Chapter Text
What the hell is he wearing, Bella muses, slightly annoyed, when the first candid photos of Pedro on his way to the Met Gala pop up on their Instagram page. At least I won’t lose him in the crowd.
They’re still a bit far from to the museum, texting their mom to reassure her that everything’s fine, that they can spend the week in New York unattended, since both their assistant and agent apparently don’t count as enough supervision. Cora looks at Bella’s phone and giggles quietly beside them before going back to tapping at her own phone, probably talking to publicists and organizing their schedule for rest of the week.
It’s still early enough that sunlight pours through the window, reflecting onto the hundreds of tiny pearls and crystals that adorn Bella’s suit, as well as the watch their stylist got them to wear, a beautiful, diamond-studded thing that Bella’s sure is probably worth more than their car, something so exquisite (and expensive) they almost refused Fabio’s offer to wear it tonight. The sudden influx of sparkling light blinds them for a moment, before they turn into a corner and tall skyscrapers block the sun once more.
Bella looks at their phone again, staring with unease at the last message they sent Pedro, the mark beside it that meaning he read the text but still hasn’t bothered to reply.
It’s been two weeks.
They’ve sent him articles and music recommendations and random memes, but he didn’t reply to any of it, not even with an automatic thumbs-up reaction. Even though they’re both swamped with work and interviews and table reads, and even though Pedro is a notoriously bad texter, taking his sweet time to reply even on his good days, it’s the longest they’ve gone without talking ever since they first met. The silence has been a slow, vicious form of torture, making Bella comb over every one of their last interactions, trying to find what went wrong, what could have possibly made him start ignoring them.
They could’ve called him, but the idea of him not picking up, of them having to leave him a message just seemed insane, like they’d be lying flat on their back and admitting defeat; they weren’t special to him, if it got to the point of needing to leave a message for him to remember they existed. So, no, Bella hadn’t called him, just spent their afternoons feeling weird in their own body, doing math inside their room to avoid doing something stupid like calling Pedro in the middle of the day and asking him to talk about anything at all, just because they like hearing his voice. Bella misses him like a toothache.
He’s avoiding me.
It ends tonight, though.
Going through the motions on the red carpet is easy enough for Bella if they focus on the mechanical aspect of it: walking and looking ahead and playing with the fidget toy tucked inside their pocket when the noise and lights around them gets too much. They manage to forget about Pedro’s radio silence for a while, until one particular reporter mentions that he’s been cast in the Gladiator sequel, and what do you think about this?
Bella freezes, so taken aback by his name, by the news, that they can’t pretend to know what she’s talking about. What the fuck. Falling back into polite conversation seems to work once they’re forced to admit they had no idea about the movie, but the fact that they had to learn something from the press that Pedro could have (should have?, they greedily think) told them stings like a paper cut.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art is huge and clean and beautiful like they knew it would be, impressive in a way that almost manages to make them forget they’re in a room with hundreds of famous people. Bella accepts the champagne flutes and takes small sips, slightly more at ease now that they’ve moved away from the cameras, but still conscious of being seen by everyone. Eventually, the alcohol helps them to loosen up a bit, eyeing the clothes on display and pretending that they’re not looking for a red suit among the crowd.
When they finally cross paths, it’s almost dinner time, and Pedro is leaning against a column, all slick hair and wide shoulders and bare legs, twisting the golden ring around his pinky. Despite the half-lit ambience, Bella can see the small outline of the elephant tattoo above his knee, his body so familiar at this point that they could probably recreate him from memory alone. He’s chatting with someone, the wrinkles around his eyes in full display since he’s not wearing glasses, his face sporting a nervous half-smile.
Bella wants to hit him, but also eat him alive.
It’s easy to notice the moment Pedro sees them staring at him, the way his body and face morph almost like a magic trick. Pedro’s entire demeanor changes, and Bella has the strange, brief thought that it’s as if there’d been a different person wearing a suit made out of Pedro’s skin, and suddenly a veil was lifted, and the real Pedro is revealed to be there all along, eyes shining and already walking in big strides over to Bella.
He stops further away from them than he usually would, aware of how much he’d been giving away if he got too close, how people would be able to look at them and just know. Pedro can tell Bella’s mad at him before they even say anything.
“Hi.”
“Hello.” Bella replies, their face a blank canvas. “Your hair looks funny.”
