Ryland felt like a rat. Ryland the rat. Not Ryland the fox. Just a rat. Rat. Rat. He hated himself for what he had done. He hated that he had done it via video chat, where he could see Aldon's face most of the time and he could hear the sorrow in his voice. But he couldn't take it back. He kept picking up the phone to see if there was some new message, a missed call. But all he got was another lump to join the city of them growing in his throat.
For a few days, he couldn't stop it. He could not stop the choking up, the sudden spring of heat behind his eyes, the crack of his heart. Oh, he loved Aldon. He loved him so much but he couldn't... do it. And Aldon still didn't get it. He never did, not even before all this. Every time they broke up, it was Ryland realizing that he Just. Didn't. GET. It.
Ryland was not polyamorous by nature. He loved one person with all of his heart and his attention and he craved that in return. He wanted somebody to look at him the way he knew he looked at Aldon. Oh, he'd heard it so many times. The others teased him for getting moon eyed whenever Aldon was around. They said he had some kind of spell over him. Yes, Ryland knew. A spell called love. He was stupidly, helplessly in love with an idiot that had the capacity to love more than one person. And Ryland tried--for a short while--to understand that.
But he couldn't. His brain couldn't process it. How could Aldon say he loved him and say it to somebody else at the same time? Did he look at them both the same way? The thought messed with Ryland's brain. Love was supposed to be so warm and it was, when Ryland believed in Aldon.
He thought coming out here, walking up the trails that led out to the forests, would make him feel better. Closer to home. But now he just felt like he didn't have his support network anymore. Alva had his own troubles. Yoojin was happy, she didn't need to hear his drama. And Aldon. Aldon was gone.
"Idiot!" he shouted into the forest. At least it made him feel a little better. But he'd come out here after having a few drinks and he still held the last bottle clutched in his hand.
He made it to the small park up in the woods, where the kids from the trailer park used to play before a lot of the trailers hauled off and the woodlands began to take over. The park was old and decrepit, with graffiti on the slides and weeds creeping up over the bouncy horses.
Still toting his alcohol, Ryland made his way over to the merry-go-round and plopped down, letting the bottle thud hard on the metal, setting it between his knees. After a long pull from the bottle, Ryland leaned back, lying down on the cold metal and staring up at the purple sky. It was dusk; just before the world would go black. He could already see a peek of the moon, fading into view.
"I hate you," he said to the sky, even as his heart thumped in a traitorous tune. All you had to do was just love me. But for something so simple, it wasn't really that simple at all.
(Shhhhutup)
"I hate you!" Marc hissed as he beheaded a clump of weeds, sending it flying at least three feet. It was a good kick; he felt a savage sense of pride afterwards, followed immediately by a vicious hollowness deep down in his chest. The kind of horrible gaping hole that only love--that fucking bastard concept--and the loss of love could produce.
As he broke the cover of the trees, intending on slumping down onto a decrepit park bench and just glaring up at the sky, he noticed that he wasn't alone. Not only that, but the guy looked about as stormy as Marc did and he repeated Marc's words of a minute ago. Marc scowled, mostly bemused. How did this guy know about the park? It was an abandoned playground; weeds had overgrown most of the fixtures and the trees were closing in.
For a second, he debated. He could leave. Find another place to yell and scream, deeper in the woods. Marc just... he just... wanted to punch something, or kick something, or karate chop something. Instead, he wandered closer. The guy looked harmless and boozed up. In fact, he still had the bottle and god, Marc could go for a drop of that right now.
"Hey," he said glumly as he sidled up. "Can I have some of that?"
What the...
Ryland turned to see somebody else occupying the old playground, not somebody he knew. Younger, from the looks of it. Although he didn't look old enough for it, Ryland held up the bottle in the boy's direction.
"Sure." Why not? Why not commiserate? Misery loved company, did it not? And Ryland, though he was out here alone before, didn't actually want to sit here and drink all alone in the dark. What he wanted was his ideal world to exist, the one where Aldon loved only him and didn't go around whispering the same words to other people. WHY didn't he understand why that hurt so much? For Ryland, he was either his or he wasn't. The idea of sharing--maybe it was fine for werewolves. Maybe even foxes without a human mind weighing them down.
But for Ryland, it was important that his lover's attention in that regard was only on him. Was that really so difficult to comprehend?
"Ry," he said by way of introduction. "I take it you're having a shitty night, too."
Nobody wanted to be alone—and wasn't that just the problem with life? Marc didn't want to be alone. Not forever. He knew that he was young and that logically, there were plenty of other fish in the sea, but he didn't want fish. He hated fish.
Taking the bottle with a nod of thanks, he raised it to his lips and he tilted his head back and just... let the booze flow. He drank until the burn in his throat threatened to overcome the burn in his chest, then lowered the bottle and took in a violent breath.
