Star Bright

by Shelly Greene

  Julian stared at the bracelet, his breath steadying as his fingers traced it. After a moment, he leaned forward and kissed Rafi’s wrist, just outside the band of gold. Then he took Rafi’s other hand and placed it back between his legs. “Do it. I’m ready.”

  Rafi did as he was bid, prepared to stop again at the first hesitation—but there wasn’t one. Julian was very quiet, as lovers went, his responses subtle and restrained, but positive. Rafi collected every tiny gasp and shiver like jewels, and made sure Julian got off first, which he was pretty sure made him an outright hero. Not that he was far behind.

  He didn’t mean to fall asleep, had intended to make sure Julian was properly cuddled and secure, but the next thing he knew he was waking up.

  The room was dark, stars and moon glittering through the glass, and Julian was asleep, tangled up in his arms. They were under the blankets now, and a moment’s examination showed that Julian had cleaned them both up—whether out of consideration or fastidiousness, Rafi couldn’t guess, but saw as a virtue either way.

  He hadn’t set an alarm for the morning, Rafi realized, and he had yet another meeting with lawyers at ten. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from Julian and began poking through the piles of clothes on the floor.

  Julian jolted awake, eyes wide.

  “It’s just me, sorry,” Rafi said. “Looking for my phone, I have to set an alarm…”

  “Oh,” Julian said. “Yes, me too. I have a flight to California in the morning, for filming.”

  Rafi made a petulant, disappointed sound before he could stop himself. “When will you be back?”

  “I’m not sure. We’ll work something out.” Was he smiling? It was hard to tell. He’d gotten out of bed to join the hunt for cell phones, and that at least was a clear and lovely view in the moonlight.

  When both their phones were set and placed on either side of the bed, they crawled back into each other’s arms.

  “I’ve been thinking about your song,” Julian said. “The one that didn’t age well. I was thinking about how you need to change it.”

  Rafi groaned and put an arm over his eyes. “The problem goes down to the core of the song. If I’m going to change it that much, I might as well scrap it.”

  “No, no. You just need to change who it’s about.”

  Rafi peeked at him under his arm, wary. It was more than a little cheesy and on-the-nose to replace Bo with Julian as the ‘muse’ of the song, he didn’t think that was going to work—

  “You wrote it about missing Bo,” Julian said. “Who else do you miss?”

  Rafi shrugged. “My brother? That’s not any better.”

  Julian gave him a look, clearly reaching for patience. “Who else have you lost?”

  “This is some weird pillow talk, Jules.”

  “Indulge me,” Julian said, and looking at him, soft and sleep-mussed in the mostly-dark, Rafi could only think, Yes. Whatever you want.

  “My mother,” he said after a long minute.

  “Exactly,” Julian said, his voice gentler than usual. “Sing it for her instead. Most of the lyrics still work, if I’m remembering them right, and anyway it’s the feeling that matters more, isn’t it?”

  Rafi ran through it in his head, humming under his breath. The lyrics did still work—in some ways it actually made more sense, because his mother really was inside him, wasn’t she? In his blood, in his DNA. The bridge, especially—it actually stung, in a whole new way, thinking of the bridge in the context of his mother, whom he knew so little about…

  He got up and reached for the nearest guitar.

  “I didn’t mean to run you out of bed,” Julian said, raising an eyebrow.

  “No, this is good,” Rafi said. “Here, record me, will you? It’ll be a reference for later.” He unlocked his phone and tossed it to Julian.

  “Not much picture, in this lighting,” Julian said, looking at the screen and adjusting the position of the phone.

  “That’s fine, I just need the audio.” Rafi flicked a few notes on the guitar, hummed. Launched, experimentally, into the bridge.

  “I try for consolation

  In thinking of what you would say

  But my imagination

  Cannot replace, can’t see your face,

  I need to hear your footsteps, need you here…”

  And there it was. Life and feeling in the song—all kinds of feelings, so many moments of watching other children’s mothers fuss over them, wondering what his mom had been like—but old ones, feelings he was used to. He could sing about that without wanting to smash things. It worked.

