The Uncrossing

by Melissa Eastlake

  But it was barely noon. The gray fell so hard again that he had to sit on the bathroom floor with his head between his knees.

  When he walked back into his room, Luke was poking something on one of the shelves.

  “These whales.” Luke had that dark, intense look on his face, and he let his eyes travel down Jeremy’s body. He could suspend Jeremy in midair doing that, but today Jeremy shrank away and sat back down on the bed. He pulled his knees into his chest.

  “Sid and Cassie,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “The whales.”

  Luke glanced between the whales and Jeremy. He looked like he was about to offer to leave again.

  “Don’t mind me,” Jeremy said. “I’m just a little gray today.”

  “Gray?”

  That was an invitation to clarify, but Jeremy said only, “Yeah.”

  “All right. Do you want some lunch?” Luke sat down next to him with the takeout bag and handed over chicken and rice. It was Jeremy’s favorite, and he was pretty sure he’d never said that to Luke, which he hoped meant that Alexei had bought it.

  Luke pulled the computer over them and started up the video he’d found. He rapped along with the theme song, forkful of yellow lo mein like a microphone: This is a story all about how my life got flipped… Luke knew every word.

  “You know the whole song?” Jeremy asked in delight.

  “Everyone knows the whole song.” Luke nudged Jeremy’s shoulder. “Everyone in the world. But give it a couple episodes, you will, too.”

  Jeremy’s laziness had left him too sludgy to eat much, but he picked at his food as they watched the first episode. He dropped his leftovers on the floor beside the bed and nudged Luke’s arm. “Gimme a fortune cookie.”

  Luke gave him a funny look as he dug in the bag.

  “I mean, um, please?” Jeremy added.

  Luke laughed. “I like gimme better.” He put the cookie near Jeremy’s hand but pulled it away to lure Jeremy across his body. “Gimme a kiss first.”

  It was stupid to get shy after days and days of kisses, but something off-kilter inside Jeremy wouldn’t settle, and he pressed his closed lips against Luke’s with a scared feeling he couldn’t name. Random shouts and rumbles kept cutting upstairs to remind him they weren’t alone. Luke pressed the cookie into his hand. He curled away, trying not to think about how he burned all over, scalp prickling, and was probably bright red.

  Luke had a big, goofy grin on his face. “I like how you blush so much, too. Let me know if there’s anything else you need me to gimme you.”

  Jeremy was so hopelessly embarrassed he couldn’t even open the fortune cookie. His fingers slipped over the plastic wrapper.

  “Hey.” Luke paused the show. “It’s all right. Was that too much?”

  Too much and not enough. Perfect, but only for someone else’s life. “I keep thinking how Sergei wouldn’t let us be alone in here, and then as soon as he needed something from you…” He felt inexplicably used. He risked a glance at Luke, who was rolling his eyes with his whole neck.

  “Sergei is a racist, homophobic ass—” Something on Jeremy’s face made Luke stop. More gently, he said, “All I mean is, don’t let him get to you. But don’t let me push you, either. I don’t want to take anything you’re trying to save.”

  “You’re not.” It wasn’t what Luke did that frightened Jeremy; it was what he made Jeremy want. Everything. Even though all Luke would talk about was breaking up. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re—this is great. It’s just—” One of Seryozhka’s joyous shouts rang up from downstairs. Jeremy willed Luke to understand.

  “Do you want to come over tomorrow afternoon? My parents have to see the building’s owner. It will be—” Luke glanced at the door. “Quiet.”

  Jeremy could not make himself talk, but he nodded. Luke smiled a little with half his mouth and leaned forward, holding Jeremy’s face and kissing him. His hands were firm, but his lips brushed lightly, almost teasing—he wanted Jeremy to do that chasing-forward thing again, and Jeremy’s body followed instantly. He was going to get his everything, even if he had to hurry for it.

  “All right,” Luke said. “You’re not going to learn anything like this. Pay attention.” He turned back to the laptop, starting the show again.

  “Is there going to be a quiz?” Jeremy had never taken a real quiz, but it was the sort of thing he might be good at if he had the chance.

