Chapter Text
Nine years ago
It was a late train, they were tired and Erasmus’s stomach hurt from eating too much candy. The side effect of an early fifteenth birthday party. That’s what Kallias had called it, since they wouldn’t be celebrating together.
The mourning quietness was broken by the screeching arrival of the train, a loud monster that had come to put an end to their lives. It rattled Erasmus’ heart, it shook the tears from his eyes.
Gripping his suitcase tight, Kallias stood first. The sight of the halting machine behind his silhouette was blurred by motion, rendering him the only focus. It brought sadness with it.
“You will be the greatest actor there will ever be,” Erasmus’s voice trembled as he rushed after Kallias. “All your movies will become bestsellers, everyone will be talking about your performance, and–” Erasmus had to inhale, a shaky and wet thing, “I’ll watch every single one. Whenever you look into a camera, I will be looking back at you, that’s how great you will become.” Kallias had taken Erasmus’ hand as he spoke, and suddenly he felt shyness coloring his cheeks, but he couldn’t avert Kallias’s wide blue eyes.
Kallias said nothing as the train stopped finally, opening its doors. His parents were already boarding. “You mean it?”
“Yes–” Erasmus couldn’t finish his sentence, because Kallias kissed the words from his mouth.
It was a hard press of lips, rushed and forceful and remarkably unlike Kallias, that left Erasmus without breath even after the other boy pulled away and turned abruptly, following after his parents.
“Kallias,” he gasped, but it was too late, the doors were closing in front of him. He brought his fingertips to his lips, trembling. Kallias was wearing chapstick, and Erasmus’s lips were sticky with it.
“What was that?” his mother was at his side, grabbing his arm sharply. “Erasmus, what was that just now?” she asked sharply, angry for reasons Erasmus could not decipher with his muddled mind.
“I don’t– I don’t know–” his breath would only come in short bursts. “He–”
Something in his mother softened, and she loosened her grip to pull him to her chest. “Oh, my baby, it’s alright. We will talk to Priest Tarchon, he’ll know what to do.”
Erasmus hadn’t known what those words meant yet. At the moment, everything he knew reduced itself to the rattling of the floor as the engine came alive, the hellish sound.
The train left with Erasmus’ heart, and he could only watch.
Present time
Kastor’s birthday would be celebrated at one of his mansions, the modern-looking one, not the old money ones, with a swimming pool on the roof and three separate bars. Laurent had insisted Erasmus come with, and Erasmus, who was honestly just grateful that Laurent didn’t hate him on principle, agreed without a second thought. After all, he did fuck his boyfriend, even if Laurent and Damen hated eachother at the time.
It shocked Erasmus that Damen had stayed friends with him after their one night stand, but perhaps it shouldn’t. It was good sex. And intimacy without feeling was unknown to Erasmus. Intimacy, on a more general aspect, was unknown to him. Damen was his first and his last.
The party is packed, but on the tamer side considering the host is one of the Akielon brothers. Erasmus hangs around Laurent and Damen as he always does, but once these two start getting touchy he settles for Nikandros’ little group.
Paying half a mind to what Pallas is saying, Erasmus leans on the billiard table and sips on his drink. He isn’t sure what it is, but it tastes minimally of alcohol and Nikandros got it for him, so it’s just how he likes it. He thinks he should probably look for Kastor, congratulate him, but ever since they were children, and more recently since his divorce with Jokaste, the man is truly low tier in Erasmus’s list of acquaintances.
The birthday is only an excuse, anyway. No one is actually here for it.
Everything changes when Erasmus looks around and sees him like a beacon of light when he walks into the room. A lean figure, wearing an open tuxedo jacket tailored to fit him snugly. His hair isn’t as loose anymore, his curls tighter, perfectly kept. When he turns and Erasmus can see his face, he is welcomed to wide blue eyes he can feel the gentle intensity of even after all these years, across the space in the room. He could pretend he'd forgotten what it felt like not being able to look away from him, but only when he wasn't near.
Desperately, Erasmus grabs onto Nikandros and hides himself behind his broad frame. Those ridiculous muscles are good for something after all.
Nikandros’s eyebrows join together as he looks down at Erasmus, a protective arm coming around him. “What’s the matter?”
