"I don't need to be lectured by the biggest whore in Pittsburgh!"
Before my witty comeback could make it past my lips, the wind was knocked out of me as Ben slammed me against a locker. I was still trying to convince myself that my feet hadn't actually left the floor when he leaned in even closer, his eyes spitting fire. I was all for a little rough play every now and then, but it usually involved E, dim lighting and props of some sort. Apart from which, I had a thing about it being consensual, and I didn't recall agreeing to this. I cocked one eyebrow, and glared at him, slowly becoming aware of an all too familiar sensation in my gut; anger. It started as a flickering in the pit of my stomach but like a brush fire, it was gaining speed and intensity with each passing second. I fought it; I've been doing it since I was a child after all. I REFUSED to be like my father, and after the unspeakable incident with Michael last week; I was more vigilant now than ever before. Besides, I kind of understood about the steroids. Ben was grabbing on to a brass ring, shouting a desperate fuck you' to death. Unfortunately he wasn't my concern. Mine was 5'7, and had the tightest, most athletic body, and the deepest chocolate eyes you've ever seen. My concern was, and would always be, Michael.
The door to the locker room swung open and banged against the wall, breaking the tension. One of the regulars sauntered in, and nodded slightly in our direction. He wasn't quite sure what was going on...I was braced against a locker with Ben's face inches from mine...but he wasn't about to interfere. There's a thin line between kink and molestation. A wicked smile crossed his face as he, obviously, remembered our own locker room romp a few months ago.
"Hey, Brian" he smirked.
"Hey," I replied nonchalantly.
Ben took that opportunity to lean off of me, and with a final glare, walked off to his locker. The blood was rushing to my ears, drowning out the voice of reason advising me to end this. Did he really think he was going to get off that easily? With liquid fire coursing through my veins I swooped in for the kill.
"What do you think this would do to Michael?" I saw his back tense and I knew I had him.
"Leave Michael out of this" Ben growled softly, without turning. His voice held a clear warning - Drop. It.
I leaned casually against my open locker, eyeing the rippling muscles in his back. "Does Mikey know that you're pumping yourself full of jungle juice? That those strapping muscles of yours didn't come from perseverance and a balanced diet?"
I couldn't keep the taunt out of my voice. I knew I was pushing it, but then I've always loved living dangerously.
Ben was in front of me in two steps. "I said, leave Michael out of this."
With clenched fists, and barely concealed anger he rounded on me, boxing me in. I met his piercing gaze dead on, and was shocked by what I saw. There was no way this was the same person Michael had introduced me to. Mikey's gentle giant seemed anything but at the moment. His breathing was sporadic, and his eyes were dilated, and darting wildly over my face. If I hadn't held my own against people twice my size, on just about every playground in Pittsburgh, I would have definitely been concerned...well more concerned. But first and foremost in my mind was that Michael hadn't. He wasn't a fighter, and the thought of Ben flying off the handle and possibly hurting Michael over something...anything...fanned the fire in my gut into a raging inferno. I've been protecting Michael since we were 14 years old, and I'll be doing it until the day I die...even if that meant suffering a few broken limbs. I stared into Ben's blue-grey eyes, disconcerted momentarily by my own reflection. My own orbs narrowed dangerously as I allowed myself to think the unthinkable. God help me. If he EVER hit Michael...I breathed a lungful of air to get a grip on my emotions.
Ben's face crumpled in defeat as he read the concern slash warning in my eyes.
"I would never hurt him," he said softly, stepping back.
"That's right, you won't. I'll make sure of that."
"What the hell does that mean?"
Ben leaned in, and I fought the urge to step back. Damn, he was big. Instead, in true Kinney fashion, I stepped forward to meet him. We stood toe-to-toe, and nose-to-nose. Hostility crackled in the air around us. He might be bigger but if I was going down, he was sure as fuck going too. I was pretty sure some of his animosity towards me had to do with Mikey's run in with my fist at the garden party. He probably wanted to take a swing at me right now as pay back, and Michael wasn't around to stop him this time.
"Don't get excited, Professor," I drawled, "I'm just saying that I'll make sure Mikey is safe...by any means necessary." I let subtle the threat hang.
Noise filtered in through the open door as more gym bunnies entered the room chattering happily about pecs, creatine, and late night fucks. Ben backed away from me, and turned on his heel.
"Too bad there's no one to protect him from you," he threw over his shoulder.
Scuse me? Not that shit again.
"Come on Ben" I smirked as I picked up my bag, "I'm his ..."
"...best friend, I know. You've been brainwashing him with that bullshit line for so long he can proudly recite it all by himself now."
"This isn't about me" The anger was churning in my stomach again.
"Isn't it?"
He was crossing into forbidden territory. People have tried to figure out my friendship with Michael for years, and it continues to defy explanation. I definitely wasn't in the mood to hear his own musings on what he thought our friendship was...or wasn't. No one understood what kept Michael and me together, and he wasn't any different, so he could just do everyone a favor and butt the fuck out.
I vigorously toweled my hair allowing the towel to hang over my face, and veil my expression. I wasn't about to let him get under my skin. And even if he did, I sure as hell wasn't about to let him see it.
"Look" I smiled, my game face firmly back in place, "Don't worry about me and Mikey. I've always been there for him, and I'll be there long after you're gone." I let that hang in the air too. Whichever way he exited Mikey's life was fine with me.
"Well, here's the thing Brian" Ben smiled, his lips tight with anger, "I'm not going anywhere...I'm not going to keel over and die, I'm not going to break up with Michael, and I'm not going to run off to Tibet."
"Yeahhhh" he continued, enjoying the anger flaring in my eyes, " Didn't think I knew that's what you wanted, did you? Well I do, and I'm not going to up and move away. I'm not David."
I tried to calm my raging emotions, to ignore the silent screams in my mind; I was not about to show my hand. This was NOT about me. He was the one who was lying to Michael, transforming into some kind of juiced up ogre, and he was not about to turn this one me.
"You're right," I hissed, "you're not David. David was many things but he was never a drug addict."
I sensed his fist before I actually saw it. My eyes flew open in shock and I had a fraction of a second to lift my chin defiantly, and brace myself for the hit.
It never came. Ben's fist stopped a hair's breadth from my nose and still loomed there now, huge and menacing. His fist was so close to my nose that it filled my vision. His left hand gripped my shoulder, and through it I could feel his body trembling with the effort to control himself. I released the breath I didn't realize I was holding and sneered at him. Punk.
I reached up, removed his hand from my shoulder and then pushed against his chest, flicking him away from me as if he were no more important than the lint on one of suits. I was under no illusion however, that I was only able to move him because he allowed me to. The man had a chest of granite.
"You've just been waiting for this, haven't you? Waiting patiently for me to fuck up." Ben's voice was heavy with sorrow, and laden with introspection.
"You all do sooner or later."
"We all?? So suddenly I'm just like everyone else? Is that it?"
Ben crossed his arms in front of him, and eyed me curiously. "You don't think I'm good enough for him"
It was more of a statement than a question but I answered anyway as I dropped onto the bench to lace my trainers.
