Chapter 8

“I mean, like…you’re an actual genius. You’re an amazing writer.” He leaned down, trying to catch Colby’s eye. Colby wasn’t quite looking back. The chest-cavern where Jason’s heart had broken ached even more. He’d done that. “Seriously. I don’t even know what to say. I’m fucking in awe of you. Your words.”

“It’s only tidying up…”

“It’s not. You make scripts work.”

“It’s only—”

“I told you once,” Jason said, extremely gently, venturing onto this brittle ice because he loved Colby and Colby shouldn’t be facing the treacherous path back to solid ground and self-worth alone, “not to insult yourself, didn’t I?”

“But that’s hardly the…” Colby paused. “You think it is. The same.”

“I think you’re brilliant and I think you don’t give yourself enough credit.” He bent, kissed Colby’s shoulder, sketched a heart in lotion in the same spot. The heart came out lopsided. That was fine; it gleamed cheerfully despite that. “You love stories. You know when a story’s good, right?”