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Travis felt the gaze of a hundred movie stars on him as he tried to calm his nerves. Every bare spot on the walls of Rupert’s room was covered in the faces of his idols, mostly Jerry Langford, and it seemed to him that each one was staring straight into his soul. Trying to avoid them was impossible; they were relentless in their pursuit.
“That’s why I think it’s his best episode. But of course, April fifth nineteen-eighty is a close second, if not debatably as good. Masha was trying to convince me the other day and even though she’s usually wrong about these sorts of things, I think with a little more convincing she might be able to sway my opinion.”
Rupert is lying next to him, stretched out on his side with one hand under his cheek on the pillow, the other wildly gesturing as he talks, embellishing his stories with erratic detail. Travis has barely been able to pay attention to what Rupert is saying, he chooses to blame it on the terrible faces bearing down on him. It has nothing to do with the fact they’re reclining on Rupert’s bed together.
“I don’t like Masha.” Travis’ voice is low, afraid to be heard. Even now, Rupert’s basement bedroom door remains open, a requirement his mother demands whenever he has Travis over. He’d have Rupert over to his place someday when he feels less ashamed of how he lives.
“You’ve never even met her.” Rupert smiles when he talks, the corners of his eyes creasing, his teeth peeking out from under his curled lip. It’s cute, Travis thinks, feeling his face warm. Embarrassment makes him sit up further against the headboard, more upright than Rupert.
“Well, the way you talk about her.” Travis shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know, I just don’t think I’d like her.” Across the room, Jerry Langford’s life size black and white face mocks him. Stupid jealous screwhead he says through his printed teeth. Travis looks at the ceiling instead.
“To be fair I don’t think she’d like you either. You know the other day when you took me out for coffee, she told me after that whatever girl I was seeing was distracting me from Jerry.” He laughs and Travis’ lips move upwards into a tight-lipped smile before he can stop them. “I thought that was pretty funny.”
A vision flashes across Travis’ mind, clear and bright. He is standing in the crowd outside the Jerry Langford Show with his shaved head and sunglasses. He is reaching into his coat, pulling something out. It’s his .44 Magnum. He’s raising it towards Jerry’s head, the crowd parting at the sight of it. He’s squeezing the trigger.
“Yeah. It’s pretty funny.” Travis tries to picture what Rupert would be like without Jerry still around, but his mind conjures only the vague shape of the two of them, in bed, alone in a big empty space. He knows it’s a stupid thought; if Travis had shot Langford back then he’d have been locked far away from Rupert. Besides, so much of Rupert was Jerry he wondered if that vague half-formed image would even be the same person.
“How was your shift by the way? I forgot to ask.” There is some guilt there, but not enough to ensure Rupert won’t forget again. It’s fine; Travis is okay with being second fiddle. He finds something pleasant in letting Rupert go on and on about his interests and himself. It’s like he glows in the spotlight of Travis’ open ears.
“Fine.” He watches the other man twirl little patterns into the loose sheet. He builds up tiny ridges, then flattens them again with lazy indifference. “This lady recognized me uptown and gave me a ten-dollar tip.”
“Do you like getting recognized?” Rupert asks the question with such banality that Travis is forced to assume he is innocent to its severity. He tilts his head back, allows his focus to drift away into the sea of half-formed patterns on Rupert’s ceiling. Travis picks out the muggy form of a scorpion in a peeling water stain.
“I don’t know how to feel about it.” Travis’ voice is flat, more so than usual. Rupert must pick up on it because he presses no further.
“Well ten dollars is ten dollars. Imagine all the takeout you can get with that.” He’s teasing him. Travis taps his foot against the mattress.
“We could go out tomorrow morning. Or whenever you’re free again.”
“I’d like that very much.” Rupert reaches out, fingers coming to rest on top of Travis’ own hand where it is firmly planted in the crook of his elbow.
“Could see a movie. Get breakfast.” He is suddenly unbothered by the faces on the wall, choosing to scrutinize them before letting Rupert see his.
“You know I think my mom left for church by now.” Travis swallows. Rupert’s fingers are free of callouses, smooth like a woman’s where they squeeze at his hand. “We don’t have to be so careful.”
Rupert props himself up on his elbow, scooting closer to Travis so that his body is pressed lightly against his. He rests his head on the crook of Travis’ arm. Hesitantly, Travis uncrosses his arms, wrapping one lightly around Rupert’s shoulder.