  He went through the chorus, then started over at the beginning and sang the whole song. Julian, he realized, was swaying a little with the music, though the phone remained steady.

  “How was that?” Rafi asked when he was done, grinning, exhilarated.

  Julian smiled back, a soft gleam in the dark, as he put the phone away. “That was good.”

  Rafi set the guitar aside and bounced onto the bed. “That’s going to work, Julian. That was a great idea.”

  “I have a lot of great ideas,” Julian said. “Want to hear another?” And to Rafi’s delighted surprise, he climbed into Rafi’s lap and began kissing a line down his throat.

  “I mean, since we’re awake anyway,” Rafi murmured, hands wandering, “I guess I’m not opposed to indulging my insatiable boyfriend.”

  “Yes, I can see it’s a burden for you,” Julian said, rolling his hips against the evidence of Rafi’s interest.

  Giddy and eager, Rafi kissed his way down Julian’s body to its most important point—and despite his restrained responses, it was immediately obvious no one had ever given Julian his mouth before. Criminal, but Rafi was pleased to introduce him to the practice. Julian didn’t make a sound until the very end, but that one—high and desperate and finally unself-conscious—was worth the wait.

  Afterward, Julian tried to clean up again, but since his limbs weren’t working, Rafi laughed and pushed him back down while he handled it. They’d used protection again; Mother Moonwise would be proud.

  “You haven’t,” Julian said, “I mean, you’re still—and I’m not—I don’t do that, I’m not going to…do…”

  “Now I know exactly what it takes to scramble that tongue of yours,” Rafi said smugly, bending to kiss Julian’s stammering mouth. “Your hand will be fine. Honestly, any part of you would be fine.”

  And it was, fine and more than fine and wonderful.

  * * * *

  When Rafi woke again, his alarm hadn’t gone off yet; he was able to drift to consciousness like something pulled up through molasses. Early morning sun filled the room, but gently, curling around the edges of the building to reach them. Between wrestling, a bad fall, and last night’s exertions, his body ached, but the discomfort only amused him as he rose to visit the bathroom.

  On his return, he found that the fire-and-ivory form of Julian had rolled into the warm place Rafi left in the bed, face buried in Rafi’s pillow. The sight left Rafi smiling and stupid. He picked up his phone and took a picture. He’d delete it later if Julian wanted—but he hoped he could keep it. It would make a great lock screen.

  Crawling carefully back into bed, on what had been Julian’s side, Rafi caught sight of Julian’s phone on the nightstand. Curious to see how he was listed in Julian’s contacts—Julian was still in his as Pea Cock—Rafi texted him a heart emoji, and watched Julian’s screen light up.

  The contact picture was of a wolf, just like his own gala costume, and the name that popped up with it was “Fido.”

  Rafi struggled to contain his laughter enough not to wake Julian. He didn’t mean to unlock the phone, but hit something as he set it back down, and heard the sound of a photo being taken. Julian had one of those picture-taking security apps, apparently. Whoops. That was going to be awkward.

  He didn’t have time to burrow into the covers before his own phone began to ring in his hand. Hissing exasperated obscenities under his brea
th, Rafi left the bed and stepped into the bathroom to answer.

  Later, he would wonder why he answered at all, especially since it was an unknown number. At the time it just seemed the quickest way to shut up the ringtone. He seemed to make a lot of mistakes when it came to phones.

  “Hello?”

  “Rafi! I’m so glad I caught you,” said the familiar voice of an older man. “I’ve been trying to reach Julian, is he there with you?”

  Rafi frowned. “Is this Uncle Eddie?”

  “Didn’t put me into your phone, eh, even after our text conversation? Well, it’s of little import; I didn’t call to talk to you. I need to speak with my nephew.”

  “Well, sadly, you can’t.”

  “I just want to know how he’s doing.” Uncle Eddie’s voice did a passable impression of concern. “He won’t talk to me. I’m worried about him.”

