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It’s Saturday night and Dennis is on the couch, the beer in his hand disgustingly warm as he takes another swig; not watching anything but the clock. Its been hours, he thinks lividly, and Mac still isn’t home.
Mac is at some event at The Rainbow, with his new friends. With fat lesbian Becky and beefcake Rex, who always seem to be smiling at Mac, and making Mac smile all crinkly-eyed in return. It’s fucking bullshit. Soon Mac’s gonna find out his shiny new friends don’t even like him; who other than Dennis could look past all of Mac’s flaws? Could love him so wholly and completely? Ronald McDonald, Ronnie the Rat, the crusty kid who got the good fucking luck to have a best friend like Dennis. The privilege to bask in the light of The Golden God! And he was ignoring that privilege to get grinded up on by old, sweaty beefcakes? The ungrateful motherfucker! Mac didn’t deserve to be happy, not when Dennis was so empty. They were intertwined, locked together in a free fall. Mac shouldn’t be allowed to let go.
Dennis lifts his beer to his lips, downs it completely. All he tastes is bitterness.
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It’s Sunday morning and Mac still isn’t home. It’s been 14 hours; Dennis knows this because he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t eat until Mac came home and he’s venomously satisfied in his growing hollowness. Mac will feel soooo sorry when he gets back for making Dennis starve like this. For leaving him at home, alone and lonely. He’ll probably peel an apple and sit next to Dennis and feed him the slices by hand like the god he is, (Mac’s good for that, always looking for someone to worship) and Dennis might catch the brush of Mac’s fingers against his mouth. He sighs at the thought and looks at the clock for the millionth time. Tries not to picture Mac shooting his crinkly eyed smile at someone else.
When it reaches 2pm and Mac still isn’t home, Dennis gives up the act of artfully arranging himself on the couch, letting the light catch his ribs, looking as weak and malnourished as possible. He’s sick and tired of waiting, and he’s suddenly furious. He grabs Mac’s favourite mug and throws it to the floor, it shatters magnificently, shards sliding across the laminate. Dennis looks down at the scattered bits of porcelain and feels immediately regretful.
His stomach growls.
He sweeps up the glass.
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It’s early Sunday evening when Mac stumbles in, he looks haggard but pleased; with his hair sticking up in tufts. His eyes had been carefully lined in some sort of glittery black, but one side is smeared in an arc across his cheek. As if he rubbed his eye at some point without thinking.
‘Looks like he had a great night. Without me.’ Dennis thinks ruefully, turning over on couch. Mac’s grin is met with his back.
“Bro, you will not believe the night I had!” Mac says, eyes shining. He’s talking a bit too loud like he does when he’s excited, and Dennis just wants him to shut up. “This drag queen invited us to her afterparty! Premium blow dude, the whole living room looked like a snowstorm, I swear.”
“I’m glad you had fun,” Dennis says, in a tone that says he very much isn’t.
Mac frowns. And Dennis wants to punch him, because Mac’s so infuriatingly stupid with his big baby lips on his big baby face. “C’mon, dude, don’t be like that,” Dennis feels Mac settle himself on the couch, the cushion sagging. “Hey..” Mac says softly, as he brushes his hand across Dennis’s cheek, turning his face over. “Oh, Den.” He sighs, seeing the mascara-tinged tear tracks. He ruffles Dennis’s hair, fingers fluffing flat curls. Presses a wet kiss to his forehead. “I’ll go get you an apple.” Mac says over his shoulder, already halfway to the kitchen.
Dennis glares, “I haven’t eaten in 18 hours you know.” Then laughs, “My stomach was hurting but it’s stopped now. I can control it. I have power over human urges. I control everything.”
Mac rolls his eyes, “Shut up and eat your apple, asshole.” Mac places a plate of perfectly peeled apple slices in front of him. Dennis almost thinks of saying no, just to spite Mac. Dennis could throw the plate against the wall, storm off somewhere, make Mac wait for him for a change, that would show him. But then Mac sits beside him again and settles his bronzed, muscled arm around Dennis’s shoulders, and Dennis is suddenly so pleased he finds he doesn’t need to do any of that at all.
