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Seeing them together awoke the worst in him. Determination gave way to jealousy, love to resentment.
It started innocently enough. When they first met Damon, he seemed flirty alright, with virtually all of them, so Bojan never gave it much thought. He was very aware at that point of his feelings for Kris, but he tried to keep them down, keep them tame.
He couldn’t risk it, any of it. Couldn’t risk his family, his career, their career… it was for the best, he kept telling himself.
You’re a coward, the voice in his head corrected him every time his head hit the pillow.
Then the photoshoots happened, and Kris seemed… different, somehow. They all did, to a certain extent, each liberated each in their own way, but the change that happened on Kris was palpable. He didn’t always seem comfortable in the body he was in, but he was getting there, step by step.
Then Damon came and Kris started sprinting towards who he was meant to be this entire time.
Bojan was happy for him, even told him as much. He didn’t think much of the hickey Kris tried to hide from them in the coming days, because it couldn’t possibly have been…
No. Better not to think about it.
When they said goodbye to Damon, Bojan was ashamed to have breathed a sigh of relief. He’d grown to be a dear, close friend to them all, nothing but kind and supportive, so what exactly was Bojan’s issue with him?
If it had anything to do with him feeling more free to touch Kris now, call him his princess and kneel in front of him, then he’d purposefully decided not to make a connection between the two.
“He’s coming! Damon’s coming to join us in Germany!”
It wasn’t the words themselves that caused Bojan’s chest to tighten and his breath to shorten; it was the look in Kris’ eyes as he spoke them.
They were shining, so brightly, in ways they never were when he talked about Bojan.
Not since…
But that was in the past now and nothing to think about anymore.
His voice was ecstatic, and he couldn’t even stick around the tourbus’ common area long enough to sit and calm down; he was busy typing away, biting his lip, and…
In theory, Bojan should be happy, right? Like they all were when Jere joined them?
But instead, he found himself hoping something would happen to stop Damon from coming. Nothing too serious, he wasn’t a monster; maybe a sudden job invite, a change in the schedule, something, anything, because…
Because of what exactly, he couldn’t say.
He wouldn’t say it, even to himself. Because that would mean having to face his own shortcomings, his own missed chances, and that just wasn’t going to happen.
He started to feel Kris pulling away. He wanted to touch him, smile at him, now more than ever, but he was always met with a cold gaze, his back turned to Bojan.
Can he see into my thoughts somehow? Bojan’s anxious mind thought.
Does he see my deepest, darkest desires? He kept wondering, feeling his heart pounding harder in his chest, echoing in his ears, humming the words he knew so well by now.
You’re going to faint and embarrass yourself.
You better scream for help because you’re dying.
He pushed them down, ignored them, waved to the audience and ran backstage.
I’ll just sleep it off, like I always do.
Damon’s arrival was everything he had feared. He put on a brave face, a loving face, tried to remind himself he was kind, and a friend, and everything Bojan loved and respected in people.
But when it was lunchtime and he and Kris were nowhere to be seen, the gaping hole in his chest filled with ice, and fire, and thorns, and his mind echoed the things he didn’t want to hear, or see in his overtly vivid imagination.
Kris showed up with another hickey he cleverly tried to hide behind a black turtleneck, and this time around, Bojan couldn’t pretend it was something it wasn’t. So his heart in love and loss decided he won’t be resentful and hiding away anymore; he’ll do the exact opposite.
He kept asking Damon to borrow pieces of his wardrobe; kept hugging and touching him, his eyes always making sure Kris was there, that he saw he wasn’t the only one, he wasn’t special, he…-
It didn’t work. None of it did. Damon was kind and flirty enough, but he never kissed anyone but Kris. He never shared a bunk with anyone but him, and the soft, muffled noises Bojan’s panicked, insomniac mind heard occasionally when they thought everyone else was down for the night made him want to scream.
He is special, it’s why you’re in love with him. And he deserves someone who will tell him as much.
He tried to get over it, over himself, over his feelings.
What good were they anyway, right?
At first, he couldn’t help but try to get a reaction, any reaction out of him. He’d flirt with everyone else but Kris, offering himself on a silver plate, everything and anything so Kris would somehow…
See what? Do what? Beg you to take him?
He didn’t get a single look his way.
So in his humility, in the desperate need to have Kris look at him, touch him like before, he went back to being sweet and attentive to him, but Kris’ eyes were always elsewhere. Looking at Damon working in the common space, looking at him on the balcony, his eyes on him when they were taking a stroll and falling behind.
They touched, but it was as if for Kris, it could have been anyone.
It didn’t feel the same, not like before, not like when there was so much electricity in the air. Not like when they lived together, alone, and Kris said…-
—
-“I think I’m in love with you. And I think you may be in love with me, too.”
Fuck. This can’t be real, can it?
“Kris, I… Where is this coming from? I don’t want you saying things you’ll regret.”
He can’t know, it can’t happen, it’s too dangerous, it’ll ruin us.
“Bojan, can you please for once in your life admit to yourself who you are? I’m not the smartest person ever, but the way you look at me and touch me and… Bojan, you talk in your sleep. A lot. I know… What you dream of. Who you dream of.”
“Look, Kris, I… I may have had a crush on you, okay, sure. But… in love? Maybe this whole living together thing was a mistake, I feel like you’re imagining things, making them into more than they really are.”
Please let it go. Please.
“Okay. If that’s how you want this to be, then okay.”
I don’t. I do. I have no idea what I want.
—
“So you and Damon…”
“Hmm?”
“You… you’re dating now? Or is it more… casual?”
Please say it’s nothing. Please?
“It’s not… casual. I don’t think so. We’ve had the talk and decided to be exclusive, see how this whole distance thing works out. And Bojan… please stop. Stop trying to meddle, to take him away from me. Not that it was working, but… it’s making me lose any respect I had for you.”
“What… are you talking about?”
So he did notice. He just didn’t care.
“You were being so obvious, to the point Damon asked if we should talk to you about it. He thought maybe you were in love with him.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“That I think you were simply lost without my constant affection.”
I was. I am.
“That it’ll pass, that you simply can’t stand other people being in the centre of attention.”
“That’s not true. It’s not… why I did it. I… fuck, Kris, I love you. I’m in love with you and watching the two of you together…”
Is killing me.
“Stop. Bojan, stop, just… don’t. You’ve had your shot. I gave you everything, admitted everything to you, all you had to do was take it. And you chose not to.”
“Kris, I… I was afraid. Of it going wrong. Of losing you, of the band going wrong…”
“And you decided not to talk about it. Decided to make me feel like I couldn’t possibly be loved. Like it was laughable that I would so much as think that.”
Fuck. I fucked up I fucked up I know what I want now I want you and only you please please
“I was wrong. I knew I loved you, and I…”
“You let your fear win. Your anxiety, like every time. I couldn’t have done more for you, for us. I’ve loved you for years, waited so long for you to see yourself. Waited for you to see me. And then you did, and it still wasn’t enough.
So just… Don’t meddle. I can’t go back to wishing and hoping and suffering, not when I… Not when I have someone who cares for me enough to love me, to make me feel loved, feel enough.
Please. Please, can you do that for me?”
I love you, too. So much. So much.
“I’m sorry. That I didn’t do enough when I could have… Should have. I’m glad you’re happy with him.”
“Thank you. I hope you are, too, someday.”
With someone else. You mean with someone else, never you, never again.
“I do, too.”