Chapter Text
The spring breeze blew out of the open window, it would’ve made him shiver if the pale sheets around him hadn’t wrapped him up warmly. The firm side against his chest also helped arm that wrapped around him cushioning his head. Despite how comforting the scene was, Simon couldn’t bring himself to look into the eyes of his lover, the argument back home fresh on his mind. He had ended up here in the first place because of it, mask gripped so tightly in his hands the porcelain nearly broke, and John MacTavish opened the door with wide, concerned eyes that had him crumble into his embrace instantly.
“We should go on a picnic, perfect weather,” he mumbled into Simon’s hair, his fingers drawing useless shapes on his back, “we could go to your favor—“
“I’m getting married,” Simon choked out, and Johnny tensed underneath him.
There was only the sound of leaves rustling for a long moment, and even the warm sheets couldn’t help fend off the cold wash of dread dripping down his back. Not when Johnny’s arms were sliding away from him slowly. It took a herculean effort to bring himself to look into John’s eyes, knowing the turmoil and heartbreak that will be there. Anger, too, perhaps; because Simon failed the one promise they made to each other.
Two men could not wed, but they’d promised they’d keep themselves for each other, only for each other. No one else, no one to break the heart of, no one to cheat on. Emotionally, and physically. Simon knew he couldn’t ever love a woman the way he loved Johnny, something he’d considered a flaw, a mistake, a problem until that fateful day when Johnny held his face in his hands and kissed his eyelids gently.
Something as soft and sweet as that could never be a sin like his father said, Johnny could never be a mistake; the whole world could be wrong but never Johnny.
“My father…” Simon started; his lips almost quivering when he finally met Johnny’s eyes. No anger, no hurt, no heartbreak. It was worse, Johnny stared at him blankly, no emotion in his eyes, “Tommy refused to—Johnny, I—I tried I swear. I’m the only other heir and…” there was no explanation that could make it worth it in his eyes, he knew it was horrible of him to concede. Even if it came after thrown plates and hoarse voices, his mother crying in his lap at his father’s anger; and the threat of Tommy being forced to marry a woman he couldn’t love because his lover was waiting for him in the village.
Simon was the only blank card in his family, no one knew of his affinity; or at least, no one mentioned it. He and Johnny would get side eyes at every event their families hosted, but it was easily shrugged off as childhood best friends turned business partners being close. After all, how could they not be? After nearly a decade of living street to street, the farthest distance they’ve lived from each other was when Johnny moved into his current house, a mere jog away from the main family house.
His father wanted a grandson, someone he knew would continue the legacy, the Riley family name needing to be held up high even after his death. It was no secret that Riley Senior hated both his sons, and saw no worth in them. His torment to them was enough, turned even worse after the accident that took most of Simon’s face away. Turned him into the village folk tale, someone people swore was a monster; only because of the scars on his face.
It only made Simon strive to prove people wrong, he inherited his father’s finances at the small age of sixteen. Made sure all the business partners that his father dealt with knew he was fit, even more than Tommy, even more than his cousins. He succeeded, until he was old enough to wed, but refused every wife offered to him.
It worked, until his twenty-seventh birthday, when Tommy put his foot down about arranged marriages. His father had turned to Simon with fire in his eyes, singled him out, and promised he’ll end the month with a wife.
No amount of screaming or crying could change the outcome, Riley Senior promised to shackle Simon and drag him to the wedding if he has to. That promise led to this moment, in Johnny’s arms, tears that dried starting to form again.
“I thought Tommy- “
“No, he loves that girl, remember?”
“Simon…” Johnny breathed out, in disappointment or defeat, eyes trailing away from him to the open window. The world seemed far too bright outside for their situation, a cruel thing, how the nicest summer day they’d passed this year comes today. The day Simon felt like his heart had shattered, giving up on his dream to only be with his love.
“I’m sorry, Johnny,” Simon whispered, pushing himself up as John backed away more, eyes distant, “I don’t even know who she is, not even a name. You know…you know I only love you, always, forever.” He tried reaching for Johnny’s hand, only having the courage to latch onto his fingers, intertwining them on the bed. Their bed, the bed that held them together for years. It was only fair he confessed on it.
