#summmerryyyy

[lumosinlove]

Write Me In

Part Four

Leo was surprised that he slept at all, but when he woke up the next morning, the light was bright through the gauzy curtains and he sat up feeling like he was forgetting something. It was a trade off he’d learned to deal with. Either his insomnia kept him up all night, or he crashed hard and woke up wondering if he’d been asleep for a week. Or maybe it was just this place. He’d left a window open and the smell of the ocean was so heavenly that Leo nearly fell back into his pillows and basked in it. Until he remembered. Then he fell back into his pillows and tried to figure out what had happened last night, and what might be waiting for him out there.

He listened.

Guitar. Soft, beautiful guitar.

Maybe it had even been what had woken him. That, or the smell of coffee. Leo had seen about five different ways of making coffee in that kitchen and he tried to calm himself by seeing if he could figure out what they were using. It was probably impossible—it was just coffee—but he tried anyway. French press. Espresso. Stove top. Coffee machine, like the one Finn had forgone all of the fancier equipment for back in New York. Maybe he preferred it. What did Logan prefer?

They had wanted to be with him last night. Even worse, Leo had wanted to be with them last night. He could have been waking up in that master bedroom he’d caught a glimpse of. Logan and Finn’s suitcases both disasters on the floor. Now, the bed would be unmade. Had they stayed up late by the fire or followed Leo inside soon after? Leo had forced himself not to listen. He’d counted sheep. He’d counted waves down below. He’d counted his own breaths and heartbeats and all but forced himself to sleep so he wouldn’t count the ways that conversation could have gone or how that night could have ended.

And now Finn O’Hara was playing guitar in the main room—it was Finn. Logan picked it up sometimes but he wasn’t as nimble with it as Finn. So, maybe Logan was making coffee. Or it was only Finn awake with coffee and music and Logan was sleeping in as usual. He clicked on his phone. Eight-thirty. If Logan had his choice, he would still be sleeping. Leo tried to fight the twinge that came with the warm feeling that he knew that.

Leo forced himself to get up. He went to the bathroom, ran wet fingers through his hair, and looked at himself in the mirror. This tedious, nervous feeling didn’t reflect in his face. He looked rested and like he’d gotten some sun. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and regarded himself. He didn’t workout much. He liked the classes he went to with Cassie. He was usually the only guy, but he didn’t mind. They laughed as much as they worked but Leo always left drenched in sweat so he figured it was worth it. He looked like he’d always looked to himself. Maybe not as defined as Finn and Logan with their drumming and back-stage push ups, but he’d always been tall and lean.

He went to his suitcase and looked at his options. They’d walk into town today? They’d go to Logan’s nice restaurant? Would they swim and he’d change before dinner?

Were they going to send him home after he’d refused them? He needed to write.

Finn’s voice, muffled, filtered to him through the door, and Logan’s replied. So, they were both up. At the thought that they were waiting on him, Leo threw on a pair of light wash jeans—cool enough, he supposed—and a white t-shirt.

Everything you want, then Logan had said. Leo ran his hands through his hair again and closed his eyes. He wanted quite a bit, and none of it had to do with clothes.

He opened his door slowly and the guitar got louder without the wood blocking it. Leo paused, trying to recognize the song.

“—open doors,” Logan was saying. “And…hm. And open doors…”

“And admit that we won,” Finn replied, talking in a meter that wasn’t quite singing. “Begun, won. Not quite a perfect rhyme, but that’s…”

“Non, that’s good. I like that. When you sing it, it’s a perfect one.”

Leo’s heart picked up.

They were writing a song.

He was tempted to stay hidden and listen, but that felt like a betrayal somehow. Rude. This was private.

Finn began to sing, actually sing, if not a little quietly for Leo’s benefit, just as Leo rounded the corner.

“We tried to fight it off with—oh, hey.” Finn was looking at him, a hesitant sort of smile on his face. “Hi, hi, good morning.”

“Hi,” Leo said.

There was a pause. An obvious one. One that made Leo panic, just a little. Finn’s eyes were a soft, worried brown and Leo didn’t know what to do with that. Logan saved him.

“Salut,” Logan said. He was standing by the stove in a white linen shirt that was unbuttoned halfway down his chest and holding a stovetop espresso pot. He looked so tan against the white shirt, his hair wet and curlier than usual—from a swim in the ocean? It was pushed back from his face like Leo had seen it that first day at their apartment in New York. Leo glanced back at Finn, who was already looking at him. The expression on his face seemed to say I know, right?

Logan held up the silver pot and Leo made himself study that instead. It looked well-loved. Stained, the metal changed from the heat.

“Coffee?” Logan asked.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yeah, please.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Finn asked.

“Was everything���” Logan began to ask, then registered what Finn said. “Oh, ouais, yeah, did you…yeah.”

Finn laughed and gave him a helpless sort of shrug and it made Leo relax a little. They didn’t seem upset. Or like they wanted him gone. They seemed nervous, too.

“I did,” Leo said. “Sleeping with the window open and hearing the waves is so great.”

“I know,” Finn said. “Soothing.”

“I put a little bit of sugar,” Logan said. He nudged an espresso cup across the counter. “Because it’s good.”

“How much is a ‘little bit’ of sugar in your world?” Leo asked—Because it seemed like it might crack some of this worry between them, brittle and crystalized as sugar itself.

Logan’s smile proved him right. “I guessed at what your 'little bit’ would be.” Logan tilted his head. “I think I did good.”

Logan wanted to take them into town for breakfast. Leo wondered if the same car was going to come and pick them up, but it turned out Logan had other plans. He led them through a door—Leo honestly, at this point, wasn’t even going to try to map the house. It sprawled in directions he couldn’t even clock. This time they ended up in a garage that had two cars covered in crisp white sheets.

“Pick a color,” Logan said. “Yellow or green.”

