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It was sunny the day Shayne decided not to go back.
All his life, the concept of love has been this exhilarating, spontaneous, thing. But Shayne knew better, the last time he fell for someone, he had to make an excuse about having sore legs to make up for the fact that he’s been feeling phantom pains since the break-up. It’s still there. It was as if his chest was being hollowed, enlarged, renovated to make room for something grander.
But then, something began to—happen, it was only when Damien joined Smosh did Shayne felt—what was the word for it—wary? Aware? Overtly vigilant over the other man?
Shayne has always been a man of wisdom, he’s in tune with his perception, he’s got his intuition always beside him.
Which is why this thing, whatever the hell it is, is proving to be more of a challenge of control than a challenge of logic.
For almost every day, the cast and crew go out for lunch, they pick a place that was good, food or otherwise, but mostly they side with what was the most convenient. Up until one sunny day when they were told that there would be a one and a half hour delay on the shoot, not only that but, every one suddenly had something else to do except them. Except for Damien and Shayne. Looking back, if Shayne only knew that would be the afternoon that things would finally fall into place, he would’ve wore something more appealing. Something that is not at all an old beanie and a random, semi-clean, shirt he found on the floor of his bedroom that morning.
He felt then that something was different. Damien suggested they eat at a café instead, rather than their old pad Thai place. Not only that, but he also suggested they should sit outside, in the park.
They sat side-by-side on the picnic bench despite it having leg room for at least eight people, Damien with his everything bagel and cold brew, Shayne with a salad plate
(That Damien had teased him about) and iced tea.
Everything was fine. It was nothing. Up until it wasn’t. Because—these sort of things don’t happen to people like Shayne. He’s the thrill of the chase type of person…only if that said chase was planned a few weeks in advance.
“Hey,” Damien nudges Shayne’s side with his elbow, “It’s been a while since we had a chance to hang-out like this,” He said, crumbling their empty paper bags before throwing it in a garbage can ahead of them,” Y’know, just us.” The wind sweeps from their left, bringing along the scent of ozone, of The Santa ana wind, of change.
Shayne sips his iced tea slowly, “Yeah, we’ve been so busy lately, haven’t had the time, I guess.”
Next to him, Damien adjusted his position so they now faced each other, “Shayne. Dude. I’ve been working here for almost two months and I just have to say,” He exhales, “Thank you. I know you’re probably tired of hearing it by now but genuinely, man, thank you for taking a chance on me.”
Shayne can feel the warmth on his side from where Damien sits next to him, relaxed, solid, grateful. He sets his iced tea on the table again, carefully, focusing on the ring of moisture on the table as if it could decipher his thoughts for him.
Damien pauses once before bowing his head to look at Shayne directly, “Dude, you okay? Did I like, say something?”
“No,” Shayne cuts in, eyebrows knotted together, “It’s fine, it’s nothing.”
“No, hey,” Damien says, setting a warm palm near Shayne’s shoulder, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the space where his thin shirt met the flushed (From the sun, Shayne tells himself) skin of his neck. “It’s always something, man, you can tell me, I swear.”
“I know.” Shayne doesn’t
He doesn’t need to look at Damien, he knows his face in detail, but Damien’s looking directly at him now, and—and the sun’s not helping, not helping at all in the ways it cuts through Damien’s strong jaw, or how it molds to the man’s smile as he looks at Shayne with patience, with so much trust. But Shayne’s just there, questioning everything, question what was the difference of this day compared to the countless other days they’ve spent together, he’s seen Damien in various states.
In joy, sadness, feast, and famine. He’s seen him in-love, and he’s seen him fall out of it. Shayne wants to badly ask himself what makes today so special, why was this day, of all days, the one where the other shoe finally drops, leaving Shayne feel as if he’s only a spectator, only looking in.
Shayne nods because he doesn’t trust himself right now to talk.
“Regardless, Shayne, I got you.” Damien smiles, as Shayne tries—and fails—to breathe evenly.
Then, Damien nods once and stands, picking up both him and Shayne’s drinks, he takes a quick sip of the other man’s iced tea before handing it over, “C’mon. Let’s go back.”
Shayne stands beside him; as the air shifts, becomes more humid, the sun beating down on his body was something welcomed, as if he had just resurfaced from being in the cold for so long, “Yeah, let’s go.”
“C’mon. Let’s go back.” Damien had said.
And Shayne wonders if that was even possible.