“I know, I keep forgetting that there’s product in it, I’m trying not to mess it up too much.”
“Mmm.” They refuse to give him anything.
“You look really good.” He says, eyeing the many layers of fabric covering Bella’s body, almost like an armor. He tries not to picture what’s underneath all those layers, the mere thought of knowing what’s underneath being enough to send a ripple of desire running through his body.
“Thank you. You look really…Red.”
“I do,” Pedro hums, and then, because he’s unable to stop himself, “Do you like it?”
“It’s a nice suit.”
They haven’t made any effort to move closer to him, and the distance feels weird. Pedro was hoping that their conversation would go smoother than this, but he can’t blame Bella for being angry or confused at the very least.
He tries an explanation that’s only a half-lie. “I’ve been very busy.”
“I know. Congratulations on being cast on the Gladiator, by the way.”
Ah, shit. Bella’s voice is even and calm, but he feels the sting of betrayal all the same, the invisible asshole at the end of the sentence.
“Thank you, it was really sudden.” I wanted to tell you right away, he thinks.
“Okay.” I wish you’d told me, Bella thinks.
“It caught me by surprise.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Pedro’s aware that they’re speaking in codes at this point, masking accusations and defensiveness behind the vague conversation, but he’s still unsure of how to behave.
“I’ll see you later?”
“Fine.”
Bella moves quietly, mind racing with the pent-up desire to just yell at him. They both know better than to argue in front of other people, to give away the closeness of their bond, so it’s easier to retreat to their own tables when the waiters arrive with the entrées. Pedro eats his dinner in silence, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s staring at the back of Bella’s head two tables ahead of him, wondering how he got them into this situation, why he let things get this far. He knows he won’t be able to run away from Bella, has known for a long time, and he feels every bit like a coward for avoiding them in the first place.
But avoidance felt less scary than admitting he never thought Bella would happen to him.
Because that was the truth, the truth he had no idea how to explain. That, even though he’s arguably at the highest point of his career so far, even though he has friends, and family, and dozens of projects lined up, and more money than he knows what to do with, and somehow the whole world seems to know his name, the past weeks he spent isolating himself from Bella made him hollow, as if something was still missing.
And he didn’t know, still doesn’t know what to do with that realization, with the fact that he’s been slowly, but surely letting himself be seduced by Bella’s presence in his life, and, when he tried to diminish its importance, it felt like he was drowning, like sawing off a limb, some part of himself he didn’t know was vital until he suddenly found himself separated from it. Feeling their absence like a missing organ wasn’t in his plans, being put in this place of vulnerability, something so terrifying that he couldn’t face it, lest it would take over him.
To be fair, he never claimed to have emotional intelligence.
-
Pedro can feel Bella’s eyes burning holes into him when he escapes to the smoking section, uneasiness creeping up to a concerning degree after dinner, enough that chatting with some of his colleagues didn’t help at all. They manage to corner him easily enough, Bella’s suit catching the light in a beautiful way, sparkling as they move in his direction with purposeful strides.
“Hi, Bell.”
“Yeah, hi.” Bella points at the cigarette dangling from his hand. “I thought you had decided to quit.”
“I did, this is my last pack.”
“Mmmm.”
“What, you don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t.” They reply, and Pedro hears the impatience in their voice. Bella motions at the pack bulging from the front pocket of his shorts. “Give me one.”
It sounds like a command.
“I thought you said this wasn’t good for either of us?” He tries.
“Changed my mind.”
He plucks a cigarette from the pack, and Bella swipes it from his hand in a quick move. Before he has the chance to offer them the lighter, Bella takes a step closer, placing the cigarette between their lips and staring at him, waiting for him to connect the dots, as always.
They’re trying to rile me up, Pedro thinks, before leaning forward and using his almost-finished cigarette to light theirs, the tips connecting in a twisted version of a kiss. Bella’s staring straight at him as they take a long drag, and, for a moment, it feels as if nothing weird has happened, it feels as if they’re the only two people in the world, the way it always did. Their noses are almost touching, and Pedro smiles, wanting to hold them so fiercely he feels lightheaded.
And then Bella is retreating, avoiding his gaze, closing in on themselves again.
He coughs. “Did you like the dinner?”
“It was good.”
“I liked it a lot,” He replies, trying to make small talk before Bella eventually brings out the elephant in the room. “I saw you met Ke Huy Quan.”
