FIC: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act IV (Part One)
Title: Behold! Us Wayward Monsters - Act IV (Part One)
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
ACT IV
The next two weeks of rehearsal whizzed by too quickly. The soft opener for the public was a countdown in all their minds-14, 13, then 7, 6,5-but Zach let it rush through him, made it rule his days.
The sooner it was over, the better. They would stay in Montréal for a week and then ship themselves to Europe, where there would be plenty of different distractions. Food, culture, men-the beautiful sights that Zach couldn’t see anywhere else.
He let the spoon dangle from his mouth, eyeing the empty corner of the cafeteria. Joey was gabbing next to him, which automatically made Zach tune-out.
“-And then they screamed so loud that I thought they were murdering each other instead of having sex.” Joey glanced at Zach. “That would’ve been an odd phone call. ‘Yeah, um, so I thought my brother was receiving the best rim job ever…’”
Zach looked at his companions dully, noticing that only Natalia laughed. She had a soft chortle of a laugh, only obvious when John and Joey would shut up. Which they had, because they were elbowing each other and watching Zach carefully.
Zach dropped his spoon with a thud. “Catch you guys later.”
“Aww, come on.” Joey grabbed his wrist to prevent him from standing up. “It’s just a bit of fun.” Joey winked at John. “Also, maybe some jealousy.”
Zach sighed at his tray and sat back down. He wasn’t really in the mood for company, as his brain was still trying to sort out the kinks from their third act. There was a spark of something missing-even Louis had said so. ”Chemistry, passion!”, Louis had said-well, shouted in his angry-little-man way.
Zach glanced at the end of the table, but of course there was nothing there.
“Dude, I can’t imagine dating someone on tour.” John tore apart a dinner roll with his fingers. “I call my wife, and I just want to mail her my guts afterwards.”
That was interesting. Zach had no idea that John was married, but it made sense. There had been no sense of innuendo from him, just playful flirting-well, minus an ass-pat or two. But then, Zach had a fabulous ass.
“That could be messy,” Zach commented, now stirring his spoon in his still-full bowl of soup. Really, he had never been a soup person, what had he been thinking?
“She offered that I should mail her my dick, but then I said I would miss it-which opened up a whole slew of questions I didn’t mean.”
Joey giggled. “You couldn’t win.” He turned to Natalia on his left, “Please don’t ever ask for my dick.”
“I like mine attached,” she said in her thick accent, and Zach made a face as they did some kissy noises-or some actual kissing, he didn’t know and didn’t care.
Even John made a face. “God, Het sex is so…. gross.” He looked at Zach. “Dicks are gross.”
Zach shrugged-he couldn’t agree. “Detached ones, yes.”
John dove into his grilled cheese and tomato soup, and Zach continued to ignore the noisy PDA to his left. It was all tedious-he looked at the tiles of the ceiling, the blank walls of the cafeteria. He counted the number of beans in his soup, the number of crumbs that spilled over from John’s tray.
Eventually he noticed when Zoe entered the cafeteria, looking pretty and delicate as always. If Zach ever had to be reincarnated as a girl, he would want to look like her-she had a sense of being entirely put-together, regardless of the circumstances. Poise. Tact. Her ex-boyfriend had been in the same act for months, and now they were back to dining together without awkwardness. Progress.
Zach looked at the end of the table again, still expecting to see the blue hoodie. It was a conundrum-he didn’t really want to see Chris, but at the same time, maybe he did.
John leaned in close. “I wonder when they got back together.”
Zach stupidly blinked for a moment, and John rolled his eyes.
“Zoe. Karl. Horizontal mambo, once again.”
Zach raised an eyebrow-good for them. He supposed that after five years on tour, they would realize that the time for fucking was short and c’est la vie.
“Do you think if they had a baby, they’d name it after me?”
Zach squinted his eyes. “They don’t want babies.”
John thought on that a moment. “How about a puppy?”
“How about why would they name it after you in the first place?”
John pouted as he sat up straight. “You’re right. They like you and Chris more, anyway.”
Zach tried not to hiss on the inhale-what was it all about, anyway? They weren’t together anymore. So what.
“If you and Chris had a baby-“
Zach stood up with his tray. “No.” And before John could open his mouth, “I hate puppies.”
John gaped at him. “You monster.”
Zach shrugged-it was untrue, anyway. “I like the mature dog with a name for himself, thanks.”
Not that Chris would likely want a dog. A career in the Cirque probably made that difficult, considering all the traveling.
Zach dumped his tray loudly, not really sure what his aggression was all about. Chris wasn’t speaking to him, and that was fine. They were professional on stage and that was all that mattered. Zach was right on cue, Chris was right on cue-nothing to it. Really, it just proved that Zach had been right about it being better for the show. Case closed.
Zach went back to the IKEA house, determined to go to bed early and get a head start on the final 96 hours.
