The Open Secret

5

So it begins.

They meet once or twice during the week, sometimes at the office and often at his flat in the evenings. Their trysts are never long, no more than one or two hours. Entire nights are luxuries they can't afford. Stolen moments are all they lay claim to, and it's a challenge even to find those sometimes, but they do. Being a politician is already a bit like being a master of deceit, Rob realizes, and it's worrying how naturally it all comes to him: the secrecy, the sneaking around, the lies. It should make him feel dirty, and at times it does, but when they're together, the chaos behind his eyes dies down. The outside world fades to nothing. So does the guilt.

He wonders how Jesse feels. He has never asked, and probably never will, but sometimes he can't help but be curious.

Living across the country half the week and working in The Hague the other half has always felt to him like leading a double life. Now, it is even more so. For half the week he lives at home, the faithful lover, keeping a candle lit for his partner and tending to his life there. The other half he is the consummate politician, deputy leader of D66, charismatic and bulletproof, and his.

It is untenable, they both know that. This can't go on indefinitely. One day, they'll slip and be discovered, and it will be their undoing. Rob is shocked at how little he cares, sometimes. Things like that happen to others who are more foolish, more careless. They aren't.

Coalition talks drag on through the end of October, and by November seem to have led nowhere. Rob has grown weary of the late nights, the egos and internal squabbles. D66 had bowed to the pressure to negotiate with Christian Union under the threat of new elections, having no other option, and if they can't achieve more of their priorities in this cabinet as a result, they will look weak, both he and Sigrid know that.

They've squandered any advantage they gained in the election, the papers jeer. They're right back where they began, with their old coalition partners they only ever worked with out of necessity. Still, they can't seem to make any headway. It's pathetic.

His frustration with it all bleeds over into his personal life despite his best efforts to silo it off, and he snaps at Jesse one evening in his office as they're dressing. He doesn't remember what for - some ill-timed smartass comment, probably - and regrets it immediately afterward, sinking onto the sofa with a sigh.

He half-expects him to snap back, but Jesse doesn't. Instead, he just walks over and sits beside him with a look he takes to be concern. The lamplight gleams in his eyes, which are as dark as coal, pulling him in. Jesse's tie is crooked, and one button popped off his shirt in the process of disrobing. He has the pleasantly tousled look of someone who has just been turned inside out, and it dampens his anger at once.

"I know we said we'd separate work and play," he begins with his hands clasped in front of him, "but what is it? You've been short with me all day."

Rob hesitates. He shouldn't tell him confidential things like this. It would be insanity to feed the opposition information, but Jesse no longer feels like the opposition. He feels like one of the few genuinely on his side.

"The formation," he says finally, as he runs a hand over his face. He's almost too exhausted to hold up his head, and sex hadn't done much to ease the tension in his muscles like it usually does. "It's a nightmare. I hate working with Christian Union. They're blocking our expansion of euthanasia, even though we made it clear that was non-negotiable if we agreed to work with them again. I don't want to govern with them. They'll just drag us right back to where we were four years ago. More of the same."

He pauses and glances over at him, a disturbing realization creeping into his brain.

"Oh, God. I sound like you."