Embracing the Tension Ch. 11

In his unguarded moments, Erik let his mind wonder whether he and Ryan would ever have a wedding themselves. It would be nice to celebrate their relationship with those closest to them, but when Erik thought about his parents and siblings, he dismissed the possibility; they would never approve, let alone show up for the event. And without them there, Erik found himself rather indifferent to the idea.

And now, as they sat through speech after speech after speech, Erik lost track of the number of glasses of wine he downed. By the time the DJ took over the evening, he was well past drunk and a little unsteady on his feet as he dragged Ryan out onto the dance floor. He wanted to dance, to move and to feel Ryan's body next to his. He wanted to forget about his family, moving to Toronto, and all the uncertainties that lay ahead.

Tonight was for having fun, and Erik was determined to have fun.

The music was mainly top-40 pop songs, which wasn't necessarily Erik's jam, but he decided he could work with it. The bass was loud enough that he could feel it pulsing through the air, and he let it drown out all the worries that had taken over his mind.

Ryan removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt. There was something about Ryan's forearms, dusted with dark hair, exposed from the elbow down that Erik just couldn't get enough of. He kept trailing his fingers across Ryan's skin, intertwining their fingers, nuzzling at Ryan's palm.

When Ryan buried his fingers in Erik's hair and pulled them close, the rough treatment sent shocks straight to Erik's dick, and he didn't hesitate to rub it against Ryan's thigh. The growl he heard in his ear made it clear that Ryan had felt that bulge; Erik rotated his hips and ground himself even harder against Ryan. It was like the rest of the wedding didn't exist; it was just the two of them on the dance floor, sweat soaking through their shirts and hard body parts bumping up against hard body parts.

At some point, someone broke through the little world they created for each other—Erik couldn't figure out who it was—and dragged them off to the open bar. A shot of some sort was thrust into his hand, and he threw it back when everyone else did. Then they were back out on the dance floor, jumping up and down to the beat that had taken over the party.

Back and forth they went—to the bar for a shot of some disgusting mix of alcohol and then back to the dance floor to sweat it all out. Erik didn't remember when it became difficult to stand on his own two feet, let alone walk in a straight line. But at some point, Ryan became his crutch, propping him up with a shoulder under his arm and hands around his waist.

"I love you so much, you know that?" The words sounded slurred even to Erik's drunk ears. He held Ryan's face between his hands and tried to get his lips and tongue to cooperate. "I. Love. You."

"I know you do. I love you, too." Ryan chuckled in a way that felt too dismissive for what Erik was feeling.

"No!" He stopped in his tracks, refusing to be budged and stumbling over his own feet even as Ryan tried to push him toward the door. "I love you!"

Ryan shushed him, but that only made Erik more adamant. "I love you! I want to be with you! I want to live in the same house and raise Chloe and...and...and maybe other kids! I want a little boy named Nathaniel! He could have my eyes and your smile."

The image of the little boy materialized in Erik's mind, and his fingers drifted to Ryan's lips as they tilted in that lopsided grin Erik loved so much.

"Okay, babe. We can get a little boy. Not sure how we're going to find one with your eyes and my smile, but we'll try to make it work." Ryan nudged him forward again, and Erik complied only because he was so distracted by his imaginary son.

"We can take them to the aquarium! And go skating! And we'll be a family!" Erik gasped dramatically, so loudly that Ryan stopped their forward progression to a halt.

"What? What's wrong?" Ryan asked.

"We can be a family!" Erik exclaimed, ignoring how Ryan rolled his eyes. "No! It's true! We can be a family! We should get married and be a real family! Will you marry me? Say you'll marry me. Please?"

Erik held onto Ryan's shoulders as if he were drowning; Ryan was the life raft, and the answer to his question would determine whether Erik could climb aboard and be saved. He couldn't figure out why Ryan was glancing around them, as if the other people in the room had anything to do with their relationship.

"Please? Please, Ryan. Please say you'll marry me." Erik wasn't above begging, and his attempt to drop to a knee felt more like he was falling into a sink hole.

Ryan's strong hands pulled him back up.

"We can talk about this in the morning, okay?" Ryan said under his breath, but Erik didn't want to wait until the morning.

"No. Let's talk about this now. I want to know. Do you want to marry me?"

