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Ian
"So, after 4 years, that's it? You found someone more fun and are moving on?" The pain in those words surprise me. I honestly thought that our relationship was boring and monotonous, and that Nick would love moving on as much as I would. "Look, baby..." "Don't fucking baby me, Ian" Nick doesn't swear. Ever. Hearing that word come out of his mouth jarred me. But more surprising is the venom in his words. Nick was the most polite and kind person I have ever met, and the hatred lacing his words has revealed a side of him I never knew. "It's not that I found someone more fun, Nick. It's that we've stagnated. We don't do anything anymore. We don't even fuck each other anymore. You are always tired and out of it, and I'm sitting here neglected and alone. I can't live like that, no-one can" "You think the past months have been fun for me, Ian?" the venom in Nick's voice is coming thick and fast, and I know this is going to hurt. "I have been working my ass off to support you and bankroll that fucking Gallery you call a business and come home to a boyfriend who demands the fucking world from me. Do you know what it's like to go into that firm everyday and do work you hate, but know it's helping the man you love achieve his dream? I died a little every day I had to defend stockbrokers and executives, but I did it for you. And now you say it isn't fun for you anymore and you found someone better? Well fuck you, Ian!" "Look, Nick..." "Did you fuck him in our bed?" That wasn't something I was prepared for. I honestly thought he would be as relieved as I was to be moving on. But Nick looked genuinely hurt. "Yes." I answered "When?" "What?" Did he want the first time? When it started? "When was the last time you fucked him in our bed?" Fuck. This was going worse than I thought. "2 hours ago" Nick looked like someone had punched him. The tears were coming fast now, silently running down his face as he tried to steel himself. Wordlessly, he walked past me and into Our' bedroom. Well, I guess it isn't Our' bedroom anymore. He grabbed his bag and started filling it with clothes. "Nick..." "Don't you fucking dare, Ian. I love you, well loved you, but you just drove a stake through my fucking heart. After everything we have been through, all that I've done for you, you throw me to the curb because I don't entertain you enough anymore? Because I'm too busy working to support you to make you feel all warm and happy inside? I hope the man you found makes you happy and doesn't just get off on breaking up relationships. I'll come around when you're at work and get the rest of my things." During his monologue he had finished packing a bag with clothes and some toiletries, and he was now on his way to the door. I felt I couldn't let him just walk out without trying to salvage a friendship of some sort. "Nick, please don't be like this. We can still be friends, can't we?" He stopped on the threshold of the apartment, and let out a humourless laugh. "After cheating on me and breaking up with me so you can be with your whore, you have the gall to try and be friends? Go to hell Ian. Fuck you." The door violently slams after him, vibrating the wall. I collapse in defeat into the closest armchair (which was Nick's favourite armchair, coincidently) and let the feelings just wash over me. What could I have done differently? How could I have broken up with Nick and still have a friendship with him? A soft knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and I open it, half hoping it's Nick. "So, how did it go?" asks Jason "About as well as can be expected, I guess. He was pretty angry, I don't think he'll ever talk to me again." "Well don't worry about him, baby. You have me now. Why don't I cheer you up?" Jason says seductively Despite what happened, Jason got me hard in an instant. We go down to what was Mine and Nick's bedroom (I guess it'd be Mine and Jason's now), and we explore each other until we drift off into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.
Nick
I can't believe what just happened. I walk from the apartment that was mine and bump into someone as they get out of the elevator. He's attractive, shorter than me (not hard at my height of 6'4") and looks like a model. I quietly get into the empty elevator and leave the building for what I am sure is the last time. I step onto the bustling Brooklyn streets and my brain kicks into gear. I need shelter, food, and as much whiskey as humanly possible. Once I have those, I can work out what the fuck to do with my life. The first thing is to get out of Brooklyn. Ian never goes into mid-town Manhattan if he can help it, and since he's not going to be visiting me in my office anytime soon, I feel that's probably my best bet. In the cab going over to the hotel I chose I think over my final interaction with Ian. What did I do wrong? Could I have been more attentive, worked fewer hours, been a better boyfriend? Ian was the man of my dreams. He was 6'2", and the epitome of dark, mysterious, and handsome. Add to that versatile and he was a catch for me, as it's hard to find tops for a 6'4" bottom. Being that tall and a bottom generally scared everyone off, so Ian was the first real boyfriend I had. Is that why I was so caught up on it? Was I reading too much into our relationship? I was the first to say I Love You, and I had bought the ring and the box was in my pocket and I was going to... "We're here." The drivers statement threw me out of my rambling thoughts. In a daze, I paid for the cab, checked in, and finally collapsed on the bed. Not my bed, the one I shared with the man I loved, but an unmarked, nameless bed. The only thing marking my passage through this room would be an entry in an accounting ledger, maybe the memories of the staff. Man, that's a depressing thought. Luckily my hosts mentioned a local bar, cheap and generous with the liquor. I guess people really can see when you've been put through the wringer. Not wanting to be drunk alone, I called my brother Owen. "Hey Owen..." "Nick, it's 11pm. You have better got a good reason for calling me this late." "Ian broke up with me. I'm planning on drowning my sorrows and eating Tacos." There was a slight delay on his end. I could hear his wife, annoyed I called so late. "Where are you? I'll be there as soon as I can."
