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Armie looked up from his book and stared out the wall of windows. The high-desert landscape surrounding them was otherworldly–hills of sand, boulders, scrubby brush and cacti, the occasional Joshua Tree jutting out of the ground here and there. Its alien beauty made him feel small in the scope of the wider world. There was just something so peaceful about the wide expanse and dry air, the clear, dark skies, the way the sun set and the moon rose, painting the sky with brilliant streaks of color and light.
Armie thought about Joshua Tree and 29 Palms, high in the Mojave Desert, then about Casa Codita, the house where he and Timmy had stayed time and time again. It had been part of his friend’s rental portfolio, and they’d loved it to the point of hoping to buy it someday, longing for a place to escape to that was just theirs. But it wasn’t meant to be–the property had gone up for sale at the same time they were buying a house in LA, and with the divorce hanging over Armie’s head they just couldn’t swing it. The loss had left them both a little heartbroken, truth be told–and they hadn’t really spent much time in the area since. Not together, at least.
But when Timmy mentioned that all he wanted for his 28th birthday was to head to the high-country desert, to relax under the daytime sun and twinkling stars and hide from the entire world, just the two of them, Armie had promised he’d find a place. Especially since he’d had to stay in Cayman for Christmas and Timmy had to make an appearance at a certain Christmas party…
He’d started with his friend’s other rentals, but nothing had measured up. Armie’d moved on to other properties and had almost given up when he found it. It would break his friend’s heart if he ever found out they’d rented from someone else, but it was perfect.
Desert Moon Oasis
A 15-acre compound a full mile down a private dirt road with a clean, comfortable, simple but luxurious interior, a gourmet kitchen, an almost equally impressive outdoor kitchen, glass-fenced pool with amazing views, secluded hot tub–anything they’d need to hunker down and hide from the world. He looked around the living room of Desert Moon Oasis, somehow bright and open, yet still cozy, with cushy sectional couches that were so long that he could stretch his full length and not overhang the edges. A wall of windows brought the outside in but kept the winter cold out. Not quite as luxe or remote as Casa Codita, but special in its own way. They’d been there five days already, and Armie was already thinking about the glowing 5-star review “Doug Perlman” would be leaving on the property once they left.
Armie shifted on the couch and set his book to the side, then latched his hands behind his head and took a deep breath, letting his thoughts wander. He felt calm and content in a way that he’d rarely felt over the past year. There was just something about the desert–he felt more himself, more free than he felt in Los Angeles, or Cayman, or really anywhere else he’d been over the past year, save for the time he’d spent over the summer with Luca at his villa. It had only been half a year, but felt like a lifetime ago. That’s how 2023 had been–for both of them.
2023 was supposed to be so different than it ended up being, as had 2022, and 2021 and 2020 before that. It was supposed to be the year everything fell into place–the announcement of no charges, the divorce, the end of Timmy’s obligations related to Dune 2, finally filming A Complete Unknown. It was supposed to be the year they could be “friends” again, that they could be seen getting coffee together–the year that the kids would move home, that new projects would be announced…the year that Armie was supposed to rise from the ashes.
It hadn’t worked out that way.
Of course it hadn’t.
It never did, not for them. Not since that fateful day that Armie had barged into Timmy’s piano lesson.
Their path hadn’t been easy. At all.
But here they were–still together, having walked through years of fire, both individually and as a couple. Still here, on the cusp of a new year once again–their life together delayed but not destroyed. Still here–stealing days here and there, living for the rare, private moments where they could delude themselves into believing they were the only people on earth. Coming together with a hurricane force of passion, only to be pulled apart again.
Armie wished the world were different, wished they could just be them, be together–do all the things that normal, anonymous people could do–without the judgment of a homophobic Hollywood or a scandal-believing public. He was ready to set the world on fire and change it, but neither of them were willing to let Timmy’s career pay the price. It was a Catch-22, and every day that passed was one day closer to the tipping point of deciding whether it was worth it.
Armie had just closed his eyes to relax into his feelings when he heard the creak of the bedroom door, followed by the soft shuffle of socked feet making their way down the hall. When the rhythmic steps stopped he pulled open his eyes and gazed up at the sleep-rumpled man standing in front of him. Armie’s heart leapt in his chest as it so often did when seeing Timmy after they’d been apart–even if only for a few minutes. Even the best of his memories were unable to hold a candle to the force of light, of fury, of jealousy, of passion, of sweet kindness, of brilliance that was his Timmy in the flesh.
“Hey,” Timmy yawned.
“Good morning,” Armie grinned, teasingly. “Or maybe I should say good afternoon?”
