by TJ Nichols
“Technically you can be made to forget, but it kind of messes you up.”
“And they can make me disappear too?” There was a faint smile on Tom’s lips, as though he still thought it wasn’t quite real.
“Yes.”
The smile melted. “I want to know, but I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
The words had a slight ring to them—they were the truth. Tom did want to know, but William wasn’t sure he wanted to tell him. He pressed his lips together. It wasn’t about him. To save himself, he had to do what Tom wanted.
Once his tongue was split, he’d be dragged off to court for the judges to decide his fate. He’d be turned into a shadow for what would’ve been the rest of his life, and then his soul would be added to Plutus’s pile.
He couldn’t understand how telling Tom would help, but he wanted to be truly free, not serving a sentence. “Do you really think you can help?”
“Are you giving up?”
Maybe. That would be easier—just accept and move on. Life would be different, not over. He’d be able to go places humans couldn’t if he became permanent. And he’d exist for a few hundred years. That was the selling point, that and money. But what good was money and time if he was alone? “No, but I understand the risks and dangers.”
“I was just threatened by some kind of shadowy thing. I’ve seen some weird shit since running into you again. But here I am.”
William nodded. Here Tom was. “Why?”
“Why not? Life has been dull since I got out of the Army.”
“Bull.” What kind of a man fought through shadows to get to his door?
Tom shrugged. “Why did you put my name in your contract?”
William stared at him, wishing he had a simple answer. “Have a seat. I’ll pour some wine.”
Tom sat on the sofa and scanned the documents that William had deliberately left on the coffee table. “Is this it?”
William gave a single nod.
Tom reached out to shift a page and let out a yelp. He shook his fingers as though they were burned. “They’re hot.”
“You aren’t supposed to read or touch, especially the page to your right.”
Tom leaned over to read that page.
“You probably shouldn’t read my notes on how to break the contract either.” William handed him a glass of wine, sat next to him, and nudged his notes. He’d added more to his list, including everything he thought Tom might want—all things William could buy without thinking twice—but now, as he looked at them, he realized they were things he wanted when he signed the contract, not what Tom wanted. His original list made more sense—though he doubted marrying Tom would break the contract, even if it would make William’s mother happy.
“I’m the regret… do you regret being with me?” Tom’s eyebrow lifted.
He should’ve put an easy regret like not having climbed Everest or not finding a cure for cancer. He’d lost Tom once and didn’t like his chances of getting him back. He wasn’t even sure that was what he needed—or wanted—to do.
No. He wanted Tom. The desire hadn’t died with time, but he was old enough to know that lust wasn’t everything. It was barely anything. Relationships needed more than the heady rush of desire. They needed truth and honesty, and he and Tom had never had that. Tom had always been embarrassed to be seen with him.
“No.” He wouldn’t change that summer for anything. “I haven’t gone back to Rottnest, because I don’t want to tarnish the memory.” It was close to perfect, but there was a scratch down the surface that warped the image.
Tom picked up William’s handwritten note. “What do I want?”
William couldn’t ask Tom, but Tom was asking himself. “I was trying to solve the problem.” He pointed to Tom’s name. Maybe the contract was meant to be impossible to break. Could anyone ever truly fix their past? But he knew people had slipped free. There was always a loophole.
“What do you want? I’m your regret. You wrote my name years after—”
“If I knew the answer, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Tom stared at the note. “When you signed this, I was glad to be out of home and away from my father and living my own life. I did think of you. Wondered what you were doing.” He smiled, but he wasn’t looking at William. He was still staring at the piece of paper. “Now I’m trying to find my feet as a civvy. I took a job over here on a whim. My relationship was heading south, and I guess I just wanted to make it easy for it to be over.”
“Man or woman?” Had he been Tom’s only guy?
“Does it matter? I’m bi. I know that now, but I didn’t back then. I didn’t want to know.” He put the paper down. “I’m not like you. I could never embrace it and not worry what people think.”
“Do you want to?”
Tom’s gaze slid to him. “Your problem is bigger than my homophobic family.”
“Do you want to give this another go?” It was worth a shot. If that was what Tom wanted, then maybe it would work.
Tom held his gaze for long enough that William was sure he was going to say no. It was a onetime thing at the reunion, a friend helping out another friend. William had slept with people for worse reasons, and he had no regrets about falling into bed with Tom. Maybe it was all they had.
Tom gave him a grin that made William’s heart do that stupid thing.
No other man had ever had the same effect on him. First love—not even the gods could fuck with that. It was a magic they couldn’t touch. He hadn’t known that at the time, or he might have tried harder to hold on to it. But he would’ve been the only one fighting. Tom had been drowning in the river of denial.
“We had some good times.” And some arguments, usually about Tom refusing to call him his boyfriend or the way Tom insisted on paying for everything, which made Willian feel like a dick twice—once for being broke all the time and once for resenting Tom’s ability to throw money around.
Tom nodded. “Yeah. I could’ve been a better boyfriend. We were dating. I was just too dumb to work it out until it was over.”