“Run away with me,” Johnny said, and Simon’s mouth opened in shock, closing again as Johnny leaned in. He brought up their hands, holding Simon’s to his chest, eyes wide and sparkling with hope, “like we always said, go somewhere far away; only us. No families to pry, no villages to whisper. Just us, me and you, Simon; like we always dreamed”
Oh, how pretty that dream was. Johnny had often spoken about it, with so much fondness and hope that Simon couldn’t help but begin to imagine as well. Summer nights where they could sleep in the same bed for as many nights in a row as they wished, kissing in their backyard as they drink tea and Johnny drawing in his journal. A dog, perhaps, or a kitten like the one Johnny had as a child. Holding hands while they read together, unafraid of someone spotting them through a window or over a fence. A pretty, picture-perfect dream that was so, so far away from reality for men like them.
Dreams weren’t meant to be lived, Simon knew, only whispered about in reverence and want.
Simon was the next heir to his family crest, and Johnny despite being the youngest, was the only male offspring of the MacTavish clan. Also, the holder of his family legacy.
They couldn’t abandon them; Simon couldn’t abandon Tommy and his mother. Even as his heart soared at the idea of just…leaving to be with Johnny. To fulfill their dreams, he knew their guilt would slowly crush them. Johnny loved his sisters, each and every single one, and treasured his mother more than he treasured himself. She had always made sure Johnny knew how proud she was he’d be the family name holder after his father passed, how she couldn’t wish for a better son.
Simon wouldn’t leave his father’s wrath to his brother and poor mother; they’d already taken the brunt of it when he was younger. Shielding him until he was older enough to face off against his father. If he disappeared, no less, disappeared at the same time as Johnny; the rumors would grow, and so would Riley Senior’s anger. His brother would be forced to marry, and his mother would take many more nights of screaming and closed fists.
He couldn’t, he wouldn’t do this. Not to Johnny and his family, not to his brother and mother.
Johnny must’ve seen it in his face, because the glitter that looked far too close to a galaxy in his eyes faded. Hope, disappeared in a blink; and Simon’s hands were empty as Johnny backed away from him.
“Johnny…”
“Why?” he asked, and this was the moment Simon dreaded. Red was filling Johnny’s cheeks, eyes starting to glaze over with unshed tears. Heartbreak, Simon hated himself for being the reason lip quivered slightly, “We can do it…We can be us”
“I know,” Simon whispered, “but we can’t leave them behind”
“And me?” Johnny said, voice so quiet Simon almost couldn’t hear him, “it’s alright if you leave me behind?”
“I’d never- “
“You are!” Johnny accused, temper running hot as he stood from the bed, throwing the sheets nearly in Simon’s face, “you’re choosing to be your father’s loyal dog! I asked you one thing Simon, One.” Johnny’s face broke, shoulders shaking with anger and betrayal, “I loved you”
“Don’t say it like that,” Simon pleaded, “I love you, Johnny, you. You, I would never choose this, I…”
“Then leave! Leave with me” Simon could almost hear the please that didn’t dare escape Johnny’s lips. “You won’t…you never chose yourself before…”
“Johnny,” Simon tried, as if one word could express how he was feeling, how he was breaking slowly with every second that passed.
“Don’t say you love me, Simon,” Johnny said, almost coldly if it weren’t for the hot tears running down his red-tinted cheeks, “you…I…I can’t be your mistress, Simon.” He rubbed the tears away with his sleeves, sniffing in a way that felt final; as if he was ending a thought. “If you’re a married man, we can’t…”
“Don’t, please, Johnny- “
“No, Simon,” John shook his head, wiping stubbornly at his face as another tear fell, “It’s not fair. You’ll never be mine, and I won’t break her heart, I’m not that selfish and cruel”
Simon could nearly hear his heart-shattering in two, frozen, staring at Johnny’s reddened eyes and tear-stained face. He knew his face mirrored it, and only hoped his anguished showed, but it made no difference.
Johnny shoved Simon’s coat into his chest, silently kicking him out.
-
Simon sat quietly as Tommy gently fastened his newly fixed mask behind his head. The guests had already begun to arrive, the sound of lively chatter and excited whispers filling the courtyard. He didn’t care, his heart had been numb for the months of his engagement. He didn’t care about much of anything, conceding all the planning to his wife-to-be, Valeria, and his father.
He’d only met her twice, the day of the engagement, and another on the day they’d bought their new home. She was nice, a strong, fierce woman that any man would fear and admire. She was kind, in her own way, and Simon suspected she did not intend to marry either. If the harsh glances her parents gave her after every opinion she spit made any reference.
