"Get out," Mason hissed, anger bubbling up inside him.
"It doesn't matter which way round it was," Kirk announced, making no attempt to do as Mason had asked. "All that matters is that you're fucking David, and tomorrow, everyone will know it. You might as well quit now, because no one is going to want to dance with you once they know what you're up to."
"Get out!" Mason yelled, thumping his fists into the sofa cushions rather than into Kirk's face. "Just get out." The initial fury in his voice had all but vanished, replaced by a hopeless, fragile whisper. He shouldn't be letting Kirk intimidate him, but he felt scared.
Kirk strolled towards the open door, but he lingered in the doorway, not leaving. "You know, I almost feel sorry for you."
Mason looked up at him.
"You really thought you were good enough to dance a leading role, and you obviously thought David loved you. But face it, Mason: he was just using you for sex. He's a predator, and you fell right into his trap. I wonder how many other young dancers he's done this to?" Kirk smiled cruelly. "Think about it. I'll see you in the morning."
He sauntered out, slamming the door behind him.
Mason dropped his head into his hands and took several deep breaths. He was shaking, and his thoughts were a jumbled mess, but the one thing he knew for sure was that he didn't want to be alone.
Chapter Twenty-Six
David
David watched, anger seething within him, as Mason downed the whisky he'd just been handed. It seemed to stop the young man from shaking a little, but he looked no less upset. Tears made his eyes seem even larger than normal, perhaps because none of them had escaped to trickle down his cheeks.
"I'll call Ronnie," David said.
"What? No." Mason shook his head, a horrified expression on his face.
David had been in the process of reaching for his phone, but he paused and stared at Mason. "She might be able to talk Kirk down before he tells the whole troupe that we're sleeping together."
People knowing didn't bother him, but then he wouldn't be the one getting most of the shit for it; Mason would. He would do anything within his power to shield Mason from that.
"Kirk is already convinced that Veronica let you give me Puck because you two were married." Mason raked his teeth over his lower lip before he continued. "He reckons you're still sleeping together. If Veronica calls him tonight or hauls him into her office first thing tomorrow, it'll only convince him of those fantasies."
David sat down beside him and laid his hand on Mason's thigh. "I'm glad you know they're fantasies. There hasn't been anything beyond friendship between Ronnie and me for a long time."
Mason half-closed his eyes. "That day we first met—you said your second marriage was one of convenience. That was your marriage to Veronica, right? Your first wife was called Rebecca?"
David smiled. "You have a good memory."
Mason shrugged and slumped against the back of the sofa.
They hadn't spoken about either of his wives since that day. Maybe he should have told Mason more about them and his other partners, but other than his brief curiosity about how many subs David previously had, Mason never asked. He still wasn't asking. His lips were firmly pressed together, perhaps signalling the end of that part of the conversation. However, David felt he owed Mason some sort of explanation, because his marriage to Veronica was about to affect Mason in the worst possible way.
"She had very conservative parents who expected her to be married and have children. When her father became ill, she wanted to please him. We were already friends, so I offered to help her out." He sighed. "Marriage and kids were never things Veronica wanted, so, after her father passed, we divorced. But we stayed friends."
Mason's gaze remained fixed on a distant point. "But not lovers?"
"No. And it was a long time ago, Mason. I promise you, she wouldn't put my whims above the good of her company. BalletEast is her whole life."
Mason dipped his chin to his chest. "I know. But it doesn't matter, does it? All that matters is what Kirk tells everyone else. People enjoy gossip, especially when they're not the centre of attention. The dancers will lap it up. By the end of the week, they'll probably all be convinced we're in some kind of sordid threesome."
David hated how miserable Mason looked in that moment. It seemed to drag all his features down, his eyes and lips, his chin and shoulders. It was like he was folding in on himself, when all David wanted to do was tell him something that would make him rise up again, like the brilliant, energetic star he was.
"What do you want to do?" David asked.
He felt powerless. There really was nothing he could do to protect Mason from the storm he'd face over the coming days and possibly even weeks or months. The only thing he could have done was to walk away right at the beginning, but neither of them had wanted that. Still, they'd been foolish to think that simply being discreet would be enough. Or perhaps they'd let their guard down too much of late, because they'd grown too comfortable with one another. Either way, Kirk had seen them together, so there was no way of denying they were a couple.
"The only thing I can do," Mason said. "I'll go into the studio tomorrow with my head held high and do what I'm paid to do. Dance."
It was the first time David had ever seen Mason talk about dancing without any trace of excitement or joy in his eyes and voice. His chest ached at the thought that Kirk's jealousy might rob Mason of that, if only temporarily.
"Do you regret any of it?" David asked.
Mason jerked upright and twisted to stare at him. "What? Us? No." He grabbed hold of David's hands. "I love you, David."
There it was: some of the energy and fire that had been missing since Mason had turned up on his doorstep, shaking and practically incoherent until David had managed to calm him down enough to talk. Seeing it burn within Mason's eyes again made David shiver from head to toe and eased the ache in his chest.