Erasmus is torn between the need to get another look, just for a second longer, and walking into the vast acres of wilderness surrounding the property to never be seen again. “ He’s here ,” he whispers, a low hiss.
Nikandros, bless him, looks over his shoulder. “Who?”
“Kallias,” the name feels wrong on his lips. Erasmus had forbidden himself of even thinking about it for a long time. They had forbidden him. He fists at Nikandros’s shirt, crumpling it, as he seeks to make himself unseen.
To Erasmus’s demise, Nikandros laughs. “Oh, he’s your little celebrity crush, right?”
Little celebrity crush– It almost feels offensive, but there is no one to blame but himself, as he hasn’t told anyone about–
Erasmus inhales sharply, untenses his grip. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he flattens Nikandros’s shirt. “I’m gonna leave…” he’s already walking backwards, tring to look as unbothered as possible.
His efforts to leave are cut short by the sight of Nicaise at the bar, unattended, serving himself something grossly alcoholic. Erasmus curses every adult at this party into next week as he elbows through the crowd, coming up next to the boy and snapping the bottle of vodka from him sharply.
“Seventeen is not the new eighteen,” he hisses, even as Nicaise looks about ready to kill him. For good measure, Erasmus takes advantage of Nicaise’s shock to snatch the plastic cup from the counter before he can and upends it over the sink.
“I was going to drink that.”
“That’s the problem–”
“Damen said I could!”
“No he didn’t.”
“How would you know?!”
Erasmus grabs Nicaise by the shoulders, making him look head on. “ Nicaise ,” they were almost the same height, but Erasmus wasn’t certain he would maintain the advantage in future years.
“Fuck you,” the boy spits, his voice shaking precariously.
This, more than anything, worries Erasmus, and he looks around to make sure no one is witnessing the scene they are making. It’s a good thing celebrities are self centered.
“Come take a walk with me?” Erasmus tries, softening.
Without a word, Nicaise shoulders out of Erasmus’s grip and walks ahead.
Staring at the back of coppery curls, Erasmus’s tension uncoils. After many days over at Laurent’s, he’s learned quite a few things about this boy, and the first one is that his pissy attitude is no more than a test.
They don’t talk for a while as they walk around the swimming pool, practically a lake, Nicaise brooding next to Erasmus’s calmness. The night is fresh but not cold, and the light pollution from the city doesn’t hide the stars, a pleasant combination.
“Why are you out here with me?” Nicasie asks eventually. “Not even Laurent bothers.”
Erasmus looks at him with a wave of nostalgia. He thinks about himself, a lonely kid with too much attention angled at him before he'd learned how to handle it. “Because I care about you, and I don’t want you to make the mistakes many of us do.”
Too quietly, Nicaise answers, “You’re five years late.”
Deep down, Erasmus had already known –Laurent had made implications during the adoption process, but to have it confirmed felt distinctly more hurtful. There are no words that will give Nicaise his childhood back, so he changes the flow of the conversion.
“Before I came outside here with you, the funniest thing happened to me. Do you want to know what it is?”
Nicaise seems relieved for the change in topic. He always loves gossip. “What?” he asks, his sly blue eyes focused on Erasmus with something akin to gratefulness.
The eagerness to talk about Kallias had never felt so freeing. Usually it accompanied much more guilt. Growth comes in weird spurts lately. “I saw a person I fell in love with, even though it was nine years ago.”
Nicaise’s eyebrows shoot up. “Love!”
Erasmus rushed to clamp a hand over his mouth. “It's a secret .”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Nicaise licks Erasmus's hand without a second thought, sending Erasmus back with yelp. “Who is it? Do I know them? Please tell me it's not Damen.”
“I didn’t know Damen nine years ago.”
“So…”
“I won't say.”
“Argh! Come on! You can't throw the word love around and leave me hanging!”
“I can and I will. Cry about it.”
“Oh, I will. On the internet .”
“No you won't .”
Going for a distraction, Erasmus attacks Nicaise with tickles, who jerks and starts squirming, a fit of giggles bubbling up.
“Sto-oh-ohp,” he laughs, trying to get back at Erasmus until they are a mass of slithering hands, looking for each other's weak spots.
In their euphoria, neither of them notice how close they get to the edge of the pool until Nicaise's foot slips, hand finding purchase on Erasmus's shirt, pulling them down in a resounding splash.
