by Aidan Wayne
***
Skye’s nerves were worse than usual when it was time for his big quick change into the Power Prince, but he tried his best to tamp them down. The last thing Russell needed was Skye being all over the place. He stripped down with Russell’s help, got his new costume on. Spared a precious second to kiss the palm of Russell’s hand before he went to scurry up the ladder. The last thing he remembered before he went back into Stage Mode was Russell’s startled expression and his slight smile.
It was enough.
***
“You want to come over?” Skye asked, after he was back in normal clothes. “We could bring dinner back to my place, watch something maybe, take your um, mind off things?”
“Thanks. But I’m not really… I wouldn’t be the best company.”
Skye frowned. “Any of your company is good company. And it’s not about that, it’s about you not being alone. I’m allowed to take care of you too, you know.”
That got him that slightly startled look again, followed by the same small smile “I… yeah. Okay. That sounds nice, Skye. Thanks.”
Skye shrugged. It didn’t feel like something he should be thanked for. “Of course. Now what are you in the mood for, for dinner?”
They returned to Skye’s apartment, bags of take-out in hand –they’d both gotten salads, because they were boring, boring people– and went to sit at the table to eat.
Russell was quiet and subdued, and Skye left him to it for a little while, because he knew as well as anybody that somethings you just needed to be quiet, especially when you were mourning.
Once they were both finished, Skye got up to throw their things away and then said, “Hey, why don’t we get ready for bed, okay?”
Russell nodded. By now he kept several changes of clothes at Skye’s place, including pajama bottoms, and had his own toothbrush (so did Brent). They both changed and then went to brush their teeth, not quite able to fit side-by-side in Skye’s little bathroom.
When they were done, Skye laced their fingers together. “Hey come on,” he said quietly, and led Russell over to the bed. He scooted back against the ‘headboard’ of the fold-out and held out his arms. “C’mere.”
Russell went, sitting between Skye’s legs so they were back to chest, and Skye wrapped his arms around him.
“I’m really sorry,” he said again, in the quiet of the apartment. “I know how much you loved her.”
“Thanks.” Russell sighed against him, shifted to pull Skye’s arms tighter around his body.
They stayed like that for a long time, just listening to each other’s breathing. Skye swallowed, trying to figure out how best to say what he’d set up for Russell.
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Nothing much,” Russell said. “I have some commissions to work on, but I might not be up to it. And anyway I have to–I have to figure out what to do with Charlotte.”
“Um,” Skye said. “About that.”
“Yeah?”
“I, um. I maybe. Um. If you wanted to–I–there’s this place in the city, Pet Haven? They um, they do cremation and burials and um. And that sort of thing. I thought it... maybe…” Russell was silent, and Skye tried to keep breathing normally and not get worked up. Even if he’d done something wrong, trying to do this for Russell, it–Russell wouldn’t–
“You…” Russell paused. “You. You thought of that for me? For her?”
“I just wanted to help,” Skye said desperately. “I thought it might help.”
Russell twisted in Skye’s lap until he was facing him. “Skye that–that means a lot. Thank you.”
Skye smiled hesitantly. “I have everything set up for tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Russell said. “Tomorrow.” He wrapped his arms around Skye and pulled him in, Skye’s own arms coming up automatically to curl around Russell’s back. “Thanks,” he mumbled into Skye’s neck. “Really. I–thanks.”
Skye pet Russell’s back. “Of course.”
***
The next day, after Russell said his last goodbyes to Charlotte, Skye coaxed him into a walk through Central park. After about an hour interspersed with strolling and sitting, Russell finally started looking like himself again.
They went to get lunch, followed by ice cream, Skye’s treat, and continued to walk with their cones until it started getting late enough that the theatre started calling.
Russell had to go before Skye did, so they said their goodbyes, Skye dropping him off at the door before he went into a coffee shop and tried to think of other things that he could do. It was an early show day, starting at seven and ending a little after nine, so not too late. Brent usually came around on early show nights to at least say hello if not to spend more time with Skye, take him back to his own apartment or follow Skye to his.