"Marc," he choked, coughing, as he sat himself down heavily beside Ry. Misery did love company, it was true. And just thinking of the word—love—made him take another long gulp. This time it was his eyes that burned.
"Shitty couple of months." Marc looked over at Ry, then handed the bottle over. "We're gonna need more of this." Pure fact. They'd need a hell of a lot more alcohol to drown their sorrows. Ry looked about done in and something in his eyes... Something about the look in his eyes resonated with Marc.
Oh man. The kid was drinking all of it! Ryland let out a slight moan of disapproval and even waved his hand at the kid to try and beckon him into giving the bottle back. It seemed like he drank beyond his capacity because a few seconds later, the boy plopped down, too.
Marc. Marc seemed to be in the same boat as Ryland, then. He nodded slightly as he took hold of the bottle. There was still some liquid in it, so he propped himself up on his elbow and took another long drink from it. The burn was strong but it definitely didn't help the burn inside, no.
"Shitty couple of years," Ry added. Maybe not. Maybe so. Ryland always thought the on/off thing was just how they were, that they were young and eventually they'd settle down together. Now... Now he just felt helpless. And the helplessness made him angry. This wasn't his fault, so why did he have to feel so guilty every time he remembered Aldon's face and his voice? Viciously, he took another drink, so hard that it clinked against his teeth.
"Yeah, we are." Ryland sat up fully, head spinning and spinning, as if the old rusted merry-go-round was moving on its own.
"There's a convenience store down there," Ryland, said making a vague motion back toward the trailer community.
"Damn. And I thought I had it bad." Couple of years? Marc thought this was hell on earth already and it had only been a little over a month. Maybe a month and a half. He couldn't imagine living through this for years, with so much anger and hurt balling up in his stomach.
He looked at the empty bottle with a sigh; the mouthful he got wasn't enough to get him tipsy. He was young and he was no stranger to parties so naturally, his tolerance was high. Ry, though, looked like he could barely sit up and Marc helpfully put a hand at his back to ease him up.
"Let's go get more. Pretty sure wolves come out here after dark." He smiled but it was a pretty grim smile overall. "Don't wanna end up as a snack just yet. ...not that he'd care, probably," Marc added in an angry mutter to himself mostly.
Even if he disappeared off the face of the earth, he was sure that he would barely bat an eyelash. He was too busy chasing guys in bars or... or whatever else he did. Whatever it was that cheating, lying jerks did when they went out to cheat and lie. Marc eyed the bottle, and then vindictively hurled it off into the grass, where it clunked loudly—but didn't break.
"C'mon Ry." He stood up and helped Ry to his feet too. Booze. Then probably more yelling at the woods or... or he'd kick a tree or something. Marc felt like a compressed spring, waiting to explode, wanting to explode but with no real outlet for the volatile emotions stirring up inside. Booze probably wouldn't help. But it might make the night more bearable.
"You wanna go first? Seems like you got a story." A shitty couple of years worth of a story.
"Yeah." More booze. More commiserating. Lamenting. Ryland was all too aware that part of this was his own fault but at the same time, he couldn't help the way he felt or the way he loved. Or how he preferred to be loved. The idea of being in some shared relationship just didn't sit well with him. Ryland was already a fairly private sort of person, with a small number of close friends--though he was friendly enough to his acquaintances. But when it came to deep feelings, those were given in short supply. There was no way he could provide what Aldon seemingly wanted from him.
And honestly! It wasn't fair that he should have to! Every "compromise" that came out of Aldon's mouth just seemed like another way for Aldon to have it all. But what about Ryland? And even--cringe--what about the other guy? He couldn't possibly want to go along with this hare-brained scheme. Aldon even said he didn't bring it up to him. Probably because the guy was huge and could take Aldon's head off for even suggesting it.
Not... that Ryland thought he was abusive but really, what did he know about that guy or their relationship?
Not anything he wanted to know, that was for sure.
Stumbling alongside Marc toward the store, he let out an angry huff. And it was hard to anger Ryland. He could be easily annoyed at times but it was quick and easy enough to pass. Pure anger? Rage? Not really Ryland's thing. Normally, he was quite calm. Just... right now he felt like he needed to shout at the sky and throw these negative feelings away to somewhere else. He was so, so tired of them. Tired of disappointment. Tired of the rollercoaster.
"Don't you?" Ryland asked, looking over at Marc before unsteadily kicking a loose rock. On accident. If it hadn't been so loose, he probably would have stumbled on it. But he was obliging--Marc wanted a story, oh he had a doozy!