She deserved better, better than him. He couldn’t be a husband to her, even as he tried to pretend, his own pleasantries were hollow to his ears. An earful had been given to him after their first meeting, his father promising a fate worse than death if Simon scared her off. No other woman of a good name would agree to take him, Valeria and her family were only desperate because she was approaching thirty. Unmarried and with no male heir to their family name.
It was all stupid, in Simon’s opinion. He would never understand how a name could warrant the heartbreak of so many people. Valeria, married out of need and not love. Simon, whose heart would never belong to anyone else than Johnny.
And Johnny, who’d disappeared two weeks after his final words with Simon. Gone back to Glasgow to stay with his grandparents for an impromptu business project, or at least that’s what his sister had told Simon.
It was his fault, no denial of it. Simon had broken Johnny’s heart and trust. Nearly seven years of loving each other were thrown out the window because he’d been too afraid to step up to his father, or leave his family away.
Simon didn’t realize he’d been crying, silent heartbroken tears falling from his eyes until his mother gently wiped them away.
“Oh, Si…” he said sadly, eyes understanding him without any words exchanged. He wanted to weep, sob and scream. Tear away the suit that’d been tailored, break off the mask again. He wanted to rip every flower that dared blossom in Johnny’s absence and drowns in every raindrop that he wasn’t here to revere. Everything was made for Johnny, and inexplicable anger filled him every time he’d noticed something Johnny would’ve made them stop so he can draw it. He wasn’t here, and somehow it was worse than seeing him without being able to touch him.
He wanted, so badly, to throw a fist to his father’s face. Spit in his eyes and march to Glasgow, pull Johnny into his arms, and tell him that yes, yes, love, I’ll go with you. I promise I’ll go where you go.
“It’ll be okay, my baby,” his mother whispered, hands pushing his tear-ridden face into her stomach where she stood and he sat. Simon couldn’t help but sob, entire frame quivering with the intensity, “it’ll be alright, child, I promise, baby” It wouldn’t, it would never be alright again.
Simon’s life was destined to end in an hour when the rings and empty vows are exchanged. He’ll have a wife he has to pretend to love, and get a child he’ll pretend he’s happy for. Live a life of empty smiles and an equally empty house. He’ll spend every day wishing it was Johnny in his arms, every day that it was Johnny he’d meet in the morning for breakfast. That Johnny was the one to say goodnight to, and good morning to. That it was Johnny who’d he be buying his first house with.
But it could never be this way, and it was all of his own making.
“I don’t want to,” Simon sobbed, positive he’d tear-stained his mother’s dress, but he couldn’t care less, not when the breath caught so harshly in his throat it felt like he was doomed to choke on his own grief, “I don’t want her, mum, not her…”
“I know, Simon, darling,” she cradled his head with so much gentleness it could almost rival Johnny’s, but it’d never make him feel safe like Johnny’s hands did. Never quell the eternal torment or make his head go quiet like Johnny did. “I’m sorry, Simon, I’m sorry, darling”
In the end, he had to pull himself together, his father’s booming voice demanding to know why he hadn’t gone to greet the guests yet. His mother had hurriedly wiped his tears away with her dress sleeve, leaving in a flurry of cloth and bouncing hair to keep his father out of the room for a moment or two longer.
Tommy had gone in much the same fashion, apologetic eyes thrown towards his younger brother as he called to distract his father.
And Simon was left alone, heart shattered in so many pieces, not a god or deity could piece it back together. Not if their name was not John MacTavish.
Simon sighed heavily, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked absolutely wrecked, eyes bloodshot and puffed up from his outburst, dark shadows underneath them from nearly a month of staying up and wondering how he could fix this. If he could fix this. His father had ordered him to shave, but it was uneven, only hidden briefly by the mask that covered half his face, but not his eyes. He was nearer to a widower than a groom.
If he imagined hard enough, this could be his and Johnny’s wedding. The black suit contrasted with his pale skin in a way he knew Johnny appreciated. Johnny would wear his own dashing suit; the one Simon had straightened the lapels of countless times. They’d be standing opposite each other, and Simon would tie Johnny’s tie because he never bothered to learn. Not when Simon was more than happy to do it for him.
