After dashing back to gesture to the group, we escape into the elevator. Zach lets his head fall against the mirror, but his body is angled toward me. He presses level three—the pool and gym level—and tilts his head back, sucking in a deep breath. When he’s done, he lowers his head to look at me, eyes dark, and stretches out a hand to beckon me in. I step between his legs and crash my lips against his roughly. It’s our first moment alone since the concert, and suddenly I realize how desperately I’ve wanted to feel his skin beneath my fingertips, to pull him hard against me and hold him until all the adrenaline and tension seep out of my muscles.
“God, finally.” He breathes between kisses, and I just about lose my mind, cupping the back of his neck and pressing us back together. When the elevator dings, it takes me a full couple seconds to register what it means and reluctantly step back.
We stay a chaste few feet apart from each other as we walk past the mostly empty pool. There’s only a single family using it, and they aren’t paying us any attention, but the habit is ingrained now. It’s not until we sit on a swinging love seat overlooking the pool from a distance that I take his hand in mine.
He looks at it in surprise, then it seems to dawn on him. We aren’t a secret anymore. Holding hands in public isn’t a punishable offense.
Wordlessly, Zach takes out his phone. Apparently he’s as interested in exploring the aforementioned hashtags as I am. I watch over his shoulder, then move to my own phone. What I find is pages and pages of photos of the two of us. One, taken when Zach lifted our linked hands, is particularly popular, and has been shared again and again, on individual posts and on major media outlets. But there are other photos, too. Some of the band posing at awards shows, some of Zach and me smiling at each other at events, and some of us interacting onstage on the American leg of the Months by Years tour.
Before Chorus tore us apart, we used to look at each other a lot, it turns out. In hindsight, I probably should’ve figured out there was maybe something there long before I did.
Of course, it’s not all support. Dotted here and there are cruel words, and threats. Sometimes attached to faceless accounts, sometimes attached to real ones. Seeing those feels a lot like being gut-punched. And even though they’re rarer than the nice ones, they seem louder, somehow.
I try to train my eyes to drift past them as I scroll. As soon as a red-flag keyword pops up, stop reading, move on. Focus on the kindness.
We love you. We won’t let them treat you like this #SaveSaturday
zach and ruben you’re the best people and also jon and angel, the four of you saved my life. now we’re returning the favor #SaveSaturday
Everyone make sure you buy and stream End of Everything. If you can’t afford to buy, stream on repeat （turn the volume down if you need to do other stuff, we just want the hits up）。 YouTube helps too! #SaveSaturday
#SaveSaturday KEEP TWEETING ABOUT OVERDRIVE AND SATURDAY. KEEP IT TRENDING. SHOW CHORUS WE WANT TO SEE THE BOYS AS THEY ARE. SHOW #ZUBEN WE CARE.
“They’re making us trend on purpose,” I murmur out loud as I realize it. It’s not the first time they’ve done something like this. But to have everyone band together for us now, when we’re at our most vulnerable? At the precipice of losing everything? When we’re waiting to see whether our coming-out narrative will be positive or scathing overall?
All this time, I’ve been intimidated by the power this group of wonderful people has. But they were never the ones we had to fear.
Yes, they made us. But that doesn’t mean they’d hurt us. Even if they could.
It’s been so hard for me to believe that being adored doesn’t mean I’m one mistake away from being despised. But between Saturday, and Zach, and our fans, I think I’m starting to view things differently.
They love us. And I love them right back.
But more importantly, I think I trust them.
Zach’s voice is high and funny as he says, “Oh.” I look to find his eyes glassy, and I brush my thumb along his jaw. “I can’t believe they all…” He looks to the sky and sucks in a breath to steady himself. “I wasn’t sure. I wondered if they’d be mad at us for hiding it. Or for doing it in the first place.”
I understand the fear. I think I’m less surprised than Zach is, though. After years and years of wanting this, I’ve had ample time to study how fans react to celebrities coming out. Deep down, I did trust our fans to have our backs, for the most part.
What I wasn’t braced for was the sheer euphoria of seeing myself reflected back at me. Me, not a curated character with my face on it. It’s now hitting me, properly, that I did it. I came out. After all these years of wanting it, it’s happened.