“Peter.” I felt it. The immense anger still in him. The vibrations in his chest as he once again shook his head.
“It was constant, Oliver. All the time. I fluttered from being absolutely exhausted to being blissfully happy every time it ended. Because she would come home, to me. And then things would settle down, and we would drift back to what we were. Our lives became good again. Vibrant. Laughter everywhere.”
He had tears in his eyes. He wiped them away almost aggressively.
“I allowed it. Because…she needed it. And at times? I thought I needed it too. And it wasn’t all…bad.” He intonated that word in a way I didn’t like.
“I…always had a thing for…you know.” He wriggled his hand like he was showing me something I couldn’t see.
“No. I don’t,” I said sternly. He flinched.
“It wasn’t always like this. I was quite open with it. It wasn’t a secret, not as such. I didn’t flaunt it, but we had…friends. And sometimes we…shared our…intimacy.”
“You had…what? Threesomes?”
“We called it… It wasn’t serious, you know? Just a healthy sex life. She got to live out her…intimate desires.”
“And you got to…what? Fuck men?”
He gulped on air. The triggers were fucking clear because I had lived with mine. All my life.
“You have to stop doing that. Pretending that you’re not queer, because it’s fucking bloody clear to me and everyone in this house that you are.”
“I know.” His voice was barely audible. “I am. And yes.”
“Why lie then?” Such a stupid question. But one I needed to ask.
“The boys were…ten, I think. Mary had a long run ofFairy Wingsin the West End, and I used to… Fuck. No. Before that.”
“You don’t have to.” I held him. Tight.
“There were so many…other people. So many nights I thought it would all go south. I thought I would break.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” I shushed him.
“One of the men…was mine.”
The weight of those words was… I could feel them. The sheer tension hanging in the air like he expected me to let him go. Walk away. Let him writhe in this cloud of…
Shame. It was right there. Surrounding us. A heavy cloud I wanted to lift away.
He had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.
“That was before. Before this. Before you met me.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But…” He took a deep breath. “Fairy Wings. There was a man…and I used to go sit backstage and wait for Mary, and he was one of the dancers. He was beautiful, Oliver. And…he took a bit of a shine to me. Mary thought it was hilarious.”
“She knew?”
“She always knew. We told each other everything.”
“No secrets.”
“Zero,” he whispered. “And she started sending him in. She’d go on stage, and he would turn up and kneel on the floor. Make me…”
“I don’t need to know.”
“It was… It became…”
