Character Bleed Book 3: Steadfast

Chapter 1: Still Day 26-2

He said, “I don’t know. Yes. No.”

“You sound as if you are, and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I said I don’t f*****g know!”

Colby went quiet, eyes huge as oceans stabbed by a spear.

“f**k,” Jason said, looking at him: a gaze across a divide of cream-and-gold carpet and confession. “Don’t apologize to me again. Jesus. I don’t know. Give me a minute.”

Colby nodded, voiceless acquiescence too fast to be comfortable. The silence grew impossibly brittle, and cracked under their toes.

Amid the wreckage of the evening, Jason took a breath. Fought to stay afloat. Colby wasn’t talking. Clouds painted the sky beyond the window in flat leaden grey; the hotel-room lights they’d left on were battling valiantly but losing.

He said, “That’s what you and Jill were disagreeing about. Way back then. She didn’t want you to tell me?”

Saying so burned. Both Colby and Jillian had thought he didn’t deserve to be let in—

“No, not at all!” Colby put out a hand, let it drop. “The opposite. She wanted me to tell you. She’s always thought I should ask for some sort of acknowledgement—at least recognition in the industry, if not an on-screen credit. She told me to trust you.”

And that was abruptly worse. “But you didn’t want to try.”

“I…” Colby faltered. “I didn’t realize…I can hear how it sounds, but I didn’t think…I’d never told anyone, I never wanted to—to have someone lie and tell me my writing’s good when it isn’t, when they’re only saying so to not offend me…and I already know it’s not as if I do much, it’s not that important, so if someone said that, it’d only be what I already know, and—and so I never wanted to share it with anyone—” He’d gathered arms in, clutching his jacket more closely around himself; his hair fell down in a dark brown fluffy swoop, making his eyes extra-vivid. He was thin and lovely and fragile and still talking.

Jason had to close his own eyes for a heartbeat or two. Colby was too vulnerable right this second: physically and emotionally, unconsciously and unfairly so. Jason yearned to go over there and scoop up that long-legged ball of pain and sort out the need for warmth and comfort. Taking care of his other half.

He stopped his feet from moving.

The frustration screamed like the thunder, resonating low and near. He couldn’t sort it all out. Too much. Slipping through his hands.

“I wanted to share it with you,” Colby said. “I—I’m sorry. Oh God. Apologizing. You said not to—but I don’t know what to say. To do. Please tell me what to do.”

“I can’t,” Jason said. “I can’t. I don’t know.”

Colby’s breath caught, small and distressed.

“I get why you didn’t tell me. I swear I do. I’m not even angry about that.” True. That wasn’t the emotion. “It’s just. You—you said you love me, you trust me, hell, we’ve talked about books, we’ve talked about this movie—about your words—and you still think I’m someone who’d, what, lie to you? About what I think? Or laugh at you? Make fun of you? Tell people your secret if you asked me not to? You really think I’d—”

“I don’t—” Colby had gone pale. His eyes stood out even more, horrified color against fairness. “I never meant—I don’t think any of that about you—”

“I don’t think you meant to.” Jason raked a hand through his hair, felt his heart crack like splintering ship’s hulls, fought for equilibrium. “But you know I—you know how much this means, being here with you, for me—I f*****g love you, and it hurts, Colby, God—”

“I’m so sorry.” Colby’s voice buckled. Whirlpools dragging that melodic accent down. “I’m sorry, Jason, I—I love you, and—”

“But you can think that about me!” He wanted to kick something. To punch something. To fight the pain away. He flung arms wildly around in desperation. “I know you’ve been through—Christ, the f*****g ugliest—but that’s not me, I thought you knew, you trusted me, you believed I wasn’t like that—but you don’t, or you can’t, or—”

He stopped.

His voice had gotten louder toward the end. And Colby had gone utterly still. Motionless as the first second after an impalement. Eyes wide, not quite focused on Jason. Not quite present.

“Colby?”

“You should leave,” Colby whispered.

That sentence hit like a blow to the solar plexus. Staggered, airless, Jason gasped, “What?”

“You should leave,” Colby said again, and the words sounded wrong, and not only because Jason couldn’t figure out how they’d hit that point.

He looked at Colby more closely. “Colby? Hey. You…you’re okay, right?”

Colby said nothing this time, and Jason took a step closer, and something was really wrong, because Colby didn’t react. No flinching away from unexpected touch, no tentative welcome of Jason’s touch. Nothing.

“Colby,” he tried. “Look at me.”

“But you’re leaving,” Colby said.

“I’m not. I’m not. What the f—no, okay, I’m here. I’m right here.” He held out a hand. “I’m here and I’m asking if it’s okay to touch you. Me. Jason.”

“You’re already not here,” Colby said. “It’s—it’s all right. You can go. I won’t make you stay. I know I’m not—I knew I’d get it wrong. I always do. You’re right and you should leave, you’ll be happier, that’s how it works, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh, God…” Jason couldn’t find air. Colby’s gaze held that far-off resigned quality, and that voice was all fractured, flat and not rippling, not as if he was trying but as if he’d simply given up…

He shoved out, “No. No, that’s not right, that’s not…I’m not leaving you, I’m not, I don’t know what to say, I don’t know if you’re even hearing me, Colby, please…”

“You’re trying to be kind,” Colby said distantly. “You always are. So kind. It’ll be easier if you make it clean.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Maybe repetition would work. His eyes prickled. “I don’t want to leave. And right now you’re really f*****g scaring me, Colby, baby, and I love you, and I don’t know what to do.”

