Lonely Hearts

by Heidi Cullinan

  “I need everyone to leave.” Baz held Elijah close, standing at the foot of the stairs. “Anyone associated with my mom’s campaign, with the press. I’ll do interviews with anyone who wants one, but not until tomorrow, and not if you camp out in my yard.”

  Stephan looked ready to blow several gaskets. “Sebastian, I cannot allow—”

  Baz’s whole body tensed. “Get out. You especially, you and Giselle, get out, or I don’t care how much it fucks up my body, I will throw you out.”

  “I’ll help,” Ed offered from the other side of the room.

  Giles, Aaron, Lejla, Mina, Jilly, Sid and Brian voiced their heartfelt agreement.

  Baz led Elijah up the stairs.

  Someone had already unlocked the door, but Baz turned the latch once they were safely inside. After dimming the lights, he shut the window, the blinds, then took off his glasses and undressed Elijah.

  Elijah shivered, mostly from overstimulation, but he didn’t fight. “You haven’t turned on the red lights yet. Put your glasses on.”

  “You like me better without them.”

  “I like you without a migraine.”

  He snorted. “Six hours too late.”

  Baz removed his sunglasses. In the faded brown light of the bedroom, his naked face shone with gentleness. Elijah got a rush acknowledging nobody else ever saw this face. The eyes were a treat, yes, but in everyday wear, Baz’s expression was a mask of cool or wry humor. Tonight, as was so many times they were alone together, Elijah realized, Baz’s face was tender.

  Being with you, taking care of you, fills up my holes. I don’t want to stop.

  Baz’s words echoed in Elijah as Baz finished undressing him and kept him close as he stripped out of his own clothes. He lowered them to the bed together and tucked them into the comforter, pulling it over their heads. In the rapidly heating cocoon, they wrapped around one another, their bodies close, their noses nearly touching.

  “I feel kind of dumb,” Elijah said at last. “I’ve never freaked out so much.”

  Baz kissed him lightly, stroking his hair. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing.”

  Elijah lifted his head. “What happened?”

  Baz kept petting Elijah, but his expression became heavy. “I thought I was going to see my mom. Talk with her. It was inconvenient, but I felt like I knew what my job was, so I sucked it up and shifted my schedule. Except it wasn’t to see her. It was to be a prop. They had this slideshow of talking points. They’d rewritten the attack when I was sixteen to make me sound as if I should be wearing a bandage over my eye and an arm in a sling as I wept into a golden bowl before it could be blessed by a gay-rights deity. That pissed me off, but—” He stopped, then plowed on, his expression hard. “They wanted me to pretend I was single because it polled better. So I took off.”

  That hurt, and combined with the earlier shit from Stephan, Elijah admitted it cut pretty well. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

  “Elijah—you’re what I care about. You’re everything to me.” His hands slipped to Elijah’s shoulders. “They crossed my biggest line. You said at the lake you were worried I was going to abandon you. If you told me to get lost, I’d probably keep trying to take care of you. I’d do my best to not be creepy and stay out of your way, but let’s just say if your sidewalk magically cleans itself, you know who to blame.”

  Elijah nestled into the crook of Baz’s shoulder, turning his face to inhale deep scents of Baz. “I’m not going to tell you to get lost.”

  “Even though my family is fucked up and will probably continue in the same vein?”

  “Sorry, I have no experience in that department. No point of reference whatsoever.”

  Baz chuckled and pulled him closer.

  As he snuggled deeper into the delicious cocoon of their bed, Elijah made himself acknowledge how hard Baz had pursued him not only tonight but also every other time Elijah had tried to withdraw. Tonight he’d found Elijah when everyone else kept walking right past him—Baz seemed to zero in, as if he’d known exactly where to look. He with the shit vision. Baz had found him, swept him away in his moving castle and talked him into sanity. Confessed that he loved Elijah, loved taking care of him. Baz wasn’t a little bit of affection. He wasn’t a flame like Aaron or Giles or Mina or Lejla. He was a goddamned lighthouse calling Elijah’s moth-eaten soul home.

