“If it were up to me –” Theo protested, but broke off before we wouldn’t be here, because you wouldn’t get married and just looked at him instead. His face contorted; the problem felt like a physical pain. If it were just a question of caring, it would be easy, but...
Once his father had left and he’d let any other plans for his future fall apart, Theo hadn’t spent much time trying to envision what his life would be – what the future could look like – but he had still, to some extent, known who he was. Maybe that wasn’t as true as he thought, though: because he had never expected to find himself in a situation like this, and never imagined he would be this torn about what to do. There shouldn’t be any question in it. He didn’t believe in being unfaithful; he didn’t want to play any part in destroying a marriage, however arranged or superficial it was; he knew right from wrong, and that should be an easy choice, too.
(But it was difficult to find any weight in that logic when there was nothing else stopping him from caving to Cash’s argument that he cared about Theo and apparently not about the rest of it. It would be selfish to stay, the most selfish thing he could choose, to keep what he wanted no matter the cost... but he cared about Cash in a way he hadn’t felt for anyone else before – he loved him, he thought; if this wasn’t love he didn’t know what was – and now he was supposed to look him in the eye and be a good person and give it up?)
“Cash, I can’t –” he started, struggling to find words, distress pitching in his chest. He worried his bottom lip and tried to picture it again, carrying on being with him and feeling so happy and ignoring everything else. He curled a hand into the front of Cash’s shirt, clutched at the fabric and begged him to understand. “How am I going to sit there and watch your matches next to your wife?” He almost wanted to laugh, because it was going to be unbearable even if they ended it – but, in the long run, he thought the guilt might be worse.
“And even if I could –” Theo said, suddenly strained, remembering something else that made the whole point moot. His jaw hardened. “You said it yourself: you can’t risk getting caught again.” There it was. It didn’t even matter whether he could move past the dubious morals of it. Forget what he might actually have been capable of living with if he tried: they should never have been together in the first place. (Maybe they wouldn’t have been, if Cash had told him all this plainly from the start.)
Because Cash’s father knew about him, couldn’t catch him again without dire consequence – and then there was the vow and the ruinous, unspoken repercussion of how things ended if Cash was ever publicly disgraced.
Theo couldn’t be the reason he was. Something in him was crumbling now; but at least that meant there was really no choice to be made.
Once his father had left and he’d let any other plans for his future fall apart, Theo hadn’t spent much time trying to envision what his life would be – what the future could look like – but he had still, to some extent, known who he was. Maybe that wasn’t as true as he thought, though: because he had never expected to find himself in a situation like this, and never imagined he would be this torn about what to do. There shouldn’t be any question in it. He didn’t believe in being unfaithful; he didn’t want to play any part in destroying a marriage, however arranged or superficial it was; he knew right from wrong, and that should be an easy choice, too.
(But it was difficult to find any weight in that logic when there was nothing else stopping him from caving to Cash’s argument that he cared about Theo and apparently not about the rest of it. It would be selfish to stay, the most selfish thing he could choose, to keep what he wanted no matter the cost... but he cared about Cash in a way he hadn’t felt for anyone else before – he loved him, he thought; if this wasn’t love he didn’t know what was – and now he was supposed to look him in the eye and be a good person and give it up?)
“Cash, I can’t –” he started, struggling to find words, distress pitching in his chest. He worried his bottom lip and tried to picture it again, carrying on being with him and feeling so happy and ignoring everything else. He curled a hand into the front of Cash’s shirt, clutched at the fabric and begged him to understand. “How am I going to sit there and watch your matches next to your wife?” He almost wanted to laugh, because it was going to be unbearable even if they ended it – but, in the long run, he thought the guilt might be worse.
“And even if I could –” Theo said, suddenly strained, remembering something else that made the whole point moot. His jaw hardened. “You said it yourself: you can’t risk getting caught again.” There it was. It didn’t even matter whether he could move past the dubious morals of it. Forget what he might actually have been capable of living with if he tried: they should never have been together in the first place. (Maybe they wouldn’t have been, if Cash had told him all this plainly from the start.)
Because Cash’s father knew about him, couldn’t catch him again without dire consequence – and then there was the vow and the ruinous, unspoken repercussion of how things ended if Cash was ever publicly disgraced.
Theo couldn’t be the reason he was. Something in him was crumbling now; but at least that meant there was really no choice to be made.