Travis knows he shouldn’t be so hesitant. He knew what Rupert was implying on the phone hours earlier when he had called him up saying his mom was about to be out for the afternoon. The words unspoken had been heavy on his mind when he drove to Rupert’s place. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what he signed up for.
Jerry laughed at him, mocking him with his smug smile like a hyena. He circled the bed from all vantage points, watching Travis, waiting for him to slip up. Even within Rupert’s own mind, he wasn’t sure how much was dedicated to Jerry Langford and how much he had been allotted. Travis imagines a dusty little chair labeled “boyfriend” in the corner of a vast palace; it was almost funny.
“Relax, Travis.” Rupert runs his hand up from Travis’ abdomen to his chest, resting it there. He must feel the heavy beating just below the skin. If he does, he ignores it. “You know, I was thinking about you at work yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah?” Travis cringes at the sound of his own voice.
“Mhm.” Rupert breathes in deep, like he’s taking in the smell of Travis’ jacket. He himself smells like cheap cologne and polyester. The more time they spend together, the more Travis finds comfort in it. It scares him, how easily he has slipped into enjoying Rupert’s company.
“I was so bored; no one was calling all morning. So, I started imagining you in your cute red jacket coming to my cubicle with flowers and chocolate like it was Valentine’s Day or something and everyone was so jealous when you gave them to me.”
Rupert shifts closer to Travis, leaning close to whisper in his ear. He can feel the hairs of his mustache moving as he speaks.
“I thought about fucking you right there over my desk.” Rupert whispers the words in his usual chipper tone, like he’s explaining the origin of one of his autographs to Travis and not that. Travis swallows.
Rupert’s lips part again, but this time he gently bites at Travis’ ear. His mouth is wet, hotter than the burning heat spreading across Travis’ face. He is shameless, shoving his tongue into the curve of Travis’ ear without hesitation. It’s like something out of a movie; a scene from one of his pornos. Travis suddenly considers that Rupert could have been at one of those theaters. His head spins.
Rupert moves down to Travis’ jaw, sucking at the slightly stubble ridden skin. He brings his hand up to the other man’s shoulder, digging into the fabric of Travis’ jacket. Rupert pulls away, planting a series of quick kisses along Travis’ jaw until he makes it to his mouth.
They kiss sloppily, their noses bumping together, their foreheads touching. Travis recalls the first time they had done this: a chaste moment in the front seat of his taxi a month ago. Then another time, in the back of a scummy theater under the cover of darkness. That time was much like this: amateurish, desperate, and horny.
Travis feels his inhibition slipping away as Rupert messily shoves his tongue into his mouth. His head is suddenly flooded with a haze that masks his usually constant internal monologue. He can’t focus on anything, but the way Rupert is sucking at his bottom lip until he feels needle pricks in the swollen flesh.
Travis grabs Rupert by the waist, pulling him on top so that he’s straddling him. Rupert makes a little sound into his mouth, surprised but satisfied. He pulls back, a trail of thin saliva following, connecting them momentarily. It glistens in the dim light.
Rupert sits back onto Travis’ thighs so that their crotches are touching. Travis glances down, noticing the heat between their erections, palpable even through the layers of fabric. Rupert runs his hands up Travis’ chest, stopping to fiddle with the buttons of his plaid shirt.
“I know I said I wanted to fuck you, but…” Rupert trails off, eyes downcast. He undoes one of Travis’ buttons, then another. Travis swallows, his whole body burning like a furnace. He needs to get out of his jacket, his jeans. Needs to feel Rupert’s skin against his, the sweat slick between them.
“I want to.” Travis is surprised to hear the words, like someone else had said them. There is a desperation in his own voice that makes him feel sick. The moment is brief; it dissolves into the blooming thought of his cheek being forced into the mattress, of Rupert pressed close over him. Inside him.
“Are you sure? I’ve never really done this before.” Rupert looks over at his open door, as if he’s afraid someone is watching them. His voice is low, his words an intimate confession. “I’ve seen it plenty of times though. Imagined it too.”
Travis wants to ask, “who did you imagine?” but he can’t do it, instead choosing to untuck Rupert’s dress shirt from his stupid pale blue slacks. He slips his fingers under the fabric, touching the soft skin there, pressing against the gentle give of his stomach. It reminds him of a woman he dated once, a long time ago. She let him reach under her shirt once, to touch her breast, but that was all they ever did. Travis wondered if she ever thought of him.
