“I’m sorry I’ve been… soweirdthese last few days.”
Marc felt like rolling his eyes and huffing, yet he didn’t. Instead, he just said, “I’ve heard that before.”
Blunt, yes, but he was tired of this situation. It wasn’t as if he’d asked his friend to swear his eternal love to him. Either he wanted to hump or not, as simple as that. Marc would like to have more than sex, but he was aware of how thin the ice they were standing on was. Being allowed to touch Chris in that way was enough for him to be content. For now, at least.
“Yeah…” The guitarist awkwardly chuckled while perching both hands on the counter and looking down at the bottle caps he was toying with. “But I really am sorry.”
“Okay. Apology accepted. Now what?” Marc asked, tucking an arm under the other as he took a sip of his drink. “We go back to not talking, to being just friends, each other’s dirty secret, or do you want me to sit here and wait until your balls itch and you don’t have any other available hookups to call?”
“It’s not that. I just—” Chris’s shoulders slumped as he glanced up at him for a second. “I’m still confused, Marc.”
“I got that much after you ran out on me the second time.”
“I didn’texactlyrun away,” Chris clipped, locking their eyes. “Okay, I kinda did, but it was different from the first time.”
“How? All I see is what I said a minute ago. You come to me and then ignore me for days as if you’re ashamed of what we’ve done.” Marc tightened his hand around the beer bottle while clenching the other into a fist, both on the counter now. “I’ve never had issues with serious relationships, with open ones, or one-night stands. But I’m no one’s chewing toy. The bullshit you’re putting me through hurts, dude. If orgasms are gonna make you go all nuts every damn time, there’s no need to keep forcing it. We don’t have to do anything anymore.”If you were even considering another repeat, that is.
“I’m not ashamed,” Chris deadpanned. “Maybe I kinda was the first time, or just scared and shocked; whatever.” He frowned. “I don’t know. I just—I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us.” A loud thump echoed inside Marc’s body. “But I’m having a hard time coming to terms with all of it. That’s why I didn’t stay the night in LA.” The guitarist clicked his tongue and looked down again. “I’m not used to sleeping with anyone.”
“You’ve slept with me, with Erik, and all the others more than once.” Marc knew he wasn’t talking about sharing a bed or the cramped space in the van because of a low budget, but he still couldn’t shut up.
“I mean after fucking,” Chris added, clearly annoyed that he’d forced him to say that. “I needed some time to process the fact that I had enjoyed it. It’s all so new to me, I don’t know how to handle myself… I-I’ve never done this before with such a close friend and that freaks me out.”
“I’ve never boned a friend either.”
It was the truth. Fucking people—colleagues and acquaintances—he knew from the bar or other places didn’t feel odd. He could bang them one day and act as if nothing had happened the next. But when the bond that tied you to someone involved a deeper connection based on tons of experiences and memories shared, the balance that kept the relationship afloat toppled. Especially if it wasn’t a one-time thing, because you would have to adapt to new dynamics that were equally exciting and terrifying since the possibility of losing your friend was there. That, without counting that Marc was actually in love with this man, certainly made it all the more complicated.
“The thing is, for me, it’s not only the strange sensation I have for risking a friendship over sex… It’s also that said friend is a man.”
“Why are you so caught up in the fact that I’m a man? You never gave a fuck about any of this,” Marc said as he walked over to the couch. He was more irritated at not having a pussy and tits at this moment than he cared to admit, as if being a man was an insult to nature. How stupid. “I mean, I know it’s difficult to accept these changes in yourself even if you’re okay with other people being queer. While I leaned into it when I started thinking I might have been into dudes, for a few months I kinda struggled, too.” He plopped down. “But still…”
He was aware it probably hadn’t been as bad for him as it had been for others, yet back when they were teens, society hadn’t been as open as it was now. The constant reminder in the media that the normal thing was to like the opposite gender, and the cringy stereotyping representation of the queer community, had been isolating—fifteen years sure had made a difference.
“Not everyone has had it as easy as you.” Chris let himself fall on the sectional.
“Yes, I had a great support system.” Marc turned towards him, one leg bent on the couch. “But it’s not like your family or your friends are any different.”
“Who says that?” Chris said after taking a sip of beer.
“You think Leah would treat you differently?”
“No, not Leah,” he mumbled while picking at the bottle label with a chipped black polished nail. “I kind of mentioned this to her when we were in high school and she seemed okay with it. We didn’t get deep into it, but she still said the same thing she told me a few months ago; that she doesn’t care who I like or love as long as I’m happy.”
“Wait. High school? What?” Marc frowned. “You mean—”
“I don’t know what I mean.” Chris sighed, sinking into the couch and looking up at the ceiling. “But yeah, I also had doubts for a while when I was younger, until I realized it was just my hormones going wild. Though, apparently, I had just convinced myself I was only into chicks, given the situation we’re in now.”
Marc’s arm went slack and his hand fell limp over the back of the couch as the rest of him stiffened. He didn’t know Chris had struggled with his sexuality in the past. He’d always been so hypersexual and solely interested in women that the idea hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“But if Leah supported you, and I bet Luca would have been okay with it, too…” the bassist started, not really sure how to end the sentence.
“Like I said, not everyone had it as easy as you.” Chris took a swig of beer, clenching his jaw as he swallowed. “You remember Emma?”
“Yeah.”The gothic chick.
She’d been Chris’s girlfriend when they’d met a decade before. Marc had seen her several times when she had come to Munich to visit the guitarist, as she was still living in their hometown. They had been together since high school and dated until they were almost twenty—the only long-lasting relationship Chris had ever had.
“I told everyone, even Leah, we broke up because the distance was taking a toll on us, but that was a lie. I just didn’t want you guys to make a big deal out of it and have to explain the whole situation. After Emma came to one of those lame gigs we used to play at the beginning and saw a few chicks hitting on me hard, she grew super insecure and started distrusting me.” He twisted his mouth into a frown. “Not that she’d ever had great self-esteem, but with the distance it just got worse.”
