~*~ Simon was unusually quiet during dinner, barely touching his food and hardly acknowledging Randy’s presence at all. Small talk came and went and by the time they’d finished eating, the tension was almost unbearable. Usually, they would have walked the two blocks back to their apartment, enjoying the springtime weather, but Simon suggested a cab instead, further proving that something was most definitely wrong. “So Roy said it might be the best production the theater’s ever seen. Sales are up from last year and everyone’s riding this incredible high, waiting for opening night.” He hung his jacket in the closet, grabbing Simon’s off the chair and shoving it in behind his own. “That’s good. I’m sure you’re going to be great. You always are.” The tone was less than enthusiastic, definitely lacking interest and it was beginning to piss Randy off. His hands flew to his hips, accusing, “What’s your problem?” Simon finally glanced up and locked eyes with his. The hard lines of anger slowly slipped away, turning into something else. Something softer for Randy’s benefit. It wouldn’t do to ask questions now. Not when he wasn’t ready to hear the answers he already knew he’d receive. That is, if Randy would be honest enough to tell him the truth. “I’m just tired. Come to bed with me?” Just a small hesitation and Randy nodded, flipping the light switch behind him, leaving only a soft glow from the small lamp next to the sofa. ~*~ Post fuck, Randy was nestled in the crook of Simon’s arm, waiting for him to fly off to the bathroom as usual. He was already counting down, ready to go to sleep while Simon showered the smell of sex off his body. He let his mind wander to thoughts of Gale for just a moment, to the way he liked to hold Randy after they’d fucked, not wanting to let him go. To his surprise, Simon wasn’t budging right now either. His fingers were trailing lazy circles up and down the soft hairs along Randy’s arm, while the room remained impossibly quiet. Something was definitely wrong. He was more than certain now. Simon’s need for cleanliness, above all else, was something almost compulsive. After a few more minutes of lying in silence, Randy opened his mouth to ask again what was wrong but Simon beat him to it. “I found your phone.” “What? Where?” “It’d fallen down behind the cushion of the chair in the study.” Randy’s confused frown didn’t go unnoticed. “I never had it in the study.” Simon shrugged. “I might have picked it up thinking it was mine.” Randy settled, relaxing a bit. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He paused. “Did you put it back on the charger?” Simon didn’t answer; instead, he shook his head slightly, pulling his hand away from Randy’s arm. After enough silence to make Randy uncomfortable, Simon finally said, “So how long?” “How long for what? What are you talking about?” Simon turned his head, searching Randy’s eyes, showing him the heat and anger in his own. “How long have you been fucking Gale?” And that’s the moment Randy’s stomach sunk. “What?” He pushed away and sat up, pulling the sheet across his lap. This wasn’t the conversation he thought he’d ever have lying naked and exposed in bed with Simon. Oh, he’d imagined Simon finding out and confronting him, but even his wildest thoughts couldn’t have conjured up this scenario. “He called, by the way. Left another message saying he was sorry again and that he’d see you this weekend. That was what… seven? Eight messages?” Caught, with no way out. “Simon…” “How long? I deserve to know that much. Has it been going on all along? Were you fucking him in Toronto?” Randy leaned his back against the headboard, closing his eyes. “No. It never happened while we were filming.” Simon shook his head and slipped from the bed, grabbing a pair of shorts from the armoire near him, and slid them on. “Why should I believe you?” He looked up, hating the pained look he saw, knowing he was the cause. “Why lie about it now?” Simon got quiet. Too quiet, obviously trying to regroup. Finally, his frown deepened as he began moving toward the door. “Gale Harold. Fucking son of a bitch.” He opened the nightstand drawer closest to Randy, grabbed the cell phone and threw it forcefully onto the bed before stomping out of the room. Randy took a few deep breaths, trying to gain his composure. It was time to be a man and own up to his feelings. He reached beside the bed and grabbed his jeans, followed by his t-shirt. Dressing quickly, he went in search of Simon.