“Oh my God,” Finn said. “Logan.”

Logan just smiled and shrugged. “Yellow or green, Leo?"

“Green,” Leo said instantly and Finn gave him a smile.

Logan strode forward, took hold of the closer sheet, and yanked it off in one flourish. Beneath it sat a pristine, gleaming Porsche. It was an older model, vintage looking with a low roof and a bumper that looked like a smile. It’s velvety dark green color was sleek and spotless.

“Wow,” Leo said faintly. “I mean, yes. The obvious choice for a ride to breakfast.”

Finn laughed loudly and it echoed in the room. “I know, right?”

Logan took a pair of keys off of the wall and tossed the other to Finn. “You’re yellow, Coeur.”

Leo blinked and saw a flash of Finn’s lips on Logan’s skin last night. Logan had just called Finn heart.

It was perfect. He and Logan zipped along narrow, cliffside roads in their green car with the bright racer yellow of Finn’s behind them. Besides the colors, they were a perfect match. Leo felt like he was in a movie with the engine in his ears. They couldn’t talk over the roar, not to mention the wind. Logan rolled all the windows down—literally. The card had cranks not buttons. The salty wind whipped at their hair and Leo knew that he might look insane when he got out of the car, but he didn’t care, not with Logan’s strong hands to study. He had one easy on the steering wheel, and dropped the other periodically to change gears. It was a little like the way he drummed. Just a different sort of rhythm.

They didn’t speak until Logan had to slow down because they’d entered a small town. A market was in full swing and everyone seemed to know Logan’s cars—and Logan himself. He waved out the window at two small kids as he pulled into a parking spot. They were jumping up and down and each holding a peach that was dripping down their arms.

Oh, Leo wanted to shop here. He clicked his seatbelt off and looked at Logan.

“Hi,” Logan said. “Fun?”

Leo nodded. “Fun.”

As they walked around, it became clear to Leo that he was going to have to add an entire section to his article that was just about Logan being here. Even his body moved differently. Leo and Finn walked a few paces behind him as he was greeted by nearly every vendor. They all exchanged kisses on both cheeks. Leo sort of wanted to see Logan kiss Finn on both cheeks.

“Beautiful, right?” Finn leaned over and whispered to him. He was in a white t-shirt like Leo’s, and soft looking blue shorts. Exactly which part of the scene in front of them he was referring to, Leo didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. His yes applied to all of it.

Leo was about to buy a few of the peaches he’d seen the kids holding when Logan appeared at his side and dropped coins onto the vendor’s table.

Before Leo could even protest, Logan was guiding him away with a hand on his back and holding something out to him in a flat palm. It was a small pastry nestled in parchment. It looked lemony, or maybe it was an almond paste. On top were two perfect raspberries.

“It’s the best thing you’ll ever eat,” Logan said in French. “I promise.”

“Big promise,” Leo said.

Logan laughed. “It’s true. I dream of them. I could write a song about them.”

“Oh,” Leo said. “Well, in that case.” He picked up the square sweet and took a bite. He’d been right about the almond. It was a sweet, nutty burst in his mouth beside the raspberries. The pastry felt like a thousand thin layers of crisp and butter. Leo closed his eyes and nodded. “Ouais. Yeah, it’s perfect.”

When he opened his eyes again, Logan was still there, gazing up at him with a bright, satisfied grin.

“Let’s get another,” Leo said.

“They sell out fast,” Logan said. “This was their last.”

“Did you get one?”

Logan shrugged. “I wanted you to try it.”

Leo frowned at the half pastry remaining at his hand.

“It’s okay,” Logan said. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

But Leo held out the other half. “Non. Tu en rêves.”

It was maybe one of the best parts of being here, seeing Logan’s face when he spoke French to him.

“You like it,” Logan said. “I can tell.”

Leo mimicked Logan’s shrug. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, then smiled. Eyes on Leo, he leaned forward and took the rest of the pastry between his teeth right from Leo’s fingertips. Leo hadn’t been expecting that. He could feel color rise to his cheeks as sure as he felt the sun on his neck.

“Just like you remember?” Leo asked to try and draw attention away from his red face. It came in a double force, though, when Logan raised up a thumb and brushed a crumb from the corner of Leo’s mouth.

“Better,” Logan said. The French word’s soft double L sound gorgeous in his mouth.

Leo self consciously touched where Logan had touched his mouth. He sort of wanted him to do it again.

“Will you write about this?” Logan asked. “I hope you write about this.”

“Our week’s almost up,” Leo said. “Pretty good finale, I’d say.”

Logan’s face fell.

“Mais…the week we agreed on maybe,” Logan said softly. “Or that was agreed on. By others who didn’t know that we…”

Logan dropped his gaze and Leo was right back in last night, the heat of the fire on his face. Finn and Logan’s open expressions and hopeful eyes. Leo glanced around for Finn and found him talking animatedly to a man at a stall of books. Finn O’Hara, Leo thought. He didn’t look like the rock star, or the heart throb, or the dream talk show guest. He was this sweet boy trying his best to meet that man halfway with bad French and hand gestures. Who got called heart by his boyfriend, who had a boyfriend, who wanted Leo’s voice to help them tell the world about each other.

“Would you…” Logan huffed. He looked around and then took Leo by the hand and tugged him towards an old set of narrow steps in the shade of a sweet smelling tree. Leo let him maneuver them into sitting, squeezed next to each other.

Logan fixed him with his bright green eyes. “Would you want to stay?” Logan asked. “You just got here.”

“You…You want me to extend the story?”

“I want you to stay.”

There was a whole landslide of other halves to that sentence. Leo couldn’t have guessed at a single one.

Leo smiled a little. “You know, I didn’t think you liked me when we first met.”

“No one thinks I like them when we first meet.”

The paper bag of peaches was cool on his lap. Logan had a bag, too, and when he caught Leo looking at it, he uncurled the top. Croissants, chocolate and plain.