"I'm here giving you the say no to drugs' speech, Ben. You figure it out."
"I love Michael. I need him."
SO DO I!
"I'd never lie to him" Ben finished in frustration.
"Two out of three ain't bad I guess" I smirked, hoisting my gym bag onto my shoulders.
I had to admit that being witness to Ben's insecurity was empowering. I inwardly snorted laughter. Mikey's hero. Pathetic. I'd suffered through the babbling in his honor, the praise, the awe. Michael's voice played in my head Ben's so together. Ben lives on a higher plane. Ben lives in the now'. Anything witty or introspective that I said would be harpooned with That's what Ben always says!' Ben, Ben, Ben! That's all I've heard for the past few months.
Well look at his Ben now. He was no better than the rest of us. He used drugs to help alter his grip on reality, and make him feel better about life, just like everybody else. At least I didn't lie about my actions.
I turned to go, but a gentle hand on my shoulder stopped me. I looked back into Ben's somber eyes.
"Say it" he quietly demanded.
My eyebrows arched in inquiry.
"I want to hear you say it. Tell me I'm not good enough for him."
Childish declarations bored me. Silence spoke volumes.
"I'm leaving."
"Say it!!"
"YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH!!!"
I don't know which one of us was more shocked. Fuck!! My insides quivered as I fought to regain control.
Ben's slight smirk of victory, coupled with the pain in his eyes, shouted his thoughts at me even before he quietly said the words.
"And you are?"
My heart was beating so loudly I was sure Ben could hear it. This time I stuck to my code of silence, wrenching myself from his grasp and marching away from his judicious gaze. Fuck him and fuck this! I'd had enough of this conversation.
I yanked the door open, not once giving him the satisfaction of looking back, I knew I wasn't worthy but someday I would be. In the meantime, who was I to begrudge Michael what he needed - the flowers, the dates, the heterosexual romantic bullshit that David and Ben fed him? Let him have that. Michael knew that I loved him; I showed him in other ways. David, Ben, Justin and everyone who would come after them, needed to understand. They were the journey; Michael and I were the final destination.
Michael's ass waved suggestively as he danced to his latest CD.
"YOU are my ecstasy. YOU are my dreams to be," he sang to the pan of boiling pasta. I leaned against the doorjamb, my skin still damp from the shower, and took in the show.
"Ran my fingers down your chin," he continued singing, "You closed your eyes and wanted in. I felt your face, and closed my eyes, my lips then traced down to that rise, ooh my ecstasyyyy."
The naughty smile on Michael's face, and his suggestive movements as he made dinner set fire to my blood, and was causing some unauthorized activity at the front of my towel. I reached down and adjusted myself to ease my discomfort.
Michael wiped his hands on a towel, and reduced the volume on the cd player to answer his ringing cell phone.
"Luigi's Pasta," he said in an extremely exaggerated Italian accent.
Silence. Followed by a blinding smile.
"I know asshole, but it sounded better than Novotny's."
Brian.
The friendly banter continued for a few minutes, something about me loving his cooking and not once having gotten food poisoning, and then the conversation took its usual turn.
"No fucking way. It's Monday night! I'm not going to Babylon."
*Agitated stirring as he attacked the pasta, the smile slipping from his face at whatever Brian was saying*
"Fine! Woody's. But only if Ben wants to go."
I didn't.
"Fuck you Brian." The flame under the pasta was checked, and reduced.
A few more seconds of silence elapsed as Brian worked his magic, and then the smile re-appeared.
"Whatever asshole" Michael grinned "Woody's, NOT Babylon and I'm not making any promises. Byyyyye Brian."
I stepped back into the shadows and silently padded to the bedroom, waiting for Michael to come and try to convince me to go to Woody's. I sat on the bed for a few seconds and when he didn't appear I decided to get dressed. Yanking open an underwear drawer, I blindly stuck my hand in, and rummaged around for a pair. Should I go with silk or cotton? Or should I model my new ones? I still hadn't worn the black boxer briefs I bought last week. My thoughts came to an abrupt halt when something cold hit my thumb; three fingers later its cylindrical shape was revealed. I closed my fingers around it, and pulled it into view, denying with everything in me that I could be so careless.
I was wrong.
I stood stock-still staring at the syringe like I'd never seen it before. What was wrong with me? Had my judgment become that impaired? Michael did laundry all the time! What if he had seen it? A blast of dance music from the kitchen pierced the serenity of the room, and I almost leaped out of my skin. My heart trying to beat a path out of my chest when Michael's singing drifted to me...from afar. My relief was so profound that I slammed the drawer shut...right before my knees gave out, and I sank onto the bed.
I lay there for what seemed like an eternity, but must have only been a few minutes. I finally rolled onto my stomach, not caring that my damp towel was ruining the sheets, and ended up face to face with Michael's new full-length mirror. My eyes sought the blue ones of my reflection, and I was promptly scolded.
What the hell is wrong with you? Is this what you've become? Lying? Hiding? Is this the kind of man worthy of Michael's love?'
I was so drawn to the pain in those eyes that I couldn't look away.
Accept the truth. You need help. And you dislike Brian because he's an arrogant asshole...and he's right.'
I needed to tell Michael. Lies of omission were still lies. He deserved the truth. Michael would understand; I knew he would.
"Ben...dinner!' Michael called to me from the kitchen.
I made up my mind. I would tell him tonight.
But first, I needed to have him completely focused on me; there was no room for Brian in his thoughts. And I knew just the thing to take his mind off Babylon, and it's king.
"Benjamin Bruckner!" Michael was in the doorway before I could move. He was trying to look annoyed, but was failing miserably. I don't think the sight of me, damp and sprawled across the bed in a towel, was helping either.
"Are you coming?" he blushed, eyeing me from head to toe.
"Not yet," I flirted, reaching into the top drawer for my secret weapon. "but I think we can remedy that."
"Oh no mister, I've been slaving over a hot stove for two hours. We're eating dinner." That said, he turned to leave.
I was off the bed in a flash, grabbing him before he could make another step.
"What are you doing?" Michael asked as I tied the silk sash around his wrists.
"Making a citizen's arrest," I said seriously.
"What? Ben, quit playing around and come eat."
"Ok," I conceded, and bent to lick his ear. I felt him tremble in my arms.
"What's the charge?" Michael squeaked, his voice breaking under my nimble attentions.
"I saw you waving your ass around in there, trying to entice me. Don't think I didn't notice your cute little gym shorts...that's indecent exposure if I ever saw it.
"You can't do this to me." Michael grinned, "I have rights."
"Yeah," I whispered seductively, "You have the right to remain luscious. Anything you say will be used to pull you against me, and guarantees to leave us both begging for more."
"Yeah r--" Michael's words caught in his throat as I pulled him back onto my raging hard on. A whimper escaped his lips as he wiggled back onto it, pressing himself further into my chest.
"Just had to do things the hard way, didn't you?" I smirked.
