Chapter Fifteen

 

Culhwch

 

I wake and look at the alarm clock next to the bed. It’s nearly midday. Turning over, I see the space in bed next to me is empty.

“Rise and shine,” Houston says as he comes through the door holding a tray.

My stomach rumbles as I smell the bacon and eggs. I sit up with my back against the headboard.

As he places the tray on my lap, I see he’s cooked me a full English breakfast, fried bread and all.

“This looks amazing.”

“I thought after your strenuous workout earlier, you might have worked up an appetite.”

His broad smile lights his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“Baby, you sleep like the dead. Plus, you worked your ass off last night, so you deserved a few hours’ sleep.”

“Well I might have liked to have been woken up properly,” I say with a wink.

“What’s properly?”

“With my cock in your mouth.”

He coughs and sputters around the mouthful of orange juice he’d just taken.

“There’s still time for that after you’ve eaten,” he replies.

“We’d better eat fast then.”

I wink at him and tuck into my delicious breakfast. A man who can actually cook. I’ve most definitely found a keeper.

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a mummy’s boy who can’t cook, clean, wash clothes… Houston might be a rockstar, but he doesn’t own the typical bachelor pad and he doesn’t hire a maid. Although the house is big enough to warrant having one.

After finishing breakfast, I set the tray on the bedside table.

“Time for a shower?” I ask, aiming for a sultry tone.

“And here was me thinking we’d start planning our birthday party,” he says with a chuckle.

“There’s time to talk about not turning thirty later.”

“You do know that you’re turning thirty whether you like it or not, right?”

“Definitely the not part of that sentence. Life goes downhill from thirty.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“Seriously, I just want to stay twenty-nine forever.”

“So, I’m allowed to turn thirty but not you?”

“Preferably, yes.”

“Then I guess I’ll start planning my own party.”

“Not before we take a shower, you won’t.”

I grab his hand and pull him from the bed.

***

We’re up to our eyeballs in party planning. Houston wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted a big party. He said you don’t turn thirty twice, so it will be good to have a big party to celebrate.

The trouble is, we both have so many people we want to invite. If the guestlist for our joint birthday party is this endless, I can’t imagine trying to scale it down when we get married. When? Am I really thinking that far ahead? I guess I am.

“So, tell me more about this weekend,” I say as I make a list of party supplies that we need to order.

“Well, all the boys will be there. I know you met them briefly before when Sophia brought you backstage, but that was a long time ago. This weekend we’ll be starting afresh. You’ll get to meet the ridiculous little fuckboy that is Jack. There’s Lucien who is very dry-witted. Jensen is a laugh, and Mack is like the daddy of the group. He’s a good laugh, they all are, but he’s also the more sensible one of us.”

“Who’s the least sensible?”

“Jack. Most definitely Jack. He’s an immature little prick at times. He’s a good lad, but he’s such a charmer and such a man-whore. Women just fall at his feet and don’t care that it’s only for one night.”

“And it’s Mack’s house we’re going to?”

“Yup. Bring your swimming trunks, cos his infinity pool is amazing. His house is phenomenal, puts this place to shame.”

“I doubt it. This house is amazing. I can see why you fell in love with it.”

“I have a confession to make,” he admits quietly. “I bought this house for us.”

“What?” I ask, completely in shock.

“Well, back then, I saw us together forever. I know I didn’t always show it in the best of ways, but every time I looked to my future, you were in it. I bought this house fully intending to surprise you, but we split before it was ready.”

“Wow.”

“It was being renovated, as it wasn’t move-in ready. I wanted it all to be perfect before telling you about it.”

I don’t know what to say. His confession has literally left me speechless.

“I’m not pressuring you into moving in, I know we’re not there yet. I just thought you deserved to know the truth, and I didn’t know when or how to tell you,” he rushes to say, probably eager to break the silence that’s descended around us.

“I–I… umm… I really don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, no, not at all. It’s just a shock, that’s all. I always knew I wanted to be with you, but I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you were ready to commit.”

“Because I didn’t come out sooner?”

The look in his eyes is unmistakable. They’re tinged with sadness and regret.

Taking his hand in mine, I stroke circles on the back of his hand with my thumb.

