“You sure you wanna drive me? And wait in the car? It might be a while. It could be boring.” Oscar knew damn well he was redirecting his anxiety about the short-notice meeting with Raj.

And, bless him, Roman wasn’t calling him out. He just smiled patiently and waved his car keys. “I have a phone. I can keep myself entertained. It’s the modern era.”

“Fine,” Oscar laughed, with a little more amusement than that really warranted. His hands were shaking as he slipped on his shoes and jacket. Truthfully, it was a good thing Roman had offered to drive.

The possibilities were scaring the shit out of him. Especially after the dramatic exit he’d made, and his slow recovery, and Raj’s hints yesterday. It was all adding up to form a picture he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Deep down, he already knew what Raj was going to tell him, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it. In fact, he was certain he wasn’t.

Wildly, he wondered if he could escape. Disappear, never show up for his meeting. Change his name? Start a new career?

No. You can’t run from this one. You gotta take the punches as well as the flowers. He took as deep a breath as his tight chest would allow. “Let’s go.”

Roman clapped him on the shoulder, his touch lingering as they stepped through the front door. “Let’s blow this pop stand.”

The drive was almost silent—Roman gave up on trying to make him talk and just chattered about Tokyo sights, which was a relief. He could tune out and not feel bad, and what he did listen to was actually interesting but didn’t require a response. He’d never been so glad that Roman could carry a conversation on one-sided.

Despite the good-luck kiss that lasted a little too long, and included a little more fumbling than was strictly appropriate for parking on the street of downtown Knoxville, he was wound up by the time he got to Raj’s office.

The words, expected as they were, stung.

“We can’t guarantee your place on the following tour, even if you recover during this show period. I’m not thrilled that Jef’s been apparently undermining your social ties—not at all, and I’ve had a word with him—but from the directors’ perspective…”

“No, I get it,” Oscar mumbled. Many dancers never reached their skill level again once they let it slip, and this damn knee was still aching too much. Probably because he was too restless to sit still for long. “It’s sensible.”

“It hurts, I know.” Raj reached out over his desk to touch Oscar’s hand and get his attention. “But I’m serious—if you stay in the industry, let me help you out. You shouldn’t let this be the end, unless you have some other passion or talent you want to explore more.”

“I don’t have anything in my life except dance,” Oscar admitted numbly, almost by routine. Then, he paused. Except Roman… maybe? “I mean, and friends.” Shit, I thought of Roman before Falcon. What a shitty best friend I am. “And, like, uh. Watching TV. Normal stuff.” Unless this means… “And maybe dating? I can do that now. Date. Without the distance. Unless he has a job with distance.” Oh my god. I like him. Duh. “I’m not really good at dating.”

Raj was laughing quietly as Oscar’s panic spiraled. He finally interrupted when he could get a word in edgewise. “Hon. It’s all over your face. What’s going on?”

“I… I don’t know,” Oscar admitted. “We haven’t really talked. But a friend of a friend is… maybe more than a friend…” He couldn’t say more—not in good conscience, without talking to Roman about it. “And he supports me. So that’s good, when everything else,” he gestured around the office to mean the studio, the company, his life, “is crumbling.”

Raj nodded. “Hold onto him,” he murmured. “Don’t let your bitterness drive him away.”

That drew Oscar’s eyes to Raj’s face, and the emotion he saw there made his throat go tight. “I won’t,” he promised, and he meant it.

“I’m glad you’ve got something else—someone else—to focus on while you recover,” Raj told him. “And I’m really sorry for having to do this. I won’t rub it in any more than I have, but you’re a phenomenal dancer. Don’t let this keep you down. You apply that grit of yours to anything else and you can do so much.”

Except what I want to do more than anything. Oscar clenched his jaw for a moment to keep the emotion in, then nodded quickly and rose to his feet.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Raj told him. “Everyone else is going to invite you to everything now. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Jef gets fewer invites.” His kind smile was supposed to make Oscar feel better, but it was a hollow victory when Jef still got what mattered to Oscar.

* * *

He barely remembered the walk back out to the car. When Oscar started to slide out of his dazed emotional fog, he was leaning across the center console of the car, his head buried in Roman’s chest as Roman held him close.

“I… fuck,” Oscar mumbled. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“I know,” Roman murmured, his hand in Oscar’s hair. “Getting fired always sucks. When it’s something you loved? I can’t imagine.”

Oscar nodded. “Exactly. And when that asshole got the part instead… oh. Yeah. Don’t ask.”

“Okay,” Roman agreed simply.

Oscar drew a breath of relief. He didn’t want to explain the mess with Jef right now. “And now I have no career prospects and I’m getting out of shape and nobody will want me for anything anyway…” Oscar mumbled.

“Look. Hey. It might not count for much, but I want you,” Roman murmured, slowly and clearly, like he wanted to make sure it sank in.

Was he joking? Fucking with him? Now wasn’t the time. Oscar pulled back slightly. “Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean it.” The warmth and affection in Roman’s gaze actually hurt when it so starkly clashed with how Oscar thought of himself right now: a washed-up loser.

Was Roman trying to save him? Or worse yet, was he treating him like all the guys he was with, trying to get too close too fast?

