When we gamble with the world - part 3
Title: When we gamble with the world
Rating: R
Fandom: Take That
Pairing: Robbie/Gary
Genre: romance, angst
Summary: Rob has always thought of the two of them like magnets. When everything is the wrong way round, nothing is going to keep them together. When things are good, though, they just attract, drawing the other in without even trying.
Word count: 14370
Rob reckons it’s about time they talked properly. The tour’s finally winding down and it will be something of a relief, Rob thinks, to have a break, to be just Rob and Gaz and see where that takes them without having to worry about being on form on stage or what the others might think.
And it scares him, really, the idea of putting himself out there, getting everything he feels out in the open, but he doesn’t think he has much of a choice, if he wants this to last.
Which he does. Desperately. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be truly happy, but he’s learning again.
He sets out to find the right moment to bring it up, but of course there’s not really such a thing as a perfect moment: there’s not enough time, or Gaz is off somewhere with Dan (and Rob would never begrudge him that) or they’re both so bloody exhausted from a show that they don’t have the energy for a serious conversation.
Which are all just excuses, really, because it’s fear that keeps him silent, that fear of rejection he’ll probably never outgrow, the spectre of old scars hanging over his head. He’d be putting all his chips on one hand, as it were, and even though he’s always been a gambling man, there’s always that moment of pure, unadulterated terror before going all in, especially when he’s going all in with his heart.
* * *
Gary is looking for an escape route. Jason knows what that looks like; his whole life since the nineties has been about never feeling trapped or confined again, because he got enough of that to last him a lifetime.
But Gary isn’t as familiar with escape routes as Jason is, he doesn’t know how to do it so neatly no one even notices you’ve slipped away until you’re long gone. Instead he’s edgy and anxious, and it’s a clear giveaway to anybody who knows what to look for.
It’s going to be an utter mess, Jason can see that much already, and probably not the kind that can be cleaned up easily, if at all. It was bad enough mending fences a few years ago; he’s not sure Rob or Gaz have it in them to reconcile a second time, especially once Gary breaks Rob’s heart.
Because he will, there’s no avoiding it. Rob wears his heart out on his sleeve, hiding it in plain sight, and it’s so obvious this is going to pull the rug right out from under him, and it will push him away again, just when they’ve all gotten attached to having him back around. They’re friends now, him and Rob, and he would’ve been lying if he’d said that in the nineties.
They’re in Hamburg when they end up in the same car to go back to the hotel. There’s always someone about on a tour, security or crew or dancers or their band, so it’s the first time they’ve been alone (well, them and the driver) in ages.
“I know about you and Gary,” Jason says. He’s tired of pretending he doesn’t.
“Yeah, Gaz reckoned you did. What about Markie and How?”
Jason shrugs. It’s not as if any of them have discussed it, but he’d be shocked if they didn’t know. “Neither of them has said.”
“Does it bother you?” Rob asks. Jason doubts Rob really wants to know the answer, but he’s not in the habit of lying to people.
“No. It worries me though, mate.”
“You don’t have to worry, Jay.”
Someone has to, Jason thinks, but instead he says, “It could go pretty badly wrong.”
“It won’t.” Rob says, with the sort of certainty that makes Jason worry even more.
“You love him.” Jason guesses.
“Yeah.” Rob nods. “I do.”
Jason wants to warn him, because Rob is going to be absolutely gutted when Gaz decides he wants to go back to the status quo, but being the spokesperson once for someone else to destroy Rob is more than enough for Jason. Maybe it’s cowardly, but he doesn’t think he could stand to see Rob hurt that much again.
Besides, there’s still a week left. Gaz might decide not to run after all.
* * *
Gary watches Dan’s chest rise and fall slowly as he sleeps. He used to do this all the time when Dan was a baby, hover by his cot and watch his tiny chest move, simultaneously reassuring himself that his son was still breathing and marvelling at the tiny person he and Dawn had created.
Alone for once, he considers what it would be like to be with Rob for real. Tours are completely suspended reality, and just because he and Rob have shagged in hotel rooms across Europe and the UK doesn't mean they’re fit to survive anywhere else. They wouldn't be able to keep the secret. They’d get papped, or someone would leak the news to the press and it would be utter madness. Even more chaos than when he got divorced, and he can just picture the headlines, full of terrible puns and crude allusions. It would be the kind of attention that could kill their careers (or maybe just Gary’s, since Rob’s built up a reputation for the scandalous) and Gary’s been there before. He doesn’t ever want to be there again.
But the thing that scares Gary most in the world is losing Dan. The divorce was bad enough, ripping their family apart, splashed all over the papers, nearly destroying their relationship. Dad’s dating a man is even more extreme than Mum and Dad getting a divorce. Dan’s just getting to the age when kids at school will be cruellest, when he cares most about what people think, when he’s going to start pulling away from Gary and Dawn because that’s what teenagers do, and Gary would never forgive himself if he made these next few years harder on Dan than they’re already going to be.