  “Life is a quiz.”

  When Jeremy opened his cookie, the fortune read, “You are dependable in business.” Jeremy glared at it, looking for meaning, and when he decided there wasn’t any, he twisted the paper into a thin rope and folded one end into a circle.

  He cupped his hands around it, holding them to his lips and imagining the cool weight of metal as he breathed out. The paper changed against his skin, and he opened his palm to Luke. “Thank you for lunch.”

  Luke picked up the key, bright silver with an open bow. “What does this go to?”

  “Vladimir Putin’s secret dungeon in the Kremlin,” Jeremy said. Luke blinked. “Nothing. It’s just a shape.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Luke squinted close to the key. “You get all the details. I can see the lines on the metal like it got cut.”

  “It would be cooler if I could make locks to go with it.”

  “Cooler. Dangerous, though, right?” Luke grinned and dropped his voice. “I might end up stuck.”

  Jeremy didn’t know what to say, so he tried to make his silence mysterious. He tucked himself under Luke’s arm, dozy and gray and taken care of. Luke ran his hand up and down Jeremy’s side, and Jeremy’s body overruled his whirring mind and relaxed. This was one of Jeremy’s favorite ways to be touched, though he hadn’t known that about himself until Luke started touching him. It was thrilling and strange and almost unbearable to think there might be more secrets like that ticking away inside him, secrets only someone else could uncover.

  He didn’t get the song down, but he got the appeal. Luke laughed a lot more than he did, and at the end of the third episode, Luke asked, “Do you like it? You seem a little…”

  “Gray.” Jeremy didn’t offer more, though Luke waited an extra beat.

  “I see.”

  “Yeah. It’s not your fault. This is fun.” Jeremy ran his fingers along the seam at the outside of Luke’s knee and felt Luke’s breath change in his chest. Jeremy hesitated before he said the next part. “I don’t like that there’s a girly one and they make fun of him.”

  Luke twisted around so he could see Jeremy’s face. His hand spread out over Jeremy’s chest. “It’s not—I mean—how you are is—”

  “It’s okay, though.”

  Luke took a break before he tried again. “There’s nothing wrong with being the way you are. But you know I’m biased. I like that a lot.” One of his hands pushed Jeremy’s hair away from his temple and the other slid around Jeremy’s side, over his back. “This whole thing.”

  Jeremy wasn’t sure what that meant. Girly, smelly lizard boys with bad manners and facial mange? “You like weird stuff.”

  Luke snorted amiably and put his lips next to Jeremy’s ear. “I’ll like whatever I want,” he whispered, which made Jeremy shivery again. Jeremy was embarrassed, so Luke probably liked that, too.

  Jeremy stayed level, resting against his pillows as Luke kissed his neck. It felt nice, even through the gray, but there was something he wasn’t doing right that made Luke stop.

  “Carlton’s the man sometimes.” Luke reached around Jeremy for the laptop. “Let’s find a good Carlton episode. And then I’m going to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me know if you’re still gray, and I’ll come over here and take you out instead.”

  “I won’t be.” Jeremy flopped as Luke jostled him. “It’s harder than I thought it would be, hoping. But I can handle it.”

  Jeremy couldn’t see Luke’s face, but he felt Luke’s surprise. That
was all he wanted to say, and before Luke could ask any more questions, he said, “This is nice, though. Thank you for letting Alexei bully you.”

  “You’re welcome. Anytime.” Luke’s hands moved with more purpose, rolling Jeremy’s chin up. Jeremy closed his eyes. Luke stopped and hummed a little in a way that made Jeremy sway closer, almost there, and Luke pressed forward and kissed him. After, Jeremy dropped his forehead into Luke’s neck without bothering to open his eyes, and Luke’s thumb touched his lips. “You’re too much,” Luke said. “I can’t take it. I really can’t.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sergei and Alexei sat in close conversation at the dining room as Luke was leaving, so absorbed that neither lifted a head. Marta and the little boys were playing a board game in the living room, painted in brighter colors, and she gave Luke a broad wink goodbye.

