When he gets into the office, he feels better. Far better than he has before. The weight has been lifted off his shoulders, a calm haze in its place. He’s already excited, plans flying through his mind. He knows what he wants to say when he sees Leo, and he knows what he wants to do—just a little tug, a smile, a suggestion.

“You’re energetic,” Lina says, laughing when he bursts into the conference room.

“Me? Guess I had too much coffee,” he says cheerily, dropping into an empty chair. It wheels a few inches before he stops it with his feet, carefully stowing his bag under the desk.

“Well, I guess that’s good,” one of the other animators says from a corner, head resting on the table. She sounds miserable. “Someone has to survive this.”

Lina laughs quietly, winking at Austin. He smiles back, leg jumping as he counts down the hours left until the voice actors get in. He feels like a kid waiting for Christmas. All he has to do is wait, plan, and be ready.

He leans back in his chair every hour or so, glancing out the door. It’s one of the few times he’s been glad the room is paneled in glass—he can see everything outside. A few people trickle in after lunch, sound system workers and the finishing team chatting with each other. He sees two voice actors come in, coffees in hand, and he waits.

“Austin. Can you come into my office?” Dean asks, breaking his concentration.

“Sure,” Austin says, quickly gathering up his notebook. I hope I see him before he sees me, he thinks. He hopes Leo doesn’t run off before he can see him.

“We’re in the middle of doing some hiring for our new project,” Dean says. “Or at least, I’m vetting some people. I know you’re usually scheduled to work with Leo during this time but I’d like you to sit with a potential voice actor.”

“Are you sure?” Crap. He can’t make it sound better. He knows he shouldn’t be questioning his boss; he should be jumping at the chance to prove himself. He’s being given a great chance. It’s just...

I wanted to see Leo.

He clears his throat, trying again.

“I mean—there are many experienced animators who might be better suited to the task, considering they’re more in tune with the company’s creative direction.”

“You know, Austin, I usually save this for after your first project is finished—but I get the feeling you might need to hear it now.”

“Sir?” Did I just lose my job? His heart beats faster. He feels sick.

“I usually trust my workers to keep a good eye on each other. I understand that they work well as a team—but there are always those with seniority. Like Lina and Rowan.”

“Yeah. They’ve been here a while. They’re good at keeping everyone in line.”

“Well, they usually pass on a general impression of new animators. They help me make a decision after the probation period.”

“That makes sense,” Austin volunteers. Get to the point, please.

“Lina says you’re quiet. A steady worker; you get along fairly well with everyone else. Professional but not uptight. Rowan...well, he’s my critic,” Dean laughs.

“I figured,” Austin smiles.

“He says you tend to get stuck in your head. Overwork yourself. You need to be reminded sometimes to step back and take a break. Not terrible traits, of course—just ones to be aware of.”

“I agree,” Austin says slowly. “I know I can overthink things. I like being efficient; when I sit down to work, I forget to get back up every once in a while. I think...maybe I’ve been learning more and more how to deal with that. How to look after myself, instead of my work.”

That’s what Leo was trying to teach me, he thinks. What he tried to show him, either by complimenting him or paying attention to what he needed or even being open to the kind of relationship Austin asked for. He could have said no, he thinks. Maybe Leo should have—now that he thinks back on it, Austin almost can’t believe he asked someone to be on call for sex. It seems so...crass, now. Certainly Leo deserved better, especially since he’d clearly changed. But when Austin hadn’t been able to give more, Leo still hadn’t left. He stayed and waited for me. Waited even though there was no guarantee he’d ever get anything back.

“Well, whatever helped you make the change, I’m glad it happened,” Dean smiles. “So, to answer your question...yes, there are others who have been here longer. But I want you to do this. I want you to be able to trust yourself without second-guessing and triple-checking everything.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Austin says, emphasizing the words as much as he possibly can. He knows this is a chance not many people get.

“Here’s his folder—you’ll have about ten minutes to go through it before the meeting is scheduled. You’ll be in the small office by the sound booth. After you talk, you can observe a few test recordings. We’ll be bringing candidates back every few days this week.”

“Yes, sir.”