)O(
He worked out more, that was for sure. After another grueling day of being yelled at by Louis, and then prodded by seamstresses, and then being lectured by Kurt about their overseas tour-“You will behave in a matter befitting of the Cirque. No drugs, no alcohol, no parties”-Zach had decided that a treadmill was what he needed.
He still looked at that stupid wall, the one with “You can do it!” written enthusiastically on the side. Zach wasn’t sure what it was meant to be encouraging anymore, as Zach ran his five miles and did it routinely for the last week. It beat the alternative of sitting alone in his room, and that was motivation enough.
Zach cranked up the incline-damn, he missed Chris. That kind of sucked. Apparently they had done a lot together, like take their meals and free time and social life as a duo-very inconvenient. When he had gone to Poker at Karl’s place last weekend, it was quite obvious that Chris had just left, making Zach feel like a major killjoy. Same for the cafeteria sometimes, in that their table would be happy and full of excitement until Zach smacked his dull and lifeless tray down, ruining the moment.
Joey was too busy with Natalia, so that was out.
Zach huffed as the dial went too far-really, why was Zach going to Poker, anyway? He got up at seven am and rehearsals rolled out at nine. He didn’t have time for that shit.
And Chris had been wrong about all of it. If there were people who supposedly loved and cared for him, then where the fuck were they when he was bored out of his mind? Boats could fucking cross the Strait of Gibraltar, or be hitched over great walls, or whatever the fuck metaphor was in vogue at the moment.
It’s not like Chris loved or cared for him, anyway-
Zach felt his knees give as he smacked face-first into the treadmill, then was unceremoniously rolled off onto the carpeting. It was abrupt to be landing ass-first and sitting up, head spinning from the impact. He touched his nose, then his forehead, watching and listening to the treadmill belt and motor.
Zach looked around-he was alone. Thank God for that.
“No more treadmills,” he muttered to himself. And that was probably for the best, as he stood up and brushed himself gingerly, refraining from kicking that inspirational wall.
)O(
“What did you think about the change for Zoe’s act?” Joey popped a chip into his mouth and crunched noisily. “I think she’s pissed that she doesn’t have a solo anymore.”
Zach stirred the vegetable stir fry in the pan, thinking he’d be pissed, too. “Kind of short notice, really.” Although the changes had taken place a week ago, this was the first time Joey had sat with Zach to catch up.
“I guess it made sense-there were too many solos in the show. Plus it’s not like she still doesn’t get to breathe fire or anything.”
Zach had finally been able to see that in person during rehearsals this week. Before it had all been mimed, when Zoe spat fire from her mouth at the audience, hopefully scaring them half to death. Now there was a torch she danced with as she ballerina-ed on lily pads and supposed pond bubbles, looking delicate and fragile until that final, shocking moment.
Their show was full of those-Zach was rather proud of that.
“It’s more like she has back-up dancers, anyway,” Zach said as he added the tofu to the pan. He wasn’t really fond of the stuff personally, but he could sacrifice this meal to hang out with Joey. “She’s still the only ballerina. Everyone else just watches and hands her stuff.”
“They’re recycling some colorful costumes from Dralion.”
“Are they going to be guppies or mermaids?” Zach didn’t know why the Chinese just didn’t use their already-orange costumes, but apparently that would clash too much with Zoe’s pink and yellow. Blue-green, like the water, was the name of the game.
Joey only shrugged. “Nat is just glad she gets to keep her solo. But she has that whole intro, though-Zoe we just come across. That probably made the difference.” Another chip went into his mouth. “Oh, and seniority.”
Zach bent over the pan, rolling his eyes. He had heard about all of that ages ago. Natalia had been in the Cirque as long as Bruce, as a child performer who grew up on the stage. She could probably contort into pretzels in her sleep.
Not that Zach wanted to imagine that.
“Hey, so, you know-I’ve been meaning to ask-“
Zach took a deep breath. Good grief.
“How are you and Chris? I haven’t seen him here, lately.” More crunching, more chipping. “Nothing happened, right?”
Of course Joey wouldn’t have noticed, as he was off at Natalia’s every night for the last two months. He should just inform Kurt to send Joey’s missives and memos there, really.
“Nah, not much. We just decided it wasn’t working, and that’s that.” Zach turned down the heat of the pan and added the sauce. As he fiddled in the kitchen trying to find a lid, he felt Joey’s eyes daggering his back. “You know, it was just as well. We’re only going to be on tour for a year at most anyway, and then we’d have to go our separate ways.”
He finally turned to look at Joey, whose hand had paused mid-munching. Zach didn’t think it should be that surprising of news.
“I mean, Chris wants to stay with the Cirque, and I’m not sure if that’s really our type of thing, anyway.” Zach found a sponge and wiped down the counter. “I mean, we missed Burning Man this year, but we could totally go next year. And that gallery in Taos was interested in more of your art, so we could go hang down there for a while-“
Zach didn’t have to look at Joey to know the mood had changed. The way his gut sucked in an imaginary punch, topped by all of his nerves jangling, meant that Zach was not going to hear something good.
