Secrets

Part Four: THP -- The Breaking Point

January 18, 2015

Chester stopped at half court, tucking the ball under his right arm while unscrewing the lid to his water with the other hand. He heard Dave yell something in his direction, but he didn't know what the words were. He couldn't think. He needed a moment to himself.

Mike's sweaty body had brushed against him just moments ago, setting of a chain of reactions that had left Chester an emotional, panting, half-hard mess. It was getting harder and harder to not pull Mike into a quiet room somewhere and just tell him. Tell him all of the things he'd told Talinda, the nighttime confessions, the kisses, the 'I love yous.' He figured if Mike ever got ready to confront those subconscious feelings head on, he first person he'd let know would be Chester. Mike would never go to Anna with those thoughts. Mike wasn't even consciously owning them.

He sighed in frustration. The last five months had been a balancing act of emotions, small moments that slowly added up to the breaking point Chester found himself at now. As he guzzled down half the bottle of water, he watched Mike from the corner of his eyes. He could see the darker patch of sweat on his charcoal gray shirt, on his chest and under his arms, and he could see his knees and calves beneath his basketball shorts, parts of his body that rarely came out in public. He felt his gaze being pulled to Mike's backwards hat, and he let his mind flip through images from the past few months, both on tour and at home.

Mike watching him foam roll on the floor of the dressing room.

Mike passing him soy sauce at a restaurant and their fingertips brushing against each other.

Mike harmonizing Final Masquerade on the fly at a meet and greet, the way their eyes locked when they met across Brad's guitar.

Mike laying next to him in a hotel bed, night after night, their fingers linked together, Mike's breaths falling on his face.

Mike in the mountains at Christmas when they'd taken the families skiing... Mike with pure white snow falling on his dark hair.

Mike's brilliant smile in the home studio. In the car. In the airplane. In the tour bus.

Always, the way Mike looked at him.

After he'd cowardly confessed his love for Mike while the emcee was sleeping, life had continued. They'd finished up the Carnivores tour, toured Europe, gone home for the holidays, and here they were. Heading out on the North American tour for the latest album, and Chester was feeling the weight of all the secrets between them. Not just the secrets they knowingly shared, but all the things he was keeping from Mike. Confiding in Talinda had helped a little, but the closeness, the proximity of Mike, day in and day out for the next several months seemed daunting. The tour was going to be hard. Every day things got harder. Every day, Chester got a little bit closer to just putting an end to their sleeping arrangement and drawing a clearer line, but one look at Mike had him falling back on his resolve.

Just like now. He'd felt Mike's hot, sweaty body next to his and he'd needed to step away, but nothing that came to his mind helped the way he was feeling. Instead of calming his racing heart, his boiling blood, the thoughts ignited him. All the thoughts that came to him only made him desire more closeness, more attention, more time from Mike. Mike, who was tossing up shots from the free throw line with ease, despite the fact that they hardly ever played basketball anymore.

Chester screwed the lid on his water and set it down, dribbling the ball back to the three point line and watching the emcee. It was almost as though Mike were trying to ignore him, he was so concentrated on what was happening on the court.

But Mike wasn't particularly interested in basketball. When Chester had settled on his new plan to work out every day before the shows, he reluctantly decided he should get involved, too, despite his general apprehension. Three kids and time in the studio wasn't helping his physique, and he was more than a little self conscious about his lack of definition, especially compared to Chester. Each night when Chester came to bed, covered head to toe in his fuzzy pajamas of choice, Mike hesitated to take off his own shirt. Deep down, he knew his body was fine, but he wasn't cut like Chester. He couldn't count his abs in the mirror, and next to the vocalist he looked soft. A teddy bear next to Adonis.