THEN
Wolfgang woke up sweaty when the bed shifted behind him. He still had an arm around Rajan’s waist, his head on his chest hearing the thump thump thump of his heart. Kala withdrew her arm from Wolfgang’s waist and got up, walked to the window and stood for a moment with her eyes closed, soaking the warm Paris sunlight.
She was so beautiful, her naked body a dream from which he didn’t want to wake up. He rearranged himself on his back, looking his fill. If he was here last night —in the flesh, wrapped between both of them—, then he was allowed to look; if this was a dream, there was nothing wrong with looking.
The morning light filtering through the windows gave the room a dream-like quality, the kind of dream people used to defend the existence of God. Not for the first time, he wondered what happened now: after Lila was killed, after Whispers was dead, after people stopped hunting him —hunting Them. Wolfgang went back to Berlin? Kala went back to Mumbai? They have a repeat of Positano? Weeks ignoring each other to avoid the awkwardness? Were they going to ignore those feelings after what happened the night before?
His chest felt a little tight with the realization that no matter what happened later, he still had the night before. If all he had was a night, then that night was worth it.
Kala stretched her arms above her head, her lean body arching slightly and Wolfgang’s heart skipped a beat. When she took the stretch from over her head to the tip of her toes, the muscles of her calves and quads straining, he swallowed a gasp.
Wolfgang startled as Rajan touched his arm. “Are you okay? You look a little breathless.”
He didn’t have time to linger on how long Rajan had been awake —looking at him— because Kala turned around then, a soft smile playing on her lips. She gave them a lewd look so obvious that Wolfgang didn’t need a direct line to Kala’s thoughts to know where they were drifting to. “Good morning.”
He glanced at Rajan’s flushed face, his chest still beaded with sweat, and swallowed loudly.
If Wolfgang could have a little of this morning, that wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
NOW
Like many mornings before, Wolfgang woke up between Kala and Rajan. He didn’t open his eyes just yet, content to bask in their warmth for a little longer. He was stealing time from the fates, but was it so bad to dream of them together a little longer?
For the first time since they’d been doing this —whatever this was—, Wolfgang got up without a soft kiss on his forehead. Usually, Kala was the first one out of the bed, her hands lingering on them as she left the bed, stretching before taking up the shower. Sometimes, Wolfgang was content to lay next to Rajan until he woke up with Kala’s singing and started fussing around the room for his things before heading out for work.
While Wolfgang was in Mumbai, he was free to do whatever he wanted. He could stay in Rajan and Kala’s apartment watching TV all day, he could go for walks around their fancy neighborhood, he could take the subway and ride it all the way to the end of the line and back, listening to music as loud as his phone would play it. If he wanted to, he could come to work with Rajan and Kala; in fact, he’d done so a couple of times: hung around like a foreign friend of them, a business associate. People didn’t care to clarify what was Wolfgang’s relationship to their bosses.
Being back in Berlin with both of them felt strange. Only Kala had come with him when he visited Felix, Rajan always had meetings to go to, fundraisers to host, elbows to rub here and there. For a while, visiting Berlin felt like playing house with Kala, a sliver of the thing they could’ve had if they’d had the chance. Maybe the life they would’ve had if Lila hadn’t cut their escapade short by giving him up to Whispers.
After the first couple of times, coming to Berlin felt like he was leaving a part of his soul behind. It wasn’t Kala’s feelings overflowing through their bond either, it was something else entirely, something he tried to hide from everyone else in his brain including himself. If he didn’t acknowledge it, no one else would.
Wolfgang should’ve known better by now.
“You know, I’m pretty sure, Kala knows by now.” Lito’s voice was slightly distorted by the steam in the shower. He sat on the edge of the tub, casually sipping from his fizzy drink.
“Isn’t it past midnight in LA?” Wolfgang reached for the shampoo —rose oil and peach, Kala’s— and lathered his hair. It was getting too long for his liking; he’d need to buy a hair clipper soon.
“Late night reshoots.” Wolfgang got a brief glimpse of Lito’s surroundings: cameras, microphones, and people’s voices mixing as they rose around him. In the background, the roar of the sea, almost as loud as Wolfgang’s own thoughts.
He focused back in his shower, the warm water working the knots in his back, in his chest. He wished there was an additional pair of hands pressing down his skin, grounding him. Before the thought was fully formed, Wolfgang felt a strong set of hands on his shoulders.
