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The sun was setting, the sky was theirs. And Shayne knows that this was going to be the death of him.
Damien slumps back on his seat and smiles at him lazily, Shayne glances at him before looking away. Everyone except for them had left the table to mingle. He wishes he went along with them. Shayne looks to the side, to the sky that was changing shades the more they sat there. Damien hangs his head back before draping an arm over the chair next to him, catching Shayne’s attention. Shayne looks at him and sees the soft glow of the lanterns highlighting the fullness of the other man’s jaw, how the dark, blue, sky retracts with the lights and covers half his face in a shadow, he tilts his head slightly as it fades from his left eye and cheek. (Rembrandt lighting, Shayne recalls, distantly wondering how in the world Damien did that by accident.)
Shayne huffs a breath before looking back at the sky, the flecks of warm yellow against cool blue, swirling around each other but not quite touching, “Looks like you’ve got enough to drink, Damien.” He said testily, realizing how this was the first full sentence he’s said since they got here.
Damien looks at him for a beat before nodding to the side, “I think I’m good.” He just said, stilted, restrained. Damien leans his elbows on the table, looking at Shayne as he began popping the buttons on his sleeves open before folding the sleeves up to his forearms, his skin has always been so pale, as Shayne looks at what he was wearing and think that his black, long sleeved, shirt suits him too much right now.
The music from the inside of the building thumped distantly, reaching the wide, ivory swirled, balcony they were at. He doesn’t know why Youtube invited them to this event in the first place, everything looked elegant, pristine, even the climbing ivy against the walls seemed to look too perfect, seemed to look suspiciously like plastic.
He runs a palm over the cream-colored tablecloth and thinks about leaving here unscathed, he thinks about bailing on them and hoping they would understand. But then, it was the urge to run away that made him feel like this in the first place.
And Shayne doesn’t want to make a habit of burning more bridges than what was deemed necessary.
“We kissed, Shayne.” Damien says out of nowhere, making Shayne snap his head to look directly at him. Damien purses his lips—a ghost of a smile, before placing his glass between them as if it was a barrier, as if a single wine glass was as strong as a judge’s gavel.
To Shayne, at that moment, it really did feel like a sentencing, “I know.” He swallows, a flash of guilt crosses his face, and he looks away. But something breaks inside him (For a second he thought it was the glass between them) and he looks back at Damien with muted need, a type of longing that Shayne hastily masked with nerves and uncertainty. But traces of it seemed to slip out because Damien lifts an eyebrow at him then leans his body forward to cross his arms on the table.
“Just checking. I thought you forgot.” Damien takes his time, taking the wine glass between them before re-filling it, the dark red liquid splashes inside as Damien picks it up from the rim before swirling it in front of him, “Considering, y’know, you kicked me out and avoided me for a week after it.” Shayne closes his eyes at that. It was sharp, like a needle breaking his skin. He breathes out slowly, opening his eyes, and knowing deep down that he probably deserved it.
Across from him, Damien sighs, catching Shayne a tiny bit off guard, he sets the bottle and wine to his side before aligning himself with Shayne, “I know I’m not being fair. I know I’m being petty. But you have to realize that after what happened, a week is too long to keep someone in the dark.”
Shayne didn’t even realized it had already been a week. It’s been a week since they both decided to play video games at Shayne’s place till midnight. It’s been a week, but he could still feel everything—the breathlessness, the whimpers that escaped them both when they realized they were kissing, the feeling of his fingers curling against Damien’s shirt, pulling him closer, before pushing him away.
Shayne stopped what they were doing and looked at him as if it was one-sided. As if he didn’t wanted anything to happen that night, as if he didn’t wanted it to happen even before then.
The sudden, silent, inhale Damien did when Shayne had asked him to go home played in the background of Shayne’s mind constantly. It didn’t matter what he was doing, it played in his mind like a reminder, a quiet display of penitence.
And Shayne’s only now realizing how much of a masochist he was.
Across from him, Damien sips from his glass slowly, as if pondering something, “I don’t know what happened that night, or what forced you to do what you did but you’ve could’ve told me something. Anything. Instead, you decided to—“ He trailed off, suddenly unsure of himself.
“Decided to what?” Shayne asked, feeling the air shift, the breeze picking up from somewhere and making the hairs on his arms stand. The urge to leave began to claw its way out of his skin, but all the blood from his body rush to his feet, planting it heavy on the polished, marble floors.
