He wasn’t supposed to come home.

Tonight.

Or ever.

But here he is... holding a painting with a tear down the center... his eyes somewhat glazed like he’s been taking E... and... he... looks like shit.

“I’m home,” he says, stumbling into the loft and dropping the painting.

I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to steady him.

“Why are you here?” I have to ask.

He looks at me funny, scrunching his face up...

“Isn’t this my home too? Don’t we have an ‘arrangement’?” he slurs a little, and I know he’s lost it. I don’t know what the fuck happened tonight, but whatever it was.... it wasn’t good. 

I take a step forward... instinctively... wanting to wrap my arms around him... but he pushes me away.

“Don’t. I need to shower. Ethan just fucked the shit outta me,” he mumbles and pulls off his clothes, dropping them in a trail as he heads to the bathroom.

Christ, I didn’t need to hear that. I always wanted to think that no one else... well... that’s a stupid, selfish thing to think. He loves being fucked. Of course he’s been fucked by others... but... I always let myself pretend that my dick is the only one he’s ever had inside him.

I hear the water in the shower come on and I look towards the bathroom... the door is open and I can see a sliver of his body inside... he’s standing there in the hot water... like he did so long ago... like he did that first morning... when he was so fucking naïve... Christ... it didn’t take me long to steal that from him...

I shake my head... not wanting to think that way... not...

I can’t believe he’s here.

I thought... he was gone. I thought... when he left... I’d... be lucky to see him again.

When he walked out the door with that... that... kid... I just... I knew it was... was... supposed to happen... I knew that he’d made his choice... and... it was the right choice for him. He’s too young. I’m... too... immature for him. I know that. He deserves more than this... more... than... me...

And... I know I pushed him away... know inside... that... I’d rather believe that I wanted this to happen... rather believe that... it was because... I... failed him again... on purpose... that... it was because he fell... for my set up... that... he left me...

And not because...

I’m... not... enough for him...

I watched him go... then grabbed the first dick I could find... danced a little... felt a thousand eyes burning into the back of my head. They’d all seen it... they’d all witnessed it... and... I felt like shit... and I felt good for feeling like shit... because... it was my punishment...

Was going to take this guy to the backroom... was going to kiss his fucking face off... was going to... try to stop it... stop... the... sinking feeling I had inside...

Turned to my best friends: cock... a waiting ass... drugs... drink...

But... I really didn’t want any of those things. Nothing.

I walked away from the trick and pulled the mask from my face, tossing it to the ground.

I should’ve felt happy.

Should’ve felt... accomplished...

Then Mikey was at my side, saying he was so sorry, so sorry... and I pushed him away... and walked outside... and got in the Jeep... and drove home.

Opened the door... half expecting to find Justin there... picking up clothes... taking his stuff... leaving me...

But... it was empty.

So empty.

I missed him already. How was I going to last forever without him?

I climbed into bed... pulled the sheets around me... closed my eyes... and tried to dream it all away...

But now...

He’s here...

And I am so... fucking... glad... I can’t help but smile. I have to smile. I don’t know how long he’ll stay... but... he came home to me.

I asked him to choose... and... he chose me.

Tonight, anyway...

I pick up the painting he dropped on the floor and prop it up against the wall so I can look at it. I remembered seeing it. I remembered him painting it and showing it to me... I remembered he’d had it on display at that art show at PIFA he never knew I went to... then it disappeared...

Of course... he’d given it to... Ethan...

He’s never given me any of his art. I’ve bought some... but... he’s never... just given me anything like that...

Fuck... I’ve missed so much...

Christ... I have to...

Try.

Just... fucking... try.

I’ve never tried before... never... actually put any effort into...

Being with someone...

Making... “it”... whatever “it” is... work...

Letting... anyone in...

Even those crazy days in college... I fucked so many... let so many fuck me... I met so many men that I could’ve loved... that loved me...

But... it was my father’s voice I’d hear in my head... don’t let yourself get caught, sonny boy... of course, he meant get caught by a woman...

But... I’d never let myself get caught by anyone. It’s why I’m so shitty to Michael. He’s my best fucking friend in the world. But I’ve hurt him so many times. Stood him up. Ignored his requests. Not returned calls or emails or answered the door when he knows I’m here. I tell him I have men to fuck... when I should be watching a movie with him. But I don’t want to get caught. Don’t ever want to get caught. If I’m a shit... no one could love me.

But Justin...

Fuck...

Justin...

I never... meant for this to happen... I tried to be a shit. I tried to push him away, tried... to hurt him, tried to put up every barricade to loving me that I could possibly build... but he kept coming back.

Then I wanted him to come back.

Then... so much shit happened... so many decisions made... by me... by Justin... by that fuck Chris Hobbes... so many... twists of fate... so many things that never, ever should’ve happened but did...

And now...

All I know... is that... there’s a hole inside me... when... he’s not here...

All I know... is how sick I felt... when I knew... he was fucking someone else... regularly... when I knew... he... was... replacing me...

All I know... is I hated how pathetic I’d become... waiting for him... waiting for 3:00... because I knew he’d come home then... Christ...

And... then... I felt so much anger... at him... for making me feel this way for him... then... leaving me like this... proving to me... why... I never, ever, wanted this in the first place...

He lied to me...

I lied to myself.

I played games to hurt him.

Hoping I could make him feel... half as bad as I felt...

And the more he fucked around... the less I wanted to...

I think maybe...

That’s part of love...

The bad part.

The part I wanted to avoid.

I want the good part now...

Go on to part 4...