Page 76 of Play Room Actor

“Just trust me.”

“Trust? This isn’t really making it easy for me. I thought I could trust you, but …”

“You can. I didn’t do anything.”

“Except forget that I slept in your bed.”

It was impossible to hide my disappointment, and Kilian could see right through me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I screwed up. But believe me, I really am sorry. Please. What can I do?”

Before I could be drawn back in by his presence and charm, I shook my head and walked away. I felt unsettled and baffled. He’d just shown me a side of himself that left me puzzled. While it seemed like everyone at the theater was overlooking his erratic behavior, I started questioning why I should too. Clearly, he didn’t think it was necessary to explain himself to me, which showed just how little trust he had in me.

How could I have been so stupid?

22

–––––

Kilian

On Thursday, my conversation with Dominic kept replaying in my mind—and only because he hadn’t given me a chance to properly explain myself to him.

It wasn’t easy, especially since I’d been so restless on Sunday morning after putting him to bed that I just jumped on my motorcycle and took off. If the police had pulled me over, I’d have lost my license for the third time. But I couldn’t help myself.

I didn’t want to wake Dominic. As drunk as he’d been, I couldn’t do that to him. I wanted him to sleep off his hangover in peace, without worrying about me.

While my closest colleagues were aware of my condition and accepted my occasional absences as part of my work arrangement, I still hadn’t come clean to the one person who, in the past few days, had occupied every fiber of my being and stolen his way into my heart.

In the past, I’d always been upfront about it. From the day I got my diagnosis, I knew I had to give people in my life a choice—whether they wanted to deal with me or not. I usually brought this up during our second or third meeting.

At work, it was different, but by now I’d proven that a structured daily routine gave me stability and helped me manage my phases better.

When I hit a low, like the one I experienced last week, the best way for me to handle it was to sleep it off. That way, I wouldn’t get any stupid ideas or annoy the people around me. Not everyone knew how to deal with it, and I didn’t expect them to.

It was sweet that Dominic had stayed with me—and somehow comforting. Especially because he hadn’t bombarded me with questions he already deserved answers to.

Maybe I couldn’t tell him the truth because I had the feeling he was also hiding something from me—something important he didn’t want me to know.

Nico probably knew.

And his therapist, of course.

And that andrologist too.

Urgh!

Sliding into a high on Saturday hadn’t helped matters either. I was still coming down from it and was looking forward to going to bed early tonight.

But I knew I owed Dominic an explanation. I had to catch him later and invite him out for a beer because it was long overdue for me to calmly explain everything to him.

Just thinking about it helped me refocus on my work.

While the actors rehearsed their scenes on stage, Theo was speaking to a journalist. They sat five rows behind me, discussing the new Hamlet. I tried to concentrate on my work and not get too distracted, but I couldn’t help eavesdrop with one ear.

The journalist wasn’t a stranger to me. Every few months, he would show up here and write an article that attracted new audiences. In that sense, he was a journalist who actually knew his craft. Still, I’d been avoiding him ever since he once cornered me and blatantly hit on me.

He wasn’t my type.