"I fell in love with an idiot that couldn't even say the words I love you and then when he finally got to a point where he could, he found somebody else. And it was supposed to just be for his family, to keep them safe--or that's what he said. But somehow, the idiot fell in love with him and now he claims he's in love with both of us. Oh, oh, but here's the kicker! He wants to be with both of us! In like, I don't know, some loose open relationship deal. But I can't. I can't. I'm not--I can't. I love him and he loves somebody else, that's all I see, no matter how much he wants to say he loves me now. It's not the same. And I can't believe he doesn't get it!"
...so yeah. He asked for a story and a story was what he got. Marc had to focus kinda hard since Ry slurred a couple of words now and then, but he got the gist of it. It sounded like a bad romance novel plot, if he had to be honest, or one of those stupid Asian dramas. Or one of those love stories that were so convoluted that it had to be true.
Not that he doubted Ry. Nobody could have that look of hurt and pain in their eyes without having gone through some troubling times. Years. Months. The time frame wasn't important--it was the broken heart that was.
"Shit." He took a deep breath. It wasn't even his story and he felt the weight of it all. A long silence followed as they walked, their shoes crunching the gravel and leaves and twigs. He didn't even know what to say to that, or if Ry wanted him to say anything at all. Sometimes people just needed to get things off their chest and Ry didn't just burst out with it--Marc asked him first.
"So. So he... wants to date you and the other guy? At the same time?" Marc thought of love in straight lines too these days--one person for one person. That was the fairy tale definition of love, wasn't it? Everlasting love, that forever love everybody sought out. Everyone wanted The One. Nobody ever said that they were searching for The Two.
But it wasn't unheard of, either. Marc had friends in open relationships. He was sort of in one himself, really, before he found who he thought was The One.
"Did you make him choose? Did he choose the other guy? Is that why you're out here?" It sounded like given the choice, Ry's idiot went for the other guy.
"I didn't say it in so many words," Ryland said as he took in a breath. "But yeah. He chose the other guy over me."
That was forever how Ryland would see it, there was nothing that could convince him otherwise. He told Aldon he loved him and Aldon claimed to love him, too. And he was visibly and vocally upset over the phone but he was still with that other guy. Instead of hearing that Ryland only wanted him and coming home to be with him, he decided to stay his course. That said everything that Ryland needed to know. Aldon loved him. He just didn't love him enough and that meant they were done. Too bad telling himself that never made the hurt go away. Even the alcohol just sort of dulled over the ache in his heart.
"...what about you?" Ryland asked. Normally he wouldn't ask if somebody didn't want to bring it up themselves but they were commiserating. It only seemed right to exchange their horror stories. Ryland swore he heard the guy say he hated somebody too, so it was probably the same type of story as his own.
"Oh man..." He wondered, though, what made the other guy better. Was it looks? Personality? Marc peeped at Ry out of the corner of his eyes, and he thought that there was plenty of looks and personality to go around here. Wasn't that enough?
Maybe it was something else. He didn't know Ry at all, honestly, because they'd met all of ten minutes ago. The only thing they had in common as of this moment was the fact that both of them had been hurt.
"Ahh..." He sighed. "Same kinda thing, but in reverse. See, I met this guy online and I thought he was The One." Marc shot a Look over at Ry. "You know. We were talking about me flying out to see him and we made all these amazing plans. To get the money for the flight, I picked up a job and there was this super annoying guy in the group. Well. Turns out they were the same guy!"
It was some kind of prank on God's part, Marc just knew it. He knew it! How the hell could they work together this entire time and not know it?! He snorted at his own stupidity and kicked a stray rock, missing it completely.
"And... I think he knows. He knows I know. And he just... he stopped talking to me and he's been going out and picking up other guys and—just... I guess he doesn't want to. Be together. Anymore."
"...what?"
Ryland had a hard time following that for a moment. The guy he met online was also an annoying person at work? One and the same? He ran a hand through his hair. If the guy really knew the whole time, he was totally a scumbag and a creep. Nothing like Aldon! They weren't in the same boat after all. Somehow, that relieved Ryland for a moment--but only a moment. Then he remembered that Aldon rejected him in favor of somebody he met like a year ago. The burn came back.
"So let me get this straight... he stopped talking to you out of the blue? Both online and in real life?"
Ryland was going back to the creep part but then this part tripped him up. What, the jig was up so he stopped suddenly? Or was it something else? But still... going out and picking up other guys. Pretty unacceptable.
"Yeah! Well he--he never talked to me in real life, he always talked at me. Jackass. But after... yeah. He stopped responding. I tried to talk to him but he gave me one-word replies and... I mean it's obvious when the other person doesn't feel it, right? You know. You know they're not interested, it's not like they can hide it."
Marc scuffed a foot along the ground and made a furrow in passing. He stuffed his hands into his pockets because his fingers were getting cold--but not as cold as his heart had grown. It wasn't like he was The Most Annoying Guy On Earth. Their personalities clashed on the job, that was all. Marc didn't know why suddenly he wasn't worth the time of day, when Namgi confessed to loving him. Repeatedly.
