Page 21 of Heartbreak Honey

Now

The fire’s still burning, and Skyler’s still trying. Trying to keep Trevor occupied, trying to keep his mind off it. Hoping Trevor doesn’t begrudge the fact that Skyler’s essentially taken him hostage here in New York when everything Trevor cares about is on the other side of the country.

And he keeps asking himself one thing. Is he honestly doing this to keep Trevor safe? Or is he doing it to keep Trevor with him?

Is he still too needy and selfish?

He’s trying not to be. He’s trying to be whatever Trevor needs. Trying, trying, trying.

Right now he’s trying to concentrate on holding this downward dog. Somehow he managed to convince Trevor to give yoga a try with him, desperate to provide Trevor with a distraction from the phone he’s been checking for updates since the moment they woke up this morning. But while it may be a good distraction for Trevor, watching Trevor move through the flow is proving to be quite the distraction for him.

With Trevor’s body right here beside him, stretching out, Skyler wants him so badly it’s like a spark shooting down his spine. He wants so much. Not just to touch—although that impulse is strongest of all at the moment—but also, he wants infinite more mornings like this, simply being together.

But he needs to keep himself in check because he can’t risk scaring Trevor away. Having him here, even if it’s not in every way that he wants, is so much better than nothing. Better than the five years of walking around feeling like part of his soul was missing.

And if this is all he gets to have—to see Trevor but not to touch him, really touch him—it’ll have to be enough. He’ll find a way for it to be enough.

“This is awful. How did you make it look so easy?” Trevor complains loudly.

He bites back a laugh. “It’s okay if you can’t get your legs totally straight, or if your heels don’t touch the mat. Focus on getting the proper alignment.”

“Well, is this the proper alignment, or what? How do I know if I’m doing it right?”

Skyler glances over, but it’s hard to see what Trevor’s doing from Skyler’s practically upside-down vantage point, so he stands and goes over to him. Using all his self-control to ignore Trevor’s ass in the air, he places a hand on his upper back and presses down gently between his shoulder blades. Trevor lets out a noise of surprise and almost falls out of the pose entirely, but Skyler grabs on to his hip with his other hand to steady him. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Trevor says. “I told you I’m not made for this stuff.”

“I disagree.”

“You can disagree all you want, but my lack of flexibility proves otherwise, and my hamstrings are starting to hurt.”

Skyler realizes he’s still got both hands on him and immediately removes them. “Sorry,” he mumbles again as Trevor stands. “But you don’t have to be flexible to do yoga. And if you practice it enough, you’ll become more flexible.”

“If I remember, you’ve always been pretty flexible,” Trevor tells him.

“Imagine how much more flexible I am now.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he hears how they might sound. And Trevor is very possibly thinking the same thing, because he stares at him a few beats, unblinking, his mouth forming a tiny O, like he was about to say something but forgot it.

That spark of wanting shoots down Skyler”s spine again, but he reminds himself he can’t have what he wants. Except…

Trevor’s eyes drift down his body, and when they move back up, they appear to settle somewhere around his mouth. Skyler sneaks his tongue out to wet his lips, and he hears the hitch in Trevor’s breath.

His feet take a step closer of their own accord.

There’s barely any space left between them now.

The warning bells in his brain clash with the erratic drumbeats of his heart.

Then Trevor steps back and shakes his head, almost to himself. As if Skyler isn’t even there. He doesn’t speak.

The tension in the room is so thick that Stella must pick up on it. She lets out a bark, startling them both, and when they turn to her, it’s evident they’re going to pretend whatever the heck that was didn’t happen.

“I should take her out,” Trevor says. “And I’m hungry, I could grab us some food.”

He nods. “Sounds good. Do you want me to send Mike with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I can blend.”

“Okay. Extra penthouse key is on the counter. Show it to the door guy and he’ll let you back in the building.”

“Thanks. I’ll just, um, get changed.”

“Okay.”

Skyler squats down to roll up their mats, but as soon as he hears the elevator doors close on Trevor and Stella, he lets himself sink all the way to the floor. He can’t push Trevor for something he doesn’t want. But they’ve been walking such a fine line here, and he’s clumsy. Eventually, he’s bound to trip and accidentally land on the other side of it.

And he can’t be the only one thinking about this. Can he?

Shit.This isn’t good for his sanity.

But even with the chaos of emotions that Trevor being back in his life has swirled up, his body feels calmly settled in a way it hasn’t in years. He wants to hold on to the feeling as long as possible—preferably forever.

Trying to hold on to Trevor too tightly was where he went wrong in the past, though. Maybe this time he could try to hold him loosely? Keep him close but never make him feel trapped.

Everything was much less complicated when they were younger, when they fell in love the first time. At least in the beginning. But maybe all first loves are like that. When you’re too green to know how hard things can get.

The difference this time is that Skyler’s ready to handle the hard parts.

