Page 1 of Heartbreak Honey

Now

SKYLER JAMES IS GOING ON in two minutes and he’s got the jitters, pacing backstage like a hamster trapped in a cage. He’s performed for millions of people across the world, but somehow there’s still this moment, every time right before he steps onstage, where he’s absolutely terrified. Like he’s going to go out there and mess it all up. He’ll open his mouth to sing but nothing will come out, and that’ll be the end.

He used to have a trick for calming down and quieting his mind before a show. Someone’s hand pressed firmly to the nape of his neck. Worked like a charm.

But not just any someone’s.

And even though it’s been years, he still craves that magic touch.

He’s learned to live without it though. As soon as he gets through the first line of the first song, he’s always good. All the anxiety disappears, and it becomes about adrenaline, energy, ecstasy.

Especially now that he can be fully himself. Well. Almost. He no longer has to conform, cram himself into a cookie cutter mold that was set for him. One of five boys, all pawns for the executives to move around the board as they saw fit. All puppets on strings.

These days, he couldn’t be happier he cut those strings. Even if he didn’t mean to.

And there were, of course, consequences.

There will be consequences after tonight, too. But he doesn’t care. It’s time to do it.

He’s finally gotten big enough that he can do pretty much whatever the hell he wants. If his label is dumb enough to drop him, every other label will jump at the chance to pick him up.

At least. He thinks.

His fans aren’t only former Boys Will Be Boys fans. His fan base has grown and grown, far larger than he ever could have dreamed. But the fame and the money, he’d give it all back, trade it all in, to have him back.

And that’s a secret he’ll probably take to his grave.

He’s wanted to do what he’s about to do tonight for a long time. It’s what he wishes he and Trevor could have done in the first place.

If only.

Then again, he’s built his solo career out of his heartache. So if they had done it back then, who knows if he’d have everything he has now? But like he said, he’d give it all back if he could still have Trevor Blue.

But no one gets to have everything they want in life, do they?

In the final seconds before Skyler goes on, he’s still thinking about Trevor. Then the intro music starts, and the stage tech signals him for his cue. Just like that, he turns off his pain and turns on Skyler James.

He slips in his in-ears and strides confidently onto the stage of the outdoor arena, smile in place and hair hanging loose over his shoulders. Over the roaring crowd, he shouts, “How you doin’, Los Angeles?”

And for the next two hours, he gets to do what he does best.

But later, as the show is coming to a close, his nerves return. He saved “Heartbreak Honey” for the final song, on this last night of the world tour. His first single. The one everybody knows. But nobody’s ever heard it like they’re about to hear it tonight.

He’s tired of living a lie.

“All right,” he says, wrapping the microphone cord once around his wrist to anchor himself, “you guys have been amazing. I’m going to leave you with a very special song called ‘Heartbreak Honey.’” Predictably, the crowd cheers, and he flashes them his most charming smile, despite the hundred different emotions warring inside him. “I know you know the words, so feel free to sing along. But I want you to pay special attention tonight.”

As he croons out the first line, “How you doin’ with this heartbreak, honey,” the crowd is dead silent. It’s almost eerie. And they remain silent through the first verse, doing what he asked, listening hard. But soon they can’t help themselves and start singing in unison with him. Until the point toward the end where they catch on and fall silent again.

He’s changing the words. Only slightly, but he knew they’d catch it. That they’d understand. Even though it isn’t much—a few you’s to he’s—it feels like a revelation. Because it is.

He used to do this occasionally back in the Boys Will Be Boys days. Partly to cater to the fans who suspected about him and Trevor, and partly to piss off their management whenever he was feeling particularly rebellious. But he’d never drawn attention to what he was doing back then, whereas this time he’s asked for the attention of an entire arena.

It’s so cathartic singing, “I miss his lips/Miss his laugh.” And when he finishes the last notes of the song, the screaming of the crowd is deafening.

They’re going wild. And they aren’t simply cheering and whooping. They’re yelling affirmations to him. He hears, “We love you, Skyler!” and, “We support you!” And loudest of all—or maybe it’s just what sticks out to him the most—they’re chanting, “Blue Skies, Blue Skies, Blue Skies!”

The fans’ ship name for him and Trevor has always been something he’s supposed to ignore or talk his way around, but he’s not worried about it right now.

He notices a girl up front, pressed right against the metal barricade, a rainbow boa wrapped around her shoulders. She’s full-on sobbing. He moves closer to the edge of the stage and squats down in front of her, mouthing, “Are you okay?”

She composes herself enough to nod her head, then yells out, “Finally!”

He gives her a nod in return and a little wink. Standing back up and looking out over the crowd again, he can’t contain his grin. Because he agrees. Finally. He’s done it.

He’s essentially just outed himself.

He may not have said it in so many words, but he’s prepared to do that when the big question inevitably comes.

And it’s going to be okay.

He’s Skyler fucking James. He’s a goddamn musical icon.

And no, he’s not an egomaniac, so he doesn’t really think of himself like that. But like. He is.

His fame and success have afforded him a whole lot of things in life, like three houses in two different countries. But maybe the most important thing it can afford him now is some real freedom.

Finally.