Rushing into the private room again, Marc found Vi sitting on the couch she’d already closed. She was already dressed and had probably heard the entire conversation, a shadow of guilt and remorse casting over her pretty face. But he didn’t have time to check on her.
Quickly, he grabbed his clothes, stumbling on his way out as he put them on, only to come face to face with Leah and Søren when he almost fell down the stairs of the bus.
Wonderful.
“H-hi,” he tossed, gripping the handrail to tether himself to the tangible world as his heart seemed about to take off.
Marc looked at them. They looked at him. No one said anything. Then he felt someone’s presence behind him.
“Shit.” Completely defeated, he dragged a palm over his face. Redhead was standing there in silence, looking like she wanted a black hole to make her disappear.
“What happened?” Leah asked, but Marc’s brain wasn’t functioning.
“I-I…” he stuttered. “Nothing.” He huffed, running his fingers through his hair.
“Is he okay?” Vi whispered as she stood beside him.
She had no idea about the dynamics between him and Marc, nor did they bother to explain beforehand that they were just friends and Chris wasn’t into dudes. So why would she think that them interacting was wrong? And now here she was, feeling guilty when the fault of this awkward and unnecessary situation was theirs.
Marc sighed, touching her cheek. “He will be. Don’t worry.” Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer to him. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Marc!” He heard Leah calling as they walked away.
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” He waved at them.
The bassist fell deep in thought, not even realizing when they reached Vi’s car. The disgust in his friend’s expression as he spurted all those spiteful words was swirling in his head, mixing with the ones from two seconds before when he was coming undone in his mouth.
He knew he should have listened to logic and not let his most primal instincts take charge. It was a delicate situation. Still, he ignored all the alarms and red flags. And out of all his fears and all the things he didn’t say to not hurt others and live in peace, he had crossed the line he’d never wanted to breach; losing his friend and everything they’d built together in an instant.
10. Split
July31st,2017
Charlotte, North Carolina
Shocked.That was how Chris was still feeling, to put it mildly.
“What the fuck”had become his favorite sentence for the last twenty-four hours. It was as if he were frozen in time, or like he was a fucking bugged NPC walking in circles and glitching like a motherfucker. Goat Simulator in all its glory.
He was an adult, and no one had forced him to do anything, but every time he recalled what happened the night before, he simply couldn’t cope. It was so bad that even the urge to harm himself had hit him in waves during the day—that hadn’t happened in years.
How did he get there? He wasn’t attracted to men. The idea of their bodies rippling with pleasure pressed to his or their dicks bouncing in his face wasn’t exactly exciting imagery. Even after what he had done with his friend, it still felt so foreign. It was as if he hadn’t really been there, as if someone had taken possession of the wheel and driven him straight off a cliff.
The memories of the caresses and sounds that had flooded the back lounge swirled in the guitarist’s head, spinning out of control as an unwelcome tingling sensation ran down his spine.
As far as Chris was concerned, Marc could be as bisexual as he wanted. Gay, if he fancied. But he wasn’t like that. He was straight. The fact that he’d had one of the strongest releases of his life didn’t change shit. The bassist was a man, which made him a connoisseur of the male body. Him being into dudes and having screwed multiple of them only added to his expertise. That was why he’d been able to do what no woman had done before. That was it. It wasn’t because it felt better than with a female or because Chris had actually enjoyed it.
Orgasms and ejaculation are nothing more than a reaction of the body to the stimulus. One doesn’t need to be into the person delivering the pleasure.
“Ugh!” Chris ruffled his hair.
Sighing a grey cloud of smoke, he rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head. He was looking at the ground beneath his feet, watching the dance of neon lights washing over it. Yet his brain wasn’t registering any of it. His sight was defocused, lost in a limbo inside his mind he didn’t visit that often anymore, to the point he couldn’t even hear the people around him or the rumble of the city.
It was fucked up. A man had blown him. A man had made him exhale hoarse moans and fucking squirm under his touch. And not just any man; one of his best friends. Worst of all, though, wasn’t even that he was confused about the way Marc had touched him, but what he himself had done afterward. He’d willingly and eagerly jerked the bassist off and kissed him. Twice.What in the actual fuck?
Chris would have liked to say that this didn’t affect him. That he was okay with their interaction. For some bizarre reason, he’d always thought he would just lean into the curiosity of experimenting with the same gender whenever it hit him. Had assumed it would happen at some point, given his inclination to share a bed with more than one person at the same time. He was more than okay with people liking others just for being alive and fucking whoever they wanted, as long as they didn’t hurt anyone. Still, he couldn’t shake off the uneasiness slumping in his system.
However, what he hated the most about these sensations that had him feeling numb was being so caught up in his head. This loop he was trapped in had converted him into an irritable twat, to the point he’d snapped at Leah earlier in the morning just because they had bumped into each other on the bus, as if that didn’t happen daily. He had been so cranky that she hadn’t even approached to ask him if he was okay or if he needed anything, aware he would bark nothing but rude words to her. Though, she had been glancing in his direction with sadness, twisting her face all the damn time—also exasperating. The guys were probably worried, too, yet they were significantly better than her at concealing their emotions.
