Hold Fast, page 17
When the videos came out it would look like Crux had taken all that feedback into consideration and tailored a new program in response. Even though you couldn’t actually shoot an entire series in a week.
It was brilliant. Isaiah was brilliant. Breathtakingly brilliant. And oh god, Zack had to stop looking at those damn screen stills with Isaiah in yoga pants…
With a pang, he remembered that some of this had been assigned to him on their marketing plan. He’d even shared that with Yang, and she’d encouraged him to start slowly, to build up his comfort with new platforms. But instead he’d forgotten entirely.
And Isaiah had noticed. Of course.
He shared and retweeted and hearted things across accounts. Not that it would make a damn bit of difference since his personal social media reach was minuscule, but he hoped Isaiah would see that he’d done it, and…feel something. Maybe just relief that he’d finally realized he should be doing what he’d said he’d do. Or maybe even…smile. Think about Zack for a moment.
Silly. Ridiculous, even. But he didn’t care.
Then he put away his phone and started talking. First to Randi and Bear, then to Malika, when he found her on the floor. He sent an email to the entire staff with all the details of the yoga series so they’d all be on the same page, and included the Crux handles, inviting anyone who enjoyed social media to seek out, follow, and share the posts.
This was really happening. And in all of those shots you could clearly see the stained glass in the background. Randi’s cursory glance on his tiny screen hadn’t made her pause, but she’d think about it later and wonder how a video could have been shot at that precise angle.
Zack needed to start strategizing what he’d do when the staff started asking questions about how he’d gotten Terence to let him shoot in the choir loft office. He needed to protect them as much as possible.
And okay, he was still probably going to get fired. But hopefully that could wait until after the videos started coming out. The yoga series had become a symbol of things that stood in the way of he and Isaiah ever working out, but it was easy to remember how damn exciting this was. They were trying something Crux had never done before. It might totally fail. Zack realized he’d moved beyond thinking about this as pass/fail, and into thinking about everything around it, what they could learn. They got more engagement on Facebook than Twitter, but their Twitter mentions were steady where their Facebook activity spiked only when someone was talking back.
Data. God, data was so good. He needed a whole new spread in his WoJo and a couple of hours to dig in.
“Zack, I have Cody on the phone for you!”
He waved to Randi and headed back to the office, hoping fervently that Cody wasn’t calling in sick.
For the rest of the shift, every time he thought about Isaiah in his office, tweeting as Crux, he smiled.
Chapter Nineteen
Isaiah stood in the notebooks aisle at the office supply store and just…stared. He didn’t see the kind that Zack seemed to like most, though that could just be from sheer overstimulation.
There were a lot of notebooks. And he hadn’t even made it to the pen aisle yet.
In the end, since he couldn’t find the “right” kind of notebook, he settled for a basic grid-lined book, since he thought that was Zack’s second favorite. The pen aisle was also daunting, but he didn’t think he could go particularly wrong there: pens were just pens, right? You used them to write stuff.
Did he want black? He preferred blue, but Zack liked black. And then, should he get different colors? He should have done some research. The only thing he really knew was he wanted to take notes the way that Zack did, with the pictures.
Hell, maybe colored pens would be fun.
Of course there were roughly two dozen different sets of regular writing pens in different colors. Not to mention markers, highlighters, and Sharpies in a number of tip sizes.
Who even knew they made so many different kinds of Sharpies?
In the end he picked up a pack that had bold colors (and orange; could you even really write in orange?), and walked out of the store with a bag in hand, prepared to…google whatever it was that Zack was always doing. And hope there was enough for him to figure it out.
Twenty minutes into his research he paused to grab a beer.
He had videos playing on one monitor while he scanned through Instagram and Pinterest entries on the other. So this World Journal thing was…kind of huge. And some of these people were artists with it. Like, between the lettering, and the really cool looking decorations, and the general artistic organization of their pages.
It was awesome. Even though he had an aesthetic preference for the more minimalist journals like Zack’s.
Like his own, if he made one.
He eyed the notebook and pens. And went back to instructional videos. Hell, it was Saturday and Milo wasn’t coming over until later anyway. He had plenty of time.
It was strange how he resented having a free afternoon now that there was no chance of spending it with Zack. He’d even tried to justify calling. Zack was probably at work, but he’d be amused to hear about Isaiah’s adventures at the office supply store. He’d be wildly entertained—or as wildly entertained as Zack got—to know Isaiah was sitting here with a notebook he was a little intimidated by, trying to find a model WoJo online that he could copy.
But that’d be a bad idea. For both of them. Better wait on casual phone calls until more time had passed.
In the end, with consideration for all the WoJos Zack had shown him with their various approaches and attempts, Isaiah just went for it. He skipped some of the calendaring—he did his calendaring online, so it could ping his phone—and set up a page of to do list, which he then color coded by project.
His lettering was nowhere near as good as Zack’s, but actually? The color coding was cool. And worked for him as a visual marker. Doing a one day to do list wasn’t really ideal because it didn’t let him plan ahead. He tried a week across two pages and then sorted out tasks he knew he’d have to get done.