“I don’t want your pity,” Oscar mumbled, pulling back and buckling up. “I just wanna be ho—” Home? It’s not my home, whatever he says. Don’t be presumptuous, idiot. “I wanna chill out and sit down and just… have a beer. Or six.”

“Yep,” Roman agreed, giving him an easygoing smile. “That, I can provide.”

The drive home was silent this time, but Oscar was too miserable to be uncomfortable. He knew he was indulging the dramatic side of him—some would say wallowing—but the tragedy, the fucking injustice of it…

Roman wasn’t telling him everything would be magically better, or that life made obstacles for him to become magically stronger, or any of that bullshit. He was just letting him exist as he was: grieving and bitter and yeah, a little overly dramatic.

Oscar’s appreciation for Roman went up several more notches as he let him have these few minutes of silence. He even went ahead to open the car and house doors for him.

When Oscar was finally on the couch, Roman joined him with two open beer cans.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” Roman took a deep breath and sat. Before he’d even sipped, his words tumbled out. “I just wanna get out there, good and clear, that our… relationship status, or whatever… whatever we decide to do… it doesn’t affect your place here. You can stay here as long as you need to get back on your feet. But, um…”

Oscar waited a few moments while Roman gulped the beer like he was drowning. What has him so rattled? “But you want rent? That’s fair. I’ve been crashing here for a while.”

“What?” Roman yelped. “No, asshole. Not when you just got fired. Jesus.”

“Ah. Yeah. Still, it would be fair…”

Roman scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Fine,” Oscar laughed sheepishly and ducked his head. He couldn’t think what else it was, unless… no way. He wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

“But,” Roman continued pointedly, rolling his eyes at Oscar until Oscar laughed, “I, uh. About us. I mean.” He gulped again and put the can on the coffee table, folding his hands. “But I don’t know if I can keep fucking you without being allowed to love you, too.”

A few seconds slipped by before Oscar could get his brain working enough to understand. Even then, he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “You what?”

“I… need some kind of…” Roman made vaguely box-shaped movements with his hands. “Idea. What we’re doing. What you’d let me do. I mean, I don’t want to rush you, but things are so… I didn’t think you’d even want me. I’ve been so fucking hot and cold, I know. And I’m sorry about that. But it’s hard not to fall for you, and… oh god, I’ll shut up now.”

The first word that came to Oscar’s mind made him grin slowly. “Slick.”

“Shut up,” Roman groaned.

Oscar couldn’t help but sympathize. The poor guy had just put his heart on the line. “Sorry. You’re adorable when you do that. I like you too.”

“What?” Roman looked just as surprised. “But you don’t… date…”

“Neither do you.” Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Or you scare them off by committing too fast, you said once.”

“Was this too fast? Jesus. Sorry. I’ll, like, let you have your time. Or whatever you need.”

“No, man.” Roman looked like he was about to hyperventilate, and Oscar felt about the same way himself. “It’s just… a big deal for us both. I need to think about this before I promise you anything, you know? Don’t want to make promises I can’t keep,” Oscar told him softly, taking his hand and squeezing. “We’ll pick this up in a bit, okay?”

“Cool. Yep. Good.” Roman looked relieved as Oscar stood up. He picked up the TV remote upside-down and tried to mash the DVD eject button instead of turning it on. The DVD player opened and he mumbled a curse, mashing the button again.

Roman was even more flustered than him. Oscar couldn’t stop himself grinning, even as he fled to the comfort of his room and closed the door gently, yet firmly.

Shit. It was all out there now.

He paced back and forth for a few minutes, even limping as he was, trying to let his brain turn over the implications of what lay beyond that door: Roman.

He wanted him. He liked him. Romantically. That was weird and new. But weird and new didn’t mean bad. Falcon sure seemed happy enough with his relationship these days.

Things like distance might be hard to work out, but they’d managed so far. If they started actually talking about their feelings, they probably could make it work, right?

But did Roman really like him? Or was he just trying to settle for someone nearby again? From what Falcon had let on, and what Roman had let slip, that was Roman’s pattern.

This wasn’t something he could call Falcon about. Even if it weren’t for the fact that he was sleeping with his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend, which was a convoluted sentence, Falcon couldn’t tell him more about Roman than he already knew. His heart had to decide what to do, and he wasn’t good at listening to it.

Oscar had to stop irritating his knee, though. He crashed on the bed and closed his eyes, waiting to see where his mind went.

Roman was there for me today. Every time he’s home, he is. Hell, he’s there by text most of the rest of the time. He doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t need me to be someone else…

“Shit.” Oscar opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as the inescapable truth sank in.

Under his breath, so softly he could barely hear it himself, he whispered, “I want you, too.” It sounded right. It was right. It was way too late to worry about falling for Roman when he’d already gone and done that.

Roman was clearly sincere. He’d done more for Oscar than he’d ever needed to, and out in the living room when he’d talked about love, he’d looked scared out of his mind. Which was about the same as Oscar felt about the possibility.

But, like it or not, something was developing between them, and the thought of pulling away now hurt too much to even consider.

There was only one possible answer.