Transcending The Stars - 3. Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day - Thursday, 14th February

Diego Silva

"Goodbye, little honey bunny!" Lance knelt and kissed Jilly on the cheek, and she laughed. She'd grown so fond of Lance so quickly - it was remarkable! "I'll see you in a few weeks, okay?"

"I still can't believe you've gone gay on me," Zoey whispered to him, her brown eyes surveying the scene. "Was I so much of a bitch that I turned you off women?"

"I'm not gay. I still like women just fine," Diego replied to her, Julian in one of his arms. He looked at Lance with a satisfied smile. Knowing he'd need time to fix his hair and face, Lance had already dressed up for their date in a strangely masculine three-piece suit, all black and white. "I just fell in love with a man - well, two of them."

"Well, he's got good taste, I'll give you that much," Zoey was not a supporter of homosexuality as a whole. It was one of the things they agreed on when they began their short affair five years ago. Still, she was smart enough to know that she was on a probation of sorts Diego and the kids, so she strayed from inflammatory remarks. "Can Mommy have a hug?" She asked Julian, who immediately hid his face his Diego's neck. "Okay. Maybe next time."

Diego nodded at her. Julian was too forgiving for his own good, always letting Jilly get away with smacking him around, but he wasn't ready to start bonding with Zoey again just yet after everything that happened in the last year. Again, Zoey surprised him with how patient she was prepared to be to win her son's trust once more. At least Jilly seemed happy to spend the weekends with her.

"I'll see you on Monday night, right Bean?" Diego offered Jilly a hug if she wanted to take it - she didn't, but likely because Julian was in Diego's other arm.

"Bye!" Jilly waved to Diego and Lance, but she had no current love for Julian or Nina. Well, one thing at a time, he hoped as Zoey took Jilly through the security gates and into her car.

With that settled, Diego was ready to begin the plans for the night. He didn't have much respect for Valentine's Day - a cash grab that made singles feel like crap, but Lance, as Diego was rapidly learning, was a hopeless romantic. Old fashioned when it came to relationships. Although Diego found it to be sweet and cute when Lance finally dropped his guard down and began exploring the idea of dating his teenage hero, it was now proving itself to be a problem. Lance did things back to front as far as Diego was concerned. When he performed on camera or at a club, he often revealed so much of his gorgeous body that it was bordering on indecent exposure. When he and Diego were together, though, Lance took things painfully slow. He wanted to spend time together. Go on dates. Be wined, dined and wooed.

Unfortunately, their schedules didn't do them any favours. Diego worked the bare minimum KADA would allow so he would have time for his family. Lance worked most of the week, and he had a cornucopia of side projects. He rarely had time to visit, and often on the weekends when they were working he was too tired to make the most of the city around them or even the hotel room they shared. Diego loved that Lance would always share his bed, falling asleep with his arm and leg draped over the bigger body next to him, soft, little breaths cool on Diego's neck. He loved that Lance would kiss him whenever he wanted wherever they were. But... it was getting to the point where Diego wanted more from him. Lance wore underwear to bed and a towel around his waist after he showered, so Diego had not even seen him naked yet. They had not progressed further than hot and heavy making out. Whenever Diego made a move to discard whatever hid Lance's most private areas, the boy would reproachfully stop him.

"What are you so deep in thought about?" Lance asked Diego, a smirk on his red lips as he took his not-quite-boyfriend but more-than-friend by the hand and took him inside.

"Filthy things," Diego replied honestly but vaguely so that he wouldn't corrupt little Julian, and Lance laughed it off.

"Are you sure you want me to watch children?" Luiza asked him in her broken English as Diego put little Julian down. While alone, they spoke Portuguese, but when others were around, they spoke English for everyone else's benefit - unless Diego needed to translate something. Since meeting her nieces and nephew for the first time, she seemed happy. Luiza was not happy when Diego met her in Fortaleza three months ago. She was alone and broken in spirit, unable to properly recover from being outcast by her family twenty-three years ago. Now, she was bonding with not only her brother's children, but Diego as well. Slowly but surely, she was finding reasons to live rather than to merely survive.

"I'm happy to get a babysitter if you're not ready to do this," Diego told her merrily. "If you decide you want to go out and meet someone instead."

"I will stay," Luiza smiled shyly. She did not leave a girlfriend behind in Brazil, but she had not begun to socialise in Columbus just yet. She was settling in. Tonight, she would look after the children while Diego and Lance went out - and Audrey had a date of her own too.

"Okay. You can order whatever you like for you and the kids to eat - they will probably try to con you into pizza," Diego forwarned her. "There is cash in a jar in my closet if you need it. Be careful when Julian eats - make sure he doesn't go too fast. Nina can be hard to handle, but she should behave herself if you don't let her get too bored. If you need me, then this is my number!" He handed her the paper he'd scribbled on earlier. "And the number of the babysitting agency I use if you change your mind, and the codes to get into both the gates and the house."

"Wow," she took it from him, looking incredibly worried.

"It'll be easy as pie!" Lance reassured her, ducking into Diego's room - presumably to get ready in the ensuite.

"Power Rangers and pizza," Diego chuckled, reassuring her before following him. "That'll be enough to keep them both happy. I'm keeping my phone on in case you need anything. We won't too long."