He takes the offered folder and escapes, looking around for Leo on his way. He’ll wait, he thinks, and I have time. When he gets into the tiny office, he settles in a leather chair and flips open the file.

“Shit,” he says emphatically, staring at the top of the first page. It’s a nicely structured résumé, the clean lines distracting from the fact that the work history isn’t all that amazing. It looks clean and well thought-out but nothing like what he would have expected to see.

And at the top of the page, in bold font and a reasonable size, is the name Damian Centos.

“What did I do to deserve this?” he mutters to the empty room. Surely something terrible. He wonders if perhaps he’s paying for a past life of crime and murder. Surely no one else has ever had the monumentally bad luck he does. It’s like a best hits album, except with all the ghosts of his past that he’d rather not confront.

He barely pays any attention to the file underhand, flipping through the few sheets of information inside while trying to decide how he’s going to handle the interview. He gets the feeling that Damian won’t give him much of a chance to set the tone.

Now that he has time, he realizes he hasn’t thought of Damian since their meeting at the bar. He feels guilty for not thinking about him—after all, he’d left Damian to fend for himself and tell the others he was leaving. After his revelation, though, Austin suspects that Damian isn’t a bad person. He might be a good friend, in fact. Austin remembers him being a good classmate—an acquaintance. Now that Austin is dealing with the fact that he still wants Leo, knowing about Damian isn’t as much of a sore spot as it used to be. Damian isn’t some sort of tempter who tried to lure Leo away from a committed relationship. It’s more like he was available, Leo was probably tipsy and sad, and they somehow ended up together for a brief night.

Dean knocks on the door and peeks in.

“I’m sending Damian your way. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.” No, sir. Definitely not, sir, but when have I ever been this last month and a half?

From the second that he sees him, Austin knows Damian is nervous. The man seems uncomfortable in his own skin, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. He’s wearing slacks, the image incongruous with the tattooed individual Austin remembers from the bar.

“You cut your hair,” Austin blurts, surprised at the change. The bluish-black strands are no longer tied at his neck; his hair is cut just above his ears, reminding Austin of the skater look of the eighties.

The change in Damian is immediate. He seems to physically sag, the upright rod of his back shifting. The relief is immensely clear on the man’s face as he smiles, stepping closer with an outstretched hand.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” the man laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I cut it for an interview a few weeks ago...still didn’t get the job.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Wasn’t crazy about working in a cube all day, anyway,” Damian sighs, pulling a chair out to sit down. He leans back, one elbow anchoring him to the table. “I can’t believe I’m interviewing with you.”

“Well, I was surprised, too,” Austin laughs. “Not that it matters as much with a small company—but you don’t really have any credits to your name. Or experience, really.”

“Isn’t that true,” Damian laughs. “I do have a passion for writing, though. I took a class on delivery—diction, that is, as in how to recite literature properly. I enjoyed it a lot, and I thought, with my literary background, I could probably make up for inexperience with my practical knowledge.”

It comes out all at once—almost in a rush. He talks faster when he’s excited, Austin notices, amused. He wonders if it’ll impact the man’s delivery of lines.

It hits Austin that in another week, he could be working with both Leo and Damian. He honestly can’t imagine it. It’s been crazy enough just dealing with Leo alone; he’s not sure what to think about having Damian underfoot as well. Except this week, you could have a completely different relationship with Leo, he tells himself. If I could just see him...

“Why this company?”

“Well, it’s small. Collaborates on indie projects. I noticed you were working on Again—which, by the way, I’m super excited for—and I thought that was amazing. The writer for the project is stellar—she’s done work on a lot of hits in the past few years. She still sticks to the indie world, though, which I think says a lot about her goals. This company—Destiny Studios—is the same. You regularly take on projects that no one else will take, or even offer before the creator starts looking, because you have an eye for what can become a success.”

Projects no one else will take, Austin thinks. Sounds a lot like me. He shakes his head to dislodge the thought, keeping his smile in place to try and keep a professional mask.

“Well, you’re right about that. We do work closely with creators whose potential hasn’t been recognized by bigger companies. Why would you fit in here? You said yourself you don’t have much experience; we usually have short deadlines and people doing three jobs at once.”

