Anything Goes

Life Advice

“Please sit down. I want to talk to you.” Spike said, pushing his glasses up his nose. I blinked. Ok, not exactly what I pictured him saying as soon as I walked in the door, but ok. I walked into the kitchen. He was making dinner. Whatever it was, it smelled really good.

I dropped my jacket on a chair and made to kiss him on the cheek, but he stopped me. I stared. Ok…? I sat in the chair. He sat down opposite me. He looked like he was waiting for the results of an important test.

“Axl...I wish I knew how to say this properly, but you and I--what we've done---it can't continue. It had to end.” Spike said heavily. I stared.

“...wait, what? What do you mean?” I asked. I don't get it. What brought this on?

“Well, being in a relationship. The things we've done, intimacy, that sort of thing.” Spike said, resting his chin on the tips of fingers. He still.looked nervous. And then it hit me.

“...oh…” I felt my face flush. Well this is awkward. And yet...why did I feel--relieved? “Spike, listen--"

“I cherished our time together. I want you to know that. I hope you're not too upset--” Spike said anxiously, probably fearing that I was.

“Oh, I...I did too. But listen, I really want to--” I began nervously.

“And you can still stay here--"

“Spike, I love someone else!” I blurted out. And the whole house got very quiet. Even Bowie was silent. Spike blinked, surprised.

“Er...yes, I figured as much. I'm not really...well, one for commitment anyway.” He blushed, fluffing the back of his hair. Wait, huh?

“How did you know?!” I asked, feeling my face getting really hot. I was probably redder than a radish with a bad sunburn. And now it was Spike’s turn to blush.

“Well, I saw you crying over that picture of you and Izzy the other day. You left it on the floor, so I went and looked at it. It's a wonderful picture of the two of you, really.” Spike said, still looking like he was embarrassed. Oh shit!

“You...You saw that?” I said. Now I wanted to crawl under the damn table.

“Yes, I did...I didn't want to lead you on knowing you were in love with someone else. It isn't fair to you. Or me, for that matter.” said Spike. There was silence for a moment. “Actually, I feel relieved that I was honest with you. I was worried you would take it really hard.”

I sat up straighter in my chair. Spike took a tray of meatballs out of the oven and turned the stove off. He spooned spaghetti onto two plates and handed me one. I mumbled my thanks.

“Spike...I'm in love with Izzy.” I said in between mouthfuls.

“So we've addressed.” Spike said cordially. I sighed, stabbing a meatball. I looked him in the eyes again.

“I've never been in love before. I've never even been on a date. Please, Spike--Andy--tell me what I need to do…” I all but plead. Spike finished what was in his mouth before answering.

“Well, I can't tell you precisely what you need to do. I can give you advice, but the rest is up to you.” He said. I nodded. “Have you actually spoken to Izzy since that night you fired your guitarist?” I flushed again.

“You heard that?”

“It was hard not to.” said Spike, twirling spaghetti. I felt like I was naked, but more embarrassed. “So, did you and Izzy talk?”

“We--we did, but we fought. And I haven't spoken to him since. I think that was a week ago.” I said, swallowing. It hurt quite a bit.

“I see. Well, obviously the first thing you need to do is actually talk to him. Without arguing. And that goes for him too. Izzy can be a hothead too. Both of you need to sit down and talk about how you feel. Good God, I sound like a therapist. Wrong medical specialty.” Spike mused, pouring some juice and offering me a glass. “Because otherwise you're never going to get anywhere.” I nodded.

“But I don't think Izzy feels the same way about me…” I mumbled to my plate. Spike frowned.

“What makes you say that?”

“Just do.” I said. Especially after Izzy and I fought, why the hell would he want to talk to me, let alone...fuck, I couldn't even say it…

“Well, I don't think Izzy's the type of person to hold a grudge if that's what you're saying.” Spike said, getting up and serving both of us more spaghetti. “I think, most of all, you need to sit down and talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”

“And what if he doesn't like me like that?” I asked quickly, putting my fork down. Swallowing was painful. Spike sat down again.

“Well, then you'll know and you won't torture yourself wondering ‘what if’. It will hurt if that's the case and you'll cry a little, but life will go on again. Speaking from experience and a little professional insight, broken hearts don't hurt forever.” He smiled. I blinked tears out of my eyes. “Besides, you two really do belong together. You're both just too thick-headed to see it.”

“We are not!” I said indignantly.

“But you'll never know how he feels about you if you don't ask. That's my piece of worldly advice to you, Will.” I perked up at the use of my birth name. “Now, how was your job interview?”

“Well, he hired me. Third shift. Guess one if the managers is supposed to start training me next week.” I said. Spike raised his glass with a smile.

“Mazel Tov.” He said warmly, drinking. I picked up my juice. It was ice-cold, but it hit my throat like fire. Ouch. It must have showed in my face, because Spike looked concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. My throat is still sore.” I said, rubbing it.

“Still? It's been a few days...” Spike asked. He put his plate in the sink and sat in the empty chair next to me. “Do you have a fever?” Before I could answer, he felt my forehead and cheeks. “You feel warm, Axl…” I flushed.

“I’m fine. It's no big deal.” I said hastily. “I'll just take some Tylenol, it'll go away in a few days.” Spike didn't look convinced, but he handed me Tylenol anyway. But one question stuck in my mind. “Hey, Spike?” He turned around from the sink, where he was doing the dishes.

“Yes?”

“What was Izzy like...you know...in bed?” I half blurted out. Spike blinked, like I'd smacked his nose.

“Well...he's very passionate. He enjoys closeness...intimate. He doesn't just fuck or have sex...he's more of a “making love" type. Hair petting, kissing, holding--among other things--he's very touchy-feely. I'd say he was good at what he did.” Spike said thoughtfully. “Did I answer your question?”

Part of me wished I hadn't asked.