There’s something about Garbles that is just… right. It’s a feeling he can’t quite put into words, that same nameless something that had jolted up Shane’s spine the first time he held a hockey stick. An innate something that is calling to Shane from deep within himself, the same way that birds are drawn to fly south.
Shane studies Garbles’ rounded shoulders, his protective posture and suddenly fits a puzzle piece in his mind.
“This is what you meant… back in Tampa. When you said I didn’t like you. It’s because you thought I wouldn’t like this part of you.”
His boyfriend lowers his gaze to his oversized shoes. When he reaches up and rips off his big red nose, Shane notices that his hands are shaking.
“Put it back!” Shane demands, voice coming out harsh.
Garbles freezes. Slowly, ever so slowly, he puts the nose back on. His face might be covered in white paint but it cannot disguise the longing in his eyes.
The only sound Shane can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat. Shane feels himself cross the room before the thought has fully developed. He seizes Garbles by the novelty polka dot bow tie.
“Can you do something for me?”
They’re so close now Shane can feel Garbles’ breath in hot puffs against his lips.
“Keep the bowtie on during.”
He reaches down, palm skimming the smooth texture of Garbles’ polyester overalls, landing decisively in between his legs. Shane squeezes the bulge he finds there. A bike horn loudly honks.
“Is that a bike horn or are you happy to see me?” Shane asks.
“It’s both,” Garbles rasps, voice hoarse, pupils blown wide. He reaches down and covers Shane’s hand with his own, and lovingly honks the horn a second time. “Shane. It’s not too late. If you don’t want this, you could just tell me. I would understand.”
“Haven’t you realized by now? I’m into Big Tops.”
