Gregory saw the heat flame through Landon’s neck and a line formed between his eyes.
“What do you mean, you knew?”
“Do you remember what we did New Year’s Eve our senior year?” Gregory asked him, the memory snapping at him from a place he’d kept it long buried.
“Not specifically.” Landon tried to pull his face away, but Gregory held him in place.
“We were at your house. Your parents were gone.” Gregory kneeled on the edge of the mattress and pressed his body against Landon’s until he folded over onto his back. “I’d tied you to the bed with a belt. Your cock was so hard. I remember how it looked.”
Gregory leaned over Landon and licked the shell of his ear. “I jerked off for years thinking about how you looked that night."
“Fuck.” Landon whooshed out a breath against Gregory’s cheek.
“We did. But I wanted to tease you some more so I went to your desk and I found some binder clips. Remember that?” Gregory slid his hand down Landon’s throat, down his chest to one of his small brown nipples. He pinched it between his fingers and twisted. Landon arched up and gasped.
“I remember.”
“Me, too. I opened the top drawer of your desk, and right there on top of everything was a copy of your application to Columbia. It was from October; the filing deadline was January first. That was three months you could have said something to me.” Gregory let go of Landon’s nipple long enough for the blood flow to return then he pinched it again, sharply. “Three months that I could have applied myself and tried to get a scholarship.”
Gregory twisted Landon’s nipple again, harder this time, and Landon cried out and squeezed his eyes closed. His cock twitched against Gregory’s thigh, hard again and leaking with precum.
“I found the clips and I put them on these perfect little nipples of yours, then I sucked your cock until you came, and I didn’t stop until your fought so hard against your restraints that you cracked your headboard.”
A tear escaped from one of Landon’s closed eyes. Gregory let go of his nipple and knelt back on his heels, resting his hands in his lap. He had fought many years against admitting that he’d been abandoned long before Landon had gone to New York. That was a truth that cut much deeper than the one he’d told himself.
“So I let it go on for three months because I didn’t know what else to do. Because I loved you in the reckless and careless way a teenager is capable of loving someone, and then you finally told me and we talked about it and I thought it would be okay. I swear, I wanted to try to make it work, but I moved to Florida and it didn’t hurt less. You being gone didn’t hurt less. The broken promises didn’t hurt less. If anything, it was amplified and it surrounded me and I just couldn’t take one more fucking lie. I woke up one morning and I was afraid that if I heard one more proclamation of love out of your mouth that my heart would literally fucking break if I couldn’t physically touch you, so I told you we had to end things. And you cried, and we fought, but it had to end. So I stopped answering your calls after that last one.” Gregory shook his head and watched the tears slide down the side of Landon’s face. “So, maybe that was wrong of me, and I’m sorry if it hurt you. I was just trying to stop my own hurting.”
Gregory let go of Landon and rubbed at his eyes and let the actual truth of their break-up settle between them. Landon’s eyes were still closed and his body trembled with restrained sobs. Gregory wanted more than anything to calm him, but he stopped himself. This wasn’t the time. They needed to face the cold reality of their actions head on, together or otherwise. If he were to go to Landon, it would put it off longer. They’d never be able to move on in any direction. He backed off the bed, crossing back to the dresser and resting his back against it as he watched Landon fall apart.
Gregory didn’t know how much time had passed; maybe an hour, when Landon sat up and dug the heels of his palms against his eyes and shook his head. He sniffled and hiccupped then startled when he looked across the room and found Gregory still against the dresser in the same position as earlier.
“You’re still here?” he choked out.
“We’re not done yet,” Gregory answered.
Landon was off the bed and in front of him, on his knees in a position that they’d learned together years ago. Gregory observed the way Landon’s muscles quaked as his weight settled on his hips, the way his shoulders relaxed, and his forearms softened. Landon flicked his eyes up at Gregory, and he said, “I’m sorry.” Then he directed his eyes to the floor.
Gregory inhaled a shaky breath, painfully aware of that while they’d learned about this together, they’d both expanded their experiences with others. Landon as a teenager had been angular and rough, unclear on the power he yielded from his knees, but now Gregory could see the subtle way Landon’s spine straightened while the rest of his body relaxed, the pride and power of his submission painted clear through his bones.
“What for?” Gregory asked, clasping his hands together behind his back, not trusting his fingers to not betray him and reach for Landon.
“Not telling you about Columbia.”
“Why didn’t you?” Gregory tried to mask the hurt in his voice, but it cracked.
“I don’t know,” Landon shrugged, his shoulders heaving and collapsing back into their state of rest. “Columbia wasn’t my plan. I thought they wanted me to apply so they could brag if I got in. I didn’t know they would come back and say they’d only pay for Columbia and not Florida.”
“Was it worth it?”
“That’s not a fair question, and you know it.” Landon’s tone was biting even though his head remained bowed.
“You’re right,” Gregory conceded. “I’m sorry for that.”
“I’msorry,” Landon repeated. “Jesus, Greg, I’m sorry.” Landon laced his fingers together behind his neck and squeezed.
“It’s fine, Landon.” Gregory reached a hand out and carded his fingers through Landon’s hair.
The surprising part of this exchange was that Gregory felt in his heart he was being honest. He’d admitted the truth he’d buried years ago and now that it was off his shoulders, it seemed like it had washed away a memory better forgotten anyway. He closed his eyes and he couldn’t even recall the weight of it anymore.