"We both knew this would happen eventually," Mason said. "I might have tried to deny it. I might have convinced myself that being discreet would be enough and that we really would make it to the end of the season without anyone finding out. But deep down, I knew there was a chance it wouldn't happen and that we'd have to deal with the consequences." His shoulders dipped again, and his grip on David's hands loosened ever so slightly. "I wish my private life really was my own business. It shouldn't matter who I choose to sleep with or who I choose to love." Bitterness had crept into his voice.
"It shouldn't matter," David agreed. "And hopefully, it won't matter to anyone but Kirk."
Mason snorted. "I thought I was supposed to be the naïve, idealistic one in this relationship. You're meant to be the realistic, down-to-earth one."
David leaned forward and nuzzled at Mason's face with his nose and lips until he looked up and their stares locked. "I can be idealistic," he said through a smile.
"You just want to make me feel better so you can get into my pants tonight."
They both laughed at Mason's words, although the sound the young man let out was weak and thready.
Mason glanced towards the sitting room door and then looked back down at their hands. "I don't want to go home tonight."
"Kirk following you home has really rattled you, hasn't it?"
Mason nodded.
That made David the most angry of all. Intimidating someone in the workplace was bad enough, but doing it in their own home… He wanted to thump the smirk off Kirk's face. Not that it would do any good, but he sure as hell hoped that Veronica could do something about it, although he wasn't sure what. Kirk had acted outside of work time. His bullying of Mason within work time had never been reported.
Fuck. He shouldn't have promised Mason he wouldn't say anything. He guessed similar thoughts were running through Mason's head. Saying them out loud would sound more like an 'I told you so' than an attempt to help, so David kept the thoughts to himself. It didn't stop him from wishing that he'd done things differently, that he'd made more of an effort
to cajole, or even push, Mason into talking to Veronica about Kirk weeks ago. But he'd understood. He remembered what it was like to feel as if his career was balanced on a knife edge. So, while he knew Mason had done the wrong thing—and by extension, so had he—he understood completely why his lover had made the decision to weather Kirk's bullying rather than report it.
"You can stay here," David said. "For as long as you like."
Mason's lips parted, but he didn't speak.
"I have a huge house. I'm not asking you to move in as my lover…" David hesitated and then grinned. "Although I wouldn't say no to it, either. But right now, I'm offering you a place to stay until you feel comfortable going back to your own place. Okay?"
Mason's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't say no to…"
"You moving in as my lover," David confirmed, then kissed him on the lips.
"It's too soon."
This wouldn't be the first time David had rushed into moving in with someone. He hated the concept that there was an acceptable time limit on stages of relationships and how people thought less of you if you didn't stick to them. Why should you date before you slept together? He and Mason had done that all the wrong way round, fucking several times before they'd realised they were falling for each other. And why should you wait to declare you loved someone, or move in together, or hell, even get married? He knew people who had waited years to make those commitments and had broken up quickly afterwards. He knew others who had rushed every stage and were still happy married decades later. Time didn't matter; only the depth of your feelings did. And even then, only the depth of those feelings in the moment you were in because in the next moment, everything could change.
"Aren't idealists also romantics, normally?" he asked, realising how much he'd like Mason to be a bigger part of his life, not just waking up next to him some mornings, but every morning.
Mason shrugged. "It's bad timing."
"Yes," David agreed. "It probably is."
"Ask me again when things are calmer. If you still feel that way, obviously."
"Obviously." David chuckled before kissing him again. "It's late. We should both get some sleep."
Mason gave him a puppy dog look. "So, you don't want to get into my pants?"
"Oh, I always want to, but I'm the realist. Remember? We've both got an early start."
"Yeah, and I'll need all the energy I can get to deal with whatever gets thrown at me tomorrow."
David eased his hands away from Mason's so he could wrap his arms around his lover. "We'll face it together."
"No, we won't. Our work lives are separate, remember?"
"But—"
"No 'buts'. At the studio, we're dancer and choreographer, not lovers. But when we're back here…"
David knew what Mason needed him to say, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. It felt wrong that he'd essentially be standing back while Mason was fed to the lions. But he knew his lover was right. They had to go on being as professional as they had been. Blurring the lines between work and home wouldn't be a good idea.
"David?"
"When we're at home, you can lean on me," David promised. "Whatever you need to do, I'll be here for you." He kissed Mason's forehead. "I love you."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Mason
Mason did exactly what he told David he'd do: he walked into the rehearsal studio with his head held high and got ready to warm up. He even managed to get a good ten minutes into his stretching routine before the whispers started. Kirk was standing with a group of dancers, and from the looks that were being thrown Mason's way and the hushed nature of their voices, Mason knew they were talking about him. And why wouldn't Kirk spread his gossip? It was no secret he hated Mason. If it had just been the jealousy, it might have been easier to swallow, but knowing another dancer hated him because he was gay? He thought he'd left crap like that behind when he left high school. But the sad truth was, he would always encounter bigots who weren't happy to live and let live. People who thought they had the right to get angry because of someone else's life choices, even though those choices didn't affect them in any way.