"...I wanted to make it work. I wanted it so bad. I tried being nice to him at work, too, but it just made things more awkward."
He broke off and roughly rubbed a hand over his eyes to mitigate the sting behind them. There was nothing like rejection to put a guy in his place. To really make him feel small and insignificant and unimportant. Unwanted. That was one of the worst feelings in the world, Marc thought.
"At least your guy... he wanted you. In some weird triangle relationship." Marc looked over at Ry. "I was in one, too. Before I met Namgi. It's not for everybody and it gets complicated really quickly. I don't think you're wrong to feel like you do, just so you know."
From where Ryland was standing, it sure sounded like that guy didn't love him anymore. Maybe he only loved the idea of him as he knew from the computer correspondence. And he didn't love the person he was working with. Or maybe he had trouble expressing himself. Ryland had worked with that before and it was no fun. If he had any advice for Marc in regards to all this, he thought it was that he was better off without a guy like that. Guys who couldn't express themselves were just trouble. Guys like that toyed with your heart and ended up battering it in the process. Now Marc would have a hard time trusting anybody romantically and it was because he trusted somebody with his heart and he dropped it.
Ryland bit his lower lip.
Marc still had things to let out so he allowed that to take its course, to let Marc express himself. Ryland wasn't sure he should be telling anybody what to do romantically, anyway. What he didn't expect was the topic to turn back to the poly relationship deal. Ryland looked up and over at Marc, who was looking at him.
"I..." He didn't know what to say to that. But somehow, it did reassure him because since the breakup, Ryland felt somehow as if he were in the wrong. He bet Alva would have told him that was just how it worked with Aldon. Ryland always ended up feeling guilty over what Aldon did. Maybe he was right in not giving in this time.
"Yeah," he said finally after a moment's silence. "Yeah, you're right. I guess all this time, I've been thinking that I'm the one in the wrong. But... maybe neither of us are."
He was silent a moment longer before adding, "I think you should try and talk to your... to Namgi, if you can. At least to clear the air. You'll feel better once you have a clear answer from him."
"Sometimes people want different things," Marc sighed. "It doesn't mean anybody has to be wrong or right. But... I guess sometimes it also doesn't work out, no matter how much you love each other."
That seemed to apply to both of them differently, he thought. Love was such a bastard. It could bring people to the heavens one moment, and then drag them down to hell--all the way down to the lowest of the low. And yet, people still wanted it. They wanted to love, to feel loved.
Marc sighed again and slung an arm around Ry's shoulders. "Yeah," he said as he marched down towards the liquor store. "I'll try again. I tried before but I guess one more time wouldn't hurt. What about you? Are you gonna cut ties forever with your guy?"
"Maybe it'll work out," Ryland said. If it couldn't hurt, maybe it could help. Maybe the two would talk and clear things up. At least one of them could try and work things out. Ryland didn't think he had that option because Aldon was adamant about keeping Gregg and Ryland was equally adamant about not getting involved in some triangle. To him, it seemed nothing but trouble, especially since he was actually a rather possessive person deep down. Jealous... he wasn't sure. But he hurt a lot, thinking of Aldon with somebody else.
"I don't know about forever," he said. Forever was a long time. There were times where he and Aldon were friends while Ryland dated other people. But... it inevitably ended with Ryland and Aldon back together. That was the part Ryland didn't understand. Aldon... he never could stand to see Ryland with other guys. He was always so happy when Ryland broke up with those guys to be with him. Him alone. So it baffled him how he could think Ryland could be any different.
Maybe Ryland misread him all those times. Maybe... maybe he was placing his own feelings onto Aldon. The guilt of going behind somebody's back for Aldon ate him up. That was why he ended up breaking up with the other guys. But... when he really thought about it, it wasn't as if Aldon had told him to do it. Did he really not care? If Ryland was in love with somebody else?
"But I definitely can't see him for a while. It just hurts too much."
Ry needed time to disconnect and to work through his feelings, and rightly so. Making rushed decisions wasn't good for anybody, especially not at the height of hurt. Marc knew that all too well—how hurt could make people lash out, make them want to hurt others. It never worked, though; the pain wasn't going away through any act of revenge.
He didn't know anything about Ry's guy, so he couldn't say what would happen. And Ry didn't know Namgi, either, although... neither did Marc apparently. He grinned a small, wry grin and steered Ry into the liquor store.
"C'mon. More booze!"
Inside, he grabbed onto the first two bottles he saw and swung them off the shelf. "Lemme get this. I just got paid, so." He was going to use that money to fly out to see his boyfriend, but he supposed that he didn't need it anymore. Marc's grip on the bottles tightened; he wanted to start gulping them down right then and there.