"Erik, come on. It's late. We're both drunk. This isn't really the right time to be talking about this." Ryan looked to serious, speaking quietly but with such sternness that it broke through Erik's determination and triggered some hidden well of tears.

He pulled away from Ryan's arms only to stumble and stagger against a nearby wall. His cheeks were wet, and he couldn't breathe through his nose, and he felt like curling up on the floor to die a slow death.

"Erik." Ryan was still right there despite Erik's attempts to push him away.

"No!" Erik turned his face into the wall to hide. "You don't want me. I waited too long, and now you don't want me."

"Erik."

Hands on his shoulders tried to turn him around, but he refused. Ryan didn't want him. Ryan was happy and settled and had a beautiful family to go home to every night. Meanwhile, Erik was still meandering along in life, hoping to hit it big but getting nowhere. He was still trying to live that impressive big-city life, pretending that he was more than he actually was. In reality, he was no more than the little boy from Utah looking for a place to call home.

"Erik!"

"Go away!" He didn't mean it. He didn't want Ryan to go away. But admitting that he was too much of a coward to chase after the thing he wanted most in life was too embarrassing. It exposed him for the fraud he was, and he couldn't bear for Ryan to see that.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Erik!"

Strong hands tore him away from the wall and Erik yelped when he was treated to a couple sharp slaps across his cheek.

"Hey, stop it. Whatever is running through your head right now, stop it. You're drunk and you're probably not going to remember any of this tomorrow, anyway. So, let's just get back to our room okay?"

Erik sniffled. He couldn't help it; his nose was running. But he nodded because he didn't like the feeling that Ryan was angry with him. He let Ryan support him as they made their way outside to where a bus was waiting to take the wedding guests back to the hotel, and he nearly had to crawl up the steps on all fours.

Erik collapsed into the first empty seat and tried his best to curl his tall frame against the window. Ryan slipped in beside him, and a rush of something warm and comforting flooded his heart when Ryan pulled him away from the window. He snuggled up to Ryan as much as the tight space would allow and held his breath as Ryan sighed heavily.

As the rocking motion of the bus lulled him to sleep, Erik clutched Ryan's shirt and promised himself that he would do anything—anything—to make sure Ryan never left him.

###

Erik sat on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands and trying not to breathe too quickly; even that slight movement triggered the hammering monkeys in his head and made him want to hurl. Why did he drink so much last night? What did he drink last night?

The last coherent memory he had of the wedding was being wrapped up in Ryan's arms on the dance floor. After that, there were some snippets of doing shots, the pulse of the bass music, and the ringing in his ears. He must have lost several hours at least, and he had absolutely no recollection of how they got back to the hotel.

Ryan wasn't around to tell him if he'd made a fool of himself. He had been alone in bed when he woke up, and the bathroom was silent.

Moving at a snail's pace, Erik unfolded himself and held onto the nightstand as he rose to his feet. The change in elevation caused his brain to throb in his head, but he soldiered on. He winced as his feet touched the cold bathroom tile, and he had to wait for his stomach to settle after bending down to reach the knobs for the shower.

Finally under the spray, he lifted his face up into the water and just stood, waiting for all the aches and pains to wash away. If only his brain could be washed as easily as his body, but no such luck. As the shower woke him to the light of day, his brain also marched out the same old laundry list of dilemmas that were making his life miserable. Apparently one drunken night of dancing and partying didn't actually resolve any of his problems. It just made him feel more pathetic the morning after.

Erik finished his shower, dressed for the day and was turning the TV on to catch the news, but Ryan still had not returned from wherever he had disappeared to. He made a cup of bad coffee in the hotel room's coffee machine and settled in the armchair to check his phone. No messages from Ryan, but there was a voicemail from an unknown number.

"Hey, it's Buck Cohen. We need another associate producer. If you want the job, it's yours. Call me."

Erik stared at his phone as if the shiny rectangular thing was playing a practical joke on him. Then he played the message again to make sure he had heard it correctly.

Buck Cohen. From Shadowbox. Was offering him a job? Had Cohen even called the right guy?

And yet, if it was real, the offer would change everything. Shadowbox was a great company, producing really cutting-edge films. Erik doubted they would pay very well, but it would be a steady income. Besides, he could split expenses with Ryan, and Toronto was a lot cheaper than New York.

