When We Were Us

Chapter 8

*~*David's POV*~*

Not your place to out them!

We support you, Jon and David!

Love knows no gender! One love!

I stare at the illuminated screen of my phone, scrolling through the social media feed. Colton had texted me earlier this morning. It simply said, "Fuck the media...we love you, Dad."

He told me about Twitter blowing up with fans, both mine and the Bon Jovi feeds. I've spent the better part of two hours reading the comments and direct messages. They were good and bad, didn't really expect anything less.

Fucking faggots! Which one takes it up the tailpipe XD

Who wears the pants and who wears the panties??

Yeah, I know people are fuckers. Including Jon. Goddamnit, Jon. It's because of him I'm in this fucking situation. Why the hell did I chase after him that night? Could have been an easy fuck and go.

No...no it couldn't. He's a brother to me, my best friend. It could never stop at a fuck and go. It doesn't stop me from being angry with him. All he had to do was say something.

I ship Richie and Jon! David should be with Tico!

Oh, fuck this shit. The fanfiction writers are coming out now. I toss my phone on the bed and bury my face into the pillows. Jon was smart not to follow me. Fuck he pisses me off sometimes.

My stomach growls at the lack of food and a tugging in my groin keeps me from falling back into a dreamless slumber. What if I pack my shit and just go home? Back to my kids...my music...my own fucking bed...

Fuck! Ok ok I'm getting up. I swear if pissing took a year off my life, I would have been dead decades ago. Just can't hold it in at my age. I catch a glimpse of my disheveled blonde curls. Need to color again. The grey is showing too much.

I throw the door open and stop dead. Jon is there on the floor, slouched against the wall for support. I don't bother to wake him. He can fend for himself. The first morning release...ahh ain't a damn feeling better.

Heading for the stairs, I glance over to find Jon's awake and bleary-eyed. I cock an eyebrow and continue downstairs for coffee and maybe even some bacon. Yes, I know. Bad Jew. Spare me.

I watch the coffee pot chug away with my favorite blend. Only bacon is pre-cooked. I shrug and throw it on a plate to microwave.

"D?" Jon said hesitantly, standing in the doorway as though he wasn't sure of his welcome.

I slam the microwave door shut and punch 30 seconds into the display. "What do you want?" I could hear the emptiness and coldness in my own voice.

"Can...can we talk?"

"Now you wanna talk?" I ask, grabbing the bacon plate when the timer beeped. "You sure you don't wanna wait for the video of us fucking backstage to be released?"

"I...I never...I didn't mean for any of that to happen," Jon stuttered.

I take my cup of coffee gingerly, pouring in a generous measure of my favorite creamer and sugar. "Course you didn't, Jon," I reply sarcastically.

"Can I sit down?" Jon asked, his head was bowed and he picked nervously at his fingers, "I want to tell you everything. Then, if you tell me to go, I will."

We stare at each other, blue eyes on blue, both of us shirtless and shivering. I take the plate of bacon and coffee into the lounge, nodding him in as well. "Fine," I grunt and sit on the sofa. "No bullshit though."