"You want anything else, bring 'em to the cashier. I'm gonna pay for these first." He veered off to pay for the bottles—and got carded, which drew a grimace. Marc had to search for his driver's license and the guy still gave him a suspicious look, but let him purchase the booze anyway. Then and there, he popped the cap of one and started guzzling it down.
In Ryland's current state, he wasn't terribly picky about what he drank. So he walked up and down the aisles, lifting bottles, inspecting them, rejecting them, and moving on until he had a handful himself. Bringing them up front to get paid for, he also side eyed Marc, who somehow passed being carded. He looked young, now that Ryland gave him a real look. But that didn't much matter, did it? His age. Age could be so deceptive in a world full of vampires and such.
"Let's go," Ryland said, clutching his bottles as if they were going to be stolen from him. He wasn't sure where they were going next. The park, he thought, but then... There was a reason they left it and it didn't just have to do with the fact that it was abandoned and darkness was falling.
"Do you live near here?" Ryland asked. "If not, I think I'm calling Lyft..."
"Um. My place." Marc was working his way through the bottle and it was going to his head. He swayed a little as he tried to think about where they were in relation to his apartment. A temporary place of residence, really, that he rented month to month in the hopes that the job would finish up... and he could go fly out to his love.
Fat chance of that happening now though.
"Yeah it's like. Down that way." He waved a hand in an arbitrary direction. "Just uh. Call the Lyft maybe. And we can go. I live alone so it's fine."
"All right..." Ryland slowly walked down the path down to where there was a little old wrought iron bench with wooden slats for seats. It wasn't comfortable but he sat down and pulled out his phone. Lately, he wasn't that excited when he heard his phone go off. He knew it wasn't going to be Aldon. And if it was, it would just be more heartache. Sighing, he pulled Lyft up quickly since they were right there in the front page of apps.
Once he got one confirmed, he set his phone down on his knee and looked up at Marc.
"You're already hitting the bottle harder than me," he mused. Ryland was just a bit tipsy at this point. When Marc found him, he had been slowly drinking his way through a bottle, nursing his melancholy and maybe wallowing a bit. Ugh, he hated wallowing. Normally Aldon was the wallower. Ryland frowned and looked down.
"You're not looking for something... are you?" He peered up again. "From me... I mean."
BOOZE
It did what it was supposed to—make him a little numb, sheltered him a bit from the harsh reality of... reality. Eh. Thoughts didn't filter through so easily with half a bottle in him, he had to admit. A little drunkenly, he sat down heavily beside Ry and set the bottle down between them in case Ry felt like taking a swig.
"What?" Marc laughed a little louder than he meant to. "Like—like hook up?"
Man. If only. If ONLY he was that type. It would've made this whole affair easier to swallow, actually, if he knew what drove Namgi to sleep with those other guys. Marc had never done IT before. He'd been touched, and he'd touched another, but actual sex didn't happen.
In his 'open' relationship, it was more of an emotional connection type deal and less of a sexual thing. Before that developed into anything physical, things got complicated and it all fell apart. In that aspect, he thought that Ry was much better off not dabbling in that whole three-person relationship thing.
Sadly, he looked down at his phone. He'd sorta tried talking to Namgi, off and on. Drunkenly. No time like the present, right? Plus, Ry told him he should try one more time—probably while sober but meh. Sober Marc might not be brave enough to try.
"Are you?" He looked up at Ry curiously. Ry was so good-looking that it was impossible to imagine anybody ditching him. Looks weren't everything, but... man. That other guy really didn't know a good thing when he saw it.
HAHA. Yes, a hookup. Maybe. Ryland didn't know. They were drinking together, they were both recently single, they were both in the dumps about their exes, and they were both consenting adults. So... why not? Ryland wanted the companionship of another warm body. Maybe that was why he didn't stay single for very long, no matter how often he and Aldon split up and got back together again. It was the same old cycle replaying itself only this time, he knew it wasn't going to. Not this time. Things were different. Now it was Aldon off with somebody else but it wasn't just some hookup.
Aldon was in love with somebody else.
And it hurt so much to realize it. With every breath he took, it rasped in his heart, it tore another layer away from his oh-so-cool facade. Look at him. Hanging out in old playgrounds nowhere near where he lived in downtown Hazleton. No, he was in a place where he'd played as a child, back before the weeds choked the life out of everything, before the rust paralyzed everything that once moved.
The playground was Ryland. That was what it felt like, when he was lying there alone with that bottle. Now he wasn't so alone. But the laugh. It sounded like a mockery and Ryland felt his face burn.
"Never mind," he said, brushing it off. He was in no mood to let somebody he barely knew even try to chip away at what was left of his heart. No way was he going out on a limb for him. Haha... so funny. Hook ups. When did he become so pathetic, anyway?
