Chapter Text
I hate him. I’m supposed to hate him, at least. Everything he does should send a jolt of anger through me. Or maybe his doings shouldn’t affect me in any way anymore.
It’s been a year. A full year. Last time we met it was at a Halloween party and he was with her, Sarah. They looked stunning, like a dream couple. I tried to avoid him but of course our paths met and halfway through the night we found ourselves undressing in a closet. Our hot breaths got mixed as we panted against each other’s mouths, his face paint got smudged and we were being so obvious, but it didn’t matter.
I needed him so badly. He needed me too, otherwise he wouldn’t have ditched his wife and gone off with me. Somehow I was still the second choice, like always. I don’t know what I expected, not a fairy tale end for sure because we’re not like that. Still, him pushing me away hurt. Like it does every time.
So it’s been a full year and here I am; clutching a bottle of whiskey in my hand as I make my way to the front door, waiting for a taxi to pick me up and take me to a party someone is throwing. Knowing he isn’t going to be there this time makes my chest ache. I’m not sure if I’m more relieved or disappointed. I’m planning to drink so much I won’t remember a thing and have a good time, have a really fucking good time because damn right I can do that without him. Even though I know everywhere I go I’ll be looking for him, even when I know he won’t be there.
I take a sip of the golden liquid and pretend that I’m just some guy from Vegas who moved to LA to have a good time. That I’m just a nobody who never was in a band, who doesn’t know what it feels like to stand in the spotlight next to the most beautiful person in the world, watching him sing your lyrics. Who doesn’t know what heartbreak feels like.
*
Around five am I wake up and come back to my senses. I’m laying on my front yard with an empty bottle in my hand. It’s not my bottle, but someone else’s and I wonder if I still have my wallet and keys with me or if I lost them at some point. I also wonder if the taxi guy who gave me a ride back home saw me falling down. Maybe he did and thought I’d be better off chocking on my own vomit as he drove off.
I sit up and my vision blurs for a moment. I hear Dottie barking inside, she must’ve woken me up. I try to get on my feet, but keep stumbling and falling back on my ass. I give up. Fuck, I give up on everything.
I lie back down and spot a few stars on the early morning sky. I know it’s corny, but I hope he’s looking up to the sky right now too. I hope he remembers last Halloween as well as I do. I hope he misses me. I sure as hell miss him. I always do. Every fucking morning I wake up and I hope he’s next to me. I open my eyes and instead of seeing his relaxed face, slightly parted, plump lips and messy hair, I’m alone. And the worst part is that I can’t shake this off. This is not a long, disturbingly well detailed nightmare, but my life. My life that feels utterly meaningless when he’s not close to me.
*
The morning light shines in through the window. I forgot to close the curtains and when I try to roll out of my bed I end up falling on the living room floor. Fuck. I forgot I passed out on the couch.
Dottie is happy that I’m awake; she might just be the only one thinking so. She waves her tail and follows me with her puppy eyes. I stumble to the kitchen, drink water, go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I try to put together the bits and pieces I remember of last night, not that it really matters since nothing important happened, I’m just trying to keep myself entertained. I try not to focus on my reflection in the mirror. I look like a mess.
I think I sucked some guy off. I remember his moans and a red curtain that we were hiding behind. I remember people, so many of them saying hi to me and I said hi back and we chatted for a minute until the next ones came around. I was fucked out of my mind by one am.
I shower for almost an hour. Letting the warm water run over me, washing away all the sweat and the smell of cigarettes and alcohol and perfume. I feel disgusting, but it might just be because of the hangover. I’m not sure if I had a good time last night. Time keeps passing by and I just stand in place, confused, looking around for something to hold onto. And just like that I have missed my chance.
After showering I put on a pair of boxers and a simple white t-shirt. I smoke outside as Dottie runs around the yard. I feel empty.
“Dot!” I yell when she goes too far away. “C’mere,” I say and she waves her tail and follows me back inside. My house is quiet. Like it’s waiting for something, but I don’t know what. I break the spell as I start moving around in the kitchen, deciding to make something to eat. Dottie sits on the carpet in the middle of the room, keeping her eyes on me like I might disappear to another party again if she doesn’t guard me.
*
It’s late in the evening when a sharp noise disturbs my sleep. Dottie starts barking and this time I make sure I won’t fall off the couch to the floor. The knocking on the door comes again and I sigh. Who the fuck dares to disturb my evening nap?
“I’m coming, calm down!” I yell when the impatient knocking gets louder. My brain is still in a half-asleep state so opening the lock takes longer than usually. When I finally push the door open, ready to send whoever is behind it away, I come to a stop.
Him. I blink. He’s standing in front of me.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “I need a place to stay.” He’s wearing a grey hoodie, his hair is pushed back and it looks slightly dirty. He hasn’t slept, that’s obvious. He has short stubble on his chin and the corners of his eyes are slightly reddened.
“Brendon. What are you doing here?” I ask, sounding shocked, because that’s what I am.
“So much for manners,” he sighs, shifting his weight from one leg to another. His comment lacks the bite and I’m too shocked to get offended. “I need a place to stay,” he repeats more firmly this time. He has a back bag on his shoulders and I’m torn between kissing him and punching him.