“I’m always willing to help,” Damian says. “Even when I’m not entirely sure what I’m getting myself into.”

Was that how it happened with Leo? Austin ignores the invading thought, grabbing his water to take a sip. He’s irritated at how unfocused he is. He supposes it’s his fault for planning an entire day around a conversation he just as easily could have had over the phone.

“So, you’d be willing to do more than the job description?”

“Absolutely. I’m a pretty quick learner—and I know how to use the internet,” the man laughs. “Most times, a search will give you all the answers you need.”

“And if the search doesn’t? If you’re still unsure?”

“Well...I guess you have to make a decision,” Damian frowns. “Whether you want to trust your knowledge or let someone else figure it out and reap the benefits. I mean...you might make a mistake trying to figure it out yourself but mistakes can be addressed. Fixed. You can move on from a mistake; learn and grow. You can’t move on from giving up.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Austin says, shocked.

How the hell did I not think of that earlier? He feels like a stubborn fool for insisting against giving Leo a chance. Even if their relationship didn’t work out five years ago, it was five years. They’ve each grown so much since then. Or at least, Leo has. Apparently, I’m the most stagnant person I know. That needs to change.

“I hope so,” Damian laughs, interrupting Austin’s mini-crisis. “Dean told me you were going to give me specific pieces to read from in the script. Do you have a copy, or do I give you mine?”

“I’ll take yours,” Austin says, grateful. “I didn’t put one in this folder. We’ll move over to the sound booth in a minute—I’ll mark five separate blocks. We’ll do two runs of each, focusing on diction and level adjustment. Don’t worry about delivery—this is just a test to see how well you read.”

“Sounds great,” Damian says, taking the script back and flipping through with curious eyes. “So, what do you do here? You’re an animator, right?”

“I am. That’s my primary title here. I do animation work for our projects, but I also help with other things as needed. I work with our voice talent during the process, too.”

“So, we might be working together,” Damian grins.

“Maybe. It’s really not up to me.”

“Well, thank you for making this easy,” he says, grateful, and Austin feels a little more confident that Damian isn’t a bad person. As an employee, he’s probably a little chatty—but not bad. He seems eloquent.

“No problem,” Austin says, rising to lead the way to the sound booth. “I’m glad I got to talk to you again.”

He spends the next hour in the booth, watching and listening. As far as voice artists go, Damian isn’t bad. He certainly knows how to enunciate—there are no unintelligible words in his delivery. Every line is delivered carefully, despite Damian’s clear excitement about the job.

Lina comes in at one point, waving cheerily, peering into the booth. She hums in appreciation, watching Damian move as he speaks—hands, mostly, and always carefully, so as not to knock anything over.

“He’s a good candidate,” she murmurs, watching the man read. She has a plate of food in hand. Leo’s leftovers.

“Yeah, he is. We went to school together, actually.”

“Of course you did. Can I sign up for classes?”

He snorts, shaking his head. Should I ask? He looks towards the other two people in the room—sound staff. He’s not sure he wants to have this conversation in front of them, especially given Lina’s propensity for spilling everything when she talks.

Still...it’s not like he’s breaking any rules or starting any office drama. Leo is a voice actor; he’s not salaried the same way the others in the office are. He’s a freelance worker. Contracted.

“Has Leo come in yet?” Austin asks casually, pretending to take notes on Damian. All he writes on his paper are good job and good attitude.

Lina stops eating. She looks at him, uncomfortable. There’s guilt on her face. Austin pauses.

“What?” he asks, smirking. “Did he run off with Rowan for lunch?” That much, he can deal with. It’ll give him time to plan.

“I thought he talked to you.”

“About what?” his heart pounds faster. He’s getting the sneaking feeling that something bad is about to happen.

“His contract is up. He won’t be back this week.”

“Oh.”

It hits him all at once. He can’t fathom what’s happening. Questions swirl through his head, sinister and poisonous. Why didn’t he tell me? He can think of a dozen reasons, none of them good enough. Maybe Leo thought he knew. Maybe he thought it didn’t matter. Maybe he thought he’d come back at some point—or that Austin would call him. Maybe he just didn’t care.