"There's the Lyft now," he said, indicating a red truck coming down the path. He grabbed his drinks and made sure Marc had his too. "Your place, right?"
Marc laughed because it shocked him to think that Ry wanted to hook up—HOOK UP—with him, a stranger he'd met all of about twenty minutes ago. That seemed like the kinda silly decision only a drunk person in a lot of pain would make. Like when Marc got drunk and decided that he wanted to order and then eat two whole pizzas and a side of chicken strips and fries, only to end up puking everything out an hour later. Like that kind of terrible decision.
He saw the way that Ry's face fell and felt badly, but by then the Lyft had arrived and he was busy scrambling into the back of the truck with Ry. After giving the driver his address, they rumbled off and Marc looked over at Ry again. A little hesitantly, he shifted closer and curled an arm through Ry's arm.
"I've never... hooked up with anybody before," he confided in a whisper, resting his chin on Ry's shoulder. Marc knew that Ry wouldn't judge him. And he was tipsy, too, so the lips were looser and there were no inhibitions to tell him to shut the heck up about his lack of experience. At least he wasn't telling all of this to the Lyft guy!
"I was saving... you know, IT... for somebody I love. For Namgi I guess. And I dunno... people hook up all the time. Namgi said he only did it cause he wanted someone to sleep with and they didn't mean anything but that's... I'd be okay with it if he loved the other guy... I think." Marc turned his head so that his cheek nuzzled Ry's shoulder.
"They didn't even mean anything..." That part hurt the most. Something so valuable and meaningful couldn't be thrown around like that, he thought. Maybe Namgi was right—maybe he was old-fashioned and antiquated (heh) but he couldn't help the way he felt. Love was in short supply while he was growing up, so he held it in higher esteem than most. And having found it, it meant a lot more to Marc; he didn't want to take it for granted.
Ry was precious too. Too precious to be throwing himself at just anybody, just on a whim, without knowing them or liking them beyond the physical attraction. That didn't sound fulfilling—it wasn't a replacement for the relationship and the love that he'd lost. That was the two pizzas and chicken strips and fries, the "it seemed like a good idea at the time" talking.
"I'm not saying... it'd be wasted on you though. You're—you look like you coulda stepped out of a magazine. You're the kinda guy I might fall in love with if we spent enough time togther, I think." He squeezed Ry's arm with his hands, gently. "But I... I still love him. You know? I'm SUPER mad, but I still love him and maybe if I wait it out a little bit longer... and-and if I stand my ground, he might change his mind."
Absently, a flash of movement outside the window caught his eye. An RV streaked past—well, streaked was an exaggeration, it sort of lumbered in and out of view. Who would be rumbling into town this late at night, Marc thought. He watched it rolling out of sight, and caught a momentary glimpse of a pale face peering out anxiously from a small round side window.
"Hm..." Ryland believed him, about not hooking up before. Marc didn't look like the type. Maybe Ryland didn't either, he didn't know how others perceived him. But he'd only hooked up a handful of times. As in, he could count the number of times on one hand. But they still happened. And there were still the short-lived relationships where Ryland searched for what he'd lost with Aldon, only to have Aldon come rudely coming back, somehow. Some way. He always seemed to uproot everything Ryland knew and throw it all into disarray. He was right, he thought, in telling him goodbye for good this time. Alva probably would have agreed. Yoojin, too.
Ryland hadn't said much about anything to anybody though. Talking about it was like admitting it was true, that it really happened and some part of him wanted it to remain an awful nightmare.
"Didn't mean anything," Ryland echoed quietly, tilting his head slightly toward Marc and listening to him. It was kinda admirable that Marc held onto his virginity so that it would be special. He was right; too many people just hooked up. But that was their prerogative and Ryland wasn't one to condemn somebody else's choices when they didn't impact him. It was just kind of sad, sometimes, when he slowed down enough to think about it.
Sex was sex, though. Sex and love... They got so tangled up sometimes. But they really weren't the same thing at all, were they? It was difficult to feel anything when there was no chemistry, no spark, no love there. Affection was important to the process, so he thought he understood where a guy like Marc was coming from.
The squeeze on his arm made him crack a smile, as if Marc was trying to assure him he was lovable. Ryland looked at him and lightly touched the top of Marc's head.
"It's okay. I get it. But... what part are you trying to change his mind about? Do you think he's going to keep sleeping with other guys while he's in a relationship with you?"
"Yeah," Marc admitted softly, nodding. "I don't know. I don't know him. I thought I did, and I assumed he'd wait for me like I waited for him, but he's... not that kind of person."
This was why long-distance relationships didn't always work out. They met online and fell in love with the online version of each other, but that version wasn't true to life. In reality, in the workplace, they clashed horribly. Their personalities and viewpoints didn't match up.