In a perfect world, he wouldn’t have to choose between being a good dad and being with Rob. But he doesn’t live in a perfect world and he’s afraid of taking such a big risk, knowing how much he stands to lose.
* * *
“I can’t do this.” Gary says, and it makes Rob's breath catch in his chest.
“We already are doing this.” He protests. It’s the last day of the tour and they’ve made it this far already.
“I can’t do this anymore, then.”
“Why not?”
“We’re risking everything. It’s too much.”
It hits him like a punch to the gut. He’s so fucking used to this, to being told he’s not worth taking a risk on. It shouldn’t surprise him but it does. And it always does. After twenty-odd years you’d think he’d learn but he hasn’t.
“You’re a coward.” He snaps.
“You don’t get it. All of this could disappear in the blink of an eye. You’ve never been there, you can’t possibly understand that.”
“Bullshit. You’re scared of this, of us, not your bloody career drying up. At least have the balls to admit that.”
Gary flinches, and it’s slightly satisfying to watch.
“It’s going to go to shit anyway, so I think it’s just better if we stop now.”
“Jesus, Gaz, where is this even coming from? Who says it’s gonna go to shit?”
“It always does, with you and me.”
“Once isn’t always.”
“Well, maybe I learned my lesson back then.”
Gary knows how to hit him where it hurts, Rob has to admit.
“That’s not going to happen again.” Rob insists. “I love you too much.”
He hates that this is the first time he’s said it properly, hates that it comes out sounding pathetic and pleading.
“What if that’s not enough?” Gary says, his voice small and quiet and for a second Rob understands. His relationship with Dawn fell apart right in front of him, and he couldn’t hold it together no matter how hard he tried. But it’s different when it’s happening to him, to them, and as much as he understands where Gaz is coming from, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to forgive him for this. For giving up.
“Then I guess we’re all fucking liars, aren’t we?” Rob frowns. “You especially, with your epic love songs.”
He doesn’t mean for it to sound as nasty as it does and Gary winces. Rob sighs and runs a hand over his face.
“It’s not like I can force you,” he says, as evenly as he can manage when it feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath him. “If you don’t want to be with me, there’s nothing I can do about that.”
“I can’t.” Gary says, staring resolutely at a spot on the carpet.
“Guess I’m going then.” Rob says, and he’s never wanted to stay put more in his entire life. He hesitates, waiting for Gary to come to his senses, change his mind, blurt out an apology that will be a little bit awkward but mostly endearing and Rob will be angry for a bit but eventually they’ll talk properly and get everything back on track.
Only that doesn’t happen. Gary just stares silently at the carpeted floor, so Rob gathers his things, resisting the urge to stomp around like a petulant child, knowing it won’t exactly help matters. He slams the hotel room door, though, ignoring the confused looks from the two maids in the corridor.
It takes him three tries to slide his key card into his own hotel room door, his hands are shaking so badly. He can’t quite believe this is happening, that they’ve reached breaking point again and it kills him to think about leaving the lads, going back to L.A. and his solo career because there’s no way to get past this. It’s a sad, twisted parody of the way things were twenty years ago. He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he’s got no other choice. He didn’t think he could ever feel worse than he had then, at that moment, when he walked out of that rehearsal room and didn’t go back, but obviously he was wrong. Because this is like having his heart torn out of his chest and then having someone gleefully pour salt into the open wound.
* * *
Gary loses track of time sitting on the hotel bed, staring down at his hands. He’d gotten it all wrong, of course. He hadn’t meant to ruin everything all at once, but he sees now it couldn’t have gone any other way.
There was too much at stake for him, the gamble too big, and maybe it makes him a coward, but he can’t find a better solution.
And he wanted to feel better but instead he feels worse.
* * *
His house is silent and empty when the taxi drops Rob off. It has the stale smell of several weeks of emptiness, despite the cleaners having come yesterday. The last thing he really wants is to be alone, but he’s hardly fit for company right now either. He drops his bags inside the door, not particularly worried about unpacking right now. The fridge is stocked with food but he’s not hungry, just miserable, so he shuts it again and trudges up the stairs to his bedroom.
Before he falls asleep, he wonders if he should’ve seen it coming, should’ve realized Gary was going to cut his losses and run.
* * *
His life is quiet without Rob. Which is fine, because Gary likes quiet. For once the paps seem to be leaving him alone, which absolutely wouldn’t be the case if he were still with Rob. He likes being a bit more anonymous, so he turns down the offer to fill Simon Cowell’s judging seat on The X Factor. He sees Dan nearly every weekend and he caves to Dan’s pleading for a dog and he undertakes the project of updating the studio on his top floor, as some of the equipment’s got a bit out-dated now.
He doesn’t write. He tries, but instead he just stares down at the piano and wonders what happened to the melodies and the lyrics that used to come as easily as breathing.
Howard sends him an email nearly every other day, and while they’re all cheerful and full of Howard’s wry humour, Gary knows they’re all saying the same thing: I’m worried about you, mate.