Man. He’d thought Zack was kind of a nerd for all the colors, but Isaiah could not resist feeling almost giddy with satisfaction staring at his planning for the week.
Yeah. He could see this appealing to Zack’s desire to make everything manageable, controlled. It was perfect. More than that, he was kind of proud of his notebook, his layout, the pleasing design of it.
If he shot a picture of it out over Twitter, would Zack see it? Probably not, unless he posted as Crux. Which obviously he couldn’t do.
Isaiah tapped his phone again, trying to rationalize calling. Or even sending a text. But clearly that would make it a hell of a lot more difficult to move on, and moving on was what they’d decided to do.
He’d brushed it off when his dad asked about Zack. That would only work for so long.
Maybe he needed a two page spread about how to make a relationship work if neither person in it had time for a relationship. Then again, what had Zack said? There was a whole notebook where he processed his ex boyfriend and it embarrassed him, so maybe that was not the best way to go.
Isaiah couldn’t imagine being embarrassed by Zack. Or by his feelings for Zack. But there was still no point in thinking about it.
He splayed his pens out and selected a black one. He wanted to try his hands at that half-note half-doodle method Zack used, and he’d opened a video in one of these tabs that showed how to do it. He’d need something to take notes about, so he picked Crux, and treated it like he was brainstorming a pitch to an investor. What had Zack said in the beginning? The gym was run by queers, people of color, and queer people of color? That seemed like a pretty good place to start.
He wrote COMMUNITY HUB in block letters and copied a fancy frame for it off a website.
Milo had talked about Crux being his family almost since he started working there, and all along Isaiah had assumed he meant personally. Only after spending some times in the periphery did he understand that it served that purpose for a lot of folks, not all of whom worked there.
Somewhat uncharitably, his brain added Because if it wasn’t your home, you’d find a better gym. Which, while he wasn’t going to write that down, did add another dimension to his imaginary pitch.
After a moment of contemplation he wrote RECLAMATION PROJECT and started listing the upgrades Zack was always talking about. When a list was inadequate, he did a mind map instead, resorting to searching the internet for images until he found a few good ones to steal.
It wasn’t gonna be a thing of beauty by any means, but the act of writing it all out by hand, with different colors, swooping lines to connect thoughts, and badly drawn icons was surprisingly relaxing. He’d have to show Milo later and ask for more input about the gym.
This couldn’t be his big project—the business to end all businesses—but it was damn fun for a Saturday afternoon.
* * *
Milo waited roughly ten minutes before interrogating him. Knowing Milo, that was a demonstration of mercy.
“So.” He tossed the curls that hung down in his face for effect, so Isaiah would understand that this was capital-S-Serious. “How’d you screw it up with Zack?”
Isaiah was almost too stunned to react. Almost. “I didn’t. And you don’t think I did, either, boy, so cram it.”
“Well, maybe not. But you’re clearly miserable, so—”
“I’m not miserable! No part of me is miserable.”
“Uh. Okaaaaay. Like, there are dishes in the sink, and the coffee table’s covered in pens and papers. Also, when did you start leaving the door to the studio open?”
“The pens and notebook are for a thing. I’ll show you later.” The dishes were from making food. Obviously. Isaiah checked the casserole and straightened up.
Was that his coffee cup from yesterday? And actually, he hadn’t used that many utensils today. He frowned at his sink. He’d been distracted by the notebook. He must have done something equally consuming yesterday. Even if he couldn’t remember what it was.
He never left the door to the studio open, though. No need to let just anyone see he had a ton of expensive equipment in there. That was genuinely weird. He had lost track of time earlier, and brought out the WoJo stuff to show Milo in kind of a rush. It wasn’t a sign of anything except his arms being full.
When he turned back to Milo, he got a somewhat more pitying than he was comfortable with look in return. “What were you saying?”
Milo cracked a smile. “Nothing much. But Zack’s all like—” He mimed a square with his hand, then another, and another. “Like, he’s got everything in these perfect boxes, you know? If he had you in the boyfriend box, you’d still be there. Something must have happened. Plus, he’s been super moody lately, which I can tell you, since you’re not dating him.”
“You’d have held that back if I was?” Isaiah raised an eyebrow and enjoyed the hell out of Milo flushing slightly.
“Uh, probably not. I mean, I would have felt guiltier, maybe, if you were still dating him. I see you not answering my question, by the way. You’re not fooling me.”
“I’m not trying to fool anyone.”
“Ha. Yeah, that sorta remains to be seen.”
“Dinner’s ready. Will you get the plates?”
Milo slid off his stool and when he came around the counter, he paused to kiss Isaiah’s cheek. “When you want to talk about it, let me know. You don’t have to fix me anymore. Maybe you can let me help.”
“Hey.” It was effortless, even after three years, to pull Milo in and kiss his forehead. “I never thought you needed fixing.”
“No, but I was still a project. I told Zack that.” Milo’s hands settled on Isaiah’s waist, and his expression was all fondness and love. “Thanks for not letting me ice you out. I tried really hard.”
“Not that hard. If you’d ever once told me to leave you alone, I would have.” God, it would have been easy to fall back into the comfort of sex, to lean on that friendly affection right now when everything else was complicated. Enough time had passed. They could probably pull it off.