I flipped him around in my arms and kissed him. It was a kiss filled with need, and wrought with pure lust. We finally broke away when the need for air could no longer be ignored. I looked down into the eyes of the man I loved and the need for him just overwhelmed me. His eyes were so dark with arousal they were almost black. His skin was slightly flushed and a smile played on his slightly bruised lips. The rush of possessiveness I felt was almost frightening. Michael was mine, and I'd be damned if I was going to lose him, even if it was to my fears. Michael leaned into my chest, and tugged on my towel with his bound wrists.
"What about dinner?" he asked breathlessly.
"You're a big boy now, Michael. You get to have dessert first."
"I've always wanted to do that," Michael moaned as I tongued the space between his neck and shoulder.
The towel fluttered to the floor and feel in a pool around my ankles.
"Well that's why I'm here Michael. To make all your dreams come true."
Michael giggled softly as I picked him up.
"What?" I smiled.
He just blushed and shook his head, but I could hear it, the words floating from the cd player.
I kissed your neck, kissed your chest
Held you close, and stole your breath
Licked my lips, and tasted you...you taste so sweet, now what to do?
Time to feel you deep inside...it happened standing, was such a ride
This dream so real...to my surprise
So sweet I feel between my thighs
Ooh my ecstasy, you are my ecstasy, you are my dreams to be.
In the kitchen, a ringing phone went unanswered.
Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart.
I awoke to the sound of running water. Michael was doing the dishes. A quick glance at the clock told me I'd been asleep for almost two hours. It was the most sleep I'd gotten in two days. Even though I'd read that insomnia was one of the side effects of taking steroids, somehow I thought that it wouldn't affect me. I couldn't help but laugh as I realized that feelings of invincibility were side effects as well.
I sank further into the blankets, enjoying the sounds of domesticity; the sounds of our home, mine and Michael's...and Emmett's...I conceded, smiling to myself. But the domesticity was mine and Michael's, our lives, our daily routines. I couldn't risk destroying that because of my inability to deal with my mortality. I rolled over to Michael's side and buried my face in his pillow, inhaling the essence that was solely his. My head filled with visions of our lovemaking. Michael's moans were vivid in my mind.
The way he said my name in the throes of ecstasy was giving me goose bumps even now. Michael made me feel like I was the only man he'd ever loved, would ever love, so completely.
He would turn beet red if I ever told him the things about him, and his lovemaking, that I treasured. The way he made that sound that started in the back of his throat and ended as a moan when I kissed him, the way he worshipped every inch of my body, and had the ability to be rough and caring at the same time. And when his eyes glazed and intensified in color, wordlessly letting me know he was ready for me, it was better than any leg thrown over my shoulder, or urgently whispered request. I liked vocal sex as much as the next person my lover fiercely whispering, or screaming what he wanted me to do to him, and where, and how fast but with Michael I didn't need that. He had the most expressive eyes of anyone I'd ever known.
They say that eyes are the windows of the soul, and when I looked into Michael's, I saw the vibrance, love and compassion contained within him. By gaining access into Michael's soul, mine was exposed, and I felt my own love for him magnify and threaten to overwhelm me. Like a two-way mirror, Michael's eyes allowed me to explore my own feelings. And for those rare moments of self-pity when I felt that Michael deserved more someone who could give him forever I looked into those eyes and the awe shining there made me feel ten feet tall. In those moments I knew it. I AM worthy of his love...as he is of mine.
Deciding that it was finally time to trust in the man that I loved, and in what we shared, I rolled to my feet and strode purposefully toward the drawer.
Honey you are the sea
Upon which I float
And I came here to talk
I hope you understand
When I entered the kitchen Michael was cleaning the stovetop. Head bent in concentration, he was furiously scrubbing the metal. He looked so much like Debbie when he cleaned; I would never tell him that of course. Besides, Debbie didn't look so damned sexy. I resisted the urge to run up behind him and rip the sponge, and his clothes, from him. Instead I pulled a chair out from the table, and sat down.
"Hey, baby" he turned to smile at me. The smile slipped from his face as he took in my grave expression.
"What's wrong?" He was immediately at my side.
"Ben...don't you feel well?"
The last thing I wanted to do was upset him; there would be time enough for that later. I reached out and gently took his forearm.
"I feel fine, baby. We just need to...Michael, we need to talk."
Michael smiled bravely at me, but he was making a conscious effort not to panic. I could see the hysteria mounting in his eyes as he tried to figure out what he'd done.
I hadn't even said anything yet and he was already imagining the worst. It was time to move this along. Lifting my right hand into view, I placed the syringe on the table halfway between Michael and myself. He pulled out the chair next to me, and slowly lowered himself into it.
"Ben, wha...?"
"I've been using anabolic steroids for the last three weeks."
I rushed it all out in one breath before I lost my nerve. My pulse raced as I waited for his reaction. Michael was a kind man, but he was still only human; I steeled myself for the disappointment.
I was prepared to deal with whatever he meted out.
I just needed him to say something.
Anything! The silence was deafening!
Finally, he spoke. "I guess I should have paid more attention in science class...anabolic?"
"Muscle building," I replied. He was obviously giving the 'steroid' part of it time to marinate.
"Muscle building," Michael reverently repeated, and then lapsed into another silence.
He still hadn't looked up at me. His gaze was firmly fixed on the syringe and he seemed to be in some sort of daze.
I started to panic. Just as I was about to reach over and shake him, Michael looked up and stopped me with those intense brown eyes, and one word.
"Paul."
I froze, unable to move and unable to break his gaze, as Michael's eyes searched mine for confirmation of his statement. The scrutiny was unnerving. Usually I reveled in the attention, but like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, I wanted to be anywhere but in the spotlight of his gaze. As it turned out I was out of luck. Michael had effortlessly penetrated right through to my deepest fears and laid them bare.
For the sake of my own sanity I forced myself to look away, and slowly but surely, my breathing returned to normal.
"Ben," Michael whispered, his voice breaking.
I dared not look at him again. I could deal with anger and disappointment but not pity. I heard his chair scrape against the tile as he stood up, and then he was standing in front of me. By the time I decided to brave it and look up at him, his head had already begun its descent, and before I could collect my wits his lips were on mine.
I was stunned. His lips moved on mine in an urgent gesture of reassurance and support. It was Michael telling me that he was there for me and that we would get through this together and silently scolding me for not trusting him in the first place. My heart swelled with gratitude and love. Somehow during the kiss Michael had ended up on my lap and when he broke the kiss and stroked my cheek, I saw, in his eyes everything except what I'd feared the most. There was no pity, or anger or even disappointment. Michael's eyes shone with an overwhelming amount of love, and understanding...overshadowed by concern.
Michael sat with his back against the table so we could face each other, and gently stroked my chest.
"What happened?"
It was obvious he wanted the details, and now that I had been 'comforted' I realized that I was ready to give them."
"Have you been sick? I mean, did something happen...besides Paul...well...you know?'
"Dying? No."
"So why? I mean..." Michael turned and leaned back into my arms, his chin against my shoulder. "You're healthy, you eat well, you work out. Why do you think you need to do this?"