Bella smiles at that, the first smile he’s seen from them the entire evening, and it almost feels like staring directly at the sun.
“I did, he’s really nice.”
“Did you tell him you saw Everything Everywhere All At Once before actually watching Indiana Jones?”
“No, that’s too embarrassing.” Bella replies, the memory of watching Indiana Jones with Pedro still vivid in their head, legs tangled on the trailer couch in between takes. He’s trying to distract me.
“Look, we need to talk.”
Damn, you really don’t waste any time, he thinks. “About what?”
“Pedro.”
“Bella.” He mimics them, trying to diffuse the tension.
“Okay, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pedro lies, taking another drag of his cigarette.
“Oh, stop it. You’ve been acting weird tonight.”
“No, I haven’t.”
His stomach twists when Bella rolls their eyes, clearly seeing right through him. Truthfully, Pedro knows he was fooling no one but himself by pretending things were fine, but it still amazes him sometimes how much Bella doesn’t take any of his bullshit.
Bella tosses the cigarette at the ground. “Fine, then, you’re acting normal tonight. Wanna tell me why you’ve been avoiding me for the last two weeks, then?”
“I just had a lot going on. I told you, I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“It’s true!”
“You’ve been busy before.” They argue, not strong enough to finish the sentence, to say you always made time for me.
“We probably could use some time apart, Bell.”
Bella whips their head to face him, incredulous. “What? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, people might talk about us.”
“Yeah, I guess they might. Since when has that mattered to you?”
The silence that follows Bella’s question is enough to tell them that Pedro doesn’t really believe what he’s saying, and that makes it worse.
They take a deep breath, trying not to get into an argument. “I just don’t know why you’re doing this, man.”
“I’m trying to give you some space, let you meet other people. I don’t want to crowd you too much.”
“When have I ever mentioned feeling crowded?”
“I know, but – ”
“Is this about the daddy stuff? Because it doesn’t bother me, really.”
Pedro’s face twists into a scowl so quickly that it would be funny if Bella wasn’t so frustrated. “No, it’s not about that.”
“Then what is going on?”
“I’m just very bad at staying away from you.”
Pedro knows they shouldn’t be talking about this so openly, especially in a place filled with celebrities and photographers and reporters, but he’s had a bit too much to drink and has been thinking about this for maybe longer than he should have, with no one to talk about. Bella’s staring at him with a puzzled expression, and he worries he’s coming across as just crazy.
“What are you talking about?”
“I just don’t want you to feel like you need to explain us to other people.”
He still doesn’t know how to articulate what he’s feeling. Can’t find the words to explain why every time he’s looked at Bella tonight, something ached inside him and his chest felt hollow, hands shaking with the urge to walk across the room and just hold Bella’s hand. Or how he’s been struck with this urge for the past few months, for that matter.
“Why would I need to explain this to people?” Bella asks, even though they’ve been approached five different times tonight with the opening sentence being so, where is Pedro?
“Because someone will demand an explanation, they always do. They’ll want to know what you’re still doing, hanging around with a fifty-year-old man.”
“Why do you care about this?”
“I mean, wasn’t this,” He gestures to the pair of them, “Meant to be just a test-run? A trial for you to figure out what you like?”
Bella freezes, slapped in the face by his statement. “Wow.”
Pedro runs one hand across his already disheveled hair. He wants to take back the words as soon as he’s said them, mad at himself for letting his denial turn into meanness, being cruel to someone who doesn’t deserve it. “Bella…”
“Wow, that was low.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
“Yes! Look, all I’m trying to say is, we don’t need to do this anymore. You can be with other people if you want. I’ve seen the way some of the girls here look at you.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
For all that Pedro has been stubborn in the past, this has been, by far, the stupidest argument he’s ever had. Bella cannot believe they’re about to have their first fight in the smoking section of the fucking Met Gala, if they can even call this a fight.
“Fuck you.”
“Bell.”
Bella forces themselves to stare at him through the shine of unshed tears. “No, don’t Bell me, you fucking idiot. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on? And don’t lie to me. Don’t try to be all selfless, either.”
“Selfless?”
“Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear. You do that a lot.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah, it’s incredibly irritating.”
The inflection in Bella’s voice is so painfully british that he smiles, endeared, despite the seriousness of their conversation. “Come here, let’s find someplace quiet.”
