“Yes, with everyone except you.”
It took me weeks to tell Ryker why I’d launched at him that day when he confessed his feelings for Freddie. He said he understood, and for years he didn’t mention him again in that way, but he overcompensated, mentioning every other guy, until at sixteen I asked him outright whether he still thought about Freddie. Ryker had braced himself while admitting his feelings for Freddie hadn’t wavered.
I didn’t launch at him that time. He introduced me to porn, and I returned the favour by showing him a video I’d found, one of my go-to videos, of twins lavishing attention on the third man in their threesome. It felt good watching two guys like us, identical twins, turn the man between them into a begging mess. I don’t think Ryker had ever watched brothers with one other guy, let alone twins, but he couldn’t get enough of it afterwards. That video became our favourite porno. And the brothers became our favourite porn stars. We saw ourselves in them, and Freddie in every male performer who got paired with them.
“Maybe on the stag I can . . . tie him up somewhere, kidnap him.”
I twitch my fingers, wanting to touch the handcuffs secured to my belt, but its Sunday, and I’m off duty.
“I’m joking,” Ryker says wide-eyed. He’s read where my mind was going from my pensive expression. “Obviously I was joking.”
“It wasn’t funny, and it could work . . .”
“Jesus, Liam,” Ryker laughs. “Have you forgotten your vocation?”
“The opposite. I’ve got cuffs, and restraints, and the knowledge to get away with it.”
He stares at me, and says deadpan, “Right well, that’s okay, then . . .”
I nod.
“We’re not kidnapping him,” Ryker says slowly, deliberately, hoping it’ll sink in, but the thought of kidnapping Freddie is the first thing that’s lifted my brain fog in days.
“Then what are we going to do?” I ask.
“Tell him.”
I come closer and drag out the opposite chair. “We tell him we’ve been in love with him since we were kids, and he can’t marry Keegan, or anyone else for that matter.”
Ryker slumps. “We can’t stop him marrying her or anyone else. It’s what he wants. But we can decline being his best men, put a bit of distance between us in the hope I can stop finding loud men to fuck and you cure yourself of the poison upstairs in our bathroom.”
“Keiron isn’t poison.”
“Yes he is, you know he his. He’s poison you willingly take because you’re controlling the dose and the potency. You know you can cure it too by getting rid of it at any time, but you don’t. You like feeling shit.”
I don’t deny it. My relationship with Keiron is complicated, but the emotions aren’t. We don’t like each other, but we still sleep together. The sex is great for him, but disappointing for me, though it’s somewhat of a distraction. I’m not Ryker, I can’tcharm men into bed. I’m a grumpy arsehole, and Keiron’s okay with that, and this . . . situationship has been going on for years.
“Being in a relationship and feeling shit is better than being single and feeling the same. You fuck guys who scream your name because you know the one person you actually want to scream it in ecstasy, never will.”
Ryker shrugs. “That’s about right. We’re both fucked up thanks to Freddie Lester, so maybe it’s time we getun-fucked.”
“It’ll hurt him.”
“I know,” Ryker whispers. “But with some distance, time apart, it might do us good. We’ll still be his friends, we’ll just meet up less, ween ourselves off him. It’ll be okay.”
I don’t know if he’s trying to convince me or himself, but I’ve never been less convinced of anything in my life.
The thought of seeing Freddie less grows an ache beneath my ribs, and my internal voice shoutsno, no, no. It growls it like a beast. My heart rate spikes, and my thighs and calves throb with this irrational need to run. I want to rush out of here and find Freddie. I want to snatch him away. I don’t wantless. What I want is more, to wake up and have him in my bed, sandwiched between me and Ryker. I want to know he’s here in this house when I’m on the way home from work. I want his possessions—his clothes—everywhere in this place, mixed with mine and Ryker’s.
But there’s never been even a hint that Freddie’s interested. All he needed was to show curiosity, and we would’ve blown his mind. But no, he’s straight, and his two best friends are gay. One loves carefree romps, and the other is in a relationship. That’s how he sees us. That’s his comfortable place, his norm. It’s security for him knowing he has us as friends, but for us it’s painful, its longing, and unrequited love.
It hurts to be his best friend, and I think it’ll hurt even more without him, but we can’t live like this forever. Maybe if I stop seeing Freddie, I’ll be able to give Keiron a proper chance.
That lie I tell myself is particularly sour, but I swallow it down anyway.
3
Freddie