“That’s not a bad thing, Houston. You weren’t ready and I couldn’t force you.”

“I really wish I’d been ready sooner. Then I wouldn’t have fucked up and lost you.”

His eyes convey his vulnerability and makes my heart squeeze like it’s in a vice.

“What matters is that we found our way back to each other,” I say as I squeeze his hand.

“I always loved you, you know. Even when I wasn’t able to express it in the best of ways. I never stopped thinking about you for a single moment when we were apart. I should have come back for you sooner. I should have said to hell with what everyone else thinks.”

“Hush, baby,” I say as I put a finger to his lips to silence him. “None of that matters. We’re together now. What’s done is done, and we can’t go back in time. And honestly, I wouldn’t want to go back if we could. The time apart allowed us to grow as people and that’s why we found each other again. We found each other when we were ready and not a moment before.”

“I love you, Culhwch Matherson.”

“I love you too, Houston. And whilst we may not be ready to move in together just yet, that doesn’t mean we never will. This place is the perfect family home, and I want that more than anything… when the time is right.”

“Me too.”

He offers me a weary smile.

“Let’s get back to planning this party, shall we? Otherwise our mothers will have something to say.”

“Don’t even go there. My mum would take all this off our hands and do it all without our input.”

“Tell me about it. My mum would as well. Or she’d henpeck until I’d done it all. She’s a total helicopter.”

“What an awful thing to say,” he says with a chuckle.

“It’s awful, but it’s also true.”

“Then we’d better get back to the grindstone ourselves. Maybe we can find something for our mums to do so that they feel useful though.”

“I can’t believe our parents are finally going to meet at the party. What if they hate each other?”

“It’s a good job they aren’t the ones in a relationship with each other, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter if they get on or not. Although it would make life easier if they did.”

“I can’t imagine my parents not liking anyone. They get on with most people they meet.”

“Louise and Martin were so lovely to me at the hospital.”

“They’ve had nothing but lovely things to say about you when we’ve talked since the accident. I wish you’d met under better circumstances though.”

“Hey, let’s not go there. No looking back, remember? They were your words.”

He smiles at me and this time it reaches his eyes. I lean in to claim his lips and his lips part, allowing my tongue entry. I cup the back of his head in one hand, as our tongues dance together. He tastes like a mixture of his minty mouthwash and the coffee he’s been drinking, but it’s not a taste I mind one bit.

“Hmm let’s get back to the task at hand, otherwise I’ll be dragging you back to bed,” he says as he breaks the kiss.

I breathe deeply, to try and regulate my shallow breathing and rapid pulse. I wouldn’t mind if he wanted to drag me back to bed, but they do say all good things come to those who wait.

“If only Sophia was here to crack the whip and get us to work harder.”

“Excuse me? I’ll be the only one cracking any whips around here thank you very much.”

“Do you even have one?”

“No, but I can get one.”

I feel my cock twitch at the mere thought of him wielding a whip. Fuck, what a delicious thought.

“Then I suggest you get one.”

His eyes light up and he’s back to being the Houston I love dearly.

***

I’m sitting with my MacBook open, looking at venues online for our party, when I get a Google alert. I had them set up while The Descendants were on tour and never thought to disable them afterwards.

I open it up to see articles about Houston. The first one I click the link to has a photo of the two of us holding hands as we’re walking down the street. So much for being able to come out to fans in his own time, on his own terms.

The headline reads: The Descendants Houston Wainwright Has A Boyfriend. The “boy” part in italics, like it’s emphasizing the fact I’m not a girl. Well fucking-A. That’s just great.

Reading the article, I see they speculate about us. How long have we been together? Where did we meet? Why hasn’t Houston come out to the fans? Am I his dirty little secret? Is Houston gay or bisexual?

I click the link to the next article. Obviously, I’m a glutton for punishment.

Houston Wainwright and Unidentified Boyfriend Caught on Camera.

The article speculates about us in the same way as the previous one. But it’s the fact that this one has so many comments that catches my eye.

DescendantsNo1Fan: WTF? Houston is gay? I guess that’s one less fan they have now. Bye. Felicia.

WainwrightsGirl: Houston dashes the hearts of all his female fans. Why hasn’t he come out publicly? Does he really think that it’ll bother us real fans?