Bella nods, lets themselves be led back into the dinner area and through the crowd, loving but also hating the way Pedro’s hand splayed on their back seems to be doing its usual job of easing the tension out of their body with alarming success. They get cornered briefly by a couple of people wanting to be introduced, and Bella manages to down a couple more champagne glasses, washing away the cigarette taste making while Pedro makes small talk for five minutes before impatiently excusing them both. They move through the museum, going into corridors, crossing big rooms and vast, empty spaces, leaving the music and noise behind until they reach what seems to be a somewhat secluded spot, a door that almost blends into the wall and that opens surprisingly easily when they push it.
He ushers them inside and shuts the door just in time to hear the wonder in Bella’s voice.
“Woah.”
Suddenly, they’re inside an indoor artificial garden seemingly built specifically for this event, empty save for the lush trees and flower arrangements bursting out of every corner, surprisingly realistic grass and shrubs poking out of crevices in the artfully decorated wallpaper, so intricate they can almost smell wet soil and morning dew. It’s eerily quiet, as well, perfectly insulated in a way that prevents them from hearing the cacophony of noise that takes place just outside the door. The room looks and feels out of place, but there’s also a twinge of familiarity, like it could be part of The Last Of Us set, an abandoned museum left to its own devices, taken over by nature.
“Yeah, woah indeed.” He agrees, looking at Bella.
They turn to look at him, eyes softer than it was a few minutes ago. Bella takes a deep breath, then another, waiting for Pedro to speak. As angry as they feel right now, it’s also easy to see he’s clearly anxious, twisting and untwisting the rings on his fingers, smoothing the fabric of his coat. His movements make Bella want to soothe him, reach across the (small) distance between them and squeeze his hand.
Bella cracks their knuckles instead.
“Okay, we’re here.”
“Yeah.”
“So, go on.”
“You really want to know?’ Pedro sounds so fragile.
“I’m asking you, aren’t I?”
They’re both standing beside the low hanging branch of a very realistic-looking-but-probably-fake weeping willow, the thick, cascading leaves creating a curtain long enough to conceal them from whoever might enter the room.
In the half-lit space between them, Pedro realizes how close he and Bella are, close enough that he can see the glint of white eyeliner, the fine layer of concealer and foundation on their face, hiding some of the freckles he knows they have, freckles that he’s kissed before. He’s struck with the sudden, almost violent impulse to rub his hand over Bella’s face, smear the makeup so he can see their moles, see their face clean and scarred and perfect in an imperfect way, the way he knows them best.
“Do you remember what you told me that day we got stranded in the snowstorm?”
“What?”
“You were sitting in my lap, we were freezing to death inside the van.”
Bella blushes at the memory, thinking about how forward they acted, how desperate for attention and closeness. How badly they wanted him to want them.
“You said something about feeling real.”
“…Yeah, I know.” Their face twists in surprise, in remembrance.
“Tell me again.”
“I told you that sometimes I only feel real when you touch me.”
Even now, Bella’s words jolt him like someone lit a small fire inside his body, all warmth and surprise but also fear. Fear of the truth of them, of the way his own mind has slowly been catching up to it.
“I feel the same way.”
Oh.
Oh, wow.
“Oh.”
“Some days, I only feel like myself when you touch me, or when we’re together in some way, and somehow it took me being away from you to realize this, and I didn’t know what to do with it.” Pedro says in one breath. “I still don’t know what to do with it. I’m scared.”
Bella leans against the tree, gazing at the finely constructed leaves dangling close to their face, their white-green tinge almost glowing against the light. There must be thousands and thousands of tiny leaves floating gently, swaying with each breath they take. The trunk feels solid behind their back, surprisingly sturdy for something that’s probably made from plaster and paper-mâché. Maybe the tree is real, they wonder, maybe they somehow managed to plant a real willow tree inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Stranger things have happened, like the words leaving Pedro’s mouth right now.
“You’re scared?”
“I’m terrified.”
“Why?”
“Because – Because you’re so young, yes, I know we’ve talked about this before,” He motions for them not to interrupt him, too afraid of losing momentum and never being able to gather enough courage to speak again, “But it’s the truth, you’re eighteen and I’m forty-eight! We latched on to each other out of trust and proximity, but now we’re apart most of the time, and you’re meeting new people and doing new things. And that’s good, it’s what you deserve! I mean, I knew it would happen.”