Since Lance forced him to dress up if they were ever to go anywhere, Diego was ready to go through his closet with the British boy for ten minutes before Lance would find a combination he could live with, but he saw clothes laid out on his bed this time. Clothes he did not own but were in his size.

"What... erm... what's going on?" Diego asked, eyeing off the expensive designer stuff his boyfr-- his Lance had organised.

"Instead of wasting time doing dress-up I went shopping before I got on the aeroplane yesterday!" Lance eagerly informed him from the ensuite bathroom, sidling his way back into the master bedroom. "I've always wanted a life-sized Diego Silva doll to play with."

"I don't know about this," Diego ran his hand nervously through his hair. They weren't ugly, but they were... a little fruity? A long-sleeve white shirt with black trim and tight-fitting white pants with a black bow-tie. Not necessarily ugly, but not something he'd usually wear. "This isn't my style."

"Of course it's not, because you don't have a style," Lance criticised him, but he winked. "I'm not forcing you to wear anything, but it wouldn't hurt to try this out, would it?"

Of course it wouldn't, Diego thought. Lance had been hand-picking his clothes since the new year when they went somewhere the Paparazzi baboons were bound to follow, and if anything, the media was citing an improvement in his appearance - crediting Lance, of course, but good publicity was never a bad thing. They were just different people, he supposed. Diego was happy to go through life in a tee and jeans, but Lance was very Hollywood about things.

"Are you going to make me look like a drag queen too?" Diego asked as he began to strip off his painfully casual clothes and Lance laughed as he returned to finish applying the make-up that he liked to wear in the public eye. It was a lot. Diego's ensuite had been taken over by moisturisers, scented shampoos and conditioners and tubes upon tubes of... he had no earthly idea, honestly, but he had a lot of reading material for when he used the toilet. All he knew was that in 2018 there were no tubes; in 2019 they were everywhere.

"No, I'm saving that one for my birthday," Lance carefully painted around the rim of his eye with a tiny black brush.

He still wore his contacts all the time. Usually red - every since Diego told him that red was his best colour, Lance very rarely strayed from it. When Diego entered, dressed in the well-tailored clothes his Lance chose for him, the boy's smiled so wide.

"Dreams can come true," he said under his breath, kissing Diego on the lips.

"What? This outfit?" Diego asked, and Lance smirked at him.

"I meant you, you clueless berk," he pulled Diego's bowtie loose.

"Hey! It took me a long time to work that out with those stupid instructions!" Diego whined, and Lance giggled.

"I could tell," he winked, starting over from scratch and tying it properly. "You're such a straight man."

"And you're such a girlfriend," Diego retorted. They often made jokes at each other's expense. Once it had been from scorn and malice, but now it was all in good fun.

It was Diego who chose the restaurant they would visit tonight - usually, Lance would decide everything. Places, times and guests, all to a strict plan and schedule. He'd seen the inside of Lance's daily planner book - man, that kid was a control freak. Lance preferred the word 'organised.' Well, Diego decided to hell with that for tonight and did it himself.

"Who was your first date with?" Diego asked Lance as they waited for their order. Diego was looking forward to some surf and turf while Lance ordered the smoked salmon salad. It was no wonder the guy was so lean - this was Lovecraft 'letting himself go' for the evening! The most fattening meal he'd probably ever had. Diego wondered if Sue gave him protein shakes in a bottle instead of formula when he was a baby.

"Ohh, that takes me back," Lance brushed some hair from his face. "Bobby Petrović. I was fourteen. He was my first sweetheart."

"I know him," Diego frowned. "Where do I know him from?"

"You're not the only person to beat someone twice," Lance grinned wickedly. "Bobby and I were in the same seasons of Strictly Come Dancing and So You Think You Can Dance. Both times I outlasted him."

"I'm guessing from what you've told me about the dancing industry that he didn't take that so well?" Diego chuckled, taking a swig from his glass of chilled beer.

"Nobody likes to lose," Lance shrugged and closed his crimson eyes. "Bobby and I... he gave me some of the best times of my life. How about you? When did you start dating?"

"Same age as you," Diego drummed his fingers gently on the tablecloth. "I don't remember her name. I don't think I'd even call it dating. She and I wanted the same thing, so we did it."

"Oh, you little tart," Lance laughed, standing up. "I'm surprised you didn't have any happy little accidents earlier than you did."

"What are you doing?" Diego asked, and Lance beckoned.

"I'm going to teach you how to slow dance," the redhead smiled. "This music is perfect for it, and if some Baboon gets a photo of us, then that's even better."

"I'm starting to think that I'm just a project for you," Diego was only half-joking, but he did as he was told. "You want someone to see us doing classy things, don't you?"

"Honey, there's a whole world of delights that you've denied yourself," Lance spoke quietly, and he took Diego's hand and brought him into the generous floor space of the VIP area. "I won't dispute that being a little more debonair will help your career out, but I'm asking you to do this because I want to experience things with you. You teach me your craft three hours a week. I want to teach you mine for three minutes."

"What do I get from this?" Diego allowed Lance to take one of his hands and position the other on the small of his back.

"The pleasure of my company!" Lance laughed. "And I'll give you a little treat when we get home as gratitude for being so patient with me. Now, this is easy enough that Julian could do it after six pints of beer."