“You know, sometimes all you gotta do is ask,” Lito’s breath in the back of his neck shouldn’t be unexpected, but he still started when Lito moved his hands to massage his shoulders. He let himself enjoy it for a moment before speaking.
“Don’t you have a boyfriend waiting at home?”
“And a girlfriend. So?”
That took him by surprise, he thought Lito was gay gay, definitely not attracted to women. It wasn’t a lie though, there was no point when Wolfgang had a direct line to his brain anyway. “Dani’s a girlfriend now?”
“She’s family.” Lito’s hands worked the muscles in his back in circles, his touch soft but firm. It was nice, but Wolfgang would’ve preferred to have someone else at his back. “Girlfriend is easier to explain.”
“How do you explain to them you’re in the shower with another man then?”
“Am I?” Wolfgang was pulled to Lito’s surroundings. He felt the sea breeze on his face, the sand between his toes as Lito wiggled his bare feet. A blink later, Wolfgang was back in the shower, turning around to face him.
“You know what I mean.”
Wolfgang took in Lito’s wet clothes, the hair plastered to his forehead. As much as Lito was back in LA and Wolfgang here in Berlin, they knew this was real. As real as it had been when Wolfgang and Kala were four thousand miles apart.
“You talk to them. You sit down and use your words.” Wolfgang had the nagging feeling they were no longer talking about sharing a shower.
“If Kala knew, she would’ve said something.” He reasoned.
“Maybe she just wants you to use your words for once.”
Before Wolfgang could reply, Lito was gone, back in his own world. The shower felt bigger, emptier, and Wolfgang longed for someone to share it with, but nobody came.
THEN
Wolfgang spent the morning —and the afternoon, and then the evening that followed— tangled between the sheets of Kala and Rajan’s hotel room. He was exhausted, but there was something addictive to this thing they shared: room service meals handfed in bed, showers that became foreplay until the water came out tepid and they relocated to the bed again.
And it was not just Kala’s body finally within reach, her lips warm and soft and real in a way it hadn’t been before. It was Rajan’s shy touch becoming firm and frantic, it was his beard against his thighs, his legs wrapped around his waist. It was Kala’s lust spiking when she saw them kiss, it was Kala’s gasps when Rajan fucked her, it was Kala’s orgasms mixed with his own and, by God, he could understand how she believed in religion when his vision blacked out one time too many.
Time stretched when they lounged together in the aftermath, every second spent between their bodies was eternal and, for once, Wolfgang didn’t want a hook-up to end.
It was past midnight and they were lounging again. Someone down the bond was eating chocolate covered strawberries —probably Nomi, it was her honeymoon after all— and he got a craving for sweets. Kala spoke up before the thought fully formed in his head.
“I want something sweet.”
“Yeah, me too,” he agreed.
Rajan made a soft sound and raised his head from the pillow. “Now?”
“Yes, now, Rajan.” When she sat up, her beautiful black hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes drifted between them, as if deciding what happened now. Wolfgang loved her so much, he would’ve done anything for her.
“We could order something,” Rajan suggested, a lazy look in his face. “Maybe a croissant, hm?”
But Wolfgang wanted to stretch their night further, to take and take and take until the fates stopped giving.
“Let’s go out instead.”
NOW
After his shower, Wolfgang left their room as quietly as he could. It was rare to see Rajan and Kala oversleep, so he let them get the rest they needed, especially with Rajan still recovering from Kala’s right hook the night before. He didn’t need to, but he took a blocker to steal a couple of hours alone in his mind.
The Tiergarten was an island in the middle of the city, as soon as one stepped inside; the deep dark green trees partially obscured the sun, the temperature dropped and the sounds of the capital faded to the background, low enough to be almost imperceptible. The park had always been a refuge: from his father, from Steiner, from his own warped thoughts of blood and vengeance.
His mind couldn’t stop playing the moments he’d stole from the fates so far. If there really was a thing such as fate, it had a sick and twisted sense of humor: he met Kala just in time to watch her fall in love with someone else. Wolfgang didn’t expect to get wrapped up in those feelings as well.