I wanted to answer, but how? How did you explain to someone who had his whole life ahead of him that you were fucking petrified of dying and leaving him? That you felt that no matter what you did, or how well you took care of yourself, someday this thing inside you could decide that your time was up and start eating you alive? The steroids tipped the scales in my favor. At least if I could get my body to a point where it was so strong, and so resistant that I could fight back, maybe I could stand a chance.
As it turned out, I didn't need to say a word.
"We're all going to die Ben. I could walk out of here tomorrow, and get hit by a car. Does that mean I'll never go out? Or walk around with a helmet and body pads all the time? All we can do is take care of ourselves, and try to enjoy life Ben. The rest is out of our hands."
When did he get so wise? I nodded my agreement because I didn't trust my voice.
"You know," Michael snuggled lower into my arms. "a wise man once advised me to 'live in the now'.
I felt his smile against my chest and even though he couldn't see it, I smiled back.
"You're not Paul, Ben. Paul didn't 'enjoy each day'. You yourself said that he gave up once he was diagnosed. If he had chosen to live, he would probably be alive today. You chose life, Ben, and I'll be damned if you're going to taint it and corrupt it...WITH STEROIDS!" His voice went up a few octaves.
As if just realizing the magnitude of what I'd done, Michael leapt off my lap and grabbed the syringe. I suppressed a smile. This was so like him, loving and caring one minute, and ready to slap me the next. The Novotnys. They were quite a family.
His face was a mask of disbelief and barely concealed horror.
"I mean, WHAT were you thinking taking this stuff? Do you KNOW how dangerous this stuff is? Where did you even get this?"
"A guy at the gym, and it's not that..."
"Not that what?" He cut me off, raising his eyebrows, and daring me to finish my statement. "This thing probably has a million side effects!"
"They're not that many."
"Really?"
Michael leaned on the back of the chair, and glared at me, syringe hanging from one hand.
"Well, in that case, you won't mind educating me on them...Professor."
I cleared my throat and tried to buy some time. "Well, I don't really recall."
"You recall. Start talking."
Shit! "Umm ok, well there's insomnia."
"Which is why you've 'had papers to grade' every night for the last two weeks."
"Yeah." I clamped my lips together, and looked away. He was making me nervous. "Umm, severe acne and jaundice."
"Woooh" Michael exclaimed "Nothing like huge yellow zits to put your lover in the mood. Lovely. What else?"
"Shrunken testicles and kidney tumors." I braced myself for the onslaught.
Nothing.
Nothing but a very pissed off Michael who looked like he could chew glass. I swear if I weren't as big as I was he would have taken a swing at me. I looked around for an escape; the microwave flashed the time in huge green numbers.
"Michael, it's late. We can talk about this tomorrow." I started to rise from the chair, smiling lovingly at him, and hoping I could make it to the door.
"Sit." Michael didn't even raise his voice. "This conversation is three weeks overdue. We're talking NOW."
"So let's see. Where were we? Right. You're a yellow, zit covered insomniac with huge kidneys and testicles the size of peanuts. Did I leave anything out?"
I knew his anger was out of concern for me, but still it was disconcerting, not only because I'd never seen him like this but because this 'take charge' attitude of his was a definite turn on. I blinked to clear my thoughts. Was I insane? I has to be thinking about sex at a time like this? It seemed to be all I thought about lately. I didn't recall reading about that side effect; leave it to me to miss the good stuff. I came back to my senses to find Michael still glaring at me. I had to calm him down.
"No, you didn't leave anything out. Look Michael, I'm sor--"
My apology went unheard or at the very least, ignored.
"I know there's more, Ben. I've heard guys talking at the gym."
"Michael--"
"Just tell me!"
I stared at him in shock. After he'd gotten over his outburst he walked over to me and held my hand in his.
"Please, Ben. I just need to know what we're up against."
"Well, there's a chance I could lose my hair...anddevelopbreasts"
Michael blinked and leaned in closer.
"Come again. I don't think I caught that last part."
Sighing, I focused on the wall to my right. "I could develop breasts."
We were both silent for a minute as that last bit of info was digested. Reading it was one thing, but saying it out loud brought it sharply into focus. I must have been out of my mind when I decided to do this. Realizing that Michael still hadn't said anything I glanced over at him to find him almost beside himself with laughter.
His eyes were squeezed shut and slightly wet at the corners, and he was covering his mouth with one hand in a futile attempt to stifle his laughter. He was trying so hard not to laugh that his face was turning bright red from the effort, and the color was quickly spreading to his neck.
"Michael" I warned "don't you dare..."
It was useless. My acknowledging his efforts broke his concentration, and Michael dropped his hand to unleash roaring laughter. He held his sides and doubled over in a seeming painful fit, as a spasm racked his body.
Michael slapped his thigh and gasped over and over "Breasts...you...with breasts."
He would wipe his eyes and, just when I thought he was done, he would look over at my chest and start laughing again.
Brat! His giggling was so infectious that I couldn't resist the smile tugging at my lips. Before long, I was laughing too. It really was very ridiculous. When I factored in the baldness, I laughed even harder.
"Ben," Michael wheezed, "the insomnia I can deal with. Even the baby testicles wouldn't be a problem after I got used to it, but...there...is no way...I'm washing your delicates."
I was laughing so hard my stomach started cramping. "Ow, ow, stop, be quiet."
"Okay boobilicious." Michael was cracking himself up.
I was ecstatic to see him laughing even if it was at my expense. When his peals of laughter finally quieted to sporadic giggling, Michael fell into my arms with a dramatic swoop.
"Oh gawd, imagine you and my mother discussing bra sizes."
"Stop" I smiled, trying to catch my breath.
We sat like that for a while, just holding each other, and basking in the luminosity of our love. I didn't know what I'd done in my past life to deserve Michael but I thanked God every day for it.
Michael tensed in my arms and I knew the mood was about to change.
"Ben, I'm sorry."
Here it came. I just knew he would find a way to blame himself.
"Michael, you didn't do anything."
"Exactly! I'm your lover, Ben. I should have noticed something was wrong. I'm so busy worrying about Brian and his issues that I haven't been here for you. I should have paid more attention after Paul died. I knew that he was...maybe I could have..."
"Michael. Michael!" I sat up, and held his arms, turning him to me. "Stop it. It's not your fault. It's something I had to deal with on my own."
"But..."
"But nothing, Michael. Promise me you won't blame yourself."
He sat staring straight-ahead, refusing to give in.
"Promise," I said quietly.
"I promise," Michael answered. "But from now I'll be here for you. We'll get through this together."
Michael leaned forward and caught my face in both hands. "I love you Ben. I can't lose you."
I acted on all the emotions swirling within me and pulled him gently to me, capturing his lips in a kiss. I poured everything I felt into it, and felt my heart soar when Michael moaned into my open mouth and practically melted in my arms. When it finally ended, Michael pulled back, a lazy smile on his lips, and shuttered eyes. I held my breath and waited. With a soft sigh, he slowly slid his eyes open and it was the first time all over again. The first time I looked into Michael's eyes after I kissed him I almost forgot how to breathe, and even after all this time it never failed to take my breath away.