It took many deep breaths for him not to crumble again, shoving open his drawer only to find something that nearly brought him to tears again.
All the trinkets Johnny had picked up and handed to him. The dry pressed clover he’d promised would bring Simon good luck, the pen that had their initials itched amateurly on by a twenty-year-old Johnny; soon after their first night together.
The locket he’d given him on their first kiss, a promise that this was real, and that Johnny will always love him.
More devastatingly, the handkerchief Johnny used to wipe his hysteric tears, that night he’d broken it off with Simon. The MacTavish emblem still shone in gold thread, much like the Riley family had. Only this one had a square with J.M sewn into it, a beautiful flowering design behind it to frame it.
He didn’t remember putting it in his drawer, but he’s thankful he still has his remnants of Johnny never the less.
Simon feels the weight of the locket in his hands, the cold metal warming quickly as he unlocks it and stares fondly at the picture inside. Both of them, as children, the very first day the MacTavish family moved in across their yard. Simon had been only twelve, Johnny an eleven-year-old with a voice that rang across the entire street.
Oh, his heart ached with bittersweetness. Something so dear to him is lost in an instant, and Simon has a terrible inkling the guilt will never leave him.
The locket is familiar around his neck, he doesn’t bother tucking it underneath his shirt. The world can see he loved Johnny, he hopes somehow he could tell him again, that if he asked, he’d run away.
But Johnny was a better man than he could ever be, would tell him he had a wife now, someone he needed to care for. Not to ruin the name of, Valeria didn’t deserve it, it wasn’t her fault she’d been stuck to him.
Simon silently tucks in Johnny’s handkerchief in his breast pocket, over his heart, hiding the J.M engraving but letting the golden threaded design at the opposite end poke out. It wouldn’t be easy to distinguish whether or not it was the MacTavish or Riley household, but he’d always know Johnny was close to his heart on his wedding day.
Exiting the room, Simon didn’t smile at the few family members that had been waiting inside. An estranged uncle, and a few new nephews he’d never met before. His aunt from Essex, who he’d had no contact with for at least twelve years.
They cooed at him, being so grown, taller than any other family member. Pointedly ignoring the scars that poked out underneath his mask as they coddled his face and wiped off the invisible dust on his shoulders.
Outside was no less suffocating, Simon saying nothing but quiet thank you’s and feeling great to those who asked. His father dragged him into a conversation nearly by the ear, one where he stood and nodded silently, uninterested and wishing he could run out of the entire wedding.
It was sad because it was pretty. The vineyard was in full spring, bright red grapes making the scene lively. Their yard overlooking it, was decorated with white flowers and bright green grass that had been trimmed to a perfect T. His father had oversaw everything, from the chairs that had been plated gold, to the candles that were hung on every window and on every table.
The first Riley offspring to marry, no one mentioned how it was the younger Riley son. Tommy had kept his head low and kept to the side with his friends that visited for the wedding.
Simon scanned the wedding scene, heart-wrenching even more at the sight of the MacTavish family already seated, all four sisters, father, and mother. Missing a son, and it sorely sticks out. At least to him, because his eyes always sought out Johnny first.
When the sky began to darken, the priest was called for, and Simon had to come face-to-face with Valeria once more. Pretending the tears in his eyes were from happiness as she walked down the aisle. She was beautiful, a perfect image of a wife any man would want. Pretty flowing long hair, tanned skin that shone with health, and a deep pair of brown eyes that sparkled with the candlelight. Beautiful features framed by the veil she wore.
But he didn’t want that, he wanted the pale blue eyes, the strong jaw, and short cropped hair. He wanted Johnny’s slightly crooked nose from a childhood full of adventures, wanted his strong features, his full lips, and his slightly stubbled jaw.
His vows had been barely three sentences, and Valarie’s had promised him the same. Life, love, in sickness, and health. The routine everyone expected to hear at every wedding. There was no life, no joy as they exchanged their rings. His heart hammers as the priest announces them husband and wife, the crowd cheering, and his father glaring at him when he didn’t move in for a kiss to seal.
Valeria gives him a small smile, almost broken, and he moved slowly; hands barely brushing her hip as he kisses her. Cold, unloving, nothing like the kisses he used to share a few months ago with Johnny. Nothing like how their bodies would melt, chest to chest, hands tugging at each other. Nothing like the soft drag of lips, how Johnny would rest his forehead against his for a moment after each kiss, or his hand would come to gently brush his scars.
