I don’t know what I thought would happen.
It’s a lie. He knows what he thought. He thought that he could slowly get Austin used to the idea of them being together, proving that he’s different now. That he’s good for something outside of sex. He had thought he could be sneaky about it, demonstrating instead of talking, because Austin is nothing if not stubborn. He had thought he could just take the inches he was given and use them well, doing any little thing that could help his image in Austin’s eyes.
Clearly, he was wrong. If Sunday was anything to go by, Austin is realizing what’s been happening between them. His excuse about being tired from work is just that—an excuse, meant to give him time to convince himself he’s not interested. By the end of it, Leo fully expects to be turned away for good. If he can’t do something to show Austin that he cares, he’ll lose his chance at ever trying again.
But what do I do?
He knows he has one week. One week to give Austin space, during the last few days of their team-up. After that week, he’ll only have the last few days on his contract before he won’t be signed on with the company anymore. He won’t be able to come back to work unless he gets picked up for another project. There won’t be an easy way to make Austin feel comfortable with patching things up, never mind moving forward. He knows Austin won’t agree to a neutral meeting outside of work—they’ve barely gone drinking or clubbing with work friends, never mind shared a public date.
And he can’t invite himself over to make Austin dinner and try to explain how he wants to make things better. He gets the feeling it won’t go over well.
He starts making a mental list of everything he’s tried, trying to come up with something else to do. He’s not about to give up without a fight.
***
MONDAY COMES AND IT’S just as awkward as he expected it to be. This time, he’s acutely aware that Austin is struggling with himself—which makes Leo even more determined to make things easier.
It’s easy for him to create space during the early hours. They’re technically supposed to work together for at least two hours, which they’d been doing in the morning, but he gets the feeling Austin wants to put it off. He lets it slide, pretending things have always been this way, and occupies himself with completing small tasks for Dean.
“I can’t believe you actually know how to clean up disk space,” the man laughs, leaning in the doorway of his office.
“Me either. Guess it was just my mom rubbing off on me.”
“She works with computers?”
“Yup. She’s a developer, really—works with software and consulting, too. I always regretted not wanting to do that. I know it pays well.”
“You’re right about that,” Dean smiles, passing him a paper. “Those are the logins you’ll need. If you could go through the computers, it would really help. I’d have Katie do it but she’s juggling our clients right now.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“I keep telling them to clean the space after their projects,” Dean says as he walks away, “but they’re not good listeners. Animators, you know?”
“I know,” Leo says, raising his eyebrows. Boy howdy, do I know.
He likes feeling useful. It’s nice to be able to put his skills to use even if they’re not on par with the others in the office. He slips into the project room, starting at the far end, trying to give Austin some space before he gets to him. He’ll know when I’m getting closer. He can leave if he needs to. He almost hopes he doesn’t. Not that he’ll try to talk to him—he knows better than that. He respects Austin’s privacy as much as he respects the man’s work ethic. Business hours.
Still, it makes him feel a little lost to be close but unable to talk. It’s like he’s a child again, being punished for something by a teacher and not allowed to talk to his only friend.
“Hey. You good?” Rowan asks quietly. The question startles him and he blinks, realizing he’s typing the same password into the computer over and over again.
“Yeah. Um—yeah, just zoned out. Guess I stayed up too late,” he says, smiling. Well, not my only friend.
“Quiet today,” Rowan murmurs, keeping his voice low so that their conversation stays private. He watches Leo navigate the desktop, going through the motions. “Do you want to go out for lunch?”
It’s an offer of escape. He wonders if it will work. Rowan’s already, in theatrical fashion, declared himself a non-threat to Austin. If they leave, it won’t really mean anything bad. In fact, it might show him I’m willing to go out of my way to give him room.
“Sure,” Leo agrees, feeling a little better, “you choose.”
“Italian,” Rowan says quickly. “Carbs for heartbreak and moping. You gotta have energy to keep up the kicked-puppy face.”
Leo smacks him on the back of the head, but he’s already feeling better. I’m picking up Austin’s bad habits, he thinks to himself. He’s supposed to be the one that’s okay. He already had his chance to act like an idiot in their relationship. Right now, he knows that Austin needs him to be constant. If he can prove that he’s the one thing that won’t change, maybe he can get another chance. A final try to get it right.
That, or he’ll be eating spaghetti for months.
***
BY WEDNESDAY, HE’S already suffering.
The team-up is kind of suffering, too. They spend most of their time hyperaware of each other; Austin barely watches Leo, which is the point of the whole process. Leo takes to leaving for extended ‘vocal breaks’ just to escape the pressure, never mind giving Austin space. He’s frustrated that he can’t draw Austin out more, hoping the break somehow makes the other man realize what he’s missing out on.
“Dean bought breakfast,” Lina tells him as he walks in. Great, he thinks, just another person I’m inevitably going to let down.
