Liam form a question.

  “He fell from the stage into the auditorium and hit his head. He was unconscious for about three minutes. He is concussed. They are checking for the possibility of internal bleeding or spinal injury.”

  The next question came without hesitation. Liam didn’t waste time on emotional outbursts. “Did they tell you how probable it is?”

  “I don’t know… they… I don’t know.”

  “Did you speak to a doctor?”

  “No. Only the paramedic and a nurse.”

  “What exactly did they tell you, Luke?” Of course, Liam was impatient and frustrated. Luke couldn’t blame him. He felt quite useless himself.

  “The nurse said the monitoring for bleeding is standard procedure with every concussion.”

  “Good. Which hospital?”

  “We’re in Östra. ER.”

  “Stay there. I’m already on my way to the car. I’ll be there in twenty-five minutes. If anything changes, call me immediately.”