Chapter Six

 

 

He was in love with Wallflower. Well, he was in love with Mitchell who just happened to also be Wallflower.

Who was having second thoughts about breaking up with Barton Fisk and contemplating getting back together with him. Which left Jackson where?

In love with someone who clearly didn’t share the same sentiments.

His screen had long since gone into sleep mode. He should’ve responded as soon as he made the connection, should have told Mitchell-slash-Wallflower who he was. He’d been too busy holding his hand over his chest to stop the palpitations.

He’d been dumped before, but never by proxy. If Doc1984 had told Wallflower to send Barton packing, would he have listened? Wouldn’t that have been incredibly self-serving? He wanted Mitchell to choose him, not be told to keep him.

His phone buzzed. Shit, their nightly call. He’d been sitting here for hours. He couldn’t talk to Mitchell now. By not immediately identifying himself, he’d already left it too late, even if Mitchell would have chosen him over Barton. If he confessed now, Mitchell would feel betrayed, and he’d had enough of that in his life. But even if Jackson deleted his Topical account and disappeared from Wallflower’s life, the lie of omission would wear at him and eventually tear them apart.

He’d lost his partner and his online friend tonight. They just didn’t know it yet.

He sent the call to voicemail.

 

*  *  *

 

For someone who claimed to be considering getting back together with his ex, Mitchell was awfully insistent on seeing Jackson. After several days of avoiding their usual calls and claiming he was too busy to go out to dinner, Jackson finally agreed to meet up at Mitchell’s place.

Mitchell would tell him about Barton. Jackson would finally get his confession off his chest and apologize. Mitchell would go back to Barton’s welcoming arms, cursing Jackson’s name for his betrayal. Jackson would go home to lick his wounds. He’d survived cancer; he’d survive this.

Even if this hurt so much more.

At least the elevator was working again. Mitchell answered the door as soon as he knocked, and the smell of Indian spices wafted out.

Mitchell leaned in to kiss him and gave him a strange look when Jackson pulled away after a brief peck. The lights flickered, and he looked around in surprise.

“What’s all this?” Jackson had run through dozens of possible breakup scenarios for tonight, but none of them involved candlelight and… were those lilies?

“I’ve been a jackass this week, too caught up in my own drama, and I wanted to make it up to you.”

“I’m the one who ghosted you. I need to tell you—”

“We’ve both been stressed lately.” Mitchell interrupted. “I’ve got the whole night planned to help with that.” He dragged Jackson into the bathroom. The tub was already filled, surrounded by more candles.

“Get undressed.” Mitchell stripped down quickly and stepped into the tub.

“But—” Jackson didn’t think he could do this. To feel so close to Mitchell knowing he was going to lose him tonight no matter what.

Mitchell took Jackson’s cane from his hand and leaned it against the sink. Then he reached out and pushed Jackson’s shirt up and unbuttoned his pants. Satisfied when Jackson accepted the inevitable and started removing his clothing, Mitchell sank into the tub. When Jackson kicked off his briefs, Mitchell gestured to him to step inside and lean back against him.

“Barton Fisk and I started dating two years before the last Olympics,” Mitchell whispered quietly into his ear. He pulled a small bowl off the ledge of the tub and used it to gently spill water into Jackson’s hair. “He was my first boyfriend, and I thought I was so lucky to find someone who shared the same interests and drive.”

Jackson tried to face Mitchell—none of this made sense. Mitchell put his hand on the back of Jackson’s neck to push his head forward and continued wetting his hair. “Over those two years, we kept jockeying back-and-forth for first place.” He opened a bottle of citrus-smelling shampoo and massaged it in. Jackson wanted to fight the tender gesture—he didn’t deserve it. “I quickly learned that it was hard to maintain a healthy relationship with someone who was trying to kick your ass on a regular basis. But I loved him.”

Jackson stiffened. Was this where Mitchell admitted he still had feelings for Barton? But he simply picked up the bowl, this time to rinse, and continued his story.

“It was also hard keeping our relationship quiet. I wanted us both to come out so we could see each other more freely, but Barton worried about the risk of it affecting our scores and the fans, especially with the Olympics coming up.” Mitchell ran a soapy washcloth over Jackson’s body.

“At the Games, I was in first after the short program.” The washcloth stilled. “Barton was so pissed off, he refused to sleep in our room in the Village. I was woken up the next morning by an official with the US team saying Barton had accused me of hitting on him and that he didn’t feel safe rooming with me. You know the rest of the story.”

This time, Jackson succeeded in twisting around in the tub, sending water over the side. “He outed you to win the medal. That bastard!” Jackson took a second to think about what he’d just heard. “But why didn’t you set the record straight? Why have you kept quiet all this time?”

“Everyone thinks I was humiliated to be outed, but that’s not the case. The guy to whom I’d devoted two years of my life betrayed me for a hunk of gold. How did I not see that in him? If that’s what competition was all about, I was done with it.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “And then there were my parents. Who had never once pushed me to skate, who loved me whether I won or lost. Until I finished out of the medals at the Olympics, and I found out they’d spent every dime I’d ever earned and then some because they were banking on me getting sponsorships. The type that weren’t there for a gay figure skater who’d been accused of making unwanted advances against the gold medalist.”

And now Jackson had betrayed him by hiding his identity. Mitchell would never forgive him. Every minute he sat in this tub and allowed Mitchell to finally open his heart, Jackson was making his eventually confession more painful. For both of them.

“Mitchell, I need—”

“You need to know that I love you,” Mitchell whispered. “I didn’t think I could ever trust anyone again, but you chased me down at the rink and challenged me to see you.”

Jackson teared up and pressed his face into Mitchell’s neck. “I love you, too.” He paused. “You need to know that. And I would do anything to avoid having to hurt you.”

The joy in Mitchell’s eyes became uncertain.

“Barton wants you to work with him.”

“How did you know about that? I turned it down. Twice. But I only told…” Mitchell’s lips tightened with awareness before Jackson finished the sentence for him.

“Doc1984.”

“Were you looking at my computer?”

Jackson shook his head. “I haven’t been here all week.”

“Then how… You’re Doc?”

He nodded.

Mitchell stilled for a moment, then exploded out of the tub.