His mask makes it awkward for Valeria to reciprocate, but he doesn’t care, her soft lips covered only half of his own. He wished it was none.
It was only a second, and he pulled back with more fever than he went in, hoping his disdain didn’t show to the guests. He scanned the yard, full of family and friends celebrating.
His eyes catch a figure hanging far away, almost leaning against the fence of their yard.
Simon’s eyes almost brim with tears again, watching Johnny lift a glass of whatever his choice for the night was. A silent toast, the distance between them might as well have been a sea. The only reason he hadn’t jumped to him was Valeria’s hand gently clasped around his, and the voice of his father booming a speech about longevity and prosperity. Something he didn’t care about.
His eyes remained on Johnny, who looked, even from afar, more beautiful than the moon that hung brightly above him. Johnny was sipping his drink slowly, eyes stuck on him just the same, and Simon wished he was the cup that touched Johnny’s lips. Wished he was the liquid dulling his senses, wished he could be close to him again, wished he’d run away when he had the chance.
The weight of the ring on his finger could almost be ignored under Johnny’s watchful eyes, the hand squeezing his own might as well be the wind. All he could feel is Johnny’s heavy gaze, making the entire world seem dull and unnecessary.
It was torture, it was heaven, his heart was beating so fast he couldn’t breathe, but his lungs hadn’t been clearer. His mind was full of every thought he wished he could say, every I love you lost to paper and closed walls, but completely empty with only the image of Johnny floating around.
They’d cut the cake, and ate it. Simon barely looked at Valeria, but she took it in stride, making conversation with her new mother-in-law, and getting to know Tommy as he quietly made a few comments about the stories shares.
Simon wished he could see Johnny, but the MacTavish family was seated behind him. He could hear him, his accent floating over all his relatives, rising above the other Scots around him. Smooth, deep voice that had talked him into sleep for so many days, was now behind him, laughing quietly at something his sister said.
It felt like an eternity before dinner was called off, waiter staff swooping in and easily lifting off the empty plates. Guests slowly filtered into their house, Valeria squeezed his arm and he nodded dully, standing to follow her inside. His mother leads them, father already having paired up with his business group and started smoking cigars deep in his private office. Uncaring to parade his son longer, nor keep his arm around his wife as other couples did.
Ironic, seeing as Simon was trying his hardest to ignore Valeria’s existence for a moment, but his father supposedly married out of love, and was not forced.
“Simon” Johnny’s voice made him freeze, falling steps behind his mother and Valeria, turning on his heel uncaring if they called him back or not.
For all the words he wrote down in burnt letters, for all the words he cried into his pillows. Simon could only stand, almost mesmerized by Johnny. He was still so beautiful, so pretty in a way no human should have the right to be. Angelic, is what he’d call him. Positive that if he was born a thousand years ago he’d have started a religion just from Johnny’s image. His smile, his bright eyes, and long thick lashes that any gal would be jealous of. His full lips that Simon wanted to badly to press his own against, knowing exactly what he’d taste like. Whiskey and the mint he chews regularly, and something so specifically Johnny that he could never replicate.
His mind screamed I love you I love you I love you a choir that refused to stop singing, and at the same time a cacophony of I’m sorry I’m sorry Please I’m sorry.
“Johnny,” Simon breathed out, a small prayer he hoped would carry all the grief at his departure, all the relief at his presence, “you’re back…”
“For a while,” Johnny smiled softly, “you make a fine bridegroom”
“Johnny, please,” Simon pleaded, for what, he didn’t know.
Hearing his love call him a groom might have broken the last shreds of whatever thread he’d been savoring, protecting with all he could; hoping that they could somehow, somehow get over this and be just like they used to be. Just Simon and Johnny, alone in Johnny’s private home and holding each other by the burning fire, reading books together and hearing Johnny make fun of his tea drinking habits regularly.
Johnny sighed, kicking the grass underneath him, hands now in his pockets, “I hope you’d let yourself be happy, Simon”
“Not without you,” Simon promised, vowed, more meaningful that the rehearsed lines he’d said to Valeria, “I love you”
“Don’t, Simon”
“please”
“I’m engaged,” Johnny admitted.