“I’ve never done it either. There’s a first time for everything, right?” Rupert nods, then nods again, glancing at his side table. It was his turn to look embarrassed, his cheeks flushed like his walls, dark and red. Travis thought it was like looking in a beautiful mirror.
“Right. Um…” Rupert fumbles at Travis’ shirt, fingers brushing against the exposed skin. “Should probably take this all off.” Travis nods and they begin the awkward task of trying to remove each other’s clothing at the same time.
Rupert’s shirt is easier to remove. Travis sits up more as he unbuttons it, allowing Rupert better access to his own shirt. He feels his army jacket get pushed aside, but he’s too distracted to really care, his eyes glued to the newly revealed pale flesh of Rupert’s chest and shoulders. Travis pushes his dress shirt off, watching it pool around his hands, exposing the other man’s body.
In public, they had been asked more than once if they were brothers. At first Travis was disgusted, shocked. The thought never crossed his mind that he and Rupert looked alike until then. Once the seed was planted, however, it grew each time they saw each other. Travis had noticed the similarities with a fearful curiosity. Yet now, looking at Rupert half-naked for the first time, he seems completely different, alien to his own reflection.
Travis has been skinny for as long as he can recall. He remembers getting picked on as a child because of it. It was the origin of his violent streak, if he had to pretend it wasn’t part of his very being from the start. Even now, after spending hours working to tone his muscles, he still felt lean. He survived off burgers, candy, and booze, yet he gained little, if any weight. It was frustrating.
Rupert by comparison was softer, more average in composition. He had the physique of a thirty-one-year-old communications worker: not chubby per se, but the slightest beginnings of a plush stomach. There was little definition to him, his entire look profoundly nonthreatening. Heat pulsated up the length of Travis’ body at the thought of his cock pressed between Rupert’s belly and his own abs. Involuntarily, he rolled his hips up, making their erections glance against each other.
“You look nice.” It’s the best Travis can manage given the circumstances. Rupert smiles, his eyes hidden beneath dark lashes. Travis relents to Rupert’s hands tugging away his own jacket and shirt. He lets himself lie back on the bed, exposed.
Rupert opens his mouth like he’s going to say something but stops midway, shutting it as he takes in the sight of Travis’ bare upper body. He fiddles with his hands, running them over each other suddenly hesitant. Travis bites the inside of his lip.
“You can touch me. If that’s what you’re worried about.” Rupert’s eyes widen, his expression like a boy caught with his fist in the cookie jar. He reaches down, running his hands across the tight stretch of Travis’ chest. Down his fingers go, over the hollow expanse of his abdomen to the hem of his jeans.
“You’re very handsome.” He says it like it’s a fact, like everyone who passes Travis on the street thinks the same thing. Travis can’t stand to look at him, feels unworthy of it. “You have such a perfect body, like a movie star. You would do so well on television, Travis.”
Travis wants to say something nice back, but he can’t find the words. His mind is racing, bouncing back and forth between the pleasantry of Rupert’s comments, the burning arousal seeping up from his groin, and the underlying sense that he didn’t deserve any of this. He instead wraps his hands around Rupert’s waist, squeezing gently while running his thumb back and forth.
“You look so nice.” It doesn’t occur to him that he’s repeating himself, he just mumbles the words out while Rupert undoes the button on his jeans, pulling his fly down, exposing the swell of Travis’ erection.
Suddenly, Rupert is shifting off him, standing beside the bed. He begins to rummage through his nightstand, retrieving a bottle of cheap hand lotion. Without Rupert on top of him, Travis is forced to look at the cardboard cutout of Jerry Langford, frozen forever mid-laugh. He wishes Rupert would have turned it around.
“Sorry, let me get some stuff ready. I thought it would be easier to get our pants off this way.” It’s matter of fact, decidedly non-sexy. Travis wonders if sex is always this clunky. It never was in the films he was always going to. He watches as Rupert undoes his slacks, tugging them down to the floor, leaving him in his underwear.
Rupert glances at him first, hesitating, before stripping completely. His cock sticks out in front of him, glistening in the yellow light of his bedroom. Travis eyes it with a mixture of fear and curiosity. Nervousness bubbles in his chest as his own hands begin to tug his pants and underwear down, letting his own cock free. Rupert’s eyes go wide when he sees it sticking out from the mass of wild dark hair surrounding it and Travis’ inner thighs.