“I didn’t want you to leave me alone.” This time Milo pulled his forehead down for a kiss. “I wanted you to love me the way I thought I loved you. Or maybe I did and then I stopped. I don’t really know. But oh my god, that would have been such a bad idea. I’m glad you knew that, even though you totally like crushed my heart into all these really horrible shards and ground them into my skin every time you asked me to coffee.”
Isaiah gave him a gentle shake. “Sorry, kid. I just…thought you were fading away a little. And if I bugged you once a week you wouldn’t be able to slip too far.”
“I counted on those messages. Even when I ignored them. So.” Milo rolled his shoulders, a move he used to do to subtly adjust his clothes.
“You uncomfortable, boy?”
“Ugh. Yes. You don’t rate the good binder anymore, so I’m in this crummy one.” He backed away and Isaiah smirked as he adjusted himself. “If you laugh at me, I’m gonna kick you in the balls.”
“Who, me? Anyway, this is gonna burn, so get plates.”
“‘Get plates,’ he orders. So yeah, Zack’s charging around the gym like he’s got a personal debt to pay off trying to do everything at once, and you know, dude, I think the gym’s in financial trouble. Like, between Zack and Val right now? I don’t know. Maybe I’m nuts, but they look like they’re about five minutes from having some kind of mutual heart attack.”
Thankfully Milo had turned away and begun setting the table before Isaiah had to make his face look convincingly blank.
“Val’s a trip. Like, he was married to Stacy. But he’s into dudes. Is he pan? Or like, you know, bi? Or maybe he’s gay and just figured it out, I don’t know.”
Bless the boy and his rambling. Isaiah carried the casserole to the table. “Have you asked him?”
“Well, I don’t want to spook him! I could ask Stacy, though. She’s the best. I want her to be my age-inappropriate mom so much.”
Isaiah served both of them while Milo opened beers and continued talking about the gym. He’d arrived with an agenda and apparently he felt he’d dispatched it; now back to their regularly scheduled program.
Or at least, that’s what Isaiah thought. Until halfway through the meal, when Milo looked over again and said, “So I’m gonna bring it up every few days. And you can not-talk to me if you want. But I wish you would.”
There’s nothing to talk about. He probably would have said it, except Milo clearly thought he wasn’t sharing out of some kind of misplaced thing about Milo being a project. Which he’d absolutely never been.
And, okay, also because Isaiah didn’t think of himself as a guy who needed advice. He was a hell of a lot more comfortable being the guy other people went to for advice. Not that he even needed advice about Zack, since he and Zack were solid. And he wasn’t miserable. “I’m really not miserable.”
“All right.” Milo sipped his beer and didn’t say anything for a second.
Maybe he’d let it go at that. Isaiah could hope.
“I’m really glad you’re not miserable. But are you happy? Because I would have sworn you were, before. I could be wrong. Like I might have been projecting what I want on you or whatever the shrinks say. But you definitely seemed happy. So did Zack.”
“I…think he was. I was. Happy. With him.” Isaiah shrugged. “It just didn’t work out. We’re both grown men, and we have priorities, and right now those priorities couldn’t be each other.”
“When I was a kid I figured growing up meant I could have the things I wanted. It’s so weird. And sometimes I still think that’s true, even though it’s obviously not. But I have so much more than I had back then. I guess it works out. And I’m not as fooled as you are, you know.”
“About what?”
Milo’s fork shifted in the air, vaguely in his direction. “You think you’re not miserable because you don’t want to be, so you keep telling yourself you aren’t. But that’s not really how it works.”
“Oh really? You telling me how my emotions work?”
The hand that wasn’t holding a fork reached over to settle over Isaiah’s. “You were happy with him. I don’t know all the details, and you don’t have to tell me, but I know you. And I’ve never seen you like that. You know you actually looked to Zack for his opinion about stuff? And not just because you were interested, or curious, but like you were invested.”
Images invaded: times Zack had absently run a hand through his hair when he was thinking hard about something, other times when he’d leaned in just slightly because he was so intent on what he was saying.
“I’m invested in your opinion,” Isaiah murmured.
“Yeah, but not the same way.” Milo squeezed his hand. “You can be miserable, you know. It’s allowed.”
“It’s more…” He set down his own fork and pressed a fist to his chest. “I really feel fine, mostly. I get why we made the decision we made. It’s logical. But there’s this pressure that never lets up, right here. This…weight. And it feels like it’ll only go away if I see him. Talk to him. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Uh. It kinda does.”
“Oh yeah, boy genius?”
The tease was automatic, and Milo smiled. “It’s about time you recognized my greatness. And yeah. Like, you fall in love with someone, that’s how it feels, you know? Like you’re…more when you’re with them. Not more complete or whatever, just sort of…more. I learned that from being with you.”
“Aw, kid.”
“What? It was good. For me, I mean. I got to feel that and even though you didn’t, it still counts. It still meant a lot to me.”
“Me too.” Still did. That Milo had cared for him that deeply. That Milo still cared about him enough to chisel through his walls and force him to look at the truth.