Gary wants to tell him he’s fine and not to worry, but he’s not sure it would be the truth. He hurt Rob, he fractured the band, and there’s no one to point fingers at this time except himself. His reasoning sounds so flimsy now, and he knows it all really boils down to the same thing: he was scared to admit what he really wanted, scared of what it would mean if he chose Rob over everything else, scared of risking too much.
It means he is a coward, and that’s just something he’s going to have to learn to live with.
* * *
Rob is angry, more than anything. Angry with himself, with Gary, with the world. In the old days, he would’ve drowned his anger in booze and numbed his hurt with drugs, but he doesn’t have that option anymore, so he writes. Song after song that will never actually see the light of day, angry songs and sad songs and slightly hysterical songs. None of them are particularly good songs, but it’s cathartic getting everything down on paper, and at least it keeps him from snorting or drinking his feelings.
He wishes he could hate Gary. Instead, he still loves him and he doesn't know if he can stop.
And maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe he needs the reminder of what it feels like to be hurt so badly. It will make him more cautious; force him to grow out of that last bit of recklessness he’s been stubbornly clinging to for so long.
Then again, he’s lost so many pieces of himself over the past twenty years, he’s not sure he wants to surrender this one.
Mark rings him a lot. He never asks what happened, and Rob’s got no intention of telling him; never says are you still in the band which is a blessing since Rob’s got no idea what to say. Really he doesn’t want to talk about it at all, so he’s happy to spend long phone calls with Mark talking around it, never admitting that he’s pretty fucking destroyed. He doesn’t see the point of admitting it. Not to Mark, anyway.
He’s been a colossal idiot, and he hardly wants to broadcast it to anyone.
* * *
“Mum thought maybe you had a girlfriend.” Dan says over dinner. It’s the first weekend of his school holiday, and he’s staying with Gary through Christmas. It’ll be the first time they’re actually together on Christmas Day in a few years.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Gary asks, already wary of where this conversation is headed.
“She said you sounded happy. Like properly, not just because you’re busy.”
“I am happy.”
“Not anymore. You’re sad again, I can tell. So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Have a girlfriend.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“A boyfriend then?”
It startles Gary, how casually Dan says it, like it hardly makes a difference to him whether Gary dates women or men. It was something Gary had been so worried about, one of the reasons he pushed Rob away, and Dan just accepts it like it isn’t even news.
“Would that bother you?”
“If you were dating someone?”
“If I had a boyfriend.”
Dan shrugs. “Lots of people have gay parents. Like six kids at school, at least. Probably more that I don’t even know about.”
“I’m not asking about them. I’m asking about you.”
“Why would I care?” Dan frowns. “I liked when you were happy. If that’s cos you have a boyfriend, it’s okay with me.”
“Had.” Gary corrects. “I had a boyfriend.”
It feels strange, calling Rob that. If that’s what he’d been, they’d certainly never talked about it.
“You don’t anymore?”
“We split up.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
Dan huffs out an annoyed sigh. “Bet it’s not. Grown-ups just say that when they don’t want to talk about something.”
“No, it really was complicated.”
Dan levels Gary with a serious look that makes him look much older than eleven. “Why was it so complicated, then?” He asks, his tone a little exasperated, like he’s the parent and Gary’s an uncooperative child.
Gary sighs. He knows Dan isn’t going to drop it. His son can be rather determined when it suits him.
“We were a disaster waiting to happen, him and me.”
“How’d you know that?” Dan frowns. “You can’t tell the future.”
“No, but history does have a way of repeating itself.”
Gary gives too much away with that, he can tell from the way Dan’s eyes widen in surprise before he schools his expression into something more neutral. He doesn’t press Gary further, and he pushes his pasta around his plate absently with his fork, suddenly deep in thought. Gary can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he works it all out.
“Can we go to the cinema?” He asks, dropping the topic entirely.
“Sure,” Gary agrees.
Dan picks the new Sherlock Holmes film, which is entertaining and escapist enough to take both their minds off the Rob situation, and it’s not until later, when he’s tucking Dan into bed that Dan asks, quietly, “It’s Rob, isn’t it?”
For a second, Gary considers lying because it would be easier, but he knows better. Dan will see right through him. “Yes.”
Dan sits up and crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly looking very much like his mum. “You two shouldn't have broken up.”
“Dan-
“No, listen to me. Just because you think it was going to be a disaster doesn’t mean it would’ve. You were both really happy, I could tell. And you guys just gave up. I mean, isn’t it better to at least try first? That’s what you used to tell me about football and homework, anyway. And I know, you’re going to say it’s more complicated than that, but I don’t think it is. Either he made you happy or he didn’t, and if he did then you’re an idiot if you don’t try and fix it.”
Gary doesn’t think he’s ever been so fiercely told off by anyone, including his mum, and Dan starts to look a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.” Gary says. “You’re right.”
“I shouldn’t have called you an idiot.”
“No. Although it was effective. Really got your point across.”
“So will you fix it?”
“It’s not that easy, Danno.”