It was remarkable how Lance taught him new things. Slow dance seemed so basic, but he had never been interested in dancing before. This was... a different type of magic. The boy let him lead, but he was instructing Diego on what to do at the same time. A while ago, Diego helped Lance break through mental barriers by likening wrestling to the dancing world the boy knew so well. It was enchanting to step into Lance's world, even for a peek. By the time the waiters brought their meals, Diego was so content moving around the floor with Lance's head snug against his shoulder that he felt sad when the boy took him back to their table.

When they arrived home, Luiza had managed to survive well enough on her own since Audrey hadn't made it home yet - although Nina had given her a run for her money. Diego was amused and reassured her that there were many days he wished it were acceptable to buckle both of his daughters into straitjackets. To her credit though, she'd managed to put them both to bed. This was terrific news, as Julian harboured a tendency to want to sleep with his father all the time, making intimacy difficult. Diego checked on the kids while Lance retired to the bedroom, and although he tucked Nina in, he took no chances on even approaching within five paces of his son.

When Diego made it to his bedroom, Lance had already begun his work. A performer to the very core, he was already seductively rotating his hips and when Diego, surprised and amused, shut the door behind him.

"What is this?" He asked, a grin on his face as Lance, a perpetual smirk on his lips, pointed to the bed and began to unbutton his waistcoat as he moved seductively to the music he'd set to play.

Already at full mast and hungry with desire, Diego got the hint and threw himself down on the bed, ready to enjoy the show. Lance had mentioned something about rewarding Diego for his patience earlier. A private dance of his own? Hell yeah! Lance's eyes watched him lustfully as the boy's body seemed to move like water and he slowly - painfully slowly - began to slide out of the clothes he was wearing. One at a time. Diego didn't even want to blink - nobody had ever been so sensual, romantic and sexy all at the same time before. Rachel was good - excellent - but never had she done anything like this. Neither had Sean. Lance's shirt came off, and Diego began to gently massage his crotch, eliciting a proud giggle from the sultry boy in front of him. When Lance lost his shirt, Diego was quick to tear off his own clothes and ended up naked as the day he was born. That seemed to switch Lance up a gear, and the boy slipped out of his pants, leaving him clad only in a... freaking jock strap! Diego's eyes bulged as he saw Lance's bubble butt in the flesh for the very first time, wiggling and gyrated as the boy showed himself off. All the blue balls were worth it for this, he told himself.

"Just get over here!" Diego finally pleaded, and Lance laughed once more. He was doing something with his back turned, but he never stopped moving his body. "Now! Stop playing this cruel game!"

"I'm almost done," Lance purred before Diego saw him gingerly putting something down on the top of the dresser. Red contacts. No way! I'm finally going to see his eyes!

The near-naked boy finally turned back to Diego, and the Brazilian man breathed in deep. Those eyes were the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

~

Valentine's Day - Thursday, 14th February

Sean Fox

Every time Sean woke up, he spent the first five minutes trying to groggily piece together where he was. Waking from heavy sleep was something he had never done well, and the universe remained a complete mystery while his brain caught up. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry, and he winced as he sat up. He was waking up hungover a lot these days. Hungover and naked. Three empty wine bottles sat on his bedside table. Ahh. He was in the little apartment in downtown Knoxville. By himself. Not with his family near Grand Lake. Not with Oliver's family in their big house by the river. Not in his home with his boyfriend, surrounded by the animals he loved and cherished. He looked at his phone, and his eyes bulged at the time. How did it get to ten o'clock already? The animals would be ravenous!

He swallowed a handful of prescription pain medication with a few generous swigs from a new bottle of red wine, his body as sore as his head from rigorous training and performing at every show that would have him. He used the toilet, briefly dunked his body in the shower and brushed his teeth. No time for breakfast. He slipped into some denim shorts, a cheap tee and crammed his bare feet into some old sneakers, and then he hopped into his tiny rental truck. For the first few minutes, he rested his forehead against the steering wheel, wondering if he wouldn't prefer to run off the road at a hundred miles an hour and hit a tree. He eventually decided the animals needed him more than the spirits did, and he sped off down the road, the bright sun only making his head throb worse.

He turned down the dirt track that lead to what remained of his house after that Category Four destroyed his whole life. He never did clean up the debris. After finding too many treasures destroyed or gone, it became too hard. On top of that, he was too busy trying his best to retain his job. Oliver took the cats and dogs with him and scattered them around his enormous family. Sean had no idea which pet lived with which branch of the family tree, but Oliver assured him they were well looked after, and Sean trusted him. The first thing Sean did when he dared to leave his rental was cry - the same thing he always did when he remembered that hideous night. His hair stuck to his wet face, and he tied it back with a ponytail. He had things he needed to do.

"Hey!" Sean knelt and rubbed Kevin Bacon's ears, kissing the pig on top of his head. "Who's hungry?"