“You’re meeting new people, too.” Bella doesn’t mean to accuse him, but he’s not making much sense.
“I know, I know. That’s a good thing. But something feels off. I keep thinking about you. I keep fucking missing you. I’m sleeping like shit again. I smoke too much weed, and go to the movies late at night, and sleep on Sarah’s couch, and try to meditate, but somehow none of it works.”
“So, you stopped replying to my messages because you… Couldn’t sleep?”
“No!” Pedro replies, voice bordering on exasperation, “I stopped replying because you shouldn’t need to deal with an overly attached man trailing around you like some lovesick puppy! You have your own life, I shouldn’t have been this dependent of you, and it’s not your job to put up with me just because I can’t get my shit together.”
Pedro’s words echo around them, just like the sound of his footsteps as he paces in circles beside Bella. They can only stare at him, mouth agape, trying to process his words.
Lovesick.
Is he in love with me?
“Pedro, are you saying –” Bella stops abruptly, lowering their voice to a half-whisper. “Are you saying you’re in love with me?’
“No. Yes, I don’t know.” He replies, because that’s the fucking problem, somehow this feels different from his past relationships, and that’s even scarier. It’s something he can’t place, doesn’t know how to fight against or how to compartmentalize into a neat little box inside his mind so that he feels like he has control over it. “I mean, I care about you, you know that, right?”
“I know, I care about you, too.” Bella reassures him, hoping their face shows more sympathy than confusion.
“I think something happened when we were filming, we spent so much time together, and we got so close and so comfortable, and then we started sleeping together. And it was good, fuck, it was amazing, it’s still amazing, but you’re so young! There’s so much going on in our lives, pulling us in different directions, not to mention you’re eighteen, I mean –”
“Why are you so hung up on this age thing?”
“Bell, I’m more than twice your age. You’re the youngest person I’ve ever been with, and sometimes I forget that. You still have a lot to live, you should be having more experiences with other people, people your age. But I also can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else.” He interrupts himself, heaving a sigh before continuing. “It feels like I can’t function without talking to you or being close in some way, and this doesn’t happen to me, okay? It just doesn’t. it wasn’t supposed to happen.’
The more Pedro explains himself, the more frantic he becomes somehow, his arms grazing the hanging branch beside them and causing the light to pour in through the leaves. In fact, Bella senses it won’t be long before Pedro starts having trouble breathing, judging from the way he’s acting now, still talking a mile a minute.
“I thought if I gave us some space, if I did other things, that it would go away, that I’d be able to function properly again.”
“Well, you don’t get to decide that all by yourself.”
“But I’m the adult in this situation!”
“Oh, so what am I, a child?” Bella says, “You’re being patronizing again.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, you’re right. Fuck.”
He’s anxious in a way that Bella has only seen before a handful of times, at the very beginning of their time in Calgary, when both of them were doubting their performances every other week, needing to rely on each other to stave off panic attacks.
“Pedro, you need to calm down.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Okay, come here.”
Hoping no one comes into this room and that the tree is large enough to shield them from view, Bella stands in front of Pedro, taking both of his hands. They’re cold and clammy, of course, another sign of his anxiety. Bella places his hands on their shoulders, mirrors the action by placing their hands on Pedro’s shoulders as well, fingers smoothing over the soft, thick fabric of the expensive red Valentino coat.
“Breathe with me.”
“I don’t think I need to –”
“Shut up, I wasn’t asking you.” Bella interrupts him, feeling like he needs them to take control of the situation. “Breathe with me, you know how to do this.”
He complies, too tired to keep fighting the urge to be close to Bella. They inhale and exhale slowly, the air around them smelling like wood and wet plaster and flowers, and Pedro can also smell Bella’s clean scent, something so familiar his body sags with relief.
Just like that, they are back where it all began, two bodies drifting towards one another, seeking comfort in any way possible. Bella squeezes his shoulders, forcing the tension out of him, trying to think of something to say that doesn’t prompt another anxiety crisis.
“Better?”
Pedro nods, taking a small step closer, their foreheads now touching. He’s so tired of running away.
“A couple of weeks ago I watched one of our interviews. You know, from that insanely long day. I saw the way we act when we were together, and I got so scared. Scared of people watching that and knowing. Knowing just from the way I act around you. God, it felt like someone had slapped me in the face. It’s so obvious, Bella.”