ThEdEsCeNdAnTsFaN: What? Gay? Are you effing serious? Well, I guess that’s one less fan they have to worry about. I can no longer in good conscience support them. Guess it’s time to burn all their albums. Nice knowing you, boys.

I read a few more that are even worse and my stomach lurches into my throat. I can’t believe people would stop supporting a band they supposedly love because Houston is gay. I mean, okay, there were a few comments supporting him, but nine out of ten were disgusted at him for loving a man.

There are plenty of homophobic slurs from supposed fans. That makes my heart hurt. I could just shrug it off if it was about me. Water off a duck’s back and all that. But Houston being a member of the biggest rock band on the planet, he’s constantly in the public eye and this does not bode well for him. If his fans jump ship because of his sexuality, then they aren’t real fans. But it’s not that I’m worried about. I’m sure they can stand to lose people that obviously don’t care about them for the music, but it won’t do any good for Houston’s mental health. He’s already done enough worrying over his sexuality to last him a lifetime. He doesn’t need to do any more.

Why is it that fans don’t follow a band just because they like the music? I mean, they obviously do enjoy the music, but for some of them, it’s more about imagining themselves on the arm of one of the band members. They’re all up in the personal lives of the band, they swoon at their feet hoping they’ll get noticed. But now that one of them is outed, they dismiss the band and their music for the sake of their homophobia.

It’s not always about homophobia, of course. Some of it is just the fact that he’s taken, rather than single.

Lawrence told them in the beginning that even if they were in relationships, they had to appear single. Appearances were everything, and he thought that the appeal wouldn’t be as high if the public knew they were in relationships. Which wasn’t hard at the time, as they were all single. And over time, as they’ve got into relationships, the fans haven’t batted an eyelash. They’ve probably been invested in whether it works out or not. Some of their relationships have been with high profile celebrities and people have “shipped” them. But the one thing those relationships all had in common? They were with women. Now one of them is with a man, it’s different.

I really thought that in modern society, people were more progressive and accepting. Whether you’re straight, gay, bi, pan, or whatever else, people just accept that love is love. But I guess I was wrong.

A question tickles the back of my mind: how did these sleazy gossip rags get photos of us? But the bigger question: what do I tell Houston? And how?

I turn off my Google alerts, not wanting to see when more people gradually get wind of our relationship.

“Hey, what do you think about The Bellevue?” Houston asks, making me jump out of my skin.

“Umm…”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, coming to sit next to me.

I slam my MacBook closed, hoping he doesn’t catch what’s on the screen.

“Hey, what’s with the secrecy?”

“N–Nothing. It’s…” my brain can’t form cohesive sentences.

Houston takes my laptop and opens it. I try to stop him, but he stands up, out of my reach. I know by the look of utter mortification on his face that he’s seen the comments section, the last thing on my screen before I hastily closed it.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is this?” he asks, his face turning beet red.

“Don’t look, Houston, it won’t do you any good,” I implore.

But he ignores my words and I watch his eyes scan the screen.

“How the hell did someone get photos of us? What in the fresh hell gives these bastards the right to print this shit?”

“I don’t know, baby,” I say as I stand and wrap my arm around him.

I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes.

“I have to call Lawrence, get him to shut this shit down,” he says, pulling away from me to grab his phone.

I manage to stop myself from falling over and take the laptop from his hands and place it on the couch.

“I’m not saying don’t do that, but what good will it do? People will have read these articles by now. People will know about us. The damage is done.”

“I’m sorry, did you say articles, plural?”

I sigh before nodding.

“If it was just one article, Lawrence could shut it down and the whole world wouldn’t have had time to see it. But if there are more of them… it’s too late. Too late to prepare for the shitstorm we’re about to head into. I have to warn the boys.”

“I know this hurts right now, and that it isn’t the way you would have chosen for people to find out, but they were always going to find out at some point. Plus, they would always feel the way that they’ve so boldly had the arrogance to post, there’s no changing that. The only difference is, you just might not have known about it.”

“Perhaps,” he sighs as he scrubs a hand over his face.

“Look, there’s no way to get out ahead of this now. The damage is done. You just need Lawrence to minimise the fallout.”