  Elijah shut his eyes, giving in to the beacon before him. “I love you.”

  Baz stilled, lips brushing Elijah’s hairline. One hand tightened on his shoulder, and the other gripped Elijah’s hip, slightly desperate.

  Say it again.

  Elijah did. “I…love you. I’m scared and I don’t want to, not anybody, but I do. Love you. And I don’t think I can stop.”

  Hot breath exhaled on his cheek as Baz sighed, then nuzzled his temple. “I love you too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Baz wanted to stay curled up in bed with Elijah, fall asleep and pretend the world didn’t exist. A few weeks ago, Baz would have given in to the temptation. Tonight, once Elijah fell asleep, he climbed carefully out of bed and into his clothes.

  Everyone was in the kitchen—his housemates, Ed and Laurie, Damien, and Walter. Stephan, Giselle and their crew were nowhere in sight. No reporters, not in the house, not on the lawn or in the driveway. His friends’ expressions made it clear, though, there would still be an interrogation.

  “Elijah’s okay.” Baz deposited himself wearily into the chair Damien indicated, giving in and letting his head fall sideways onto his friend’s shoulder. “He’s sleeping now.”

  Damien didn’t dislodge Baz from his shoulder, but he did poke him in the leg. “You scared the shit out of us, you know. Marius kept trying to leave class. The only way we got him to stay home was to promise we’d bring back a report.”

  Baz reached under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can somebody switch the lights for me? Then I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Giles got up to switch the lighting scheme from energy-saving fluorescent to incandescent red, but he didn’t sit. “We know what happened. We want to know if you’re okay. How we can help.”

  I’m fine. But as Baz removed his glasses and stared at them with his own eyes, he realized the lie would be pretty obvious. He sighed and stared at the tabletop instead. “I don’t know what there is to do. At some point I have to call my mom, but I don’t know what to tell her. I need to chase these reporters permanently off our damn lawn, but I don’t know how to do that either.”

  He expected some coos and reassurances, but instead they exchanged irritated glances. Ed and Laurie were the exception. They watched the others, almost as if they were the parents at a family meeting, quietly, lovingly urging the kids to sort out their own shit.

  Aaron broke the silence. “Baz, you need to tell your parents to fuck off. No more reporters. No more campaign. No more using you as a prop or doing focus groups on you.”

  They weren’t simply united. They were a goddamned wall of resistance. Baz fought a new wave of tired as he scrambled to explain. “Look, I know I need to make them ease up, but a full-scale fuck you isn’t appropriate—”

  “Baz.” Damien went full-on mama bear. “Everyone here at this table had their lives thrown into chaos because your parents pushed you too far.”

  Shame and sorrow hit Baz in the middle of the chest. “I’m so sorry. You guys didn’t have to—”

  Giles looked about as pissed as Damien. “You don’t get it, Baz. We’re not saying it’s your fault. We’re saying your mom’s campaign is taking over your life so much when you try to resist, it consumes ours. It’s bad for you. It’s bad for your life and everyone you love.” His cheeks stained as he added, “A lot of people love you, Baz.”

  Mina leaned in. “You took a bullet for all of us. Now we’re forming a wall around you. You’re letting
us protect you. It’s not up for discussion.”

  The table erupted in nods and murmured variations on yes. On Baz’s other side, Lejla found his hand and squeezed. He turned to meet her gaze and found himself staring at unvarnished strength—and loyalty. Baz searched for another argument, a way to make them understand why it wasn’t going to work the way they wanted it to—but to be honest, he wasn’t sure how to convince himself of that any longer. He sagged in his chair and held up his hands in surrender. “Okay—but I still don’t know what to do.”

  Walter leaned around Damien and grinned. “No worries, Acker. We already came up with a plan.”

  Their plan was weird, to Baz’s mind, because it began with them sending Baz to bed. When he protested he really had to call his mom, Damien replied he was fielding that call. Baz wanted to ask what his friend was going to say, but he was afraid to find out. So he hugged everyone, passed over the keys to the Tesla when Damien asked for them, and went to bed.