"So, sexy, what are your plans for the rest of the night?" Michael winked.
Was that a trick question?
"Well then." He laughed, obviously amused by my expression
"What's say I run you a nice bath? It'll help you sleep...after I wear you out." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
"Sounds good to me." I pinched his ass as he climbed off of me and headed to the bathroom.
The syringe lay on the table where Michael had dropped it during a particularly animated fit of laughter. I picked it up, looked it over, and threw it in the trash.
Turning the light off, I headed for the tub. Couldn't keep my little stud in suds waiting.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched Ben finally drift off to sleep; it had only taken this side of forever. Nothing had worn him out, not the warm bath , or the numerous orgasms, or heaven forbid, my mother's age-old remedy of a hot cup of chamomile tea. Finally, I just had to lie there and talk to him until the monotonous droning of my voice lulled him to sleep. I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed that he hadn't been sleeping. I sighed as I smoothed his hair. Why lie to myself? I'd noticed, but I hadn't thought twice about it. I'd been too busy trying to make sure Brian didn't self- destruct.
I leaned over and kissed Ben's eyelids, one at a time. I never thought that I could love anyone but Brian with the intensity that I loved Ben. In so many ways, he was my first love. Oh, Brian was the first person I'd fallen in love with, and I'd loved David, but those relationships were dysfunctional in their own ways; hell, there was nothing normal about my relationship with Brian. This relationship with Ben was the first time I had felt...equal, that my opinion and my contributions mattered. He had taught me so many things about life, and about myself, that I was indebted to him in more ways than I could count. Yet he always made me feel like he was the lucky one.
I smiled down at him as I rubbed my hand along his arm, and traced his features with my eyes. Damn, he was hot, and with his features relaxed in sleep he looked totally at peace.
Peace that was interrupted when the phone near my head burst into song. I scrambled to answer it before it woke Ben. I didn't need a ouija board to figure out who was trying to make contact.
"What?" I hissed into the receiver, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Where the fuck are you? And why the hell are you whispering?
The background music coming through the phone was so loud that with my luck it would wake Ben.
"Hang up," I whispered. "I'll call you back." I wasn't sure he heard me but I was sure he'd figure it out.
I gently returned the phone to its cradle, and with one last glance at Ben, tiptoed out of the room.
I breathed easier once the door was closed, and yanking the kitchen phone off the wall I called Brian back.
"You said you'd be at Woody's," Brian bitched over the chaos that was Babylon.
"I didn't promise, and anyway I couldn't come."
"What?" Brian yelled over the music. "Fuck, Mikey. Will you speak up? I can't hear a word you're saying."
I spoke a little louder. "I couldn't come!"
"Fine. That means you have to come to Babylon. How soon can you get here?"
"I can't. Ben...we're staying in tonight."
Somehow Brian had managed to move to a quieter part of Babylon. I didn't even want to think about where that could be.
"Again?"
"Ben's going through some stuff right now. I need to be here."
Why was I even explaining myself to him?
"Gawd, Mikey, where is the professor anyway?"
"He's asleep," I answered, leaning back on the counter, a little more relaxed now that I didn't have to try to yell and whisper at the same time.
"Good, he'll never miss you. I'll be on the look out for you."
"No!" I shouted, before he hung up. "Ben might wake up. He's been having trouble sleeping."
"So what?" Brian was clearly irritated now. "Leave a shot of bourbon in a glass of milk near the bed. You're not his fucking mommy."
"Brian, I'm not coming and that's that!"
Why didn't he ever take me seriously?
"Brian..."
"Fuck Mikey!" Brian yelled, "Stop being so goddamn stubborn! Ben's not a fucking baby!"
"Well neither are you!!" I was so angry I was shaking.
The shocked silence that followed led me to believe I'd pissed him off.
The droning hum of the dial tone confirmed it.
I stood staring at the phone, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Brian had actually hung up on me; he never did that. Usually I got the 'Byyyeee Mikey' which meant "You're my best friend and I love you, but I really don't want to deal with you right now." The sound of coughing nudged me out of my daze. Brian's little temper tantrum was the least of my problems; I had bigger concerns right here at home. I started to walk away before I realized that not only I was still holding the phone, but I hadn't noticed the repeated screeching of the recording telling me to 'please hang up and try my call again.' I had to get it together.
Replacing the receiver, I got a glass of water and went to check on Ben. He was still asleep, but it was anything but restful. He had stopped coughing, but was tossing and turning like he was having some kind of nightmare. Shit! Was this a side effect of the steroids? I didn't know whether to wake him or wait for it to pass; if I woke him I would never be able to get him back to sleep. I inched closer to the bed, my hand hovering over his shoulder. Fear and uncertainty co-mingled in my veins and successfully glued my feet to the floor. I had to do something; I couldn't just fucking stand here. I felt like my brain had shut down, and since my thought processes had failed me, I went on instinct. I used the one thing I possessed that I knew always comforted others - touch. Climbing carefully over Ben I settled onto the bed and turned to face him. Before I could do anything, Ben reached out for me in his sleep and pulled me to him. I snuggled against his chest, reached around his waist, and slid my hand up and down his back. Gently running my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, I whispered soothingly to him until I saw his breathing regulate and his face relax. Then I kissed his forehead and pulled the blanket up over the both of us. I didn't know how many times this had happened in the last three weeks - Ben reaching out for me and me not being there, but I blinked back my tears and thanked God that this time I was.
If you think you're lonely now Wait until tonight.
"Not interested" I barked for what seemed like the fiftieth time. The trick shrugged his shoulders, letting me know it was my loss, and walked away.
Fucking Mikey! I've always taught him to stand up for himself, but that did not apply to me. I can't believe he really blew me off to play the perfect little housewife to Ben. I couldn't even think his name without feeling the bile rise to my throat. 'Ben might wake up.' I mimicked Michael's voice in my head. So the fuck what? He was the one taking the fucking steroids. Let him deal with it! Still I had to admire him for telling Michael. This was the second time my tactic had backfired. Michael's boyfriends always came clean when their backs were against the wall. So much for proving that they were all liars, or cheaters in David's case.
I raised my arm to light a cigarette and a lancing pain in my shoulder stopped my breath for a second. Bad idea. I tried a different approach, lowering my head, and practically doubling over...holding my breath the whole time...until I finally got the damn thing lit. I suppressed a grimace as I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror behind the bar. I looked like a fucking invalid. I couldn't even lift my fucking arm. Staying home to take care of Ben. Ha! He needed to be here taking care of me! Did he even realize the stuff I went through with these boyfriends of his? David punching me at his birthday party, Ben using me as a locker dust rag. It was pathetic.
"Hey stud, wanna dance?"
I looked up and gave the guy the once over. Nice, but I wasn't in the mood.
"Yes," I smiled, "but not with you."
Pushing away from the bar, I fought my way through the crowd, ignoring the 'Asshole!' that floated after me.
