Chapter 4
The next morning, Miles ventured into work feeling like a man who’d been folded, spindled, and mutilated. His mother had worked him over thoroughly yesterday, and he’d been lucky to escape the lecture with his testicles still attached to his body. His father hadn’t said much, but then he hadn’t had to. He’d simply turned a disapproving, disappointed stare on his only son for the length of time that his wife was lambasting him. That had been incredibly effective. He’d felt like a misbehaving little boy again, like the time he’d broken the neighbors’ window with a baseball when he was eight. And their censure had been bad enough, but worse had been the fact that he’d effectively spoiled their anniversary party for them. And Melanie was totally pissed at him, and wasn’t even speaking to him at the moment. She’d driven the distraught Farley home, and afterward had returned to help clean up after the party. From the look she’d given him before she’d stomped off into the kitchen, she wasn’t going to forgive him anytime soon…
It was horrible to have his whole family be so mad at him all at once, but worse was the memory of Farley’s expression before he’d run away. Miles felt lower than low. Now he knew that he had to apologize, even if he wished that he could just leave the country rather than doing that. His stomach was knotting as he approached Farley’s dressing room, and stopped at the door. He knocked on it, saying: “Farley? Are you in there? Can I talk to you?”
For a moment it looked like the room was empty, but then the door opened. Farley appeared in the doorway, and Miles felt another twinge of guilt when he saw the dark circles under the light blue eyes. “What do you want, Miles?” the weatherman asked tonelessly.
“Err…” he hesitated a bit. Farley had never spoken to him in quite that tone of voice before. “I just want to…em…apologize for what I said yesterday at the party.” Miles began.
Farley folded his arms over his chest. Miles noticed that he was wearing a plain grey sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans, the least crazy clothing he’d ever seen Farley clad in. “Is that all?” he asked quietly. ‘Because I have to get ready for the show.”
Miles didn’t know quite what to say to this. Seeing his perplexed expression, Farley sighed and shook his blonde head. “Miles, all you did was say how you really feel,” he began, his voice cold. “You hate me. I get that. I’m not going to hang all over a guy who thinks that I’m an airhead and a disgrace, and that I make him look bad just by being myself. I’m not going to change who I am for you or anybody else. I just thought…” he shrugged wearily, “That you were a great guy, but that you just needed somebody who could make you laugh and not be so serious all the time. And maybe I thought I could be that guy, sure. But I got the message yesterday - I’m not that guy. Fine. I’ll leave you alone from now on. You have my word on that.” and he shut the door in Miles’ face with a sharp click.
Miles just stood there in the hallway, wondering what had happened. Had that actually been Farley Koninger talking just now? He felt dazed, as though he were living in some kind of strange dream. He walked slowly off toward his own dressing room, still not sure if he wouldn’t see the Twilight Zone host show up at his door at any moment.
Miles finished his segment, and the camera swung toward the weatherboard. Farley smiled at the camera brightly. “Good morning, folks!” he cried. “Well, it looks like Spring has finally sprung a bit! Let’s hope it stays that way! Anyway, on to the weather!” he turned to the board and began his cheerful weather report.
The only difference from all of those months before this was that the blonde never once looked over at the news desk, or said anything about Miles. He’d been like this ever since the day after the party; he hadn’t spoken to Miles once, inside the studio or out, since he’d closed his door in the newscaster’s face. He chattered away at the rest of the staff, and still wore his flamboyant costumes many times when he did the weather; but he acted like Miles didn’t exist at all.
He should be pleased. He’d finally gotten what he’d wanted - Farley Koninger had left him alone. No more on-air flirtations, and no more hanging off of his arm. No more giving him migraines with his endless cheerful chatter. No more blinding him by shoving his ridiculous outfits in Miles’ face. Just no more Farley.
And he was. Really pleased. The one cloud in his blue sky was that his family was still not very happy with him, but that would pass eventually. And then he’d be able to bask in his Farley-free life. Right. That was the ticket. He was totally happy with the situation as it was.
The director was waiting to talk to them after the show was finished. “Farley, Miles!” he called. “Great show. Anyway, we’re doing so well that the producers decided that we need to add another person to the team and lengthen the show to two hours. I’d like you both to meet our new Sports and Entertainment man, Damien Hunt.” he waved a hand at the man standing behind him.
