Jag tilted his head. “In five sentences?”
“Yes.”
Jag pulled a face, contorting his lips and wrinkling his nose.
“Is the email to make them feel better or you?” Michael asked.
Jag shrugged. “Neither, really. I don’t want to hurt them. Writing and sending it won’t make me feel any better. It won’t change what happened or how angry I am about it. I just want to close the door on them.”
“For good?”
Jag shook his head slowly. “For now.” Cutting himself off from them completely would hurt, but it was what he had to do. It was the only way he would be able to heal and become whole again.
“Then surely what you’ve written is enough?”
Jag blinked fiercely as he read the words again.
I want you to know I’m safe and happy. I love you both. I need you to leave me alone and stop looking for me. I need you to let me live my life the way I want to, loving whomever I want to. I need you to let me be happy.
He twisted round so he was facing the laptop. Michael’s arms wrapped around him from behind, giving him the strength to finish the email.
Goodbye,
Jeremy.
Two words. It still didn’t feel like enough. Using his given name felt weird, but there was no way he was going to give them the satisfaction of knowing what he was calling himself now. He’d have to become Jeremy again, at least on applications for courses and bank accounts, but the rest of the time he would remain Jag. Using the trackpad, he hovered the cursor over the send button. It was stupid that he should feel so nervous. Butterflies swarmed in his stomach and threatened to force their way up his throat.
Michael’s hand rested over his. “Need help?”
Jag shook his head, and Michael’s hand moved away, back to his waist. “It’s taken me days to write this,” he whispered. “Days to write so little.”
“No,” Michael said. “It’s taken you time to get used to the idea of not having to run and that your parents don’t have any power over you anymore. That’s what’s hard. I think…” He rubbed the tops of Jag’s arms. “I think you said goodbye the day you ran away.”
“Yeah,” Jag agreed. “You’re probably right.”
“Sending this email isn’t just a message to them; it’s a message to yourself that you’re free to beyou.”
“Without fear?” Jag breathed.
Michael kissed his neck. “Without fear,” he agreed.
Jag inhaled and clicked ‘send’, listening to the soft electronic whoosh that signified the email had been sent. Almost immediately, the butterflies stopped swarming in his gut. He closed the email tab, shut the laptop lid, and turned into Michael’s arms, holding him tightly and breathing him in.
Live without fear. He could do that.
28Jag
“You’re up next, kid,” Mac said.
Jag still hadn’t got used to seeing the older man in a suit, but he did look good in it. Since being promoted to assistant manager eight months earlier, Mac had thrown himself into the role, and Michael had allowed himself the occasional night off. But not tonight. Jag knew Michael would be front of house whilst he danced.
He slipped onto the stage during the blackout, posing at the pole.
“You’ve seen hell; now meet our angel,” the DJ said seductively over the PA system.
A single white spotlight flicked on, shining down on him. Jag’s heartbeat increased as exhilaration kicked in. He felt the audience drew in a collective breath. The music started, and he began to dance. He was alone on the stage, just as Michael had envisioned him that very first day. It almost felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since then.
He did a slow, seductive body roll against the pole before spinning around it. As he danced, he caught sight of Michael, standing near the steps that led up to the entrance. For the length of the dance, Jag knew Michael’s attention would be fixed solely on him. It still gave him a thrill. He hoped it always would.