Simon’s whole world tilted on its axis, heart nearly physically stopping in his chest as Johnny looks at him seriously. It’s funny, almost, if his heart wasn’t being trampled as he stands. He gets it, now, the silence that followed after his own admission to Johnny of his own marriage. The tight grip on his lungs, the hurt.
“Don’t look at me like that, Si, you’re a married man”
“I didn’t want this!” Simon snarled, two months of missing Johnny, two months of wondering if he’d wounded his heart. Two months of crying himself to sleep, of hating every breath he took that drove away his lover. Two months of grief, anger, and depression. He could only wonder if Johnny had felt it at all, or if his tears at their goodbye were only in frustration.
“It was time,” Johnny said simply, “and the girl is nice, she’s- “
“I don’t give a shit if she’s a saint, Johnny, you-you,” Simon’s voice wavered so much he had to breathe in, sounding two seconds away from either a meltdown or a breakdown, he’d take either at this point, “You left me when it wasn’t even my choice”
“I asked you to come with me!”
“And abandon them?” Simon yelled, pointing behind him to where, thankfully, the party was in full swing. Music playing and people dancing and drinking, “you know what my father would do to them, you know what he did to me now wonder what they’d do to them!”
“I’m sorry,” Johnny shook his head, “You were right, Simon, we weren’t ma- “
“No, no I was wrong,” Simon hissed, voice cracking dangerously, “can’t you see? I’m nothing, Johnny, please, I’m nothing without you. I’ll run away, I’ll do anything,” he begged, eyes overflowing with tears, nose flaring as he tried to breathe in properly. He looked like a wreck. He looked pathetic he knew it, but he didn’t care.
He couldn’t take it, ripping off his mask with so much violence the thread snapped from around his ears. Simon firmly placed it against Johnny’s chest, who stared at him with something unexplainable, a mixture of disbelief and sadness, and something else.
“Please, please, please,” Simon pleaded, stepping closer to Johnny, “it’s only you, Johnny. I was so stupid to deny you, an idiot. I’ll never forgive myself for not running away with you, Johnny, but please give me a chance. Please, I’ll do anything, anything.”
Johnny’s face fell into something so soft, it almost wounded Simon more. It wasn’t the face of someone about to agree to him, the same face he’d see on kind women gently turning away unfit suitors. The same expression that would be followed with a sentence that started with ‘oh,…”
“You have nothing to do, Simon,” Johnny whispered softly, hand coming up to cradle his scarred face, thumb gently running across his harshest scar. The one that ran from his temple to the corner of his mouth, “You can never be mine, fully, you have too much waiting for you”
“I’ll figure it out, I can get them out, Johnny. Away from father-”
“No, Simon,” Johnny huffed slightly, hand falling away from Simon’s face as he stepped away. Simon was still gripping his mask tightly, now pulling it to his own chest at Johnny’s refusal, “I will always love you”
“Then why are you leaving?”
“Because it isn’t fair,” Johnny said, “you’ve got a wife now, Si, she depends on you. What’s done is done, our silly romance- “
“Silly?” Simon asked, in a heartbroken whisper, “this was silly to you?”
Johnny stayed silent, staring at his feet as Simon hoped, begged, prayed that he takes it back. What they had was so much more than silly romance, it was his everything. The only reason he kept up with his horrible father, of his suffocating family expectations. The only thing that kept him afloat, away from the rumors of him being a murderer, a monster, all because of his face.
“You were the only real thing in my life, Simon,” Johnny said truthfully, “I love you; I’ll always do. I know you will too, but… what’s done is done”
“Why are we done? Why can’t we be again, like we’ve always been? Go back to how we were?”
“These women in our lives did nothing wrong, to be betrayed like this,” Johnny sighed, “please, Simon, let me go. Love your wife, give your father the boy he so desperately wants, and forget me”
“Will you forget me?”
“Never, Simon,” Johnny promised, with a sad smile, “but you’ve always been better than me, love”
-
Valeria’s hands were warm, as they have been every time she touched him. She’d only held his face in place as she wiped the exposed corner of his lips, mask now firmly back on. He reeked of bourbon and whiskey, something he had sneered and turned up his nose at before, never one to drink. But he thinks, tonight, he has an excuse to be a slob, and rent some of his father’s habits for a day.
She was a saint, Valeria, guiding him when he’d been too drunk to get in the carriage on his own. Held his head up when he’d nearly tilted out, arms clasped around him as she guided them to their new home. Nothing like the wedding night she deserved, and Simon makes a note to try and apologize when his heart wasn’t actively being ripped out of his heart.