A dazzling white smile was turned on them both. “Hi, Farley, Miles. I’m a big fan of your show. I’m really psyched to be working with you both,” Damien Hunt said smoothly, although his eyes were fixed on Farley’s face. He walked forward and held out his hand to the weatherman.
Farley took the proffered hand. “Nice to meet you, Damien,” he said, looking rather dazzled over how handsome Damien Hunt was. The man was dressed expensively and very well-groomed, and also ruggedly good-looking. “Welcome to our little family,” he added rather coquettishly.
“Thanks, I’m looking forward to being a…member…of this little family,” Damien fairly purred, his fingers caressing over Farley’s as the weatherman lowered his lashes.
Miles frowned. He already didn’t like this Damien Hunt, right off the bat. As he watched Damien flirt with Farley, his hands involuntarily balled into fists at his sides.
Miles was sulking. Not that he would ever admit that fact in as million years…but it was so. He sat at his news desk and glowered at the desk across the way, where Damien Hunt was doing his daily piece on Sports and Entertainment news. He had to sit here until Damien was done and they wrapped for the day. Had to sit and watch as the charming, oily bastard flirted relentlessly with Farley…
Miles drew in a heavy breath through his nostrils. It wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact that Farley flirted in return, making eyes at Damien and saying all of the things about him that he’d once said about Miles. Commenting about how handsome Damien was, and making double entendres aimed at him as he did the weather…it infuriated him. He tried to tell himself that was because he didn’t like it when Farley acted like that at all, that his flamboyant gayness was the real problem. And he’d almost convinced himself of that fact - almost. But the rational part of his brain kept prodding him relentlessly, pointing out that the thing that made him the angriest was the fact that Farley was now giving Damien the attention that he’d always given Miles in the past. While he just barely managed to ignore this rational area of his brain, it wasn’t easy. He really had to work at it.
He knew that this was all his fault. That Farley had been ready and willing to be with him if Miles had only given him a chance. But knowing that didn’t ease the volatile combination of jealousy and anger that churned in his stomach every time that he saw Farley flirting with Damien, or hanging off of his arm as they left the studio together, or touching him in all of those little ways that he’d once touched Miles. And because their news program was a daily thing, he had to see them together every day of the week!
Right at the moment, he was especially irritated because Farley was perched on the edge of Damien’s news desk while he did his piece. The weatherman was wearing a decidedly skimpy costume today, too - a sailor outfit designed for a teenage girl, with a short pleated skirt and a mid-riff baring white top. A sailor hat was perched jauntily on his blonde curls, and he was smiling down at Damien in a manner designed to make steam start to trickle from Miles’ ears. His long bare legs were crossed over each other, and if Damien wanted to he could reach out and touch one of those pale limbs. Could run his big hand over it, heading for the parts barely covered by that damn tiny skirt…
Miles ground his teeth together and forced himself to look away. He simply couldn’t watch this anymore. He tried to tell himself that Farley and Damien deserved each other, that he should be grateful that the weatherman had turned his attentions to Damien instead and was leaving him alone. That’s what he’d always wanted, right? Yes, of course it was. And he was pleased by the turn of events. Right.
A vision flashed behind his eyes that made his entire body stiffen and go rigid. An image of Farley’s white body sprawled out naked on Damien’s bed, while the light-blue eyes looked up seductively from under the long dark lashes, and pink lips lifted in a sultry smile of invitation as Farley lifted his arms enticingly…Miles heard a low sound emanating from his throat, and had to clamp his lips shut against it because he wasn’t supposed to be making any sounds while they were on-air. His hands closed tightly on the top of his desk, clenching tightly. His nails cut into the skin of his palms, and that helped clear his mind a little.
Finally Damien was done. He bid his audience goodbye, and Farley waved merrily at the camera. The light turned off on the camera, and the director gave them their usual “Good job.” Miles sprang to his feet and strode away, not looking back. Not that there was any reason for him to, anyway. He’d only see Farley smiling at Damien, and batting his lashes at him. He’d already seen enough of that kind of thing to last him for a lifetime.
He reached his dressing room and went inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He stood there for a moment trying to recover his temper and his equilibrium alike. He lifted his hands and rubbed at his temples, feeling the pounding tension headache throbbing there. How long had this been going on? Almost two months now. Two months of pure torture. How much longer would he be able to stand this? Maybe he should try to find another job before this one drove him to an early grave.
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