“Well, won’t you at least try then? I want you to be happy and you’re not.”
Dan’s right, of course. He’s not happy. Saying otherwise is just lying to himself.
“I’ll think about it.” He promises. “Go to sleep.”
“I love you, Dad.” Dan says, without any of his usual preteen reluctance.
Gary tucks the duvet tighter around his son and kisses his forehead. “I love you too.”
Downstairs, he pours himself a glass of wine and drinks it a bit too quickly. His misses Rob so much it hurts, and he really thought that was only an expression but he feels it in his chest, a deep ache that he rarely acknowledges but gets worse as time passes.
Before he can talk himself out of it again, he scoops his phone up off the table and dials Rob’s number from memory. The call connects, and then Rob’s phone rings and rings until he hears a click and then nothing. Not even a chance to ramble miserably into the answerphone.
On the off chance it was a mistake, Gary tries again. And then a third time, because they say the third time is always the charm.
Only it’s not.
* * *
Rob watches his phone ring, Gary’s name on the screen and for a second he almost picks up. It would be so easy to answer the phone and pretend he doesn’t care what happened and he isn’t hurt and that they can just pick up where they left off, no harm done.
But Rob can’t let himself do that. He loves Gary but he doesn’t trust him anymore, and that’s a deadly combination. So he lets the phone ring, and when he gets tired of the buzzing noise he hangs up. And a minute later it starts buzzing again, so he does the same. And then again a third time, and before they can start this whole go-round a fourth time, Rob just turns the phone off and walks away from it. Josie will probably be annoyed with him when she tries to get through and can’t, but she also knows better than to only rely on his mobile as a means of communication. He hates the bloody thing, hates feeling like he’s tethered to it and that he can never get away from the incessant ringing and texting and emailing that everyone else seems to feel the need to do constantly. He’s got enough going on inside his head without having to worry about staying up to date with everything everyone is doing all the time.
He has ten voicemails when he turns his phone on the next morning, five from Josie, which he deletes without even listening to, since she turned up at his house last night when he wasn’t answering. (He feels a bit guilty about that, she’s been worried about him and he doesn’t need to worry her more. Besides, he can’t let her get too fed up with him and quit because he’ll never find a better assistant.)
Two are just hang-ups and the other three are from Gaz. Rob doesn’t listen to them. He can’t. He knows what would happen. Just one word of encouragement from Gary and he’d be on a plane back to London, setting himself up for disaster. He trusts himself even less than he trusts Gary, and since neither of them has been very good at looking after his heart, he reckons he’s better off if he just stays away entirely.
As if on cue, his phone starts to buzz, but this time it’s Mark and Rob doesn’t hesitate to answer. It’s been a bit longer than usual since they last spoke, and Mark is the only person who doesn’t talk to Rob like he’s pitying him or worried about him or like he’s chosen sides.
“Didn’t wake you, did I?” Mark asks.
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“That means nowt with you. Used to sleep til afternoon, you did.”
“I keep to a normal schedule these days. Or try to, anyway.”
“How you doing?” Mark asks. “Keeping busy?”
“Between all my appearances and social engagements I’m just about run off me feet.”
“I’ll take that as a no then.” Mark laughs.
“Been writing,” Rob says. “But it’s all shite so it doesn’t matter anyway. How’re your Emma and the kids?”
“Brilliant,” Mark says and Rob can picture his bright smile. “Got some news, actually. Emma’s having a baby.”
“That is brilliant news.”
“We’ve only just found out, so keep it to yourself for a bit. We’re trying to keep it quiet as long as we can. Think we’ve had enough of the press in our lives this year.”
“I won’t say a word.” Rob promises. “Congratulations.”
“You all right?” Mark asks, and Rob guesses his enthusiasm sounds as forced as it feels.
He sighs. “Gets a bit lonely. Just me and the dogs rattling around this big house.”
“Just say if you want some company. I’m sure the kids would love a California holiday.”
“I’ll be fine, Markie. Just being a bit dramatic.”
Mark hesitates before saying, “We can talk about Gaz. We don’t have to, but we can.”
“Not much to say.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna do anything about it?”
“Nothing to do. He made his decision.”
“Doesn’t sound like the Rob I know.”
“What Rob is that? I don’t think I remember him.”
“The stubborn one who doesn’t give up when he wants something.”
“Oh that Rob. Well, his ego is bruised and his heart’s a bit broken and he’s got tired of being the one nobody wants for keeps.”
Mark sighs. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“There isn’t.”
“I know. You sure you don’t want me to bring Willow and Elwood over? They could drive anybody to distraction.”
“You make it sound so enticing, but no thanks. Give Emma my love and congratulations.”
“I will. Take care of yourself, mate. Call if you need anything.”
“All right,” Rob says, knowing he won’t. “Speak to you soon.”
He hangs up the phone feeling worse than before. He’s frustrated and jealous and annoyed and miserable and he really just wishes he could take a holiday from all of this, but knows it’s just going to follow him everywhere.