“I was nervous,” Logan said. “It wasn’t that I didn’t like you. I was worried about the story. Mostly, I was worried you wouldn’t like us.”

“You didn’t even know me.”

“I knew you in the way you knew us,” Logan said. “Through your writing. Non, we don’t know-knoweach other, but we know each other. You can’t write without some truth. Can you?”

He had him there. “That’s true. No, that’s true. Okay…”

“Leo,” Logan said more seriously. He pushed their thighs together harder where they were already touching. “Will you stay? Only if you want to, of course, but…please. We want you to stay.”

God, did he want to. He wanted months of whatever this was. Whatever they were dancing around—because it was something. God, it was something. Leo didn’t sleep much but he had already dreamed about it. He just wished there was a way to tell them that he wouldn’t say it first. He couldn’t say it first. Right now, he was in charge of the most important story of their careers. If something soured—and Leo knew better than most how quickly things could sour—he didn’t want any more tangles than necessary. They had each other. They already had each other.

“I’ve told you how much you’ve meant to me,” Leo began. “And for how long.”

Logan nodded.

“And I’ve told you that you’ve helped me through some bad people and experiences.”

“Ouais. But we got interrupted.”

“We did, yeah. Yeah…” Leo sighed. “Well, the bottom line is, you’re not the first, um…”

“Le sujet,” Logan offered, then winced.

“Subject. Sure. You’re not the first subject who’s wanted to…” There was no better way to say it, honestly. “Sleep with me. That is what was happening last night, wasn’t it?”

“First, we would have wanted to kiss you.”

They both looked up just as Finn sat down, sitting sideways on the step below them so they had to lift let their legs go over his. When he smiled and pushed his sunglasses up on his head, he was Finn O’Hara for a second. It looked like a Vogue cover shoot. And then he tipped Leo’s bag to poke inside and he was Finn again.

Kiss you. He’d surely walked into some far-fetched dream of his own making. But, no, there they were. They were both touching him somehow. Knee against knee. Finn’s knuckles kept brushing his ankle. It was comforting.

“You wanted it to go somewhere last night,” Leo repeated. “Kiss, more…but that’s what was going on. I’m not wrong?”

“You’re right,” Logan said. He was blushing. Sweating a little, pushing his hair back. The market was loud and oblivious around them, and Leo wasn’t sure why this conversation was happening here, but it was.

“We didn’t just want to sleep with you,” Logan said.

“Okay…” Leo shook his head and looked at Finn. “The kissing your boyfriend in front of me didn’t really give me any clues farther than fucking.”

“Yeah…” Finn was rubbing at one of his eyes. “I think maybe we’re a little rusty on the flirting side of things.”

“There is no way your flirting is rusty,” Leo said, laughing a little. “Believe me, I think I’d know. I’ve been watching you for a week, you flirt with everyone.”

“No,” Finn said. “Nu-uh. I make everyone think I’m flirting with them. I make whole crowds think I’m flirting with them.” He turned to face Leo. “I flirt…or try to…with you.”

“We weren’t just trying to—” Logan looked horrified. “Là, what, quoi, have sex then goodbye?”

Finn dropped his forehead on Leo’s knee. “We were trying…” He looked up at Logan. “We should have just asked him out to dinner, like, obviously!”

“I did ask him to dinner!” “No, like, ask-ask. That’s not the same thing!”

“Okay,” Leo held up a hand, heart wildly trying to beat against his ribs. Everything inside of him hurt. He couldn’t tell if this was real or not. Mostly, he couldn’t see the infatuation. The short lived lust. Not here. With Finn and Logan, he just couldn’t tell. They both seemed—well, a little nervous, actually. Leo didn’t think he’d seen them so flustered. Ever.

“My job is to make the people I’m writing about feel comfortable,” Leo said. “And it’s been mistaken for attraction before. That’s just…” Leo held up a hand. “I’m just putting that down.”

“You weren’t just making us feel comfortable,” Finn said firmly. “Do you know how many journalists we’ve been around? God, so many and a lot of them are awful. They call my brother behind my back hoping to get some dirt or jealousy. I’ll turn around and they’ve opened one of my fucking notebooks. Leo, you are so different, you are so…” Finn looked at Logan for a moment. “I’ve loved your writing for so long. I read it to Logan, even your pieces from that blog you used to run.”

Leo flushed. “Oh—oh my God, what?”

His blog. When he’d been desperately trying to get clips to big magazines. Finn O’Hara—Read it to—

“You slipped right into us,” Finn said. “You’re gorgeous and you’re so smart and articulate…I think I could talk to you for hours. Nothing felt like an interview, you felt like we’d known you forever.”

“Forever,” Logan agreed.

Leo wanted to shake them. “Finn, that’s my job. I’m really fucking good at my job.”

“Yeah, but how often do you forget you’re doing you’re job because you’re happy, too?” Finn fired back, but then his eyes softened. He put a hand on Leo’s knee. “You felt it, too. You can’t tell me I’m wrong about that.”

“Yes, I—” Leo closed his eyes briefly. “Yes. Yes, of course I did. I did.”

He really could have talked to them forever. Sometimes he’d even forgotten there was a show to perform when they’d been laughing and talking in their dressing room beforehand. He could have listened to them forever. Logan’s little French mumbles. The way he closed his eyes when he practiced a song. They way his fingers drummed on every surface—they were twitching on Leo’s other knee now. The songs Finn sang around hotel rooms and apartments—not his own songs. His favorite songs. Leo wanted to know all of Finn’s favorite songs and why. They way they watched him cook. The way they showed their appreciation. The way they kissed each other. He wanted to brush his teeth beside them and crawl into bed and talk after turning the lights off until they were too tired. What a fantasy.