“What’s obvious?”
“I love you. Fuck, I might as well say it, I’m in love with you.” He laughs, exhausted and delirious. For such a big feeling, he said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Something weird twists inside Bella’s chest, a confusing mix of excitement, surprise and disbelief, but also fear. I’m in love with you. It’s so disorienting to hear Pedro say that they almost want to ask him to repeat himself, needing to make sure they’re not hallucinating or projecting. His gaze burns as he stares, still so close he almost looks cross-eyed.
Bella knows he’s waiting for their response, for some kind of reaction, but they’re unsure of what the next move is, unsure of what that could mean for them. It feels like they’re wading through murky waters, completely unaware of what lies beneath the surface, with no previous experience of swimming in such a deep ocean of feelings.
“I felt so confused.”
“I didn’t mean to shut you off. I didn’t know how else to deal with what I was feeling.”
“I thought I’d done something wrong, or maybe you got sick of me. You just disappeared.” Bella’s voice is barely a whisper now.
“I’m sorry, Bell.” Pedro’s voice is shaky with regret. “I’m so sorry.”
They almost want to kiss him, especially now that they’re so close again, breathing into each other’s faces. This is how it should be, how they should have always been, and they’re mad at him for making them doubt it.
“Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t, I missed you too much.”
“Yeah?” Bella asks, knowing the answer but needing him to say it all the same.
“Are you kidding me?” He pulls away from them, face twisted in mock offence. “I missed you so, so much. I thought about calling you every day.”
“Well, you should have. I missed you, too.”
“You did?”
Bella stares at him, incredulous. “Pedro, do you actually believe this thing you have going on is one-sided?”
“…I mean, you haven’t said anything about the whole me being in love with you thing. Not that you have to, I don’t – ”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence, being interrupted when Bella throws themselves against him with enough force that his back bumps against the tree, causing the leaves to sway around them, their swishing almost sounding like cascading water. He wastes no time before wrapping his arms around them, squeezing their bodies together until he hears Bella’s oof at being crushed.
“You’re so stupid.”
Their voice is muffled by his shirt, but he understands Bella all the same. Pedro laughs.
“I know.”
“Let me show you something.”
Bella leans away from him, smiling at the way his eyebrows furrow in confusion as they carefully loosen the tie around their neck, enough to reach two fingers inside the collar and pull a thin silver chain into view. A chain that holds the ring Pedro gave Bella on the last day of filming.
“Bell.”
Pedro’s voice is so filled with wonder, with disbelief as he reaches for Bella’s hand and they let him, content to be held, to just be close to him, finally. His eyes are shiny with unshed tears.
“I throw myself at you every single time we see each other, why would I do that unless I also didn’t want to be close together?”
“I don’t know, Stockholm Syndrome?” Pedro jokes, and the punch he receives makes him feel lighter, ironically.
“Stop that.” They giggle, somehow still trying to wrap their head around what’s happening. “I can’t believe you thought I wasn’t in love with you.”
“You’re in love with me?”
“Pedro, I just told you I loved you, like, five seconds ago.”
“I know, but that’s – That’s different.” He’s struggling not to cry, voice shaky with wonder. “I knew I cared about you, loved you in some way, before I understood that I was in love with you.”
“Oh.” Bella hums, wondering how to make this distinction, if it’s even possible. “Well, I am. In love with you, that is. I think I’ve always been, even when we weren’t sleeping together.”
“Oh, shut up.” Pedro scoffs, eyebrows rising in surprise. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Also, I’m not saying that I want that, but if you want to stop having sex, we can just, you know, start over. The way we were before. If it feels like we’re doing things backwards, or if you want some space away from me. Just don’t keep me away again, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Pedro says.
“So, do you want to stop it?”
It’s been a long time since they’ve slept together, or even kissed, for that matter; too aware of being close in public spaces or in close proximity to a camera. Pedro knows they don’t have to, knows that the closeness they both seek, while physical to a concerning degree, doesn’t rely on sex. They could just hover around each other indefinitely and it would be enough.
Still, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it.
“No, I don’t. Do you?”
“What? No, were you even listening to me?” Bella replies, face blushing beautifully.
“Okay, then, it’s a deal.” Pedro rearranges the position of their hands, turns it into a handshake. “I really want to kiss you, but there are probably cameras in here.”
