“I broke you and Fallon up, not because I liked Will, or her, but because I love you. And loving you comes with the price of completely disregarding my own wishes and needs. Fallon made you fall deeper into drugs and depression. She was toxic for you, so I kicked her out of the way. And I’d do it again if I could. In a heartbeat. I would slay for you, Winslow. Now, Indie did the opposite. She rebuilt you. But of course, watching you fooling around made me want to hang myself every day. Knowing I’d pushed you into each other’s arms just about killed me. And I still did it. For you.”
Lucas threw himself across the black velvet couch, burying his face in one of the pillows. I inwardly wondered what kind of arsehole goes around living his life not knowing one of his best mates is in love with him. Me. I was that arsehole.
“You’re gay,” I said, rather dumbly, rubbing my sweaty temple. I wasn’t sure why I was so sweaty, but it might have had something to do with the fact I was so numb, I couldn’t even distinguish how fucking hot the room was. I’d been too busy trying to get high and to not think about Indie. Two things I’d categorically failed at.
“Gay as they come. And please, no Alfie jokes.” Lucas started rolling the zipper of his leather jacket. Up. Down. Up. Down.
It was weird to talk about him when my own world was in shambles. But I could no longer afford to be a shitty mate, and acknowledging that was a start. Plus, he looked like a sulking child. Sad and annoyed and defeated. I fell down to the settee beside him and nudged his shoulder with mine.
“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for. Not being gay? Parading half the female population of Hollywood at the Chateau in front of him? Making him play fairy godmother to me for over a decade? Inadvertently destining him to become a fucking drummer?
“Don’t be sorry. I’m nearly thirty and still mostly in the closet. I lied to you for years. Pretty sure we’re even.” Lucas wiped the snot from his nostrils with the back of his hand, staring down.
I didn’t know it was possible for my heart to break even more after Indie, but it did. It broke for Lucas. I jerked him into a hug.
“Oi,” I said, honing in on the wall in front of us. Nothing was okay, and yet I had to assure him it was, because Indie was right. I needed to find my soul and show it to people around me. “Look at me.”
He sniffed again and looked up.
“When did you figure out you like dick?”
“When we were twelve? Maybe thirteen? I’m not sure. I just remember wanting your heart long before wanting your dick. It was a January evening. I spotted you walking up and down the road with Tania on your back, yelling to the closed windows, ‘who knows how to tune a guitar?’ and thought…this sonovobitch is going to have a bathroom full of Grammys someday. You looked like a loser, but you were so far into what you were doing, I couldn’t help but admire that. Your voice had just broken, and so had your chin, with a dozen pimples or so. Do you remember that?” He laughed. “God, you were a joke.”
“I’m still a joke.” I smirked. I remembered that day. Dad’s mate, Duncan, had finally agreed to tune Tania and taught me how to play the first few chords of “Smoke on the Water.” “It’s just that, I’m not really sure if me being a joke is funny anymore.”
“You’re definitely still funny,” Lucas said, swatting my chest. He’d never done that before. Maybe he’d always wanted to, but didn’t know how I’d react. The thought depressed me.
“Please don’t relapse, Alex.” Lucas was serious again. But it was too late. Even though I hadn’t gotten high that evening, I knew with certainty that I would. And that I’d regret it. And that it’d take at least some of the pain of what had happened with Stardust away.
“Question,” I averted the topic. I took a fag out of the pack on the coffee table with my teeth and lit it, my arm still wrapped around his shoulder like he was my little brother. “If we were together, would I be top or bottom?”
Lucas laughed harder through his tears. “I’m always on top.”
I said, “Bollocks.”
He said, “See? Still funny,” and pressed his index against my nose, smiling miserably.
I still thought about Indie the entire length of the conversation.
Wondering what she’d think about all that.
Alex,
Remember when we first moved to L.A. and promised ourselves we’d never change? That we’d still be the same blokes from the same shitty town with the mutual hate for Manchester FC (fuck ManU, man, fuck ’em). Well, I think it’s suffice to say we all broke that promise.