Hey, he texted Brent, Russell’s not feeling so great. I’m going to spend the night with him again, if that’s okay. Give him a little more attention.
He got What’s wrong? What happened? A few minutes later.
Charlotte died yesterday. We took care of her remains today. He’s hurting.
Is there anything I can do?
Skye thought about it. Russell and Brent were close friends. Russell might not mind the added extra comfort.
If you wanted to stop by tonight and just support him a little. He’d probably appreciate that.
I’ll be there. And you can both come over, if you want, or he can go home with you. Whichever you think would be best for him.
We’ll see what he wants, Skye replied. Thank you.
What for?
For caring about him too.
Of course. He’s one of my best friends.
That always made warmth bloom in Skye’s chest, knowing that. That Russell and Brent also cared about each other so much. I know. I’ll see you tonight, then.
See you.
***
Skye walked out the stage door with Russell, right into the usual waiting crowd. For once Skye wished there had been less people in the audience, but he smiled and signed playbills all the same.
He was glad to see Brent approach, and even happier when Russell pulled him into a hug. Brent smiled at Russell and asked him something, and Russell let out a breath, waving a hand.
“Hey! Skye.”
No… Skye blinked back to reality, and to the voice he recognized–and had hoped not to hear again. “Oh,” he said.
“Hey.” Fischer grinned at him. “Welcome back to the planet.”
“Hi,” Skye said, clutching at the shoulder strap of his messenger bag. He had to fight the urge to just run away. Brent and Russell were both waiting for him, and Russell needed the comfort, and Skye did not want the scene that would come from telling Fischer to get lost. As if he even could.
“Hey Skye.” Brent, who was suddenly right next to him, smiled. “How was the show?”
Skye jerked his head toward him, relieved. Brent was one of the best buffers against Fischer he could ask for. “Hi. And good. Um. Another full house.”
“Good to hear,” Brent said.
Fischer shifted where he stood, and Skye couldn’t help but tense up. “Skye, want to introduce me to your friend?”
“Oh uh, yeah, sure, um. Brent, this is Fischer. Fischer, this is Brent.”
Brent held his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you.” He sounded a little confused. Which made sense; Skye was pretty open about all his friends. Brent knew all the goings-on of Linda and Michael, for instance. But Skye had never mentioned Fischer.
To Brent or to Russell, not really. “Fischer, huh?” Russell said, also holding out his hand. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
Fischer turned expectantly back to him. Skye wished he could disappear. “Right, um, this is Russell.”
“You okay?” Russell asked.
“Fine,” Skye forced out. Just introducing the two men I’m dating to my ex. Who wasn’t... “Sorry.”
“How do you guys know Skye?”
Russell and Brent glanc
ed at each other, and Skye held his breath, no idea what they were going to say.
“I work backstage,” Russell said. “Costuming.”
“I started as a fan of the show,” Brent said easily. “And Skye and I got to talking.”
Fischer nodded. “Cool. I just got back in town and wanted to see the show and say hi.” He raised a hand and Skye, hyper aware of how close Fischer was, flinched back as Fischer put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Brent and Russell both frowned, concerned, so Skye was clearly telegraphing something but he couldn’t help it just wanted Fischer to stop touching him. “And it was a pretty good show,” Fischer continued. “You actually looked like you knew what you were doing.”
“T-thanks.”
“And you hit all your marks even with the quick changes. Good for you.”
“Thanks,” Skye said again. He smiled hesitantly at Russell. “That’s all Russell’s doing. He’s my go-to quick changer.”
“Oh yeah? Good on you, man. I know he can be a total mess.”
Skye flinched again, clutching at his shoulder strap in an effort not to move away from Fischer’s hand.
“He’s not that bad,” Russell said easily, smiling back at Skye. Skye ducked his head, the comment sinking to the pit of his stomach.