“To lock all this behind and convince yourself that was the end of it.” Damien looks to the table between them, to the crystalline glasses that reflected the last of the remaining yellow light from the sky, before looking at him with an expression of hope. A hope that maybe Shayne could prove him wrong, that this was not indeed their bitter end.
Shayne’s head swims, and he struggles to resurface from his thoughts, and Damien knew, because of course he did. He reaches out for Shayne like he was something fleeting and this was the only opportunity to get him in this one space before he floats away.
Before Damien could pull his hand away, Shayne reaches for him back, putting a light grip under his right elbow, “I’m sorry, Damien,” he said quickly, letting go of him before sitting back on his chair, “Before anything else, I want to tell you that I’m sorry.” Damien looks at him for a second, fear evident in his eyes, “And…to be honest. I thought that was it. I messed it up, and I was ready to face whatever storm might come after. But Damien, you have to know that it was the scariest thing I have done in my life. It felt like—it felt like everything was new, fragile. Like we were set to fail before we even began.”
He was ten steps ahead of himself, and he feared the falling out already, he feared that Damien would hurt him, or he would hurt Damien, he had feared of enjoying the take-off but not sticking the landing, “Don’t think I reacted that way because it was with you.” He paused, reaching towards him again, overlapping Damien’s fingers with his delicately, “It’s always been you. And don’t be mad at me if I never really expected to get anything out of it.”
“You were fine with that? With not trying at all?” Damien asked.
“If it meant not destroying our friendship then yes,” Shayne said.
Damien ticks a finger against the table repeatedly, thinking, “Since when?” he said, struggling to maintain eye contact with him as Shayne straightens from his chair and schools his face into neutrality, as if his nerves weren’t on fire, as if his hands weren’t shaking from where it rested atop Damien’s on the table.
“When you brought me coffee on set when I was broke and exhausted.” Shayne answered plainly.
Damien huffs out, eyebrows drawn upward and looking at him with a tinge of sadness, of sympathy, his fingers twitch as he slips it away from Shayne’s before reaching for his glass and emptying the remaining wine in one gulp.
“Shayne,” he starts, fully blanking to complete his sentence, “That was years ago, back in So Random.”
Shayne smiles slowly, nodding.
And for whatever reason, Damien matches his smile, tilting his head at him, and—and need rises from Shayne’s stomach as a wave would the shore. Consuming him entirely, then drawing back as quick as it had arrived.
The music from inside loudens before settling back with a faint thumping, the sky from before was the patchwork shades of dark blue, and Shayne remembers what he thought earlier, about black being Damien’s color, he takes it back with pride and changes it, because black was fatalistic, for dread and misery. Damien was the dark blue sky, he felt like rain after years of drought.
Just then, the others come back to sit around them, for a second Shayne had feared that their trance would shatter, that they would pull away and never mention this again. He smooths the front of his dress shirt before scooting his seat as Ian occupies the seat next to him, taking off his glasses before wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Didn’t realized you guys stayed at the table.” Ian said to both of them, as Shayne notices how tired they all looked, silently grateful he didn’t actually joined them despite what he thought earlier.
“Yeah, we figured the air was nicer out here than in there.” Damien quips across from him, “Besides, dancing’s not really our thing.”
A flash of a smile briefly lights Shayne’s face before he crosses his arms and decides to seize the moment, “We aren’t in a ‘dance around’ mood now, especially when the air is finally clear.” Shayne looks directly at Ian but felt Damien tense across from him.
Ian narrows his eyes at him, “What? Are you talking in codes now?” he said as he wipes his glasses on the tablecloth before putting them on again, Shayne just shrugs innocently, as Ian shakes his head and turns toward Courtney and the others instead.
When Shayne had looked back to Damien, he was staring at him incredulously, “What?” Shayne mouthed at him with a smile.
“You’re an idiot,” Damien mouthed back, elbow propped on the table, smiling back at him.
The night felt more alive now, Shayne briefly notes, it felt like there was electricity in the air, as if it lived in their fingertips and in the way they both cannot stop looking at each other without smiling.
If Shayne wanted to, he could pretend like nothing happened, like he didn’t just laid his feelings bare and hoped Damien would treat it with kindness. But Damien did treat it with kindness, and he simply didn’t plan for that. He expected a brief conversation that they should forget what happened a week ago, which Shayne can understand. It’s why he dreaded to come to this event in the first place, It really says a lot about him as a person to plan for the worst scenarios and then feel absolutely floored when something works out in the end.