“Look,” Leo said. “I’m not just protecting myself here. Do I think you’re both—God, so gorgeous I can’t breathe, and sweet, and funny, and talented, yes. But I thought that even before I knew you. I’m trying to separate my skills from myself for your sake, and I’m trying to separate your stardom and your selves for my sake. And yours. Guys, you don’t want someone who wants you because you’re famous.”

“You don’t,” Finn said. “I know what that looks like.”

“We both do,” Logan said.

“I—okay. Of course you would know. But even still.” Leo sighed, heart heavier by the moment. He didn’t know if he was wrong here or if they were just good at trying to prove him wrong. “You have each other. You are asking me to write about your love for the first time in public and that’s a big deal. You two are going to get so much attention, it’s insane. And you’re telling me you like me, and you feel something for me, but there is going to be literally zero room for me when not only does your album come out, but this article. If you even still want me then.”

Leo was so out of breath it made his heart pound and stars appear at the edges of his visions. Those last words had come out a whisper. He’d said it, though. All of it. He’d needed the words and the words had been right there for him to arrange. Even more, Leo and Finn were both completely silent, completely still, and listening.

“I’ve been the thing that someone keeps in the dark before,” Leo said, keeping his eyes down. He felt Logan’s hand tighten on his knee. “Literally. He wouldn’t even keep the lights on when we kissed.”

Logan’s other hand appeared. Or Finn’s? They were all but holding whatever part of him they could reach now. Leo couldn’t push them away. Maybe right now he could explain to them why he thought he should be saying no, but he didn’t want them to let go.

“Am I very attracted to you both? Yes. Was it very hard to say no last night?” Leo’s laugh was half groan. “God, yes. But am I going to be kept in any sort of darkness ever again?” Leo swallowed hard, throat tight, and shook his head. “No. I’m…I’m sorry, but no.”

No sooner had Leo finished that sentence than did one of the little kids that had been practically hanging off of Logan’s body earlier launch itself over Finn’s legs and straight into Logan’s lap. She started talking a mile a minute—even Leo couldn’t quite keep up. Logan just stared. He held the little girl, nodding, smiling, but in a daze. Leo didn’t know if Finn knew his hand was on Leo’s calf, tightening and loosening, maybe as he tried to think what to do. What to say.

Leo was just beginning to suspect maybe he had said too much when the girl’s mother called her away.

They were still quiet. Leo could pick out each of their breathing. He looked at Finn, because his silence meant he still wasn’t convinced. Leo didn’t really want him to be.

“Logan told me that he thinks about the way he used to miss you, and misses you sometimes even when you’re asleep right next to him.”

Finn looked at Logan, lips parting. He didn’t look surprised, exactly. Just like it hurt to hear it again.

Leo covered Finn’s hand with his, drawing his eyes back to him. “That’s love. That’s what you have.”

Finn didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe we have more to give.”

Leo stared at him. Again—what were they doing, tucked away from the crowds in this little set of steps, talking about this?

Logan was so quiet, had been so quiet the whole time, that Leo had to look at him. Logan Tremblay. In what world did Logan Tremblay look at him like this? Like he was about to sing the chorus of I See Red, or leave the stage for Rooftop. The expression on his face looked real enough. Leo had to admit that.

“I don’t trust people,” Logan said under Leo’s gaze. “But I trust you.” When Leo went to speak, Logan pressed a palm to his chest. “Don’t tell me what happened on the balcony was your job. It wasn’t.”

“No. That wasn’t,” Leo said softly.

“How about this,” Finn said. “Stay long enough to get everything for the piece.”

“And we haven’t played you any of the new album,” Logan cut in.

“Oh yeah, yeah,” Finn said. “Hey, that’s in the contract for your piece.” He smiled. “You get to hear three songs.”

Leo couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Are you bribing me with your music?”

“Not bribing,” Finn said. “I want to know what you think. Always.”

“We.”

“We want to know what you think,” Finn said. “And we never said a word to your editors about this being more than just a music story, so…” Finn tilted his head. “Technically, we can all renegotiate and you…You can ask for more time with us?” He looked so, so hopeful. “And maybe, just maybe, we can show you that we’re not under some love-sick spell cast by your outstanding professionalism.”

Leo’s laugh was real this time, and so sudden that he covered his mouth. “Cast my by professionalism?”

Finn grinned and untangled himself enough to stand up. He offered them both a hand. “Come on. Let’s take our time.”

God. Finn O’Hara and all of his perfect words. “Time sounds good.”

~

It wasn’t a hard sell. The second Finn and Logan’s people told Leo’s people just how big this story would be, Leo was basically told to stay put for now, and Finn and Logan were told to only talk to Leo about this until the story was out and couldn’t be leaked. Essentially, they were told to talk, work, write, and not leave.

That had been five days ago. Leo was now thoroughly sunned, oceaned, and thinking a whole lot about Logan’s hand on his chest, Finn’s on his ankle, and kissing.

They went to the market nearly every morning. Leo had made a, if he could say so himself, perfect peach pie with the fruit he’d bought—Logan had bought. They’d been to Logan’s raved about restaurant and Leo had gotten his cheeks kissed by no less than six waiters. Logan had been right. He’d never tasted food like that.

They’d walked down Logan’s cliffs and spend hours lounging in the shade and sun and diving into deep, clear water. Leo had tried not to stare at Finn’s marble-pale chest in the sun. Logan’s tan-line that drew itself oh-so low on his hips. In his notebook lay the phrase couple of fucking mermaids that wouldn’t make it into any sort of writing but it was true.

Each night, Logan built a fire and Finn brought out a special wine—now Leo had seen him spend a good forty minutes with the man who owned the wine shop in town. Apparently it was a hobby of Finn’s. The other night, Finn had brought out a small bottle that was sweet and amber colored—and his guitar. Leo had gotten his first new song.

“Okay,” Finn had said. “So, this is called—wait, do you want your notebook or anything?”