Part 4
Rating: R
Fandom: Take That
Pairing: Robbie/Gary
Genre: romance, angst
Summary: Rob has always thought of the two of them like magnets. When everything is the wrong way round, nothing is going to keep them together. When things are good, though, they just attract, drawing the other in without even trying.
Word count: 14370
Rob reckons it’s about time they talked properly. The tour’s finally winding down and it will be something of a relief, Rob thinks, to have a break, to be just Rob and Gaz and see where that takes them without having to worry about being on form on stage or what the others might think.
And it scares him, really, the idea of putting himself out there, getting everything he feels out in the open, but he doesn’t think he has much of a choice, if he wants this to last.
Which he does. Desperately. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be truly happy, but he’s learning again.
He sets out to find the right moment to bring it up, but of course there’s not really such a thing as a perfect moment: there’s not enough time, or Gaz is off somewhere with Dan (and Rob would never begrudge him that) or they’re both so bloody exhausted from a show that they don’t have the energy for a serious conversation.
Which are all just excuses, really, because it’s fear that keeps him silent, that fear of rejection he’ll probably never outgrow, the spectre of old scars hanging over his head. He’d be putting all his chips on one hand, as it were, and even though he’s always been a gambling man, there’s always that moment of pure, unadulterated terror before going all in, especially when he’s going all in with his heart.
* * *
Gary is looking for an escape route. Jason knows what that looks like; his whole life since the nineties has been about never feeling trapped or confined again, because he got enough of that to last him a lifetime.
But Gary isn’t as familiar with escape routes as Jason is, he doesn’t know how to do it so neatly no one even notices you’ve slipped away until you’re long gone. Instead he’s edgy and anxious, and it’s a clear giveaway to anybody who knows what to look for.
It’s going to be an utter mess, Jason can see that much already, and probably not the kind that can be cleaned up easily, if at all. It was bad enough mending fences a few years ago; he’s not sure Rob or Gaz have it in them to reconcile a second time, especially once Gary breaks Rob’s heart.
Because he will, there’s no avoiding it. Rob wears his heart out on his sleeve, hiding it in plain sight, and it’s so obvious this is going to pull the rug right out from under him, and it will push him away again, just when they’ve all gotten attached to having him back around. They’re friends now, him and Rob, and he would’ve been lying if he’d said that in the nineties.
They’re in Hamburg when they end up in the same car to go back to the hotel. There’s always someone about on a tour, security or crew or dancers or their band, so it’s the first time they’ve been alone (well, them and the driver) in ages.
“I know about you and Gary,” Jason says. He’s tired of pretending he doesn’t.
“Yeah, Gaz reckoned you did. What about Markie and How?”
Jason shrugs. It’s not as if any of them have discussed it, but he’d be shocked if they didn’t know. “Neither of them has said.”
“Does it bother you?” Rob asks. Jason doubts Rob really wants to know the answer, but he’s not in the habit of lying to people.
“No. It worries me though, mate.”
“You don’t have to worry, Jay.”
Someone has to, Jason thinks, but instead he says, “It could go pretty badly wrong.”
“It won’t.” Rob says, with the sort of certainty that makes Jason worry even more.
“You love him.” Jason guesses.
“Yeah.” Rob nods. “I do.”
Jason wants to warn him, because Rob is going to be absolutely gutted when Gaz decides he wants to go back to the status quo, but being the spokesperson once for someone else to destroy Rob is more than enough for Jason. Maybe it’s cowardly, but he doesn’t think he could stand to see Rob hurt that much again.
Besides, there’s still a week left. Gaz might decide not to run after all.
* * *
Gary watches Dan’s chest rise and fall slowly as he sleeps. He used to do this all the time when Dan was a baby, hover by his cot and watch his tiny chest move, simultaneously reassuring himself that his son was still breathing and marvelling at the tiny person he and Dawn had created.
Alone for once, he considers what it would be like to be with Rob for real. Tours are completely suspended reality, and just because he and Rob have shagged in hotel rooms across Europe and the UK doesn't mean they’re fit to survive anywhere else. They wouldn't be able to keep the secret. They’d get papped, or someone would leak the news to the press and it would be utter madness. Even more chaos than when he got divorced, and he can just picture the headlines, full of terrible puns and crude allusions. It would be the kind of attention that could kill their careers (or maybe just Gary’s, since Rob’s built up a reputation for the scandalous) and Gary’s been there before. He doesn’t ever want to be there again.
But the thing that scares Gary most in the world is losing Dan. The divorce was bad enough, ripping their family apart, splashed all over the papers, nearly destroying their relationship. Dad’s dating a man is even more extreme than Mum and Dad getting a divorce. Dan’s just getting to the age when kids at school will be cruellest, when he cares most about what people think, when he’s going to start pulling away from Gary and Dawn because that’s what teenagers do, and Gary would never forgive himself if he made these next few years harder on Dan than they’re already going to be.