This was ridiculous. What was the world coming to when I couldn't even enjoy the look of crushing dejection on a hot trick's face?
Fucking Mikey!
I finally made it to the middle of the dance floor and almost cried in frustration when the DJ chose that precise moment to spin "Dancing Queen." It just wasn't the same without Michael screaming his excitement and dragging me out to this exact spot, supposedly forcing me to dance, when the truth was that all I wanted to do was wrap him in my arms and be a part of the excitement radiating from him, and twinkling in his eyes.
The space in front of me went dark for a minute as someone came to stand in front of me. Dark brown eyes, jet black hair. He was a little bigger than Mikey but not so much that I couldn't pretend. I looked down at him and smiled the smile of a hunter who'd just caught prize game. Mikey was in bed with the professor. Why should I go home empty handed?
I leaned down and gently bit his earlobe. "Let's get out of here."
Two and a half hours later Ben was still asleep and I was still staring at the ceiling. My body was dead tired, my muscles screaming out for relief but my brain wouldn't sign off. Steroids? Ben? He was one of the most 'together' people I knew. But then again who was I to judge him? I wasn't HIV positive, I wasn't the one who'd lost someone I'd shared my life with to AIDS. I couldn't even begin to understand what he was going through. All I could do was be here for him. But be here in what capacity? I totally freaked earlier when he was 'nightmaring'. I didn't know what I should do because, it dawned on me, I didn't know anything about steroids. I'd heard the usual gossip at the gym, I mean God forbid a gay man's 'boys'..his prized possessions...shrink into nothingness, but like I told Ben, steroids had many side effects and he'd only told me about five. Knowing him, he'd probably left out the worst of them. I didn't know if his HIV status increased the risk of something bad happening. Did the steroids clash with his meds? The more I allowed my imagination to run rampant, the more panicked I became. Taking deep slow breaths, I willed myself to calm down. If something happened to Ben I had to be able to think on my feet, and to do that I needed to know what we were up against. Sliding out from under Ben's arms, I got to the edge of the bed and froze as Ben turned and mumbled something incoherent before settling back into sleep. I placed my pillow up against him in case he reached for me before I got back. I doubt my body felt like 100% down feathers but it was better than nothing. Tiptoeing over to the corner of the room, I lifted his laptop out the case. The internet was good for more than just finding porn websites, and I intended to make use of it.
I sipped a diet coke while I waited for the computer to connect to the internet. "Welcome" the animated voice shouted, and I almost dropped the can trying to find the volume and look over at the bedroom door at the same time. Why did Ben keep this shit so loud anyway? Ok, where to start? The easiest way had to be to just type 'steroids' in the AOL search bar. I did that, taking longer than I'm sure Ben would have; I never did finish my Mavis Beacon CD. I hit enter and barely had time to blink before the results came into view on the monitor. Over 10,000 sites?! Shit! How many people were using these damn things? Clicking on the third link I waited for the page to load. 'Steroids (Anabolic-Androgenic)' headed the first paragraph in huge bold letters. With my eyes still glued to the screen, I brought the soda can to my lips as I continued to scroll down. Anabolic muscle building, androgenic increased masculine characteristics. Well at least I knew the first part.
Steroid abuse was quite frequent among sports players. No shit I smirked to myself as I read on. Kids used them as early as thirteen to give them the much-needed edge in the competitive high school sports world. Very interesting stuff but I couldn't allow myself to get side-tracked. The next paragraph turned my blood cold as it hit closer to home. I leaned forward in the chair mouthing the words as I read quietly to myself, "They are also used to treat body wasting in patients with AIDS and other diseases that result in loss of lean muscle mass. Abuse of anabolic steroids, however, can lead to serious health problems, some irreversible." Irreversible health problems. An image of a small, emaciated Ben flashed in my mind, and I had to close my eyes and fight the urge to bolt..to run as far and fast away as I could. Damn my overactive mind. This was Ben, and HIV was not a death sentence. My eyes were drawn to the next bold heading "health hazards." I gathered my courage and read on.
The major side effects jumped off the screen at me. Liver tumors and cancer, jaundice (which Ben had mentioned), fluid retention, high blood pressure and increase in bad cholesterol. Gripping the mouse in frustration I spoke softly to myself "I'm not going to get upset, I'M NOT GOING TO GET UPSET'. I felt tears pricking the back of my eyes, and gave up my chant, giving into my anger. CANCER?! When the hell was he going to tell me about that? Wasn't it a little hard to deal with HIV and fucking chemo at the same time? Bolting up from the chair, I went over to the refrigerator and leaned my head on the metal. Maybe the cooling sensation would calm the anger and betrayal raging within me. Why couldn't he just have talked to me? He preferred to put his life in fucking danger than trust that I could comfort him? I stayed there, squeezing my eyes shut, and trying to ignore the blood rushing to my brain. I don't know how long I was there but a beep from the laptop reminded me of my purpose. I pivoted my head, still leaning against the refrigerator, and turned to stare at the monitor. I wasn't sure I wanted to read any further, but I loved Ben and even if he didn't believe that I could handle this, I had to prove to myself that I could. I walked over and yanked the chair out, hitting the page down key with a vengeance, until something else of interest caught my eye.
The list was interesting to say the least - shrinking of the testicles, reduced sperm count, infertility, baldness, increased risk for prostate cancer; and development of breasts. The breast info wasn't nearly as funny this time around, probably because it was housed in the same sentence as prostate cancer and infertility. It's true that Ben couldn't have kids anyway, but for some reason the information still bothered me. Users who injected (which Ben did) also ran the risk of contracting HIV...how ironic...and hepatitis which caused 'serious damage to the liver'. By the time I got to the psychiatric and emotional side effects I was ready to throw in the towel aggression, paranoid jealousy, extreme irritability, delusions, and impaired judgment stemming from feelings of invincibility. Oh, his judgment was impaired all right.
I re-read the paragraph. I hadn't noticed any paranoid jealousy. Delusions? I crossed that off in my mind as well. I think I would have noticed Ben screaming that giant spiders were crawling all over him. Aggression? Irritability? I backtracked in my mind to that day last week when Ben had yelled at me for moving his razor. He didn't so much yell as scold...harshly, but I was shocked all the same. But that was only one time. Maybe he'd just been having a bad morning; Paul had just died after all. I stared at the screen. This shit was making me paranoid. It was like reading a medical journal and coming away thinking you had 10 days to live because you had 899 of the 900 diseases listed. I pushed the notebook away from me, leaned back in the chair, and tried to regain control of my emotions. How could Ben do this to himself? To us? I know I said that we'd deal with this together but I was still ignorant of so many things. How easy would it be to stop using the steroids? I hadn't read about them being addictive but would he really stop? What if some of the side effects were delayed and I was thinking all was well when they just hadn't shown up yet? My mind swam with a million questions and tragic scenarios. I had started off thinking that knowledge would have given me some kind of power, some direction, but the more I read the more I felt like I was being pulled under water, the surface seeming farther and farther away with every paragraph. To put it simply I felt like I was drowning in a sea of hopelessness.
