Page 83 of Hamartia

“Mason,” I call after him.

When he turns he looks so fucking lost, like a kid who can’t find his parents at the mall.

“We good?”

He nods, running a hand over his hair. “Course we are. Always, man.”

But he looks vacant and rudderless.

When we break again, I send Camille a text asking if we can talk later. I don’t want to do this on the phone but I can’t avoid it much longer, not now I know. Not now the word love has entered my head in relation to someone who isn’t her.

It’s twelve hours later when I get a response. She finishes shooting on the 18thand she’ll be back in LA on the 19th. Her flight out to Lyon, to her parents place, is the 23rd.We will talk then, she says. I don’t feel I have the right to push this, so I don’t. I respond back with three words.Ok.And,I’m sorry.

If she didn’t already know, I feel like she does now.

It feels over in every way except in words and I’m sorry for it. I really fucking am. But there’s a small sliver of relief there too. Because the last two and a half years I’ve spent inside my head with these weird unnamed feelings for another person has felt like living two lives. Not knowing what it meant, what it was, whoIwas. It’s been like having this weight settled on my chest which is gradually getting lighter.

The next few weeks I practically live at the studio. Calling or texting Jaehyun whenever I get a few moments alone. If the band notices, they don’t say anything. But I’m certain I’ve seen a few suspicious looks from Mase whenever I’ve come back from speaking to him.

It’s one night about three weeks out from NY when I get a notification of a message. A picture. I’m high and a little buzzed from tequila when I open it. It’s a mirror selfie. Full length. He’s naked. Fully fucking naked.

I almost choke on my drink as I swipe out of the picture and glance around me to make sure there’s no chance anyone saw it. There’s not, but Mase is across the couch from me, slouched low as he strums away at his Telecaster. The others are busy and not looking in my direction. I stand up and wander from the room out into the hallway until I find a corner and then open the picture again.

His fingers are splayed across his abdomen, close to where his piercings are, and his cock is flushed and half hard. Mine is too just looking at it.

He’s sent the image with the message:I am silver.

That’s when I finally notice his hair. With the sunlight hitting it from a window near him it looks bright, polished silver. Glowing. I type back.

Me: You’re also naked.

The reply is immediate.

JH: Oh, yes. That too. ,)

I hit the number to dial, knowing that he’s likely able to talk if he’s sending me nudes. He answers after a couple of rings, his soft laugh floating down the phone.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to distract you from your work,” he says without any conviction.

“Well, that’s a lie. How was I not supposed to get distracted by that?”

“I thought maybe you would see it later. Before you went to sleep.”

“I haven’t slept in two days,” I say. Which makes it even more miraculous that I’m able to get even half hard right now.

Jae tuts. “Sleep is important, Raphael. I do not want you to be tired when you get to Tokyo. That would be bad…”

“Yeah? How come?” I’m grinning now.

“Because I have lots of plans for us and I need you to be awake for them.”

“What sorts of plans?”

“I do not want to distract you from your work by telling you. Plus, some of them are a surprise.”

“I do like surprises.” I sigh. “And I like your hair.”

He laughs. “You do?”