“You know, if you want to.” Zach lifted the lid and stirred the tofu, although he knew it was too soon.
Joey’s fidgeting was like the shuffling sound effect in movies-too loud, too obvious, too much of Joey trying to gather himself. The last time Zach had seen Joey like this was when he had informed Zach, ever so solemnly, after a viewing of An Inconvenient Truth: ”I think we should stop eating beef. Did you know that saves more carbon emissions than driving a Prius for a year?”
And of course they had stopped eating beef-or stopped being able to afford it, anyway.
“Um, Zach? I really like Nat. Like, really really like her.”
Oh good, that weren’t onto that other L-word yet. “That’s nice.”
“I think I’m going to stay in Montréal with her.” And then Joey quickly amended, “I am going to stay in Montréal with her. Together. You know? At her place. She has this really nice townhouse down the street, and we practically walk here every morning. It’s nice.”
Well, that explained why he never really saw the French Bitch at the IKEA house.
“I mean, we get along really well.” Joey laughed lightly, as if to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this comfortable with anyone else, like, ever. Well, except you. But you're my brother, and I don’t wanna have sex with you.”
Zach stared down at the stove. “Thank God.”
“Zach? Look at me.”
He didn’t really want to. He wanted to stare at the stove and turn up the heat-some men just wanted to watch the stir fry burn.
“Zach?”
He turned to the side, a small smile shakily in place. “That’s great. I’m glad you feel that way.” Zach turned quickly to stir with a spatula-shit was done, maybe overdone. “Whatever makes you happy.”
Joey was silent as Zach opened up cupboards to find dishware. It was nice of the Cirque to give them basic amenities-he supposed it was to make their apartment feel like home. The dishes were ugly, but Zach didn’t care about the floral pattern as he spooned hot stir fry into bowls, then poked a fork into each dish. The bottom of the bowls threatened to burn his hands, but Zach held them and turned towards the table quickly, wanting to avoid Joey’s eyes.
Their gazes locked anyway, and Joey held it with determination. “I love her, Zach. I want this one to last.”
Zach wanted to avoid dinner and go hang himself in his room-but then, he supposed, not everyone could have what they wanted.
“If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Zach feigned a cheerful grin as he slid a bowl across the table, then sat down at his own place with a plunk.
It was all true, after all. Zach’s mission in life had been to make Joey happy and content, no matter the costs. So what if Natalia took Joey off his hands? So what. Perhaps Zach could hang gay porn in his solitary living room now, if he wanted.
Not that Joey had ever objected to such a thing.
“Zach?” Joey didn’t touch his food, instead watching Zach’s face closely. “I love you.”
Zach stabbed through wilted broccoli with a fork. They had never really said as much, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was a truth as obvious as the sun. “Love you too, Joe.”
“What about you, Zach?” Joey tasted a piece of crumbled tofu, broken apart by spatula abuse. “I mean, Natalia is totally okay with you staying with us-“
“Nah, I’m great.” Zach was stuffing rice into his mouth now, despite how tasteless and textureless it felt. Everything was cardboard and wood chips and glass shards embedded in his chest.
Joey didn’t buy any of it. “Why don’t you come with us to visit Ma? Then you could maybe find some work there-“
“Really? You actually think Pittsburgh is a good idea?” Zach had finished his bowl, ready to smash it into the sink.
And Joey-Joey actually had the gall to look confused. Like Pittsburgh was Disneyland and Fairyland and Christmas and ponies, ready to welcome them both back with clean slates and open arms.
“…Yeah?” Joey narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
Zach mentally counted backwards in his head. When he finally felt he could conjure a tight smile, he stood up and said, “All right. I’ll go with you guys.”
“Wait-why are you leaving?”
Zach placed his bowl carefully in the sink, an eerie calm descending over him. He gripped the counter, and when his hands felt like they wouldn’t shake, he turned around to face Joey. “I’m tired. Sorry. Was up at 6am this morning.”
He walked quickly past the table, intending to go straight to his room. But through some strange, protective impulse, he backtracked to give Joey a quick kiss on the head.
“Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll do them later.” He squeezed Joey’s shoulder. “Have a good night.”
And for all Zach knew, Joey left soon after. He was only focused on making it to his room and closing the bedroom door before he said or did anything stupid. Thankfully Zach succeeded, leaning against the door as he took a deep breath:
The world was trying to kill him. And this time? Zach wasn’t sure if he could win.
)O(
The dream this time had been Chris, the tiger, and Joey in the marijuana van. Tiger was talking shit as Zach pulled out all his teeth one-by-one, and Chris and Joey were commiserating. Over what? Zach didn’t give a damn. He had been counting how much he’d make from the Tooth Fairy, which Tiger had debated considering the price of inflation and Canadian currency.