He sits down on the chair next to the couch and dials Lawrence’s number.

***

After his talk with Lawrence, Houston was in no mood for party planning—and I can’t say I blame him—so instead we grabbed some ice cream and watched a film. We snuggled up on the couch and fell asleep.

I wake with a crick in my neck and head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

“Hey,” Houston says as I walk back into the lounge.

“Hey, baby. How are you feeling now?”

“Tired. Frustrated. Irritable. I hope Lawrence comes up with something soon before more of those articles pop up.”

“We knew the time would come where you’d have to tell the fans eventually.”

“I know,” he sighs as he sits up and stretches. “I just hoped to do it on my own terms, you know?”

“Unfortunately, things happen this way all too often. I wish you’d been able to do it in your own way, but there’s nothing we can do about that now. You never know how many people have read those trashy rags anyway. People with taste won’t touch them with a bargepole.”

“You’re right. I can only hope that even if they do, they won’t care one way or the other about me liking men, not women. I mean, what does it hurt them anyway? It’s not like my being gay affects their lives.”

“People will always judge, whether it’s the right thing to do or not. Whether they stand with you or against you. But you know what? Opinions are like assholes—everyone’s got one. Nobody’s opinion of you matters, Houston. The only people that matter are the people you love, and they’re all on your side. We’re all here for you, baby. We love you.”

“Why is it everyone wants their pound of flesh? Why do they think they own you? Why do they take it as a slight against them whether you’re straight or gay? I’m so sick of people assuming that you owe them something. I owe nobody anything.”

“Because you’re in the public eye and therefore you’re public property. At least, that’s what they think. Doesn’t make them right. But being wrong doesn’t make it go away.”

“As if I didn’t have enough shit on my plate already, they want to pile more on it.”

“Don’t let them grind you down, Houston. You’re stronger than that.”

I lean over and take his hand in mine.

“We’re in this together, baby. I’ve got you. Your parents, the rest of the boys, Lawrence… we’re all here for you. It’s okay not to be strong every minute of every day, just know there’ll always be one of us here to catch you.”

His phone ringing interrupts us. He grabs it off the table, shows me that the caller ID says Lawrence’s name, then answers.

“No offence, Lawrence, but how will that help?”

I don’t hear the other side of the conversation, so I have no idea what he suggested.

“No, I don’t think it will. I mean, yeah sure, it’ll let the rest of the fans know. But it won’t stop them talking trash about me online will it?”

More silence and a long sigh from Houston follows.

“No, I’m not saying I won’t do it. I’m asking how the hell it’ll make anything better.”

He grunts in frustration and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Fine. Yes, I’ll be there. Yeah, I get it. See you in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone and stands up. He paces in front of the fireplace in silence.

I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. I don’t want to push him, but I really want to know what was said. On a slow exhale, I open my eyes. Houston is now sitting back in the chair.

Gone is the man who holds court with his peers. Gone is the vibrant man who knows just what he wants and how to get it. In his place sits a man who looks pale, scared and confused.

“He wants me to appear on national television,” he says quietly.

“When?”

“First thing tomorrow morning. The studio is a couple of hours from here, so I think I’ll head down tonight to avoid traffic in the morning.”

“And what does he want you to do when you’re there?”

“Confess on live television that I’m in a committed relationship with you. I won’t name you if you don’t want me to. I will honour your right to anonymity.”

“Like hell you will.”

Shock registers on his face. That’s probably more to do with my tone than my words.

“Sorry. What I mean is, if you’re going to do it, then you can tell them who I am. I am not ashamed to be with you. And even if you didn’t tell them my name, someone somewhere would do some digging and find out who I am. So, it will come to light anyway. Meaning there’s just no point in pussyfooting around and not naming me.”

“I guess I ought to go look for something to wear on national television then,” he says with a soft sigh.

“Do you want me to come with you? I’ll sit in the audience or the green room or whatever, just be there for moral support.”

“You don’t have to do that. If they’ve seen those online gossip rags, they’ll recognise your face.”

“I don’t care. I want to be there for you, not for them.”

I take his hand and lead him into the bedroom to look for something for him to wear.

When we have all we need, we jump in his car and head for the hotel I booked online while he was looking through his wardrobe.