Fischer laughed. “If you say so. You’re the one who has to work with him. Speaking of work,” he turned back to Skye. “How are things going at the studio? You still have people willing to be your students?”
“Y-yeah.” Skye was more in demand than ever. He had to turn people away.
Fischer nodded. “Hey, that’s great.”
Go away. “Thanks.”
“It’s also good to see you cleaned up a bit,” he said, eyeing Skye’s button-down. “I remember when you were trying to rock those awful graphic Ts.”
Skye swallowed. He loved his graphic shirts, and liked going to thrift stores and resale shops to add to his collection. He ordered new ones online all the time.
Fischer knew that.
“We were actually all going out to dinner,” Brent cut in smoothly. “We’d made plans to go after the show. I hope you don’t mind if we pull him away from you?”
Fischer grinned at him. It was a very likable expression. Fischer was a likable guy. “Sure thing. Guess he’ll be your problem for the rest of the night!” He squeezed Skye’s shoulder again and then finally dropped his hand. “Good seeing you. And nice to meet you guys.” He nodded to Brent and Russell and then turned, heading off into the night.
Skye kept his gaze was fixed on the floor, breathing hard. It was okay. It was okay, Fischer had just said hi, and now he was gone, and hopefully he’d never have to see him again.
“Skye?” Russell asked. “You okay?”
Skye jerked his head up. “Yes. Sorry, fine. I’m fine. Sorry, are you okay? How are–how are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Yesterday and today with you really helped. Got my mind off things.”
Skye smiled up at him. “Good. I’m glad.” He looked over at Brent. “Um. Were we really going out to dinner?” He really didn’t want to. He didn’t want to do anything much right now, except curl up at home and hide for a little while.
“Why don’t we order in,” Brent suggested, after a moment
“Good idea,” Russell said.
Skye tried not to sag in relief. “Sure. If you want to.”
“My place?”
“That’d be nice,” from Russell. “Skye, that okay with you?”
“Yeah.” Brent’s place was safe. And it would be nice to not be alone. Besides, Skye still needed to be there for Russell. “Of course.”
Brent smiled at them. “Alright, let’s go.”
Chapter 12
Skye was still jittery with nerves as they took the elevator up to Brent’s apartment. It wasn’t really a surprise that Fischer would come to see Child’s Play. He was in theatre too, after all, and made it a point to see all the new shows he could. It was something they did together back when they’d dated. So that wasn’t a surprise.
But it had taken him aback to see him again at all, especially with how they had parted. He hadn’t expected Fischer to wait by the backstage door to say hello. It had been startling and unpleasant and the rush of memories didn’t make it better. And even though Fischer had been perfectly nice, Skye couldn’t help but hear every one of his comments as a jab.
Fischer was like that. And it had taken a lot for Skye to realize that wasn’t healthy, to receive it on his end.
But still. He’d probably overreacted. Fischer had been fine. It was fine to see him again. He hadn’t said or done anything that really–it had been fine.
And now he was with Brent and Russell, the latter of whom had just buried a beloved pet only a few hours ago, and who needed attention way more than Skye needed to stew.
When they got to Brent’s apartment, Skye followed Brent and Russell inside and then stepped out of his shoes like always, unslinging his shoulder bag and setting it on the floor, standing up on his socked feet. “Hey,” he said to Russell, reaching out for him. “You sure you’re okay?”
Russell caught his fingers and squeezed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m a lot better. Thanks. I mean it.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Skye stepped forward to press a kiss to his mouth, and Russell smiled against him, catching his chin for another kiss before pulling away, leading him to the living room.
Brent, who had gone to put away his suit jacket, came to join them there, taking his own kiss from Skye before squeezing Russell’s shoulder. “Dinner’s up to you,” he said. “What’re you in the mood for?”
Russell opened his mouth, paused, laughed. “I was about to tell you to chose.”