When they come up, soaking wet, they haven't stopped laughing.
Seeing Kallias again, in the flesh, spurs one of Erasmus's moods. He tumbles out of bed earlier than everyone else, not because it is early, but because Nicaise is a teenager that sleeps well past noon and Damen and Laurent… well.
He helps himself to a tea and, sitting on the couch, laptop propped up on the coffee table (the big TV feels too shameful), he knows exactly what movie he’s looking for.
It’s about three years old, and they made the disastrous decision to straighten Kallias’s hair. Erasmus has nightmares about it, but romances and Kallias are his weakness.
This one is a period piece of two lovers of old that had countless poems written about them, movie adaptations that started all the way back in the 40’s, and theatrical performances still to this day. Shamefully, Erasmus believes in reincarnation.
Not even an hour in, that scene has him in shackles. He’s petrified by the devil, helpless to see how Kallias’s lips trail along the woman’s neck, down to her breasts…
The devil holds his jaw, says: Watch the man that brought you to me, with the lips of a sinner.
A dainty manicured hand makes its way through Kallias’s unnatural hair. Erasmus doesn’t do his nails like that anymore, but he had when the movie first came out, just so he could imagine… It’s not your fault, he kissed you and left you a tainted soul.
The frame of Kallias’s back is center on the screen, a lean figure, acrobatic, an expanse of smooth skin–
“This again ?”
Erasmus jumps at Damen’s voice behind him, grabbing a cushion to cover his lap.
Shame creeps up on Erasmus’s cheeks as Damen laughs, coming to sit next to him still in bed clothes, which means boxers and, generously, a shirt. “Genuinely, I thought it was just a phase, but I’m starting to see you’re obsessed.”
Erasmus melts into the couch. “Shut up,” he whines.
Damen stays silent for a second as he watches the movie contemplatively, then he says the last thing Erasmus needs right now. “He came with my brother last night.”
It feels like Erasmus’s heart, in someone else’s hand, has just been shattered into splinters. “You mean…”
He feels Damen’s gaze like a physical thing. “I think the point is to make Jokaste jealous, but…”
Time slows painfully, wringing Erasmus dry with memories. He’s aware of the multiple people Kallias has dated, but those all felt like strategic marketing rumors encouraged by their managers. This… the proximity makes it so much more real. And the fact he’s not finding out over an interview or a news article is uncharted.
“Shit,” Damen says, looking at Erasmus as if only now he sees him for the first time. “Is it that serious? Do you have, like, an actual parasocial relationship with him?”
Erasmus brings his knees to his chest and covers his face with his hands. “It’s complicated.”
God must be testing Erasmus because Nicaise makes his way downstairs then, at twelve in the morning . “What’s complicated?”
Damen turns, putting an arm over the back of the couch to look at Nicaise as he makes his way to the open kitchen. “Erasmus is having a crisis, I think.”
“About?” he asks, drinking straight from the bottle of orange juice while Laurent isn’t here. Neither Damen nor Erasmus have enough authority over him.
Damen sends a sideway look at Erasmus, smirking. Erasmus wants to claw it off his face. “He’s got it bad for the guy from the zombie show.”
It was no wonder Kallias was popularly known for it, the role suits him awfully well. He has a timeless beauty for it, covered in dirt and blood, hair all tussled. Erasmus’s blush deepens.
Nicaise laughs. “You mean Kallias?”
Damen nods smugly, and Erasmus grabs the cushion to throw it at him before burying his face in the couch, not even caring if his hit lands. “Leave me alone,” he cries.
Erasmus hears it in his Nicaise’s voice, the exact dreadful moment he connects two dots. “Wait– Kallias ?” he asks Erasmus directly.
And just like that, Kallias isn’t Erasmus’s secret anymore. He thought he’d left it all behind in the confessionary of a church, but deep down he knew it wouldn’t stay there.
Erasmus lifts his face to meet Nicaise’s surprised expression regretfully. It’s as much confirmation as the kid needs to implode in laughter.
“No way!” he’s doubling over. “This is brilliant!”
“I’m missing something here,” Damen looks bewildered between them.
Nicaise opens his mouth, but Erasmus will have none of it. “Don’t you dare, ” he points a warning finger at him. “I told you in confidence.”
