Michael lay in his bed his eyes closed tight against the images bombarding his head likes soldiers in battle. They came at him with the speed and ferocity of stones being thrown at the guilty during biblical times. His crime? Well, his crime was being a fucking coward.
It was for the best. It was all for the best. And maybe if he said it enough times he'd convince himself of it. Maybe if he just lay here long enough and closed his eyes against what he was seeing in his head it would all go away. This feeling of failure. Of having been so utterly frightened out of what he wanted. Of not being what Ben thought he was. Of not being who he thought he was.
"The heart of a super hero." What a fucking joke.
I have the heart of a scared little boy. Who let his mommy and his friends freak him out. No, that's not entirely true. I was freaked out and I didn't listen to myself because I was too fucking busy defending whatever this is, was. I wanted to be okay with it os I convinced myself that I was.
Then I walked into the bathroom and saw all those fucking medicine bottles and I lost it. I don't know why though. I've seen them before, hell I've even administered them when Uncle Vic was too weak to open the bottles himself. So what was the fucking big deal?
The fucking big deal is Vic is family. You don't turn your back on family. Ben's just a guy I met. Just this incredibly sweet, honest, great looking guy with a body built like a brick shit house, who thinks I have the heart of a super hero. Or at least he did.
What I got to do to make you love me?
What I got to do to make you care?
What do I do when lightning strikes me?
And I wake to find that you're not there?
There was a storm brewing in Ben's mind. One that spoke of dark foreboding skies and drenching rain. Disappointment was a hard pill to swallow. He lay in his bed his eyes closed. But all he could see was that look in Michael's eyes. That look of fear, of sadness. And of rejection. The look that told him he'd misjudged the situation and the man. All he could feel was the way Michael's body slumped with defeat as he uttered those fucking loathsome words.
"I can't do this."
Shit. You can't do this. I'm buck ass naked and you can't do this. Could you have said something before my dick was brushing up against your ass?
What the fuck was I thinking?
You know what you were thinking Bruckner...
I was thinking he looked perfect standing in my bathroom. I was thinking about all the ways I could twist and bend that tight little body of his, make him beg, make him scream, tie him up, tie him down, make him come for fucking days and days. That's what I was fucking thinking...
And now I'm thinking I should have gotten the condoms...
No. That would only have postponed the inevitable. We'd have gotten closer, felt more and then to have him walk out would have been more painful. Because the way he looked he would have left eventually.
I mean I saw it in his eyes when I told him I was HIV positive. But he said he could handle it, and I wanted to believe he could.
Fuck...Maybe he could? Maybe he can? But I really can't take that chance. I can't risk myself like that just to see him walk away again. Not knowing that I could really love him.
No. It's time to let it go. I have to let it go.
What I got to do to make you want me?
What I got to do to be heard?
What do I say when it's all over?
Sorry seems to be the hardest word.
I need to find a way to say I'm sorry. I know if he hears me out he'll understand. I know I can convince him to give me another chance.
What the fuck am I thinking?
He opened himself up to me and I closed the door in his face. No slammed the door is more like it. Walked out with him standing there looking so hurt and trying not to. Now I want forgiveness.
But who do I want it for? Him or me. Am I looking for absolution or do I really want him?
Fuck this.
Everyone says I should put it behind me. So I'll put it behind me. I mean Ted and everyone are right, there are so many other guys out there who aren't positive that I could be with.
So why am I obsessing over this guy?
Because that's what you do Mikey. You'll get over it. Like everything.
Yeah...Right...
Michael put it in his mind that he could move past this. That what he felt for Ben was a passing thing. He could find someone else. Ben wanting him in the first place showed that he could still attract men. Even though after David the last thing he'd wanted was another relationship.
So he went about the business of getting on with his life. Of doing the dating thing. Of even having Brian and his friends make up a profile for him on a dating website. But the person they created wasn't him and the men he attracted weren't Ben. So was stuck...
It's sad, so sad
It's a sad, sad situation.
And it's getting more and more absurd.
It's sad, so sad
Why can't we talk it over?
Oh it seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word
What do I do to make you want me?
What I got to do to be heard?
What do I say when it's all over?
Sorry seems to be the hardest word.
It was so hard not to reach across the table and pull him over it and kiss that mouth. But what was I supposed to do just drop my date because he looked at me with those big doe eyes of his?
I watched him walk out of the restaurant and it was like daggers going through me. But what else could I do?
I didn't have a great time on my date, but it was something to take my mind off of Michael. I know that sounds horrible. But life goes on. And now is all I have. I can't dwell on the past, and I can't wait for the future to come to me.
But I do on occasion fantasize about it. I feel the crush of his lips against mine, the velvet smoothness of his skin. The silky soft radiance of his raven locks gliding between my fingers...
This shit has to stop. It's getting me nowhere.
It's sad, so sad
It's a sad, sad situation.
And it's getting more and more absurd.
It's sad, so sad
Why can't we talk it over?
Oh it seems to me
That sorry seems to be the hardest word.
Yeah. Sorry
Okay so I see him right and he's dancing looking good and fuck. my dick gets hard and my palms get sweaty. And I'm Jonesing for him like there's no tomorrow. I can't get Emmett's "positively yummy" out of my head. So I make up my mind and I go see him.
And he shoots me down. I mean I went down in a ball of flames.
What I got to do to make you love me?
What I got to do to be heard?
What do I do when lightning strikes me?
What have I got to do?
What have I got to do?
When sorry seems to be the hardest word.
I had all the fucking questions. Then it came to me what I had to do. I picked up my face and took control of the situation. I realized if I were Ben me coming around saying I'm sorry wouldn't mean all that much, especially since I'd walked out on him. So I had to show him that this wasn't about trying to make myself feel better or to prove anything to myself. This was about me wanting to be with him, needing to be with him. This was about me loving him and that took me completely by surprise.