  He woke tangled in Elijah. An orgasm for Baz was utterly off the table, but when he tried to give one to Elijah, he only shook his head and burrowed in closer. “I just want to hold you.”

  They kissed a lot, though. In bed, in the shower they took together, in the hall before going down the stairs hand in hand. Everyone else was already awake, and to his surprise, Baz found Damien having coffee and chatting quietly with Aaron.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked after bussing the top of Damien’s head. “Did you sleep on the couch or something?”

  “Nope. Drove home and back in your fabulous car. Which I’m going to find more excuses to drive in the near future, by the way.”

  Mina handed Baz a cup of coffee and kissed him on the cheek, while Lejla gave the same treatment to Elijah. They sat, and their friends explained their day to them.

  “Elijah, you have class at ten fifteen, right?” Aaron tapped a notebook as he spoke. “Lejla’s your escort there, but Jilly’s picking you up and taking you to lunch and your afternoon classes. Brian will bring you over to the music building, at which point Giles and I own your ass until after choir.”

  Elijah raised an eyebrow and glanced at Baz. Baz shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m not driving this bus.”

  Damien clapped a hand on Baz’s shoulder. “I, meanwhile, will enjoy a moment of silence in the chapel while you have your morning session with Pastor, and after, we’re heading into the Cities to have lunch with Marius. Hopefully we convince him to stay on campus for the afternoon, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be coming with us to the showdown with your parents. As soon as the brief meeting with your mother is done, you’re resuming your regularly scheduled life. I’ll escort you to your internship, get you home in time for choir. By the time you’re done, I’ll be at the White House with Marius, Walter and Kelly. We’ll all have a nice dinner, drink a bit of wine and chill the fuck out.”

  Baz blinked at them all. They were as resolute as the night before. “Damien, it’s Friday. You have work today.”

  “Took the day off.”

  Baz winced, scrambling for another excuse. “I told the reporters I’d give them interviews.”

  “You’ll give a statement. Walter wrote it for you before he left.” Giles pushed the paper across the table. “The press is meeting you outside the chapel—Pastor set it up. You go to your independent study meeting with him right after.”

  Baz scanned the paper in front of him. The statement was short and very lawyer, mostly saying while Baz supported his mother’s political aspirations, he wasn’t running for office and he was focusing on finishing school. It was pretty good, actually. He wondered if it would work.

  An hour and a half later, he discovered that it did. Damien stood at his elbow as he read the statement verbatim and took four follow-up questions. Walter had a series of stock redirects for everything political, and Baz used them. The last question, though, he answered directly. It came from Susan Meeks.

  “Is it true you’re still involved with Elijah Prince, the young man whose life you saved in March, and would you consider it a serious relationship?”

  “Yes and yes,” Baz replied, and they were done. The reporters shouted more at them as they disappeared inside the chapel, but campus security was there in force, and they informed the press they needed to leave campus now.

  Pastor gave Baz a hug before leading him up the stairs to his office. “You look like things are going a bit better than what I understand was your experience yesterday.”

  Baz grimaced, realizing Pastor had been dragged into this as much as everyone else in his life. “I’m sorry for any trouble it caused you.”

  Schulz waved this apology away. “I’ve fielded worse crises during my tenure as campus pastor.”

  They actually didn’t talk about the whole thing with his mom long. Pastor seemed to have been at the same meeting as everyone else, either that or what people kept saying was so obvious Baz was the only one who couldn’t see it. Pastor listened, letting him vent about the chaos and confusion. He encouraged him to talk at length about Elijah and praised Baz for how he’d taken care of his boyfriend and himself. He nodded in approval at Damien’s plan for Baz to tell his mother he was done with politics.

  Then Pastor asked about his assignment for his independent study, the twenty-page paper he was due to present in draft by homecoming, in full by his graduation in December.