Kevin was the tamest and most social pot-bellied pig in the world. Always wanting to cuddle and kiss and show affection. Sean knew he needed to face the music and take care of the animals that remained. The barn stood tall and strong, and Selena Goatmez, Moodonna, Kevin, Baabara Streisand and Meryl Sheep knew it was their home. Sean had bothered to mend the fences, not wanting the animals to wander or get picked off by any predators that might have been looking for a meal, but little else. The sheep, goat and cow weren't as excited to see him, but they were all thrilled when he kicked down two new bails of hay for them from the loft and left the door open for them. Kevin received a big serving of vegetable scraps and bread that Sean took from two different markets and the bakery - they were only going to throw it away, so he had an arrangement with the owners. He made sure to fill the troughs with water once more from the garden hose, then he sat down on the muddy ground inside the barn and rested his head between his knees.

He wasn't sure how long he was there. All he thought about was how much work he put into creating a life for himself only to have it all snatched away by the tornado, by his own foolish decisions, and by Lance Lovecraft. Sean's blood boiled when he thought of that red-headed little twerp from England. He hated what wrestling had become under Margaret Bloom's leadership. It was all about ratings, and Lance snatched a position in the company that he had no business being in. Oliver's broken ACL marked the beginning of the end. With only one income, Sean was desperately working for the push - not just for personal glory and fame, but because he needed the money to support Oliver. Then Diego took his place and used Lance's influence to do it. Sean hated them both for that - although he'd managed to forgive Diego, Lance gave no apologies and had the nerve to accuse Sean of riding his coattails. This kid, this spoiled little bastard comes into my industry, gets handed my spot and then accuses me of moving in on his territory!! Although their mutual friends had tried to create peace, Sean was not interested, and neither was Lance.

"Argh," Sean groaned, groggy from the medication and alcohol, and grabbed at his phone. It was ringing. Oh. Two missed calls from Oliver. "What's up?"

"Where are you, Seano?" Oliver sounded pissed, and Sean furrowed his brow. "I'm here to pick you up. We're supposed to be going to brunch. You forget?"

"I... I'm here at the house," Sean explained, holding his head. It was foggy. "I overslept and I'm feeding the animals."

"You overslept. Right," Oliver didn't sound very convinced. "Stay there, little guy. I'll come to you. Don't get in the truck."

He hung up the call, and Sean hung his head back down to his legs, rocking back and forth. He heard his mother singing to him, and he began to sing it with her. He didn't often speak with his family's language. When they shunned him, it hurt, and it reminded him of how close he used to be with them until he agreed to sell them out to wrestle as Waya. Midway through the song, Sean felt himself retching and vomited to his side, then he sat back once more and sang to himself. It was comforting now as it was when he was just a little boy.

"Seano? Jesus fucking Christ," Oliver found him.

"Hello. I'm sorry," Sean mumbled, his head swimming. "How did you know I was here?"

"You just told me!" Oliver knelt, using his hand to bring Sean's face up so he could look at his boyfriend. "Oh, you're tanked. You little idiot. What are you trying to do? Did you drive here drunk?"

"I'm not drunk," Sean insisted, struggling to get to his feet and collapsing, falling back on his backside. "I'm not."

"You're off your head!" Oliver exclaimed, and Sean saw that he wasn't angry. He was worried. "I went inside in case you were in the shower, and I saw all the bottles. Shit, you can put it away, can't you?"

"I only drank a little bit this morning," Sean struggled to keep his eyes open. "To help me get the pills down."

"Pills?" Oliver's eyes bulged. "Not your Fentanyl? Seano, that's dumb as hell. What are you trying to do? Look at you!"

"Don't look at me," Sean argued, but Oliver grabbed him by the arm and yanked him up to his feet.

"How many did you take?" The black man looked down at the puddle of vomit - it looked like blood. All red wine with a few half-digested blue pills and no food. "Goddammit, Sean! This is not okay! Do you know how dangerous it is to mix Fentanyl with alcohol? And to drive??"

"No, I--" Sean's defence was interrupted by another sudden vomit, this time all down his shirt and shorts. He vomited again, then he retched his stomach, but it was empty. No wine, no pills, no stomach acids. "...Ohhh."

"Are you done?" Oliver asked him, full of disappointment and worry. "That's everything?"

"I think so," Sean swayed on his feet, Oliver holding him up by the shoulder. "I just wanted not to hurt for a bit. Just for a little while!"

"And how are you feeling now?" Oliver asked him callously, flicking his shades down over his eyes. "Like hell, right? Screw this! You're coming with me right now."

"Where are we going?" Sean asked, his words muffling as his boyfriend ripped his vomit-coated shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Oliver then grabbed the denim shorts and tore them down, confiscating his shoes as well, leaving Sean in only his underwear. "Ol-Ollie?"

"To your apartment so we can get you cleaned up," Oliver hoisted him up over his shoulder fireman-style, and carried him easily over to the driveway. He was driving a second-hand Audi these days, and Sean found himself being buckled up into the passenger's seat. "Drink from this," Oliver ordered, passing him some bottled water. "If you need to spew, do it on this." He passed over a gym towel, and Sean hugged it close.

"Everything hurts," Sean complained. His head. His body. His feelings.

"That's your own fault," Oliver snapped, turning the car around and driving them back up to the main road.

"Please don't yell at me," the Cherokee boy whimpered, sniffling and wiping his teary, snotty, vomity face. "Don't."