  Luke stopped on the front stoop and shook himself out like a wet dog. It wasn’t nothing to get all his systems firing in order, moving forward, left foot, right foot. On an instinctual level, it didn’t add up: there was a warm, sleepy pile of Jeremy up there, and he was walking away.

  Light dripped like honey from the trees. The whole afternoon had that golden quality, flaws filtered away. He’d lost hours in Jeremy’s bed, letting their bodies adjust to one another, and the time had passed like a blink. It would have been perfect, if not for the layered horrors of Jeremy’s family and crossing.

  Luke couldn’t shake the grimy feeling that he was acting someone else’s part, an understudy in a play. Jeremy’s true love crept over everything like a shadow. Luke didn’t care about that guy, whoever he was, but if he cared about Jeremy, then maybe he should.

  Turning the corner to the avenue, he shook himself again, catching some mystified eyes. He thought, tomorrow. He wasn’t going to make it home like this, not without embarrassing himself, so he popped into a corner bodega for a break. He needed something cold—he thought maybe a popsicle, then that sounded too sexy, then everything sounded sexy, and he stuck his head in a fridge.

  Tomorrow.

  In search of a distraction, Luke latched onto that: what was happening tomorrow? Not at his house—that he knew. He was in control, he could take it slow and walk his boundaries, he could be so, so careful—but at Sergei’s.

  Something about Natalya. Something they didn’t want to explain. Something they needed to clear the whole house for.

  Did that mean they were going to kill her? The idea wouldn’t settle, slippery like a fish, but it wouldn’t go away. Alexei was a murderer—the blood had smeared Luke’s own hands. He’d killed that man for drawing a gun on his family, more or less in self-defense—what would he do to the person who put Jeremy’s hair in that man’s pocket?

  Luke knew it was real, but even the attack he’d been there for felt glossy and amplified, like a movie scene. If he tried to imagine interrogation, torture, cold-blooded murder—he kept seeing Jason Bourne.

  Yuri had said, You’ll have to decide how much compromise you can live with.

  Luke was still standing in front of the open fridge, the attendant glaring balefully at him from behind the register, so he took a bottle of iced tea and shut the door. It was not difficult at all to turn the story so the Kovrovs were the villains.

  Alexei had shown up unannounced at the store that morning, leaning against the counter like they chatted all the time. “I could use a witch doctor.”

  “Yes, sir, what’s up?” Luke guessed another little store or laundromat, a cleansing or mojo bag.

  “Our prince won’t get out of bed.”

  Luke’s heart catapulted. “Did you call a doctor, is he—”

  “No, nothing like that. I think he might enjoy some company.”

  Like Alexei knew, like he cared, as long as he didn’t have to feel guilty about it. As Luke was leaving, Jeremy had said, “I’m taking a shower,” but all he’d done was roll over around a pillow like he was going back to sleep.

  Still, though, Luke had pulled Jeremy’s hair out of a mojo bag that made a nightmare. Alexei had killed for him, might be planning to kill again. It wouldn’t square up until Luke figured—and it was obvious once he had it—that nobody had to be the good guy. This story could be all villains.

  He needed a sign.

  Exiting the store, Luke held the door open for someone coming in. With her glamour down, it took him a long second to understand the little fawn-haired woman was Natalya.

  She sparkled to life when she saw him, taller, darker, face breaking open in a bright smile. “Luke! No Jeremy today?”

  This was the compromise Luke could live with: he mumbled in reply and reached for the door, ready to run and forget he’d seen her.

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him into an aisle. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Luke raised his eyebrows because he couldn’t trust his voice. Natalya waited another awkward beat before continuing. “Listen, I know Sergei’s being…like Sergei. If you and J need somewhere to go, you’re welcome to my apartment. I’m rooting for you two.”

  Luke went cold. A few days ago, he would absolutely have taken her up on that, and then what? Jeremy trusted him. A slow heat rose, became angry at her, at Jeremy’s family and his own, at everything that wasn’t the two of them. “So you can sell us out again? What does Malcolm pay you?”