“I could’ve said something or walked away.” He’d let Tom keep him a secret because it was better than not having him. How pathetic was he? And he wanted to do that again, when Tom had all but said he’d never be honest with his family.
William sipped his wine. “I should’ve broken up with you. Your closet isn’t big enough for two.”
He deserved better, and yet he’d never found better. He’d found only heartache, because he was ashamed of his work and had to keep secrets. His boyfriends always worked out that he was hiding and lying, and the end came soon after.
Tom drew in a breath. “That was harsh, Will.” Then he grinned. “Maybe I should’ve broken up with you for being such an ungrateful shit.” He glanced around the room and then up at the ceiling, as though expecting some heavenly sign that the contract was broken.
“I was not ungrateful. I just… I just wanted to not always have my hand in your wallet.”
“I never cared. It was my father’s money. I liked spending it on you and that he’d have a heart attack if he knew.”
“I didn’t belong at the school, and you never wanted to be seen with me.”
“Not because of the money thing.”
“I know that now.” He glanced around his apartment. He’d chased money for a long time because he wanted to be someone.
“You were braver than I could ever be.” He sipped his wine. “I’m guessing this is an expensive drop?”
“Yes… wasted on you?”
“Very much so.” He put his hand on William’s knee. “The contract’s not broken, is it?”
“No.” William scratched “Breaking up with Tom” off his list.
“Goddammit. We’ve hooked up, and we’ve broken up. What’s left?”
Not much, and William didn’t know this older Tom well enough to know what he truly wanted. “Did you really want to break up?”
Tom shrugged. “I do
n’t know. I’ve thought about it and how I should’ve had the balls to end it, but then I kinda liked that it was never really over. A little part of me thought that one day we’d remeet.”
“And pick up where we left off.”
“No, not that. It’s been too long, and too much has happened. But I’d like the chance to get to know you.”
William smiled. He’d like that too. “It can’t be how it was.”
“I know… no more hiding.” Tom’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the wineglass.
William’s body jerked as though hit. Wine spilled over his hand and dripped onto the floor. Shadows lengthened from under the coffee table, and the lights struggled to hold back the darkness. That was it. But he had no idea how to tell Tom. If he did tell Tom, would that undo it all? Did it have to be Tom’s idea?
Tom scanned the lounge room. “What is it? Are you okay?”
William blinked and took a rather large and impolite drink of wine. “Fine. I assumed you’d be out by now.”
“Not really. It’s easier not to be. I picked male partners who were just as secretive, then wondered why it all fell apart. I’d date some women, and it would all be fine, and I’d tell myself it’s just an itch. Then some guy would catch my eye….” He finished his wine. “Getting involved with me again will only end in disaster.”
“I think I brought the disaster this time. And if we are comparing the size of the mess we’ve made of our lives, I think I win.” William waved his hand over the contract.
He needed to add “no more hiding” to his list, but as he reached for the pen, his fingers burned.
“Was the offer that good?” Tom said softly.
William pressed his lips together.
“I know you can’t talk about it.”
“I want to. I want to tell you everything.” Even those words made his mouth uncomfortably warm.
“What happens if you do? We can’t work this out if I don’t know the mission specifics, and I want to help. Just tell me what to do.”
He could feel the need in Tom’s words. He had fought his way up the stairs and he wasn’t going to run this time. But as soon as he told Tom what he needed, he would be damned.
William pushed his list at Tom and pointed at the last line.
“I want you, but I don’t know how.”
He’d said it. No more hiding. Tom’s regret was the secrecy. He’d been doing it his whole life, keeping half of himself hidden. William picked up the pen, ignoring the heat. He managed to write “hid” before he was forced to let go.
Tom grabbed his hand and stared at the fresh blisters. “You really can’t tell me anything. I have to put it all together.”
William nodded and tried to find a way to word what he needed to say in a roundabout manner. “You’ve seen the shadows?”
Tom scowled. “What have they got to do with this?”
William glanced at the contract and pointed at his tongue.
Tom stared at him. “If you tell me, your tongue will split. That’s what you said in the hotel? Will a shadow grab you? Where will they take you?”
Maybe there was no other way to do it. If you called the contract into question, you ended up in court. Lucifer had said it wasn’t about him, it was about Tom. And Tom really wanted to know. Will drew in a breath. “I’ll tell you everything, but then it’s up to you.”
“To do what?”
“Break the contract.” His tongue stung, and his lips were hot.
“No.”
“I signed the contract with Plutus, the god of wealth. I was so tired of being poor. I wanted to prove to everyone that I could be something. I thought if I had money you wouldn’t have been embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“Will—”
“Shut up and let me talk. I’ll only get to do this once. For breaking the NDA, I’ll face trial and become a shadow if I lose.” He hissed as his tongue burned and tore and blood filled his mouth. “Shit.” The word was twisted by the starting split.
“What’s happening?”
William wiped blood off his lip. “You have to break the contract and set me free. You said no more hiding, and the shadows flared. Is that your regret about us? I can’t help you figure it out, but Lucifer told me I could get free. He made sure we were at the reunion. I trust him.” His tongue was on fire, and all he could taste was his own blood.