“You’re a mess, Simon” She always said his name wrong, something closer to Simone than Simon. He didn’t care, letting her mauver him however she pleased. After all, what’s the point to fight? Might as well put up the act the entire world, and his world, Johnny, wanted him to.
“I can make it up, for you, Valeria,” he slurred, debauched even to his own ears. He nearly cringes at how sleazy it sounded, hating how much he sounded like his father. Valeria huffed, pulling his jacket off with a harsh pull.
“Whatever you say,” she mumbled, then, something in Spanish. He hadn’t yet learned the language, on account of not being notified his wife was from Mexico, only immigrating to Britain to maintain her father’s business. The first female heir, seeing as her father hadn’t gotten a son, but she maintained her position as a force to be reckoned with well. Simon couldn’t imagine her as anything but the powerful woman she was.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” Simon promised, “I’ll be anything you want me to be, whatever makes you happy” she, at least, deserved that. He’d destroy himself to build whatever image would fit her, harden or melt himself, be the picture-perfect husband everyone expected him to be. He would make sure to kiss her good morning and goodnight like he wished he could kiss Johnny. He would tell her he loves her, just like he wished he could tell Johnny. He would love her with care and gentleness, hold her with reverence and awe, like he held Johnny before, and wished he could again.
“I want nothing from you, Simon,” Valeria said, and Simon snorted, hearing his name again from her lips.
“It’s Simon, Si-mon no E at the end, dear” The nickname sounded like mocking, but he hadn’t meant it so, only trying out what he’s stuck with for the rest of his life.
“Si, mi Amor” Valeria rolled her eyes, and that Simon understood, “lift your feet up”
He complied, silently, letting her take off his shoes and socks, then pants. Slowly sliding them off until he was only in his undergarments. Unclipping his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt. Simon mentally prepared himself for whatever she asked him next, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as her hands skimmed over his now naked chest.
Simon hadn’t been looked at by anyone other than Johnny, no one had touched him, past a rouge kiss as a teenager with his old neighbor. He doesn’t flinch when Valeria puts a hand on his shoulder, only hoping the disgust he feels at the touch doesn’t show on his face.
“Oh, Si-mon,” she articulated, “You’re something else”
“Whatever you want,” he sounded weak, almost broken. As fragile as he felt, this was it, he knew. He’s a wed man, and wedded men sleep with their wives. They bring children to their parents. They please their wives. He wouldn’t like it, much like he didn’t like anything in his life. Anything except Johnny.
He needs to stop thinking like that, Johnny wasn’t his anymore. Would never be again, their paths have diverged, John was engaged to a high society woman somewhere overseas, he hadn’t caught the country when Johnny’s sister rattled happily about it.
He was married to a beautiful and one-of-a-kind woman, he’ll teach himself to love her, and give her the life she deserves. At the very least, love her more than his father loved his mother. Make sure she’s always cared for, though he doubted she needed him much for that.
Simon doubted she needed him at all.
“Estas tan perdido, Simon,” She whispered, pulling up the newly bought cotton cover to Simon’s chest, fluffing the pillow under his head, “I want nothing. I know.”
“Know?”
“I saw you, you and that man,” She explained, and Simon’s heart filled with dread as he pushed himself up, holding onto her arm tightly. She’d seen, she knows, and knowledge like that would end them up killed. There was no love or acceptance for men like them, he’d seen it first hand, his father dragging him by the elbow at the ripe age of nine to watch a man get beaten to death. A dirty homosexual they’d called him, as his father and his friends kicked and beat the poor man, then discarded their cigars over his bloody broken body.
He could imagine Johnny’s face clearly, instead of that man, his father in a rampage killing him for touching his son. Even if his son had begged for it with reverence, and melted under the touch.
“What did you see?” he snarled, suddenly sober, heart hammering in his chest.
Valeria rolled her eyes, pulling her arm out of his grip, “Ten cuidado tonto!” she hissed, rubbing where an imprint of his hand had started to redden, “So dramatic, you’re not the first I’ve met, only the first to be pathetic about it!” and just like that, she was a changed woman, from the kind and gentle words. The slightly suspicious glances she gave him, to the fierce woman his father had warned him about, “You love him, no?”
