Chapter Forty-Two – Breaking Apart
A name was hardly enough, but Hearst had the doggedness necessary for finding more. Like a hunting dog, he could smell the tracks left by humans in the wilderness that was the internet, even cold ones. If there was anything he could pretend to be good at it was sniffing details out of the least promising lead.
Still, the time factor was pressing down on him and keeping him there. Wen must have had more to go on than Jamie's family name, but Hearst didn't want to insist on getting more details out of his brother. The main reason for his reluctance lay with how much his older sibling would feel inclined to ask for in return. Most likely, something unattainable such as his soul could very well be on the line.
Their family had always been fucked up if he took a moment to think about old times. He and Wen had to learn the dictionary day after day so their dad could test them at the end of the week. It was a tedious, boring chore that Hearst hated from the bottom of his heart, but apparently a journalist wouldn't dare to take one breath in the real world without knowing all of the words in the English language.
"And yet," he murmured under his breath, "brevity is the soul of wit."
They read extensively, he and Wen, and for all that reading, they appeared to become less and less in touch with their existence as social animals. In other words, they were awkward and inadaptable. How he had managed to get so close to Jamie, who was a normal, well-adjusted individual, even close enough to have sex with him, was a partial mystery. The non-mysterious part had to be the mask he was wearing. It kept him safe from revealing his true self to Jamie in more ways than one. Not showing his face worked wonders for his confidence; at the same time, it allowed him the leeway to pretend he was someone he wasn't, someone cooler, more sophisticated, and yes, better tuned in to the normal rules people observed in the real world, not the rules to be found in the land of books.
His head was starting to hurt, and his eyes were getting tired, too. With a sigh, he hid his face in the crook of his elbow, allowing himself a moment of reprieve. What was it about Jamie's family that Wen thought would be so revealing and abhorrent to everyone else? Hearst couldn't imagine a single thing that would cause someone to think of Jamie as being any different from what he currently was. Wen was definitely creating drama out of nothing, which wasn't a surprise. For the four years at Sunny Hill during which he had run Xpress, he had proven his talents in creating gossip out of nothing. More than once, Hearst had thought those items to be as campy as hell, but he had played along. They were brothers; hadn't their dad prepared them for that?
He had missed all his classes today, caught up as he was in discovering the skeletons in Jamie's closet so he could counter whatever LiveFeed had in mind to use for ruining the reputation of their star in the making.
Hearst had expected some foul play from LiveFeed from the very beginning, but this was devilry on a whole different level. Or was it? He hadn't watched a lot of reality TV in a long time, but it was all about drama, drama, drama. Was Jamie's family drama juicy enough to create the ratings the producers of the show hoped for?
Hearst rolled over onto his back and studied the ceiling, in search of answers that weren't there. Jamie was a good guy. No matter what his family had done, it didn't matter. Only not everyone thought the same way about the same thing. How did that saying about dragons and rats go? Something about dragons giving birth to dragons, while rats' children were bound to gnaw holes all their lives?
He waved the unpleasant thought away by brushing one hand over his eyes.
His phone interrupted his train wreck of thought. Jamie's name on the screen should have made him feel happy, but not right now. Right now, he needed to figure this shit out and before Jamie sustained any real damage.
If he didn't pick up, Jamie might sense that something wasn't quite right. So, after slapping his cheeks hard and working them to make the forced smile broadcast the right expression over the phone speaker, he fished the thing from the crumpled sheets.
"Are you done with school for the day?" Jamie asked him.
"With classes, yes. But I need to study," Hearst replied promptly.
"I'm leaving tomorrow. And I know you're not that big a fan of studying."
"Are you asking me to ditch my textbooks for you?" Hearst's intention hadn't been to sound so belligerent, but his choices were terribly limited.
"Only for today. After tonight, I'll call every day to scold you if you're not working hard toward your graduation."
Was this the same guy Wencel believed to have cold, dark secrets hidden from the world? Hearst resisted the urge to melt at Jamie's words. "Sorry, can't do," he said quickly. "And aren't you supposed to pack?"
"I already did," Jamie replied, sounding rightfully stunned by Hearst's irritated tone. "What's going on? You'd usually jump at the opportunity to spend time with me. Don't tell me I'm old news already."
If only Jamie were old news. Wen would maybe give up on his weird vendetta and LiveFeed wouldn't exist in their lives at all.
"No, nothing like that. It's just that I have a paper to write and it's due Thursday," he lied through his teeth. "So I can't spare a moment."