  Despite himself, Rafi unbent enough to say, “He’s doing fine. In fact, I would venture to say he’s as happy right now as he’s ever been.” Arrogant, Julian would doubtless call him, but the evidence—Julian’s boneless relaxation—spoke for itself.

  “Oh, so you did finally take him to bed? That must have been interesting.”

  Any sympathy Rafi might have been feeling evaporated. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “I know my nephew, that’s all.”

  “I’m guessing not as well as you think you do.”

  “Educate me, then. Tell me all about him.”

  Rafi huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? You know, it took me a while, but I’ve figured out what it is you want from me, why you keep trying to get me on your side. You’d like for me to be your pipeline, right? Feeding you information about Julian’s activities, feelings, decisions. In return, you have a lot to offer me. Make my legal troubles go away, give me back DK. Is that what you had in mind?”

  It wasn’t Uncle Eddie who answered, at least not that Rafi heard at all. Julian stood in the half-open bathroom door, his expression utterly blank, his voice like a frozen wasteland. “And the sex was just a fun extra, is that it?”

  Rafi ended the call without another thought, dropping the phone on the sink. “Julian—Julian, wait!”

  Julian was already on the other side of the room, struggling into his breeches. “There’s nothing to wait for.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m not sure how much of that you heard, but—”

  “I heard enough. First you’re trying to get into my phone, then you’re giving information to my uncle.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Julian picked up his shirt—tossed down the torn pieces, and found Rafi’s instead, snatching it over his head. “I’m sure my uncle made it sound harmless. Like you were helping me, even. Maybe you’re like Cassie Bayles, incompetent more than malicious. Does it matter to the horse?”

  “Julian, I’m not doing whatever it is you think I’m doing—” He caught Julian’s arm as he tried to turn away. “Would you listen to me?”

  “No! I will not listen to a single word out of your lying mouth!” Julian shouted, snatching his arm away. “I won’t sit here and watch my uncle talk at me out of your face!”

  “Wow, paranoid much? Your uncle’s behind everything, isn’t he? Tabloid stories, random house fires, now he’s taking over my body simply through the phone! Has it occurred to you that you’re delusional?” Rafi was dimly aware that he was shouting. “You’re jumping at shadows and you need to calm down and just listen—where are you going?”

  Julian, half-dressed, tangle-haired, had picked up his boots and hat and was marching toward the front door. “Uncle always said no one would believe me, that they’d call me crazy. I guess he was right. He’s always right.”

  “Julian!” Already regretting his outburst, Rafi hurried to catch up, instinctively put himself between Julian and the door—froze as Julian looked up at him with eyes like ice. Ice with fear behind it, that a large shouting man was getting between him and the exit.

  Rafi stepped aside.

  Julian grabbed the doorknob. “I guess this would be embarrassing for you,” he said, “a date running off the morning after, unable to bear the sight of you. Good thing we’re not really dating.”

  He opened the door, and was across the foyer into an elevator before Rafi could say a word.

  Rafi snatched up and stepped into the nearest pair of sweatpants, and rushed after him. The elevator was gone, of course. The second one didn’t open immediately when he slapped the button. He ran for the stairs.

  He reached the ground-floor lobby of his building, chest heaving and legs aching, to see no trace of Julian—no, there he was, a flash of sun on fiery hair outside the glass doors. Though dimly aware there were people around, Rafi was already shoving the door open before he realized he was stepping into a storm of paparazzi.

  “Did you spend the night here, Julian?”

  “What’s that on your neck?”

  “Is he a good lay?”

  “Julian, look over here!”

  “Smile for the camera!”

  “Is this your first gay sex experience?”

  “What’s with the hat?”

  Julian had his head down, trying to push through them. Rafi couldn’t imagine he’d ever been caught in public in such a state of dishabille before.

  “Julian, come back inside,” he called desperately. “There’s no need for this!”

  Immediately, all the cameras were pointed in his direction, and the excitement of the crowd kicked up a notch, or three.

  “Rafi! Did you two have a fight?”

  “Julian, are you trying to get away from him? Are you afraid of him?”

  “Nice pecs, Rafi! Flex for us?”