Leo, feeling like Christmas morning, shook his head. “No. I just want to listen.”

“Cool.” Finn bit his lip. “Okay, cool. Cool. So it’s called…” He was looking at Leo, hand flexing on the neck of his guitar. “Um.”

“Rouge,” Logan said, sounding bewildered.

“Counting,” Finn burst out, laughing a little. “No, it’s called Counting. Sorry. Okay. Here we go. It’s about—” Finn waved his pick at Logan. “That one.”

Leo laughed. “That one?”

Finn shook his head, grinning down at his guitar as he gave the strings a small twist to make sure it was in tune. “That stupidly handsome person right there.”

Logan rolled his eyes and leaned towards Leo. “Imagine it with big drums. Sounds soft now, that’s how he wrote it, but on stage, on the album, I’m all in.” Logan grinned at Leo and he looked like he did on stage when Finn made him laugh into his mic.

“I think I can do that,” Leo said.

Finn began to sing.

One big game of hide and seek.

Count to ten and come find me.

I’m in here waiting patiently.

Tucked away and so ready.

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

We’re okay just still counting.

I’ll hold you and you hold me.

Strike a match so we can see.

Don’t worry baby, I would count it all for you.

I’d count the miles, the minutes, the ways tried and true.

Five and six and seventeen,

I’d count mountains, towns, and streams,

Sneaking cracks on dark ceilings,

Motes of dust in sunlight gleams,

I would count most anything.

Leo forgot about the glass he was holding. He had to set it down. He leaned forward, towards the warm fire. Finn was perfect in its light. His dark red hair, the orange glow, the tan, scuffed up wood of his guitar. Leo spared a glance at Logan, who was already watching him. He didn’t look nervous like Finn. He looked relieved. As Leo watched, he let out a breath and nodded, biting back a smile. Finn’s eyes were closed, fingers quick on the guitar, the heel of his palm standing in place for what would be Logan’s beat.

Days

And months

And years

Of him,

Skin

And laughs

And sinking

In,

There a first for everythin’,

Listen up, he’s mine.

He’s

The Sun

I’m basking in

Crash

Into

His waves and swim

Fills me up right to my brim

If I overflow it’s fine.

Listen up, he’s mine—

I could build a shrine

I would pour the wine

Worship till I die

The god I recognize.

Leo was more than used to feeling breathless at Finn’s music, but this song sucked all the air from his lungs. He knew that counting. He knew the feeling of striking that match. He didn’t know what it was to be with someone through it, but he certainly knew.

Finn settled his guitar carefully on the couch when he was finished. He was all nervous energy, rubbing his hands together and fidgeting. He rose briefly and poured Leo more wine before settling back on the couch.

“So, there’s—yeah. What do you…” Finn trailed off.

“It’s beautiful,” Leo said. “It’s…If I overflow, it’s fine. I love that. I really love that, you—and the counting, that’s just perfectly true. That’s so true…” Leo felt his throat closing up and took a slow breath. “God, Finn. Both of you…It’s—I’ve always thought you walk this perfect line between sweet and…”

“And?” Logan asked when Leo trailed of.

Leo had only done so because he’d realized what he had been about to say. He’d already written about it, though, which meant Finn had already read it, so he might as well. “Well. Just—epic. It’s an epic love, it’s—sexy. That’s how you write it.”

“Hm.” Logan looked pleased.

“I hoped you would understand,” Finn said. “I mean, I knew you would.”

“This is your first song using him,” Leo said. “No French girls met on tour, no room for misunderstanding.”

Logan grumbled something about French girls into his wine cup and Finn reached over and pulled him into a sloppy sort of kiss. Logan let his face be smushed into an equally joyful kiss on his cheek.

“None,” Finn said. “No more of all that. We want to be clear. On everything.”

Leo sat back against the cushions. “Everything.”

“Ouais,” Logan said. “Everything.”

~

Nearing the end of their second week, Leo and Finn were swimming. Finn kept diving down and bringing Leo little treasures from the bottom. He had this funny pair of goggles that he wore to do it. He’d push them down around his neck and show Leo shells and interesting rocks before tossing them back under. His body looked cool and pale under the surface.

Finn kept surprising him. Maybe that showed on his face because, as they tread water, talking, Finn tilted his head and asked.

“What?” Finn said, dipping his mouth low into the salt water before rising again. “What’s with the face?”

Leo brought his legs forward to float more on his back, laughing. “Oh. Nothing.”

Finn splashed him. “What?” He swam closer until Leo could pick out new freckles on his slightly sunburned nose. “What, what, what?”

They were near the rocky ledges and Finn pointed out a spot that he probably knew well, where two people could sit on a natural ledge just beneath the water. The stone was rough, but it put them in the shade and the calm waves lapped around their chests.

“You’re just…” Leo pressed his lips together, smiling.

“Okay, I’m gonna like, dunk you or something if you don’t—”

“You’re kind of a—” Leo shrugged. “A dork.”

Finn’s face was too good not to laugh at.

“I’m a what?”

“A dork,” Leo said. “Completely.”

“Excuse me.” Finn leaned closer. “I am not.”

“A dork,” Leo sighed. “Pop star dork.” Finn squinted at Leo in the sun, smiling. He still had the goggles around his neck and Leo reached forward and hooked a finger in them. “See?”

Finn hummed noncommittally. He’d let Leo’s hand nudge them closer together.

“Well, I guess that’s all right, then.”

Finn skipped his hand along the water’s surface. It was almost too bright to look at directly with the sun coming off it like that, and Leo leaned back against the rock and the shade, keeping his eyes on Finn instead.

“So—possible article question for you,” he said. “If it’s all right?”

“Go for it.”

Leo touched a sparkling vein of mineral in the rock, tracing his finger down it. “What’s it like when you first play Logan a song like that one you played me?”

