“You’re worth it.”
Jag pulled a sour face but corrected it quickly into a smile again.
“Maybe if I keep saying it, you’ll start believing it.” Michael didn’t understand how Jag could appear so confident on stage and when he was putting on his flirtatious persona, yet was so unsure when he let his guard down.
“I hope so,” Jag said. “I—” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I don’t think I could eat another bite. But it was lovely, thank you.”
Michael stared at him for a second, wondering what he’d been about to say. He doubted he’d ever find out, but the fact that Jag was starting to feel comfortable enough to almost open up to him meant a lot.
He cleared away the picnic things, packing them back into the hamper, which he pushed aside.
“Wait here.”
Jag frowned but stayed put. Michael went over to the lighting deck.
“Do you know what you’re supposed to do after a picnic?”
“No. What?”
“Look at the stars.” He switched off the star curtain and then turned on the mirror ball, setting it to a slow speed. He loved the way the white fragments of light trailed over Jag’s slender body and fine face.
He jogged back over to the stage, joining Jag on the blanket.
“Lie down?”
Jag did so, and Michael lay beside him. He threaded his fingers through Jag’s, and together they stared at the slowly revolving pattern of light on the ceiling.
“Are we meant to call out constellations, too?” Jag asked in a hushed voice.
“If these were real stars, yes.”
Jag let out a soft snort. “Where’s your imagination, Michael? You dreamt up the idea of an indoor picnic. Surely you can make up constellations too?” He lay with his free arm draped across his stomach for a few seconds before raising his hand to point at the ceiling. “See? That’s the Little Dipper.” He paused as Michael snorted, before saying, “Your turn.”
Michael squeezed Jag’s hand as he made himself a little more comfortable. “Okay then.” Jag had thrown down the gauntlet, and there was no way he wasn’t going to rise to the challenge. He pointed to a different section of the black ceiling. “There’s the Forker. Can you see it?”
Jag stared in the direction he was pointing, chuckling. “Oh, yeah, that’s a really famous one.” He pinched his lips, knotting his eyebrows together thoughtfully before pointing again. “Look, over there, the Big Cocker.”
Michael laughed so hard he thought his sides would burst. When he’d managed to get control of himself, he pointed to a different section of the black ceiling. “And that’s Rule thirty-four.” He expected Jag to crack up laughing with him, but when he glanced at the young man, his forehead was crumpled in confusion. “You haven’t heard of rule thirty-four?”
Jag shook his head.
Michael cleared his throat. “Rule thirty-four: if it exists, there’s porn of it. If there isn’t, there will be.”
Jag’s chin trembled, and he averted his gaze. Michael propped himself up on his elbow, staring down into the young man’s face.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Jag whispered in a tone that suggested he really wasn’t. “It’s just…” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Give me a second.” He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed slowly and calmly for several moments.
Michael waited, ashamed to have inadvertently caused Jag pain whilst simultaneously confused at what it was he’d said wrong.
Jag took one final breath before putting on a bright smile and pointing at the ceiling again. “The Frosty Nips,” he announced.
Michael forced himself to smile. He didn’t feel much like fake stargazing anymore. He wanted to hold Jag and ease whatever pain he was in. He rolled onto his side and pulled Jag’s hand to his lips so he could kiss his palm. Jag turned to face him, and they lay still for several minutes, not talking nor needing to. They simply stared into one another’s eyes, losing track of time as the scattered reflections of light from the mirror ball trailed over their faces. Michael decided it was the wrong time to suggest sex under the ‘stars’. Besides, he didn’t need to get physical with Jag to enjoy being with him. Just being this close to him, without Jag twitching to leave, was enough. He was grateful that Jag wasn’t running away, that he was happy to share this moment with him.
After a while, Jag snuggled into him, and they held one another. Michael kissed Jag’s hair and then allowed his eyes to drift shut. Their breathing settled into the same, slow rhythm, their heartbeats matching one another as they pressed their bodies together. It was a rhythm that made Michael drowsy. Slowly, still holding on to each other, they drifted off to sleep.
16Jag
