"Brendon?"
"Brendon."
"Bren!"
I finally hear him, the room slipping back into focus. His strong hand on my back, guiding me. The bed. Take me to the bed. Our sanctuary. Make this better. Tell me I'm crazy to think we're over.
Cautious steps forward. I will my legs to work properly. Eyes closed, I let him lead me. Lead me. To the couch? Why are we going to the couch? The bed, Ryan!
He sits down, pulling me with him. Defeated, I allow him.
The silence is palpable. I pin my forefinger and thumb between my eyes, pressing hard. I need to catch my breath. I open my eyes slowly, letting my lap come into view.
He sighs, "What's going on?"
I look at the tops of my legs like it's the most interesting thing I've ever seen. Bite my bottom lip and finally, raise my eyes to look at him.
"Admit it."
His eyes leave mine and he stares at his feet like they have all the answers.
My voice breaks, "Ryan?"
His feet move in small circles, his shoulders ridged. "It was one time."
I wait for him to continue. I'm almost happy that it's not all in my head. Not happy. Justified.
He won't look at me. Maybe he can't look at me.
"I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear. It's just- we were laughing and I was having such a good time and..."
I hold my breath.
His hands are shaking as he lights his cigarette, inhaling deeply. "He kissed me."
I feel strangely relieved. I didn't make all of this up. I'm not insane.
I take the cigarette from his hand, pulling in my own deep drag. "Continue" as I pass it back to him.
His eyes finally meet mine, "It just, happened. I didn't- I stopped it. It was just the one time. HE kissed ME, I didn't- I wouldn't. I told you I wouldn't. I would never. You know, I wouldn't. Right? You KNOW."
I shake my head, "I don't know what I know anymore." I close my eyes and press my hand into my forehead, "Do you have feelings for him?". I want to take it back as soon as the words leave my mouth. If I have learned anything in this life, it's 'don't ask questions you don't want answers to'.
His voice is small, "I don't know."
I watch as he lights another cigarette, staring at the flame as it burns the end. It mimics the tiny flame I feel deep down inside. The bit of fire in my soul that has kept me alive when the cards were stacked against me. The sparks that fueled me when I was 15 making it through this world completely alone. I let the blaze take me over, comforted by it's familiarity. Everything soft in me behind lock and key, leaving only what protects me. Bitterness. Distrust. Venom.
"You don't KNOW?" I scream at him. "Jesus, Ryan, aren't you a little old to be playing by tour rules? Are you going to fuck him too? Who else, Ryan? How many have there been? HOW MANY?!" my volume increasing.
He looks at the cigarette burning between his fingers, "Only Josh", he replies, so quietly that I strain to hear him.
"You want to be with him now? Throw away all the years we spent together for a piece of ass? Fine. Do what you want. I'm flying home tomorrow. I'll pack your shit and you can pick it up when you manage to take Josh's cock out of your mouth. I'm done. WE are done. He can have you".
I get up from the couch. I am invincible. If this is what he wants, who he wants, then I'm not going to stop him. I don't need anyone. I've never needed anyone. I'm so much better on my own.
I'm not staying in this room. I'll call a cab, sit in the airport until my flight. Anywhere is better than here. I pick up my bag and start for the door, "Have a good life, Ryan". I'm so done. Fuck him. FUCK HIM.
I hear him behind me, scrambling off the couch to follow me.
"NO! God, no. Baby, please! Not this. I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry! Don't go. Please!" Ryan begs in desperation. "Please don't leave. I can't lose you. I'm sorry!" His hand grabs mine, pulling me away from the door, turning me to face him.
I can feel the features hardening on my face as my eyes narrow. "Let. Go. Of. Me."
He drops my hand. He looks broken. I'm glad. He said he might fuck this up someday and now he has. He should be so pleased. He's a god damned psychic. He should buy a lottery ticket.
"Bren." he's pleading. "Don't go. We can talk about this." He walks closer to me, each step tentative, until he is in my space. "Please, Baby." He doesn't bother to try to hide the tears sliding down his cheeks.
His hand reaches for my face hesitantly, sliding his fingers along my jaw. His eyes searching mine. He appears hypnotized, "You are so beautiful." He gulps and I watch his adam's apple move on his throat. "Stay. Please. I can explain. I can." he says barely above a whisper, "I love you, don't go." He tips my chin up slightly to make me meet his gaze, moving painfully slow towards me. I feel his lips gently touch my own, then pressing ever so delicately. He's asking and I relent, allowing him to pull me close to him. His arm snakes around my waist, his shaking hand moving to the back of my head. I feel his tongue brush against my bottom lip, tracing, asking, and I respond. I cling to him like he is the last life raft in the middle of the blackest ocean. I don't want to need him but he is inside me, has always been at my core. I can't deny it, even now.
He deepens the kiss, desperate for connection, his tongue tenderly massaging mine, and I feel it in every part of me. Electricity, the way only he can make me feel. Only him. I kiss him harder, putting everything into it, let my teeth bite his bottom lip before sucking it into my mouth. Falling harder back into him, letting his lips consume me. I need this. I need him.
I CAN'T need him. Pain flashes in the center of my chest. I break the kiss and step back, gasping for air. I attempt to relight my internal fire that he has smothered. I am miserably unsuccessful.
Carefully, I say to him, "We can talk but I'm not making any promises."
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, "Okay. I can live with that. I can live with anything as long as you don't leave."
Standing two feet apart, neither of us moving, the awkwardness fills all the space around us. Time seems to slow down making the moment worse. Someone has to do something, this is torture.
After what feels like an eternity, he motions toward the bed, and raises an eyebrow at me in question.
I nod. Maybe Josh was never in his bed. Maybe he was. I don't even care anymore. I'm exhausted and I just want to lie down.
We walk towards the bed, each taking off our clothes as we walk, not noticing the other. I slide between the sheets on the left, him on the right. There is hesitation in every movement.
I turn to face him and let my lips touch his. I watch his eyes close as he pulls air into his lungs.
My turn this time. I wait for him to look into my eyes and bring in my own deep breath letting him back in.
With only love and kindness in my heart, "Talk to me".