And Ben! What the fuck was he thinking? Who the hell did he think was going to have to deal with all this shit? Who was going to be the one holding his hand while his fucking liver malfunctioned? I'd literally felt like I was dying inside when he ended up in the hospital the last time. He would risk that again? He was healthy! Did he really need to increase his muscle mass NOW? I could practically hear Brian's voice in my head 'Yeah right, Ben needs more muscles like I need another cock'.
The silence of an apartment at 2 in the morning was perfectly conducive to introspection, and it didn't take long for my circuitous thinking to finally make sense. The revelation was so heart wrenching that I couldn't shirk the shame that engulfed me. This wasn't about me. It was about Ben! And it wasn't about him not caring about dying, but fighting for life! Hadn't he said as much earlier?? Ben was an educated, rational man, and the fact that he'd done this...taken this chance with his life...was a clear indication of how terrified he'd been after Paul died, how helpless, and desperate for reassurance of his own well-being. I couldn't even fathom it...what it must have been like for him to hear that Paul died of something that he lived with every day. My eyes blurred with tears at the sheer loneliness that he must have felt while I cavorted my nights away at Babylon. I had the nerve to ask what he was thinking doing this? What the fuck was I thinking that I didn't anticipate his need for comfort? His ex-lover died! Shame gripped my insides like iron. Even though he took great care of himself, Ben almost died a few months ago. Here I was worrying about what it was like for me, but what about him?? He just wanted to use everything at his disposal to make sure it didn't happen again. But steroids? I stared at the screen again, barely able to see the words through my tears. Not that I needed to; the words were ingrained in my mind - cancer, liver tumors, hepatitis. Inwardly, I screamed at the injustice. Even in an attempt to control something that could kill him the side effects of this could damage him irreparably. I knew I was being morbid but it was all so unfair. Ben seemed so fucking doomed. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. And even though I hated sounding selfish, where did that leave me? How would I deal with all of this? I couldn't lose Ben. I just...
I leaned forward propping my chin on my hands, and tried to blink back the tears. I had no right to go off the deep end. I had to be strong. Ben was the one who had to live with all of this. All I had to do was live with him.
Except it didn't feel that way because when it came to the people I love it never did. The feelings of frustration and helplessness that Ben must feel even now, my own fears of what his steroid use could mean, and the injustice of the whole situation, swelled and mounted in me until they finally rose past my defenses and I lost the battle with my tears. Sobs racked my body and I bit down on my fist to quiet them so I wouldn't wake Ben. This was all so frightening, so very fucking adult. I wasn't fourteen anymore. I wasn't some clueless teenager with a 'boyfriend.' Ben was my partner and we shared a life, a commitment. I would be there for him, no matter what happened. I would be strong for him, I decided, as I wiped my eyes and squeezed them shut, trying to stem the tears. But who would be there for me? Who would I talk to when I couldn't talk to Ben? When I was scared or tired of it all and just needed words of reassurance? Just as Ben felt lonely in his need for comfort and understanding, I was sure there would be times when I would need my own comforting like right now.
My cell phone beeped where it lay on the counter and I got up and walked over. The screen reported five missed calls. I didn't need to check to know who they were from, but I couldn't call him. I wasn't ready to discuss this with anyone yet, even Brian. Turning my cell phone off, I walked back to the notebook and powered off, the tears still flowing down my cheeks. Every so often I wiped my face with the palm of hands, praying that Ben wouldn't wake up. I wasn't together enough to go back to bed, not that I could sleep now anyway. When I did finally fall asleep it would be a long one; I wasn't so much tired as I was weary. I felt like I'd aged twenty years tonight. With the chords all secured and everything in its rightful place I leaned on the counter and stared at the phone in the kitchen. Finally, deciding that it would be harmless because my tears were finally at bay, I blew my nose on a nearby napkin and then speed dialed the one person I knew would always be there for me no matter what.
Brian answered after three rings.
"Well, well if it isn't the little missus. I assume you called to beg for my forgiveness, so go ahead and make it good."
I didn't know what it was about his voice, whether it comforted me, whether the familiarity of it reminded me of all the times he'd protected me when we were younger or whether it was the effortless way he could take control of a situation while I sat here fucking clueless as to how to handle what lay ahead. All I know is that as soon as I heard his voice the tears sprang afresh.
"Well" Brian said, "Time's a wasting. It's two a.m. Even I need my beauty sleep."
I held the phone slightly away from me, and pressed my lips together which only resulted in me making a funny, choking sound.
"Mikey?"
"Mikey?" Brian continued, his voice low and dangerous and so strained I almost didn't hear him. "Are you crying?"
"No." Michael choked, his voice full of tears. It would have been comical if anger wasn't rising in my intestines. How did the sound of him crying get me to this place so fast?
The duvet fell to the floor as I bolted off the bed. I snapped my fingers at the trick who was looking for his jacket, and jerked my thumb in the direction of the door.
"I can't find my..." he started to say.
My feet bumped against leather and I picked his jacket up, with my left hand, and threw it at him so fast he barely had time to raise his arms before it slammed into his chest.
"What happened?" I said quietly into my cell phone, still glaring at the trick who was moving entirely too slowly.
"Nothing. I'm--I'm watching a movie." Goddamn it.
"Mikey, you're a horrible liar. You can either tell me now or you can tell me when I get there in five minutes."
Images of a bloody, bruised Michael flashed in my mind and fear filled me. Fear of what I would find when I got over there and fear of what I would do to Ben when I did.
I could hear Michael blowing his nose as I grabbed the trick by his jacket, and ushered ...more like dragged...him to the door. He was babbling something about a wallet.
Michael sniffed. "You have company..I shouldn't have called."
"Don't you dare hang up. That's the television."
"I'll mail it to you," I mouthed, my eyes boring into the trick's. "Now get the fuck out!"
He didn't seem to have any problem understanding that last bit of lip reading.
I quietly slid the loft door shut and caught sight of a wallet on the floor. Sliding the door back open I cleared my throat and threw it. Cheapest postage I ever paid.
Michael still wasn't saying anything and I could hear his tears subsiding.
"Dammit Michael" I barked, "Tell me what the fuck he did!"
"Who?"
"Your Goliath of a boyfriend that's who." Where the fuck were my pants?
Michael hesitated and I think my heart stopped for a split second. I sat on the bed, and pinched the bridge of my nose, suddenly aware that my hands were shaking. Taking a steadying breath, I voiced my biggest fear. "Did he hit you?"
"No!"
I think I shocked the tears right out of his voice.
"Why would you think that?" Michael gasped.
Shit. Fuck. Think Kinney. Think.
But it was too late. He knew.
We were both silent and my eyes kept darting down to the phone like I fully expected it to give me some clue as to what Michael was thinking. He clued me in soon enough.
"How long have you known?"
His voice was completely devoid of emotion and sent a shiver of fear down my spine. Maybe I could still avoid his anger by feigning ignorance.
"Known what?"
"Dammit, Brian, don't lie to me. I'm not a fucking kid anymore. Why doesn't anybody ever think I'm strong enough to deal with shit?"