“God, I’m fucking screwed up,” Zach murmured to himself, his arm draped over his eyes. He had fallen asleep with the light on, and some asshole had designed the bed to be directly under the overhead bulb.
The moment gave Zach too much pause to let misery seep back in. Oh yeah, Zach had been considering three different things when he fell asleep: Dropping the French Bitch into a swamp, dropping Chris into a swamp-and possibly even Joey, now that he really thought about it.
But most of all was the looming fate of uncertainty. It was a specter at the corner of his mind, influencing all his thoughts.
What the fuck was he upset about?
Zach turned over on his side, looking at the face of his cell phone. 3:32am. Lovely. At least two and half more hours before he could haunt Cirque headquarters without drawing attention from the security guards. Lots of athletes poured through the doors then, giving Zach a reasonable alibi other than I am avoiding everyone I know until the last excusable moment.
Which was weird in itself. Life was supposed to move forwards, not backwards. He acted like he had just arrived at the Cirque, not that it had been his home the past six months.
And really-how many times had Zach thought about life without Joey? Tons. Over 17 years there had been plenty of opportunities to ditch his brother in the dust. Solo acts, artist colonies, clingy but well-off boyfriends, diverging interests. Zach had worked at a tourist trap in Taos so Joey could showcase his work there, even though Zach had received an offer to manage a haunted house in Minneapolis-not that Zach really liked haunted houses, or Minnesota, but that wasn’t the point.
Zach… had no dreams left. And he knew it was because of Joey. What would life be like if Zach had been too late, or never wandered over to Joey’s dorm in the first place? He’d be a fucking mess, but what sort of mess?
Did Joey ever realize that Zach had starved himself for a week to buy Joey that one camera lens for Christmas? No. Did Joey ever realize that sometimes Zach didn’t sleep because he was working too much in order to pay the rent? No. Did Joey ever realize that Zach never liked doing the dishes, or taking over their laundry, or sharing mint toothpaste when Zach really preferred cinnamon? No.
How many times had Zach kicked boyfriends out of the house the second they complained about his shut-in brother? No looking back, hands wiped clean.
Zach looked over at the empty space next to him, then angrily grabbed the extra pillow, because he could. He punched it and fluffed it, then stuffed it uncomfortably under his head. Because, fuck-he had never done any of those things for Joey to realize. Realization had never been in the equation.
But Zach was still bitter, all the same. He knew Joey was grateful, and he knew Joey was always trying his best, and he knew Joey had offered more than once to pitch in his fair share. But for Zach, it had never felt right. He was… constantly in a state of begging for forgiveness.
Zach bit his lip-fuck no. There was no time to cry about that. It was long over and far done.
And yet… on Joey’s 25th birthday, when he had hugged Zach and said, ”I’m so happy now”, gratitude in the strength of Joey’s arms, Zach had always wondered why he, himself, wasn’t.
Maybe he was more traumatized by Pittsburgh than Joey was.
Zach rolled onto his back, shielding his eyes again, and had the momentary impulse of curling into someone. Chris had kind of forced cuddling sometimes, since Zach didn’t like being spooned from behind, but there had been the compromise of leaning across Chris’ chest. Zach didn’t like to be held, but he did like the warmth beneath his stomach, his nose buried into the crook of Chris’ neck.
He wouldn’t have to explain his feelings. Before, he could curl inward and feel the fingers at the back of his neck, delicate circles as he fell asleep. Before, it had just been good enough to exist, to fall into bed together and ask no questions.
Why weren’t things good enough, anymore? Why did Joey have to run away with that… person, while Chris had actually had the audacity to say they weren’t boyfriends.
“Fuck him,” Zach muttered, turning over. So what if they had been? The last Zach knew, boyfriends didn’t have an emotional clause of you must admit all your secrets and indiscretions or thus invalidate this stupid fucking contract.
Zach sat up, pointing at himself in a full-length mirror across from the bed. “We were fucking boyfriends, you ass-twat.”
Which Zach could immediately imagine Chris replying, Aren’t those two different areas of the body?
“Uggghh.” Zach jumped off the bed in a growl of frustration, immediately pacing the room. Fuck Chris, fuck Joey, fuck Natalia-fuck everyone on the planet, including himself.
If Zach had known his brother would get abducted by a She-Demon, or that he’d accidentally gain and lose a boyfriend, he never would have auditioned for the Cirque in Vegas. He would have dragged Joey by the ear to another corner of the universe-to Russia, or even Antarctica. Those would probably have been far enough. Cold as fuck, but far enough.
Zach held up his hands to no one particular. “I’m done-I’m done!” He was going to complete his Cirque tour and then get the hell out of Dodge.
Which would make for a very long and lonely year. Night after night of seeing Joey cuddle with Natalia in some foreign city, then seeing Chris probably move on to somebody else.
Zach looked at the clock-4:56 am. Close enough that he could go slash a trampoline undetected, if he wanted to.