I do neither; instead I step aside and motion him to come in. I have so many questions, but I hold it all in as I watch him step inside, take off his shoes and then give me a weak smile. He looks tired, he has bags under his brown eyes. He looks gorgeous anyway.
“I, um, I can make you a bed on the sofa?” I suggest and he nods. He doesn’t know where the living room is so he follows me to my bedroom, sits on my bed as I go through the closets to find him a pillow and a blanket. Is this really happening?
Dottie jumps on the bed next to him and I hear him quietly blabbering to her, calling her cute. I find what I’m looking for and lead him to the living room. Everything feels surreal, but I’m going to let him sleep before asking him questions. He gets pissed off easily when he’s tired and he looks so damn vulnerable, showing outside my door like an abandoned puppy, looking for a place to stay. My heart aches and I feel like I might die right here in the middle of my own damn living room.
“Thanks, Ry,” he mumbles as he sits down, taking the blanket and pillow from me.
“No problem,” I say. “The bathroom’s at the end of the hallway,” I inform and with that I leave him be. Dottie looks slightly confused, but quickly falls asleep on my bed. I can’t sleep. He’s in my house, after a year of nothing. He’s here and he smiled at me and I have no idea what all of this means.
*
After a few hours of restless sleep I decide to go check if last night was only a dream. It wasn’t. I find him sleeping on the couch, breathing evenly. I feel his spirit haunting every corner of my house.
“Christ...” I sigh, trying to understand how this all is supposed to make sense. What did he tell Sarah? What did he tell his friends? Why didn’t he go to someone else’s place if he needed a couch to crash on? Why did he come here?
I’m about to go outside for a smoke, but spot Dottie trying to jump on the sofa.
“No! Dottie!” I hiss, but she doesn’t stop. She jumps on the sofa and licks Brendon’s cheek. He stirs in his sleep and lets out a soft noise. I swallow loudly. “Dottie, get off of him!” I say, but she just ducks her head at me.
“Were you watching me sleep?” Brendon asks with a husky voice. I love how he sounds in the morning.
“No,” I say.
“Your dog is very touchy,” he tries to laugh when Dottie keeps licking his face, but I’m not amused.
“What are you doing here?“ I blurt out, crossing my arms over my chest. He sits up, pushing Dottie away. She settles at the end of the sofa, looking at me and Brendon questioningly. “You can’t just fucking show up behind my door after not saying a word to me in a year!” I bark when he stays quiet.
“Things aren’t going so well at home and I needed a pla-”
“Why didn’t you go to your friend’s house then, huh?” I ask. It’s not like I want him to go, it’s just that I know this won’t end up well.
“Do you want me to leave or...?” He snaps and I roll my eyes, annoyed.
“No! I mean yes. I don’t know. What are you here for? And don’t say it’s because you have problems with your angelic wife because I know that’s not why you’re here!”
“Why do you push me away?” He asks and gets up too, probably trying to make himself seem taller. “Last time you were basically throwing yourself at me!”
“Oh! So you’re here for a quick fuck, then? For old time’s sake? We should make this a tradition, don’t you think?”
“No! That’s not what I said-”
“Last time we saw was on Halloween! Brendon, that was a year ago!” I stare him down, but I know I sound more desperate than angry now. “You made it clear that that was the last time, because your life is so fucking perfect with her now,” I snarl. “Yet here you are.”
He steps towards me and for a second I’m sure he’s going to punch me. He doesn’t. He kisses me. And I kiss back, of course I do.
“I hate you so fucking-” he starts, but I kiss him again and pull him closer.
We’ve never really been the ones to take things slow, talk it through, be graceful. I pull his boxers down, rip his shirt off. He does the same to me and we let our hands explore each other’s bodies. I push him down on the sofa, movements full of longing.
We’re the ones staying together just to fall apart again.
His skin is smooth, his lips are full and perfect and we keep sharing desperate kisses. He doesn’t have to say it, I know he’s missed me. I can feel it in the way he digs his fingernails in my back and I’m not even inside of him yet. I grind down on him and he arches his back, pushing his hips up to meet mine. He’s beautiful.
I kiss his mouth that hangs open, lick his lower lip, the roof of his mouth. He moans quietly. My heart is racing wildly. More, more, more. I need more of him. I kiss my way down his body, bite the soft spot next to his hipbone. He shudders out a breath and grips my hair, letting his legs fall open.
“Ryan, fuck,” he moans when run my tongue along the downside of his hardening cock, from the tip to the base, down to his entrance. He lets out the most unholy noises when I lick him there, push my tongue in him and get him wet with my saliva.
My own cock aches and I reach down to slowly stroke myself. I’m quickly running out of patience so I lick my forefinger and rub it against his hole, causing him to jerk.
“Oh god, fuck...” he pants. I look up, his eyes are screwed shut and he’s biting his lower lip. I don’t want him to contain his moans, I want him to scream and cry out my name.
I push my finger in him and he tenses. No one’s fucked him in a year, I presume, but he gets used to one finger quickly. My saliva isn’t probably enough lubricate, but it’ll have to do. Besides, I know he loves it like this.