In a perfect world, he wouldn’t have to choose between being a good dad and being with Rob. But he doesn’t live in a perfect world and he’s afraid of taking such a big risk, knowing how much he stands to lose.
* * *
“I can’t do this.” Gary says, and it makes Rob's breath catch in his chest.
“We already are doing this.” He protests. It’s the last day of the tour and they’ve made it this far already.
“I can’t do this anymore, then.”
“Why not?”
“We’re risking everything. It’s too much.”
It hits him like a punch to the gut. He’s so fucking used to this, to being told he’s not worth taking a risk on. It shouldn’t surprise him but it does. And it always does. After twenty-odd years you’d think he’d learn but he hasn’t.
“You’re a coward.” He snaps.
“You don’t get it. All of this could disappear in the blink of an eye. You’ve never been there, you can’t possibly understand that.”
“Bullshit. You’re scared of this, of us, not your bloody career drying up. At least have the balls to admit that.”
Gary flinches, and it’s slightly satisfying to watch.
“It’s going to go to shit anyway, so I think it’s just better if we stop now.”
“Jesus, Gaz, where is this even coming from? Who says it’s gonna go to shit?”
“It always does, with you and me.”
“Once isn’t always.”
“Well, maybe I learned my lesson back then.”
Gary knows how to hit him where it hurts, Rob has to admit.
“That’s not going to happen again.” Rob insists. “I love you too much.”
He hates that this is the first time he’s said it properly, hates that it comes out sounding pathetic and pleading.
“What if that’s not enough?” Gary says, his voice small and quiet and for a second Rob understands. His relationship with Dawn fell apart right in front of him, and he couldn’t hold it together no matter how hard he tried. But it’s different when it’s happening to him, to them, and as much as he understands where Gaz is coming from, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to forgive him for this. For giving up.
“Then I guess we’re all fucking liars, aren’t we?” Rob frowns. “You especially, with your epic love songs.”
He doesn’t mean for it to sound as nasty as it does and Gary winces. Rob sighs and runs a hand over his face.
“It’s not like I can force you,” he says, as evenly as he can manage when it feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath him. “If you don’t want to be with me, there’s nothing I can do about that.”
“I can’t.” Gary says, staring resolutely at a spot on the carpet.
“Guess I’m going then.” Rob says, and he’s never wanted to stay put more in his entire life. He hesitates, waiting for Gary to come to his senses, change his mind, blurt out an apology that will be a little bit awkward but mostly endearing and Rob will be angry for a bit but eventually they’ll talk properly and get everything back on track.
Only that doesn’t happen. Gary just stares silently at the carpeted floor, so Rob gathers his things, resisting the urge to stomp around like a petulant child, knowing it won’t exactly help matters. He slams the hotel room door, though, ignoring the confused looks from the two maids in the corridor.
It takes him three tries to slide his key card into his own hotel room door, his hands are shaking so badly. He can’t quite believe this is happening, that they’ve reached breaking point again and it kills him to think about leaving the lads, going back to L.A. and his solo career because there’s no way to get past this. It’s a sad, twisted parody of the way things were twenty years ago. He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he’s got no other choice. He didn’t think he could ever feel worse than he had then, at that moment, when he walked out of that rehearsal room and didn’t go back, but obviously he was wrong. Because this is like having his heart torn out of his chest and then having someone gleefully pour salt into the open wound.
* * *
Gary loses track of time sitting on the hotel bed, staring down at his hands. He’d gotten it all wrong, of course. He hadn’t meant to ruin everything all at once, but he sees now it couldn’t have gone any other way.
There was too much at stake for him, the gamble too big, and maybe it makes him a coward, but he can’t find a better solution.
And he wanted to feel better but instead he feels worse.
* * *
His house is silent and empty when the taxi drops Rob off. It has the stale smell of several weeks of emptiness, despite the cleaners having come yesterday. The last thing he really wants is to be alone, but he’s hardly fit for company right now either. He drops his bags inside the door, not particularly worried about unpacking right now. The fridge is stocked with food but he’s not hungry, just miserable, so he shuts it again and trudges up the stairs to his bedroom.
Before he falls asleep, he wonders if he should’ve seen it coming, should’ve realized Gary was going to cut his losses and run.
* * *
His life is quiet without Rob. Which is fine, because Gary likes quiet. For once the paps seem to be leaving him alone, which absolutely wouldn’t be the case if he were still with Rob. He likes being a bit more anonymous, so he turns down the offer to fill Simon Cowell’s judging seat on The X Factor. He sees Dan nearly every weekend and he caves to Dan’s pleading for a dog and he undertakes the project of updating the studio on his top floor, as some of the equipment’s got a bit out-dated now.
He doesn’t write. He tries, but instead he just stares down at the piano and wonders what happened to the melodies and the lyrics that used to come as easily as breathing.
Howard sends him an email nearly every other day, and while they’re all cheerful and full of Howard’s wry humour, Gary knows they’re all saying the same thing: I’m worried about you, mate.