Timmy huffed and rolled his eyes as he flopped down on the couch beside Armie. “Just because I don’t get up at the crack of dawn and go running like some crazy person…”
“Are you calling me crazy?” Armie chuckled. Timmy knew him so well–he had gotten up and gone running as the sun rose in the sky, the streaks of orange and yellow light a glorious backdrop to the heart-pumping activity.
“Not really,” Timmy kept his head down but looked up at Armie through his lashes. “I just woke up lonely, that’s all.”
A warm swirl of desire spun through Armie’s body at the implications of Timmy’s words.
“I’ll wake you up slowly tomorrow,” Armie promised, his voice rough and low.
“You’d better,” Timmy grumped. “I have no desire to start 2024 alone–and we leave tomorrow afternoon. I want another go at that shower, maybe under the other showerhead this time.”
“Hmmm.” Armie contemplated carrying Timmy back to the bedroom, or maybe to the shower… contemplated connecting the moles on Timmy’s neck with kisses, stripping Timmy of his clothes and pushing him to the edges of pleasure until he was screaming Armie’s name. But just as he began leaning in to devour Timmy’s neck, the man in his arms leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.
The kiss lingered for several seconds, lips softly playing against lips, kissing for kissing’s sake with no intention of it leading to anything else. A small, content smile curled up on the edges of Timmy’s lips as he looked up at Armie through a fringe of dark lashes, then he sighed happily, burrowing in against Armie’s chest and nestling his face against Armie’s neck. Timmy’s hand slipped up under the hem of Armie’s sweater, coming to rest on Armie’s stomach. Armie pressed a kiss against Timmy’s head and smiled. Timmy always did this–seeking out skin on skin contact, little touches here and there. It had been this way since the very first time they’d met.
Armie inhaled slowly, letting all things Timmy flood his senses–there’d be time for that other stuff later–for now he just wanted to enjoy the domestic bliss of a just-waking Timmy cuddled up in his lap. Armie reached up and trailed his fingers through the wild curls poking this way and that.
“Now that you’re awake, what are you thinking for New Year's Eve?” Armie asked, his voice gentle and caring.
“I was thinking you and me out under the stars, like we did for my birthday.”
“It isn’t a full moon tonight like it was then.”
“All the better to see the stars,” Timmy countered.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be social? We could head over to Kitchen–I’m sure we could name-drop Ashton and they’d find us some space.”
Timmy pushed back to sitting to stare at Armie as he shook his head.
“Really?” Armie asked again. “I mean, we’ve been here five days, and I’m starting to feel a little guilty about keeping you to myself.”
Timmy smirked and shook his head again, mischief in his eyes.
Armie quirked a brow
“We’re here hiding out from the world–just you, just me. You’re indulging me for my birthday, remember?”
Armie nodded, his eyes sweeping over Timmy again–all long limbs and wild curls, with deep knowing eyes, a smattering of adorable freckles decorating his nose and cheeks above plush pink lips, his whole body nearly swallowed up by one of Armie’s thick, cabled sweaters, the rest covered by fleece loungers and thick, fuzzy socks. The juxtaposition of sultry and snuggly hit Armie just right, and somehow it felt like he was the one being indulged, not the one doing the indulging.
“Just you, just me,” Timmy reiterated, first poking Armie in the chest, then ducking his head and curling a cuff-covered fist up under his chin.
After a moment Timmy lifted his chin and locked eyes with Armie.
“But really, Armie–think about it. I know Ashton would work us in, but that’s totally a dick move on what’s surely one of the busiest nights of the year for them. Besides, if we suddenly show up on New Year’s Eve it will raise all sorts of questions, won’t it? Not least of which is where we’re staying. And there’ll be hell to pay if I’m seen out with you and not with my ‘girlfriend’.” Timmy rolled his eyes and made finger quotes at the last word.
Armie tipped his head. Timmy had a point. Several points actually. The last thing either of them needed was a tabloid story bucking the narrative of a smitten Timmy partying the night away. It was painful for both of them–the hiding, the shamming–but considering the consequences of being public it really was the only way. For now at least.
Someday though.
“Are you hungry?” Armie asked, suddenly feeling the need to get up and get moving, before the conversation got too heavy.
Timmy’s stomach growled in response.
“French toast and an omelet?” Timmy asked, giving Armie his best version of begging, puppy dog eyes. “I don’t want any of those weird protein waffles.”
“What’s wrong with the protein waffles?”
“Uh…everything?”
“Fine,” Armie laughed. “French toast and an omelet, it is.”
—------------------------------------
“Are you even going to make it to midnight?” Timmy teased at Armie’s yawn. They’d just gotten up from the table after a leisurely dinner and were taking plates to the sink.
“It feels like midnight came and went a while ago,” Armie admitted, stretching and yawning again.
