GUY is in love with Chris, and he's quite the lucky man, because Chris likes him also! But after they hook up... things don't go so well.
It's a slash fic!
---
“You know I love you so.”
Every night I hear him sing those words to a faceless crowd of fans. Most nights I close my eyes, let my body be absorbed into the music, and imagine he's singing them to me.
Why is it that everyone always falls in love with Chris? Is it because he's a frontman, or is he a frontman because everyone falls in love with him? He does have this sort of quirky charm. He's always cracking jokes backstage. And he's got the most beautiful laugh, accompanied by a gorgeous smile, the kind that could brighten up even the darkest of days. He's always favoring Jonny, though, both on stage and off. Everyone can see that there's something between them. Will and I have had conversations about this. We both came to the conclusion that they must have been a thing at some point, if not only for a short while, because there's so much chemistry between them, and it's so much more than friendship. They're practically soul mates.
That's why I cry myself to sleep at night. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it does make me feel awful. When we're playing a show, Chris will always wander to Jonny's side of the stage. I just try to ignore it and look down at my bass. Sometimes it doesn't always work, though, and I'll see them laughing, Chris obviously flirting with Jonny. Jonny just soaks it up. He loves every minute of it. Why wouldn't he? If I were him, I'd do the same.
I can't be mad at Jonny, anyway, because he's my best friend. He's everyone's best friend. If Chris didn't exist, I think we all might be in love with Jonny instead. He's just always there, and he always listens, not matter what you have to say. He's immensely trustworthy, too. So, I decided to talk to him about my problem.
Five minutes after the end of our concert, when everyone was either showering or leaving, I sat quietly in the dressing room, waiting for Jonny to walk in. I looked over at the racks of clothes that were shoved up against the wall. They put Chris's clothes and mine next to each other. How nice. Jonny's were on the other side of Chris's. How fitting. Since there was nothing else to do but wait, I started to daydream, conjuring up fantasies of Chris and I. They mostly consisted of me telling him how I felt, and him telling me he felt the same, which I desperately wished would happen. While I was trapped in my own imagination, the door opened.
“Guy! Thank God you're here,” Jonny said as he rushed over to my side. “I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, what it is?” He sat down beside me and readjusted his cap.
“It's about Chris.” Of course it was. “And me,” he added. I swallowed.
“OK.”
“You guys think there's something between us?” he asked, his head lowered and his eyes focused on the dark blue carpet.
“Isn't there?”
“Not that I'm aware of.” He looked up at me. “Guy, I know.”
“You know?”
“I know how you feel about Chris.”
“What? How?”
“We're best friends, right? We just know these things.” I sighed. He had a point. I don't think I took very strong measures to hide my feelings, anyway.
“Do you think Chris knows?”
“Right. That's another thing I need to talk to you about.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I, uh... what if I told him?”
“WHAT?!” I shouted, jumping to my feet. Jonny cowered a little in his seat.
“It slipped, OK? It's not like I was a hundred percent sure, anyway. I don't think he really believed me.”
“Oh, God, Jonny! He probably hates me now.”
“Why would you think that? He's Chris, he's not gonna hate you for liking him.”
“Yeah, but...” I sighed again. He had a point. I sat back down, and rubbed a hand across my forehead. “What should I do, then?”
“Talk to him.”
“What do I say?”
“Well... just casually talk to him first. Pretend like nothing's going on. Then, if he brings it up...”
“Panic?” I shrieked.
“I'm sorry, Guy. I can talk to him for you, if you like.”
“You already talked to him, that's what got me in this mess in the first place.”
“Yeah, but since I started it, maybe I can help you out.”
“But I don't want him to know.”
“Why not?”
“What if it doesn't work out? Then I'll be miserable and alone.”
Jonny silently looked around the room. It was almost as if he was checking to make sure no one else was in there. After seeing the coast was clear, he lowered his voice and said, “If I confess something to you, will you forgive me?”
“Maybe.”
“OK. When we were younger, I was sorta in your position.” He anxiously tapped his fingers on his leg. It took me a second to work out what he was trying to say.
“You had a thing for Chris?” It wasn't all too surprising. It was a bit comforting, though, to know that Jonny and I were in the same boat.
“Oh, yeah. And he found out.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Except now he's always teasing me about it. That's what everyone seems to mistake for him flirting with me or something.”
“No one else knows this?”
“No one else but Chris. And no one else but Chris knows about you.”
“Do you think he'll start making fun of me now, too?” I asked. That was all I needed, for the man I was in love with to start mocking me in front of thousands of people. Jonny's answer shocked me, though.
“No,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because... I think he likes you a lot more than he likes me.” He slightly raised his eyebrows and emphasized, “A lot more.”
Every night I hear him sing those words to a faceless crowd of fans. Most nights I close my eyes, let my body be absorbed into the music, and imagine he's singing them to me.
Why is it that everyone always falls in love with Chris? Is it because he's a frontman, or is he a frontman because everyone falls in love with him? He does have this sort of quirky charm. He's always cracking jokes backstage. And he's got the most beautiful laugh, accompanied by a gorgeous smile, the kind that could brighten up even the darkest of days. He's always favoring Jonny, though, both on stage and off. Everyone can see that there's something between them. Will and I have had conversations about this. We both came to the conclusion that they must have been a thing at some point, if not only for a short while, because there's so much chemistry between them, and it's so much more than friendship. They're practically soul mates.
That's why I cry myself to sleep at night. Well, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it does make me feel awful. When we're playing a show, Chris will always wander to Jonny's side of the stage. I just try to ignore it and look down at my bass. Sometimes it doesn't always work, though, and I'll see them laughing, Chris obviously flirting with Jonny. Jonny just soaks it up. He loves every minute of it. Why wouldn't he? If I were him, I'd do the same.
I can't be mad at Jonny, anyway, because he's my best friend. He's everyone's best friend. If Chris didn't exist, I think we all might be in love with Jonny instead. He's just always there, and he always listens, not matter what you have to say. He's immensely trustworthy, too. So, I decided to talk to him about my problem.
Five minutes after the end of our concert, when everyone was either showering or leaving, I sat quietly in the dressing room, waiting for Jonny to walk in. I looked over at the racks of clothes that were shoved up against the wall. They put Chris's clothes and mine next to each other. How nice. Jonny's were on the other side of Chris's. How fitting. Since there was nothing else to do but wait, I started to daydream, conjuring up fantasies of Chris and I. They mostly consisted of me telling him how I felt, and him telling me he felt the same, which I desperately wished would happen. While I was trapped in my own imagination, the door opened.
“Guy! Thank God you're here,” Jonny said as he rushed over to my side. “I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, what it is?” He sat down beside me and readjusted his cap.
“It's about Chris.” Of course it was. “And me,” he added. I swallowed.
“OK.”
“You guys think there's something between us?” he asked, his head lowered and his eyes focused on the dark blue carpet.
“Isn't there?”
“Not that I'm aware of.” He looked up at me. “Guy, I know.”
“You know?”
“I know how you feel about Chris.”
“What? How?”
“We're best friends, right? We just know these things.” I sighed. He had a point. I don't think I took very strong measures to hide my feelings, anyway.
“Do you think Chris knows?”
“Right. That's another thing I need to talk to you about.”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I, uh... what if I told him?”