“Oh, stop,” Skye said.
“I still can,” Brent said, lips quirking up. “How about pizza? Good comfort food.”
“And salads.” Skye said, sitting up.
Brent’s eyes twinkled. “And salads.” he took the other seat next to Skye, lacing their fingers together. “How’re you feeling?”
“Me?” Skye asked, surprised. “I’m fine.” Still reeling a little from seeing Fischer, but otherwise fine. Besides, it’s not like Brent or Russell knew who he was. And Skye wasn’t about to tell them.
Brent and Russell exchanged a glance. “Okay,” Brent said.
“Mm-hm.” Skye kissed Brent’s cheek and then insisted he be let up so he could go to the kitchen and set the table while Brent ordered.
Russell ended up trailing behind him, chuckling. “We’re literally getting pizza and salad, what part of the table do you have to set?”
“Well, we’re probably going to need plates to eat the pizza, and forks for the salad because we’re not barbarians, and–”
Russell wound his arms around Skye, hooking his chin over Skye’s shoulder. “What if I want to eat in the living room? We could watch something.”
“Oh. Well, if you want to.”
Russell grinned.
“We still actually need all the stuff, though.”
“I know. Here, I’ll help carry.”
They brought dishes and cutlery into the living room and set it on the coffee table, and Russell chose a program to watch while Skye and Brent went back to the kitchen for drinks. They all settled back on the couch to watch the show, until Brent’s phone went off with his front door buzzer. He buzzed the pizza guy in, and Skye hopped up off the couch when he heard the knock. “I’ll go get everything.”
He tipped the delivery guy and took the pizza boxes, the bowl of salad sitting on top, and went back towards the living room. He was almost to the coffee table when his foot caught on Brent’s throw rug, and he slipped.
Skye watched in slow motion as the food all fell to the floor. The pizza boxes thankfully stayed closed, but the salad made a mess everywhere, spilled all over Brent’s nice hardwood. He stumbled backwards and didn’t wait to see Brent’s furious expression, Russell’s disgusted one, instead throwing up his hands and squeezing his ey
es shut. “I’m really sorry,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath and then nothing. No yelling or cursing or anything. Skye cautiously opened his eyes. Both Brent and Russell had stood up from the couch, staring at him with what seemed to be horror. It only made the foot spilled at their feet stand out more, and Skye started to panic.
“I-I’m sorry,” he said again, chest heaving, “I’m really sorry. Please don’t–” leave, think less of me
Hurt me
Brent took a step forward and Skye cringed, unable to help it. Brent froze. “Skye, it’s okay. I get that you’re sorry. It’s okay.”
He was talking softly, like Skye was a frightened animal. Skye kind of felt like one. He–he didn’t really think Brent would hurt him. Brent had never even raised his voice to Skye, not like…
Brent and Fischer had absolutely nothing in common, Skye thought resolutely. And it was only seeing Fischer so recently that had Skye in a panic at all. He knew Brent. He knew Brent would never–
Besides, Fischer had only hit him once. And then Skye had broken up with him and that was it.
That was it.
“Skye?” Russell asked carefully.
Skye swallowed. Russell should not be the one taking care of Skye right now. “Sorry. Sorry, I-I’ll get this cleaned up.”
Brent held up a hand. “Let me, okay? It’ll be easy. Why don’t you and Russell go watch something in the bedroom while I take care of this.”
Skye made an aborted motion at the floor. “No, I can–It’s my fault. I’ll–”
“Hey,” Russell said. “Why don’t you and I make another food run?”
“Yes. Excellent idea. And I’ll have this all cleaned up by the time you get back.”
“I–” Skye looked from one to the other. “Are you sure? I mean. It’s my fault. It’s my fault,” he said again.
Russell moved until he was beside Skye, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was grounding, in the way that Fischer’s had minutes ago had been so unwelcome. “Come on,” Russell said, steering him away. “Let’s go.”