Gary wants to tell him he’s fine and not to worry, but he’s not sure it would be the truth. He hurt Rob, he fractured the band, and there’s no one to point fingers at this time except himself. His reasoning sounds so flimsy now, and he knows it all really boils down to the same thing: he was scared to admit what he really wanted, scared of what it would mean if he chose Rob over everything else, scared of risking too much.
It means he is a coward, and that’s just something he’s going to have to learn to live with.
* * *
Rob is angry, more than anything. Angry with himself, with Gary, with the world. In the old days, he would’ve drowned his anger in booze and numbed his hurt with drugs, but he doesn’t have that option anymore, so he writes. Song after song that will never actually see the light of day, angry songs and sad songs and slightly hysterical songs. None of them are particularly good songs, but it’s cathartic getting everything down on paper, and at least it keeps him from snorting or drinking his feelings.
He wishes he could hate Gary. Instead, he still loves him and he doesn't know if he can stop.
And maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe he needs the reminder of what it feels like to be hurt so badly. It will make him more cautious; force him to grow out of that last bit of recklessness he’s been stubbornly clinging to for so long.
Then again, he’s lost so many pieces of himself over the past twenty years, he’s not sure he wants to surrender this one.
Mark rings him a lot. He never asks what happened, and Rob’s got no intention of telling him; never says are you still in the band which is a blessing since Rob’s got no idea what to say. Really he doesn’t want to talk about it at all, so he’s happy to spend long phone calls with Mark talking around it, never admitting that he’s pretty fucking destroyed. He doesn’t see the point of admitting it. Not to Mark, anyway.
He’s been a colossal idiot, and he hardly wants to broadcast it to anyone.
* * *
“Mum thought maybe you had a girlfriend.” Dan says over dinner. It’s the first weekend of his school holiday, and he’s staying with Gary through Christmas. It’ll be the first time they’re actually together on Christmas Day in a few years.
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Gary asks, already wary of where this conversation is headed.
“She said you sounded happy. Like properly, not just because you’re busy.”
“I am happy.”
“Not anymore. You’re sad again, I can tell. So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Have a girlfriend.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“A boyfriend then?”
It startles Gary, how casually Dan says it, like it hardly makes a difference to him whether Gary dates women or men. It was something Gary had been so worried about, one of the reasons he pushed Rob away, and Dan just accepts it like it isn’t even news.
“Would that bother you?”
“If you were dating someone?”
“If I had a boyfriend.”
Dan shrugs. “Lots of people have gay parents. Like six kids at school, at least. Probably more that I don’t even know about.”
“I’m not asking about them. I’m asking about you.”
“Why would I care?” Dan frowns. “I liked when you were happy. If that’s cos you have a boyfriend, it’s okay with me.”
“Had.” Gary corrects. “I had a boyfriend.”
It feels strange, calling Rob that. If that’s what he’d been, they’d certainly never talked about it.
“You don’t anymore?”
“We split up.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
Dan huffs out an annoyed sigh. “Bet it’s not. Grown-ups just say that when they don’t want to talk about something.”
“No, it really was complicated.”
Dan levels Gary with a serious look that makes him look much older than eleven. “Why was it so complicated, then?” He asks, his tone a little exasperated, like he’s the parent and Gary’s an uncooperative child.
Gary sighs. He knows Dan isn’t going to drop it. His son can be rather determined when it suits him.
“We were a disaster waiting to happen, him and me.”
“How’d you know that?” Dan frowns. “You can’t tell the future.”
“No, but history does have a way of repeating itself.”
Gary gives too much away with that, he can tell from the way Dan’s eyes widen in surprise before he schools his expression into something more neutral. He doesn’t press Gary further, and he pushes his pasta around his plate absently with his fork, suddenly deep in thought. Gary can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he works it all out.
“Can we go to the cinema?” He asks, dropping the topic entirely.
“Sure,” Gary agrees.
Dan picks the new Sherlock Holmes film, which is entertaining and escapist enough to take both their minds off the Rob situation, and it’s not until later, when he’s tucking Dan into bed that Dan asks, quietly, “It’s Rob, isn’t it?”
For a second, Gary considers lying because it would be easier, but he knows better. Dan will see right through him. “Yes.”
Dan sits up and crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly looking very much like his mum. “You two shouldn't have broken up.”
“Dan-
“No, listen to me. Just because you think it was going to be a disaster doesn’t mean it would’ve. You were both really happy, I could tell. And you guys just gave up. I mean, isn’t it better to at least try first? That’s what you used to tell me about football and homework, anyway. And I know, you’re going to say it’s more complicated than that, but I don’t think it is. Either he made you happy or he didn’t, and if he did then you’re an idiot if you don’t try and fix it.”
Gary doesn’t think he’s ever been so fiercely told off by anyone, including his mum, and Dan starts to look a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.” Gary says. “You’re right.”
“I shouldn’t have called you an idiot.”
“No. Although it was effective. Really got your point across.”
“So will you fix it?”
“It’s not that easy, Danno.”
“Well, won’t you at least try then? I want you to be happy and you’re not.”