  Julian had frozen in place, but didn’t turn around. Rafi pushed through the paps and put a hand on his shoulder; he jerked away from it.

  “Julian, please, let’s talk about this—”

  “Talk about what, Mr. Reyes?” Julian snapped, spinning to face him. “Your mediocre bed performance? Your inability to satisfy either man or woman? Your general dishonesty and completely unjustified self-assurance? How about your looming insignificance in the entertainment industry?”

  Rafi fell back a step, feeling as if he ought to have a physical wound to clutch. “I don’t understand why you’re saying all this. I know it’s not how you really feel.”

  “I want my bracelet back.” Julian grabbed Rafi’s wrist.

  Rafi pulled it away. “No!”

  Julian grabbed again, this time with nails, his face white with rage. “This was my father’s, and his father’s, and should have been my brother’s but it’s mine, it’s mine and I want it back.”

  Lightheaded and clumsy, Rafi fumbled the bracelet off his wrist, faintly aware of the clicking of cameras all around them. Julian was taking his off too.

  “Don’t,” Rafi said. “I don’t want it back.”

  “Pawn it,” Julian said, throwing it at his feet with a clatter. Then he turned away and walked straight into traffic without a pause. A taxi screeched to a stop; he climbed inside and was gone.

  Chapter 10

  the-gossipmonger: Re-posting some of the photos here on Tumblr just in case lawyers get them taken down from TMZ! Obviously this is from yesterday’s Jurafi Sidewalk Breakdown (or Breakup, rather!) and omg guys, just omg, can you believe. This is the drama that I live for. Look at this beautiful, beautiful trainwreck.

  [photo][photo]

  [photo][photo]

  And here’s a link to the video [x]

  jennygreenteeth: How does Julian still look that gorgeous while snarling? When I get mad I just get all red and puffy and weird-looking.

  madamgault: omg he needs every possible hug. look at him. how could anyone hurt my baby like this. #team julian #team punch rafi in the face

  noblebloodmagic: Julian Gault is a grown man and frankly I am disappointed in his behavior. You have a fight with your boyfriend, you don
’t immediately throw him to the wolves. In the video you can hear him saying stuff like ‘your mediocre bed performance.’ That’s just not cool. I don’t know what Rafi did, I assume Julian has good reason to be mad at him, but handle it like an adult, dude.

  distant-kingdom-lover: EXACTLY, OMG JULIAN IS BEING SO CRUEL TO MY BOY HERE. YOU CAN DO BETTER, RAFI. SOOO MUCH BETTER. #team rafi

  squeeee-love: i hate this so much, you guys, i am literally crying. i shipped them so hard. i would have sworn they were really in love. i was rooting for them so hard. maybe they really were fake all along.

  intotheblackhole: ok I know I was one of the ones calling them fake but uhhhh they both look genuinely upset here. I mean granted JG is an actor so who knows about him, but Rafi looks absolutely gutted and from what I hear he pretty much wears his heart on his sleeve. Watching this video felt like watching the crushing of a soul.

  * * * *

  Sometimes you try your hardest

  And you still don’t win the game

  Sometimes the dream remains a dream

  Sometimes you really are to blame

  Sometimes the bad keeps getting worse

  And even the good goes bad

  Sometimes the one you want remains

  The best you never had

  —“Never Had” from Sword & Shield by Distant Kingdom

  * * * *

  “Stop looking at it,” Amber said. “I’m serious. I sure don’t want to see it. Close the tab.”

  Rafi scrubbed a hand through his hair and took one last look at the TMZ article. “Rafi and Julian EXPLOSIVE PUBLIC SHOWDOWN!” screamed the headline, plastered over a photo of them from the beach, split down the middle as if torn. He’d already read the article three times, but certain phrases still jumped out at him—”half-naked and shouting,” “Gault’s first gay relationship,” “silence from both parties’ social media,” “yet another failed relationship for Rafael Reyes.” At the bottom were a handful of photos labeled Happier Times—he and Julian walking the red carpet together at the Constellation Gala, holding hands at the Gunpowder premiere, kissing on the set of Freaks.