Not that he has to. He thinks maybe he’s wrong—after all, his boss can’t be getting it wrong every time. He skirts around Lina to enter the lounge, finding what appear to be to be croissant-wrapped hot dog bites on the table. They don’t look half bad. He loads a plate, deciding there’s no harm in faking it a tiny bit.
When he leaves the lounge, Austin happens to be walking by with Dean. They both look surprised for a moment and then Dean beams, excited. Austin just stares at the plate in Leo’s hand. Here goes nothing.
He very deliberately sticks an entire roll in his mouth, keeping his expression neutral, standing in the doorway as if he’s waiting for them to pass. When they don’t he starts, holding up a hand to disappear back into the lounge. He grabs a cup of coffee, nonchalant, and smiles briefly at them as he walks back out.
“Sorry,” he manages, swallowing the lump—which is honestly not as bad as the bagels. “Forgot breakfast.”
The moment he sees a smile flicker at the corner of Austin’s mouth he knows he did the right thing. Even if his stomach will probably hate him later.
“Well, that’s what they’re there for. Actually, do you have some time? I wanted to talk to you.”
“Sure,” he says. He decides to take a chance then, winking at Austin as he follows Dean to his office. He thinks it bodes well when Austin watches him go, some sort of contemplation in his expression.
Dean’s office is a veritable wasteland of boxes and project folders. They’re stacked in every available space, some marked and others open. Leo raises an eyebrow at the mess, maneuvering towards the desk. Only one of the chairs is visible—even then, it has papers on it.
“Sorry about the mess,” Dean apologizes. “I’m in the middle of documenting and filing hard copies of everything. It’s a pain but I like keeping track—one freak accident with a computer, and now I’m paranoid.”
“Makes sense,” Leo grins, balancing his plate on one knee. “What did you want to see me about?”
“Well, I’ve gone through the project with some of our lead designers and the client; I know you’re scheduled through next week, but we actually won’t need to make any adjustments that we can tell.”
“Oh,” he says, the word leaving his mouth without any thought. He has no idea how to respond. “That’s...good?”
“It is,” Dean laughs. “You worked very well. If we do need anything, though, I’ll make sure to call and work around your schedule. You’ll still receive the amount promised since it was in your contract. We’re closing it as of Friday, though.”
“So, my contract is through Friday?”
“Yes. I’ll have a testimonial written up for you before you leave work on Friday—I’ll include my contact information so that you can list me. I’d like to work with you again, if the situation arises.”
“Of course,” Leo replies, on autopilot. “It was great working here. Thank you for the heads-up.”
He smiles and nods, leaving Dean’s office feeling curiously numb. I knew it was going to end, he thinks, but there’s still a shock to being finished early. He had expected things to last longer, and now that he’s almost done, he realizes he hasn’t planned for what comes next.
I guess I should get contact information, he thinks, wondering how to go about asking. Rowan will be easy. The sound studio workers should be around, he thinks, and if he gets to them before lunch they can probably send him their information. His practical mind reminds him that he doesn’t want to leave without connections.
Social ones, too, come to mind. He wants to be able to talk to Rowan and Lina; they’ve been good friends during his time. Katie already has his information. He thinks he should still talk to them anyway—give them a heads-up about his impending departure. Maybe plan a get-together after the project is done.
And Austin?
He has no clue how to approach him. Here he was, thinking he’d have another week to convince Austin, but it’s turned into two days. He knows he doesn’t have a chance. If Austin doesn’t change his mind by himself, what chance does Leo have of making him? The realization comes crashing down on his shoulders, and he carefully puts his food in the project room, waving at the gathered animators and slipping back out as fast as possible. He manages to hold himself together until he gets to the bathroom, sliding the lock into place with a steady hand.
As soon as he stands there, staring at the white walls and door, he feels his throat start to close. He tries to smother his voice with a hand, shocked at the small noise that escapes. He barely realizes he’s crying until his hand is wet, tears falling onto it in warm drops. You’re being stupid, he tells himself, turning in a circle to try and calm himself. You’re not moving across the country. You’ll see them all again. Somehow, the thought doesn’t comfort him. He perches on the edge of the toilet, deciding to let it happen, crying himself out as much as he needs. It isn’t long before he’s laughing at himself.
What am I, in sixth grade? Who cries in a bathroom? He shakes his head and wipes his eyes, standing and leaving the stall. His eyes are barely red when he looks in the mirror, running the water cold. He cups water in his hands and holds it over his eyes, hoping he can stop the redness before swelling starts. The last thing he wants to do is have to explain to the others in the office why his eyes are red. No big deal, guys, I just panicked because my contract is up early and I’m not coming back after Friday. Oh, and I may lose my chance with Austin forever.
“Get it together,” he tells his reflection, squinting. He looks fine. “You’re not finished yet, drama queen.”