“WHAT?!” I shouted, jumping to my feet. Jonny cowered a little in his seat.
“It slipped, OK? It's not like I was a hundred percent sure, anyway. I don't think he really believed me.”
“Oh, God, Jonny! He probably hates me now.”
“Why would you think that? He's Chris, he's not gonna hate you for liking him.”
“Yeah, but...” I sighed again. He had a point. I sat back down, and rubbed a hand across my forehead. “What should I do, then?”
“Talk to him.”
“What do I say?”
“Well... just casually talk to him first. Pretend like nothing's going on. Then, if he brings it up...”
“Panic?” I shrieked.
“I'm sorry, Guy. I can talk to him for you, if you like.”
“You already talked to him, that's what got me in this mess in the first place.”
“Yeah, but since I started it, maybe I can help you out.”
“But I don't want him to know.”
“Why not?”
“What if it doesn't work out? Then I'll be miserable and alone.”
Jonny silently looked around the room. It was almost as if he was checking to make sure no one else was in there. After seeing the coast was clear, he lowered his voice and said, “If I confess something to you, will you forgive me?”
“Maybe.”
“OK. When we were younger, I was sorta in your position.” He anxiously tapped his fingers on his leg. It took me a second to work out what he was trying to say.
“You had a thing for Chris?” It wasn't all too surprising. It was a bit comforting, though, to know that Jonny and I were in the same boat.
“Oh, yeah. And he found out.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Except now he's always teasing me about it. That's what everyone seems to mistake for him flirting with me or something.”
“No one else knows this?”
“No one else but Chris. And no one else but Chris knows about you.”
“Do you think he'll start making fun of me now, too?” I asked. That was all I needed, for the man I was in love with to start mocking me in front of thousands of people. Jonny's answer shocked me, though.
“No,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Because... I think he likes you a lot more than he likes me.” He slightly raised his eyebrows and emphasized, “A lot more.”
-
I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped myself in a towel. My curls were already sticking me in the eye. I swiftly brushed them away and made sure the towel was on tight enough. I had stupidly forgotten to bring clean clothes into the shower room, but I figured that by that point the dressing room would be empty. The only problem was getting to the dressing room.
I slowly opened the door of the shower room, peeking my head out to see if there were people around. I didn't see anyone. Tightly holding on to my towel, I made a run for it. It's really not the best idea to run in a towel. Regardless, I made it without any embarrassing mishaps occurring. I pushed the door open and stumbled inside, only to find that someone else was already in there.
“Oh, shit. Sorry!” I apologized as the dark-haired man turned around. He took one look at me and turned back.
“No, it's OK. Do you need to get changed? 'Cause I can leave. I wanted to talk to you, but it can wait,” he rambled.
“You wanted to talk to me?” He nodded, his back still turned. I had a feeling that I knew what he wanted to talk about.
“It can wait if you need to change. I'll just be waiting outside,” he added as he walked towards the door, trying not to look at me.
“Right... give me about five minutes, then?” I said as he opened the door.
“I'll just be waiting out here.”
Over the next five minutes, I tried to dress as slowly as I could. I really didn't want to talk to Guy. It's not that I didn't like him, actually, the problem stemmed from the fact that I did like him. Much more than I'd care to admit. Jonny told me he thought Guy felt the same, but I couldn't be too sure. And knowing Jonny, he'd probably gone and talked to Guy about it, too. I was not prepared to deal with all of this at that moment. But I thought something to myself, as I was putting on my socks, which was will I ever be prepared to deal with all of this? Is there even a way to prepare for it? It's not like I had a choice, anyway.
Once the last article of clothing had been placed on me, there was really no reason left for me to stall. I opened the door, and Guy was sitting right outside, waiting. When he saw me, he stood up.
“So, you wanted to talk?” I asked.
“Yeah,” was all he said. He kept his eyes pointed at the ground, his fingers fumbling with the hem on his shirt.
“Were you planning on actually talking?” He remained silent for a few more moments.
“Jonny told you.” My earlier suspicions that Jonny had talked to Guy appeared to be correct.
“And then he told you?” Guy stopped messing with his shirt, and took a step closer. Then he lifted those gorgeous eyes of his.
“Are you... interested?” There was no point lying to him, as it wouldn't do either of us any good.
“Yes,” I said, moving closer to him. “Very much.” He didn't say anything in return, but he did make a sudden movement towards the door of the dressing room. Before I knew it, we were both back in there, sitting on the large sofa.
“No pressure, right?” Guy said, staring awkwardly at the floor. I just stared at his gorgeous face, quite unsure of what he meant. Of course, I'd stare at that handsome man all day long if I could, with his rugged stubble laying against his upper lip in such a way that made him even more irresistible, if that was even possible. He finally looked up at me, after a few moments of silence, and clarified, “I mean, it's all right if nothing happens between us...”
I wanted to ask him if he was telling me it's all right or asking me, but those dark eyes were more than I could handle. Instead, I just leaned forward, hoping he'd get the hint. He followed my motion, and before long our lips met. It was a quick kiss at first; just testing the waters. His lips felt smooth and he tasted like watermelon, probably because that was the only thing that had been left on the fruit tray after the show. It was nice, though.
I half-expected him to decide that none of this was a good idea, and bolt out of the room as quickly as he could. He didn't, though, which I was extremely grateful for. I was also grateful that we were sitting, as the height difference between us could have been awkward. Speaking of awkward, there we were, still centimeters apart, but not doing anything, not saying anything. But as I looked deeper into his hypnotizing eyes, I realised the silence was not so horrible, and there was a burning question longing to leap from his smooth lips: Should we take this back to my place?
Now, as we were on tour in a foreign country, it was not so much his place as his hotel room, but within ten minutes he led me into the small, dimly lit room. The bed was snug against the corner wall, its neatly-made sheets just begging to be ruffled. It welcomed me with open arms as I sat down and watched Guy walk over to the mini-bar.
“Do you want anything?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of some unidentified liquid.
“What, you need to get drunk to do it with me?” He turned around with an odd expression on his face, both apologetic and horrified. I tried to laugh it off. “I'm good.”
Deciding that the alcohol probably wasn't the best idea (or maybe he never actually planned on drinking anything), he stored the bottle back in its resting place. “I'm sorry, I'm just a bit nervous,” he said. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and flopped down beside me on the bed. “This is... something I've been thinking about for a while, you know, and it's just a little... nerve-wracking to actually be here.”
“I know what you mean,” I said and flashed him a warm smile. “There's no reason to be, though, right? Like you said, no pressure.”
“Right, no pressure...” He closed his eyes and inaudibly whispered something, probably talking to himself. With nothing else to do, I moved as close to his face as I could, just to entertain myself and maybe even startle him when he opened his eyes again. A few moments later, he stopped his whispering and said, “I can feel your breath, you know that, right?”
“You can? Oh.” I backed away, and Guy opened his eyes. The next thing I knew, he was brushing his hand against my face, pushing away a lock of hair, which was still a bit damp from earlier. His hand slid down to my collarbone and rested there for a minute.
“You have such a nice neck,” he muttered. Then he pulled his hand away. “Sorry, I'm just really nervous.”