“Because the sun went down at like, 4:30,” Timmy said. “It’s not even 11:00.”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“Oh, come on,” Timmy’s breathy laugh filled the air. “I just turned 28, and that’s way too young to be in bed before midnight on New Year’s Eve, even if we are the only ones here.”
After a moment with no response, Timmy piped back up. “Wait, are you serious? Are you really already tired? I know there was a lot of…exertion…before dinner–on both of our parts–but I didn’t think I’d worn you out quite that much.”
“Exertion?” Armie laughed. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”
Timmy shrugged. They’d spent the day just how they’d wanted–together, leaning into the simple joys of good food, good books, good movies, and a whole lot of really good sex. It had been invigorating and tiring at the same time. The perfect day. One that he had no intention of letting end before pressing a kiss against Armie’s lips at midnight.
“I know just what you need,” Timmy said.
“Oh?” Armie raised his brows and lowered them a few times.
“Not like that,” Timmy said, rolling his eyes and laughing, knowing immediately what Armie was thinking. More than once, he’d used that phrase before debauching Armie in one way or another, or encouraging Armie to debauch him. “Well, maybe like that…but not ‘til after midnight. We need to christen the new year after all,” Timmy grinned and licked the corner of his lip. “But for now let’s go take a walk in the moonlight. The cold air will wake you up long enough to make it to midnight.”
That did sound like a good way to perk up enough to make it over the finish line of 2023. But Armie knew there was more to consider–winter in the Mojave desert tended to hover in the thirties at night.
“Won’t you freeze?”
“I’ll bundle up,” Timmy assured him. “And when we’re done we can sit out by the fire pit and cuddle under a blanket under the stars. We can watch the sky facing town–we might be able to see midnight fireworks from 29 Palms or Joshua Tree, or maybe even Palm Springs, since it’s so clear.”
“Alright then–you go bundle up and I’ll finish the dishes.”
“Midnight kisses and no dishes? You’re spoiling me, Hammer.”
“Anything for you,” Armie winked.
Timmy laughed as he hustled down the hallway, leaving Armie in the kitchen. It wasn’t long before he was back, barely visible underneath the layers.
“Babe!” Armie laughed, eyeing the bundle before him. “Did you put on everything you brought?” From the bottom up, it looked like Timmy had put on double layers of fuzzy socks, jeans on under his joggers, at least two sweaters under a zipped puffer coat, a scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth, a knit cap pulled down over his head, and thick gloves on his hands. If not for the deep kaleidoscope-green eyes and tiny bits of dark curls refusing to be contained by the cap, not a soul would recognize the person at the center of the bundle.
“Grab your coat and let’s go,” Timmy said, his words almost unintelligible through the scarf. “And don’t forget the blanket.”
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“Are you sure you’re alright?” Armie asked, once they were outside. Timmy had been right and the cold was invigorating. There’d be no problem making it to midnight as long as Timmy didn’t freeze in the next hour.
“‘m fine,” Timmy insisted. “What d’ya think about walking over to the top of that hill? It should give us a perfect view.”
"Is it too exposed?” Armie asked, hating that it was always a question worth asking.
“It’s dark, I’m wrapped up like a mummy, and we’re nowhere near other people,”
Timmy reasoned. Armie tipped his head, conceding the point.
They’d only taken a few steps when Timmy twined their fingers together, leaving Armie laughing.
“What?” came Timmy’s indignant squawk.
Armie stopped, then pulled on Timmy’s hand, turning him around so they were face to face.
“It’s like holding onto a pillow,” Armie teased, lifting their joined hands up to eye level. “Are your fingers even in here?” Walking hand in hand was a rare luxury for them, and part of Armie just wasn’t willing to let so much fluff come between them.
Timmy eyes twinkled as he pulled his hand back and yanked off his glove, then looked Armie in the eye. “Alright–but it’s your job to keep my hand warm.”
“Challenge accepted.” Armie grinned, slotting their fingers back together, then pulling the sleeve of Timmy’s coat down over both of their hands.
Timmy looked down at their covered hands and nodded once as they set off, carefully tightening his grip as if walking hand and hand could be their normal–if only he held on just the right way.
The air was cool and still as they wandered in the general direction of the hill, the sky inky dark and dotted with stars, the moon shining so brightly it cast shadows over the footprints they’d left in the sand. By some unspoken shared desire, they enjoyed the walk in silence, each reflecting and soaking in the moment, preserving the memory for the way-too-many days they’d be spending apart once Armie headed back to Cayman to be with the kids and Timmy started the whirlwind of Dune promotion and filming the Dylan biopic.
Armie stopped once they reached the top of the hill and looked around.
“Wow,” he breathed, dropping Timmy’s hand and pulling him under his arm.