"No! I'm pissed!" Oliver replied, trying keeping his voice calm. "You realise you'll be suspended if anyone finds out what you've been doing, don't you? Coming to work and events after you've been drinking? Mixing it with your pain pills? You just got a new start in KADA! I don't get you, buddy! It's like you're trying to ruin yourself, and we're in line for a Championship run. It's not just your career at the minute, Seano! You're playing Russian Roulette with mine too! Is it worth it? And driving! You could be arrested! Or you could crash and lose everything! Dammit! Do you know what would happen to me if I lost you?"

Sean did not reply to him. He stared at the plain white towel in his lap, letting Oliver hate him. He felt like a complete failure. After they lost their home and Sean admitted he was having an affair, Oliver took it all very hard, but he bounced back pretty well. He stayed with supportive family members, he continued to work a decent amount of shows, and he had everything in order. Sean did not. His career was dead, his family bonds were dead, and his relationship was dead. Murdered by his own hand. Where Ollie turned to their friends for help, Sean retreated into a tiny, crappy apartment alone with alcohol, despair and self-pity. Where Ollie got back on his feet, Sean grew depressed and hopeless.

"Alright, now cover up with the towel," Oliver instructed him when they pulled into Sean's parking space behind the building. "Come on. If I have to carry you, I will."

"Can you help me?" Sean unbuckled himself and exited the car, wobbly on his small bare feet. "I'm... woozy."

"Here," Ollie knelt down in front of Sean, and the younger boy climbed onto his back and held on. "If you puke on me, I'll probably forgive you, but I won't be happy about it."

That was Oliver, Sean managed to think and even smile. He did forgive me for what I did... mostly. He certainly wasn't happy about it. They passed only one person, a man who took one look and laughed.

"Big night?" He referenced the near-naked boy, apparently under the influence of something, and Oliver grinned and shook his head.

"Woke up at mine with a bit of a fever. Getting him back to his bed," the big man covered for him, and Sean closed his eyes, letting beautiful darkness cloud his vision until Oliver used the spare key to open the apartment and carefully shed Sean onto the bed.

"Damn, this place is depressing," Oliver announced, flicking on the lights and gesturing to the empty takeaway boxes, alcohol bottles and sink stacked full of dishes so old there was likely mould on them. "You need to get your shit together, Sean. Seriously. You woulda kicked my ass if I ever made this kind of mess in our house."

"No," Sean shrugged, curling up into a ball. "I don't see the point."

"You don't see the point?" Oliver repeated, turning to him with a confused and hurt expression. "You have a life to lead, and this is no way to live it."

"What's it to you?" Sean shouted at him, tears again in his eyes. "Why should I bother? Why try to bring in the tide if it's only going to go back out?"

"Alright, fucking hell," Oliver exhaled, taking a few moments of silence to think things over. "Get up. You're having a shower."

"I already--" Sean pointed towards the bathroom, but Oliver grabbed him and pulled him up.

"Don't care," Oliver pushed him into the tiny, dingy little bathroom and opened up the shower door, reaching inside to turn on the hot water. "If I'm going to be here for your pity-party, you're at least not going to smell like puke."

Sean, resigning himself to his fate, dropped his underwear and walked into the stream of water to let it wash over him. It did feel nice. Oliver used his fingers to judge the temperature and turned it up, knowing Sean loved it hot. The man then shed his clothes, his nice shirt, pants and shoes, and he hopped in naked next to him.

"I want to die, Ollie," Sean fell against Oliver's big, hard body. "I want to go to sleep and never wake up again. I'm tired. I'm so tired. I've had enough."

"...You know what this is?" Oliver let the stream fall on his hand in front of Sean's tired eyes as his other hand gently stroked his lover's back. "Water. Remember? You told me once that it could purify anything and wash away all the bad stuff." Sean squeezed his eyes shut at the reminder that Oliver knew him to his very core. "Come on, baby. Let's wash away all the bad stuff, okay?"

Sean alternated between silence and sobs as his boyfriend picked up a sponge and began to gently wash and scrub his body from head to toe, and by the time Oliver started to shampoo and condition his long hair, Sean was feeling better about things. It's not the water that purifies me, he thought. It's Oliver. It's his love. For nearly twenty minutes the two stood in the tiny shower together, and Oliver gently and lovingly washed his partner, and after, Oliver took great care in drying him off as well while Sean brushed his teeth again to rid replace the taste of vomit with mint.

"I'm sorry I ruined our Valentine's Day," Sean mumbled, still feeling unwell but not drowning in despair.

"It's still early," Oliver replied, flashing a smile and drying himself off next. "Why don't you lie down? I've got something I want to show you."

"Okie," Sean stumbled through and collapsed on the small double bed. When Oliver returned, he made himself roll over and look at him.

"So, I was always looking for the best time to give this to you," Oliver held a beautiful silver wedding band. A simple design. Just the way Sean liked things. He hadn't actually seen it before. Oliver tossed it away when he'd retreated to the basement following the storm, and he'd assumed it was still there somewhere in the debris.

"Yeah..." Sean looked away, full of guilt and shame.