This time I decided to take the lead. Cupping his face in my hand, I slowly leaned in and pressed my lips against his. He was much more enthusiastic now, and soon enough I felt his tongue slip into my mouth. He still tasted like watermelon. I found myself subconsciously trying to remove clothing, both his and mine, and I think he might have been doing the same. It's a bit weird to think back on all of it and realize that I was making out with Guy, while sitting on the bed in his hotel room and undressing. It felt so natural, though, when it was happening.
Some odd minutes later, I found myself stripped down to just my boxers and throwing Guy's jeans to the floor. He scooted back up against the pillows, and I quickly climbed over him. Neither one of us could get enough of the other, it seemed. He had a firm grip on my back, though in due time his hold moved to the waistband of my boxers. This was gonna be a long night.
I slowly opened the door of the shower room, peeking my head out to see if there were people around. I didn't see anyone. Tightly holding on to my towel, I made a run for it. It's really not the best idea to run in a towel. Regardless, I made it without any embarrassing mishaps occurring. I pushed the door open and stumbled inside, only to find that someone else was already in there.
“Oh, shit. Sorry!” I apologized as the dark-haired man turned around. He took one look at me and turned back.
“No, it's OK. Do you need to get changed? 'Cause I can leave. I wanted to talk to you, but it can wait,” he rambled.
“You wanted to talk to me?” He nodded, his back still turned. I had a feeling that I knew what he wanted to talk about.
“It can wait if you need to change. I'll just be waiting outside,” he added as he walked towards the door, trying not to look at me.
“Right... give me about five minutes, then?” I said as he opened the door.
“I'll just be waiting out here.”
Over the next five minutes, I tried to dress as slowly as I could. I really didn't want to talk to Guy. It's not that I didn't like him, actually, the problem stemmed from the fact that I did like him. Much more than I'd care to admit. Jonny told me he thought Guy felt the same, but I couldn't be too sure. And knowing Jonny, he'd probably gone and talked to Guy about it, too. I was not prepared to deal with all of this at that moment. But I thought something to myself, as I was putting on my socks, which was will I ever be prepared to deal with all of this? Is there even a way to prepare for it? It's not like I had a choice, anyway.
Once the last article of clothing had been placed on me, there was really no reason left for me to stall. I opened the door, and Guy was sitting right outside, waiting. When he saw me, he stood up.
“So, you wanted to talk?” I asked.
“Yeah,” was all he said. He kept his eyes pointed at the ground, his fingers fumbling with the hem on his shirt.
“Were you planning on actually talking?” He remained silent for a few more moments.
“Jonny told you.” My earlier suspicions that Jonny had talked to Guy appeared to be correct.
“And then he told you?” Guy stopped messing with his shirt, and took a step closer. Then he lifted those gorgeous eyes of his.
“Are you... interested?” There was no point lying to him, as it wouldn't do either of us any good.
“Yes,” I said, moving closer to him. “Very much.” He didn't say anything in return, but he did make a sudden movement towards the door of the dressing room. Before I knew it, we were both back in there, sitting on the large sofa.
“No pressure, right?” Guy said, staring awkwardly at the floor. I just stared at his gorgeous face, quite unsure of what he meant. Of course, I'd stare at that handsome man all day long if I could, with his rugged stubble laying against his upper lip in such a way that made him even more irresistible, if that was even possible. He finally looked up at me, after a few moments of silence, and clarified, “I mean, it's all right if nothing happens between us...”
I wanted to ask him if he was telling me it's all right or asking me, but those dark eyes were more than I could handle. Instead, I just leaned forward, hoping he'd get the hint. He followed my motion, and before long our lips met. It was a quick kiss at first; just testing the waters. His lips felt smooth and he tasted like watermelon, probably because that was the only thing that had been left on the fruit tray after the show. It was nice, though.
I half-expected him to decide that none of this was a good idea, and bolt out of the room as quickly as he could. He didn't, though, which I was extremely grateful for. I was also grateful that we were sitting, as the height difference between us could have been awkward. Speaking of awkward, there we were, still centimeters apart, but not doing anything, not saying anything. But as I looked deeper into his hypnotizing eyes, I realised the silence was not so horrible, and there was a burning question longing to leap from his smooth lips: Should we take this back to my place?
Now, as we were on tour in a foreign country, it was not so much his place as his hotel room, but within ten minutes he led me into the small, dimly lit room. The bed was snug against the corner wall, its neatly-made sheets just begging to be ruffled. It welcomed me with open arms as I sat down and watched Guy walk over to the mini-bar.
“Do you want anything?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of some unidentified liquid.
“What, you need to get drunk to do it with me?” He turned around with an odd expression on his face, both apologetic and horrified. I tried to laugh it off. “I'm good.”
Deciding that the alcohol probably wasn't the best idea (or maybe he never actually planned on drinking anything), he stored the bottle back in its resting place. “I'm sorry, I'm just a bit nervous,” he said. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair and flopped down beside me on the bed. “This is... something I've been thinking about for a while, you know, and it's just a little... nerve-wracking to actually be here.”
“I know what you mean,” I said and flashed him a warm smile. “There's no reason to be, though, right? Like you said, no pressure.”
“Right, no pressure...” He closed his eyes and inaudibly whispered something, probably talking to himself. With nothing else to do, I moved as close to his face as I could, just to entertain myself and maybe even startle him when he opened his eyes again. A few moments later, he stopped his whispering and said, “I can feel your breath, you know that, right?”
“You can? Oh.” I backed away, and Guy opened his eyes. The next thing I knew, he was brushing his hand against my face, pushing away a lock of hair, which was still a bit damp from earlier. His hand slid down to my collarbone and rested there for a minute.
“You have such a nice neck,” he muttered. Then he pulled his hand away. “Sorry, I'm just really nervous.”
This time I decided to take the lead. Cupping his face in my hand, I slowly leaned in and pressed my lips against his. He was much more enthusiastic now, and soon enough I felt his tongue slip into my mouth. He still tasted like watermelon. I found myself subconsciously trying to remove clothing, both his and mine, and I think he might have been doing the same. It's a bit weird to think back on all of it and realize that I was making out with Guy, while sitting on the bed in his hotel room and undressing. It felt so natural, though, when it was happening.
Some odd minutes later, I found myself stripped down to just my boxers and throwing Guy's jeans to the floor. He scooted back up against the pillows, and I quickly climbed over him. Neither one of us could get enough of the other, it seemed. He had a firm grip on my back, though in due time his hold moved to the waistband of my boxers. This was gonna be a long night.
-
“Something wrong?” Jonny asked, pointing to the cup in front of me. “That's the third coffee you've had in half an hour.” He's such a good friend.
We were sitting in the lobby of the hotel we'd been staying at. It was in fact my third coffee; it had been a week since Guy and I hooked up, and he hadn't talked to me. Literally. Not even one word.
I didn't answer Jonny, but I could feel him staring expectantly at me. I fingered the rim of the cup and sighed. “Last week... remember that thing you told me?” I looked up. Jonny was indeed staring expectantly at me, his hands clasped together on the table. “About Guy.”
Jonny nodded. “Did you talk to him?”
“We talked, yeah. And, uh, we ended up... you know.” Jonny raised his eyebrows in slight shock, then moved his chair closer to mine and lowered his voice.
“Did you have sex with him?” he quietly said.
“Everything but,” I said, shaking my head. “Now he won't talk to me.”