Dan’s right, of course. He’s not happy. Saying otherwise is just lying to himself.
“I’ll think about it.” He promises. “Go to sleep.”
“I love you, Dad.” Dan says, without any of his usual preteen reluctance.
Gary tucks the duvet tighter around his son and kisses his forehead. “I love you too.”
Downstairs, he pours himself a glass of wine and drinks it a bit too quickly. His misses Rob so much it hurts, and he really thought that was only an expression but he feels it in his chest, a deep ache that he rarely acknowledges but gets worse as time passes.
Before he can talk himself out of it again, he scoops his phone up off the table and dials Rob’s number from memory. The call connects, and then Rob’s phone rings and rings until he hears a click and then nothing. Not even a chance to ramble miserably into the answerphone.
On the off chance it was a mistake, Gary tries again. And then a third time, because they say the third time is always the charm.
Only it’s not.
* * *
Rob watches his phone ring, Gary’s name on the screen and for a second he almost picks up. It would be so easy to answer the phone and pretend he doesn’t care what happened and he isn’t hurt and that they can just pick up where they left off, no harm done.
But Rob can’t let himself do that. He loves Gary but he doesn’t trust him anymore, and that’s a deadly combination. So he lets the phone ring, and when he gets tired of the buzzing noise he hangs up. And a minute later it starts buzzing again, so he does the same. And then again a third time, and before they can start this whole go-round a fourth time, Rob just turns the phone off and walks away from it. Josie will probably be annoyed with him when she tries to get through and can’t, but she also knows better than to only rely on his mobile as a means of communication. He hates the bloody thing, hates feeling like he’s tethered to it and that he can never get away from the incessant ringing and texting and emailing that everyone else seems to feel the need to do constantly. He’s got enough going on inside his head without having to worry about staying up to date with everything everyone is doing all the time.
He has ten voicemails when he turns his phone on the next morning, five from Josie, which he deletes without even listening to, since she turned up at his house last night when he wasn’t answering. (He feels a bit guilty about that, she’s been worried about him and he doesn’t need to worry her more. Besides, he can’t let her get too fed up with him and quit because he’ll never find a better assistant.)
Two are just hang-ups and the other three are from Gaz. Rob doesn’t listen to them. He can’t. He knows what would happen. Just one word of encouragement from Gary and he’d be on a plane back to London, setting himself up for disaster. He trusts himself even less than he trusts Gary, and since neither of them has been very good at looking after his heart, he reckons he’s better off if he just stays away entirely.
As if on cue, his phone starts to buzz, but this time it’s Mark and Rob doesn’t hesitate to answer. It’s been a bit longer than usual since they last spoke, and Mark is the only person who doesn’t talk to Rob like he’s pitying him or worried about him or like he’s chosen sides.
“Didn’t wake you, did I?” Mark asks.
“It’s ten in the morning.”
“That means nowt with you. Used to sleep til afternoon, you did.”
“I keep to a normal schedule these days. Or try to, anyway.”
“How you doing?” Mark asks. “Keeping busy?”
“Between all my appearances and social engagements I’m just about run off me feet.”
“I’ll take that as a no then.” Mark laughs.
“Been writing,” Rob says. “But it’s all shite so it doesn’t matter anyway. How’re your Emma and the kids?”
“Brilliant,” Mark says and Rob can picture his bright smile. “Got some news, actually. Emma’s having a baby.”
“That is brilliant news.”
“We’ve only just found out, so keep it to yourself for a bit. We’re trying to keep it quiet as long as we can. Think we’ve had enough of the press in our lives this year.”
“I won’t say a word.” Rob promises. “Congratulations.”
“You all right?” Mark asks, and Rob guesses his enthusiasm sounds as forced as it feels.
He sighs. “Gets a bit lonely. Just me and the dogs rattling around this big house.”
“Just say if you want some company. I’m sure the kids would love a California holiday.”
“I’ll be fine, Markie. Just being a bit dramatic.”
Mark hesitates before saying, “We can talk about Gaz. We don’t have to, but we can.”
“Not much to say.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yes.”
“You gonna do anything about it?”
“Nothing to do. He made his decision.”
“Doesn’t sound like the Rob I know.”
“What Rob is that? I don’t think I remember him.”
“The stubborn one who doesn’t give up when he wants something.”
“Oh that Rob. Well, his ego is bruised and his heart’s a bit broken and he’s got tired of being the one nobody wants for keeps.”
Mark sighs. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“There isn’t.”
“I know. You sure you don’t want me to bring Willow and Elwood over? They could drive anybody to distraction.”
“You make it sound so enticing, but no thanks. Give Emma my love and congratulations.”
“I will. Take care of yourself, mate. Call if you need anything.”
“All right,” Rob says, knowing he won’t. “Speak to you soon.”
He hangs up the phone feeling worse than before. He’s frustrated and jealous and annoyed and miserable and he really just wishes he could take a holiday from all of this, but knows it’s just going to follow him everywhere.
Part 4