"You can look at it," Oliver sat next to him, also naked. "Even after we fought and went our separate ways, I still came back for this 'coz I knew I'd never be able to stop loving you even if I wanted to. I was hoping we'd work things out and I could try again, but... Seano, if this is who are you now, I can't do that. This isn't the guy I fell so hard for. My baby never gave up, never stopped trying and never let his problems get in the way. I tell you, if that Sean were here, I'd be down on one knee in a heartbeat." Oliver put his arm around his boyfriend, who was stunned by the words coming from the big man's mouth. "If you need help getting through the rough patches, I'm here for you, baby. Whatever you need and whenever you need it, you tell me. You don't drink alone and down pills. You don't stop caring. Because I'll tell you something Sean; I'll always need you a hell of a lot more than you need me."

Sean wasn't sure how to reply to him. It hit hard. The realisation that he was hurting Oliver as a result of his self-destructive behaviour. He kissed Oliver on the cheek, and again on the lips. He reached for Oliver's thick cock, wrapping his fingers around the flaccid organ.

"Baby, not while you're like this," Oliver warned him off, taking his fingers away. Sean whimpered.

"Please, Ol? I just want to feel good," he gingerly reached for it again, feeling it twitch. "Please?"

"I want to have relations because we love each other," Oliver did not stop Sean from massaging him to erection this time. "Not because you need instant gratification, okay? We're not doing that anymore. That means no more drinking alone and no more abusing meds!" Sean did his best hangdog expression, prompting Oliver to kiss the pouting lips. "I mean it, Seano. I don't ever want to find you like that again. When you're down, talk to me. Don't do this to yourself. You're too special to give up."

"What do I do, then?" Sean asked him, gently rubbing the tip of Ollie's big cock and relishing in the expressions of joy on his boyfriend's face.

"Get. Your. Shit. Together!" Oliver began gently moan at his boyfriend's ministrations. "Take control, Seano! Life isn't much different from one long fuck, in all honesty. I mean, in all the time we've been together, you've always taken it like a man and most of the time you don't even need my help to cum. That's because you know what you want and you ask for it. Why would you give up now? You can't expect to starfish your way through life and still be satisfied."

"Ollie, that's a pretty strange analogy," Sean wriggled up and kissed him on the lips, swinging his leg over his boyfriend and straddling him. From here, the two made out while Sean ground against the engorged cock underneath him, teasing his boyfriend. "I think you only went with this one because you're horny."

"It's your fault I'm horny!" Oliver laughed, his hands fondling Sean's hips. "I only ever want you to be happy, you know. You used to want that too."

"I want you and I to live together again," Sean told him, inspired by his words and bracing himself by putting his fingers on Ollie's large nipples. "I know you might not be ready yet, but that's what I want, Oliver. I miss you so much."

"I miss you too, Seano," Oliver stopped his sexual grinding long enough to bring Sean down for an amorous cuddle and gently stroked his back. Sean mewled and reflexed like a cat as the man's fingers lit up his nerves. "I've been waiting for you to get back on your feet before we got our place fixed up, but I guess that was the wrong decision. I should have been here with you."

"So what do you say? Are you ready to try again?" Sean asked hopefully, smiling down at his man. It was terrific how Oliver always knew how to fix him. He and I were made for each other. How could I be stupid enough to think anything with Diego Silva could work? It should have always been Ollie. Only Ollie. I will never, ever make a mistake like that again.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Oliver nodded, and the two began to kiss again, their tongues dancing along each other's.

Sean was still in no terrific state. He was hungover and a little drunk from the morning's binge, and his body ached all over. But no longer did he feel miserable, lonely and useless. Oliver washed all that off him and purified him. Slapped him with the truth when he needed to hear it. I'm sick and tired of playing nice and losing. I did my best for Lance Lovecraft, and he spat on my honour when I tread near his footsteps. I lost nearly everything so that spoiled little shit could further his agenda and line his pockets. And Diego? He used Lovecraft to steal my place on the roster. How did I repay him? I forgave him. Like an idiot. Well, Ollie's right. I'm done starfishing! As if to prove his own determination to himself, he used only his own saliva covered fingers as lubricant and nothing more when he finally lowered himself on Ollie. It hurt. It was difficult. It took a lot of fortitude and will. Sean did it anyway, satisfaction filling his heart when he felt the hilt. He needed to. If I can do this, then I have no excuse not to get my shit together. 2019 was only just beginning after all. There was no reason it couldn't be his year, and he started his new year with an earth-shattering orgasm on Valentine's Day.

~

Another Attempt At Valentine's Day - Thursday, 21st February

Ezra Luczynski

"You're not going to answer that now, right?" Beau looked at him strangely when Ezra's phone rang in his pocket.

"I'll let you know!" Ezra was usually happy to leave his phone on silent while he was sharing a meal with someone. It was something his father always taught him to do. But with the promise of his wrestling career taking off at some point, Ezra was taking no chances, and his heart leapt when caller ID showed that a private number was calling him. "You got Ezra!" He answered his phone with gusto. With luck, it would be Gloria telling him he was amazing and KADA needed him and everything was peachy!!

"Ezra Luckzinsky?" The gravelly voice asked, and Ezra cringed. There was a universal mispronunciation of his surname, it seemed. We may as well formally change it!

"Luczynski," he corrected her. "Speaking!"

"Hi there, this is Michelle Peterson, director of KADA Wrestling," the woman spoke really fast with a heavy New York accent, and Ezra just about died. He reacted so vividly that the passing waitress had to ask if he was okay. "I was wondering if now is a good time or a chat, or we can schedule a call another time?"

