Talking to her was some salve to his wounds. But it didn’t take away that terrible loneliness. Henry didn’t do alone well. That was what had made Lance walking out last year so painful.
That last fight hadn’t been their first. Hell, it hadn’t even been their first fight where Lance had called him self-centered, and the biggest sticking point always seemed to be how much time Henry spent on the shop. They’d gotten together a couple of months before Henry had made the big move and decided to open his own place, and had broken up just short of him getting it stable. Lance’s protests had begun as simple requests that he not be forgotten, and Henry would oblige... until the work overtook his brain again. Had it been wrong of him? Of course.
Knowing that still hadn’t prepared him for the blowup when he’d come home that night. No chill, no attempt to talk. Lance had“been through this too many times”and wasn’t“going to play second fiddle to a stupid pastry shop that still hasn’t taken off.”
His final admonishment still played through Henry’s head when he was down enough and alone enough, reaching from the depths of his mind to torment him.“I’ve been trying to chip out a spot for myself in your life since we met. But there’s no room for me. You’re too in love with yourself for that.”Then the slamming of the door.
In the morning, after a fight, Lance always came back.
But Henry had woken up alone. And he’d cried for a while, but not for too long because he was running a pastry shop, and his peak hours were early, for breakfast.
In spite of Lance’s continued absence, a tiny spark of hope had burned inside Henry that he’d see Lance back when he came home that evening. Instead, he’d seen a closet half-filled, bookshelves partway emptied, and a couple of lamps missing.
And the key to the apartment with that stupid panda sticker Lance had stuck onto it.
That was close to a year ago, and the memories still managed to creep into his thoughts and cut him up from the inside.This is why I hate being alone. It’s an invitation for ghosts from the past.
The residual water cooled against his skin in the emptiness as he held his phone, hoping for a text message. The mild, unwavering churn in his stomach was nothing compared to the clawing of loneliness he felt in that moment. A sick, squelching, gnawing in the pits of his soul. One that begged him to run from it but refused to leave. Back home, he could have headed out to one of his usual haunts and found some companionship. He would have been out having that grasshopper with Carrie.
But even if his normal social reprieve was off the table, he couldn’t sit and wallow another second. He dressed himself for some level of propriety—pajama bottoms, baggy T-shirt—and marched himself out of that godforsaken room and over to the only company he could think of: Tristan. This time, there was no mangle of confusing or unhelpful emotions as he made his way down the mass-produced hallway. Henry knew exactly what he wanted: company. It didn’t matter what form it took, what they did, where they were, as long as he wasn’t alone with himself in that room.
He might have been willing to give up his own chiffon recipe if it meant not having to sit with his thoughts anymore. Not that Tristan would wanthis.
He knocked, and a few seconds later, the door pushed open. Tristan held a slim black cellphone to his ear. His eyes widened at first, but then he nodded to Henry and waved him in without ever breaking the stride of his conversation. “I’m glad I caught you while you were still up. How’s Karen handling staying at the apartment?” Tristan laughed as he gestured Henry toward the bed. “Tell her she can fight me if she doesn’t like the bathroom décor. And it’s autumn harvest, not orange. Yes, I know it’s orange too, but... stick up for me, would you, Lucia? Abuela’s bathroom was the same color.” He cringed. “Okay, point taken, I’ll consider changing it. So you’re both good?” Pause. “And you’d tell me if you weren’t?” Pause. Tristan turned to face out the window and lowered his voice, but Henry could still hear him. “Robert hasn’t been hanging around? You know he’s not allowed there. Well, I have to check over and over. I’m your big brother and I’m not going to let you get hurt, even if I am eight hundred miles away.”
Sounds serious.Henry considered disposing of himself in the bathroom for a while. At least for a few minutes. He could take the time to send Carrie one more text. But Tristan held up a finger at Henry before he could move.
“Okay, Lucia. I’m at the same number as always. Youcallme if something happens. No bullshit, and I don’t care how many times you’ve heard it already. Send Karen my love. And make sure you tell her she can fight me about the bathroom. I love you.” Tristan hung up the phone, then sat beside Henry. “Sorry. I promised my sister I’d call every day. And I wasn’t expecting company.”
“It’s not a problem with me.” Henry smiled at him. “Everything going okay? That convo sounded a little heavy.”
“Oh, that’s nothing. She doesn’t do well alone... I mean, I don’t do well with her being alone. Makes me nervous. Regular big brother stuff.”
“I wouldn’t know. Only child.” Henry stuffed his hands into his pockets. “But I get it. Family.”
“So, were you looking to try the hotel restaurant again?” Tristan slipped off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose, finger and thumb right against the indents they’d left behind. “Because I don’t think my taste buds are up for that.”
“No. I was just in that room and I was getting into my own head a little too much. Again. I tend to do better around other people than by myself. Like your sister, I guess.” Henry looked at the walls that were identical to his own, yet somehow twice as inviting and welcoming. “But if you’d rather be alone, I’m sure I can manage. I just... figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Oh god, it’s totally fine. I was even dressed this time.”
“Not like you’ve got anything I haven’t seen.”
Tristan slipped his glasses back on. “You don’t know what I’ve got, so don’t assume.” He smiled tightly. “I’ve actually got a portal to the netherrealm hidden somewhere on my body. But keep that under your hat.”
“Mum’s the word.” Henry chuckled. Loneliness and memory no longer clawed away at his stomach lining, but thatcommentsure did. His mind spun right back into teenage, hormone-fueled imagination.If this was a porno... Okay it would make a weird porno, but we’d totally be naked now. Or soon, anyway.Maybe Tristan had some more tattoos that hadn’t yet peeked their heads out of hiding. “So, your sister’s living with you?”
“It’s a temporary thing. She needed a place quick.” Tristan stared at the floor, twiddling his thumbs. He stayed silent a breath too long to seem natural, but not long enough for Henry to try to change the subject. “She... well, she had a rough time with her husband.”
“Oh.” Henry didn’t press for what that meant, exactly.None of my business.“I hope everything works out.”
“Yeah, me too. I was going to stay, but she made me promise I’d come and I’d try to win. She didn’t want me to lose out on it because of her.” He glanced up with a small, quiet laugh and unlaced his fingers. “I wasnotsold on it, but she’s doing okay, and she’s got someone I trust staying with her, so I’m able to relax a little bit.” He shook his head, like a dog getting rid of water. “I’m absolutely positive you came here for my intense family drama, right?”
“Hey, I’ve got company. That’s all I needed.” Henry stretched and tried to look somewhat natural. “So you call her every night?”
“As long as we’re not getting in at 3 a.m. or something crazy like that.”
“That’s some devotion.” Some real devotion. To something he cared about.Someonehe cared about. It made him all the more attractive. Hard to accomplish—he’d always been pretty—but this dug deeper. It was like finding out a guy could also sing or dance or was a black belt.