"Okay," Jamie said slowly. "Are you still mad about this morning? I know it's short notice and--"
"Jamie, I have nothing against you living your life, okay?" Great, in his effort to distance himself, he was creating a big mess. But that was par for the course for someone who belonged to the Smith family. Had their dad chosen such weird names for him and his brother to compensate for how average and ordinary they actually were?
There was a reason not many people at school knew him by Hearst. He wouldn't have survived having an unusual name on top of all his other awkwardness. Not that he had friends; between dodging classes with artful abandon and running Xpress with his brother and then, presumably, alone, he didn't have time for cultivating meaningful interactions with other people.
"Someone's pissed. You're pissed," Jamie said with an odd finality in his voice. "I suppose this break is coming at the right time. Now, do you want me to call while I'm away, or should I give you a proper breather?"
What was Wen saying? That Jamie was a coward, a leaver? He did sound like one right now. Hearst shook his head. No, that was just his stupid brother getting into his head. Jamie was giving him space because Hearst was asking for it. Not in so many words, which was funny because he was supposed to be a wordsmith by definition. No wonder Jamie was an expert in dealing with broken-hearted guys. He was not only well-adjusted to the outside world; he was fine-tuned to it and understood a lot more than others.
Only that, in this case, he was wrong. Hearst was only desperately trying to find something that would give him an edge in helping Jamie escape the fate of all reality TV stars: nasty gossip, unnecessary drama, and above all, having their names go down in infamy. In the end, it all was lost in oblivion, which was a worse fate for some, but that would only come later.
"Will you give up on this stupid tour if I asked you to?" Hearst asked directly. It was petulant, childish, to ask for such a thing, but he had one last hope, to protect Jamie by having him dodge the bullet completely, instead of going into a war he had no idea was brewing.
"That's a bit much, don't you think?" Jamie's reply hurt.
They weren't on the same page. Hearst wasn't asking for a declaration of undying love, but the flat refusal resting behind the words exchanged between them spoke loud and clear. He wasn't important enough for Jamie to give up on going head-first into a trap.
It was unreasonable and stupid. On his part, not Jamie's.
"Well, I suppose that's your answer," Hearst said in a clipped manner. The research he needed to undertake couldn't take any more postponing. Leaving aside the hurt feelings that didn't exist, cold hard facts needed discovering. And that was what he needed to do.
***
What the hell had just happened? Jamie stood in the center of his room, with the phone in one hand, staring blankly at the wall. Cottontail had been beyond strange today. And now… what the hell?
It felt like they had broken up. Was there even a relationship between them to break in the first place? They had danced around each other, with jabs and sometimes demonstrations of their attachment, but was it all real or only in his head?
Jamie dropped down onto the bed, groaning. He threw the phone to one side, while he struggled to process the odd conversation he'd just had with his bunny boy.
Not his, apparently. Three months was a long time for young people, even if Jamie didn't share that particular view. Was Cottontail giving him a way out? Did he think that Jamie would cheat on him because of the long, unwanted break they had to take?
Well, it wasn't completely unwanted by him. Jamie had decided to follow LiveFeed's whims and hop on the fame train, while easily forgetting about the guy who had stood by his side, helping him navigate the treacherous waters in his path. And now, this was his way of showing his gratitude.
He'd been in the same situation before. When things didn't go his way, he left. Wasn't that the same thing he'd done, over and over again? Those times were different, though, he told himself. At times, as he was getting close enough, he could see right through people. Their actions mattered less than their motivations. Was a kind hand any less of that if an absent, narrow mind was behind the benevolent gesture?
Great, he was starting to sound like his bunny boy in his own head. Too much overthinking was bad for one's health. What he needed to do right now was to follow his dream of becoming a known drummer. Cottontail might not wait for him, but Jamie would do the one thing he hadn't done before in similar circumstances.
He'd come back. And, unless his masked skittish bunny had found someone else by then, they'd have a long talk and take off their masks.
And he'd call anyway. Even though it felt as if they were breaking apart.
When his phone went off, he threw himself so hard at the thing that he almost sent it flying to the floor.
His expression changed when he saw the name of the caller. "Hi, Arthur," he forced himself to sound as nonchalant as ever. "Dinner plans? No, I can't say that I have any. Yeah. How formal are we talking about? Okay, that will do."
Arthur most likely had some last-minute advice. It was a good way to keep his mind off of Cottontail's famous last words.