Ian
Jason was asleep beside me, his beautiful face relaxed and his chest rising and falling. This wasn't a home wrecker, no matter what Nick said. That was his jealousy talking. I wondered what he was doing, whether he was safe. I knew his brother lived in the city, but Nick was stubborn and wouldn't reach out unless it was really bad. I picked up my phone from its place on the charging pad and opened Instagram. No messages, and Nick hasn't blocked me. Or he hasn't blocked me yet. I know what I did was horrible, but I still care for him, okay? I want to make sure he's safe. So I creep out of my bedroom and call Owen, Nick's older brother. "What the fuck do you want, Ian?" I guess he knows. The Sullivan brothers (Nick and Owen) never swore. I guess I changed that. "I just want to make sure Nick's alright." My voice sounds meek in contrast to Owen's fury. "You lost any right to know about him before you starting fucking behind his back and then broke up with him for your whore. I thought you were better than that Ian, I honestly did." "I'm sorry..." I try to interject "No, you're not. Is your whore the guy Nick ran to when leaving your apartment?" I was silent, and I guess Owen took that as an answer. "It was. You're fucking unbelievable. You break up with my brother and immediately fuck your whore in the bed he paid for. I can't believe he was going to propose to your useless cheating ass. Fuck you. Never call this number again." I sit there listening to nothing, Owen having hung up in anger. Nick was going to propose to me? Did I read everything wrong? Did I fuck everything up?
Nick
Mixing heartbreak and whiskey is never a good idea. My hangover is killing me, and it's a workday. Slowly waking up, I feel someone's body next to me. Fuck. I can't believe I slept with someone the day Ian broke up with me. I turn over and thank god it's just my older brother – over the duvet and completely dressed. "Good morning" Owen states, emotionless. "What happened last night? My head kills" "That'd be all the absinthe you drank last night. You decided whiskey wasn't strong enough, so you graduated to straight absinthe. You were almost sent to the hospital for alcohol poisoning" I feel Owen's judgemental gaze inside me. Our dad killed mom because he was driving drunk, and absinthe was his drink. "I'm sorry Owen. I just hurt so much." "I know buddy, and I'm not saying it was uncalled for. I just don't want to be the last Sullivan, ok? I'm worried about you." "I'm sorry Owen, but why am I the one who hurts so much? I was cheated on, broken up with, and kicked out of my apartment. Why do I have to be the sad and hurt one on top of that?" "It's not fair, Nicky, I know. It's just the way it is, and nothing I can say is going to make it better." I'd heard that exact statement before. He said it to me the night our parents died. My parents disowned him for dating a non-believer (benefits of having Pastors for parents) but he rushed back to Dallas to be there for me. I don't deserve Owen. "What do I do, Owen? All my plans don't mean anything anymore. I was going to marry Ian, and when his Gallery started making money I was going to do something I wanted. But now I have to rebuild my life from the rubble." "Lets start from the beginning, okay Nicky? First, we need to get all your stuff out of his apartment and find you a new one. Come and stay with me and Lianna, she'd love to have you." Lianna was the best person in the world. Kind and loving, she knew exactly what you needed whether it be chicken noodle soup or a kick in the butt. "Fine, but I have to go to work today." I stated "Nope. Quit." "What? I need my job Owen. How else am I going to get an apartment or rebuild my life?" "I know you hate your job. You know you hate your job. Christ, even Ian knew you hated your job. You are at a crossroads, Nicky. You can choose to follow the path you've been on, and live in misery for the rest of your life wanting Ian to call you, saying how sorry he is and how much he wants to be with you. Or you can finally live for yourself and do what you want to do." He was right. I decided what I wanted was something to deal with later and pushed Ian's goals above mine. For the first time in 4 years I had the opportunity to chase my goals. To work on myself. After 3 years at this law firm, I had let the drinking get to me. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe I could live for me.