  Natalya jumped back, but no shield could stop the flash of horror on her face before she smoothed it. “Luke,” she said, and the illusion she built wrapped around him like reaching fingers.

  He brushed it away. “That doesn’t work on me. If you’re trying to hurt Jeremy, you’re going to lose.” He pushed past her and discovered how much compromise he could live with after all. He leaned close to her wide-eyed face. “You should get out of town. Just get away from us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  There was nothing Jeremy didn’t love about the Melnyks’, where everything was clean and practical and whispered of magic. It was too idyllic to imagine really living in.

  He loved the store, which was filled with color and light and glittering bits of sequin and glass. Camille waited behind the counter with a knowing eyebrow. “Luke’s upstairs.”

  “Oh, thanks.” Jeremy’s pulse started happening in unusual places—his throat, the palms of his hands. “Hey, I got you a present. To thank you for your help the other day.”

  This was mostly true. He pulled the plain brown box from his messenger bag and placed it on the counter. Camille eyed it, hands clutched under her chin. “For me? What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  Luke walked through the back door, right on cue like a movie star and looking like one, too: white T-shirt, slouch in the doorframe, the bare skin of his long limbs. He made Jeremy dizzy, even before he gave Jeremy a once-over and a wide smile.

  Luke turned to Camille and asked about the box, went through the whole thing again, but Jeremy didn’t catch up until Camille screamed, and the kitten-size elephant he had made climbed onto the counter.

  “No!” she said. “Yes! No! Is this a micro-elephant?”

  Jeremy made a little bow. “Custom order.”

  Luke started to laugh. He looped an arm around Jeremy’s neck and pressed a kiss against his hair. The elephant rose on its hind legs, trumpeting tinnily.

  “What’s its name?” Camille squealed. “Does it need to eat, or, or—”

  Jeremy shook his head. “She’s a toy, not an animal. You can name her whatever you want.”

  “I love it. I love her!” She picked up the little elephant, who wiggled in her hands. While Jeremy watched, Luke’s hand skimmed down his back.

  “You look good today,” Luke whispered.

  “Full color,” Jeremy replied. It was even almost the truth.

  “I think we’ll leave you to it,” Luke said, and Camille smiled up beatifically.

  “This doesn’t mean true love is real!” she chirped at their backs.

  “Sure it does,” Luke called as the door closed behind them.
“It also means I never have to do the dishes again.”

  When they were alone, Luke whirled Jeremy around by his hips. His bag knocked against his back and pushed him into Luke.

  The back room was dim, the lights low. The sun filtered purple through curtains, and Luke was extra devastating in it. All the shadows made his eyes brighter, so when he looked at Jeremy, it felt intent and hot. He started to say something and stopped himself. Jeremy filled it in—too much was wrong, he’d changed his mind—and Jeremy’s nerves got the better of him. He dropped his gaze to his hands, pulling a yellow rubber bracelet until it stretched white.

  In the end, all Luke said was, “Let’s go upstairs.”

  Luke’s room was tiny—maybe it had been half a room, once—just big enough for a twin bed and dresser. The windowsill served as his nightstand, with a lamp that curved down toward his pillow. That bed didn’t seem like it would fit Luke by himself, much less… Jeremy cut the thought off.

  The room was as scrupulously clean as the rest of the place, a dark green spread smooth over the bed. Jeremy gawked in the doorway, afraid to touch anything.

  Luke sidled behind him and took the strap of his messenger bag, lifting it over his head. He spread his other hand over Jeremy’s stomach, pulling him close. “Hi there. What would you like to do this afternoon?”

  Jeremy tried to laugh, but the sound was a nervous exhale.

  Luke moved his hands, rubbing Jeremy’s shirt against his sides. “I want to—anything. With you. But, listen. You know I respect you, right?”

  Jeremy tried and failed not to laugh at that. “Okay. Sure.”

  Luke turned him around to hold him eye to eye.

  “You look so serious.”

  “I am serious.” Luke smelled so good: there was the incense, and sage and juniper and lavender, and something warmer underneath. Jeremy was getting distracted by it, but Luke stayed steady and earnest.