"Yes! Now! Yes!" Ezra, seeing Beau shooting daggers at him with his eyes, hopped up and darted between tables to make it to the lobby where he wouldn't be talking over everyone. "Hi! I'm Ezra! You're Michelle! The one from TV, oh my god--"

"That's me. The camera adds ten years," Michelle explained with two and a half laughs and immediately began speaking again. "My friend Gloria Droese sent me your audition video, and I thought I should get in touch with you ASAP. Awe-inspiring stuff. Stiff and unrefined, but impressive."

"Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!" Ezra had no idea what to say. Blast! I wish I knew how to speak to people! "So... ahh-- do you want me to be a part of your company? What happens now?"

"Gloria was right about you," Michelle chuckled. "Alright. Privately, and if you mention this I'll burn the bridge on the spot, Gloria took a liking to you, and that's why she's on my ass trying to drag you through the ranks. You're supposed to get a referral from one of our talent spotters, so this next step is just a courtesy because we can't be seen playing favourites. We'll scout your next match and after that, a formal tryout match with one of our veterans one on a weekend event - an untelevised show on Saturday or Sunday. We want to see what you can do in person. If you tick our boxes, we'll offer you a contract."

"I'll do that! I can do that!" Ezra covered his mouth with his hand and had to kneel down before his legs began shaking too much. "When?"

"In a few weeks. We'll work with MCW in Minneapolis to schedule a match for you," she explained after a brief pause.

"Can it be as soon as possible?" Ezra asked her, keen to rush things along where he could.

"When we're ready," she rebuffed him firmly. "Why? Are you in a rush? I thought you were only eighteen."

"I am eighteen! But I'm super duper mega ultra excited!! I can't help it, I'm sorry!" Ezra smacked his forehead with his open palm. Idiot! Don't blow it!

Michelle reacted similarly to Gloria. She laughed at him.

"I can hear that, Luczynski. Did I say that right?" Now she was making fun of him!! Dammit, Ez!

"Yeah," Ezra was beginning to sweat despite the cool atmosphere of the restaurant. "Um... so how do I contact you and stuff?"

"Well I'm not about to give you my Facebook, but I'll send you a text with KADA's contact information," she replied to him. "I'm already looking forward to meeting you myself, kid. You can do some great stuff, and you're a lot better on the mic than you are on the phone. Thanks for the chat. We'll be in touch."

Just like that, she hung up, and Ezra looked at his phone in disbelief. A tryout match?? I have a tryout match for KADA?? Against one of their veterans? O.M.G!

"Beau! Beaubeaubeau!" Ezra saw the eyes of his boyfriend roll when he returned, and he screwed up his nose. "I'm sorry! It was an important call."

"As opposed to an important date," Beau replied stiffly, sipping from his cider and bringing it back to the table with a crash. "Am I always going to come in second?"

"Whoa, what's this about?" Ezra asked him, stunned by the frigid attitude surrounding the other boy.

"We postponed our Valentine's date for today because you were so busy on Thursday going to that stupid wrestling school," Beau snapped, carving into his chicken with such intensity that Ezra wondered if he was fantasising about cutting into the Polish-American instead. "Now you're busy taking calls. Whatever."

"You know I hate that word!" Ezra complained, making sure Beau could see that he was turning his phone off. "I'm sorry! Things are happening and I know I've been busy. I'm sorry. I'm sorry! Please don't start this silent treatment thing because if you do that then you know I'm just gonna talk and talk and talk and talk and talk until you get double mad at me and then I'll go crazy and--"

"Oh shut up!" Beau rested his forehead against his hand. "You're exhausting to be around, and it's starting to irritate me."

"Oh..." Ezra looked guiltily down at his half-eaten egg-white vegetable omelette, stirring it around with his fork. He didn't feel so hungry now. What am I supposed to do? Are we supposed to sit here in awkward silence? Do I try and smooth things over?? Argh! Blast! There is no way to win!!

"So, what? Now you're giving me the silent treatment?" Beau finally broke the silence, and Ezra immediately wished for it back.

"No! You told me to shut up and that I was annoying and--"

"You just don't get it!" Beau threw his fork down onto his plate. "I just want to spend time with you! I love you! But you're obsessed with this wrestling bullshit and you're always choosing it over me - even though it'll probably kill you! What am I supposed to think?"

"I have a thought!" Ezra felt indignance bubbling through his body. "Maybe you could think 'hey Ez might like a bit of support' or something? Maybe you could think that I'm trying to juggle a lot of things right now?"

"Whatever," Beau sulked, chugging down the rest of his cider.

The date ended pretty quickly after that. It was not the romantic evening that Ezra planned on, but it wasn't as though Beau didn't have a point. They were on different paths at the moment. Beau wanted to settle down and be a teenager in a bigger town, as far as Ezra could see. And that sounded great - indeed it did - but Ezra was in a rush to sink his teeth into the opportunity he had with KADA Wrestling. It seemed strange to him that Beau could not - maybe would not - understand him! After all, Beau was doing his best to drag Ezra kicking and screaming to Minneapolis as soon as he could.

"Do you want to come up and see everyone?" Ezra asked meekly as Beau parked the car outside the apartment complex. "Just to say hello?"