Damien taps the back of his hand with his finger twice, reeling him back, lifting both eyebrows at him, “You good?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Shayne nodded as Damien looks directly at him, at his eyes, his lips, before looking at the sky and down to his watch. He glances at Shayne again before facing their friends and attempting to get Ian’s attention, “Hey, man, I know it’s too early, but I have to go.”
Shayne doesn’t react outwardly, a wave of confusion washes over him as he remains quiet and decides to watch what Damien was trying to do slowly unfold itself.
“We all aren’t going to stay too late out anyway so It’s all good, Damien.” Ian said, as Olivia pauses her conversation with Courtney to look at them.
“Yeah, uh, thanks, dude.” Damien stops and it clicks to Shayne what Damien was doing. “If like, one of y’all want a ride home or something….” Damien trailed off.
Olivia fully turns to look at them now as Shayne scrambles on what to say without looking too eager to volunteer, “I could use a ride out.” Shayne stood as he looked straight at Damien, careful of his body language, careful of giving too much away to his friends.
Damien has always been better at Shayne with these kinds of things, he could easily put on a normal face and no one would know the difference, he nods at Shayne before standing, rounding their table to say good-bye to everyone individually.
Shayne follows suit, patting Ian on the back, hugging Courtney from the side, before reaching Olivia as she looks up at him and lays a graceful hand on his collar, smoothing it out, “Saw what you two pulled back there,” She whispered, “How many of it was rehearsed?”
Shayne opens his mouth before closing it again, he was about to launch into an explanation before Olivia stops him with a hand on his shoulder, her face changing in an instant, “Bye, Shayne!” She said cheerfully, but her eyes said otherwise, she knew Shayne owed him an explanation, just not tonight.
“Bye, Liv,” He said before turning away from her and saying goodbye to Keith and Noah last.
Damien slips next to him, “You ready to go?” he asked, as they both gave one last wave to everyone before turning away and walking inside the loud ballroom.
The ballroom, Shayne notes, was a wildly formal term for the chaos that was unfolding around them. It seems the modern roman architecture the entire building has loses its credibility once it’s introduced to a few futuristic looking speakers, a dance floor with colorful led tiles, or perhaps the gigantic disco ball in the middle of the room that acted as a chandelier.
Damien led them out of the sea of bodies with a hand on the small of Shayne’s back, guiding him. A few familiar faces stand out from the crowd, Youtubers they are friends with, a few they’ve collabed with, but Shayne didn’t had the time to look at each person they pass as Damien speaks up next to him, voice trying to talk above the music, “Weird timing, I know, but I’ve been thinking about earlier. About you saying you’ve been feeling it since then.”
“Yeah?” Shayne asked, voice as loud as his.
“See, mine wasn’t like that, and I’m sorry in advanced if it’s not what you expect but—“ The stuffiness of the room was starting to clear as they both reached the exit.
“Mine was after a few months when you got me in Smosh,” Damien huffs as he opens the spruce double doors, “Mine started when we were at the wild west for summer games.” Cool, night, air, hits them as they step outside, standing to face each other on the marbled stairs of the building, leaving the party behind and exchanging it with a place where crickets sound from the trees and the sweet, heady, aroma of sweet pea envelopes their senses.
Damien reaches out to him again,(—as if he was something fleeting) looking at him like he could not quite convince himself of it, he trails a cold finger from Shayne’s cheek to the edge of his jaw, “Just making sure this is real and I’m still not stuck in that place, hallucinating from a heatwave.”
Shayne chuckles, shaking from nerves but half-filled with determination, he looks up at Damien, leaning in slowly, as his chest twists and threatens to flood him with love. Damien does not quite close the kiss, instead, he places a hand on his lower back, patient, tentative, as if he’s giving Shayne a way out in case he changes his mind.
He greatly appreciates it, but the other man should know that pulling away from him now was the last thing Shayne wanted to do. So, he pushes himself further into Damien’s space and kisses him, unhurried, not at all like their kiss a week ago.There was no confusion, no feeling of dissatisfaction that made his stomach churn and his blood turn cold.
This was what their first kiss should’ve been, this is what he believed. What he deprived himself of for years. Shayne pulls away, smiles, and pushes back in.
The moon was out, the night is theirs. And Shayne knows now that he doesn’t have to be so fatalistic.