“Don’t bring him into this,” Simon hissed.
“Oh, boo-hoo,” Valeria shook her head, “I saw you, begging him, looking at him, moments after our vows,” she said, taking off her heels and slapping them haphazardly on the wooden floor.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Simon pleaded, feeling like this night had been nothing but begging on his end. His emotions had been wrung high and dry and then soaked, only to be suffocated again, he could almost feel. Headache blossoming just from the number of events that happened, or maybe it was the booze.
Valeria snorted, pulling off her veil in a sweeping motion, her long hair falling from the small bun she’d tied it up in after their vows.
“My lips are sealed, Simon,” she said his name wrong again, but Simon didn’t care, he feels as though it was intentional, “You’re doing a horrible job of hiding it, I don’t need to say anything for people to see”
“See?” Simon asked, “do they know?”
“There’s always talk,” Valeria shrugged, “they say your father sleeps with his exports manager, too” Simon’s face scrunches at that, his father’s exports manager was a man with barely any neck and a mustache thick enough to suffocate the average human, mean and angry most of the time. He remembers dealing with him once and having his ears ringing for the rest of the day. He hoped that was not the choice of mistress for his father, as if any other choice would be better, “I expected you to be stronger, bolder,” she continued, “the famous Ghost of Manchester, almost as much of a bastard as his daddy.” She sniffed, looking at him with disappointment, “nothing more than a broken man”
“Why’d you agree to marry me, then?” he couldn’t help but feel defensive, pushing himself off of the bed. He might’ve been more intimidating if he wasn’t stripped to his underwear. Thankfully his robe was only a step away, and he shrugged it on quickly, “if you knew, why”
“Because I don’t care,” Valeria grinned, a little manic, eyes wide in a way that made Simon want to shrink, “I don’t love you, you don’t love me, but you’ve got a good family name; and I need someone to get mi mamá y papá off my back”
Simon stared, a little bewildered, then relaxed. He wanted to laugh, not out of any joy, but his emotions had been played with so many times today he can’t help but feel a little insane.
“You should go after him,” Valeria said, as if he hadn’t nearly gone to his knees at his own wedding for him. Like he hadn’t taken off his mask, risking people seeing the monster he was underneath, for him. Like he hadn’t begged with everything, promised to follow with everything he has.
“I tried”
“No, not really,” Valeria shrugged, her dress falling off her shoulder, corset unwinded and discarded after. Simon looked away, leaving her to her privacy, “you need to choose him, for once, choose something in your life, Simon”
“I did,” Simon replied, “I laid my soul bare for him, and he turned away!”
“After what? I heard his family talk, you turned away from him, you didn’t choose him. Don’t blame him for your own mistakes!” Valeria sighed, lowering her tone as she continued, “Actions have consequences, Querido, you broke his heart”
“I couldn’t just run away with him…I have people to take care of…my mum, my brother…” Simon explained, his chest contracting, the same suffocating feeling encompassing him again. The same pit he’d fallen into that left him in crying hysterics, why couldn’t Valeria just lie like him? Pretend like he’d been willing to pretend until something gave. Maybe after their first child, when the pressure is no longer over his shoulder to bring an heir to the Riley family.
He didn’t know if the churn in his stomach was from the idea of producing a child or the bourbon mixing badly with the stress.
Valeria places a warm hand on his shoulder, and to any random onlooker, their position might’ve been seen as romantic; but it was anything but.
“Who takes care of you?” She asks, pushing something into his chest. Simon looks down, frowning when he finds the familiar cloth in his hand…Johnny’s handkerchief, she left him standing there, staring at his own fingers clutched around Johnny’s initials. “Your whole life, your father dictated what you do. Which school, what job, which wife…you’ve left your only choice behind, Simon, and followed your father; like a loyal dog.”
The same words Johnny had told him, it stings even more because, even then, he knew Johnny was right. He was nothing but a coward, a loyal dog.
“What other choice do I have? Tell him I love a man? He’d kill us both”
“No, not him. Who gives a shit about what your father says, Simon?” Valeria scoffed, “go to your boy, tell him you love him, tell him I know and figure it out. Chose, for once, to be with who you love”
“How am I supposed to do that? He’s engaged, Valeria”
“You’re the one who loved him, Simon, not me,” Valeria shrugged, “figure it out, querido, before it’s too late.”