“He won't talk to you at all, or...?”
“He hasn't even said, like, hello or anything. He just keeps avoiding me.” I took a sip of my miserable coffee. I don't even know why I kept drinking it, it didn't help at all. Jonny raised a hand and scratched the side of his head.
“Have you tried to talk to him?” he asked after a while.
“No, but I don't think it'll do any good.”
“Do you want me to talk to him for you?”
“You'd do that for me?”
“Yeah, sure. Just...” he trailed off, staring into the distance. I turned to see what he was looking at. Guy was standing on the opposite side of the room, talking to some girl who worked at the hotel. He seemed to be pretty friendly with her. “Should I do it now?”
“If you want,” I said. Jonny stood up, giving me a reassuring pat on my shoulder, and walked over to Guy. Within seconds, the hotel worker walked away, slightly annoyed. It was almost impossible to tell how the conversation was going just by looking at them. From a distance it looked like they were just having a normal conversation. But my cynicism told me that it probably wasn't going well.
A few minutes later, they parted ways. Jonny walked back to me, and Guy left the building altogether. Jonny had a blank expression on his face, like he didn't want to give away how their talk went.
“What did he say?” I asked as Jonny sat down. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Bad news.
“He said he doesn't know what you're talking about, and nothing happened between you two.” Worse than I had imagined. At that moment, everything seemed to hurt. My head, my heart, even my hand, though that was probably from the hot coffee I'd spilled on it. In any case, it was a pain I'd never felt before, and I've had a lot of girls in my life that I cared for tell me that they hated me. Nothing ever felt this horrible, though.
“Why would he do that?” My voice was starting to shake.
“I don't know,” he said. “I do believe you, though. Guy is so bad at lying.”
“He's the one who wanted to talk to me in the first place. If he hadn't said anything then nothing would have happened. He didn't seem to be having a bad time, either. I don't get why he would lie...”
“I'm sorry, Chris.” I rested my elbow on the table and buried half of my face in my hand. I felt like I was gonna cry. As strange as it sounds, and as supportive and helpful as Jonny was, I didn't want him to see me like that. So, I came up with an idea.
“Did he say where he was going?” I asked, the question muffled by my hand.
“What?”
I let my hand drop to my side and repeated, “When he left, did he say where he was going?”
“Chris.” Jonny gave me a look that said 'Give it up, you twit,' but he wasn't going to convince me.
“Did he?”
Jonny sighed, “He said he was gonna go to that antique shop down the road from here.” I jumped up from my seat, nearly spilling my now fourth cup of coffee. I wanted to thank Jonny, and tell him how glad I was to have a friend like him, but I really needed to get out before I started bawling.
“I'll see you later.” Jonny nodded and waved.
“Good luck.”
The antique shop was about a three-minute walk from the hotel. It was a sunny day, which I thought clashed horribly with my situation. There were lots of people on the sidewalk, mostly couples, I think, and I was surprised that no one recognized me, though I was also extremely grateful for that.
The door was open, probably to let some fresh air into the dusty, brown store. There weren't so many people inside, though it was hard to tell because the aisles were built up so high that it was nearly impossible to see anything besides the shelves. I walked down a few of the aisles, but they were empty with the exception of various ancient pots and vases and such. At the end of one row, however, I saw a sign pointing to a section titled, “MUSIC.” It was a definite bet that Guy would be there.
Sure enough, there he was, standing in front of a rack of records, silently flipping through the selection. I was going to talk to him, but I wasn't sure yet what to say. I took a few moments to just stare at him, trying to gather up the courage to talk to him and trying to figure out what to freaking say. I didn't have to think for long, though, before the conversation was started for me.
“You followed me here?” I have to admit, I was pretty startled. I wasn't sure how he knew I was there, until I realized that there was a giant mirror next to him. He turned around and said, “I suppose you want to talk.”
I took a few steps closer to him, and with my shaky voice asked, “Why have you been ignoring me?”
“Sorry,” he said, though he didn't look all that sorry. He sounded sorry, though. “It was a horrible thing to do, but... so was what we did.”
I couldn't believe what he was saying. What the hell was going through his head? “But you wanted-”
“I did. I don't anymore.” I could feel the tears building in my eyes. He remained standing for a few moments, then he walked away towards the exit. Suddenly, a surge of anger burst through me.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I shouted at him. As if he couldn't be any more of a jerk, he continued to walk away, forcefully raising his arm and flipping me off. I was fully prepared to break down right then and there, but I didn't want to make more of a scene. Instead, I ran out of the store, almost literally, and didn't stop until I stumbled upon a bench in the middle of some small park. No one else was there, so it was perfect.
I just sat down on the bench, pulled my knees up to my chest, and fell to pieces.
We were sitting in the lobby of the hotel we'd been staying at. It was in fact my third coffee; it had been a week since Guy and I hooked up, and he hadn't talked to me. Literally. Not even one word.
I didn't answer Jonny, but I could feel him staring expectantly at me. I fingered the rim of the cup and sighed. “Last week... remember that thing you told me?” I looked up. Jonny was indeed staring expectantly at me, his hands clasped together on the table. “About Guy.”
Jonny nodded. “Did you talk to him?”
“We talked, yeah. And, uh, we ended up... you know.” Jonny raised his eyebrows in slight shock, then moved his chair closer to mine and lowered his voice.
“Did you have sex with him?” he quietly said.
“Everything but,” I said, shaking my head. “Now he won't talk to me.”
“He won't talk to you at all, or...?”
“He hasn't even said, like, hello or anything. He just keeps avoiding me.” I took a sip of my miserable coffee. I don't even know why I kept drinking it, it didn't help at all. Jonny raised a hand and scratched the side of his head.
“Have you tried to talk to him?” he asked after a while.
“No, but I don't think it'll do any good.”
“Do you want me to talk to him for you?”
“You'd do that for me?”
“Yeah, sure. Just...” he trailed off, staring into the distance. I turned to see what he was looking at. Guy was standing on the opposite side of the room, talking to some girl who worked at the hotel. He seemed to be pretty friendly with her. “Should I do it now?”
“If you want,” I said. Jonny stood up, giving me a reassuring pat on my shoulder, and walked over to Guy. Within seconds, the hotel worker walked away, slightly annoyed. It was almost impossible to tell how the conversation was going just by looking at them. From a distance it looked like they were just having a normal conversation. But my cynicism told me that it probably wasn't going well.
A few minutes later, they parted ways. Jonny walked back to me, and Guy left the building altogether. Jonny had a blank expression on his face, like he didn't want to give away how their talk went.
“What did he say?” I asked as Jonny sat down. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Bad news.
“He said he doesn't know what you're talking about, and nothing happened between you two.” Worse than I had imagined. At that moment, everything seemed to hurt. My head, my heart, even my hand, though that was probably from the hot coffee I'd spilled on it. In any case, it was a pain I'd never felt before, and I've had a lot of girls in my life that I cared for tell me that they hated me. Nothing ever felt this horrible, though.
“Why would he do that?” My voice was starting to shake.
“I don't know,” he said. “I do believe you, though. Guy is so bad at lying.”
“He's the one who wanted to talk to me in the first place. If he hadn't said anything then nothing would have happened. He didn't seem to be having a bad time, either. I don't get why he would lie...”