2 Years Later
Nick
I hate to say this, but what Ian did to me was probably a better kick in my butt than Lianna could ever give. After spending 3 months living on Owen and Lianna's couch, I found a job I love with the United Nations and an apartment in the Upper East Side. I purposely didn't block Ian from my Instagram, mainly because I wanted to show him I was over him and moving forward. But a small part of me wanted him to come back, to say he loved me and that he wanted me and he was sorry. I knew that was garbage and would never happen, but the heart wants what it wants. My friends helped me through my breakup, and even played watchdog and got me out of venues if Ian showed up with Jason (which happened less and less). But Ian ruined me for guys. Being a 6'4" bottom, I was incredibly unlucky in love. Most men I approached or who approached me would baulk at the idea of a tall bottom, leaving me to go home alone to my apartment and jerk off. For anyone who took me home I was like a circus freak. The bearded lady, the strongman, the tall bottom. Eventually I got tired of being a circus freak and threw myself into my work and spending time with my niece and nephew. Owen and Lianna moved upstate and had a couple of kids, and they were the most beautiful creatures on God's green earth. I love being the Gay Uncle, and it filled the void Ian left. Kind of. I mean, I even went back to church to see if that would give me purpose, but it just made me feel like more of a failure. I just got myself used to being alone and expected to be alone for the rest of my life. The only wrinkle is Ian. I spent hours going through his Instagram, looking at where he is and what he is doing. I almost hired an escort to go with me to his gallery so I could show him I was completely over him, but I chickened out at the last minute and spent the evening in my bed crying. I still have the ring I was going to propose to him with. Every time I choose my undies, it's there, mocking me. But I can't get rid of it, it's almost like it's a part of my soul now. Something I will carry until the day I die. Alone.
Ian
Nick was right. Jason was more interested in breaking relationships than being in one. When I found him texting nudes to a new friend, he told me it was a joke and the friend was straight and I was the only one for him. That lasted 2 months. I came home early and found his new straight' friend balls deep in Jason on our bed! I guess karma must be real. I kicked Jason and his straight' friend out and found myself alone for the first time in 2 years. And I mean fully alone. Nick took our close friends, and I was left with the superficial people who were friends with us because I was cool or owned a gallery. Our close friends were disgusted with what I had done to Nick, but our superficial friends couldn't care less. That wasn't sustainable, and they moved on to cooler friends or better gallery owners, returning my texts days later, then weeks, and then not responding. I know how to take a message. I lay on my bed and rethought the last 3 years. Meeting Jason at an event at the Gallery. How he chased me harder when he found I was in a relationship. The end of my relationship with Nick. All my thoughts end with Nick now. Mentally beating myself up when I realise what I let go. I let my dick direct my heart, and I am paying for it now. Realizing the sheets hadn't been changed after Jason and his friend had been on them 30 minutes earlier, I went into a cleaning frenzy. Sheets, towels, clothes all ended up in the wash. Every surface was covered in Lysol. Hours later, exhausted but surrounded by cleanliness, I crawled into bed. Looking at my phone for the first time in hours, I was inundated by texts from Jason saying it wasn't real. That I was the only one for him. There was a text from an unsaved number saying he didn't know and that he was sorry. I guess that was Jason's `Straight' friend. I ignored them and was unconsciously drawn to Nick's Instagram page. The most surprising thing about our breakup was him not blocking me on Instagram. He unfollowed me, deleted all pictures with us together, and scrubbed all mention of me. But he didn't block me, like he wanted me to see him getting over me and moving on. I saw the point where we broke up easily, a black square with a white quote: "Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form". He loved Rumi, and I recognised that quote immediately. The 2 years since had been filled with travel and work, but no man. At least, that's what it looked like. Realising that I had thrown away Nick for Jason brought white hot tears. It was the final realisation that I had abandoned a man who loved me. I gave up when it was tough. But Nick moved on and has built a remarkable life. His Instagram bio shows he left his garbage law firm he hated and is working for the United Nations, like he always said he would. And I am watching from the sidelines. No. I know I was selfish, and I was wrong. But I need Nick back. I am going to do everything to get him back. I need him back.