He’s so lightheaded, he might faint. “You can’t prove it.”
“I’m literally holding a mysterious envelope, Owen. It’s not for coupons.” Nate opens the envelope and pulls out a stack of photos. He holds them in front of Owen’s face until he has no choice but to take them. His brain needs a few moments to catch up with his eyes. The quality of the photos isn’t great, as if they were taken from a video recording.Likea security camera.But it’s clearly him on that couch, snorting coke like a damn fool.
“You made me take those drugs.” He sounds pitiful, but his fear is paralyzing.
“First of all, I’m not in any of these photos. And second, it doesn’t seem like anyone is holding a gun to your head, junkie boy.” Nate snatches the images from Owen’s hands and slides them back into the envelope. “You look like you’re about to cry.”
“I’m not.” He is. He can feel the itching in his eyes. “I need to sit.” He stumbles to a nearby bench and slumps on it. The fear of going to prison is more than he can handle. “Please don’t show these to anyone. I’m begging you.”
Nate comes over. “I hate that you’re putting me inthis situation, man. I would never have tricked you if you’d just listened to me about Will. He’s bad news, but he’smybad news. You get that?”
“I…” He wipes his eyes. All that he has fought to achieve is crumbling. “I really like him.”
Nate puts his hand on Owen’s shoulder. “I know you do, but I think you like freedom just a bit more.” He holds Owen’s chin and raises his head. “Will or freedom, Owen. What will it be?”
Chapter 18
Will
The smell of the meat pie in the oven is wonderful. It’s an old recipe from his mom, but he forgot how to make it. Luckily, Julie remembered, and she wrote it down for him earlier when he went to visit her. Just like in the previous times he went to visit, today she also insisted he tell her all about Owen. He explained to her that there was nothing to update on a daily basis.
Things are tense because of what is happening in town, but when the two of them are together in the safety of Will’s house, or even outside of town, they can pretend there isn’t a dark cloud following them around.
This current situation brings back painful memories of the long months Will barely left his house. Back then, stepping outside felt like entering a warzone, and he had no ammunition to fight with. But this time feels different, maybe because it’s not himself he’s worried about.
He finishes setting up the small dining table by lightinga tall candle at the center. He doesn’t know if he’d consider himself a romantic, but it feels like something he can get good at.
They rented three of the movies Owen wanted Will to watch, and they have already finished two of them. Maybe they will watch the third one tonight. He wishes that not all gay movies were sad and filled with struggle. As if a gay man can’t escape the complexity of his life even through watching a movie. Owen thinks that someday they’ll make gay movies that are fun and romantic, maybe even television shows, but Will is doubtful.
As he waits for Owen to arrive, he checks himself in the mirror. His hair has grown a bit longer than usual, looking more wavy. He’s wearing dark, elegant clothes, even though they are too nice for a dinner inside, but he felt like giving it extra effort tonight. As he looks into his green eyes, the spark in them is undeniable. It almost feels like looking into the eyes of a stranger, and he likes the man who is staring back at him.
At the knock on the door, Will goes to open it. “Hey you.” He frowns at the look on Owen’s face. “What happened?”
“I… I screwed up. I’m fucked.”
In the two steps it takes Owen to enter, he’s already sobbing. Will pulls him into a hug, holding back from asking the dozens of questions that are circling in his head.
“I’m so fucked,” he keeps on sobbing. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Whatever it is, just relax so we can talk.”
“I shouldn’t even be here,” Owen mumbles into Will’s shoulder. “He might know I’m here.”
“Who might know?”
“Nate. Fuck, I hate him!”
Will holds him tighter, hoping to calm him down as his own fear grows. “Can I get you water?”
“No, I want to sit.”
“Okay.” Will lets go, but instead of going to the couch, Owen slumps on the floor, holding his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth. “Such a fuck-up,” he mumbles. “I’m such a fuck-up.”
Will sits down as well and wraps his arms around Owen, pulling him against his chest. He’s shaking badly, his heart beating so fast; Will can feel it through his back.
“I need you to breathe now, Owen. You’re having a panic attack.”
“I am? Oh shit, I don’t want that.”