He sounded like was he about to start crying again.
"Mikey, that's not it," I hurried to correct him. "It's just that--"
"How long?" Michael's voice was deathly calm. When he got like this there was no getting around him. He could be as stubborn as the day was long.
I threw myself back on the bed and sighed in defeat. "I'd heard rumors before, but I didn't know for sure until earlier today."
"How come?"
"Mikey--"
"HOW?!"
"I saw him buying them from a guy at the gym."
I don't know what I expected - shock, tears maybe, but not the cold anger that was chilling me to the very core even over the phone line.
"And when the fuck did you plan on telling me?" Michael screamed. "You were more concerned with getting your dick sucked at Babylon than telling me that you saw my boyfriend buying illegal drugs? You really don't give a damn about anybody but yourself do you?"
I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut and, as if on cue, the pain in my shoulder started up again.
"Michael, you don't know shit about it."
"Fuck you, Brian. What? Did I miss the second rule of gay etiquette? Never tell your best friend if you see his boyfriend buying drugs? Well, fuck gay etiquette. I'm your best friend and I deserved the truth!"
When the fuck did all this become about me again? I felt like I was in the fucking twilight zone. It's like I couldn't win. I got manhandled and yelled at while steroid boy was sound asleep. Fuck this. He asked for it.
"You want the truth? The truth is that after I saw your boyfriend taking the drugs, I went to talk to him about it, to warn him about how you would be affected by it, and I got a busted shoulder for my efforts."
"What?"
"Yeah, so don't tell me about what a best friend does."
Michael was so shocked I was surprised he hadn't dropped the phone. I heard him drag a chair over and heard a slight 'oomph' as he dropped into it. Somehow, the satisfaction I thought I would feel throwing that in his face wasn't forthcoming.
"Mikey--"
"What happened? Did Ben--"
"I had a run in with a locker. It's not a big deal."
"And your shoulder?" Michael whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"It's fine," I winced as I tried to move it. "Busted was a bit of an exaggeration. Your boyfriend shoves like a girl."
Michael laughed nervously but I could tell he didn't believe a word of it.
"Aggression...it's a side effect of the steroids...gawd, I thought we'd missed a few." Michael's voice quivered like he was about to start crying again.
"I'm coming over," I said.
"No, I'm fine. It's just been a long night."
"I'm coming over," I insisted. "You can let me in or I can use my key."
"Brian, no. Ben and I talked about this and we're going to work through it. The fact that he shoved you threw me for a bit, but I'm ok now."
"Michael, he's unpredictable and if anything were to happen--"
"Nothing's going to happen. Don't worry, Ben would never hit me."
When did it go from him crying his eyes out to him reassuring me?
"Mikey, you don't know that."
"I do know."
He sounded like he was about to say something else, but I was too afraid it would somehow pertain to the fact that he thought he'd known that about me. I changed the subject...fast.
"Fine." I sighed. "But I'm coming to get you in the morning." My tone brooked no argument. "So if he didn't hit you why were you crying?"
Michael pushed a big breath out through his mouth. In my mind's eye, I could picture him running a hand through that thick, raven hair of his.
"I was just reading up about the side effects of steroid use and feeling sorry for myself."
"They're serious business, Mikey. I did extensive research on them once for a client." I hesitated before I added, "Mikey, you don't have to go through with this. No one would blame you if you ended it now...you know got out while the getting's good."
I neglected to add that some of us would be ecstatic.
I could hear the smile in Michael's voice as he responded. "Brian, it's not that simple. I went into this knowing that it would require a little more work and that sometimes it would even take a lot more. When I went to ask Ben to take me back, he said that he needed to know that the person he was with would always be there for him and by being with him I entered a silent agreement. I can't bail now because the bumps in the road temporarily seem like mountains."
Despite myself, I smiled at Michael's quiet confidence and fierce loyalty. I'd been on the receiving end of that loyalty more times than I could count.
"Besides," Michael continued, "it goes deeper than merely making a promise."
Every hair on my body stood on end as I pushed the question past the lump in my throat. "You love him?"
"So much it hurts."
The sound of my heart breaking into millions of tiny splinters was almost audible. I tried to smile, to inject happiness into my voice. All I could manage was a grimace and a voice that I didn't quite trust. The silence stretched on.
"Brian?"
A few huge gulps of air and I could finally feel the color returning to my face.
"I'm happy for you Mikey. I hope Ben knows how lucky he is."
"Yeah, I think he does but I'll be sure to remind him. With 'Rage' taking off, I'm a hot commodity these days." Michael laughed.
"You always were," I said, before I could stop myself. "Mikey--"
"So how was Babylon?" Mikey said quickly.
Hmm. Diversionary tactic. Wonder where he learned that?
"Babylon was Babylon. Same dicks, different tricks. By the way, thanks for sticking me with Fred and Ethel."
Michael laughed genuinely and the throaty modulations prompted the beginnings of a hard-on.
"Brian, be nice. They're not that bad."
"Yeah, if Ted feeding Emmett every cherry of every drink is considered acceptable in a gay drinking establishment."
"Oh gawd, no." Michael laughed.
Michael's laughter warmed me and I never wanted it to end. I wanted to be the one to always put that smile on his face, that twinkle in his eye.
"Bri," Michael interrupted my reverie, "I better go. I do have to go to work tomorrow."
"Ok." I tried not to sound as dejected as I felt. "Mikey, last chance. If we leave now we could be in New York by daybreak."
There was that laugh again. "Brian, lay off the E, ok?"
I didn't want to tell him I was stone cold sober.
"I'm not leaving, Ben." Michael said stubbornly. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to me.
"Mikey, you know I'm here...if anything..."
"I know."
"I'm serious Mikey. Don't go pulling the hero bullshit. Call me if you need anything."
"Ok."
"If you ever need a shoulder to lean on, come over and I'll get you drunk."
Michael burst out laughing, trying to muffle it with his hand. "Gee thanks, Brian. I always know I can count on you for the important things."
I couldn't suppress my smile, but then I got serious. "You can, you know."
"I know," Michael said. "I love you, Bri."
I think my world stopped. Why did it affect me so profoundly? He said it all the time. My brain screamed my response but I couldn't get the words out. Dammit Brian, just say it. Take the leap. Say the words.
"Me too," I said, disgusted at my own weakness.
"Sweet dreams," Michael said in a sing song voice.
"Please Mikey." I guffawed. "I told you people, I don't do dreams. I prefer to be awake and fucking."
He laughed and wished me goodnight' before hanging up.
I hit the talk button on my phone and stared up at the ceiling, doing battle with my emotions. I preferred to be awake and fucking I laughed bitterly to myself. Maybe if I said that often enough I would actually believe it. The truth was I lived for dreaming. At least when I closed my eyes and drifted off, I was still the most important person in Michael's life. At least in the confines of my mind, it was Michael and me till the end, and at least in my dreams Michael hadn't reached his final destination without me.
Mr. Lonely, look who''s lonely now.