Forgetting all about his breakfast, Nicaise comes up to the couch to lean over the back of it. “Pleaseeee,” he blinks prettily. “Damen has the right to know.”
Damen has the sensibility to look guilty. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to…”
“No no, he totally does. This is headline worthy,” Nicasie shoots in, and Erasmus yet again covers his face in his hands, groaning.
“I used to know Kallias,” he says slowly. “When we were kids,” the admission floods him with memories of sleepovers on school nights and song lyrics hidden away in notebooks, a guitar left to collect dust in his mother’s garage. He’d scrapped names and pronouns from the songs, enough to publish an album with a mere six tracks he is still riding the fame of, two singles, he only did collaborations since then, and at some point all the brand deals had turned into a model agency.
Damen’s eyes light up. “Oh my God ,” his smile broadens as he leans forward to take Erasmus’s hands in his, prying them away from his face and holding them excitedly, eclipsing them completely with his broad palms. “So it’s not parasocial.”
Erasmus makes a pathetic noise, mumbling. “No, it definitely is. We haven’t talked in a decade.”
Damen and Nicaise share a look. No one is paying attention to the movie playing in the background.
Turning to Erasmus with raised eyebrows, Damen asks. “And why haven’t you?”
Something about the kiss; the years afterwards he thought there was an innate flaw in him to be punished for; the feelings, a physical ache, he’d gone so long repressing.
“It’s complicated ,” he reiterates.
At night I lay paralyzed from head to toe
As I stood when
he
she left her chapstick on me
Lips worth an eternity without Him
I kneel today as I stood there yesterday
Twelve years ago
They weren't allowed inside the music classroom during recess, but Kallias was always the exception to everything. At times it felt as if rejection was unthinkable to him, not because of arrogance, but an opposite feeling, as if a soul like this could mend every heart with its genuine smiles.
Sitting behind the drum kit, he ran his fingers along the cymbals, waiting for Erasmus to read over his music sheet. Erasmus did so unhurriedly, biting into his sandwich. The quietness was familiar.
He swallowed, cleared his throat, and started nodding his head as his fingers found their place on the piano keys.
He started the soft opening notes of Dorian by Agnes Obel.
It was the piece he’d chosen for his performance at the end of the year at the Gardens of Nerseus Academy, an important event, as it wasn’t only for proud parents, but other musical schools and professionals that attended. There were multiple events scheduled over a weekend, including a theatrical performance that Kallias obviously participated in.
Erasmus sang, tilting his head slightly as he got lost in his own sound.
They won't know who we are
So we both can pretend
It's written on the mountains
A line that never ends
He couldn’t help his smile when he looked eyes with Kallias, who apparently hadn’t stopped staring, and quickly had to look back at his hands so he wouldn’t lose his pace. His heart was accelerating.
As the devil spoke we spilled out on the floor
And the pieces broke and the people wanted more
And the rugged wheel is turning another round
He imagined what it would be like to play for an audience, and figured that, if it felt anything like having Kallias’s attention on him, he could do it twice in a row, with no rehearsals and a broken metronome.
Dorian, carrion,
Will you come along to the end
Will you ever let us carry on
As Erasmus sang he could see out of the corner of his eye how his friend swayed. He closed his eyes and let muscle memory do the rest.
Even if he never became a popular singer, it would all be worth it just for the moments like these.
When he finished the ending notes, he slowly opened his eyes to find that Kallias continued to stare in silence, making self consciousness creep up his spine. “It sounds plain without Iphegin’s viola,” he said softly, self-critically.
Surprise coloured Kallias’ cheeks. It was the first time Erasmus had seen him look anything but composed, as if he’d been caught doing something forbidden. “No, I, sorry– You did amazing! It was beautiful,” he smiled, leaning forward and crinkling his eyes, and the moment was gone, the bashfulness dissipated as if it never existed, and Erasmus thought perhaps he imagined it.
Present time
Laurent’s driver ends up being Erasmus’s ride home. Jord is a nice guy, except for when he makes questionable comments about Laurent’s sex life. Erasmus finds it distasteful how common it is to talk about Laurent in this sense, as if he’s public property.
It’s going to be a dreadful hour-long drive as always, except this time, Erasmus’s phone rings with an incoming call to distract him.
