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Evening was the only time that Rezzy found Orlango weather tolerable. The air was heavy and wet, which temperatures well into the thirties did nothing to complement. Once it cooled down at nighttime, Rezzy could usually bear the humidity.
Tonight though, it only felt like an insult. Management had scheduled an 9PM team meeting and the thought of confronting his abysmal performance in relay that afternoon already made him want to gag.
The west end of the athlete’s village abutted a small artificial lake that afforded a partial view of the city skyline. It wasn’t particularly pretty – the water had a slight brown tint that Rezzy couldn’t tell was pollution or a failed attempt to make the water orange. Right now, as the transition to nighttime began, it looked nicer, as it was starting to reflect a light peach.
Work trips were often the only time Rezzy would regularly see the sunset. The view from his apartment back home was blocked by taller buildings. He was thankful his team had been assigned west-facing rooms for their stay. It was here on the hotel’s outdoor walkway that Rezzy loitered, watching the blue leave the sky.
It wasn’t peaceful, but if he listened to the bugs chirping for long enough, he could almost stop his mind from going to bad places. But his almost-peace was sorely interrupted. Rezzy heard the clink of ice in a glass, and swung around to see a smug-looking man in a bright green button-down, holding some kind of cocktail.
Rezzy made his disgust apparent on his face. “What the hell are you doing on my floor?”
“Using my free will,” said Slimelime as he sauntered in Rezzy’s direction. He rested his elbow on the walkway railing, leaning forward with a smirk. Rezzy knew better than to take the bait. Or at least, he knew he should know better. He swiped at Slime’s drink, but Slime was quicker to pull the glass away.
“Hey I know you need one, but get your own,” said Slime, who chuckled at his own bad insult.
This was far from Rezzy’s first encounter with an inebriated Slime. This season of the League, with the main league and Showdown held concurrently, it was only inevitable that he would see the man’s less inhibited side. Any interaction with him was going to be unpleasant, but the impish persona he adopted after a few drinks was extra grating. Rezzy couldn’t fight someone who was so unbothered. And Slime didn’t deserve to be so unbothered.
“So remind me how many of those you go through every year?”
Slime rolled his eyes, his lips still curled in amusement. “It doesn’t mean much anymore. But today I can celebrate you.”
The Limers hadn’t made it through relay heats either, but still finished four places ahead of the Raspberry Racers. Of course he was here just to be an ass. Rezzy scanned the area to check for anyone who might stop him from kicking Slime in the groin.
Almost knowingly, Slime turned and slumped himself over the railing. “God, Rezzy,” he said. An incredulous grin crept onto his face. “Doesn’t it feel so good being baaaad -” unable to finish the word without laughing, Slime put his head in his arms to suppress a coughing fit. He straightened his back and reset himself.
“Welcome to the club, man… alla nostra!” Slime said, raising his glass for a toast. He met Rezzy’s eyes with a smile that could almost pass as earnest. Rezzy remembered a time when this self-deprecating attitude and soft smile would have charmed him.
***
Rezzy hadn’t even graduated university yet when he was scouted to join a Fruit Circuit team. Already veterans of the Circuit for a few years, the Limers became quick friends and role models to the fledgling Racers. That would be one of many poor decisions he made while young and impressionable – not just trusting the Limers, but trusting Slime.
He’d always wondered if Slime had the same regrets about him.
It was around 2010 when they had met. To admit he wasn’t drawn to the gray-eyed Italian with the curtain of black hair would have been a lie. Long dark hair was, and would remain, one of Rezzy’s biggest weaknesses. But it’s one thing just to admire a person’s appearance. Though technically their peer, Rezzy was still a neophyte among semi-professionals. The more competitive the Fruit Circuit became, the more awestruck he was at the more experienced athletes - and thus the more stuck Slime became in his thoughts. That’s always how it starts. Somebody sticks. And so Rezzy’s pathological desire to impress became twofold.
***
“That smile doesn’t work on me, asshole.”
“What smile?” Slime turned up the smize. “This smile?” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and batted his eyelids.