Masterlist | Act IV (Part Two)
Masterlist: I ( One, Two) | II ( One, Two) | III ( One, Two) | IV ( One, Two)
ACT IV
The next two weeks of rehearsal whizzed by too quickly. The soft opener for the public was a countdown in all their minds-14, 13, then 7, 6,5-but Zach let it rush through him, made it rule his days.
The sooner it was over, the better. They would stay in Montréal for a week and then ship themselves to Europe, where there would be plenty of different distractions. Food, culture, men-the beautiful sights that Zach couldn’t see anywhere else.
He let the spoon dangle from his mouth, eyeing the empty corner of the cafeteria. Joey was gabbing next to him, which automatically made Zach tune-out.
“-And then they screamed so loud that I thought they were murdering each other instead of having sex.” Joey glanced at Zach. “That would’ve been an odd phone call. ‘Yeah, um, so I thought my brother was receiving the best rim job ever…’”
Zach looked at his companions dully, noticing that only Natalia laughed. She had a soft chortle of a laugh, only obvious when John and Joey would shut up. Which they had, because they were elbowing each other and watching Zach carefully.
Zach dropped his spoon with a thud. “Catch you guys later.”
“Aww, come on.” Joey grabbed his wrist to prevent him from standing up. “It’s just a bit of fun.” Joey winked at John. “Also, maybe some jealousy.”
Zach sighed at his tray and sat back down. He wasn’t really in the mood for company, as his brain was still trying to sort out the kinks from their third act. There was a spark of something missing-even Louis had said so. ”Chemistry, passion!”, Louis had said-well, shouted in his angry-little-man way.
Zach glanced at the end of the table, but of course there was nothing there.
“Dude, I can’t imagine dating someone on tour.” John tore apart a dinner roll with his fingers. “I call my wife, and I just want to mail her my guts afterwards.”
That was interesting. Zach had no idea that John was married, but it made sense. There had been no sense of innuendo from him, just playful flirting-well, minus an ass-pat or two. But then, Zach had a fabulous ass.
“That could be messy,” Zach commented, now stirring his spoon in his still-full bowl of soup. Really, he had never been a soup person, what had he been thinking?
“She offered that I should mail her my dick, but then I said I would miss it-which opened up a whole slew of questions I didn’t mean.”
Joey giggled. “You couldn’t win.” He turned to Natalia on his left, “Please don’t ever ask for my dick.”
“I like mine attached,” she said in her thick accent, and Zach made a face as they did some kissy noises-or some actual kissing, he didn’t know and didn’t care.
Even John made a face. “God, Het sex is so…. gross.” He looked at Zach. “Dicks are gross.”
Zach shrugged-he couldn’t agree. “Detached ones, yes.”
John dove into his grilled cheese and tomato soup, and Zach continued to ignore the noisy PDA to his left. It was all tedious-he looked at the tiles of the ceiling, the blank walls of the cafeteria. He counted the number of beans in his soup, the number of crumbs that spilled over from John’s tray.
Eventually he noticed when Zoe entered the cafeteria, looking pretty and delicate as always. If Zach ever had to be reincarnated as a girl, he would want to look like her-she had a sense of being entirely put-together, regardless of the circumstances. Poise. Tact. Her ex-boyfriend had been in the same act for months, and now they were back to dining together without awkwardness. Progress.
Zach looked at the end of the table again, still expecting to see the blue hoodie. It was a conundrum-he didn’t really want to see Chris, but at the same time, maybe he did.
John leaned in close. “I wonder when they got back together.”
Zach stupidly blinked for a moment, and John rolled his eyes.
“Zoe. Karl. Horizontal mambo, once again.”
Zach raised an eyebrow-good for them. He supposed that after five years on tour, they would realize that the time for fucking was short and c’est la vie.
“Do you think if they had a baby, they’d name it after me?”
Zach squinted his eyes. “They don’t want babies.”
John thought on that a moment. “How about a puppy?”
“How about why would they name it after you in the first place?”
John pouted as he sat up straight. “You’re right. They like you and Chris more, anyway.”
Zach tried not to hiss on the inhale-what was it all about, anyway? They weren’t together anymore. So what.
“If you and Chris had a baby-“
Zach stood up with his tray. “No.” And before John could open his mouth, “I hate puppies.”
John gaped at him. “You monster.”
Zach shrugged-it was untrue, anyway. “I like the mature dog with a name for himself, thanks.”
Not that Chris would likely want a dog. A career in the Cirque probably made that difficult, considering all the traveling.
Zach dumped his tray loudly, not really sure what his aggression was all about. Chris wasn’t speaking to him, and that was fine. They were professional on stage and that was all that mattered. Zach was right on cue, Chris was right on cue-nothing to it. Really, it just proved that Zach had been right about it being better for the show. Case closed.
Zach went back to the IKEA house, determined to go to bed early and get a head start on the final 96 hours.