“I'm sorry, Chris.” I rested my elbow on the table and buried half of my face in my hand. I felt like I was gonna cry. As strange as it sounds, and as supportive and helpful as Jonny was, I didn't want him to see me like that. So, I came up with an idea.
“Did he say where he was going?” I asked, the question muffled by my hand.
“What?”
I let my hand drop to my side and repeated, “When he left, did he say where he was going?”
“Chris.” Jonny gave me a look that said 'Give it up, you twit,' but he wasn't going to convince me.
“Did he?”
Jonny sighed, “He said he was gonna go to that antique shop down the road from here.” I jumped up from my seat, nearly spilling my now fourth cup of coffee. I wanted to thank Jonny, and tell him how glad I was to have a friend like him, but I really needed to get out before I started bawling.
“I'll see you later.” Jonny nodded and waved.
“Good luck.”
The antique shop was about a three-minute walk from the hotel. It was a sunny day, which I thought clashed horribly with my situation. There were lots of people on the sidewalk, mostly couples, I think, and I was surprised that no one recognized me, though I was also extremely grateful for that.
The door was open, probably to let some fresh air into the dusty, brown store. There weren't so many people inside, though it was hard to tell because the aisles were built up so high that it was nearly impossible to see anything besides the shelves. I walked down a few of the aisles, but they were empty with the exception of various ancient pots and vases and such. At the end of one row, however, I saw a sign pointing to a section titled, “MUSIC.” It was a definite bet that Guy would be there.
Sure enough, there he was, standing in front of a rack of records, silently flipping through the selection. I was going to talk to him, but I wasn't sure yet what to say. I took a few moments to just stare at him, trying to gather up the courage to talk to him and trying to figure out what to freaking say. I didn't have to think for long, though, before the conversation was started for me.
“You followed me here?” I have to admit, I was pretty startled. I wasn't sure how he knew I was there, until I realized that there was a giant mirror next to him. He turned around and said, “I suppose you want to talk.”
I took a few steps closer to him, and with my shaky voice asked, “Why have you been ignoring me?”
“Sorry,” he said, though he didn't look all that sorry. He sounded sorry, though. “It was a horrible thing to do, but... so was what we did.”
I couldn't believe what he was saying. What the hell was going through his head? “But you wanted-”
“I did. I don't anymore.” I could feel the tears building in my eyes. He remained standing for a few moments, then he walked away towards the exit. Suddenly, a surge of anger burst through me.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I shouted at him. As if he couldn't be any more of a jerk, he continued to walk away, forcefully raising his arm and flipping me off. I was fully prepared to break down right then and there, but I didn't want to make more of a scene. Instead, I ran out of the store, almost literally, and didn't stop until I stumbled upon a bench in the middle of some small park. No one else was there, so it was perfect.
I just sat down on the bench, pulled my knees up to my chest, and fell to pieces.
-
What was wrong with me? One day I'm in love with Chris, and the next I want nothing to do with him. To go from 'I want to spend the rest of my life with you' to 'No, thanks, I'd rather vomit' in less than twenty four hours... something's gotta be wrong with me.
After my little run-in with Chris, which went disastrously right, I went for a walk. I needed the fresh air and the thinking time. It didn't do much good, but I found my feet dragging me to Will's hotel room. I wasn't sure if he'd be in, but I took the chance anyway.
His warm smile greeted me as he opened the door, graciously accompanied by a, “Hey, Guy.”
“Hi, Will,” I smiled back, though a bit forced it seemed. “C-can we talk?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, widening the doorway. “Come on in, then.”
I did as he said and took a seat in one of the chairs by the far wall. It was fairly comfortable, considering it was just a wooden chair without a cushion or anything. The carpet looked nice, too, what with it's tasteful red plushness. And the walls were pretty; a sort of off-white color, I think. Will sat in the other cushion-less chair next to me.
“I would think you'd have gone to Jonny to talk,” he laughed. “Seeing as everyone else does.”
“I might have, but he already knows, and I don't think he's on my side anyway.”
“Oh. Well, what did you want to talk about?” he politely asked. I decided to keep it to the point.
“Chris.” He stared, waiting for me to continue. I didn't really feel like it.
“OK,” he finally said. “What about Chris?”
Sometimes I wonder why Will shaves his head. I remember back in the old days, when we were just starting out as a band, he had a full head of hair. It was gorgeous hair, I always thought, and I was a bit envious of him. Then one day, he just shaved it all off. He's not balding, so is it just easier to maintain this way? It's a really perplexing thing. He didn't care, though. He just wanted me to answer him.
“We, um... we did some stuff...”
“Stuff? Like... stuff stuff?” he said with wide eyes. I nodded. “When?”
“Last week.” The window was closed, but the blinds were open. It was such a lovely day out. The sun was shining as bright as ever, and there were very few clouds scattered throughout the sky. I could just barely see the people walking down the street. I thought I saw a rather tall curly-haired man jogging by. I probably didn't. “I haven't talked to him since then.”
“You haven't talked to him about it?”
“I haven't talked to him, period.” That sentence seemed to clarify to Will my problem. He briskly ran his hand over his bearded chin, and I knew I was in for it.
“Why not?” His voice was very forceful and scolding now. “Guy, that's a really jerky thing to do, even for you.”
“I know. I'm not interested anymore, though.” It was a realization that hit me the morning after Chris and I were together. We fell asleep in the bed in my hotel room, but when I woke up he wasn't there. It wasn't a surprise, though; Chris is an early-riser and he probably snuck back to his room so no one would suspect anything. What was surprising was that I wasn't sad, I wasn't even just OK with him not being there. I was relieved.
After quite a bit of thought on the subject, I came to the conclusion that I was no longer in love with Chris. So, I figured there was no point in talking to him, really. Sure, if he started talking to me, I'd listen and respond, but I wouldn't go and seek out a conversation with him. There was no need for such a thing.
“Just because you're not interested makes it OK for you to be careless with his feelings? How did you think Chris would handle this?”
“He's a big boy,” I said. “Everyone always tip-toes around him like he's some sort of fragile little figurine. Just because you drop him doesn't mean he's gonna break.”
“But he did break, didn't he? Have you even looked at him over the past week? He's not been doing well. And now I know why.” Will was tearing through my plans. It did not make me happy.
“I... couldn't look at him...”
Maybe I should take this back a step. I lie, sometimes. Not just for the fun of it, though, but for a purpose. This is one of those times.
Of course I'm still in love with Chris! There is nothing wrong with me besides that fact. When I woke up that morning, I was sad that he wasn't there. I realized not that I wasn't in love with him, but that I'm so in love with him that any little thing he did could probably break my heart, even unintentionally. In order to combat this, I decided to cut myself free of him. If I don't interact with him, I can't get hurt.
Right?
What I didn't think about was Chris, funny enough. He did get hurt. It was awful to see him all sad and... well, hurt. But I just couldn't let myself be so vulnerable. All I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and tell him how much he meant to me, but I couldn't.
“You are the worst liar I've ever met, Guy,” Will said. “You are still interested.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But the thing is... I want him to hate me, so that way... well, if I make him hate me, then I can at least prepare myself for it, you know? This way I won't get hurt so easily.”
“That's horrible logic.”
“I know it is, but I still went through with it. Will,” I cried, placing my hand over my forehead, “I flipped him off.”