Rupert leans close, eyes training on the tip. Travis watches curiously as the other man tentatively presses his lips to it, parting them slightly to brush his tongue against his slit, licking away the precum. Travis shudders, rolling his hips up. Rupert flinches away, but is back just as quickly, brushing his cheek up Travis’ length like a smug cat.
“You know I could suck you off right now and be satisfied, I’m sure of it.” Rupert’s eyes lock onto Travis’, black staring into black. “You have a very nice penis, Travis.”
Travis blinks at him. No one has ever said anything like that to him before. This is unventured territory. He doesn’t know whether to feel flattered or embarrassed.
“Um, thanks.” Gingerly, he pats the top of Rupert’s head, instantly feeling him push back into the touch, smiling. His cock twitches against his cheek.
“Everything about you is so great. It’s hard not to just stay here touching you forever.” Travis watches him closely, tracking Rupert’s hands as he starts squirting lotion into them. “You’re too good for me, Travis. I don’t know how a shmuck like me landed someone like you.”
Travis laces his fingers in Rupert’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He watches as Rupert tentatively pours lotion onto his fingers, much more than he needs for his hands alone.
“I’m gonna’ have to, uh, stick these inside of you.” Rupert waves two fingers in the air, sending drops of lotion onto Travis’ skin. “If you still want to do that. Don’t worry though, I know what I’m doing; I saw this in the movies once.”
“What movie?” Travis’ voice croaks out, his mind preoccupied by the thought of Rupert shoving his slick fingers inside of him.
“Huh?” Rupert’s eyes meet his, confused. He’s no longer cheek-to-cock, instead more bent over Travis’ lower body as he prepares.
“You, um, said you saw this in a movie once.” Travis scratches at the bedspread, feels the rough mattress beneath it. “I was asking what movie.”
Rupert blinks at him then smiles wide, teeth flashing in the dark. He looks just like the Jerry cutout peaking over his shoulder.
“Oh, that was a joke!”
Before Travis can respond Rupert’s spreading his legs apart with his arms, pushing his knees open so that nothing is hidden from view. Blood rushes to Travis’ head; he feels like he just might die. Rupert doesn’t notice or maybe doesn’t quite understand the reason for Travis’ flushed face. He’s all grin as he gives Travis’ cock a quick stroke.
“Okay, um.” Rupert shifts back, awkwardly positioning himself over Travis, holding himself up by the hand not covered in lotion. He furrows his brows, glancing from Travis’ ass to his face. It’s almost cute, Travis thinks. “I’m just gonna’ stick these in there. Are you ready?”
Travis could stop right now if he wanted to. He could shake his head no and Rupert would listen to him like an obedient sheepdog, sit back on his haunches, and ask if he’d prefer a blowjob instead. Picturing it now, Travis felt temptation creeping over him like a spider.
Yet there was a desire stronger still to go through with this; to feel Rupert inside of him. Imagining it made Travis dizzy. He had never in all his life done anything like that before. Picturing the imagined pleasure, the pressure, the pain, made Travis’ cock jolt, precum leaking down its tip.
“Ready.”
Travis opts to look away because Rupert isn’t looking at him. His focus is elsewhere, so Travis thinks it’s only best to work his way back through the ceiling patterns. There is the scorpion, peeling and moist. Beside it a face in profile and the cold, cold presence of lotion on his skin. Further down he sees a new shape, something like a revolver or maybe a giraffe when—
“How is it? Too much? Too little? I can stop if you want me to, you know it’s not too late to do something else. In fact, I’ve got some great VHS tapes we could watch instead if you know, you’ve changed your mind.” Rupert is looking at him again. Travis can’t help finding his concern endearing, even through the sudden new sensation distracting him.
There is a strange pressure from where Rupert has apparently stuck a finger in his ass. Travis doesn’t quite know how to feel about it; it’s simply there, filling a space he had previously been entirely unaware of. He shifts up on his elbows, looking down only to find his view obscured by his erection.
“Is that one or two fingers?” Travis furrows his brows, watching Rupert’s pretty face as he speaks.
“One. Is that too much? How does it feel?”
“Fine, I guess. Kind of weird.”