He tried not to pay any attention to the small group as he worked his way through his routine. He glanced up when Gemma ran in and breathlessly switched her shoes before joining him on the floor. She normally warmed up with him every day, but she wasn't usually late.
"Stupid buses," she mumbled. "The first one was full and didn't even stop."
"That sucks."
"Uh-huh. At least I made it before Andrea turned up to crack the whip, right?"
Mason forced himself to laugh with her.
"What's up?" She followed his stare over her shoulder to Kirk and his pals. "What's their problem?"
"Me."
"And what else is new? They're homophobic idiots." She touched his arm. "I don't suppose you're planning on talking to Veronica about it yet?"
Mason shook his head as Alan walked in. Kirk didn't hesitate to call him over. Mason focused on stretching again, not wanting to witness Alan's expression as Kirk divulged what he'd seen the night before. He had to dance with Alan. Of all the dancers, losing Alan's respect would cause the most damage. Losing Gemma's friendship would hurt the most, though.
He let out a heavy sigh. "You might as well hear this from me rather than Kirk."
Gemma raised an eyebrow. "Hear what?"
"David and I are a couple."
He couldn't even bring himself to look at her in the silence that followed. He expected her to stand up and walk away, or slap him across the face.
"Okay."
He snapped his head up to stare at her. "Okay?"
She smiled. "What did you expect me to say?"
Mason shrugged and then nodded towards Kirk and the others. "I don't think they're going to be as understanding."
"What's to understand?" Gemma asked, a quizzical expression making her eyebrows scrunch together. "It's not like you're all over each other in the studio. You wouldn't even guess the two of you were friends, let alone anything else. Why should what you do after you step out the front door bother me?"
"Kirk thinks I slept with David to get a better part than I deserved."
She snorted loudly. "Kirk is a jealous idiot. Do you really care what he thinks?"
"I care that he's been prodding away at me for months now. I care that, now he finally knows for sure that David and I are together, he's going to tell everyone."
Gemma looked back towards the small group of dancers again. "Does Veronica know about you and David?"
"Yeah. David told her weeks ago."
"And she doesn't care?"
"I don't think she was happy about it, but we're not breaking any rules."
"Exactly. You've done nothing wrong, Mason. Don't let Kirk and a few other idiots get you down."
Mason stiffened as Alan walked towards them. "Here we go," he muttered, bracing himself for an onslaught of abuse from the principal dancer, the man he had to spend most of his rehearsal time with.
Alan sat down on the floor beside Gemma. "Do you know what Kirk's saying?"
Mason nodded.
"Is it true? Are you fucking David?"
For half a second, Mason debated lying, but it wasn't something he was good at. Lying had never sat right with him, maybe because his family had always been so honest and open about everything.
"Yes."
Alan pursed his lips and nodded. "Well, guess there's not much Veronica can do to make him shut the fuck up, then. As for the other stuff, that you don't deserve to be Puck, anyone who's ever seen you dance knows Kirk is just making that shit up." He leaned forward and play-punched Mason in the arm. "I've got your back, okay?"
Mason's breath caught in his throat. He felt lighter, less weighed down than when the whispers had started. He really couldn't think of anything to say to thank Alan. He certainly hadn't expected the principal dancer to be so cool about it, which showed how little he knew about Alan. He felt a tug of guilt. He'd inst
antly thought the worst, not just of Alan, but of pretty much everyone. He'd assumed the whole troupe would turn against him. And maybe some would—maybe even a lot would—but it felt good to know he'd have at least a few people on his side.
"I've already told him to shut up," Alan went on. "Not that he'll listen to me. Kirk has a big ego and an even bigger mouth. So, yeah, he's likely to be even more of a jerk than usual." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the group Kirk was with. "Unfortunately, so will they. Think you can handle it?"
"Yeah. I'm here to dance, and that's what I intend to do."
Alan grinned at him. "Good attitude. Ignore them, and it'll all blow over soon enough. Mind if I stay here to warm up?"
Mason shook his head. Alan had never warmed up with him before, but he guessed it was the principal dancer's way of showing his support. And he was glad of it. He was relieved Gemma was so relaxed about it, too. Hopefully, most of the troupe would feel the same way.
The rest of the week didn't go so well. People talked behind his back, some less quietly than others. It didn't take much to discern what too many of the dancers thought of him: that he was an undeserving man-slut who'd sleep with anyone to get a leg up in his career. He'd also been asked if he'd give blow jobs for money by guys he was pretty sure wouldn't actually want a man to go down on them, but had simply been looking for a way to hurt him. And they had. Each whisper, each jibe, each crass advance made him feel heavier. But he took it all, and directed the tumult of emotions he was feeling into his dancing.
When he was dancing, he stopped thinking about all the other crap. He put more energy and emotion into his dancing that week than he had done throughout his entire career. Not that he didn't always put everything he had into his dancing, but the antagonism gave him reserves he didn't even know he had. He hoped with each passing day that if he proved how capable a dancer he was, the comments and stares would die down. But they didn't, and by the end of the week, he was physically and emotionally exhausted.
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