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It’s very early Monday morning when Mac slides into bed next to Dennis and presses a kiss to the side of his mouth.
“You’re too minty.” Dennis groans, burying his face in the pillow. “Did you actually brush your teeth or just drink the damn paste?”
“Missed you, too.” Mac says, wrapping his arms around Dennis’s midsection, nosing at his neck.
Dennis pushes himself further into Mac’s grasp, until there’s no space between them. “You don’t act like it.” He sniffs. “You were gone for 18 hours. I didn’t eat.”
“Dude I asked if you wanted to come.” Mac whines, “You can’t say no and then be mad at me. I wanted you to come.”
“No, you just wanted to see your stupid new friends. Like Rex.”
“Ah.” Mac says, his features relaxing into understanding. “So that’s what this is about. We’re just friends, Den. Rex’s laugh is like, super annoying too.”
“I wanted you to stay, I wanted you to choose me.” Dennis hates that he’s tearing up because Mac will think he’s sad. And he’s not sad, he’s frustrated, he just happens to cry when he’s frustrated. Mac chose his friends over a night alone with Dennis. Mac is always making plans, and laughing and smiling with his new gay friends. Ever since he came out, Mac is drifting away from the gang, and therefore, drifting away from Dennis. Dennis knows it because he tested the theory when he refused Mac’s invitation. “You went without me.” Dennis says sullenly.
Mac let’s out an exasperated groan, “You said you didn’t wanna go! What the actual fuck, Den!?”
“Exactly! I didn’t want to GO.” He emphasizes, “Why would I want to go out just to end up sitting alone, watching you ignore me for your new fucking friends!” Dennis spits, “I didn’t say I wanted to be alone. You just didn’t care!”
“I’m allowed to see my friends, Dennis.” Mac’s voice is firm. Sometimes Mac uses that voice to command Dennis in bed, and it makes legs turn to jelly. But right now it makes him feel misunderstood. Of course Mac’s allowed to see his friends! Just Dennis should be the priority, is all.
Dennis huffs, quietly. “You don’t understand.”
They stay still for a moment, still pressed together, then Mac, tense, begins to pull away. Dennis feels a wave of nausea so strong he scrambles to grab at Mac’s retreating form - catching him by the hand. Dennis’s anger is extinguished, replaced by fear so quickly that it’s dizzying. He’s gone too far. He doesn’t want Mac to leave, he just wants Mac to choose him every time. He wants Mac to stay, even when he says go. He wants proof that Mac loves him unconditionally. Loves him even though Dennis has a big hollow pit at his center. Loves him even though that pit will eventually swallow Mac up.
“Don’t - don’t go baby boy! Please? I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!.” Dennis hears his own voice waver, and suddenly feels pathetic, then guilty. Is this manipulation? Is he being manipulative? Sometimes he can’t tell.
Mac stills, sighs, lays back down. Dennis lets out a shaky breath and rests his head on Mac’s chest. Dennis inhales slowly through his nose to a count of 4, holds his breath for 4, exhales through his mouth for 4, waits for 4, and starts all over again. Square Breathing, a technique his therapist taught him. Mindfulness, grounding techniques, DBT worksheets that Mac brings home; carefully photocopied from books at the library. Dennis thinks it’s all bullshit, but Mac likes it when he tries. Gets this almost proud look in his eyes that no one else has ever directed at Dennis before. So he tries. Dennis would never admit it, but he’d probably try anything for Mac, who’s gently rubbing his back as he comes down.
“I just get scared that you’re gonna leave.” Dennis says into the dark.
Mac sighs and cards his fingers through Dennis’ hair, “I might if you keep acting like this.”
“I’m sorry.” Dennis grips Mac’s shoulders tight, digs his fingers in. Feels his firmness, hears his breathing, smells his hair. He bends his neck to press a feathery kiss to Mac’s jaw, tastes him just a little. He’s here. Mac’s here with him, solid and real. They’re still together, holding hands in the free fall. The way it should be.
Later, when Mac’s asleep, his soft snores the only sound in the room, Dennis speaks into the dark.
“I missed you.”