It was almost too good to be true. Like some movie where an implausible solution falls from the sky to save the day. It couldn't be that easy.

Erik listened to the recording a third time and was about to call back when he realized it was Sunday. He checked the time stamp on his missed call—just a few hours earlier. If Cohen was calling him on a Sunday, then he could call back on a Sunday, too, right?

His thought was interrupted by the door opening.

"Hey, babe!" Erik called out. The throbbing in his head was masked by his newfound excitement.

"Hi." Ryan eyed him almost warily as he set a McDonald's paper bag and a tray with a couple of coffees down on the table. "You're up?"

"Yeah, god, I'm so hungover." Erik contemplated getting up from his seat, but decided against it.

Ryan nodded as he opened the bag. "You were pretty wasted last night."

"I must have been, considering the condition of my head. I hope I didn't do anything too idiotic." He took the breakfast sandwich Ryan handed to him and groaned as the aroma of grease and fat greeted his nostril.

"You don't remember anything?" Ryan paused with one hand inside the bag.

"Not much, to be honest." Erik took a bite of the Egg McMuffin, his eyes drifting shut at the salty goodness.

"Nothing at all?"

Erik glanced up at Ryan's tone. "Why? Did I do something stupid? Oh god, what did I do?"

"Nothing." Ryan shrugged and settled on the other armchair with his breakfast.

Ryan was the worst liar in the world. He wore the guiltiest look on his face, couldn't look Erik in the eye, and curled in on himself as if trying to hide his own shame.

"Come on, what did I do?" Erik prodded. "I know it must have been bad. Just tell me. I can take it."

Ryan took a big bite out of his sandwich and shook his head.

"I'm just going to keep asking. You know how I don't let these things go."

Ryan looked up then, a touch of annoyance in his glare. "Nothing."

Erik still didn't believe him, but the tone of Ryan's voice suggested he wasn't going to discuss it—and that was that. New worries blossomed in Erik's mind. It must have been really bad if even Ryan was too embarrassed to make fun of him about it.

They finished their breakfasts in silence, and Erik washed his down with the coffee Ryan brought back. "I'm sorry if I did something that embarrassed you or anything."

Ryan gaze felt hot and heavy as he scrutinized Erik. For a moment, Erik thought Ryan might actually tell him what happened, but then Ryan turned back to his coffee and said nothing.

"So, um." Erik had been thrilled to share the news about Shadowbox with Ryan, but in the short time it had taken them to inhale their breakfasts, he suddenly didn't know how to broach the topic. "I got a voicemail from Shadowbox. You remember them? They make those cool documentaries."

"Yeah, you met with them when you were in Toronto last time, right?"

"Yeah, that's them. So, uh, the CEO left a voicemail on my phone. He said they need a new associate producer and that I could have the job if I wanted." He left it at that, the implications hanging loose and undefined.

"Oh, that's good, right? It's a good opportunity?"

Erik's heart hammered in his chest, and he half-wondered whether he was experiencing heartburn from eating his breakfast too fast. But Ryan's look of confusion and hopefulness, all topped with that signature reservation, made Erik second-guess himself.

"I mean, they're a great firm. They're doing great work."

"That's good."

An awkwardness that they hadn't experienced between them in a long time made the room feel too small and the TV too loud. It stretched on for several beats, and Erik didn't understand what was keeping him from just spilling everything that was on his mind. The words were stuck in his chest, right where his heart raced so quickly it was starting to make him nauseous.

"They're based in Toronto, right?" Ryan finally asked, eyes studying the coffee he held in his hands.

"Yeah, they are."

Ryan nodded, and when he spoke again, his voice a dropped a couple of decibels. "And the position is based in Toronto?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Again, that awkward silence.

"Is it something you'd be interested in doing? The job—I mean, the job description." That coffee cup must have been fascinating, because Ryan's gaze didn't budge.

"Well, I think it is. Honestly, there wasn't any information in the voicemail. I'll need to ask them for the details." When Ryan didn't respond, Erik continued. "Actually, I was just about to call him when you got back."

"Oh, sorry." Ryan grabbed the rolled-up sandwich wrappers and tossed them back into the paper bag. "I'll go take a walk or something if you want to call him."

He was halfway across the room already before Erik could react. "No, wait."