“You are so...”
“I know, but I had to do it. He still likes me.”
“If you like him, and he likes you, then why the hell are you sitting here talking to me?!” he yelled.
“I don't... It's too much of a risk for me.”
“It wasn't too much for Chris.” I hate it when Will makes really good points. I also hate it when he uses my own words against me. “Guy, just because someone drops you doesn't mean you're gonna break.”
“You're a real bastard, you know that?”
He laughed and grinned a horribly smug grin. “I'm not the one ignoring my friend for very selfish reasons.”
“Fine,” I said. “I'll tell him the truth. I hope he forgives me.”
“He's Chris. Of course he's gonna forgive you.”
After my little run-in with Chris, which went disastrously right, I went for a walk. I needed the fresh air and the thinking time. It didn't do much good, but I found my feet dragging me to Will's hotel room. I wasn't sure if he'd be in, but I took the chance anyway.
His warm smile greeted me as he opened the door, graciously accompanied by a, “Hey, Guy.”
“Hi, Will,” I smiled back, though a bit forced it seemed. “C-can we talk?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, widening the doorway. “Come on in, then.”
I did as he said and took a seat in one of the chairs by the far wall. It was fairly comfortable, considering it was just a wooden chair without a cushion or anything. The carpet looked nice, too, what with it's tasteful red plushness. And the walls were pretty; a sort of off-white color, I think. Will sat in the other cushion-less chair next to me.
“I would think you'd have gone to Jonny to talk,” he laughed. “Seeing as everyone else does.”
“I might have, but he already knows, and I don't think he's on my side anyway.”
“Oh. Well, what did you want to talk about?” he politely asked. I decided to keep it to the point.
“Chris.” He stared, waiting for me to continue. I didn't really feel like it.
“OK,” he finally said. “What about Chris?”
Sometimes I wonder why Will shaves his head. I remember back in the old days, when we were just starting out as a band, he had a full head of hair. It was gorgeous hair, I always thought, and I was a bit envious of him. Then one day, he just shaved it all off. He's not balding, so is it just easier to maintain this way? It's a really perplexing thing. He didn't care, though. He just wanted me to answer him.
“We, um... we did some stuff...”
“Stuff? Like... stuff stuff?” he said with wide eyes. I nodded. “When?”
“Last week.” The window was closed, but the blinds were open. It was such a lovely day out. The sun was shining as bright as ever, and there were very few clouds scattered throughout the sky. I could just barely see the people walking down the street. I thought I saw a rather tall curly-haired man jogging by. I probably didn't. “I haven't talked to him since then.”
“You haven't talked to him about it?”
“I haven't talked to him, period.” That sentence seemed to clarify to Will my problem. He briskly ran his hand over his bearded chin, and I knew I was in for it.
“Why not?” His voice was very forceful and scolding now. “Guy, that's a really jerky thing to do, even for you.”
“I know. I'm not interested anymore, though.” It was a realization that hit me the morning after Chris and I were together. We fell asleep in the bed in my hotel room, but when I woke up he wasn't there. It wasn't a surprise, though; Chris is an early-riser and he probably snuck back to his room so no one would suspect anything. What was surprising was that I wasn't sad, I wasn't even just OK with him not being there. I was relieved.
After quite a bit of thought on the subject, I came to the conclusion that I was no longer in love with Chris. So, I figured there was no point in talking to him, really. Sure, if he started talking to me, I'd listen and respond, but I wouldn't go and seek out a conversation with him. There was no need for such a thing.
“Just because you're not interested makes it OK for you to be careless with his feelings? How did you think Chris would handle this?”
“He's a big boy,” I said. “Everyone always tip-toes around him like he's some sort of fragile little figurine. Just because you drop him doesn't mean he's gonna break.”
“But he did break, didn't he? Have you even looked at him over the past week? He's not been doing well. And now I know why.” Will was tearing through my plans. It did not make me happy.
“I... couldn't look at him...”
Maybe I should take this back a step. I lie, sometimes. Not just for the fun of it, though, but for a purpose. This is one of those times.
Of course I'm still in love with Chris! There is nothing wrong with me besides that fact. When I woke up that morning, I was sad that he wasn't there. I realized not that I wasn't in love with him, but that I'm so in love with him that any little thing he did could probably break my heart, even unintentionally. In order to combat this, I decided to cut myself free of him. If I don't interact with him, I can't get hurt.
Right?
What I didn't think about was Chris, funny enough. He did get hurt. It was awful to see him all sad and... well, hurt. But I just couldn't let myself be so vulnerable. All I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and tell him how much he meant to me, but I couldn't.
“You are the worst liar I've ever met, Guy,” Will said. “You are still interested.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “But the thing is... I want him to hate me, so that way... well, if I make him hate me, then I can at least prepare myself for it, you know? This way I won't get hurt so easily.”
“That's horrible logic.”
“I know it is, but I still went through with it. Will,” I cried, placing my hand over my forehead, “I flipped him off.”
“You are so...”
“I know, but I had to do it. He still likes me.”
“If you like him, and he likes you, then why the hell are you sitting here talking to me?!” he yelled.
“I don't... It's too much of a risk for me.”
“It wasn't too much for Chris.” I hate it when Will makes really good points. I also hate it when he uses my own words against me. “Guy, just because someone drops you doesn't mean you're gonna break.”
“You're a real bastard, you know that?”
He laughed and grinned a horribly smug grin. “I'm not the one ignoring my friend for very selfish reasons.”
“Fine,” I said. “I'll tell him the truth. I hope he forgives me.”
“He's Chris. Of course he's gonna forgive you.”
-
I worried about what was gonna happen between Chris and Guy. When I talked to Guy, he denied what I told him Chris had said, but he was obviously lying, and he sounded a bit angry with the fact that Chris had told me. He's not a very intimidating man, but he's quite an asshole when he's angry. Or really, really, really drunk. Of course, it didn't help that Chris never came back. I went about my business anyway, silently hoping that everything was fine.
Later in the day, I decided to take a stroll around the city and look for Chris. When I found him, he was sitting on a bench about a mile from the hotel. Judging by his somber state, I assumed that following Guy did not work out well for him. He was curled up, knees to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. I sat down next to him, but he didn't move at all.
“How long have you been sitting here for?” I asked. He shrugged.
“It feels like forever, though.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Can we go somewhere else?”
“Do you wanna go back to the hotel?”
“OK.” He dropped his feet to the ground, then ran his hands over his face a few times before finally standing up. I soon joined him, and we began to walk back to the hotel. “It was such a lovely day today,” he said as he stared up at the sky. “I wish it was always this nice.”
“It was pretty nice, huh? But I hear tomorrow's supposed to be even warmer.”
“Good. I like this weather.” We continued to walk down the nearly empty sidewalk, in almost complete silence. Every now and then Chris would mention something, either something he saw in the clouds, or something about one of the store we passed, but other than that there wasn't much conversation going on. It was fine, though; I knew he wanted to wait until we got back to the hotel to really talk.
We ended up going to my room to talk. There was a rather small couch thing in there, so we both sat down on that. I didn't want to force Chris to talk, so I didn't say anything until he did.
“I did talk to him. When I went to the antique place.”
“And?”