It was too easy to portray himself a certain way online, too. Marc wanted Namgi to know the best of himself, without telling him about the worst. The same applied in reverse, probably. He saw so much that he loved--thought he loved.
It wasn't a total wash-out, though. It wasn't impossible to salvage their relationship, but starting over felt almost tedious.
"He--he's coming over though! To my place." Marc buried his face in Ry's shoulder and clung to him. "Is that a bad idea? I feel like it's a bad idea. I dunno why I did it!" He muffled a scream. "Why'd I do it?!"
Ryland patted Marc's knee to console him, a half smile, half grimace on his face. Boy, did he know about getting romantically involved with somebody from online. It was a rather short lived thing and Ryland thought he loved him--that guy he met online--but once they actually met the chemistry actually lacked. Ryland tried but he couldn't seem to muster up the same feelings he had for the person he imagined the other man was. He wondered if Marc was going through something like that. A man that was everything he imagined but only turned out to be... well, real.
"Wait, what?" Ryland blinked a couple of times, a little shocked that Marc went from hating the guy and drinking to that hate to suddenly telling Ryland that the guy was coming over to his place. Ooh. Awkward.
"Oh," Ryland said. Maybe they were going to try and make up. Ryland bit his lower lip and lightly patted Marc's knee again. "No, no. It's not a bad idea. Maybe you guys will resolve everything once you're in person."
But now Ryland didn't really... want to be there, necessarily. That would just be weird.
"You do that, okay? We'll drop you off and I'll go on to my own place. I think... it would be weird for me to be there. It might cause problems, actually."
And maybe we won't resolve everything! Marc thought privately to himself, only he didn't say it because Ry was trying hard to be nice (after Marc laughed at him for the hook up thing). He wished that it was easy for him to jump straight to sex with somebody. He could've maybe gone for Ry.
There was something about him, something different from the rest of the guys that Marc knew. If he had to guess, Ry might have been one of them—one of the supernaturals. Marc knew all about them, of course; his best friend was a vampire and the tiny marks on his throat that he'd hidden with his jacket collar was testament to that.
He clung fervently to Ry's arm, as if Ry would leap out of the truck, do a roll onto the sidewalk and sprint off into the darkness. "But-but what if it's weird? What if I hate him again when we meet up?"
Granted, Namgi was a lot less abrasive when he was just... normal. When he spoke like a normal person—albeit an old grandpa normal person—instead of using that condescending TONE of his that Marc hated. The tone that suggested Marc was a piss-ant in the face of his superior knowledge.
"I need support!!"
"Trust me," Ryland said. "It'll be weird, but only for a little bit. Once you guys get past what's been bothering you both, things should smooth themselves out. If you both really care... love each other... trust me."
Look, he began his little chat with trust me--and ended it with the same thing. How could Marc help but trust him? Yes, trust the guy who couldn't even get his own love life under control... But he still felt like he had more experience than Marc and when it came to these awkward encounters, he had plenty of experience. Things would be weird while they untangled their emotions but once things smoothed over, they would be in love again and that would be the only part that mattered.
They were coming up to the address Marc had given and Ryland lightly tried to unhook Marc's hand from his arm.
"You'll be fine on your own, promise."
"But—" They were coming up to his apartment now and Marc was still nervously clutching onto Ry. He did trust Ry, funnily enough, despite knowing him for less than an hour. That didn't mean anything though, not when they had bonded over their mutual losses. (And in Marc's case, maybe a gain?)
He finally did let go, as the truck slowed. "At least—phone me when you get home okay? I wanna know you get back safe! And... let's hang out some other time! When we're not drunk." Marc cracked a nervous smile—not because he thought Ry would tell him to piss off, but because his anxiety at seeing Namgi alone seeped into every other emotion and thought.
After giving Ry his number, he leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thanks! For—everything! Don't forget, lemme know when you get home!" Marc pushed one of his bottles of booze at Ry, smiled nervously again and then waved him good-bye as the truck roared off into the night.
And then. He was alone. And he was dreading the moment when he opened the door of his apartment, but he couldn't run off, either. Marc took the stairs just to have time to settle himself down, and finally eased open his front door like he thought a bear might be lurking behind it, waiting to swipe at him.
Walking through the quiet apartment, Namgi's expression remained with eyebrows upward. If one saw the way he lived, it would be apparent why he looked at it in such horror. Namgi lived almost in a Spartan-like way. Minimalistic, they called it these days. Everything he owned could be accounted for and he knew exactly where to find anything that made its way into his humble apartment.