Ryan tossed the garbage into the bin and turned with his hands on his hips, eyes still glued to the floor.

Erik fought the pounding in his head and went to Ryan, taking his hands and pulling him onto the bed. They sat sideways, facing each other, hands clasped between them.

"Look..." he paused as his stomach heaved, threatening to expel the breakfast he had just eaten. Fear sliced through him, thick and visceral until it felt like all his organs had been rearranged inside his body. Something had a stranglehold on his lungs, and every breath he tried to take seemed to tighten the noose even more.

He opened his mouth and words started flowing out. "I... it... it doesn't matter what the job is." He didn't know where the words were coming from or what part of his half-functioning brain had managed to string them together. But they had chosen that moment to start pouring out of him, so he just let them out.

"I don't really care about the job. I mean, I do care about the job, but that's not the point. The job just makes it convenient, an easy excuse for rationalizing the move. But it's not real."

Erik took a deep breath, forcing his lungs to fill with oxygen before he blacked out. Then he squeezed Ryan's hands, because he needed the connection, because he needed to know that it wasn't just him stepping out into the void, but that Ryan was there to catch him no matter what. Ryan squeezed back and kept his grip tight.

"I want to move to Toronto. I want to move and be with you and see where this thing goes, because it's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm pretty sure nothing's ever going to beat it."

Erik glanced up, and for the first time in his life, he couldn't read Ryan's expression. Panic exploded in his heart. "I mean, if you're still open to that. I know we've talked about it before, but I don't know if you've changed your mind. If you don't want me to move there anymore, that's okay. I mean, I might still take the job, but I can find my own place to live—"

Ryan stopped him with a hand to the back of Erik's neck and a kiss hard enough to make Erik's head spin. He was sure he passed out for a split second before Ryan let him go and his circulatory system managed to re-oxygenate his brain.

Ryan had a giant smile on his face, eyes crinkling, teeth showing. "I've always wanted you. I don't think I'll ever stop wanting you. Whatever gave you an idea otherwise, you can just burn it, okay?"

Erik nodded, tears of joy stinging his eyes. "Okay." He sniffled.

A chuckle that bordered on giggles erupted from Ryan. "And we can help raise Chloe, and we can go adopt a Nathaniel. Not sure I can do anything about getting a little boy who has both of our genes. And we can definitely go to the aquarium and go skating."

Erik frowned at the teasing grin Ryan was giving him. Who the hell was Nathaniel, and what did their genes have anything to do with anything? "What?"

Ryan's smile deepened. "You're going to have to do a better job at proposing, though. Because that was the least romantic shit I've ever seen."

"What?" Erik sat up straight, grimacing as his head protested his sudden movement. "What are you talking about?"

Ryan threw his head back in a full-body laugh and ended up collapsed back on the bed. "You really don't remember any of it."

Erik smacked him on the leg. "What are you talking about? Did I propose to you last night?"

Ryan didn't answer, but instead pulled Erik down to him. Snuggled into Ryan's side, Erik racked his memory for anything resembling a proposal but came up blank.

"Oh, babe, you should have seen yourself. It would have been kind of epic if it wasn't so sad."

Erik groaned. Maybe he didn't want to remember any of it.

"Don't worry. I didn't say yes."

The thought hadn't even occurred to Erik: would Ryan want to get married? He had been so engrossed in his own issues during the wedding, he hadn't even stopped to consider what Ryan wanted.

He propped himself up on an elbow to look down at Ryan. "Do you want to get married?"

Ryan frowned at him. "Are you proposing again?"

"No! I mean, I don't know. I'm not not proposing. I just realized we've never talked about it before." His hand was flat against Ryan's chest, and under his palm he could feel the rapid beating of Ryan's heart.

"I don't know. Maybe. Perhaps someday." Ryan whispered with full eye contact.

"Yeah," Erik responded. "Perhaps someday."

It was Ryan who looked away first, but his heart continued to tap out a rapid rhythm under Erik's hand. "So, are you serious about moving to Toronto?"

With a couple of fingers on Ryan's chin, he turned Ryan's face back toward his. "Yeah, I am."

He could see the skepticism in Ryan's study of him, the beginnings of hope battling with caution.

"I am." Erik repeated himself, determined to make good on his promise, even if Ryan doubted him.