“And I asked him why,” he quietly said, staring down at his hands, which were resting in his lap. “And he told me he didn't like me anymore.”
“Is that all he said?”
“Basically. And then I said, 'Thanks for letting me know,' and he... Jonny, he flipped me off.” His voice was shaking, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “He hates me.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder, and was about to say some comforting thing to him, when he lunged forward and buried his head in my torso. So instead, I rubbed my hand up and down his arm while he sobbed. “I don't think he hates you, Chris.” Chris said something in reply, but between his crying and the fact that his face was hidden, it just sounded like a bunch of mumbling. “What?”
He slowly lifted his head and looked at me. “Jonny, thank you for being such a good friend,” he said.
“Not a problem,” I said, flashing him a friendly smile. He tried to smile back, but it didn't really work. He just kept staring at me. There was a noticeable change in the expression in his eyes, but I wasn't sure what it had changed to.
“Jonny...”
“Yea-” I began, before I was rudely interrupted by Chris, who had decided to kiss me. “Chris, what are you doing?!”
“Shh,” he said, holding his finger up to my mouth. “There's no need to talk.” He removed his finger and replaced it with his own mouth. I felt kinda bad, like if I were to kiss him back I'd be taking advantage of him or something, but I did it anyway. I mean, come on, I was gonna let an opportunity like that slip by? I don't think so.
And he was so sweet. His one hand rested on my chest, but he used the other to gently run his fingers through my hair. Kissing him was like... I don't even know how to describe it. It was wonderful. I did feel a bit bad, though. But I mostly didn't. I was too, you know, caught up in the moment. Otherwise I wouldn't have taken advantage of him when he was in such a vulnerable state.
In any case, some precious minutes later, Chris finally pulled away. I slowly opened my eyes to see Chris still a mere inch away from me, his eyes darting over my face. At first, he looked like he was smiling. Pretty soon that changed, though. The longer he looked at me, the more his smile turned into a frown.
“Oh, Jonny... I'm so sorry,” he said as he backed away. “I-I didn't mean...”
“Don't worry about it.”
“I'm so sorry,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Don't be. It's fine.”
“I'm such a fucking idiot!” He buried his head in his hands momentarily and screamed like mad. “Oh my God, Jon, can you please slap me?”
Even though he sounded completely serious and very angry with himself, I couldn't help laughing. “I don't think that'll solve any problems.”
“Not slapping me's not gonna solve any problems, either, but you seem to be OK with doing that.”
“Good point. But I'm still not gonna slap you.”
He shook his head, and sighed. “I should get over him, shouldn't I?”
“Guy?”
“No, David Hasselhoff,” he retorted. “He's so dreamy, but I just can't have him. I think it's time for me to let him go.”
“It's not easy to get over someone, you know,” I said. “It might not happen at all, no matter how hard you try.”
He stared at me with this painful look on his face. “Seriously, just slap me. Or punch me, that might be better.”
“Couldn't even if I wanted to.”
“You really are a good friend. Too good, even.”
“Maybe you could get Guy to slap you. That'll probably help you to get over him.”
“That's actually a pretty good idea,” he laughed. “Thanks, man.”
-
Guy practically went out of his way to find Chris after his talk with Will. The first place he tried was, of course, the hotel, since he was already there, but Chris wasn't in his hotel room, and Guy didn't have the slightest idea where Jonny's room was. Instead, he went for a walk around the immediate area and hoped that Chris was out there somewhere. He even went back to the antique shop, but nothing.
He sadly made his way into the hotel lobby, cynically grunting as the door greeter spouted a, "Good evening, sir!" at him. He'd have walked right past Chris if he hadn't looked up for two seconds to find the elevator.
Chris was sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the room, reading some sort of book. He looked tired, sad, yet there was this air about him that said I'll be fine. Guy took a chance and walked over to him. Chris didn't look up, didn't even notice that Guy was there, actually, until Guy spoke up.
"Chris." Chris lifted his big blue eyes.
"So, you're talking to me now?" Guy pulled out a chair and sat opposite Chris. He attempted to start several different sentences, but not one of them sounded right in his head.
"Will you forgive me?" Guy quietly asked.
Chris took a good look at Guy, and snapped back, "Nice apology."
"Nothing I say will come out right, so... But I'm really, really sorry."
"Why should I forgive you?"
"Because I didn't meant to hurt you," Guy said, connecting his eyes with Chris's to let him see exactly what he was thinking. "I lied... to you, to Jonny, to myself. I think I lied to Will, too."
"Did you apologize to any of them?"
Guy was a bit taken aback, but after a few moments he shook his head. "No, why would I? I'm not in love with them."
As soon as the words left Guy's mouth, Chris's eyes enlarged to the size of tennis balls. "In love?"
Guy wasn't sure what to do. There was certainly no taking back what he said, but Chris looked a bit frightened. After careful thought, he finally decided on, "Yes."
"You're in love with me," Chris stated in complete disbelief. "You don't hate me."
"Of course I don't hate you, Chris, I love you. I love you... more than I thought I could ever love anything. And that's why I lied, because I knew how much I love you, and I didn't want to get hurt. But then you got hurt, and... it just all went wrong."
"That's pretty selfish."
"I know." Guy continued to stare at Chris, who was glancing down at the book in his hand. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid earlier, but... It is what it is, I suppose. I just want you to forgive me. You don't have to like me or anything."
"I do," Chris said, and Guy waited for him to continue. He looked up at Guy once more, with kind eyes. "I forgive you."
"Do you like me?"
"Yeah. And I'd like to be with you, but I don't know if that's such a good idea right now." The words stung Guy, but he knew he deserved it.
"We can just be friends. As long as you forgive me," Guy said, giving Chris a tepid smile. Chris shook his head.
"I don't want to be your friend," he said, and laughed, which surprised Guy a bit. "More than that would be nice."
"But you just said-"
"Since when am I a reliable source of anything?" Chris interrupted. "I said I didn't think it was a good idea, that doesn't mean that I don't want it to happen."
"Are you saying you'll take me back?"
Later in the day, I decided to take a stroll around the city and look for Chris. When I found him, he was sitting on a bench about a mile from the hotel. Judging by his somber state, I assumed that following Guy did not work out well for him. He was curled up, knees to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. I sat down next to him, but he didn't move at all.
“How long have you been sitting here for?” I asked. He shrugged.
“It feels like forever, though.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Can we go somewhere else?”
“Do you wanna go back to the hotel?”
“OK.” He dropped his feet to the ground, then ran his hands over his face a few times before finally standing up. I soon joined him, and we began to walk back to the hotel. “It was such a lovely day today,” he said as he stared up at the sky. “I wish it was always this nice.”
“It was pretty nice, huh? But I hear tomorrow's supposed to be even warmer.”
“Good. I like this weather.” We continued to walk down the nearly empty sidewalk, in almost complete silence. Every now and then Chris would mention something, either something he saw in the clouds, or something about one of the store we passed, but other than that there wasn't much conversation going on. It was fine, though; I knew he wanted to wait until we got back to the hotel to really talk.
We ended up going to my room to talk. There was a rather small couch thing in there, so we both sat down on that. I didn't want to force Chris to talk, so I didn't say anything until he did.
“I did talk to him. When I went to the antique place.”
“And?”
“And I asked him why,” he quietly said, staring down at his hands, which were resting in his lap. “And he told me he didn't like me anymore.”