  By the time Damien got him to Marius, Baz had the feel for this dance, and he was starting to like it. When Marius bear-hugged him and babbled worry and demanded Baz never let this happen again, Baz promised he was done with his family’s political dynasty. The more he said it, the better he felt.

  They stopped off for coffee at the law school with Walter, who showed Baz some online articles based on the statement he’d drafted and congratulated Baz on a job well done. Then he coached him through a remixed version for his parents.

  “I know you probably have an impulse to really get into it and explain yourself, but I’d encourage you to steer away from that at this point,” Walter said. “Your goal is to disengage, and theirs is to keep you engaged. Therefore any engagement beyond your stated intention to remove yourself works in their favor, not yours. While I understand your desire to smooth things out with your family, you need to be realistic about it probably not happening right now. Later you can have a goal of mediation and resolution, but right now the prize is getting out of current and future involvement in the campaign. My goal is to help you achieve that with a few sturdy roadblocks you can tear down later. No bridges will be burned in this if we play our cards right.”

  Baz stared at Walter as if he’d never seen him before. “When the hell did you get so smart, Lucas?”

  “When I became a Davidson.” Walter winked and sipped at his coffee. “Marriage suits me. A lot.”

  No shit. Baz reread Walter’s talking points, but he found himself distracted by thoughts of Elijah. He was pretty sure Elijah worked the same kind of magic on him.

  Marriage would suit me too.

  Elijah wasn’t on Walter’s talking-points memo outside of a bullet point about how important Baz’s relationship with him was, but when Baz waltzed into the Saint Paul Hotel flanked by Marius and Damien, the thought of being with Elijah, clearing this snarl so nothing threatened them anymore, gave him a center and a passion to succeed.

  The suite was full to bursting with people, and though the whole room zeroed in on Baz as he entered, his mother and father sitting on the couch together were the whole of his focus. He took the chair cleared for him, drew a breath, and before his mother could take hold of the conversation, he said what he’d come to say.

  “Mom, I love you and I wish you the best on your career. But it’s not my career, and I’m not having any part of it any longer.”

  He wanted to blurt out the rest, but as Walter had advised, he waited, let his mother blink and frown and rebut. “Darli
ng—no one ever said you had to be a part of it. You’re blowing this entirely out of proportion. It was only a couple of interviews, and all your statements were prepared—”

  Baz couldn’t help going off message. “I hope to God you didn’t have any idea what they told me to say. Because if you did, I’m walking out of here right now.”

  Gloria blinked at him and glanced at Stephan. “What’s he talking about?”

  Your goal is to get out of this, he reminded himself, and returned to his script. “Your campaign has invaded my life. Yesterday the lives of everyone I care about were thrown into chaos because no one told me I was walking into an ambush, not a casual lunch with my mother. My boyfriend was insulted and attacked in every way possible, and we spent the evening pulling him out of a panic attack. I’m done. I’m seriously done. My life is finally going in the right direction, and I’m not derailing it. I love you, but if you don’t leave me out of this, especially after the bullshit of the past few weeks, I don’t know if I can keep saying that much longer.”

  This comment hadn’t been in Walter’s prepared remarks either. But the truth of the words rang in his heart all the same.

  His parents stared at him in shock. His father looked mostly uncomfortable, as he did whenever emotions were involved, but his mother looked…stricken. Hurt. As the pregnant moment expanded, her expression didn’t change.

  “All right, darling. If you feel that strongly about it, I’ll see to it none of this bothers you any longer.”

  As Marius and Damien escorted him out of the suite, hugging him and murmuring good job, Baz realized, a little dizzily, he’d achieved his goal.

  He was still slightly out-of-body as he arrived at Halcyon Center. Laurie loitered in Ed’s office as Baz reported for duty, and it was clear Ed’s husband had come along chiefly to hear the news of how things had gone. Still not entirely sure how to trust it had happened, Baz told them. He accepted their hugs, their praise. Then everyone but Ed left to go back to their lives, and Baz went with Ed to go over their lesson plan for the after-school classes.