How much of what Rajan made him feel was Kala’s own feelings overflowing through their connection? Wolfgang had noticed the way Nomi’s soft happiness was felt by all of them the night of the wedding, the way the eight of them had identical smiles when they looked at Amanita. Wolfgang noticed how Lito’s complicated feelings for Dani unraveled, going from just another person to friend to something else entirely. Wolfgang noticed how Capheus’ unbelieving adoration of Zakia became stronger and he felt it to a certain extent as well.
If he harbored such intense secondhand feelings, what made his fascination with Rajan any different? Couldn’t it be Kala’s alone, strong enough to spill and flood his brain?
But then he thought of the many times he’d caught Rajan looking at him, trying to piece him together, the warm rush of blood he’d feel on his chest when Rajan looked away embarrassed. He thought of his content smile when looking at Kala and Wolfgang lounging in the couch. He thought of the soft stubble under his hands, of a soft smile under his mouth when their lips crashed after one too many drinks.
The fuzzy feelings in his stomach made Wolfgang sick.
With a sigh, he patted his pockets for his lighter and the pack of cigarettes he’d been carrying without smoking for over a week. The longer he stood overlooking the pond, the more his heart ached inside his chest. He missed them terribly already. How was he supposed to turn away from the only people who made him feel safe? The only people who made him feel at home?
The cigarette burned to the filter in between his fingers, bringing Wolfgang back to the park. He was alone in his head for the first time since the blockers wore off at the exchange in Paris, yet there was no comfort to be found in the silence. The only comfort he wanted was between Kala and Rajan’s arms.
One cigarette turned into three turned into five and half of the morning passed without Wolfgang hearing anything but the footsteps of other passersby, never too close to bother him. Once upon a time, the solitude would’ve been peaceful, now it made the hair in the back of his arms stand up.
Wolfgang made a turn and heard steps getting louder from behind. There was no reason to believe someone was after him, however being abducted in one’s own apartment would give anyone a healthy dose of paranoia. He had no desire to wake up inside a coffin again.
He tensed for a fight, regretting the blockers for a brief second: it would’ve been nice to have an extra set of eyes on the guy. Sliding his hand to the waistband of his jeans, he pulled his gun out, turning and aiming in a smooth movement.
“Whoa!”
“Rajan?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Wolfgang glanced both ways before putting the gun back in the waistband of his jeans. Despite knowing there was no danger around him, his heart didn’t calm down.
“Looking for you, what else?”
Warmth stirred in his belly, pleased that someone would worry about him enough to look for him. Wolfgang frowned, pushing those feelings down. “It’s not safe out here.”
“Is that why you wouldn’t answer your phone?”
“I just wanted some time alone.”
“Kala’s worried about you. I was worried about you.”
Not for the first time, Wolfgang was glad Rajan couldn’t see inside his mind. It would be embarrassing to be read so clearly, when his heart pounded faster inside his ribcage, begging for Rajan to mean it.
“What’s going on? Why did you leave?”
Explaining himself was pointless, so he steered the topic to something he could handle: deflecting.
“I think it would be better if you and Kala went back to Mumbai. You’ll be safe as long as people don’t know who you are, if people can’t use you to get to me.”
“Kala’s not safe in Mumbai either. There are people after me, after my family—”
“Rajan, listen to me. I don’t know how much Kala’s told you about me, about my past, but when people come after me, it never stays small. My own cousin shot my best friend because he had a grudge against me. When Lila went behind my back, Fuch sent multiple assassins after me. Someone kidnapped me a couple of weeks ago and buried me alive—"
“You were what?” Rajan’s brows furrowed in concern. “When did this happen? Is that the situation in Berlin you wouldn’t talk about?”
“You didn’t know?” Wolfgang looked away from Rajan, searching their surroundings in case anything was amiss, covering up the emotions that welled up inside him hearing Rajan’s concern.
“I’m starting to think you two haven’t been honest with me lately.”
“It’s not- We’re not hiding anything.”
“You need to tell me about what we’re facing, otherwise I can’t help.”
Wolfgang didn’t want him to help, he didn’t need him to. He was used to fighting his battles by himself and this was not the exception. With a sigh, he resumed his walk not bothering to check if Rajan was following. He was.
“Wolfgang—”
“I don’t need you to do anything. I’ve got this under control.”
“Do you? Because it seems things are catching up with you.”
