TWENTY
Aaron was gone when Brad woke up, which wasn’t that much of a surprise. The night before, he had seemed utterly fixated only on sex, not on any sort of communication. Besides, Brad had slept in more than he usually did, far more, and he had forgotten to set the alarm. When he looked at his phone, he saw that it was already almost eleven in the morning. When had the last time been that he had stayed in bed that long? He literally couldn’t remember.
The plane left at twelve, and that was a bit of a relief. Brad didn’t have time to think about anything, only to rush around like a chicken with his head cut off, furiously throwing things into his bag and then running out the door to get to the plane on time.
He made it, though only just. But he wasn’t late, and that was something. The Lost Boys were just boarding the plane when Brad drove up, and he smiled a little bit when he saw the flash of sun on crimson hair and knew very well that it was Aaron.
The previous night, it had seemed like Brad didn’t mean much other than sex to Aaron, but there could be no doubt that Aaron meant something to Brad. Far too much already. Brad wouldn’t push it, but neither would he apologize for it.
Maybe he should back off, though. When he got onto the plane, he saw Aaron had headphones in, listening to music, and on top of that he was reading a book. He couldn’t have been any more clear if he’d put up a glowing neon DO NOT DISTURB sign all in capital letters above his head, and Brad settled down to wait.
And wait. And wait. For the whole trip, Aaron didn’t so much as look over at Brad. He didn’t glance his way even once. Even when they landed in Canada, Aaron was the first one off of the plane, and he didn’t so much as glance back.
“What’s up with him?” Ken asked, and Brad shook his head. He would have given anything to be able to answer that question, even just for himself, but he couldn’t.
Or could he? Was that the real problem, that he knew very well what had happened? That Aaron had said goodbye the night before? He also couldn’t help but notice that Lance and Jamie both shot him a curious look. Ken might be clueless, but those two weren’t, and they might be wrapped up in each other a lot of the time, but neither of them were stupid.
It didn’t matter anymore. Let them know. Let them tell everyone. Brad could honestly tell them that he and Aaron weren’t together, he was pretty sure of that. He could demand the truth from Aaron, and maybe he even would, but part of him had the sense that it was already over.
* * *
That mindset lasted until after the show, sold out, of course, as all of their shows had been. And Brad was backstage, as he always was, and never, not even for a moment, did Aaron’s lovely eyes find his. Never did they exchange a word, or even so much as a glance.
The world was a cold, lonely place. Only that wasn’t true. The world was the same that it had always been, and it was Brad who had changed. Brad who had foolishly let himself feel things for someone who could never feel things for him back.
“I guess you’re probably going back to sleep now, right, Aaron?” Ken asked, though his voice and his eyes, still had hope in them as he gazed at Aaron. Brad held his breath, not wanting to risk missing Aaron’s answer, even as he sort of kicked himself for being so pathetic and eager.
“No,” Aaron said, and Brad’s shoulders slumped as he turned away so that he didn’t have to look at Aaron not looking at him anymore. “I’ll come out if you guys are going.”
What else could Brad have expected? Still without looking back, not wanting to feel mocked by the sincere joy that he knew that Aaron’s bandmates would feel when he felt a fair bit like he’d just been slugged in the stomach by a giant.
Alone, he went back to his hotel room, and alone, he placed his briefcase precisely in the exact center of the table. Alone, like he had always been like it seemed like he always would be, and it wasn’t self-pity. It was nothing more or less than a fact.
With a soft sigh, he opened his briefcase, for no other reason than to look at the contracts that he knew would be inside of it. To remind himself that, no matter what the deal was with his personal life, he was still Aaron’s boss, and he needed to get an answer out of him …
There was only one contract there.
Brad knew that the other contract had been there just twenty-four hours before. He knew because, once a day, he had fallen into the habit of opening up his briefcase and looking at them, mostly to remind himself of what he was supposed to be doing, and hadn’t been.
So he knew what the contracts looked like, and he knew that one of them was missing. Something was wrong, terribly, horribly wrong, and his fingers shook just the tiniest bit as he reached for the papers, neatly stapled together, moving the contract out of the way just in case things had somehow shifted, just in case he was wrong.
But he wasn’t. He wasn’t wrong at all. And he knew which contract was missing, too. The one he held wasn’t very many pages, so what had happened to the long contract, the one that he had, foolishly, perhaps, been holding out hope that Aaron would someday sign?
The papers in his hands fell open, and Brad felt a cold grip, icy fingers on his guts, making him freeze from the inside out.
Aaron’s name was signed at the bottom of the contract. All of a sudden, the mystery of where the longer one had gone didn’t matter much, not in the face of this. Aaron had signed the contract and then left it there for Brad to find.
Until that point, Brad had been more or less content to let Aaron pull away. To take time, if he needed it. He had prepared himself as much as possible for what might happen if Aaron officially ended things, but never could he have imagined a betrayal such as this.
He had his answer, and he hadn’t even meant enough to Aaron for the younger man to talk to him in person. Aaron had slunk away, leaving only this sheaf of papers to tell the story, and all of a sudden, Brad felt the sadness, the gray cloud which had hung heavy over his head ever since he’d realized that Aaron had been pulling away, disappear into nothing.
No. Aaron didn’t get to have this all his way. Brad had been patient, but he deserved answers, and he was going to get them. Aaron didn’t owe him a relationship but damned if he didn’t owe Brad an explanation. The attempt to leave without one was nothing short of utter cowardice.
It wasn’t even like Brad had a lot of doubt about what that answer was going to be, because he didn’t. But regardless, he was going to have it. He was going to make this one last attempt.
If nothing else, it would be closure. That was better than nothing, which was what he had right now. Nothing other than a signed contract that spoke louder than words, if Brad let himself listen.
* * *
