Regiphobia

The Lie

Goda avoided Juan that day. He started by getting himself up and covering the bruise with makeup. It wasn't perfect, so he stayed in his room as much as possible. If anyone noticed... he didn't want to have to deal with the questions and the stares. He did come out for dinner, though. He slipped out of his room, to the elevator, and down to the dining hall. He walked in, head down. His eyes were trained on the floor. He couldn't muster up a smile.

He took his seat just as plates of food were being placed in front of people. He ate silently, not looking up. Not until later in the meal. He glanced around the room, and his eyes locked with Juan's for just a moment. He was standing against the wall. He looked... god, it made Goda's heart hurt. He watched as Juan quickly mouthed "storage room one." He nodded in response, and Juan looked relieved. He looked back down at his food, eating slowly. He felt disgusting, even eating this much. He hardly finished half of his meal when he got up and left.

He made his way to the third floor. Across the floor, to the first storage room. He walked inside, pretending to look for something as long as he was in view of the camera. He made his way to the far corner. Leaning against the wall, he let out a shaky breath. He wanted to give up. He wanted to cry and leave and just let Gabe do what he wanted with him. He wanted to collapse into Juan's arms and never get up. He wanted to curl into a ball and die. He wanted to give up already. Tears were streaming down his face. When did that happen? He didn't realize that this meant-

Juan rushed over to him, "Goda! What's wrong?" Goda closed his eyes. He felt strong arms wrap around him, and he pulled himself against the other's chest. He shook like a leaf, holding onto the front of Juan's uniform. He felt a gentle hand run through his strawberry locks. Gentle touches, a soft grip, being right beside the man he knew he loved- it felt better than nothing.

Juan pulled back when he stopped trembling. He put a hand against the other's cheek, eyes widening. "Who... Who did this to you?"

He didn't realize the crying would wash off some of the makeup.

He quickly shot his hand up to hide his cheek, "It's- I was j-just being clumsy, don't worry, it's noth-thing-"

"Goda..." Juan whispered, taking his hand off the bruise.

"I just f-fell," Goda said quietly.

"Was it your dad?" Juan asked, "If he hurt you again, I'll-"

When Goda looked down, tears still streaming, he stopped asking. He just held him close, feeling useless. It felt like waves were sweeping at his feet. He tried to ignore them. It didn't work too well.

"It wasn't him," Goda mumbled, leaning into the other. He wanted to just ignore it all. He wanted to not have to think about Gabe or the bruise or his leg or the wedding or the trial or any of it. He just wanted to be here, in Juan's arms. He never wanted to have to leave. He wanted to just let Juan carry him away. He knew that would never happen, though. It hurt him, so, so badly.

"Are you OK?" Juan asked after a while.

Goda shook his head, and Juan sighed. "Why did you run off earlier?"

"I... I don't want to t-talk about Gabe. Please."

Juan nodded. If he was smarter, he might have put two and two together. But he was nowhere near as bright as his brother. If he was half of what José was, he might be enough for Goda.

He pulled Goda closer, kissing him lightly. He didn't know what else to do, but it seemed that Goda was calming down a little. He pushed back the burning behind his eyes. He couldn't cry in front of Goda. Not yet. Maybe one day. He pulled the other ever closer, wanting to forget their situation.

Meanwhile, Gabe was sitting in his study, staring blankly at the several papers he had yet to read. He sighed, standing up and pacing around the room a bit. He was still pent up. Hitting Goda could only do so much. He wanted to hold him against the wall, to take his knife, to-

He took a breath. "Just another month, Gabriel," he mumbled to himself. Well, a month and a week, at least. It would be better if it was a month and just under two weeks, but he didn't know if he could wait that long. Not with all the shit Goda had pulled in the last two weeks alone. He ran a hand through his blond hair, closing his eyes.

He eventually walked back to his desk, sitting down and getting back to reading. It was incredibly hard to focus on his work. Not when he had Goda on his mind. Beautiful Goda. Darling Goda. Perfect Goda. Fucked up Goda. He sighed again, resting his chin in his hand. Liar Goda. Secret-keeper Goda. Fucking Goda. Why couldn't he just be good? Why did he keep having to teach him the same lesson, over and over again? Wasn't once enough?

Apparently, it wasn't, because he kept lying. He kept trying to hide things from him. Him, Gabe, the one who always found out. He would always know, no matter how hard Goda tried to hide it, no matter how long it had been a secret. No. Matter. What.

He wouldn't let Goda slip away.

Goda didn't have a say in the matter.