He suddenly remembers Damian’s confession at the bar. It was just one night. He looked like he needed something. So, what was it Leo needed, this time? To prove that he wasn’t a bad person? If that was it, it still makes no sense to stay away from Austin outside of their relationship. Did he want to prove that he could get an ex back? If that were the case, it still doesn’t make sense for him to have stayed with Austin so long.

It would get so exhausting to constantly pretend to care, he thinks. He must have cared. He had to. So why didn’t he say anything?

***

WHEN HE GETS HOME, he realizes his phone is dead. He throws it onto his bed to charge, pacing in the kitchen aimlessly.

“Stop it,” he tells himself aloud, sighing as he stares at the dishes sitting by the sink. A pan used for stir fry and two sets of plates and cups. They sit before him, accusing. Look what you gave up.

I didn’t give up, he argues back. He was just waiting, trying to figure out what it was he felt and whether he wanted to risk his heart. Except now he’s waited too long, and there might not be a chance for him to get Leo back. They aren’t working together anymore, and Leo hasn’t called to explain. He hadn’t said anything.

There’s only one question left to answer. Do I want to call him? He knows it’s an option. After all, it’s not like it has to be Leo that calls him. He can absolutely call the man—try to ask what he’d meant by not saying anything. By leaving without warning. He can confess, explain himself, try to figure something out. Maybe that’s what Leo is waiting for, too—for Austin to reach out of his own accord. The more Austin thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Of course he’d let me make the move, he thinks.

As soon as his phone holds a tiny bit of charge, he turns it on, dialing Leo’s number before it’s even finished loading. He waits, nervous, pacing the floor as he waits for the man to pick up. Come on, come on, come on. Every ring feels like an age, shrill in his ear as he waits.

The phone rings over and over and then stops. The answering service picks up, prompting him to record a message, but he’s already hanging up. A feeling of dread crashes through him, weighing heavy on his chest.

It’s over.

He’s lost. There’s no chance that they’ll get back together again. Leo’s avoiding him, and he’s tried calling. He stares at his phone, half hoping Leo will call back, apologizing for not being able to pick up. He can hear his voice. “Sorry, I didn’t feel it buzz—I was sitting on it. That’s what happens when you ride the bus. What’s up?” A cheery tone, apologetic but optimistic. A promise to talk. Maybe even a confession.

It doesn’t happen. Instead, he stands in the middle of his room, staring at the almost-dead device in his hand. He can’t think of anything but the fact that he has to give up. Forget. Leo is gone and Austin will probably never see him again.

Looking back on how he left Leo in college, he thinks it’s almost fitting. Now, he’s the one left behind, no traces of the other man left in his life or apartment. No pieces to pick up—only the memories and lingering feelings from their failed relationship. Only his regret at not being able to do the right thing.

I should’ve just told him.

***

HE GOES TO WORK WITH a lingering feeling of failure. There’s no way to avoid the reminder that he messed up. Even his car is a reminder that if he hadn’t been so flighty and nervous, he could have easily tried to have a relationship with Leo.

“You look miserable,” Lina says, uneasy. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just a headache,” Austin says, trying to smile. It must not work well because Lina looks askance, unconvinced by his explanation.

“Well, Damian’s here,” she says, nodding in the direction of the sound booth. “I think you’re working with him again today.”

“Okay.”

He moves mechanically, setting up his workspace before leaving the room to greet Damian. The man is waiting in the room; the sound workers aren’t due for another half hour. Austin knows he should be working until then but he can’t bring himself to do it, too unfocused to dedicate his time to the project.

“Hi,” Damian says, smiling nervously. “Something wrong?”

“I knew,” he blurts, somehow unable to keep it down, “about you and Leo, back in college.”

“Oh,” Damian says, suddenly drawn, leaning away. He looks uneasy. I need to work through this, Austin thinks, and I can’t do that unless I confront everything.

“We weren’t together, when you ran into us at the bar. Leo just wanted me to give him a chance to prove himself. He said he wasn’t the same and that he didn’t want me to hate him.”