“It’s beautiful,” Timmy whispered, taking in the wide expanse of the Mojave desert surrounding them–broad hills and shadows dotted with dark splotches of scrubby brush and clustered boulder formations, the only signs of civilization the distant lights of 29 Palms.
They stood shoulder to shoulder under the stars, staring at the sky, safe and protected from the outside world and the chaos of their day-to-day lives. Time passed without measure until their reverie was disrupted by a star shooting across the sky.
“Armie!” Timmy gasped, turning toward the man beside him, his eyes wide. “Did you see…”
Armie nodded, locking their eyes together and bringing his fingers to Timmy’s lips.
“Sshhh,” Armie whispered, “Make a wish.”
Timmy closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled them back open. A broad grin lit up his face, making the moment even more magical.
“Did you make a wish?” Armie asked.
“Of course,” Timmy replied, his voice breathy as he licked over his lip and looked up through his lashes, tipping his head up expectantly. “Did you?” he whispered.
“Oh, yes,” Armie murmured, leaning in and claiming Timmy’s lips in a gentle kiss, the vast expanse of stars and sky their only witness.
Timmy’s ungloved hand slid up Armie’s neck, and he held them together as he deepened their kiss. Armie hummed happily and wrapped his arms around his love, pulling him so close they could feel their hearts beating as one, the layers of clothes between them be damned.
The moonlight shone down on them, casting their shadow as a single form, stretching out beyond the hill and over the desert sand as one, the moon itself blessing their union. Time passed without notice as they clung to each other, living solely in the stolen moment of soul-binding kisses under the majestic sky. Until…
“Midnight,” Armie gasped, his lips pulling away from Timmy’s at the percussive boom of distant fireworks. They pulled apart only far enough to find each other’s eyes, their pupils open and wide in the moonlight.
“Happy New Year,” Timmy said, lifting his hand and caressing the side of Armie’s face, his thumb brushing over Armie’s cheek.
“Happy New Year, my love,” Armie replied, bringing their lips together again.
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“What did you wish for?” Timmy asked with a yawn, embers popping and dancing in the air as they cuddled under the blanket in the warm glow of the fire pit. They’d stayed atop the hill, kissing through the end of the fireworks, but a breeze had started to blow, leaving them both chilly. By the time they made it back to the house the wind had died down though, and neither was quite willing to let the excitement of their high-desert New Year’s adventure end. So when Armie’d suggested the fire, Timmy had jumped at the chance for a little more time under the stars.
“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” Armie explained. He felt Timmy nod against his chest and tighten his arm just a little, but any verbal reply remained unspoken. A minute passed, then two, the silence seeming to hang heavy in the air.
“Hey,” Armie said, leaning in and kissing the top of Timmy’s head, “What are you thinking?”
“Could we just stay here forever?” Timmy whispered, melting against Armie. “We could make it our resolution for New Year’s.”
Soft and quiet, the question toed the line between wistful and wishful. Bleeding melancholy desire for something other than reality, a hope for escape, for another life–just the two of them. Timmy stilled, his head tucked down against Armie’s chest, eyes hidden from view as they held each other under the blanket to ward off the cold, clear air.
Armie nosed into Timmy’s silky, wild curls and drew a slow, deep breath. He could almost hear his own heart beating in the quiet that surrounded them. He ran his hand up and down Timmy’s back, then wrapped his arm around Timmy’s shoulders and pulled him even closer. Timmy’s question tugged at his heart.
He exhaled.
“Is that really what you want?”
Seconds ticked by before Timmy answered.
“It’s what part of me wants.”
Armie recognized the truth in Timmy’s words.
“It’s gorgeous here,” Timmy added, “so peaceful and private.”
“It is,” Armie agreed. And it was–an easy drive from the city, but a world away. A world where they were simply Timmy and Armie, soulmates that had been lucky enough to find each other, deeply and passionately in love. But both of them knew it couldn’t be their reality. It was a beautiful dream, but just that–a dream. As attractive as it seemed, neither of them would be completely happy spending a lifetime here, tucked away and hiding from the world. It didn’t even need to be said.
Timmy sighed, then lifted his head. “Maybe we could ask if they’re interested in selling–furnished? It could be our getaway, when the rest of the world is just too much.”
“We can at least ask,” Armie yawned. “Make it our New Year’s tradition.”
“I’d love that,” Timmy answered softly, then shifted in Armie’s lap and stood up. “Come on,” he said, holding his hand out, “Let’s go to bed.”
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And though neither man ever revealed the wish he’d made on the shooting star that night, every New Year’s Eve, from that point on, year after year, they each fell asleep with a grateful heart, tucked under the blankets of Shooting Star Oasis, their lovingly-renamed high-desert getaway, knowing by the simple warmth of the body beside them that the universe had granted their wish once again.
One more year.
Together.