If there really was a thing such as fate, it loved heartbreak. There were people trying to kill him and Wolfgang didn’t care about himself; all he cared about were these two getting caught in the crossfire that was his life. If keeping them safe meant breaking his own heart, there really was no choice.
Rajan’s soft voice came in a hushed whisper that hung in the space between them for longer than it should have. “I’m worried about you.”
“There’s no need to be.”
“I worry anyway.”
He thought back to the first real conversation he had with Rajan. It wasn’t much of a conversation, but Wolfgang wasn’t known for being a talkative person.
Most men wouldn’t have done what you did for me.
I did what I could.
Back then, he looked at Rajan and saw how Kala could fall in love with him. Now that he thought about it, that first sign of kindness was probably his own undoing. Wolfgang looked at Rajan and saw a man who would do anything for the people he loved, something that reminded him of Kala as well and it stirred something in his chest. Wolfgang looked at Rajan kissing Kala and instead of the jealousy he expected, he felt joy: raw, unfiltered, all-consuming joy. In that moment, he knew he would’ve done anything for them.
For them.
Understanding this —whatever this was— might’ve been building for longer than he thought, Wolfgang was hit with the realization that there was no going back for him
“We haven’t really talked about this.” Rajan gestured between them, looking as confused as Wolfgang felt.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Wolfgang turned and walked the other way, ignoring Rajan’s pleading face as he followed him. “We fucked. We had a good time. Maybe it’s time we all go back to normal.”
Truth be told, he didn’t want to go back to normal. His normal was fucking around with whoever was at the right place at the right time; his normal was fighting for his life with no one by his side but Felix; his normal was a beer he drank by himself thinking of someone miles away. And before them —all of Them— what was there in Wolfgang’s life? A cracked safe and meetings to move valuables out of the country, a one-night stand whose name he couldn’t remember the minute they were gone, a string of nights alone staring at the ceiling feeling unworthy of anyone.
“God, Wolfgang, you’re a force of nature,” Rajan’s exasperated tone made Wolfgang furious. He had no reason to fight this. “Can we just talk for a second?”
Wolfgang stopped in his tracks and let Rajan come closer. His face looked soft in the midmorning light of the park, the hints of a bruise spreading around his cheekbone, all the way down to the line of his jaw. Kala wouldn’t have been teaching him to fight if it weren’t because of him.
Everything I touch withers and dies. I’m not worth it.
“I don’t know what this is,” Rajan said, gesturing between them as if to make clear what’s the odd thing out, as if Wolfgang wasn’t painfully aware, “but I know this: what you and Kala have is not going away. I want Kala to be happy more than I care about myself being happy. If we’re not going to talk about us, please, for Kala’s sake, stay.”
Rajan’s earnest expression was too much for Wolfgang to bear, so he looked down at his boots, at the pavement, at the shadow of the branches on the sidewalk.
If we’re not going to talk about us.
Since when was there an us to talk about?
Rajan’s phone rang, startling both of them.
“Kala?” Rajan nodded. “Tell her we’re picking up breakfast on the way back.”
Wolfgang actively reprimanded his heart for beating faster at Rajan’s hopeful smile.
“You could’ve told me yourself if you hadn’t shut me out.” Kala said standing in front of him with her arms crossed. He didn’t notice the blocker wearing off but now he could feel the hurt and concern rolling off of her in waves.
“I’m sorry.” Rajan winced next to him, listening to Kala over the phone. “Rajan didn’t know. Don’t be mad at him.”
Kala shook her head, her voice reverberated fondly from Rajan’s phone as she told both of them “just come back. Bring me something sweet.”
Rajan hung up and looked at Wolfgang with his beautiful big brown eyes. Wolfgang was so fucked.
“Come on. Kala wants something sweet.”
“Chocolate croissant?” Wolfgang looked at Rajan’s open, honest face and his mind flashed back to a couple months ago, to a sunny day in Paris with a never-ending morning, to shared showers that dissolved into foreplay, to bottles of champagne as the night fell, to a midnight walk around the 11th arrondissement until they found an open bakery. Wolfgang looked at Rajan and saw the same night flash in his eyes.
Something sparked inside him, spreading from his chest until every nerve ending in his body was tingling. The air thickened around them and the seconds stretched between them as they did in Paris. Wolfgang didn’t need a psychic connection to know Rajan felt it too.
About us.
Maybe there was an us to talk about.