“Is that all he said?”
“Basically. And then I said, 'Thanks for letting me know,' and he... Jonny, he flipped me off.” His voice was shaking, and he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “He hates me.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder, and was about to say some comforting thing to him, when he lunged forward and buried his head in my torso. So instead, I rubbed my hand up and down his arm while he sobbed. “I don't think he hates you, Chris.” Chris said something in reply, but between his crying and the fact that his face was hidden, it just sounded like a bunch of mumbling. “What?”
He slowly lifted his head and looked at me. “Jonny, thank you for being such a good friend,” he said.
“Not a problem,” I said, flashing him a friendly smile. He tried to smile back, but it didn't really work. He just kept staring at me. There was a noticeable change in the expression in his eyes, but I wasn't sure what it had changed to.
“Jonny...”
“Yea-” I began, before I was rudely interrupted by Chris, who had decided to kiss me. “Chris, what are you doing?!”
“Shh,” he said, holding his finger up to my mouth. “There's no need to talk.” He removed his finger and replaced it with his own mouth. I felt kinda bad, like if I were to kiss him back I'd be taking advantage of him or something, but I did it anyway. I mean, come on, I was gonna let an opportunity like that slip by? I don't think so.
And he was so sweet. His one hand rested on my chest, but he used the other to gently run his fingers through my hair. Kissing him was like... I don't even know how to describe it. It was wonderful. I did feel a bit bad, though. But I mostly didn't. I was too, you know, caught up in the moment. Otherwise I wouldn't have taken advantage of him when he was in such a vulnerable state.
In any case, some precious minutes later, Chris finally pulled away. I slowly opened my eyes to see Chris still a mere inch away from me, his eyes darting over my face. At first, he looked like he was smiling. Pretty soon that changed, though. The longer he looked at me, the more his smile turned into a frown.
“Oh, Jonny... I'm so sorry,” he said as he backed away. “I-I didn't mean...”
“Don't worry about it.”
“I'm so sorry,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
“Don't be. It's fine.”
“I'm such a fucking idiot!” He buried his head in his hands momentarily and screamed like mad. “Oh my God, Jon, can you please slap me?”
Even though he sounded completely serious and very angry with himself, I couldn't help laughing. “I don't think that'll solve any problems.”
“Not slapping me's not gonna solve any problems, either, but you seem to be OK with doing that.”
“Good point. But I'm still not gonna slap you.”
He shook his head, and sighed. “I should get over him, shouldn't I?”
“Guy?”
“No, David Hasselhoff,” he retorted. “He's so dreamy, but I just can't have him. I think it's time for me to let him go.”
“It's not easy to get over someone, you know,” I said. “It might not happen at all, no matter how hard you try.”
He stared at me with this painful look on his face. “Seriously, just slap me. Or punch me, that might be better.”
“Couldn't even if I wanted to.”
“You really are a good friend. Too good, even.”
“Maybe you could get Guy to slap you. That'll probably help you to get over him.”
“That's actually a pretty good idea,” he laughed. “Thanks, man.”
-
Guy practically went out of his way to find Chris after his talk with Will. The first place he tried was, of course, the hotel, since he was already there, but Chris wasn't in his hotel room, and Guy didn't have the slightest idea where Jonny's room was. Instead, he went for a walk around the immediate area and hoped that Chris was out there somewhere. He even went back to the antique shop, but nothing.
He sadly made his way into the hotel lobby, cynically grunting as the door greeter spouted a, "Good evening, sir!" at him. He'd have walked right past Chris if he hadn't looked up for two seconds to find the elevator.
Chris was sitting at one of the tables in the corner of the room, reading some sort of book. He looked tired, sad, yet there was this air about him that said I'll be fine. Guy took a chance and walked over to him. Chris didn't look up, didn't even notice that Guy was there, actually, until Guy spoke up.
"Chris." Chris lifted his big blue eyes.
"So, you're talking to me now?" Guy pulled out a chair and sat opposite Chris. He attempted to start several different sentences, but not one of them sounded right in his head.
"Will you forgive me?" Guy quietly asked.
Chris took a good look at Guy, and snapped back, "Nice apology."
"Nothing I say will come out right, so... But I'm really, really sorry."
"Why should I forgive you?"
"Because I didn't meant to hurt you," Guy said, connecting his eyes with Chris's to let him see exactly what he was thinking. "I lied... to you, to Jonny, to myself. I think I lied to Will, too."
"Did you apologize to any of them?"
Guy was a bit taken aback, but after a few moments he shook his head. "No, why would I? I'm not in love with them."
As soon as the words left Guy's mouth, Chris's eyes enlarged to the size of tennis balls. "In love?"
Guy wasn't sure what to do. There was certainly no taking back what he said, but Chris looked a bit frightened. After careful thought, he finally decided on, "Yes."
"You're in love with me," Chris stated in complete disbelief. "You don't hate me."
"Of course I don't hate you, Chris, I love you. I love you... more than I thought I could ever love anything. And that's why I lied, because I knew how much I love you, and I didn't want to get hurt. But then you got hurt, and... it just all went wrong."
"That's pretty selfish."
"I know." Guy continued to stare at Chris, who was glancing down at the book in his hand. "I wish I hadn't been so stupid earlier, but... It is what it is, I suppose. I just want you to forgive me. You don't have to like me or anything."
"I do," Chris said, and Guy waited for him to continue. He looked up at Guy once more, with kind eyes. "I forgive you."
"Do you like me?"
"Yeah. And I'd like to be with you, but I don't know if that's such a good idea right now." The words stung Guy, but he knew he deserved it.
"We can just be friends. As long as you forgive me," Guy said, giving Chris a tepid smile. Chris shook his head.
"I don't want to be your friend," he said, and laughed, which surprised Guy a bit. "More than that would be nice."
"But you just said-"
"Since when am I a reliable source of anything?" Chris interrupted. "I said I didn't think it was a good idea, that doesn't mean that I don't want it to happen."
"Are you saying you'll take me back?"
"Well, I don't think we were really together to begin with, were we? But we can count this as the start of something."
"All right. The start of something... I like it." Guy reached across the table and grabbed Chris's hand. "So, the other guys know about us, then?"
"Well, Jonny knows. You told Will?"
"Yeah. He was actually pretty cool about it. I always thought that he'd maybe have a problem with this sort of thing."
"Nah, Will is, like, the most tolerant person I know. I thought Jonny might flip, though."
"Oh, yeah, does he still like you?"
"I don't know, but... uh, well, I kissed him earlier."
"What?" Guy exclaimed, almost laughing.
"In my defense, I was upset and confused and Jonny was there." Chris turned away in embarrassment and said, "And I pretended he was you."
"Chris, you are... I don't even know what you are. You're Chris."
Chris looked at him, fake tears welling in his eyes, and held a hand to his heart. "That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." Guy smiled the biggest smile ever, and leaned across the table to kiss Chris.
Despite all that had happened over the course of a week, most of it occuring in that single day, neither of the two men could have been happier at that moment. They didn't care that they were practically making out in a rather public place with several people staring in awe, and they certainly didn't care that there was a table in between them, no matter how uncomfortable it was to be pressed up against. It was just them, just Guy and Chris, and nothing else was of any significance at all.
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