Sure, he had no problems admitting how attractive his friend was. Yet, at the same time, the thought of interacting with a dick that wasn’t his own was plain weird. It was like eating chocolate mint cookies, the richness and bitterness of the chocolate swamping your senses and then suddenly something refreshing and cool hitting your tastebuds. Some loved it. Some hated it. But him? He didn’t know where to stand; had a love-hate relationship with them.
Chris sighed, defeated.
Although there was no such thing as a typical coming out experience, for some people, it seemed pretty easy. They would just post something on social media ranting about it, and everyone would just be okay with it, virtually patting their backs for being so brave. Others struggled through a lifetime of self-deception and lies, like him, apparently. Or not?
Ugh. He continued stomping away.
Why did this oddly familiar idea ofmaybeliking men feel equally wrong and right? Why was he battling with this wave of misplaced shameagain?
It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this. Couldn’t even count the amount of times he had questioned his sexuality when he was younger. But he thought that phase of his life filled with self-consciousness and doubt was already far behind him.
Back when he was in high school, the term “bisexual” struck a chord within him. It wasn’t that the label itself was so important. Chris had never cared about that stuff. But it was empowering somehow. It had made him realize he wasn’t crazy. It’d given him validity in his identity, in what he was attracted to.
However, there had been days when he was more attracted to girls than boys. Days where he’d wondered if he was just a straight, genuinely confused teen, likedaddy dearestused to say every time they’d turned on the TV and something queer related had popped up on it—“What is with this stupid trend of everyone being gay now?”, “These people need to find something to do with their lives”, “They’re so brainwashed by all these movies and modern hippie life, they don’t know what they want anymore”.
His lack of understanding and empathy shone for its absence, only getting worse over the years as he became a cranky asshole. Although it hadn’t surprised Chris, considering he’d called him an attention-seeker for the self-harming. Too bad his father didn’t see that he was the one triggering that response with his overbearing, strict attitude and constant disappointment in everything the teenage boy did. He never had a fucking good thing to say.
His mom had always intervened when he put him or his sister down, or made derogatory comments, cutting the conversation short—aside from the old man cheating, this type of stuff and the arguments it led to were most likely what had made them grow cold and ultimately fall apart.
It didn’t matter that she defended them or that Chris knew his father’s poisonous words towards the LGBTQ+ community were unfounded, though. They’d penetrated deep into his malleable brain, leaving a negative lasting impression that something was wrong with him for feeling so different from other kids his entire life.
At least that was what he’d thought at the time. In the end, he only had three real friends, counting Leah, and was also the only one amongst his male classmates to ever look at or mention anything about other guys. He’d even contrasted his own feelings, creating some sort of equation that would tell him who he was—if he was attracted to X number of one gender, he had to be attracted to the same number of another, as if it was math.
His throat clogged and his brain felt about to explode as Chris entered the bus. He kicked off his Vans and pulled the sweaty t-shirt over his head, tossing it behind him on the couch before locking himself in the bathroom. The silence inside mixed with the constant buzzing of the engines only increased the volume of his pulse as he stared at himself in the mirror. He wanted to drink himself stupid.Fuck. Stop thinking!
There was no doubt that his puberty had been a fucking rollercoaster, with more downs and dramatic moments than ups. Maybe he’d known all along who he really was and his quest to bury it all deep inside was what made him feel so empty and lonesome.
Maybe, subconsciously, he had twisted all these emotions to the point he didn’t even recognize his own reflection because of how common and cruel the biphobic clichés were.“It’s just a phase”. “You’re confused”. “Bisexuality is not scientifically possible”. “You’re just greedy”. It was as if what he’d felt on multiple occasions was abnormal and he could only be straight or gay.
Even his last ex-girlfriend, the only one besides Leah with whom he had shared these thoughts, had asked him to swear he’d never check out other men or women. As if having doubts about all this would turn him into a cheating douche canoe. Like, what the fuck? He wasn’t sure what to do with the turmoil sending confusing signals to his brain. Wasn’t even sure if it was an actual identity crisis or just the raging hormones having a bacchanal inside of him, given his age. And even if he’d indeed been queer, what did that have to do with anything? It wasn’t like it would have invalidated the love he had for her. Why did she need that kind of reassurance?
Chris felt like laughing at himself or punching the mirror in front of him for showing a reality he didn’t want to face.
“Fuck!” he snarled, tightening his grip on the sink, knuckles turning white.
All that stupid internalized prejudice and those ridiculous comments had flown out of his mouth more than once, too. Totally unconsciously, he himself had implied that the bassist was hypersexual and easy multiple times just because he was into women as much as he was into men. Still, his friend had never gotten angry.
His heart sank in his chest.
Marc, one of the pillars of his sanity... If he ignored the fact that he was a man so his conflicted ass could focus on the important thing here, he couldn’t deny the bassist’s touch had made him feel things he hadn’t felt with any of the pussies he’d tasted over the years. Marc made him feel safer, more alive, and freer than anyone ever had before. He had done so from the second they’d met. The way he looked at the world and stood his ground against the obstacles life threw at him. The way he always got up and supported others. The kindness of his heart, with space for everyone who proved they were worthy.
Everything about him screamed home, a shelter where Chris could drop his armor and rest without fear. Yet the guitarist wasn’t cut for monogamy. Much less if it entailed stepping on such unknown, swampy ground. Too much work, thinking, and emotional wrestling. He was too fucked up for that.
Since that last girlfriend, who hadn’t trusted him enough to stay with him when they’d started the band—apparently,allrockstars were serial adulterers—he had only been fucking around. Was more than okay with his singleness and the mental peace it brought as he could do what, when, and whoever he wanted without having to justify his actions to anyone.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss a deeper connection sometimes, though. A connection he shared with Marc.
But now that they had crossed the line of carnal desires, this newly found possible truth was pulsing raw on his skin. Was Chris willing to risk their friendship, the band, and all the dreams they had for it and take a leap of faith to see if this chance at happiness was more than just an illusion?
11. Chasing Shadows
August3rd,2017
Miami, Florida
Marc didn’t remembera time in his life that resembled the discomfort slithering through his veins like it was at the moment, making his heart struggle with every beat.
Well, he did.
