“After the month touring, I guess… I missed having you around.”Lame.
“That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
“Fuck you.” Chris shoved his chest and closed his eyes again, not wanting to continue with this conversation.
He knew why he had come here. The high and its following meltdown had only been a physical breakthrough of everything he had been piling inside for months. Maybe even years. Who the fuck knew? But he couldn't find the courage to voice it. Not after having acted like the biggest crybaby in history.
His mind was clearer now after recovering from that rollercoaster, and he perfectly remembered how Marc’s eyes had speared through him when he’d said,“What is it you need to hear? That I’m on my knees for you? Because I fucking am.”
Logically, he knew what that meant. The bassist was open to giving them a chance as something more than just friends with benefits, or whatever this was. But Chris wasn’t worthy of him. This man was everything, and he, well, he was a shitshow of a human being. Chances were, he’d end up hurting him and ruining the band along with their relationship.
“Why can’t you be honest about it?”
“Because.” Chris exhaled through his nose, ready to leave that as his answer again. But then, he made the mistake of opening his eyes. Warm, dark irises filled with understanding and hope were staring back at him. “I… It’s public domain that I’m not good with all this emotional bullshit. For reasons unknown, I grew up being my own crutch and never learned how to open up.”
Marc clenched his jaw. “You do with Leah.”
Was that just a dash of jealousy in his tone?
“Hmm… I talk a lot of trash with her, yeah. But not everything. There are things I can’t say out loud, no matter who the person in front of me is.” Like the self-harming. They’d talked about it ages before because she’d seen the cuts, not because he’d wanted to bring it up.
“Why?”
“Most things I don’t know how to make sense enough of them to put them into words, and the rest…” He twisted his mouth. “I guess I can’t allow myself to get hurt.”
Marc frowned, getting up to recline on his elbow. “You think that if you open up with me about why you came here and what you felt and thought while we were fucking, I’m gonna hurt you?”
“No, not you.” Chris rolled onto his back again and stared at the ceiling. “What we’ve been doing has opened my mind to a lot more than my sexuality. And honestly, discovering that I like dick has been easier to process than… the way I feel about you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Marc, I can’t give you what you want.” He paused, trying to organize the rest of his thoughts so they didn’t come out wrong. “I—”
“When have I told you what I want? Because I don’t remember doing such a thing.”
The guitarist turned his face to him. “True. But, from what you said before, I take it that fooling around isn’t enough for you. Not anymore. And honestly—” Rolling to face him again, Chris lazily traced the lines of the skull and demonic runes Marc had tattooed on his right forearm. “You deserve better.”
“That decision is mine to make,” Marc said as he opened his palm and turned it up on the mattress, his fingers flexing when the guitarist brushed his over them.
“On the outside, it may look like I have my shit together, but I don’t. Not when it comes to relationships…”
“Actually, it’s pretty obvious,” Marc quipped, earning himself a challenging glare. “But I haven’t asked you to marry me. Not even to think ahead to the future.” He trapped his hand. “I just want you to let me in, Chris. What are you so scared of?”
“Marc, I can’t be that person. I’m fucking broken. You don’t wanna have to deal with that.”
“I’ve been dealing with your stupid ass for a decade. This”—he flicked a finger between them—“only adds to what we already had. Maybe the problem is that our relationship isn’t fulfilling enough for you, and that’s okay.”
“It’s not that, Marc. Fuck, no. I wish it were…” Chris lowered his tone and his head, not knowing what else to say. “I just—”
The lump in his throat grew, making it hard to swallow. Speaking about this made him feel too vulnerable. He hated the sensation of his emotions, thoughts, and words slipping through his fingers like smoke. But what did he have to lose at this point? It wasn’t like he could embarrass himself anymore in front of Marc. He’d already seen him at his highest and his lowest.
“I hate the idea of you with someone else. But you’re all confident, independent, successful, and so annoyingly hot, and I know you’ll find someone more fitting for you. And you’ll leave me… You’ll leave me to have a perfect relationship, with a perfect partner, and your stupid perfect house.” He scowled at the bassist. “There, I said it. Happy?”
Without warning, Marc grabbed his nape and slammed their mouths together with bruising force. Chris’s heart skidded, but instead of trying to run away to hide his scattered emotions, he greedily leaned into his touch. Sliding a knee between Marc’s legs, he opened his mouth and let his demanding tongue in. One of his hands cupped the bassist’s face while the other wrapped around his waist, pressing him harder against him. Their breaths became uneven, and the kiss grew deeper.