As he stores the mats away, he begins humming a melody. Then some words come to him, so he grabs his guitar and a notebook and sits on the couch. The fact that Trevor’s been his only source of inspiration lately should probably worry him, but he’s just relieved to be writing. And besides, Trevor’s been his main inspiration for most of his career, hasn’t he? It’s worked out pretty damn well for him so far. Musically, that is.

He sings what he’s got down, the words traveling all the way into his fingertips as he plays.

This wasn’t what I expected

Didn’t know how much I’d need it

Long ago, I gave up hoping

That you’d come back to me

And now I’m gonna hold this

With a loose grip

So you can go if you need to be free

Not gonna ask for

Too much

I’ll take whatever you can give to me

‘Cause no matter how rough it gets

There’s nowhere else I’d rather be

Than right here wading through

The unsteady waters of me and you

He’s stuck on the next verse, but it doesn’t matter because the elevator dings, announcing Trevor and Stella’s arrival in time for him to close the notebook and attempt to look nonchalant.

Stella bounds over to him, and he has to hold the guitar out of the way as she butts her head into his lap to greet him.

“Are you writing something?” Trevor asks.

Skyler cranes his neck to watch him over the back of the couch as he sets a takeout bag on the counter. “Uh. Yeah. I guess.”

“Can I hear it?”

Shit.

He must be silent for too long, because then Trevor shrugs and says, “Or not. It’s fine.”

And shit, again. He doesn’t want Trevor to feel like he’s shutting him out. Doesn’t want him to think he’s not willing to share with him. They used to write songs together for the band all the time. He trusts Trevor with his creative process.

But there’s no way he can let him hear this song.

Although now that he’s thinking about it, what does he expect will happen after he puts the song on the album? Or any of the songs he’s written about Trevor since they reunited? Yeah, he’s released songs about his heartbreak after losing Trevor. But this is different.

This is him wanting something that Trevor might not. And after Trevor hears these songs—after Skyler puts them out there for the whole world to hear—will it freak Trevor out? Will he be mad?

“I got burritos,” Trevor says. “Hope you’re good with that. I should’ve called to ask.”

“No. Yes. Burritos are fine.” He stands, holding his guitar carefully by the neck. “And sorry. It’s not that I don’t want you to hear. Maybe next time, okay? When I have something that’s more ready.”

“Sure, I get it.”

Trevor probably doesn’t get it at all—doesn’t get that it’s about him— but Skyler nods and puts his guitar away.

They eat at the breakfast bar, and he tries for small talk, but Trevor’s shoving his burrito in his face with one hand and frowning down at his phone in the other. Still compulsively checking for updates. And while Skyler understands, he doesn’t want him to stress prematurely.

“After we eat, you want to play Scrab—”

“Fuck!” Trevor yells, cutting him off and dropping his burrito onto the foil wrapper. A piece of chicken falls out and rolls off the edge of the counter and onto the floor, where Stella immediately snatches it up.

“What’s wrong?”

“They issued an evacuation order for Malibu.”

“Oh, damn.” That’s not good. For the first time, Skyler really worries about his own home. But only for a second, before he’s back to worrying about Trevor, who has quickly turned pale. “Okay, just breathe.”

“I am breathing!” Trevor snaps.

He curls his fingers over Trevor’s wrist bone. Trevor’s eyes dart down to the point of contact and then up at him. “I’m not sure you are.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

Trevor doesn’t finish that sentence, so Skyler makes a shushing sound, letting him know he doesn”t need to. “I know,” he says. “I know. But there’s still nothing more about Santa Monica, is there?”

Trevor frowns and shakes his head.

“So let’s try not to panic.”

When Trevor looks at him now, his eyes are curious and his color has started to come back. “How can you say that? Aren’t you worried about your own house?”

“Of course I am,” Skyler tells him. “But right now, I’m more worried about you.”

“You don’t need to baby me. I know I’m acting crazy about this shit, but it’s my shit. You don’t have to deal with it.”

“Hey.” He tightens his hold on Trevor’s wrist. “You’re not acting crazy, and your shit is my shit. So I am worried, and you’ll just have to deal with that.”

Trevor huffs out an unamused laugh, and Skyler wonders if that was too much, saying it like that. But it’s true. Whatever affects Trevor affects him. It’s always been that way since they got together, and it’s stupid pretending that’s changed.

“Well,” Trevor says finally. As if it’s a complete thought.

“Do you think you can put down your phone long enough to finish eating?” Skyler asks him gently. “Then maybe we could play a game of Scrabble? You can keep your phone close by, but the way you’ve been staring at it so hard, I’m afraid it might melt.”

Trevor nods, ignoring his lame attempt at a joke. And then he says, “So you’re trying to distract me by forcing me to focus all my brainpower on beating you?”

He risks a small smile. “Yes, exactly.”

“Fine, let’s do it.”

Skyler lets go of his wrist so they can eat. There isn’t much enthusiasm in Trevor’s words, but he no longer looks like he might pass out, so Skyler’s satisfied for now.

And he just prays the news doesn’t get worse.