“Like…what? A love song?”

“Well, yeah, to put it lightly. But…Listen up, he’s mine, I could build a shrine, I would pour the wine, worship till I die, the god I recognize. Love song…does that begin to cover those lyrics?”

Finn laughed. “Wow. I played that for you once.”

“You’re pretty unforgettable.”

“Shucks.”

Leo drew one knee up to his chest. “It’s…There’s something like I See Red to it.”

“Logan wrote that mostly.”

“I know. Exactly. The way you talk about each other. It is like…intense, I don’t know. I just mean—here. I’ll ask it this way first. What went through your mind when Logan played I See Red for you the first time?”

“Mm.” Finn smiled at the memory. “You mean what happened after he told me he wants me all over him?”

Leo tried not to show how hot his body flashed, burning, even in the cool ocean. He rested his chin on his knee, then his mouth, just to hide the wavering sort of inhale he took.

“If—whatever you want to tell me,” Leo managed.

Finn mirrored Leo’s position—knee up, hands locked around his ankle. “How would you feel if someone played a song like that for you? About you.”

“That’s my question.”

“You first.”

Leo rolled his eyes.

“That’s right,” Finn said, propping his chin on his knee like Leo with a sly sort of grin. “I’m a difficult little rock star.”

“Oh, are you writing an article?” Leo laughed.

Finn’s brown eyes stayed sincere and playful. “I don’t write articles.”

Leo stared at him. Finn was visibly holding himself back, even if he was leaning forward and kept looking at Leo’s mouth. Leo had to remind himself that he’d asked him to. Finn wanted him. Finn still wanted him, that was obvious. His brown eyes were a little bit of fall right there in the summer sun. Leo kind of wanted to be kissed on this ledge in the ocean.

I don’t write articles.

“What’s that mean?” Leo asked faintly.

Finn considered him for another moment. “You said you’ve had…clients fall for you before.” Finn looked especially handsome asking a question in his little melodramatic way. Leo didn’t know what it was, but he did. “Ever had a song written about you?”

Okayokayokay. “No…”

“Hm.”

“Not that I know of.” Leo swallowed. He tasted salt on his lips. “Now you. You have to answer.”

“You didn’t answer.”

Leo sighed, smiling. “I…” He tried to clear his head. A song. Lyrics that were so all-consuming. “I would feel…”

He didn’t know. It was almost unimaginable.

He hesitated for long enough, cheek pressed to his knee now, that Finn copied him in that, too, and helped him.

“Timeless,” Finn said.

That gave Leo a word. “Immortal.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Leo watched the sunlight play on Finn’s freckles. He was the picture of a high noon sun, and he was looking between Leo’s eyes and his mouth.

Neither of them saw the wave.

They got a face full of water to splutter through as it’s gentle crest went nearly over their heads, lifting them from their seat.

“They say every tenth one is the biggest,” Finn laughed. He put his goggles back on, grinned at Leo, and held up two thumbs up. “Lunch?”

He felt tan, and cool from the water as they made it back to the house. He didn’t bother washing the salt off his skin, just threw on a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He only realized when he glanced at himself in the mirror that he and Finn must have swapped on accident at the water’s edge. Instead of his plain white t-shirt, this one was white with a faded NASA logo on it. Leo’s pulse kicked up. He’d seen Finn wear this. On stage. Many times. It was famous on Instagram and Twitter. Replicas had been made. Girls wore copies of this t-shirt to their concerts.

Leo was standing here, wearing the original.

He took a breath before going back out to the living room.

Finn went off to write somewhere with his guitar, but Leo fixed him and Logan sandwiches and they settled in the living room, all of the doors flung wide. Logan was doing a puzzle. Leo had his notebook on his lap with a little section dedicated to transcribing the little murmurs of French Logan said as he worked. Not for the story, just for him. No, not there. This stupid blue. Wrong color. Ah, yes, here. This fits.

Leo sighed and dropped his pen, flexing his cramping hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked from where he’d been frowning over two puzzle pieces. Leo was still getting over the sheer sweetness of the intense-on-stage-Logan he had known sitting in front of him for an hour and putting a puzzle together. Leo wasn’t sure what the picture would end up being. Logan refused to look at the box lid for reference. It was face-down beside him. Again, Leo sort of wanted to laugh at how he’d thought it would be an all-night party every night. Nope. Late morning coffee, farmer’s markets, cocktails, and puzzles. Much more his speed.

“Yeah, good,” Leo said. “My hand just cramps up if I write for too long. Hand write, at least.”

“Hm.” Logan set the pieces he was holding down and pushed himself up onto his knees. He walked himself over to the couch that way and sank back on his heels at Leo’s feet. He held out his hands. “Give to me.”

“I—what?” Leo asked.

Logan just made an impatient sound and reached for the hand that Leo had been stretching out. He arranged Leo’s hand palm up with his fingers flat but relaxed. Then Logan’s strong thumbs began pressing into the heel of Leo’s palm, smoothing down towards the inside of his wrist. He pressed near his elbow too—Leo hadn’t even realized it hurt there.

“It’s all connected, the wrist, the fingers, it goes all the way to the shoulder,” Logan said. His accent got a little stronger here and Leo almost wanted to ask him to say all that again. But then Logan was kneading at Leo’s shoulder just below his collarbone and—

“Oh,” Leo said faintly. “That feels…”

Logan smiled. “Je sais. Finn is even better at it, I make him do it to me all the time.”

Leo thought about the way Finn liked to come up behind him or Logan, and the way he squeezed their shoulders. If he was putting effort and purpose behind that…Yeah, it would be heavenly.

“I like your shirt,” Logan said teasingly.

“I guess we swapped.”

“Mm. Guess so.”