"May as well," Beau was still snippy. Sex was totally off the table tonight, which was a pity. Sex was one of the only things they could do well together these days. "Are you still gonna let me use your car tomorrow?"

"Of course I am!" Ezra frowned when Beau implied that his boyfriend would be so petty. "Just don't forget to fill it up when you're done."

Beau would be going to several house inspections in Minneapolis tomorrow and applying for ones he liked the look of. Ezra, having shared a room with Eamonn since his younger brother was two, did not have many preferences. He just wanted his own space.

"Hi hi hi," Ezra put the smile on his face so nobody would know that he and Beau had been fighting, but Beau looked like he'd licked a lime, so that strategy failed before it even began. "I'm home! And KADA got back in touch with me! They want me to try out for them!"

"Do they, love?" Glennys looked at him briefly before returning her eyes to the television, stiffening up at the thought of Ezra getting one step closer to leaving the family. "That's nice. Did you boys have fun?"

"Oh, it was a blast," Beau replied facetiously, throwing himself theatrically onto the couch next to Glennys' recliner. "He got a call halfway through the date. I felt special when he left me during dinner to talk to someone else."

"Ezra!" Glennys scowled at him. "That's very rude."

"And I apologised a million billion times!" Ezra sat next to Beau, but a decent space away from him. "If you wanted to argue we could have done it in the car, not in front of my Mom!"

"Glennys, do you want him to go and be a wrestler?" Beau asked Glennys, who pursed her lips. "Like, do you really for reals? You know he nearly broke his neck last month when he fell from the top rope, right? He didn't want me or Eamonn to tell you."

"What?" Glennys looked between the boys, and Ezra turned red from shame, embarrassment and anger. "When did this happen? Are you okay, Ezra?"

"Do I look like I'm not okay?" Ezra raised his arms and jiggled his frame. "Do I look like I hurt myself? No!! I'm fine!"

"But what if you weren't fine?" Beau asked him, and Glennys agreed. "What if it happens again and you break your neck? What if that happens, huh? Urgh! You're so irritating and pig-headed that you won't even consider what it'll do to us!"

"I knew this was all a bad idea," Glennys was totally on the panic bandwagon now. Thanks a fucking lot, Beau!! Grr!! "Ezra, your body can't take the kind of hits that those others can! You need to be careful because you're going to get hurt! I agree with Beau. This wrestling thing is never going to work out, love."

"My body? What the hell would you know about my body?" Ezra got to his feet in a huff. "If either of you cared to notice, I'm in the best shape I've ever been in! I'm getting literal offers from the top shelf professional wrestling scene!! Neither of you has any right to tell me I can't do it. I can! And I am! Now I'm going to bed. Fuck both of you very much!"

Ezra, upset and livid with what should have been the best night of his life so far, retreated into his bedroom, startling Eamonn, who was listening to and composing synthetic music on the boys' computer. Seeing Ezra in such a foul mood prompted him to take off his headphones and curiously poke his head out of the door.

"Your brother is a selfish bastard!" Beau yelled at Eamonn as he stormed out of the apartment.

"Well, duh?" Eamonn replied to him coolly as Ezra threw himself fully clothed onto his bed and angrily beat up his pillow. "It's the only thing I can see that you have in common.."

"Don't you show your face again until you're ready to apologise!" Glennys shouted through the open doorway as Beau slammed the door shut on his way out, and Ezra rolled his eyes. I have nothing to apologise for! When have I ever asked for an apology?? All I ever hear from either of them is how I'll never make it! Screw them! I don't need them!

"Sooo," Eamonn could never resist hearing about the drama in Ezra's personal life, and he sidled his way over, a smirk on his handsome face. "You pissed off a few people. Bad date?"

"I get a tryout match with KADA," Ezra replied sourly. "That's it. That's the problem." He opened up his arms, and Eamonn rolled his eyes but did as his brother wished - lay down next to him and let Ezra hold him like an oversized teddy bear.

"How is that a problem?" Eamonn asked, screwing up his face. He was wearing only baggy jeans, and his flat chest was pimply. Puberty was giving him a run for his money. "That's awesome, Ez. Does this mean you'll go out of state?"

"Minneapolis, then I dunno," Ezra replied, grateful that at least one person in the world supported him. Pushed him to reach for his dream, even! "You know you're too tall, right? I think you should stop growing now. Anytime now!"

"Whatever you say, little big brother," Eamonn sneered, and Ezra managed a laugh. "You're doing it! I can't wait to see you on TV."

"I couldn't have done it without you, you know," Ezra knew his brother felt awkward when he was affectionate, but he didn't care! "When they ask me who my hero is, I'm gonna tell them it's my big little brother Eamonn!"

"Don't thank me too much just yet," Eamonn grinned and adjusted the black beanie over his greasy blond hair. "One day you'll have so much of my blood and marrow in your system that I'll be able to possess your body at will. That's always been my master plan. Do you remember when you fell at that LEW show? That was me trying it out. Soon I'll be strong enough."

"I was trying to be nice, you loser!"

Ezra and Eamonn laughed together. When I get rich and famous, I'll pay for any education Eamonn wants! And if something does happen to me, I'll leave everything to him. I have so much to pay him back for!

Major thanks to everyone who reads my stuff. I can't thank you enough. ❤️