Skyler didn’t want to leave Trevor alone, but when Mike asked if they wanted to watch a game with him, Trevor insisted Skyler go without him, claiming he had a headache. Skyler recognized the excuse for what it was—Trevor needing some space—so he reluctantly agreed.

But he wishes he didn’t. Because when he returns, he finds Trevor lying on the couch, curled up in the fetal position with his face smushed into a throw pillow, Stella resting her snout on his leg.

Immediately, he goes into panic mode, rushing to Trevor’s side. He dislodges Stella to make room for himself and curls his hand around Trevor’s hip. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Trevor doesn’t lift his face from the pillow, so when he says, “They gave an official warning for Santa Monica,” it takes Skyler a moment to decipher his words.

And then he thinks if he wasn’t already sitting, he might have collapsed. Because no. This can’t be happening. Not to Trevor. No.

“No,” he says stupidly.

Trevor turns his head now, doesn’t lift it from the pillow, but rests his cheek on it so he can look at Skyler with watery eyes. “Yeah.”

“Where exactly is the fire now?” he asks, trying to get himself together so he can help keep Trevor together.

“It hasn’t hit Malibu yet, but it’s going to. They can’t stop it. And then…”

“Okay, let’s just… Um.” What the hell is Skyler supposed to do? He can’t stop a fucking wildfire. “Can you sit up? Please? We’ll see if we can find some live coverage on TV. So you’re not waiting for updates.”

He’s not sure if watching it live is better or worse, actually, but he can’t stand to see Trevor lying here like this, looking so small and broken, and it’s the only thing he can think to do.

Trevor contemplates a minute, long enough that Skyler thinks he’s going to ignore him, but then he slowly pushes himself up. His face is blotchy and his hair’s a mess, and Skyler doesn’t hesitate before putting an arm around him and pulling Trevor’s head into his chest.

“It’s okay,” he whispers into Trevor’s hair. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

It doesn’t take long to find a station that’s covering the fire, and then they sit there beside each other and watch. Trevor’s right. According to the reporter, the fire is almost guaranteed to hit Malibu. And soon.

Skyler stares at the map and imagines where his house is in relation to the fire’s projected path. His worry grows, but it’s mixed with guilt as he sees coverage of all the people rushing to get out while there’s still time. Not everyone can hop on a private jet. And he can afford to replace his house and whatever’s in it, minus the sentimental stuff. Most people can’t do that.

He keeps stealing glances at Trevor’s face, which is stoic as he watches. But there’s a slight tremor in his hand where it’s resting on the cushion between his and Skyler’s thighs. Skyler takes it, placing their hands over his own leg, and Trevor says nothing, but he doesn’t pull away. He hasn’t said anything in a while.

Even though Trevor likely faked the headache earlier, he probably does have one now, so Skyler asks him, “Want me to get you some Tylenol?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Trevor doesn’t look at him, keeps his eyes trained firmly on the TV screen, when he says, “I don’t want you to leave.”

So he doesn’t. He stays right where he is. Right where he belongs.

His hand eventually starts to feel clammy, but he doesn’t let go of Trevor’s. And when Trevor’s head lands softly on his shoulder, Skyler doesn’t move a muscle, afraid to disturb him. If all he can do is physically be here for Trevor, then this is what he’ll do.

It’s an hour later when the reporter announces the fire appears to be changing course slightly. He thought Trevor might have fallen asleep on him, but at this news, Trevor gasps and sits back up. He looks at Skyler hopefully, but Skyler doesn’t know what to say, because these things are hard to predict correctly.

Instead of words, he untangles his fingers from Trevor’s, flexing them to get the blood flowing again, and then brings his hand up to Trevor’s face. He rubs his thumb along his temple and down to brush over the hair above his ear, wanting the gesture to convey he’s hopeful too. And that he’s here, no matter what happens.

When they watch in real time as the fire reaches the tip of Malibu and then abruptly veers to the left, toward the water, Skyler holds his breath and Trevor mutters, “Oh god, please.”

And then, in what might have taken fifteen minutes or an eternity, it’s over. The fire puts itself out in the ocean. There’s damage, but it didn’t make it down far enough to hit Skyler’s house, didn’t go anywhere near Santa Monica, and this is so much better than it could have been.

The relief hits like a wave crashing over him, and he turns to Trevor to say something, laugh, cheer, anything. But Trevor’s crying. As soon as Trevor’s eyes meet his, Trevor practically throws himself at him. He hugs him so tightly Skyler finds it hard to breathe again, but he doesn’t care.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Skyler gets out. “I’ve got you, babe. Everything’s okay.”

It’s over.

They’re okay.

Trevor’s arms slacken and he pulls back, but not far. And as he starts to lean in again, slower this time, the whole world tilts on its axis. The next thing Skyler knows, Trevor is kissing him. It’s the softest, most tentative press of lips against his, but it’s enough. It’s everything.

In that moment, the world rights itself.

Skyler feels like he’s finally coming home.