Leo just tilted his head to the side and let himself relax in Logan’s hands as he worked out the soreness. He hadn’t realized his eyes had closed until he felt Logan’s fingers slowing. Finally, they stilled, both cradling Leo’s hand again. He opened his eyes to see green staring back. Logan had settled very close on the couch, but maybe Leo had drawn him there, too, unconsciously pulling him closer to where it hurt so that he could make it better.

Logan rested a hand on his chest, just as he had at the market. His eyes darted down to Leo’s mouth. Logan had a perfect cupid’s bow. So perfect. Leo wanted to take it in his mouth and feel its dip.

He’d wanted that in the ocean, too. Finn had a freckle on his lip, just at the border where pale skin met pink, and Leo just…God, he wanted it.

“Leo,” Logan whispered.

“Yes,” Leo said, hearing the question Logan hadn’t yet asked.

“Just one,” Logan said. “Please. Is it okay?”

What else would Leo do other than nod. He was running out of willpower. These boys. These shell-diving, wine-enthusiast, puzzle-doing, grumpy in the morning boys. He worried he was smiling a little too much and tried to take a breath. Tried to steady himself. Logan pushed himself up onto the couch, kneeling with on knee down so that Leo’s body angled towards him. One of his hands went to Leo’s thigh, bunching the fabric of his shorts.

It was the softest kiss Leo had ever been given. Logan lingered in it, though. A soft, giddy intake of breath and the lightest of tugs at Leo’s bottom lip.

Leo’s hand went to his waist, to the very spot he had been dying to touch. Near the tattoo. And the cupid’s bow, he could feel it. And the way Logan held himself perfectly still, as if letting Leo control the whole thing. The problem was, Leo’s mind was forgetting almost everything he’d said just a few days ago.

Here, they were just two boys.

Logan made a soft sound in his throat when Leo tilted his chin up to kiss him harder. It parted his lips and Leo tested gently, but Logan let him right in. He tasted the mint tea Logan had been drinking—seemingly the only thing he took without sugar. Logan’s fingers curled and held onto Leo’s t-shirt. Finn’s t-shirt.

Here, there felt like there was all the room for him in the world, even if he didn’t understand why they wanted him to begin with.

Here, it didn’t seem to matter that he was a journalist and they his subjects.

Logan broke the kiss gently, but stayed close. The string that would break Leo’s resolve hadn’t snapped, but oh, was it ever threadbare. Logan could probably feel how fast Leo’s heart was pounding beneath his hand.

“Ça va?” Logan asked faintly.

Leo had to swallow hard to find his voice. “Mhm.”

Logan nodded, the motion bringing their foreheads to rest together. He shifted and let out a sigh.

Leo realized he’d tucked his hands up and under Logan’s shirt and he just had to look down for a glimpse of that tattoo.

He got a lot more.

Logan’s shorts were straining around his hips. Leo got turned on so fast, stars sparked around his vision. The shorts were linen. White. Barely anything. They buttoned, not zipped, and those buttons were trying to hold on.

“Sorry,” Logan whispered.

“No,” Leo managed to say. He sounded weird to himself. “It’s—you’re fine. Very fine.”

“I just…” Logan laughed a little. He cupped a palm to Leo’s face briefly before pulling away. He flashed him a bashful smile as he turned back to sit on the couch. “Là, I mean, look at you. I’m…d’accord. I don’t mean to…”

Leo needed to say something more. He needed to say something not stupid. Something other than I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming right now.

“We’re taking our time,” Logan said. He took Leo’s hand and squeezed.

“I—no, we are,” Leo said. But if you wanted to sit on my lap right fucking now—

“Ouais,” Logan said. He was breathing slow, like he was trying to will himself to calm down. “Okay, so I will—be right back?”

They both kind of dissolved into laughter at that. Logan sat next to him, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Merde. Does this go into the piece?”

Leo had to stop laughing long enough to say, “In the middle of doing a puzzle, Tremblay had to be right back—”

Logan let out one of his free laughs and reached over blindly to shove at Leo’s knee. “Hey, take a look at yourself. You’re just as bad.”

Leo was trying very hard not to think about himself.

Logan rose, face flushed, and jerked his head towards the puzzle. “See if you can figure out that hellish thing over there.”

Leo watched as he disappeared through the doorway. Leo didn’t know if he was going to find Finn to help or go somewhere on his own to—well, fix it or calm down. Both thoughts sent Leo’s body aching. He had to lean his head back on the couch and breathe. He reached down and tried to make himself more comfortable, but it didn’t help.

He picked his notebook back up. He flexed his hand and picked up his pen. No use. He closed his notebook. He looked at Logan’s puzzle.

He took a deep breath, slid himself to the floor, and set about fitting a couple pieces into place.

~

Leo got called back the next morning via an email with airline tickets attached for the following morning. Apparently endless time equated a week more. Rather, Leo would be sent back out to a show when their tour started back up to write a follow-up snippet on what it was like playing shows as a couple.

But it left Leo a little frantic and disoriented. It left Logan and Finn staring at him with faces that were almost mournful when he broke them the news over morning coffee.

Logan punched Finn’s arm. “Be a difficult little rock star.”

Finn arched a brow at Leo. “Can I?”

Leo smiled, tempted to take Finn up on it, but he knew it was probably no good. He was supposed to be with them for a week. It’d been almost three. His boss would want their story polished and published, and Leo back in the office.

Only now here he was. His last night in this perfect place, unable to sleep.

The sleeplessness wasn’t new to him. He’d had insomnia ever since he could remember. It was only that it was here. He’d never slept so well in his life as he had these past few weeks.

It could have been worse. At least with all the extra space and the crashing waves, he didn’t feel worried about waking anyone up as he made himself some tea in the kitchen before trying to lull himself back to sleep by proofreading. Nothing exhausted him like proofreading.