)O(
He worked out more, that was for sure. After another grueling day of being yelled at by Louis, and then prodded by seamstresses, and then being lectured by Kurt about their overseas tour-“You will behave in a matter befitting of the Cirque. No drugs, no alcohol, no parties”-Zach had decided that a treadmill was what he needed.
He still looked at that stupid wall, the one with “You can do it!” written enthusiastically on the side. Zach wasn’t sure what it was meant to be encouraging anymore, as Zach ran his five miles and did it routinely for the last week. It beat the alternative of sitting alone in his room, and that was motivation enough.
Zach cranked up the incline-damn, he missed Chris. That kind of sucked. Apparently they had done a lot together, like take their meals and free time and social life as a duo-very inconvenient. When he had gone to Poker at Karl’s place last weekend, it was quite obvious that Chris had just left, making Zach feel like a major killjoy. Same for the cafeteria sometimes, in that their table would be happy and full of excitement until Zach smacked his dull and lifeless tray down, ruining the moment.
Joey was too busy with Natalia, so that was out.
Zach huffed as the dial went too far-really, why was Zach going to Poker, anyway? He got up at seven am and rehearsals rolled out at nine. He didn’t have time for that shit.
And Chris had been wrong about all of it. If there were people who supposedly loved and cared for him, then where the fuck were they when he was bored out of his mind? Boats could fucking cross the Strait of Gibraltar, or be hitched over great walls, or whatever the fuck metaphor was in vogue at the moment.
It’s not like Chris loved or cared for him, anyway-
Zach felt his knees give as he smacked face-first into the treadmill, then was unceremoniously rolled off onto the carpeting. It was abrupt to be landing ass-first and sitting up, head spinning from the impact. He touched his nose, then his forehead, watching and listening to the treadmill belt and motor.
Zach looked around-he was alone. Thank God for that.
“No more treadmills,” he muttered to himself. And that was probably for the best, as he stood up and brushed himself gingerly, refraining from kicking that inspirational wall.
)O(
“What did you think about the change for Zoe’s act?” Joey popped a chip into his mouth and crunched noisily. “I think she’s pissed that she doesn’t have a solo anymore.”
Zach stirred the vegetable stir fry in the pan, thinking he’d be pissed, too. “Kind of short notice, really.” Although the changes had taken place a week ago, this was the first time Joey had sat with Zach to catch up.
“I guess it made sense-there were too many solos in the show. Plus it’s not like she still doesn’t get to breathe fire or anything.”
Zach had finally been able to see that in person during rehearsals this week. Before it had all been mimed, when Zoe spat fire from her mouth at the audience, hopefully scaring them half to death. Now there was a torch she danced with as she ballerina-ed on lily pads and supposed pond bubbles, looking delicate and fragile until that final, shocking moment.
Their show was full of those-Zach was rather proud of that.
“It’s more like she has back-up dancers, anyway,” Zach said as he added the tofu to the pan. He wasn’t really fond of the stuff personally, but he could sacrifice this meal to hang out with Joey. “She’s still the only ballerina. Everyone else just watches and hands her stuff.”
“They’re recycling some colorful costumes from Dralion.”
“Are they going to be guppies or mermaids?” Zach didn’t know why the Chinese just didn’t use their already-orange costumes, but apparently that would clash too much with Zoe’s pink and yellow. Blue-green, like the water, was the name of the game.
Joey only shrugged. “Nat is just glad she gets to keep her solo. But she has that whole intro, though-Zoe we just come across. That probably made the difference.” Another chip went into his mouth. “Oh, and seniority.”
Zach bent over the pan, rolling his eyes. He had heard about all of that ages ago. Natalia had been in the Cirque as long as Bruce, as a child performer who grew up on the stage. She could probably contort into pretzels in her sleep.
Not that Zach wanted to imagine that.
“Hey, so, you know-I’ve been meaning to ask-“
Zach took a deep breath. Good grief.
“How are you and Chris? I haven’t seen him here, lately.” More crunching, more chipping. “Nothing happened, right?”
Of course Joey wouldn’t have noticed, as he was off at Natalia’s every night for the last two months. He should just inform Kurt to send Joey’s missives and memos there, really.
“Nah, not much. We just decided it wasn’t working, and that’s that.” Zach turned down the heat of the pan and added the sauce. As he fiddled in the kitchen trying to find a lid, he felt Joey’s eyes daggering his back. “You know, it was just as well. We’re only going to be on tour for a year at most anyway, and then we’d have to go our separate ways.”
He finally turned to look at Joey, whose hand had paused mid-munching. Zach didn’t think it should be that surprising of news.
“I mean, Chris wants to stay with the Cirque, and I’m not sure if that’s really our type of thing, anyway.” Zach found a sponge and wiped down the counter. “I mean, we missed Burning Man this year, but we could totally go next year. And that gallery in Taos was interested in more of your art, so we could go hang down there for a while-“
Zach didn’t have to look at Joey to know the mood had changed. The way his gut sucked in an imaginary punch, topped by all of his nerves jangling, meant that Zach was not going to hear something good.