Bella feels their body grow warm by his admission; having Pedro return to his too-honest state is refreshing after weeks of silent avoidance. They pace around the room, feet tingling inside stiff, fresh-out-of-the-box shoes, a million thoughts racing inside their mind. Does this mean they’re dating now? What’s going to happen next? They almost want to say fuck it and kiss Pedro anyway, but he’s eyeing the corners of the room, mouth twitching anxiously. Maybe later.
“Are you really that afraid of what people might think about us?”
“I’m worried about what people might say about you,” He replies, “I’m afraid of giving you a bad reputation, or this being something that people get comfortable enough to discuss openly.”
“You think that can happen?”
“Anything can happen. That’s the worst part about being a public figure; sometimes people think they have the right to know everything about you, and I’d hate for this to happen to us.”
“Yeah, me too.” Even though his way of going about it was twisted by anxiety and fear, Bella understands what Pedro was trying to do. Closing off instead of dealing with things is something they’re familiar with, for better or worse. “You should have told me you were feeling this way.”
“I know.”
“Did you talk about this with someone?”
“Who could I’ve talk about this?” He replies, voice comically high. “Did you talk to someone?’
“…No, I just read scripts and rearrange the furniture in my flat over and over.”
“God, we’re a mess.” Pedro laughs, moving closer to Bella until he can count their eyelashes. Now they’re in the shade of long, wispy branches, so he reaches over and touches Bella’s ear, stroking their earlobe and the downy skin of their neck. He can almost visualize how it’s the perfect spot for him to give them a hickey, turn their neck from pale to red to purple, tender to the touch when he runs his fingers through afterwards. “Do you think people are looking for us?”
“God, I hope not. You?”
“Eh, I don’t think so.”
“I mean, you’re the man of the hour,” Bella jokes, laughing at the way Pedro winces, always bad at receiving compliments. “I bet everyone wants a piece of you.”
“Well, I’m not sure it’s possible for me to break into any more pieces tonight, I’m exhausted.”
“I know, me too.”
They lean against the tree in silence, unsure of what to do next, of how to move forward. Bella feels lighter, in a way. It’s a wonder in itself no one interrupted them, no one else found this place; they wonder what someone would think if they stumbled into the room, dizzy, half-drunk and looking for a place to make out, and found them instead.
“I didn’t think my first Met Gala would be so… Eventful.”
“I didn’t mean to spoil your night.”
“You didn’t,” Bella says, leaning on his shoulder, “I’m just a bit overwhelmed.”
Pedro leans closer, rubbing his face on their temple. “What do you wanna do?”
Kiss you. “You know.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah.”
He traces the buttons on their suit with a light finger, breath warm on Bella’s cheek. “Tell me, anyway.”
“I just want to be alone with you.”
“Mmm.”
“Mmm.”
“We could just…Hang out?”
“Hang out?”
“Yeah,” Pedro says, and then, before he can think too much about it, “Let’s go to my place.”
Bella’s eyebrows rise in surprise, aware of how Pedro usually avoids staying at his own apartment. “Really?”
“Of course, let’s go right now.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, I want to be somewhere we don’t have to hide.”
“Oh.” Bella smiles, blushing profusely at the implications of his words. “I’m actually mostly free this week.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“I have an interview to film on Friday, but the other ones I can do remotely.”
Oh, shit. “I have an interview early tomorrow, back at the hotel.”
In times like these, Pedro hates how committed they both are to their craft, how he and Bella can’t say no to things, always on the mindset of taking opportunities and being a good sport. My life would be easier if I was a diva occasionally, he thinks.
“You can arrange with Rachel to get picked up in the morning.”
“You sure?”
“It will give me time to actually do the loads of laundry I’ve been avoiding.”
Bella laughs at that, their free hand now fiddling with the ring that sits close to their chest, maybe touching it with more intention than usual just to see the way Pedro’s eyes keep darting in that direction. Their clothes feel uncomfortable and stifling suddenly, layers of separation between them when all they want is to be closer.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, let’s go to your place.”
Pedro’s eyes widen in surprise when Bella starts moving towards the door. “Right now?”
“I don’t see why not. Unless you want to stay and chat with one of the Kardashians?”
His giggle is worth making the corny joke. “Oh, God.”
“Yeah, didn’t think so.”