Maybe Slime had never been charming and Rezzy was just a dumb and desperate youth. He wanted to grab Slime by the belt and throw him over the barrier. In a mocking tone, he mirrored Slime’s gestures and replied, “The one you use to pick up women, babe.” Even Rezzy didn’t know this was going to come out of his mouth.
Slime didn’t have a comeback for this.
Unable to backtrack, Rezzy opened the floodgates. “‘Oh, I suuuck, I’m such a looooser,’” He forced a smile through gritted teeth. “‘Haha, but maybe if I got your number I’d feel better, huh laaadiiies?’” He wiggled his body like a mating bird.
Slime looked down at his glass, then back up at Rezzy, his expression fluttering between confusion and concern. All he managed to say was, “...the fuck?”
***
Making a move was always a gamble. Rezzy fancied himself a master of subtle signals: prolonged glances, arm grabs, slightly-too-touchy handshakes, peppering anecdotes of past boyfriends into conversations. It was enough of a success when a man didn’t immediately pull away. And Slime was receptive. Rezzy would catch him staring, only to dart his eyes away when their gazes met, his face going flush. Gazes turned into smiles, into deep conversation, into laughing too hard at each other’s jokes. More meals out, more alone time, more time spent talking about anything but sports. More intertwined hands… more touches on the small of the back… More late nights in hotel rooms…
***
“Just saying,” Rezzy replied, glowering. “You lost permission to look at me like that thirteen years ago.” As much as he despised Slime now, he had never stopped counting the years.
Slime clenched his jaw. This was clearly not a topic that he was expecting to get dredged up tonight. But it was a miracle how many years it took for either of the two to reopen that box. And until now, in front of a random hotel room in a muggy foreign city, Rezzy hadn’t realized he had been waiting to do so.
“O…kay? Um…” Slime wasn’t making eye contact. “Damn.” He started to turn vaguely towards the elevator. Rezzy was swift at yanking him back by the forearm. “Hey! Augh! I wasn’t-” Slime protested.
“You aren’t fucking leaving.”
The look of genuine shock on Slime’s face only made Rezzy tighten his grasp.
“What, um… what is there to say?” Slime whispered, as if afraid of someone overhearing. “You’re the one who ended it.”
The latter was true. But he was wrong that there was nothing left unsaid.
Every memory bubbled back to the surface. The group gatherings where they would never touch. The ones he wouldn’t even show up to. How long it took for him to finally accept being kissed on the mouth. The way he fawned at the attention of any woman, and the way he only acted similarly towards Rezzy in private.
“What isn’t there to say?” Rezzy answered at a normal volume.
Slime squirmed in an attempt to free himself. “I have no idea what you want from me,” he said. Rezzy wasn’t going to take him at his word.
“Do you treat your girlfriends like you treated me?” Rezzy asked, already knowing the answer.
“Huh?? What the hell– that’s none of your business! Do you judge everyone by how they acted in their twenties??” Slime was agitated, as intended. “Because you think people can’t fucking change, apparently?!”
“They can change to be straight, apparently!” Rezzy snapped back.
“Fucking hypocrite, don’t you also date women?”
“Uh huh, and you’ve been with how many men?” Though disingenuous, Rezzy was eager to hear an answer. However, neither of the two were on track to get productive answers from the other.
“You didn’t know me then. And you especially don’t now. You don’t have the right to assume anything .” Slime said callously, and surprisingly articulately for his level of sobriety. This caught Rezzy off guard, giving time for Slime to wrest his arm away. What part of him hadn’t Rezzy known? How little of himself had Slime given?
Slime continued. “I’m sorry it’s always been safe for you to be out.”
At the time of their relationship, it had been about seven years since Rezzy came out as bisexual to his family. And about seven years since he had spoken to much of that family.
This year, it would be twenty.
But there was something more in that snide remark that Rezzy had a problem with. Something that, until this point, he had yet to hear.
“You’re what?”
Slime looked confused. He took a moment, seemingly to process what this was referring to. “I’m sorry? …Boo hoo?”