He rubbed at his eyes as the kettle heated. He didn’t want to go. He didn’t feel like he had an old life. This felt like his life. Waking up and Logan making him that perfect bitter sweet espresso. Finn’s music all day long, soft plucks on the guitar, humming as they read together on the dock. Finn coming to peak over his shoulder while he was writing, stealing his pen out of his hand and adding seemingly random words. Blue!! Sunny!! Dazzle!!

The morning markets. Logan’s almond pastry. Puzzles and movies and how did he get here? Oh God, how did he love the hours of the day so much?

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Leo jumped hard, eyes flashing open as he turned. Finn was standing there in a well-loved t-shirt that said New York Rangers. He had his hands in the pockets of his cotton pajama pants and was smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Leo laughed, hand on his chest. “No, me. I mean, I’m sorry. You startled me. What are you doing awake?”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

“Lord, am I a hopeless sleeper,” Leo said. “I’ve been getting up at one in the morning and staying awake until three for as long as I can remember.”

“Oh.” Finn frowned. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“I’m used to it. What about you?”

Finn shrugged. “I think I heard you.”

“Fuck.” Leo felt his shoulders slump. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Finn said. “I was kind of already awake.” He paused and leaned his hands on the cool stone counter between them. “Was thinking about you leaving.”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Me too.”

“You really have to go?”

“You have to go, too,” Leo said. “You’re kind of on a world tour, you know.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Finn said. “Sorry, I’ve been doing more important things lately.”

Leo smiled. “Oh…I don’t know about that.”

Finn gave him this unconvinced look as he rounded the kitchen counter. He looked like he was on stage all of a sudden. Something about his walk. The daring look in his eye. Like he was about to say something to a crowd that was sure to get a reaction.

He stopped right next to Leo and crossed his arms, looking at him. Unlike Logan, they were almost eye-to-eye. Finn’s smile brought heat from Leo’s chest to his hips.

“I hear Logan got a kiss.”

That heat spread out farther. His cheeks. His neck. Finn’s eyes darted over his face like he was watching it.

“He did,” Leo said. Oh God, please kiss me.

Finn clicked his tongue like it was a shame. “Would’ve liked to see it, gotta say.”

Leo laughed a little. “Honestly, me too.”

Finn bit his lip. He was sort of smiling, but there was something else there, too. It was half hidden in the dim kitchen.

“Is it…Is it that you like one of us better?” A flicker of insecurity. “Because if—”

Leo pushed his hands against Finn’s chest. Stopping him. Holding him there. Brown eyes, bed-head, skin still salty from the sea. Leo had always loved Finn O’Hara. But Finn. This Finn was something else. This Logan… All of those fans didn’t even have a clue.

Leo couldn’t stand that hurt look on Finn’s face. He curled a hand behind Finn’s neck and pulled him closer. Like he’d wanted to in the ocean. Like he’d wanted to every time he heard him sing.

“Finn, I like both of you so much, it scares me.”

“Then…” Finn leaned closer, dropping his voice to hardly a whisper, so quiet that Leo more felt the words brush his own lips than he heard them. “Don’t I get a kiss, too? Before you go? Feeling a little left out over here—”

Leo didn’t let him finish. He pushed forward and kissed him.

His world went perfectly silent.

Oh. Leo grabbed onto Finn’s broad shoulders. Oh, oh, oh, Finn O’Hara could kiss. Oh, Finn could kiss, he could kiss, he kissed Leo like he would never breathe again and Leo felt himself sink. His chin tilted up, his body fell into Finn’s, and Finn took it. Finn held him.

He pressed harder against Finn’s body. Finn made a soft sound when his back hit the counter and his hands smoothed down Leo’s back, cupping his hips.

Finn managed to get out, “Are you—” before Leo was kissing him again.

“Yes,” Leo said. “Yes, yes…”

This was not Logan’s restraint. Not a single kiss. This was the sugar in Finn’s songs, the sugar that always applied to Logan in Leo’s mind. But Finn’s kiss was so all-consuming that it occurred to Leo that some of that sweetness had to belong to him. God, what could Logan do when he wasn’t holding back?

It took Leo a moment to figure out what sound was pulling at his mind and interrupting him. A strange, high-pitch—

“Shit,” Leo mumbled. “Tea, tea, tea.”

Finn didn’t even break away, though. He reached out a hand and flicked the stove off to stop the kettle from whistling.

The renewed silence rung in Leo’s ears. Finn’s palm was rubbing up and down Leo’s back.

Suddenly, Finn was hugging him tightly. His chin was tucked into Leo’s neck and Leo’s hand went to his hair automatically. That famous hair. Red and thick and soft. Leo turned his nose into it.

“You have our numbers,” Finn whispered. “And you know where we’ll be.” His brown eyes looked pleading when he pulled back. “You will choose a show, won’t you? Choose a show and come see us. The article will be out. I know there’s the follow up but—We’ll just be three people.”

Just three people. Leo thought of those little dressing rooms. That New York apartment. This place. But the fear was still there. Three people. Leo didn’t care what strangers thought. He cared about the aftermath of losing them, though. If he lost them…

Finn read it all on his face and he took Leo’s cheeks in his palms. He kissed him—this was closer to Logan’s gentle kiss.

“Come to a show and find out how much I want this,” Finn said. “Okay? Promise me. Or do I have to wake up grumpy and get him to tell you because he’ll probably just burrow in and not let you leave. Ever.” A brush of Finn’s nose against Leo’s. “He’s all about that kind of thing these days.”

Leo’s laugh spilled out, too much and too giddy for the night, but he didn’t mind. When he made to pull back, just a little, Finn took his arms and put them back around his neck. Leo couldn’t help his shiver as Finn’s palms ran down his sides and Finn pressed another smiling kiss to his mouth.

“If you wake him, I really will never leave,” Leo whispered. “And I do have to go.”

“Then promise me.”

Leo closed his eyes. He was so sure he’d be able to sleep just fine if Finn kept holding him like this.

“I promise.”