“Yeah, normally I do two, but I thought one would be a good start. You don’t want to do anything too crazy. Don’t want to do too much all at once!” Rupert runs his free hand up the length of Travis’ side, ignoring the puzzled look on the other man’s face.
“You do this to yourself?” Travis’ voice is small, suddenly shy. Rupert shamelessly nods at him, hand still obscured between Travis’ thighs.
“Yeah, almost every time I touch myself. I thought everyone did.”
The thought of Rupert lying back in bed, jerking off while fingering himself flashes across Travis’ mind uninvited and vivid. It makes him jerk his hips up, which in turn changes the feeling of pressure inside him, shifts it into something new. He gasps, slight. Travis hopes Rupert didn’t hear it.
“I—” Travis starts then stops. He steadies his voice. “I don’t really touch myself.”
Rupert looks at him like he just grew another head.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You’re not messing with me? Now, now Travis I have you in a very compromising position, so I’d think twice before lying to me.” His tone is teasing, playful, but it makes Travis feel more vulnerable than he already is.
“No, I’m not messing with you, now will you go ahead and get on with this.” Rupert laughs, patting the side of Travis’ thigh gingerly with his free hand.
“You’re very funny Travis, you know that?” Rupert looks him dead in the eye as he shoves another finger in him. This time it’s tighter and Travis can feel both digits more clearly. There is a pain to it, despite Rupert’s efforts with the lotion, that undercuts the satisfaction of full pressure. It makes Travis’ stomach do flips to imagine what will come next.
Travis closes his eyes, his head lying back on the pillows. His breath hitches when Rupert adds another finger, this time causing a twinge of pain that makes Travis arch his back up away from the bed. He inhales sharply, cracking his eyes open to stare at the other man.
“I think I should be good to stick it in now.” Rupert’s voice is quieter, shy. Travis watches through thick lashes as Rupert takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few quick strokes before lining it up. Nervousness blooms like a rose in his belly, thorny, making his fingers tingle with pinpricks. Travis swallows. Rupert leans over him, innocently blushing like he was asking to kiss his cheek. “Ready?”
Travis nods. Rupert slowly presses into him.
Instantly, Travis is overcome by a pressure far greater than that of Rupert’s fingers, followed by a stinging pain that makes tears well in the corners of his eyes. It’s been ages since he last cried; in fact, Travis can’t recall a moment since Vietnam where he was able to. Now, they well up beneath his eyelid, wet and salty, threatening to spill out. He sucks a breath in through his nose, hands reaching out to grasp at Rupert, finding his sides and gripping tight.
Rupert rolls his hips into Travis, pushing deeper inside him. Travis can’t imagine he can get any deeper, already it feels like he’s being jabbed in his stomach, like if he looked down, he’d see a lump there. The thought makes his head spin, makes him dizzy as Rupert rolls deeper into him.
“H-how is it?” Rupert’s eyes are all innocent, big and dark. Sometimes Travis forgets they’re the same age. He’s almost childish, always lost in his daydreaming and fantasy. Travis isn’t much better himself on that front. Maybe that’s why they get along so well.
“Yeah. It’s good.”
“Excellent. Very good.” He mumbles something else, something Travis can’t make out. It’s getting hard to focus when he feels like he’s being split in two. Rupert rolls his hips back, relieving the pressure slightly before thrusting back into him.
The sound that escapes Travis is both involuntary and gut wrenchingly genuine. Somewhere inside of him Rupert has managed to hit just the right spot. He can hardly comprehend it, overwhelmed wholly by the warmth overtaking him. Travis squeezes his fingers into Rupert’s sides, the flesh turning pink around the pressure.
Rupert does it again, this time his soft stomach brushing against the tip of Travis’ cock. Wildly he lifts into the touch, desperately rolling his hips at him, sending waves of pressure throughout his body. The touch is enough to get him moaning again, making Rupert smile. His arms are planted on either side of him so that he’s looming over Travis.
Again, Rupert starts thrusting into Travis at a slow but steady pace. It’s reliable, sending pulses of mixed pain and pleasure with each rolling motion of Rupert’s hips. Travis doubts he’ll last much longer. Already, he feels tension building with each bit of brief friction. Whenever Rupert manages to hit that spot, he nearly cums then and there. Under it all was the ever-present stinging pain, a factor that Travis was loathe to admit he found himself enjoying.
