“Leah and Søren are banging like a pair of beasts on the other side and there’s no fucking way I can sleep,” he said, closing the door without waiting for the bassist to tell him it was okay to stay with him. “What ya doing?” he asked as he strode over and plopped on the bed beside him.
“Oh, sure. Make yourself at home.” He chuckled. “Just scrolling through Tumblr.”
“Anything good?”
“Memes and shit.”
“Show me, and pour me one of those, you douche.” He pointed to the whiskey bottle he had resting on his nightstand together with an empty glass. “What kind of host are you?”
“One that hasn’t invited you over?” Marc flashed him a shit-eating, condescending grin.
“Don’t be such a hog, and gimme.” Chris pouted, making the bassist roll his eyes.
“You’re a massive pain in the ass. Could you at least get up to grab another glass?”
“Aye, sir.”
Once both their tumblers were filled, shoulder to shoulder, they leaned slightly to the side. Marc continued scrolling down his account for an hour while they drank, laughed, and commented on some posts. The bassist wasn’t a fan of sharing personal stuff online, so he didn’t upload anything there, but he followed a lot of accounts. Amongst black metal music shit, thriller movie posters and film clips, and recipes for spicy food, there were also a bunch of memes. Memes that would offend all the Karens of the world.
“Look at this,” he said.
It was a stupid image with a woman grinning while eating cereal and a pun written over it—“your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory”.
“Download it and send it to Luca.”
“Rude.”
“Thanks.” Chris grinned. “Oh my God,” he cackled. “My grandma could do better and she’s dead.Save that one too.”
“You really have issues.”
“You’re the one following all these accounts.”
“I look calm, but in my head, I’ve punched you in the face three times.Man, this is Uwe with all of us.” Marc laughed, brushing off his snarky retort. “Oh, and this is so you,I love when people insult me. It means I don’t have to play nice anymore.”
“You want my foot up your ass?”
The bassist laughed even louder.
“Dude, it isn’t that funny.” Chris twisted his mouth in an amused scowl while looking at him.
“It isn’t,” Marc said, choppy between snickers. “But I just pictured the scenario of someone with hobbit feet teasing someone else’s asshole, and I can’t. It’s so damn gross.” He got lost in a weak, uncontrollable cackle, infecting Chris as well.
They were exhausted and tipsy, so it was no surprise that they ended up like this. It wasn’t the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last. It had become a habit for Chris to go over to Marc’s apartment from time to time and crash there for a day or two. Besides eating junk food, playing video games, and talking shit, sharing memes with each other was one of their hobbies, apparently, and it always became a fest of obnoxious jokes that were only funny to them.
However, tonight the deep sound of the bassist’s laughter, sounding somewhat strained as they were lying there against the headboard with their necks bent in the weirdest positions, shivered through his body like a rattlesnake tail.
Chris wiped the tears that were brimming his eyes, smile widening as he gazed at Marc.
His friend, guffawing whole-heartedly and free of all the awkwardness that had been surrounding them for the last month, sent him into a numbing euphoria. It had his skin prickling and his brain rocking in a haze of longing and peace. Gentle. Desperate. Opened. He had missed this. He had missed these alone moments when his stupid dark humor and himself were the center of the bassist’s attention.
As he took in the sight of Marc easing on and off of his laughter, Chris fell hostage to the shadows dancing over the sculpted muscles of his pecs and abs. Here, in the dimmed atmosphere of this room, with some post-metal playing softly in the background and alcohol flooding their veins, the world around them fell away somewhere between sacred and profane. He didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it until now; the way the sound of this man’s voice cut through his self-control like a razor blade. It was hypnotizing. Almost like a dream.
I’m losing my fucking mind.
Since the night they had touched each other, even after their talk, he couldn’t help but see his friend in a different light. Was more certain than ever that this hadn’t happened before. With his hookups, Chris would feel the throbbing in his pants, and that was it. With Marc… it was chaos.
Sometimes it was all fine, and he didn’t feel anything different between them. They hung out, got wasted, and smoked while chit-chatting like they always did. No awkwardness. No weird comments. No sneaky looks. They were just their old selves.