***
Jamie shifted in his chair. It wasn't like him to feel uncomfortable, no matter the circumstances, but the place was way too posh for his taste. He had supposed Arthur would invite him to a restaurant where artists would gather, but the moment he had set foot in here, he had felt undressed and a target for unpleasant stares from other patrons.
Arthur wasn't even there, but the maître d' had measured him up and down and then showed him the way to the table, while showering him with unwanted saccharine attention. Like the comments under the LiveFeed posts, insults hovered right under the surface.
Jamie didn't give a fig about proving anyone right or wrong about him. He had lived long enough being himself, and he wasn't going to change his ways because of some posh assholes.
What was Arthur thinking, inviting him to a place like this? He began playing with a napkin for lack of anything better to do. He could take out his phone, but then he would feel tempted to call his bunny boy and request a rescue operation.
Some of Cottontail's weirdness must have rubbed off on him, because he didn't usually think too much into an uncomfortable situation. Things were what they were, and he always took them in stride. Should he have insisted harder to get Cottontail to pay him one last visit before he had to go on this stupid tour? They could have spent the night together. It would have been a great farewell, a sweet 'until we meet again' sort of thing.
Whenever he left, it was bitter, not sweet. Jamie shook his head. Tonight, he was going down all sorts of rabbit holes. It wasn't like him to dwell on things that couldn't be changed. And the die was cast, anyway. He'd go on the tour, make a name for himself, and then he'd return a victor. Cottontail would throw his mask in the air to show his enthusiasm.
Yes, that was one nice dream.
"So sorry to have kept you waiting, Jamie," Arthur's voice pulled him out of his fantasies.
Jamie stood to greet Arthur, who pulled him into an unconventional hug and patted him on the back. No, not quite on the back, a tad lower, but it only lasted a moment, so it must have been his imagination and nothing else.
"I had no idea you were going to invite me to this sort of high-brow establishment," Jamie said. "I really feel underdressed."
Arthur gave him an appreciative look, his eyes resting on Jamie's arms for a bit too long, making him feel like pulling down the cuffs of his most-formal shirt. The thing was also a bit too tight across the chest since Jamie had put on some muscles since he had last worn it.
It was weird to think that Arthur was undressing him or playing a guessing game about what lay beneath the conservative cut of his shirt. No, he had to be imagining things because Arthur wasn't interested in him in that way. Or ever since he had gotten involved with Cottontail, Jamie's sense of the way men showed interest in him had dulled a smidge.
Anything was possible. The best way to find out was to start asking questions.
"Why did you invite me here? It's a bit above my pay-grade," he joked.
"That's not true," Arthur protested right away. "You will have to get used to the good life, Jamie. It's what you deserve seeing how much hard work you're putting into your current endeavors."
A waiter materialized by their side, although Jamie couldn't say he had noticed Arthur signaling to the staff that they needed menus or wanted to order.
While Arthur consulted the menu with practiced ease and the confidence only a lot of money could give, Jamie stared gloomily at his.
"Whatever you're having," was the only answer he could think of on the spot.
After the mess of a conversation he'd had with Cottontail, his cage had gotten a bit too rattled. Being his usual charming self seemed to be a challenge tonight.
"You are leaving for three months," Arthur said. "I wanted to celebrate with you tonight, Jamie."
"Thanks a lot. I frankly thought you must have forgotten I existed by now. I suppose you've been busy with work."
"Forget you?" Arthur quirked an eyebrow and gave Jamie a wide smile.
Everything about Arthur was perfect. He definitely had a lot of manscaping done, but in the restaurant's pleasant lighting, his handsome face seemed a shade too fake. Jamie wondered briefly if the guy was doing Botox, too. It wasn't out of the ordinary, he mused, and it wasn't his business. To pull his thoughts away from whether Arthur was using celebrity methods to keep young and beautiful, he stared at his plate. He had no idea what was on it. It had to be food, but it had been arranged like a piece destined to be exhibited in a museum.
And he didn't feel hungry anyway. Today, he had thought of his past for a bit too long to be healthy, and now he was out of sorts.
"Jamie, you are on the right road to become a household name."
That had the effect of interrupting his unwanted thoughts.
"Am I going to be signing with your label?" he asked playfully. He knew that he had a long way to go before he could be considered for that sort of arrangement. He needed to find himself a band and work hard for at least a few more years—
"Everything is possible for you, Jamie." Arthur reached over the table and placed his hand over Jamie's. He held it there for two beats longer than was socially acceptable.
Jamie knew what socially acceptable meant; he lived by it. So, that begged the question: what did Arthur truly want from him?
TBC