“You know, if you want to.” Zach lifted the lid and stirred the tofu, although he knew it was too soon.
Joey’s fidgeting was like the shuffling sound effect in movies-too loud, too obvious, too much of Joey trying to gather himself. The last time Zach had seen Joey like this was when he had informed Zach, ever so solemnly, after a viewing of An Inconvenient Truth: ”I think we should stop eating beef. Did you know that saves more carbon emissions than driving a Prius for a year?”
And of course they had stopped eating beef-or stopped being able to afford it, anyway.
“Um, Zach? I really like Nat. Like, really really like her.”
Oh good, that weren’t onto that other L-word yet. “That’s nice.”
“I think I’m going to stay in Montréal with her.” And then Joey quickly amended, “I am going to stay in Montréal with her. Together. You know? At her place. She has this really nice townhouse down the street, and we practically walk here every morning. It’s nice.”
Well, that explained why he never really saw the French Bitch at the IKEA house.
“I mean, we get along really well.” Joey laughed lightly, as if to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this comfortable with anyone else, like, ever. Well, except you. But you're my brother, and I don’t wanna have sex with you.”
Zach stared down at the stove. “Thank God.”
“Zach? Look at me.”
He didn’t really want to. He wanted to stare at the stove and turn up the heat-some men just wanted to watch the stir fry burn.
“Zach?”
He turned to the side, a small smile shakily in place. “That’s great. I’m glad you feel that way.” Zach turned quickly to stir with a spatula-shit was done, maybe overdone. “Whatever makes you happy.”
Joey was silent as Zach opened up cupboards to find dishware. It was nice of the Cirque to give them basic amenities-he supposed it was to make their apartment feel like home. The dishes were ugly, but Zach didn’t care about the floral pattern as he spooned hot stir fry into bowls, then poked a fork into each dish. The bottom of the bowls threatened to burn his hands, but Zach held them and turned towards the table quickly, wanting to avoid Joey’s eyes.
Their gazes locked anyway, and Joey held it with determination. “I love her, Zach. I want this one to last.”
Zach wanted to avoid dinner and go hang himself in his room-but then, he supposed, not everyone could have what they wanted.
“If you’re happy, I’m happy.” Zach feigned a cheerful grin as he slid a bowl across the table, then sat down at his own place with a plunk.
It was all true, after all. Zach’s mission in life had been to make Joey happy and content, no matter the costs. So what if Natalia took Joey off his hands? So what. Perhaps Zach could hang gay porn in his solitary living room now, if he wanted.
Not that Joey had ever objected to such a thing.
“Zach?” Joey didn’t touch his food, instead watching Zach’s face closely. “I love you.”
Zach stabbed through wilted broccoli with a fork. They had never really said as much, but it didn’t feel awkward. It was a truth as obvious as the sun. “Love you too, Joe.”
“What about you, Zach?” Joey tasted a piece of crumbled tofu, broken apart by spatula abuse. “I mean, Natalia is totally okay with you staying with us-“
“Nah, I’m great.” Zach was stuffing rice into his mouth now, despite how tasteless and textureless it felt. Everything was cardboard and wood chips and glass shards embedded in his chest.
Joey didn’t buy any of it. “Why don’t you come with us to visit Ma? Then you could maybe find some work there-“
“Really? You actually think Pittsburgh is a good idea?” Zach had finished his bowl, ready to smash it into the sink.
And Joey-Joey actually had the gall to look confused. Like Pittsburgh was Disneyland and Fairyland and Christmas and ponies, ready to welcome them both back with clean slates and open arms.
“…Yeah?” Joey narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”
Zach mentally counted backwards in his head. When he finally felt he could conjure a tight smile, he stood up and said, “All right. I’ll go with you guys.”
“Wait-why are you leaving?”
Zach placed his bowl carefully in the sink, an eerie calm descending over him. He gripped the counter, and when his hands felt like they wouldn’t shake, he turned around to face Joey. “I’m tired. Sorry. Was up at 6am this morning.”
He walked quickly past the table, intending to go straight to his room. But through some strange, protective impulse, he backtracked to give Joey a quick kiss on the head.
“Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll do them later.” He squeezed Joey’s shoulder. “Have a good night.”
And for all Zach knew, Joey left soon after. He was only focused on making it to his room and closing the bedroom door before he said or did anything stupid. Thankfully Zach succeeded, leaning against the door as he took a deep breath:
The world was trying to kill him. And this time? Zach wasn’t sure if he could win.
)O(
The dream this time had been Chris, the tiger, and Joey in the marijuana van. Tiger was talking shit as Zach pulled out all his teeth one-by-one, and Chris and Joey were commiserating. Over what? Zach didn’t give a damn. He had been counting how much he’d make from the Tooth Fairy, which Tiger had debated considering the price of inflation and Canadian currency.
