Chapter 8

 

Rubbing Konnor's back, Lachlan grabbed his cold glass from the table as they sat on the decking together. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah. Rico's right; Grayson and Darren are big enough to handle their own issues. I don't need to panic about them while I have my own stuff to focus on,” he agreed, leaning to the side, where he lay his head on Lachlan's shoulder. He gazed off towards where Darren was sitting next to Giovanni, cuddled into his arm as they talked over his drawings for Casen's museum exhibit.

They were a cute couple; attentive without going overboard and yet independent in their own ways. Lachlan had never really had that with Cormag until well into their relationship, when he'd learned he could stand on his own two feet without making his boyfriend feel unwanted or surplus. But he imagined it helped that Darren and Giovanni had both been forced to become strong and independent in their own right, well before meeting each other. They walked into their relationship already knowing that the other could stand up for himself, would speak freely and that they were going to have to fight for what they wanted.

Lachlan hadn't had to fight against Cormag until his boyfriend tried to break up with him. Even after that, it took months before their next lovers quarrel. Giovanni and Darren, on the other hand, started off not being in a relationship, then arguing about that, while somehow stumbling into becoming a couple. He figured arguing was part of the charm.

“Good. Now that we have that sorted, why don't we tackle something difficult?” he challenged, with a cheeky grin.

“Like what?” Konnor chuckled to himself.

Lachlan shrugged. “Who knows? How about my next novel? I've got myself into a pickle with the plot and could use some help,” he confessed, smiling to himself at the way he could feel how much better Konnor was after that phone call to Rico. It was in the set of his shoulders, the lack of tension in his back and the slow, deep breath he released as he settled into his chair.

“You, in a pickle? Never!” he claimed, with mock protest. He grinned up at Lachlan and hugged his arm the same way that Darren hugged Giovanni's. “What's it about?”

“It's called Adronitis, which is the frustration of how long it takes to get to know someone. It's about a forbidden romance,” Lachlan admitted, feeling a little nostalgic about it, since he'd based it partly on his own feelings from when he met Cormag. “It's my first fantasy novel, so there are dragons and mages, all with magical powers and abilities. But there's this student, who is totally in love with his teacher, and he just can't wait for his schooling to be over so they can be together. Because all his teacher does is say, ‘This can't happen. You're my student and you're too young’,” he explained.

Konnor sighed and hummed contemplatively. “That's kind of sad.”

“Right? But my pickle is this – I can't write fantasy for shit!” he revealed, laughing at his own stupidity. “I mean, I have all these ideas for it and how it will work, but there's just no damned way I can write it. I've tried a million times and it won't work.”

For a long time, Konnor was quiet. It was that thoughtful quiet though, the one that Lachlan was so familiar with. It made his heart light and his shoulders sag into a more comfortable position.

Eventually, as the noise of conversation washed over them from their friends around the decking area, Konnor cleared his throat. “Is there a way to adapt it into what you want to do? Like, if you can't write it as a fantasy, is there another option?” he wondered, turning to look Lachlan in the eye. He had his serious face on, so he gave it some thought.

And, actually, when he thought about it, there was one way.

“Well, it's kind of young adult, with the focus on how the teenager deals with being in love with a teacher and the bad guy in school ragging on him all the time,” Lachlan confessed, meeting his eye with a tentative smile. “But I could maybe turn it contemporary and just remove all the 'magic' stuff,” he agreed, though it would take a heck of a lot of work and rewrites. Sitting up, he contemplated the risks and eventual outcome. “And, thinking about it, it really is a romance, at heart, so I could make it a full-on romance without much effort,” he explained, at length. “So, if I make it contemporary, it could be one of my first young adult contemporary romances, since the rest have all been crime related?”

Konnor grinned and stretched out his legs in front of him. “Sounds like a plan. Problem solved; turn the fantasy rubbish into a super sweet, contemporary romance. Maybe you could nix the young adult stuff and make it super-hot, with the teacher?” he suggested, releasing his arm to prop both hands behind his head, totally relaxed and at ease. “Or, they both want to get super-hot with each other, but you keep it young adult and just add a lot of great flirting and innuendo. Then you have the whole “you're too young” problem still on your books.”

Lachlan nodded, pretty sure it was a brilliant idea. If he could make the two MC's into a May/December romance, while adding a twist of contemporary high-school drama, he could really turn an awful, difficult idea into something he could run with. Because, lord knew that although he read enough fantasy novels, he had never really had the knack to properly plot and describe the worlds they required.

For some reason, contemporary was his wheelhouse. It was where he felt most comfortable and he couldn't help but think that Konnor may have just solved his other problem. Of whether he should risk forcing the 'fantasy' issue to the very end of the novel, just to see if it could work.

The word 'rubbish' he'd tacked on wasn't hurtful. In fact, Lachlan had to think that Konnor used it as encouragement, but it was also part of his personal preference. Fantasy and science fiction novels were always too long for his liking, demanding more attention, so he wasn't surprised that he didn't want to read one, even if Lachlan wrote it. By encouraging him to steer away from the genre, he was allowing himself to read the story, but also trying to convince Lachlan that 'fantasy' wasn't the route to go. In his own weird way, of course. He wouldn't be Konnor if he didn't.

“I should hire you as my professional muse,” he decided, realising that no one could spur on his creative juices like Konnor. Cormag tried and Casen helped, Darren loved talking stories with him and even Grayson attempted to chip in once in a while, but no one helped him get his head together in the same way Konnor could.

Konnor laughed and lifted his head to kiss his cheek. “You always make me feel better. Grayson makes me feel a million bucks, but you make me feel like the best friend in the whole world. And, when you're not here, that's what I hate the most...not feeling like your best friend,” he whispered.

Lachlan turned to stare at him, smiling at how sweet he was when he let his vulnerabilities show. “You're always my best friend, whether we're together or not. Even all that time we spent apart, you were still my best friend. Then and now. Forever,” he promised.

The way his friend smiled at him, before laying his head down on his shoulder, made him realise just how much he loved the guy. It wasn't the kind of love that needed kisses, sex or intimate touches. It was the kind that meant they'd be there for each other, beyond anyone else, beyond whatever might happen in their lives, beyond anyone and everyone who could ever enter their lives.

When he and Cormag fought, the first person he called was Konnor. When his life felt like it was falling apart, when he hit writer's block or whenever he needed to remember he wasn't alone in the world, Lachlan could ditch life and escape with his best friend, to reconnect to the one person who saw right into his soul.

Cormag owned his heart and soul, protecting them with his big hands and strong body. Grayson held Konnor together, loved him unconditionally, and was the love of his life. And that was all exactly how it should be. But they'd always be each other's best friends. They'd always hold each other up, answer the phone at any time day or night, go running at a minute's notice, hold the precious secrets safe and bury the bodies if necessary.

And that was how it should be, too.