“What?”
From the corners of the room, shadows surrounded them and sucked up all the light. “The gods played me into their hands, always nudging me until I was cornered. It’s what they do. I was greedy, hungry for more, and an easy target.” He lowered his voice. “I was an idiot. It was never about money for you.”
“I didn’t want to be in love with a guy.”
William’s heart almost broke. At least he’d loved honestly and without fear of himself. “Ask Lucifer for help. He made sure we got the chance to remeet.”
Confusion filled Tom’s eyes. “You’re asking me to trust the devil.”
“He advocates for humans.” He could barely talk, his words tangled and his tongue splitting. If nothing else, he was free of his contract. “You are my out clause. My regret. I can’t do anything. You can save me. Prove—” He gasped as skin and muscle tore and blood welled in the wound that healed as fast as it formed. The pain left him dizzy for a moment. He drew in several breaths.
“Prove what?” Tom asked, gripping his hand hard.
Darkness loomed over William like a wave about to break. “That you aren’t ashamed of me.”
Summer
Twenty-five years ago
THE CHRISTMAS ski trip to Japan with his family was horrendous. The only good bit was the skiing, when Tom could escape his father and older brother. They didn’t dare do black-diamond runs, so Tom was on his own for hours on end. It was only in the evenings that he had to suffer.
There’d been words about hanging around with that McLeod boy too much. Somehow his parents had discovered that he’d been blowing off his friends to hang with Will… although they did more than hang. He didn’t know what they were doing, but the week apart was torture. Will haunted his dreams.
Tom’s father even had the nerve to ask if there was something going on, and there was a cold gleam in his narrowed eyes that Tom would never forget. His mother defended him, claiming that he couldn’t be gay because he played football. His father retorted that fags didn’t belong in the Army and they’d sort him out if he did have tendencies.
The Army would only sort him out if they knew… and they’d never know. He’d keep his secrets better.
After that, Tom had taken to drinking in the ski resort bar so he could avoid all of his family except his older brother, who occasionally joined him to delight in Tom’s further fall from grace. Tom had never been the smart one. That was one of the reasons his parents had encouraged him to play sports. When he accepted the place at ADFA and refused to give it up, there’d been another argument.
Now he wasn’t allowed to use the car, which made it almost impossible to go to Will’s without catching a train and then a bus or two. He hadn’t worked out the public transportation yet. So after a week apart, they were meeting at a student pub in Fremantle, only one train away, when all he wanted was a quiet place to kiss him and get naked.
As much as he wanted to see Will, he was worried about being seen and about what people would think. Was his father right? What would happen if the Army discovered he’d slept with a guy? Would they kick him out? He couldn’t afford for that to happen or he’d be back home and having to do what his father wanted.
Will was already at the bar, sipping a beer—one he’d probably make last the whole time.
The edge in Tom’s blood softened. The need to hug Will intensified, and his fingers curled. He glanced around the pub to see if there was anyone he recognized. It wasn’t a usual haunt for his friends. They never went to these places.
“Hey.” Tom slid into the empty chair opposite Will instead of kissing him on t
he lips the way he needed to.
“Hey yourself. How was the trip?”
“Shit.” He leaned back. He should’ve grabbed a beer first, but he hadn’t wanted to wait. He wanted to reach out and grab Will’s hand.
“Must be so hard flitting off to ski.” Will took a couple of big drinks.
What had gotten into him?
“I missed you. I bought you this.” He put the paper bag on the table.
Will glanced at it and then opened it. He pulled out the snow globe. It had a Shinto shrine, and it was pretty when the fake snow was falling. Will almost smiled. “Thanks.”
But he didn’t seem all that thankful. Will shook the globe and watched it for a moment, and the smile left his lips.
Tom watched him, not sure what to do. “What’s up?”
Will was silent for a few heartbeats. “How come you never invite me around anymore?”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Tom fidgeted and glanced around, unwilling to admit that his father was a total arsehole. But there was no way around it. “Dad doesn’t want me hanging out with you.”
“Does he think I’ll steal your PlayStation?”
Probably. Tom nodded, unable to meet Will’s gaze.
“We never hang out with your friends… only mine.”
“You aren’t into footy, and they’re a bunch of dicks.” Only interested in beer and chicks. Usually in that order. He had been too, until Will.
“You still hang out with them.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Will’s gaze was as sharp as that of a wounded animal, not sure if it was going to run or attack. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“No, I’m not. We’re here now.” It wasn’t as though they only met up for sex. They did other stuff, like watching movies and surfing—though, without a car, he couldn’t even surf.
“How many people know we’re seeing each other?”
Tom stared at the table where couples had carved their initials into the wood. They weren’t seeing each other, were they? If they were, then everything his father said was true. And if people knew, then he’d cop a whole lot of shit. Fear gripped his gut and wouldn’t let go. He wasn’t brave like Will. He wasn’t like Will at all. Will was the only guy he liked.
