Raph gestured him to the passenger’s compartment. “Your plane. Silvia is here to fulfill all your wishes. Your parents will be at the airport.” Winking, he went to the cockpit, and Gabe collapsed on a chair, his eyes on the outside. Leaning a bit forward when they caught on a large private jet. Bourne Land Development in golden letters running down the fuselage. That shape he knew by heart, that smooth gait, the wind catching whatever was left of his hair. Saying silent goodbyes. Knowing Damian would not look back as Harold pushed him inside the plane. The ladder taken away almost straight away.
Raph’s mocking voice from the cockpit. “We have to wait. Mister President CEO is first, of course.” Laughter.
Gabe’s throat tightened, a mild panic in him, watching that large jet roll away, roll out for take-off. Feeling their plane jolt, roll forward too. Stopping. And he was almost glued to that small window, watching Damian’s jet line up for take-off. Soft radio sounds. Raph’s voice. That jet rolling fast, picking up speed as his heart followed, watching it leave the ground, blast into that clear blue sky. His tears flew then, barely noticing that their plane was also rolling, taking off. Crying silently as they turned, taking another trajectory.
Chapter 18
Damianwatchedthegroundshrink, dizzy a bit, trying to ignore Harold, who had sat in front of him. Trying to shut out his panic of leaving Gabe. Of being without Gabe. His hands grabbed the armrests, white. That mounting fear of flying magnified by what he had lived. He turned to the clink of glasses, to Harold’s smile, pouring that golden liquid into two glasses.
He held one up to Damian. “Here. I know you didn’t want to drink in front of that guy, but we’re alone now, so cheers to us.”
Damian watched that glass, that sharp scent of the liquor invading his nostrils, that heightened sense of smell almost exhausted by the human world’s artifice. A mild panic rushing down his back when it made his mouth water. An urge to take that glass and down it there, which made him blanch. He waved it away, too fast, too strong, and it sloshed around the glass, on the table.
Harold put it down, licking off what had spilled on his hand. “Fuck man! Quit playing!”
“I’m not playing…” His voice, weak with that white panic, that strong smell pervading the space. Maddening. That glass on the table, still half-full. Listening to Harold drink, swallow, pour another one. His hand shook, and he almost reached for that glass when Gabe’s voice floated in.The fucking man in the mirror.He sat back, swallowing. “Take that thing away. I don’t drink.”
“Since when? Ah, but I get it. The island. No booze there? Tsk. Shame. Well, I have other entertainments for us.” His eyes were on a flight attendant, a young woman with heavy make-up, and clothes which were two sizes smaller. “Olivia here… is our special little treat…” He wiggled his eyebrows, ignoring the horror on Damian’s face. He waved her close and ran his hand up her skirt. “Tasty…” His eyes went to Damian. “Same as for the whiskey? No more women, either?” He was mocking, pushing his hand under her skirt. Her lips parted, red with lipstick. Harold leant closer. “Take her in the back and have a good fuck. You will soon forget that miserable little fag. You can’t fool me, Damian. Nobody becomes a fag like this.” He leant back with a smug smile, stroking the woman’s thigh.
Damian floated a bit on his words, split between rage and despair, but he just leant back, his voice cold. “Do whatever you want. I am done. With drinking. With women.”
He scoffed. “For sure!”
“What if I told you I was never into women in the first place, hmm?”
“What? Don’t give me the ‘in the closet’ talk. Not you. Not when we have fucked together at those orgies and parties.”
“So what?”
“So… my friend Damian Bourne would have drunk with me, snorted a few lines, taken some pills, and we would be fucking gorgeous Olivia here until we landed. I am not sure who you are.”
Damian leant back, his eyes going to the clear sky. “I am not sure, either. But definitely not your friend. The one you are missing.”
Harold rose. “That island ate your mind. But you’ll come around.” He took her hand and led her to the back, pulling the door shut.
Damian just watched the sky fly by, the landscape roll lazily. Listening to her muffled moans and screams. He leant his head against his fingers, gently massaging his temple, his heart in his heels. A sudden rage there, so he took the glasses and the bottle and threw them in the bin, slamming the lid shut. Mad at himself that he felt anything, seeing that amber liquid. Smelling it again. His whole body aching for a sip when he had thought it had been over for good.Only I can make it stop. I can make it stop.Blowing a breath, he sat back.
Another flight attendant, a young man, stepped to him, putting a tray on the table. “Your lunch, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Watching the view, his head leant against his fingers. That bitter taste at the back of his mouth.
Gabe watched the clouds, thinking how stupid this was, his bravery of leaving Damian when he could barely breathe without him. His eyes drifting to Raph, who just sat to face him. Taking his limp hands from his lap.
“How are you?”
Gabe pulled his hands out, crossing his arms. “Fine…”
Raph smiled. “I can only imagine what you went through. But you’re back now, and I’m ready to take care of you.”
Gabe’s eyes widened, that shock melting into soft rage. “I have Damian…”
Raph’s lips curled up. “Damian Bourne? You really think he’s going to give a shit about you when he gets his life back? That man is insanely rich. He can get whatever he wants… or whomever… and even if you managed to turn him gay with your impressive skills, he can get himself another boy.”
“I’m not a boy…” Not knowing what to say else, in utter shock at his words.
“Precisely.” He smiled, smoothing his palms on his crisp pilot pants. “Gabe… I love you… I never stopped loving you. We were good together? I’d like us to have a second chance.”