“Hey, Jokaste,” Erasmus muses. He can never get quite used to pretending the people in his service are not there, and he half quietens his voice.
“Hello, darling,” Jokaste says, her endearing terms sound mean, but it’s just the cadence of her voice, not her intention. If Jokaste was being mean, it would be glaringly obvious. “How are you, can you talk?”
Erasmus adjusts in his seat, stretching his legs. “I’m all yours. Sorry I didn’t come say hi to you yesterday, by the way. I left early.”
“Mhm, yeah, Nik told me. It’s partly what I wanted to talk to you about.”
His heart plummets to his stomach, and it’s not because of the bumps in the road. “Okay,” he says breathily. “If you’re going to tell me Kallias is back, I already know–”
“Don’t be silly, I know you know, I’m not a fool. What I’m telling you is that I’d like to invite him to Elena’s birthday.”
“I don’t see why you would need to tell me this.”
“Erasmus, honey, genuinely stop pulling my nose, I’m asking you if you’d be alright with him being there.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Jokaste lets out the most irritated sigh Erasmus has heard her do since she had to fight Kastor for custody over Elena. “I was hoping you would tell me, actually. Do you think I wouldn’t notice that, after all these years, you haven’t spoken? It took me long enough to figure out because the idea was just preposterous, but I see it perfectly now, you had a fallout.”
“We just– went out of contact. It was hardly a premeditated–”
“Oh, don’t. If you won’t tell me, then fine, but I’m your friend, and I’m also his friend, even though in a lesser measure, and I don’t want to put you in a compromising position. So if you could just kindly tell me if it’s alright for him to be at Elena’s party…”
“It’s fine, I’ll just avoid him.”
Over the phone, Jokaste is silent.
Erasmus huffs. “It’s alright . I’ll sort myself out by then, don’t worry.”
“If you say so, darling.”
“Mh, anything else? How’s Elena?”
“Oh, she’s wonderful. Her baby teeth are falling out and she’s got this very funny gap in her smile. Actually, would you be able to keep her for a few hours on tuesday? I’ve got an appointment.”
“Oh, I would love to, when was the last time I had her over? April?” Erasmus contemplates mourfully, “I don’t remember having anything this week, so drop her off whenever, really.”
“You’re an angel, Erasmus.”
“Did she tire her babysitter?”
Jokaste’s silence, this time, feels careful. “Not to sound paranoiac, but… I can’t bring myself to trust any of them.”
Past the window, the city buzzes, people and buildings flying past the tainted windows. “It must be hard. I’m sorry.”
“No mind, it’s never wrong to be careful.”
It’s a sharp silence, half awkward how all the silences are when taboo topics are being broached. Erasmus wishes humanity was different.
“Do you have many people that you trust? I could always make more time if you need,” he says carefully. He’s unsure if Jokaste will accept any help without having asked for it, and perhaps he should have manipulated her, but Erasmus doesn’t have her mind for mind games.
“I’m not working as much anymore, that way I can spend more time with her. My manager’s unhappy with it, but I’m the one paying them so if they complain I can find me another,” from this tangled explanation Erasmus gathers that the simplified answer is ‘ no, keep your charity ’.
Dear Lord, give me the strength to resist
Dear Lord, forgive the thoughts I entertain
Dear Lord, deliver me from this sin
(Forgive me Lord)
Ten years ago
They were supposedly studying for their reading test tomorrow, the notebooks were open, the book was propped up on the last page from where Erasmus had been reading out loud sitting on his beanbag.
The ending had left a vortex open in which Kallias, laying on his back on the bed, looked upside down right at Erasmus in the echoing silence. It was impossible to know what Kallias was seeing, but his gaze was fixed, and Erasmus wouldn’t dare disturb the surface. He felt oddly warm.
After a moment, Kallias whispered. “I’m auditioning for a role for an American movie series.”
Erasmus didn’t hear, yet, the strain with which Kallias spoke, and a smile broke on his face. “That’s wonderful. I’m sure you’ll get it. What’s it about?”
Kallias closed his eyes with a sigh, freeing Erasmus from his freezed state and giving him the opportunity to look unpretending. Kallias’s hair fell down uncovering his face, slightly tinted from the abnormal blood flow. Erasmus felt shameful for looking, and he flushed.