“I was serious about, about what I said about you being like a movie star earlier.” Rupert’s voice is shaky, breathy with effort. He speeds up slightly, one hand coming to rest on Travis’ side, fingers running over the thinly covered muscle there. “You really are special Travis. I mean it. Y-you have something I don’t think most people have.”
Their eyes meet. Travis runs his hands up Rupert’s sides. They are at once a near perfect mirror image of each other, joined together, blurring into one person, if only briefly. Travis feels as if in that moment he can see into Rupert’s very soul. There it is, flickering and bright, like a candle flame in a dark alcove. He doesn’t need to ask if Rupert can see the same; he knows instinctually that he is just as transparent to him in this moment.
Travis doesn’t know which one of them is the funhouse reflection of the other, but he would like to believe Rupert was the original. He deserves it more than himself. Rupert could tell you who he was if you asked; Travis didn’t trust himself to even give his own name.
Rupert blinks down at him. There is sweat on his brow. He rolls into Travis again, hitting just right, and Travis feels the dams in his eyes finally overflow. The first tear in a decade rolls slowly down his face and into his hair. Rupert’s movements grow more desperate, erratic.
“I love you, Travis. I really do. I love you more than anyone else alive.”
Rupert barely rushes the words out before shuddering, tensing over Travis as he cums. The feeling is immediate, a rush of hot fullness that seems to expand throughout his entire abdomen. Travis clenches and follows Rupert’s lead, climaxing with a pathetic choking cry. Cum splatters Rupert’s belly and falls onto his own.
Rupert collapses onto him, lying so that their bodies are parallel, flush to one another. Travis feels Rupert slide out of him as he does so, leaving him painfully empty. Already a throbbing dull pain begins to resonate from between his legs. He tentatively wraps his arms around Rupert’s back.
They lay there for some time, quiet. On top of him, Rupert is a comforting weight, one that resonates with warmth in the cooling air of the basement. The faces on the walls are forgotten; the only thing Travis cares about is taking in the glow of real human contact. Rupert is the first to talk, his face buried in Travis’ neck, ruffled hair brushing his chin.
“What were those two little marks on your thigh? I thought you were only shot up here.” Rupert brushes a finger over the graze scar on Travis’ neck sending a shiver down the length of his body. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
Embarrassment bubbles up over the afterglow. Travis twists the sheets between two fingers, thinking. Regret is alien to him; typically, he moves forward from his actions without much thought to their later implications. Now, they come back to haunt him.
“They’re cigarette burns.”
“Oh. Who did that to you?” Rupert’s voice is concerned, shocked but tender like he knows the topic is a sensitive one. Travis bites the inside of his lip.
“Me. A few years back. Before the uh, incident.” He squirms underneath Rupert, suddenly too hot. The other man doesn’t budge, instead pressing closer to him.
“Did it make you feel better?”
Travis doesn’t know if he’s referring to the burns or the things he did to save Iris. He doesn’t know if it really matters; the answer is the same either way. He runs his hand through Rupert’s hair.
“For a little bit, yeah. Then it got bad again.” He imagines putting a cigarette out on his chest; it’s been ages since he did it last. Only once had he done it since the first time on his thighs. It had been after Iris, after he and Betsy had gone out again. They got dinner at some nice restaurant; she had been the one to arrange it. The more they talked, the more Travis realized the spell had broken. She was just another woman like the rest of the people around him: unknowable, unrelatable, and impossible to love.
He burnt himself again after that in a place Rupert wouldn’t be able to find.
“Is it still bad? I mean, all the time, or…” He trails off. Travis shakes his head.
“No, not much anymore.”
With Rupert flat on top of him, Travis can see the entirety of his bedroom. He glances over the faces, no longer harsh, but now somewhat sympathetic. They looked down on him with a knowing pity, as if they could read his internal motivations like an open book. There was something comforting about it.
Jerry Langford’s cardboard visage remained fixed in time, his white smile frozen forever, less mocking than it had been before. To Travis, it was as if he was congratulating him, proud even. He closed his eyes, picturing himself once again outside the building where they filmed his show, only this time Rupert is with him. They’re waiting together, trying to get an autograph, desperately pushing forward into the crowd. Rupert is looking over his shoulder at Travis and smiling. He’s pulling him forward by the hand.
Travis holds Rupert closer and smiles.