The Trials of Being Loved

Part 20 - Who Needs Healing, Orca?

New slept. He slept until dark, scaring Tay who didn't realize how badly the medication made you sleepy. Even when hunger finally drove him out from his cocoon, he was groggy. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he wondered where he was. 

It wasn't the first, second or even the last episode he probably would have in a strange environment. Waking up in hotel rooms, alone, wrapped up tightly, with a tear stained face, usually with his manager pounding on the door, telling him he had to be on set in one hour, or two.

This time, it felt weird. It felt different. It felt safer. Like he hadn't been alone the whole time. 

He dragged himself off the bed, and stumbled to the door on legs that didn't really want to work, his bladder forcing him to the bathroom. His body was working from memory. The smell of food hit his olfactory glands and his belly rumbled loudly. 

Laughter. Loud laughter. Ignoring it, hand against the wall, he pushed forward to the bathroom and sighed as he relieved himself. 

"I wasn't sure if I should wake you or not." New blinked the remaining sleep from his eyes, refraining from rubbing, and met Tay's in the mirror. He leaned comfortably in the doorway, watching him piss. "Is it normal for you to sleep that long?"

His voice sounded rough, deeper from being unused, made worse from all the crying. "Yes." He didn't have anything else to say. He watched as Tay held out his hand. 

What? Why? Still slightly wobbly, New leaned forward and looked. Oh fuck, the damn pill. He opened his mouth without a word, refusing to touch it. He hadn't washed his hands yet. Tay wasn't stupid. He was careful. He pushed the pill in, and made sure he swallowed. He finished urinating, washed his hands and faced him, as he blocked the door. 

Now, they just looked at one another. Tay sighed and dropped a light kiss on New's forehead, surprising him. "Food is on the table. Come eat." He turned and left, leaving New's head spinning, biting his bottom lip hard. 

Other than his mother, no one had ever seen him spin out of control. He was better at hiding it. He had to be. He had an image to maintain. He had private outbursts with his manager - who didn't? Those didn't count... at least, he didn't think they did, because everyone still believed he was a nice guy and he knew better. 

He was the farthest thing from the public image he worked hard to hold on to. Like the company and his manager kept screeching in his ear, "If only... he could stop fucking around, he would be perfect!"

"If only... he would get a fucking degree." His dad said, "In case being an actor didn't work out. So he did, a bachelors in engineering, with a Masters in Accountancy. He needed the control over his own life. He contemplated returning to school and becoming a lawyer but decided that was too much education. He needed some fun in his life, even if studying did keep the highs and lows from being too high or too low. 

"If only... he had friends." His mom said, "So he wouldn't be lonely." Yeah, look how well THAT had gone. Men saw him, with his good looks as a threat, even in the industry, and when he became friends with women, his fans went delusional. 

"If only..." He muttered, leaning both hands against the counter and looking at his reflection. "If only I wasn't an actor and had stayed a model, I might have survived to be a human being."

His life was like learning to surf without a board, a wetsuit or a teacher. 

Sighing deeply, he splashed cool water over his face as Tay yelled out, "Newwiee, get over here, food is getting cold!" 

He raised his face and stared at the spikey hair that now framed his damp face. "If only I knew exactly what the fuck Tay is doing with me." He turned, grabbed a small dark towel that smelled exactly like Tay and dried his face, leaving his hair to dry.