“It’s a secondary role, but it’s a long contract and I’ll probably be gone for at least six months, and that’s not counting the weeks of auditions,” he incorporated, sitting atop the bed with his back to Erasmus.
Kallias had done some movie deals in the past, and he’d had to be away for a few months, but none were more than a two hour flight away.
“And if there’s sequels they will want me again,” Kallias continued, Erasmus could feel the tension in his shoulders, so he stood up to sit at the edge of the bed, behind Kallias. “Martha,” that was his manager, “said my popularity will increase, and it’ll be easier to get me into more deals once I’m more known.”
Kallias seemed happy, Erasmus could see the edge of his smile, but his eyes were downcast and he had his hands clasped in his lap.
Erasmus nudged his shoulder against the other’s back. “That’s a big deal. Are you scared of not getting the role?”
Kallias shook his head, leaning into Erasmus’s touch. “I’m scared I will.”
“But I thought–”
“I won’t be back in a long time,” Kallias interrupted, turning fully to face Erasmus. There was a contradicting mix of fear and relief in his expression. “My cousin lives in San Francisco, I’ll move in with her, or that’s the plan, at least.”
“You’re moving?” Erasmus asked.
Kallias smiled meekly at him. “Do you understand now? If I get the part, I’m leaving this town.”
Erasmus could not figure out what it was that made Kallias sad. Sure, it sounded scary, Erasmus couldn’t imagine himself in Kallias’s shoes, but this was a dream coming true, it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and he was so immensely proud of his friend.
The vision was almost real, he could picture Kallias playing the roles of his favourite characters, looking at him through a theater screen, and was so overcome by emotion that he surged forward to hug him.
“Everything will work out,” he said as Kallias’s arms came around his ribs, “We can call every night and you can tell me all about your life there,” He felt the weight of a body against him, strangey fitting, “I’ll visit as much as I can, and imagine if my songs blow up, I could see you on tours!”
Erasmus felt a warm huff of air against his neck. Kallias had laughed. “I would like that,” he mused, pulling away. “Thanks.”
Downstairs, the clanking of kitchen utensils could be heard as his mum prepared dinner, a reminder of their current circumstance. Erasmus stood up, grabbing the book from the floor and holding it up. “Do you think the ending was a metaphor?”
That night, after mum had kissed them both goodnight, turned off the light and closed the door behind herself, Kallias forewent the mattress on the floor. He’d waited to hear the steps disappear down the hallway, then crawled under the blanket with Erasmus.
This wasn’t uncommon. It was usually how they slept at Kallias’s, since his parents didn’t pay them much mind. But tonight, Kallias pressed close to Erasmus, put an arm around his middle, their bare legs touching.
For a few minutes Erasmus was frozen in place, lying on his back and trying to steady his breathing that was startlingly erratic compared to the silence of the room. When he managed halfway, he turned his face towards the boy next to him.
His eyes were closed and his lips parted slightly, looking asleep already, but as if sensing Erasmus’ stare, he nuzzled closer, putting his forehead to Erasmu’s shoulder. It was a good thing that Kallias wasn’t looking, otherwise Erasmus wouldn’t have been able to put a hand on Kallias’s wrist over his stomach or rearranging his legs so Kallias’s knee fit between them.
You
The devil cast a curse upon me
No amount of holy water
I will not be redeemed
When my judgement will come
Only He can save me (
Kallias
)
Present day
It’s one of the increasingly rare days in which Erasmus is alone in his apartment.
Before Damen’s friends adopted him into their group it had only been Aden, Iphegin and Jokaste occasionally coming over for a celebration party or staying after a night out that stretched too long. Otherwise Erasmus had had his living space hardly visited or disturbed.
Now, it was odd not hearing the TV at full volume with one of Nicasie’s obnoxious reality shows, or Damen and Laurent bickering over sizzling pans, Nikandros somewhere in the middle grumbling condescendencies that aren’t heartfelt. Still, there’s always a space Erasmus feels is painfully unoccupied.
Erasmus doesn’t dare imagine how Kallias would fit, what stool he would sit on, which bed he’d sleep in, what color his toothbrush would be, if he’d rather drink Ancel’s unbearably sweet coffee or Nicaise’s orange juice. Even before that, during the quiet times, it was dangerous thinking about a second presence, familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, satisfying the void.