Rezzy felt a flush of anger course through him, and pursed his lips to suppress a scowl.
Slime had clearly noticed him turn red. “What? Was that not- I said sorry! Surely I said sorry?”
“Fuck off with that, Slime.”
“No, really- did I never say sorry?? I don’t know! I don’t remember!” Slime’s voice caught in his throat, and distressingly, Rezzy believed him. It confirmed what he had always suspected. That their fallout hadn’t hurt Slime as much as it had hurt him.
Another memory that Rezzy had tried to repress was put into in sharp relief. How nearly every move, every kiss, every act of affection, however passionately it was reciprocated, was initiated by him. The short-lived romance was a lesson. Don’t waste your time on anyone who has to hide you. He was at least thankful he got to learn it while still in his twenties.
In the fading light, Slime looked almost pitiable. Strands of hair, which he still kept long, hung damp in his face from humidity. His hairline hinted at receding. The setting sun highlighted the creases in his face put on by age. But in the luminous orange of the clouds reflected in Slime’s eyes, Rezzy could see a bit of that young man he tried so hard to make love him.
Quietly, he mumbled, “I wish it hadn’t been you.”
“So do I.”
It wasn’t the fault of either man that the rivalry of their respective sports teams turned from competitive to notoriously hostile. Every team member could point to a different moment where it all went wrong – it was a question that the press loved to ask. But this was long after Rezzy and Slime had stopped seeing each other. The hatred compounded regardless. It was one of Rezzy’s biggest “what-ifs” – could the teams could have stopped their conflicts from escalating? But there was always another question lingering on its coattails.
Rezzy figured if he let it out now, he might be free of it forever. “If we had been on different teams, or-”
Slime cut him off with a sigh. “ Rezzy… even without the... the bigass, fucking- litany of shit, it’s not like it was going to turn into anything.” He paused expectantly for Rezzy’s response, but didn't receive one.
“...You thought it would turn into something?”
Rezzy noticed how Slime wouldn’t say “we.”
Bile rose from his stomach. Suddenly, he was 23 again. Made a fool. Needing to scream.
He’d had several longer, more serious relationships in the interim. And many more who got away. He wasn’t yearning to rekindle what he had with Slime. He hadn't been special or unique. Except that this man he chose to pursue when he was young would haunt him for the entirety of his career. There he was – sticking, as always. Of course this “what-if” wouldn’t leave Rezzy’s mind if he was never allowed to forget. A thousand burnt bridges between them, yet they’re still right next to each other.
“...No,” he rasped. He realized he was gripping too tightly on the walkway railing, and let go. It was rare for him to be at a loss for words. He focused on masking his vulnerability. By the way Slime was looking at him, it was probably not working.
“Right.” Slime eyed him up and down. He laid a hand on Rezzy’s shoulder and Rezzy tensed up. After a few seconds of uncomfortable contact, Slime cleared his throat.
“You know, um, there’s this technique my nonna taught me that I use to clear my head,” he said. “I don’t know if it would help you, but maybe.”
Rezzy was miffed at the assumption that he just needed to clear his head, but was willing to hear out whatever this was going to be. “Hm?”
“Yeah, it’s called getting the fuck over it.” He popped an ice cube into his mouth and crunched down with his mouth still open.
Ironically, this did snap Rezzy back to his senses, and he slapped Slime’s hand off of him. Trying to hash out their past was going to be up there with Rezzy’s other big regrets. He thought nothing could be more humiliating than failing his teammates in front of a whole arena. Somehow, he was wrong.
He grabbed Slime by the collar and shoved him away, forcing him to stumble backwards in the direction he came. “Thank you for the advice,” said Rezzy with a fake smile.
The flustered Slime gave him a nod. “My pleasure.” He turned away. He rattled his glass as he left, mumbling, “I’ve gotta get another one of these…”
Soon, the only other sounds were cicadas and cars. The stars were beginning to appear, and Rezzy could find almost-peace in being alone again. He looked over the lake, now glittering with the lights of the city. The air was still sticky, as always, but a little less suffocating.