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A blast of welcome heat hit him as Astarion ducked into the pub, swapping the bitter cold of the street outside for the warmth and bustle of the small bar. He cast a quick eye over the patrons – mostly older folks and families – before unwinding his scarf from around his neck and stepping up to the bar. It was busy, and he had to wait a few minutes while the staff took other people’s orders. Astarion drummed his fingers on the counter; he didn’t like waiting. It just gave him more time to reflect on how drastically his life had fucked up in the last week.
He shouldn’t be here. He should be at home, with his partner, in the house they’d finally managed to buy after months of tedious paperwork and nagging at solicitors. The irony of it all coming through in the very week Astarion discovered Gale was cheating is just another cruel twist in the story that is Astarion’s pathetic life.
He’d been so excited, coming home from work that evening to their house for the very first time. No more grotty ‘studio flat’ the size of a broom cupboard, no more arguing with Gale’s housemates about who’d left dirty dishes on the side again. Instead, they had somewhere that was just for them; as he turned the key in the front door, Astarion felt nothing but joy and anticipation. Closing the door behind him felt like safety, the simple act of calling out “I’m home!” making his stomach burble with giddy happiness.
Gale had managed to achieve quite a bit while Astarion was out. The bookshelves in the living room were stacked (because of course Gale’s first priority was unpacking the books), the kitchen furniture was assembled and boxes had been rearranged to give them room to move. Gale had put a nice bottle of plum fizz in the fridge and they drank it with their takeaway noodles as they revelled in the quiet pleasure of being in their own space.
It was when they went up to bed it had all gone to shit. Astarion spotted something poking out from under the newly made bed, and picked it up to discover it was a small pair of red lacy briefs. The way the fabric was tangled suggested they’d been pulled off in a hurry. Cold dread sank into Astarion’s stomach like lead. Gale wouldn’t, would he?
“What’s this?” Astarion’s hands and voice shook as he held up the garment in front of Gale. Please no, please don’t let it be what I think it is.
Gale’s eyes widened, guilt written all over his face. “Ah. That.” He scratched the back of his neck, one of the tells that Astarion knew like the back of his own hand. That was all the confirmation Astarion needed.
“You absolute prick,” he hissed, eyes narrowing as the fury boiled up in him. “You couldn’t even wait one night before bringing some floozy back to our house!”
A mixture of shock and panic came over Gale’s face. “Astarion, no! It’s not what you think it is, I swear!”
“Save your excuses,” Astarion sneered. “I thought you were the man of my dreams, but you’re just the same as him. Goodbye, Gale.” And he’d turned and fled, before the tears pricking at his eyes had a chance to spill and show Gale just how pathetic he really was.
All of which had led to this moment – Astarion, alone amongst other people celebrating the holiday season with friends and family. The background hum of chatter helped to calm his thoughts, though the laughter grated against the misery inside him. Now that he’d had a chance to calm down, he was more sad and disappointed than actually angry. The part inside of him that Cazador had broken insisted that it must be his fault, that Astarion must have been lacking in some way to make Gale stray like this. He’d been doing so well at not listening to that little voice in the past couple of years, but now he couldn’t help but wonder if it spoke the truth.
Through a lull in the conversation next to him, Astarion caught a snatch of Christmas music; It’ll be lonely this Christmas, without you to hold, the singer crooned. He scoffed. Likely the singer had brought it on himself; he wondered if he had been sleeping around, as well. The barmaid finally stopped in front of Astarion and he opened his mouth to order, but before he could get a word out she placed a large glass of red wine in front of him.
“From the gentleman in the corner.” She nodded her head to indicate a small round table, tucked away by the fire so Astarion hadn’t noticed it before. Behind it sat Gale, looking distinctly worse for wear. His greasy hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, lank strands escaping to fall into his face. The hollows under his eyes indicated he hadn’t slept for a week, although contradictorily his clothes looked like he’d been sleeping on the sofa in them. Good, was Astarion’s first vindictive thought. He should be suffering after what he’s put me through.