“God, I’m fucking screwed up,” Zach murmured to himself, his arm draped over his eyes. He had fallen asleep with the light on, and some asshole had designed the bed to be directly under the overhead bulb.
The moment gave Zach too much pause to let misery seep back in. Oh yeah, Zach had been considering three different things when he fell asleep: Dropping the French Bitch into a swamp, dropping Chris into a swamp-and possibly even Joey, now that he really thought about it.
But most of all was the looming fate of uncertainty. It was a specter at the corner of his mind, influencing all his thoughts.
What the fuck was he upset about?
Zach turned over on his side, looking at the face of his cell phone. 3:32am. Lovely. At least two and half more hours before he could haunt Cirque headquarters without drawing attention from the security guards. Lots of athletes poured through the doors then, giving Zach a reasonable alibi other than I am avoiding everyone I know until the last excusable moment.
Which was weird in itself. Life was supposed to move forwards, not backwards. He acted like he had just arrived at the Cirque, not that it had been his home the past six months.
And really-how many times had Zach thought about life without Joey? Tons. Over 17 years there had been plenty of opportunities to ditch his brother in the dust. Solo acts, artist colonies, clingy but well-off boyfriends, diverging interests. Zach had worked at a tourist trap in Taos so Joey could showcase his work there, even though Zach had received an offer to manage a haunted house in Minneapolis-not that Zach really liked haunted houses, or Minnesota, but that wasn’t the point.
Zach… had no dreams left. And he knew it was because of Joey. What would life be like if Zach had been too late, or never wandered over to Joey’s dorm in the first place? He’d be a fucking mess, but what sort of mess?
Did Joey ever realize that Zach had starved himself for a week to buy Joey that one camera lens for Christmas? No. Did Joey ever realize that sometimes Zach didn’t sleep because he was working too much in order to pay the rent? No. Did Joey ever realize that Zach never liked doing the dishes, or taking over their laundry, or sharing mint toothpaste when Zach really preferred cinnamon? No.
How many times had Zach kicked boyfriends out of the house the second they complained about his shut-in brother? No looking back, hands wiped clean.
Zach looked over at the empty space next to him, then angrily grabbed the extra pillow, because he could. He punched it and fluffed it, then stuffed it uncomfortably under his head. Because, fuck-he had never done any of those things for Joey to realize. Realization had never been in the equation.
But Zach was still bitter, all the same. He knew Joey was grateful, and he knew Joey was always trying his best, and he knew Joey had offered more than once to pitch in his fair share. But for Zach, it had never felt right. He was… constantly in a state of begging for forgiveness.
Zach bit his lip-fuck no. There was no time to cry about that. It was long over and far done.
And yet… on Joey’s 25th birthday, when he had hugged Zach and said, ”I’m so happy now”, gratitude in the strength of Joey’s arms, Zach had always wondered why he, himself, wasn’t.
Maybe he was more traumatized by Pittsburgh than Joey was.
Zach rolled onto his back, shielding his eyes again, and had the momentary impulse of curling into someone. Chris had kind of forced cuddling sometimes, since Zach didn’t like being spooned from behind, but there had been the compromise of leaning across Chris’ chest. Zach didn’t like to be held, but he did like the warmth beneath his stomach, his nose buried into the crook of Chris’ neck.
He wouldn’t have to explain his feelings. Before, he could curl inward and feel the fingers at the back of his neck, delicate circles as he fell asleep. Before, it had just been good enough to exist, to fall into bed together and ask no questions.
Why weren’t things good enough, anymore? Why did Joey have to run away with that… person, while Chris had actually had the audacity to say they weren’t boyfriends.
“Fuck him,” Zach muttered, turning over. So what if they had been? The last Zach knew, boyfriends didn’t have an emotional clause of you must admit all your secrets and indiscretions or thus invalidate this stupid fucking contract.
Zach sat up, pointing at himself in a full-length mirror across from the bed. “We were fucking boyfriends, you ass-twat.”
Which Zach could immediately imagine Chris replying, Aren’t those two different areas of the body?
“Uggghh.” Zach jumped off the bed in a growl of frustration, immediately pacing the room. Fuck Chris, fuck Joey, fuck Natalia-fuck everyone on the planet, including himself.
If Zach had known his brother would get abducted by a She-Demon, or that he’d accidentally gain and lose a boyfriend, he never would have auditioned for the Cirque in Vegas. He would have dragged Joey by the ear to another corner of the universe-to Russia, or even Antarctica. Those would probably have been far enough. Cold as fuck, but far enough.
Zach held up his hands to no one particular. “I’m done-I’m done!” He was going to complete his Cirque tour and then get the hell out of Dodge.
Which would make for a very long and lonely year. Night after night of seeing Joey cuddle with Natalia in some foreign city, then seeing Chris probably move on to somebody else.
Zach looked at the clock-4:56 am. Close enough that he could go slash a trampoline undetected, if he wanted to.
Masterlist | Act IV (Part Two)