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George thinks, not for the first time, that he doesn't deserve the man sitting in front of him.
The recording is finished. They're sat on George's bed, facing one another and legs tangled as Alex dutifully removes the disguise, first removing the shades and setting them aside, then the hat, then the bandanna, fingers undoing the knot as deftly as they had tied it. George stares at Alex as he works, thinking that it's ironic he'll let Alex unmask him here and nowhere else, so to speak. Privacy has always been paramount to George, and his love life is among the information he prefers to keep close to his chest.
Even if Alex is part of it now. If anything, it's more reason to keep it mum. Too many eyes from too many directions, scrutinising their every move. No thank you; George feels he doesn't get enough peace as it is.
But it means George fears there's something fundamental missing from their relationship: the ability to actually live it out. It's not like they have to hide when they're around actual friends, and all bets are off when there's nothing to be filmed, but there's still something that nags at him for having to act as though he's single. Not as though it comes up often, but every lie - including those of omission - make something in his chest twist, struck by a pang of guilt for holding Alex back from having all of him.
"Does it bother you?" George asks.
"Does what bother me?" Alex isn't perturbed by the non-sequitur, being accustomed to George sometimes surfacing from brooding thoughts only to bring up a new subject out of the blue. He's running his fingers along George's scalp, brushing out the hat hair.
"Not being able to talk about it." George knows he doesn't have to explain further, since Alex has heard this concern before. Last time he assured George that it didn't matter what the audience thought. George still doesn't know if he fully believes him... hence asking again. Reopening the vein of insecurity that George has never truly been able to stanch.
Alex responds with a look of fond exasperation, and George wishes he could kiss him. He probably will, when Alex has given his answer.
"Mate, we've been over this." His fingers slide down to cup George's face His eyes are a paralysing blue as they lock George in a meaningful gaze. He speaks slowly, emphatically: "I don't care."
George loves him in that instant - in every instant, but especially now, skin alight where Alex is touching him and heart stumbling over itself as he struggles with an unfamiliar compulsion to shout about their relationship from the rooftops. He caves for a moment, allows himself to close the space between them and kiss Alex, hoping that some of what he wants to say will translate silently through the gesture.
It's as though Alex knows that's not the end of it, since he pulls away quicker than usual. His expression is quizzical now - or maybe a bit challenging. "You're the one who keeps bringing it up," he says. "Does it bother you ?"
With a single question, George loses his footing. Somehow in all of his ruminating, he hadn't considered the problem from that angle. For so many months he assumed his guilt had come from his assumptions about Alex's wants and expectations; it never occurred to George that he might be the one frustrated by his own limitations.
"I..." George bites his tongue before he can stammer out a non-answer. His head feels like it's suddenly buzzing with static, or maybe walled by a blue screen, unable to separate his former convictions from this new plausibility. Sharing his love life with the audience still seems tantamount to hopping on camera with his face on display, but he can't deny the rush of exhilaration that strikes him at the thought of having that sort of freedom. It's not even about being soppy in front of millions of viewers - that's still a terrifying concept - but rather the thought of not having to pretend there isn't something present when there very much is.
"Don't get me wrong, I don't think it's anyone's business." Alex has leaned back on his hands now, though he's still looking at George (who's been looking at nothing at all, lost in his thoughts). "But clearly something's up, since you can't let it go."
"I can too let it go," George replies, reinvigorated by indignation... even if Alex is completely right. At the acknowledgement - and Alex's crooked eyebrow of disbelief - his bristling settles almost immediately. "Okay, well, fine. But still -"
Alex's hand finds one of George's and gives it a tight squeeze, cutting off the rambling before it can begin. "We don't owe them anything, mate. We both know it's better to... you know." To keep it on the down low, is the implication. To keep our business away from the audience.
George exhales heavily through his nose. Alex is right, of course he's right; he probably knows better than any of them the risks you run by being public about certain topics. Lacing his fingers through Alex's, George takes a moment to absorb the reminder. The reassurance. He wonders what it will take to reconcile his desire to publicly declare Alex as his own with the many very reasonable calls for utmost privacy.
"I've got an idea, actually," Alex says after a moment. He uses his free hand to gesture at a ring on one of the fingers entwined with George's. "I've got two of these, y'know."
"Are you proposing?" The joke feels strained when George is still so trapped in his own head, but Alex responds with a quiet chuckle.
"I mean, basically." Alex lifts a shoulder, mouth twisted into one of his wry smiles. "Just saying you can have it if you want. Wear it, then..." He glances away, nose wrinkling in a way that seems to say that he knows how ridiculous he's about to sound. When he looks back, there's some colour in his cheeks, but he presses forward anyway. "Then we'll match. It's subtle... but it's something."
George considers the suggestion. He doesn't wear jewellery often - a chain every now and then is about it - so he feels as though a ring might stand out. But maybe that's the point, something a bit of out of place that only a discerning eye might catch. And even then, it wouldn't be as though anyone could draw any solid conclusions from the discovery.
"Huh," is all he manages, looking at their linked hands and picturing one of his own fingers with a matching ring. The more he thinks about it, the more it seems to be the ideal way to silence the guilt chewing at the back of his mind. Symbolic and unspoken - and still fairly private.
"Think about it." Alex forestalls a response by directing George back into a kiss, which the latter accepts gratefully.
George is of two minds - the one dwelling on the thought of the ring, the small token showing the world without words that there's a connection no one actually needs to be told about, and the one focused Alex, on the kiss, on the fact that George still feels he doesn't deserve Alex. But christ, he wants to become the person he feels is worthy of Alex, whatever that means.
He reasons that acknowledging his own wants in how they carry the relationship is probably a large part of that - communication and the like, the usual trappings of healthy couples - and he has to begrudgingly commend Alex for his uncanny ability to get to the root of the problem with almost no effort. At least it's out there now, and there even seems to be a decent way forward.
Despite his steadily growing enthusiasm for Alex's suggestion, there's still a small part of him that balks at the idea of doing anything, no matter how faint, to share the details of his personal life with the audience. Masking himself - both literally and figuratively - has been second nature for most of his life. And oftentimes, opening up to the people around him can be almost as daunting as broadcasting himself to the world.
But as Alex rests their foreheads together as he mumbles something about needing to have a nap (nothing unusual, since George swears Alex spends more time asleep than he does awake), George reflects that there's probably a single person in the world that could coax away the endless shrouds he keeps wrapped around a core of vulnerability, and it's the man right in front of him.
That said, accepting a ring does feel a little bit like getting married, but George doesn't find he minds all that much. People make the jokes anyway, given their living situation (and among their friends, everything else about them); he might as well commit to the bit.
He just won't wear it on the wedding finger. For the time being, anyway.