He couldn’t deny though, however much he wanted to, that he still loved Gale. As he looked at him across the bar, a thought occurred to him; maybe, if it was something Astarion had done to make Gale cheat, he could fix it. He could be better, he could do more. With a deep breath, he picked up the glass and crossed the bar to join Gale at the table. Gale’s shoulders sagged slightly, like he’d been expecting Astarion to flee. The thought had definitely crossed Astarion’s mind; Gale knew him well.
“How did you find me?” It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask, but it fell from his lips before he could think.
“Sheer luck.” Gale made an attempt at his usual smile, but his face was so twisted with misery it fell flat. Now that Astarion was up close, Gale looked absolutely dreadful; eyes swollen like he’d been crying and his lips bitten to shreds. “You weren’t picking up the phone, so I’ve been trying everywhere in town since you left. I figured if I kept it up, I’d find you eventually.”
Astarion took a tentative sip of his wine – a deep merlot, his favourite. His eyes filled unexpectedly with tears; Gale really did know him better than anyone. He thought he’d known Gale equally well, but apparently not. Gale reached a hand across the table, as if to take Astarion’s where it rested by his glass. Astarion pulled back and Gale flinched, but then leaned forward, a look of earnest pleading on his face.
“Astarion, please listen to me. I can explain everything, I promise.”
“I just need to know why.” Astarion swallowed against the lump in his throat, staring into his wine glass. “What about me wasn’t enough for you?”
“Astarion, I swear to you, I didn’t cheat.” Gale took a deep breath. “They’re mine.”
Astarion blinked, looking up at Gale in surprise, then scoffed. “Darling, at least be honest with me.”
“I promise you it’s true.” Gale sighed, then pushed something in a brown, A4-sized envelope across the table to Astarion. “It was going to be part of your Christmas present.”
Curious despite himself, Astarion reached for the envelope, pulling what felt like a wad of cardboard from inside. When he turned it, he saw a picture of Gale in a typical academic thinking pose, chin resting on his hand and a smirk on his face as he looked into the camera. The words “Gale of Waterdeep, 2024 Calendar” were emblazoned across the top in gold writing. Astarion snorted and flipped open the calendar. Each month featured a different picture of Gale in a variety of ridiculous poses, ranging from him dressed as cupid in a mini toga with wings and a bow and arrow in February, to flipping burgers behind a barbeque wearing nothing but a tiny apron in July, to holding an amusingly phallic gourd in front of his groin in October. The final picture was of Gale posing seductively on their bed, dressed in a pair of skimpy red briefs with a red ribbon in his hair. Astarion stared at it for a long time.
“I wanted to get the last picture done in our new house, but the print deadline was coming up so I did it quickly while you were at work then sent it off to make sure it delivered in time,” Gale gabbled. “I didn’t realise I hadn’t cleared up properly until you came up to bed.”
Astarion finally dragged his eyes off the calendar to look at Gale. His lover’s eyes were wet, sincerity in every muscle of his body. Astarion released a shuddering breath and tentatively moved his hand back in range on the table. Gale took it in both of his.
“I am so, so sorry baby - I messed up so badly.” Gale hiccupped a sob. “I never meant to hurt you, it was supposed to be a bit of a gag, and instead I made you…” he trailed off, shaking his head as the tears overflowed.
“It’s okay.” Something inside Astarion was loosening, the immense pressure that had been ever-present for the past week lifting and leaving nothing but lightness behind. “I believe you. And I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. I should have known you would never…”
Gale interrupted, shaking his head so fiercely strands of hair went flying. “Don’t you dare think any of this is on you. You are wonderful and perfect and I love you.”
“I love you too.” Warmth bubbled in Astarion’s chest and he squeezed Gale’s hand. “And this is actually hilarious.” He indicated the calendar, the first proper smile he’d given in a week spreading across his face. He shook his head fondly, twisting the calendar so he could look at the smug headshot on the cover again. “You’re such an arrogant twat.”
Gale shifted closer to Astarion, nuzzling his head into Astarion’s neck. “Yes. But what all this was meant to say in the first place, is that I’m your arrogant twat.”
Astarion chuckled, pressing a kiss to the greasy mop on his lover’s head. “Come on then, my darling idiot. Let’s go home.” They both pulled their keys from their pockets, matching sets on matching keychains featuring both their smiling faces.
“Home,” Gale agreed.
Their home.