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It was difficult for most people to tell when Damiano was getting bad again. The signs would always start small, normal enough to be passed off as the natural consequence of their busy schedule. But Ethan could always tell when a smile was a little too forced or one too many lunches had been skipped.
At first it had made Damiano angry. How dare anyone try to tell him how he felt or what he needed. He had lashed out the first few times Ethan had tried to get him to rest or talk things through. Now he barely put up a fight.
When it became clear Ethan had noticed his tells, there was still a struggle. He’d brush off any attempt to talk about his feelings, resorting to giving Ethan a full silent treatment and acting like he didn’t exist. But he’d give in eventually, he always did.
Or at least, he always did before. It had been three weeks since Damiano stopped talking to Ethan unless absolutely necessary, and he showed no signs of giving that up anytime soon. Which meant whatever was wrong must have been serious. Ethan ran it over in his head again and again, trying to figure out what could possibly be so different right now as to keep Damiano locked away in himself for so long. They’d had rough tours before, had fans do unspeakable things to them, but he always managed to come out of it with a smile, laughing it off or demanding group hugs to recover.
Whatever this was, it needed to stop. For the sake of band cohesion but also for Ethan’s own feelings. Being brushed off like this burned , creating a growing sickness and desperation inside him. With each little rejection the sensation grew worse, blocking out anything but how badly he needed Damiano to touch him, smile at him, look at him. He was suffocating and needed to find a way to break them both out of this spiral before he drowned completely.
“Oh come on, we’ve done nothing but work and sleep for months. I think you can handle one night going out with us.”
Ethan got the chance to make his move a few days before they were scheduled to go home. They had been given one whole day off between festivals, a perfect opportunity and plenty of time to get Damiano to open up. The only problem was Vic’s insistence they all go out clubbing together.
“It’s been so long since we’ve gotten to do something together just for fun. We have no shows, no other concerts we want to go to, and no rehearsals scheduled. When are we ever going to have a chance like this again?”
Thomas sat quietly in the corner, already dressed to go out, looking hopefully between the other two boys as if he could will them into joining them.
“Fine, I’ll go,” Damiano stood up from where he had been lying on the bed in Vic’s hotel room.
Ethan grabbed his wrist and pulled him back towards the bed.
“Please don’t. I’m not going and I don’t want to be left alone here.”
Ethan knew just asking wouldn’t work. Damiano would never agree to stay behind if he knew what lay ahead. He felt bad about the half-lie, but in the end it was likely the only way to talk Damiano out of spending the night flirting with the entire world instead of thinking about his real feelings. Trying to look as tired and pathetic as he could, Ethan pulled Damiano back down onto the bed with him, dragging him closer in a show of hypothetical loneliness. Damiano rolled his eyes in tandem with Victoria, both believing Ethan had much less innocent intentions for the night. Nonetheless, he straightened himself out and let Ethan hold him, resigning himself to a night in.
Victoria huffed and led Thomas to the door, “at least go to your own room, I don’t want you two ruining my bed.” Ethan and Damiano dutifully followed her out, relocating to Ethan’s room at the other end of the hall. With the door shut firmly behind them, Damiano leaned against the wall, already reaching to pull his shirt off.
“How do you want me?”
“What’s wrong?”
Damiano froze, hand gripping the hem of his button down, clearly startled at the sudden blunt acknowledgement of his recent behavioral issues. For once it seemed he was at a loss for words. Ethan didn’t break his gaze, silently but firmly waiting for an answer. He wasn’t expecting everything to come out at once, but they’d never get started without it being clear what tonight was about.
Damiano sighed, running a hand through his hair. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he should have seen it coming. If Ethan had just wanted to fuck he would have said so back in Vic’s room, he wasn’t shy about it. Maybe he thought he could redirect the plan, distract him and get out of having to actually think about his feelings.
When he finally did find his voice, it came out unbearably small:
“Can I sit down?”
It was barely a whisper. Soft, higher pitched, and so intensely pathetic Damiano wanted to melt into the floor. Ethan softened, regretting his forcefulness. Clearly there was a problem much bigger than he expected. This was more than tour stress or wanting to go home. So he let himself relax and nodded gently, lightly pulling his boyfriend towards the soft hotel sheets, to make him as comfortable as possible for whatever was to come. Damiano laid himself back, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to find the words to explain himself away. He allowed Ethan to run his fingers through his hair, a calming gesture that was meant to reassure him but just made him more conscious of what he could lose. After a few minutes of silence, Damiano managed to begin.
“So I’ve never,” he took a deep breath, “I’ve never said this out loud. I don’t think I’ve ever even really thought about it consciously, at least not with words, so I’m not really sure how to explain it.”
“Try?” Ethan offered softly, trying to be encouraging.
Another few minutes passed quietly as Damiano gathered his thoughts, trying to verbalize what had always been easier to conceptualize as vague sensations or suppressed desires.
“I feel…wrong. Not about you or about what we’re doing or anything like that, I’m happier than I could ever have imagined being, but something about me isn’t right. Some days it hurts to see people. I feel like I’m not actually me and like I’m lying to you all about something. And then there’s touring and some of the shit they make me wear and things the fans say and call me…it’s all so much and it all makes me feel a little more like I’m not myself. But I don’t know who myself is. Except when-” he stopped abruptly, cutting off his rambling before he could risk saying too much. But when he looked up, Ethan was watching him expectantly, not a trace of judgement in his face, only a sincere desire to help. Tears beginning to well up in his eyes, Damiano finished his thought.
“Except when I’m putting makeup on. Or jewelry. Or skirts. Or when Vic calls me a girl as a joke.” He took a deep breath, the tears running freely down his face now. “I think-god I hate this-I think I am one. A girl,” he squeezed his eyes shut as he finally made his admission, not daring to look at Ethan’s immediate reaction. He could hardly breathe, terrified now that his secret was out in the open.
The silence lasted several minutes, as Damiano regained his ability to breathe and Ethan tried to process what he had just heard. He thought back through years of knowing his best friend (and more recently boyfriend), looking for any sign that he should have seen this coming.
Damiano had always seemed to have a little extra glow to him when he wore skirts, when people complimented his makeup, when he put on a hyperfeminine attitude for the stage or the camera, shattering people’s expectations of a clear masculine leader. But that’s all it had ever been before, wasn’t it? Fucking people’s minds, making a statement. It hadn’t seemed deeper than that, it just looked like an extra rush from pissing people off.
But maybe Ethan just hadn’t looked close enough.
He could fix that now. He gently touched Damiano on the shoulder, rolling him over to look him in the face.
“Okay. How can I help?”
Damiano was shocked. He (she?) wasn’t being abandoned, wasn’t being questioned or waved off, met only with acceptance and support from the person he needed most.
“I don’t really know. I haven’t let myself think about this a lot so I don’t know what I’d want…”
“That’s okay, you don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, and I’ll always be here if there’s something you want to try.” Ethan brought Damiano’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly and keeping him close. He never wanted him (her?) to think he’d leave over something out of his control or for being himself.
“I’m proud of you for telling me. Now let’s get those tears washed off your face, this is supposed to be a happy moment.”
This of course only made Damiano cry more, but now with a wide, bright smile breaking through. Feeling safe and finally in himself, he let Ethan lead him to the bathroom for a nice hot shower, to wash away the questioning and anger of the past weeks.
For tonight, this was enough. To be kissed and held and gently cleaned, not thinking about telling Vic and Thomas, or their management, or their fans, or anyone else. For now it could be their secret, so much more bearable having been shared. The warm water pulled him together and let the insecurity run down the drain with it, just leaving him and his love and the whole world of potential ahead of them.