José knew when Brock was sad. José knew when Brock was lonely. José knew when Brock missed him. Those were the only times he called. He'd call, they'd hook up, they'd hang out and then Brock would be gone as quick as he came.
Brock knew when José was feeling too hopeful. He knew when José was falling too deep again. He knew when he needed to back off for a little bit.
José could say that he was fine with being friends with benefits until he was blue in the face, but his actions, his actions said otherwise. His face said he was fine, but his eyes warmed when Brock held him. His skin flushed when Brock kissed him. His body screamed when Brock was gone.
Brock knew it was only a matter of time before José backed out. José knew it too.
It was a Thursday in the middle of the summer. DXP had just ended. After spending two weeks with Brock, José just couldn't take it anymore.
José looked into Brock's expectant grey-blue eyes They both knew what was happening.
"This has to stop." José whispered.
"I know." Brock said back.
Neither made a move to leave.
"I can't keep letting you in like this. It hurts every time."
"That's not my intentions."
"I know."
It was a somber conversation.
José grabbed his bag, kissed Brock's cheek, and walked towards the door.
"I'm sorry." José whispered, not looking back.
"Me too."
That's the last time they talked. Well, that's the last time they talked in private. They spoke at shows, and in the comments of posts online.
But now, here they were, three weeks later. Brock got ready to go out with Steve. These were the nights Brock would call José. The nights where Brock would drink tequila. Tequila did things to Brock. Tequila reminded him of the memories. Tequila made him gentle. Tequila made him romantic. Tequila made Brock soft. Tequila made him the boyfriend that José deserved.
José deserves better. Brock thought to himself, taking the first shot. I'm not going to call him.
Brock danced like nobody was watching, even though he knew that people were. He was graceful, elegant. He was warm. He needed another shot.
He doesn't want to hear form me. Brock thought, downing the second shot, and then the third for good measure. I'm not going to call him.
Brock walked outside; Steve close behind. The cool air was a refreshing trade from the damp air of the club. Brock was floating. He had missed this. He had missed the carefree atmosphere that came with Steve's companionship.
Brock lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wall of the club. He inhaled deeply, feeling the instant nicotine rush. Steve stood next to him, leaning his head on Brock's shoulder.
"I've missed you buddy." Brock said. Steve smiled fondly.
"Brock, it's only been a week since we saw each other last."
"I know that." Brook took another drag of the cigarette. "I really need to stop smoking these things."
"You probably should."
Brooke took yet another drag. Guess he wasn't going to try to quit tonight.
He needs another shot.