I feel the resistance of his muscles when I try to push in a second finger. He moans, begs and offers himself for me. I mumble sweet nonsense against his inner thigh and try to control myself. It’s hard to do that when I’ve missed him so much and it all starts to pout out, making my heart race and my head buzz. I pull my fingers out of him and move up to kiss him. God, I’ve missed him so much.
“I need you, Ryan, please. Fuck,” he mumbles, pecking my lips between words.
“I know,” I breathe and finally. Finally. I line myself up, my cock as slick as it gets from the mix of saliva and pre-come and I push the tip of my cock against his hole. We breathe together -I swear I’m not losing my mind just yet- our hearts beat in the same rhythm.
He feels hot and tight around me and I pant against his skin. His fingernails dig into my back and he pulls me down for messy kisses. This is how I want every morning to start.
I begin to thrust in and out of him, slowly at first, trying to saviour every second of it. But he’s a needy little thing and he keeps pleading for more, faster and harder, and I lose myself into him. Fuck, he always manages to tear me apart.
Somehow we keep ending up together, even though most of the time we just fall apart.
The pale morning light helps me see every detail on his skin. I touch his face, his cheeks, his full lips, short brown hair, the locks feel like silk when I run my fingers through them. He does the same to me, memorises my body the best he can. Fuck. Why does it always feel like it might be the last time when we’re together? The thought scares me and I press my forehead against his.
“Brendon,” I say, too far gone to really say anything else but his name. His hum of agreement turns to a moan when I hit the spot inside of him that makes his body tense, his back arch and his hips jerk up.
“Ryan, please. Don’t stop,” he moans, out of breath. He has sweat rolling down his neck and I give in the urge to bite him there. I reach down to touch his cock, stroking in times with my thrusts. He’s a panting mess and I want to remember this moment forever. I want to remember that I had him for a moment.
He comes suddenly, hips bucking up, mouth dropping open and the most beautiful, erotic sound escaping his shiny lips. I fuck him through it, feeling spurts of his come rolling over my knuckles. When he comes down, he eases the death grip he had on the blanket covering the couch. He brings his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks. He nibbles my jaw and looks into my eyes when body tenses and I come inside of him.
I hear his soft voice mumbling something to me and I kiss him as I try to come down. Keep kissing him like it’s the only thing that matters.
*
His skin looks golden in the light of the setting sun. I listen to him breathe evenly, draw meaningless patterns on his back and smirk to myself. We spent the entire day fucking, laying in each other’s arms, fucking some more. Could we live like this? I wonder how long it’ll take before reality sets back in.
Not long, as it turns out.
“Everything’s a mess right now,” he says with a weak laugh, breaking the precious silence floating around us. I gently squeeze him in my arms, but he pulls away and sits up. “God...” he breathes, burying his face in his hands.
“You weren’t lying about having problems at home with Sarah, were you?”
“No,” he says.
“What does that mean for us?” I ask, maybe a little too hopefully.
“Us,” he repeats and my heart skips a beat. “Nothing, I suppose.”
I snort and he turns to glare at me. “We just fucked for hours. We slept together, we held each other. Does that mean nothing to you?” He doesn’t reply which is enough of an answer. I get up and angrily pull on some clothes. “So you think you can come here and fuck me whenever you feel like it? Am I some fucked up version of a rebound after you’ve had a fight with your wife?!” I ask. I’m so sick of fighting. I’m so sick of things being so hard with him.
“Forget about her!” He says defensively. “She has nothing to do with us.”
“Of course she has,” I say as I sit down on the armchair. I feel defeated. “You always choose her. She has everything to do with us.”
“There is no choosing,” he tries to point out, but I beg to differ.
“I was right. You did come here for a quick fuck, didn’t you?”
“Do you call an entire day quick?” He asks playfully, but I’m not in the mood. Not anymore. Why do I let him do this to me? He sighs. “Just think about us, Ryan. We have never worked before, you and me. How could we now?”
Somehow he manages to break my heart in one sentence. I lift my legs on the chair and wrap my arms around myself, keeping my eyes on the floor to avoid his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I say anyway.
“It never works for us and it never will, Ryan. We’re better off this way.”
“This way?” I ask with an empty laugh. “What does that mean? We fuck once every year? Or we fuck when you feel like it and then spend the rest of the time apologising.”
He doesn’t say anything and I get up, walking to the backdoor. It’s warm outside, the sun is setting and the city is full of happy people. I try to remember that there’s more than this, but I feel so heavy. I want him, but I’m tired of the pain that comes with having him. I watch the sunset and try to forget how much I miss him even though he’s right inside, so close yet it always feels like we’re millions of miles apart.
I hear his footsteps getting closer, but I don’t turn. He touches my hip, I don’t move. I feel his breath against the back of my neck. He wraps his arms around me from behind.
“I have to go. Sort things out,” he sighs heavily. “For what it’s worth, I really do miss you. I always do,” he says quietly.
“Then stay,” I plead.
“You know I can’t.”
I briefly glance at him when he pulls away from me, the warmth of his body disappearing. Our eyes meet and I’m scared this’ll be the last time. And just like that, he’s gone again.