It’s true. Lucas hasn’t been the one on the forefront of Sam’smind for the past few months. That place has been occupied by a frustrating little French man who always tries to invalidate his feelings.
But Sam remembers Spa. He remembers the Ferraro on fire, how desperate he was for any information on Thomas.
Sam’s heart stopped that day, and it had nothing to do with Lucas.
“Thomas, I love you.” It escapes as a soft plea. “Thomas, I—I need you.Please.”
He’s not sure he’s still talking about the Red Boar seat. The need is bone-deep—a prayer to keep Thomas close to him. To feel like he has some sort of control over these emotions that are far too big for him to comprehend.
“Samuel.” Thomas looks like he’s been shot—surprised, but pained. “You do not.”
“Stop telling me how I feel. I do, Iloveyou!”
“It is okay for us to only be physical.” Thomas turns away, towards the too-large room. “I know it can be difficult to separate, but please, do not say these things you do not feel for me.”
There he goes again. “I’m saying it because Idofeel it. I love you, why can't you understand that?”
“The person you love is Lucas.” Why doesn’t Thomaslookat him when he says this shit? “I am just—I am his replacement. You want me in the bed, now you want me in the car.”
“I wasn’t the one who wanted areplacement!” Even after the confusion at the club, Sam never would’ve thought of their arrangement—that was all Thomas. Sam was the one who wanted to forget. “It wasyourobsession withRafaelthat started this whole mess.”
“This is not about Rafael.”
“Then it isn’t about Lucas—it never was aboutLucas!” Desperation claws up his throat. “Jesus fuck, even the very firsttime. You told me to keep quiet, you called outhisname, but you still weren’t Lucas to me.”
Thomas’s head finally snaps back. “What?”
“When you turned around and started talking, you were so, soThomas, I couldn’t picture him anymore. I came thinking about you—lookingat your face. Then I asked for more. Stop pretending you know how I feel when you don’t knowanything!”
Sam’s breath falls in heavy pants. He might’ve gone too far.
Thomas, on the other hand, is stock-still. “Since the beginning?”
Sam nods violently as he swallows.
“I…” Thomas shudders out an exhale. It doesn’t sound good. “I do not know what to say.”
“Say you’ll join Red Boar. Tell me you love me too—that you choose me over Rafael.Please.”
“I—” Tears well up in his eyes when Thomas finally responds. “I cannot say those things.”
Oh.
So that’s how it is.
His fixation on Rafael is so strong that he’d rather long for a man who doesn’t care about him—a man who thinks he eatscroissants—than be with someone who wants him. Someone who knows him. Someone who only has eyes for him.
That’s how it always is, isn’t it?
Second place for Sam. Again.
He picks up his discarded shirt and his shoes in one fell swoop. He doesn’t bother putting anything on, he just walks out of the room.
The sound of Thomas calling his name is cut off by the slamming of the hotel door. It’s almost satisfying for their relationship to end with such a harsh and final noise.
Several people in the hallway turn to see who would dare cause such a commotion, and their mouths drop.
Fuck. Fans.