Colby took this in. A bit of awareness returned. “You’re scared?”

“f**k yes!”

“I don’t understand.” Colby’s eyebrows drew together. “I—how can I help? I don’t want you to be scared.”

“Oh Jesus f*****g Christ,” Jason said, crying freely now. “Please. Please let me hold you, I won’t unless you say it’s okay, but I want to, if you do—how can you even ask—how can you help, God—”

“It’s fine,” Colby said, sounding honestly confused but more awake. “I like you holding me. Have I told you that? You feel nice.”

“You might’ve said—once or twice—” He folded arms around Colby. Guided them down to the bed, himself sitting up against the headboard, Colby cuddled up against him. Saltwater got mopped up by Colby’s hair. “You feel nice too.”

Colby snuck an arm around his waist in turn. “Is this helping?” Hesitant, afraid, courageous: Colby Kent would forever haul broken pieces back together and try his best to make the universe feel better if the universe indicated that it needed that.

“Yeah.” It was. “You’re helping. This is helping. You can hear me, right?” He stroked a hand over Colby’s head, over dark waves that needed soothing. “You know I’m here. Not going anywhere.”

“You’re here.”

“Completely.” More petting. Tangible assurances. “We have to talk about this. When you’re up to it. No rush.”

“I’m all right.” Colby, resting against Jason’s shoulder, shifted to look up at him. “Are you?”

“God. I don’t know. Give me a sec.” He dropped a kiss above Colby’s eyebrow. Hoped they could both feel that. “And, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not. What the hell happened?”

“I’m not certain.” Colby contemplated the last few minutes from the protected harbor of Jason’s embrace. “It’s honestly a bit of a blur. I remember what I said, I think, but…not how I got there. I—I panicked, a bit, didn’t I? I’m so sorry.”

“No. You don’t have to be. Not for that.” One more kiss. Confirmation. “I’m sorry. I said something that—that was a kind of trigger, right? Or I did something. And you went back there, in your head.”

“Something like that,” Colby agreed, leaning into him more. “Not so much back, I think. Not a memory. I simply…I couldn’t think. And I knew you’d leave. That’s what happens. You hurt me, or you leave, or both, because that’s all I deserve—oh, no, no, I don’t mean you you, you’re here. Don’t look like that. I do know you’re here. And you didn’t know that would happen. Neither did I, clearly. So you’re not apologizing for something you didn’t expect.”

“Yeah, so neither are you.” He nudged Colby, somewhere between a shake and a caress. “Okay. So we know for next time. Something about me raising my voice? Or my arms? All of that? I’ll work on it.”

“Next time?” Colby’s eyes were enormous, shining, weary and remorseful but beginning to hope. Visible. Written in that shimmering stripe of blue. “You think…we’re going to fight more?”

“Sometimes couples fight, right?” He made a rhythm out of fingers over Colby’s shoulder-blade, a cadence and a promise. “Especially if we’re moving in together.”

“Are we?”

“Told you I wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe we’ll argue about me not doing the dishes, or you borrowing the book I was reading and not giving it back, or whatever.” He stopped, moved the hand, touched Colby’s chin. “But I swear to you right now, I’m not ever gonna hurt you, okay? I won’t hit you and I won’t hurt you and I won’t use it against you in bed. And I won’t leave you. I know I can say that all day and it’s just gonna be words, and I can’t wave a magic wand and f*****g fix everything, but I’ll keep on showing you I mean it. You don’t have to believe me now. I just want you to hear me say it.”

Colby, chin lifted by Jason’s fingertips, smiled a fraction. “I believe you. Or at least every part of me that I can tell to listen…those all believe you.”

“Then those’re enough parts.”

“Jason…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re being splendid.” Colby smiled more, though his eyes were anxious. “And I love your, er, magic wand. Sorry. Not the time for those jokes. You said you were hurt. I did something that hurt you. What can we do to help you?”

Jason grimaced. That hurt had gone deep, and lingered. But he did know Colby hadn’t meant to cause the pain.

He hated Liam; he hated all Colby’s exes, and Colby’s parents, and everyone who’d made that storyteller’s heart believe that concealment of joy and talent and delight was the only option, with complete and gut-wrenching fury. But he loved Colby.

And maybe that came with some rocks and vines and shadows to trip over. But the path was clear. Because it was simple.

It was the truest piece of the universe. Jason Mirelli loved Colby Kent, and he believed that Colby loved him too.

He said, “Go ahead and make the wand jokes. I love that you want to. You get why I’m upset, right? Not because I’m mad at you. It’s just…I’m trying to get a handle on it. I know you trust me. But you also don’t. And it’s not your fault.”

“I do trust you,” Colby said. “It isn’t that I don’t, exactly. If I’d thought about it…I did think about it. And I decided to tell you. But you’re not wrong. I was scared, before that, so possibly I didn’t…trust us enough, maybe. I’m working on that. I’ll keep working on it. And yes, I think I understand. The way it felt. After everything we’ve shared, to think that I hadn’t felt safe sharing everything with you, to think I thought those things about you…can I at least apologize for the hurt? I know you’ll say I shouldn’t, but I mean it in the sense of…you’re hurt as a consequence of something I did, even if I didn’t mean to, and I do feel awful about that, and I want to tell you that I understand and I’m sorry.”