“I—I know this might sound terrible or shitty, and you can ignore me if you want, but I think he cared,” Damian tries, slow to speak. He thumbs through the papers of his script, avoiding eye contact. “He was drunk when I ran into him—we both were but he was worse. It was like...he’d just gone through something, and he was trying to get away from it.”

“It was probably my fault,” Austin muses. “A silly argument that I didn’t think was serious. It just...broke me, though. I didn’t believe that he would do that. To me.”

“He’d broken up with people before,” Damian says, unsure.

“I know—but it hadn’t been like this. And it didn’t matter to me. I was convinced that the person I saw—the person I knew—would never do something like that.”

“It was wrong,” Damian says quietly, “and stupid. I’m sure you weren’t the problem. It was him and whatever he was dealing with.”

Was it, though? Looking back with a clear head, Austin can almost see where he went wrong. They had worked at the beginning, he knows—when he was optimistic and flattered by Leo’s choice. Things had only started to go downhill when Austin had compared them to others, or to an idea of a relationship he thought had to apply to everyone. It hadn’t been until much later that he’d realized he couldn’t match his relationships to another person’s set of standards.

“I can’t help but feel like I contributed to it,” Austin says, smiling tiredly, “but that’s not even what bothers me, now.”

“What does bother you, then?”

“The fact that I had a chance to make things better, and I screwed it up.”

“You tried to...be friends again?”

“Yeah,” Austin says, feeling guilty for not being straightforward. He’s not about to spill everything, though. Damian doesn’t really need to know.

He’s not even sure why he’s talking to the man. Maybe he’s hoping Damian will tell him something more—some revelation that will finally tip the scales and let him have closure. Maybe he’s hoping there will be another chance. If he’s honest, he’s not really sure what he wants, other than to end this.

“Well, you tried, right? At least you got that chance. Most people wouldn’t.”

“Most people wouldn’t lie to themselves about it the entire time and then realize too late.”

“I don’t think so,” Damian says, scooting closer. “I think we lie to ourselves to protect ourselves. To make sure that if we’ve been hurt before, it won’t happen again. It’s a survival skill.”

“He never gave me a reason to not trust him, though. He tried so hard to make me understand—gave me all the power in the relationship, and let me set the tone. The rules. When we’d meet and how long. I just couldn’t stop being stubborn long enough to accept that he wasn’t the same person I knew before.”

“Do you know now?”

“What?”

Damian sighs, pulling himself up from the chair to stretch. He looks over the project calendar in the corner and Austin rises to join him, still thinking.

“Do you know what he’s like now?” Damian rephrases, looking down at the sound board with all of its bells and whistles. “Do you realize that he’s not a bad person?”

“Yes,” Austin says immediately, “I do.”

“Then there are really only two things you have to realize—first of all, that’s what he wanted. He wanted to prove himself. The fact that he did is good, regardless of whether or not he got to see it. Second, how do you know that he’s still torn about it? Maybe he gave up. Maybe he’s content with walking away, even if he doesn’t know how you feel.”

That’s the real question, isn’t it, Austin thinks. Whether or not Leo actually cares. If he does, Austin wants to let him know, however possible. If he doesn’t, though—well, it would explain him not picking up the phone or telling Austin about his contract being finished. It could have been his way out, quiet and simple, while they were already in the middle of a break. Maybe I don’t mean as much to him as he meant to me. It’s the same thought circulating back again, looping in an endless reminder that he’s part of a two-way relationship.

Or, he was.

Now, there’s no way to tell. Not anymore.

“You know...you don’t have to be stuck in that place,” Damian says carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you don’t have to be tied to him. To that experience. You can move on from it. Try again.”

“You really think that’s possible? With my track record? It took me over five years to get my head around what I felt about Leo,” he points out, smiling tiredly.

He can see the trepidation the moment it enters Damian’s expression. He looks unsure but curious. As if he’s considering some vital piece of information.

“You’re not the only one that’s been hurt,” Damian says, “and you know what you feel now, don’t you?”

“Sure, but there’s no guarantee it’ll apply to another person.”

“Well, I’m willing to try,” Damian says, cocking his head, and Austin pauses.

What?