After talking with his agent and cooking himself a meal that barely makes it in his meal plan he lets YouTube play in the background, phone propped up on a water bottle as Erasmus scrolls through his recommended page.
His finger freezes over an interview. Kallias: Our beloved actor returns home .
It is not a sound decision to click on it.
It starts out with the usual pleasantries, getting up to date on how Kallias moved to America when he was fifteen to pursue his dreams and now, after almost a decade, returns to his homeland to star in the upcoming movie They Both Die at the End as Mateo Torrez.
Erasmus forgets about eating, fork gone slack in his grip.
“To start this interview with the right atmosphere, you know, on the subject of romance. Have you met your celebrity crush?”
“Oh. Wow. That’s… difficult to say. It ties really well into the whole topic of me coming back home, actually.” Kallias laughs to himself, “I suppose the short answer is no.”
“And the long answer?”
Kallias smiles, cocks his head regrettably. “Ah, well, I met–” It’s said slightly strained, and it reminds Erasmus of why he’d had to record his songs multiple times. “We met when we were children. I had barely done a few commercials back then, we weren’t famous, so I don’t think it counts.”
Erasmus has to chase away the thought that Kallias is talking about him. It’s wishful thinking. Kallias came to yesterday’s party with Kastor , it’s Kastor Kallias is talking about. He sure checks all the boxes. Erasmus had always been slightly jealous that Kastor, older and already gaining popularity, had somehow befriended Kallias. He was the one friend they didn’t share.
He stabs into his lettuce.
“Wow, it really does tie into why we brought you here today, it almost looks like it was planned.”
Kallias arches an eyebrow, a sly smirk on his face. “Are you trying to coax an answer out of me?”
The reporter laughs. “No, not at all, we just wanted an insight on your person. It’s been a while since there was news of your love life.”
“That’s right,” is the only answer Kallias offers, which would seem dismissive if anyone else did it, but he manages to make it understanding, nodding along to what the interviewer says.
“How has it been, now that you’re back in England– I mean, when was the last time you were here?”
“Five years.”
Erasmus did not know this. His throat threatens to close up. Kallias had come back at some point and Erasmus had to find out now ?
“Five years! You didn’t even come back for Christmas with the family?”
“Well, they usually came to me, and there– wasn’t any other reason to come back, so, no.”
“And now that you’re finally coming back, how has that been? Any old acquaintances, or perhaps this mysterious childhood crush?”
He narrows his eyes playfully, “Are you sure you’re not looking for a specific answer? You make it sound like you already know who my crush is.”
“I don't, that's why I'm so invested.”
Kallias smiles, shrugging. “In that case, I like to keep my mysteries,” and it sounds exactly the way Erasmus felt when he told Damen and Nicaise it’s complicated . “Anyhow, in the three days that I’ve been here I can’t say I had much time for socializing. It's been very hectic, moving and all the legal boring stuff that I still have to sort out. But everyone’s been very welcoming, and I keep surprising myself with how much people have changed for the better.”
Erasmus munches spitefully. That’s such bullshit. Kallias was always a social butterfly, but deep down he couldn’t stand people, it was people that flocked to him like moths to a flame, and being the wonderful boy that he was, he charmed everyone without even meaning to.
It’s true that Jokaste and Kastor have changed slightly for the better, but Erasmus knows Kallias hasn’t seen Aden and Iphegin now, becuse he wouldn’t be saying this. If Aden was a jealous snake even in their teens, now he’s worse, because he has fame to back it up. And Iphegin has reduced himself to such an insignificant shadow that the slightest flicker of light eradicates him. Erasmus mourns them sometimes when they sit around at a bar, what they used to be, the hope that was graspable when they were kids.
“Alright, so, you haven’t done a romance movie in a while. Is there a reason you decided to do those again?”
Kallias huffs, eyes mirthy. “It is true that I’ve only done action shows these past years,” he considers, cockinghis head to the side, and brushes away a curl that falls over his forehead. “There’s no real reason for it, expect that I was just simply going with what was popular at the time, I felt slightly pressured to take more manly roles, but now it’s, well, I’m going back to my home country, and I’m emotional, so,” he looks right into the camera and Erasmus pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth. “I thought I’d go for it, for old time’s sake.”