This... this was unacceptable. Even to walk through it. After a moment, Namgi began to pick things up. Was it so hard for this cup to find its way to the sink to be washed or this piece of trash to make it to the rubbish bin? Really. It was exasperating. Namgi mostly found this was a young person thing. Young people thought their time was so precious that they didn't want to "waste" it on mundane things like cleaning. Having lived as long as he had, Namgi could no longer understand that mindset, despite having lived there once.
He was in the kitchen washing dishes when he finally heard the click of the front door.
"Finally," Namgi muttered to himself before he called: "I'm in the kitchen!"
There was no bear, which was good. But there were Sounds coming from inside, which was unsettling. Marc ventured inside and toed off his shoes, laying them neatly down onto the shoe rack. His shoes were the only things that he took meticulous and obsessive care of. Like most young people his age, he collected them--the new releases, the name brands, the limited editions. It was a weird flex, maybe, but hey, he liked what he liked.
"...are you doing my dishes?" he asked as soon as he entered the kitchen. After having picked up around the apartment. It was... it was kinda creepy. Not in a bad way, just in a really unexpected way. Did the mess bother Namgi that much? Marc didn't think he was a pig, though. If Namgi could have seen the way that he grew up, in that tiny cramped trailer with his dad, he would've understood that this was clean for Marc.
"Um. I... I'll dry."
That was the only thing he could think of to do, aside from standing around and staring. Marc grabbed a dry dish towel from the handle of the oven door--yes, it doubled as a towel rack, sue him--and started swabbing a plate with it. "Soo..." He chanced a peek over at Namgi. This was the guy who used to resent him for existing. And now, Namgi was doing his dishes. Bizarre.
"You're a neat freak, huh?"
"Yes."
Wasn't it obvious? If they did plan to eat together here then they would need clean dishes to eat from. Or they could go out. Namgi was a homebody, though, although he did go out from time to time in order to find somebody to go home with. Or take home. And Marcus found out--didn't like it. Namgi mocked him for his antiquated views but really, he understood them, to an extent. As a child, Namgi had no choice. If he did, would he feel the same way Marcus did. Ah, the luxury of choice.
And surprisingly, it was Namgi that Marcus chose, even after all that had happened and everything he had learned. How did he not hate him by now? How was he not thoroughly disgusted?
"I wouldn't say I'm a neat freak. It's not some... compulsion. I just like to keep things tidy. Would that drive you crazy... Marcus? If we lived together?"
Marc had paper plates in one of the cupboards, but he didn't say anything because he didn't want to get judged for living like a frat boy--even though he lived like a frat boy. His array of cups and plates and bowls were all mismatched; he didn't pay attention when he bought things. As long as they served their purpose, that was good enough for him!
He grabbed a chipped blue mug--his favorite mug, as a matter of fact--and dried it carefully. While he did so, he thought hard about whether living with a neat freak--sorry, somebody who liked to tidy up--would make him want to climb up a wall. Not really. He'd lived with neat freaks--tidy uppers--before. His best friend was one of those types, actually, and they got along fine. Usually Marc didn't set out to turn the place into a pigsty. It happened when he was busy with work or when he was preoccupied with other areas of life.
"It wouldn't drive me crazy," he answered at last. "I'd just live in a neat house. Right?" Namgi would be the one living with a messy person, so if anyone minded, it might be him. Marc didn't even mind tidying up a bit once in a while, as long as he didn't need to account for every speck of dust that entered or left the premises.
"...and you can call me Marc." Marcus sounded so formal. He tried to think of how he could shorten Namgi's name but Nam... Gi... Neither of them sounded very good on their own. Nammy? That was too close to Nammer, though, which... yeah. It was pretty much a racial slur and Marc wasn't going there. Namgi it is...
Setting down his dried mug, he reached for a bowl next. Marc darted another look over at Namgi, wondering what he was thinking, why he really came out here. It didn't seem like Namgi was short on people to sleep with, if he just wanted to satisfy that itch. He said that Marc had no idea what it was like because he was a virgin, but... Marc didn't need to. He did know what it was like to want someone so badly that not being with them felt like a chunk of his heart was torn out. Sex was good, it was great, but it had nothing on the feeling of loving someone. Sex satisfied the body but love fed the soul.
Then again, Marc was still young; his views on love might have been naive. Namgi was young too, though. How could he talk like he was already so jaded, when there was only a few years' difference between them?
"I'll only live with you if we can get a dog though." He half-grinned, thinking of the big wooly golden retriever that he used to play with as a kid. Marc nudged Namgi playfully with his elbow. This didn't have to be awkward, did it? Nah. They were just doing chores together, no big deal. (Thank god for being tipsy though.) "Then I won't be the messiest one."
"What's wrong with Marcus?" he asked with a brow slightly raised. He liked Marcus. Well the name. And the person, once he got past the fact that he had been absolutely driven mad by him as a co-worker. How had he not connected the dots earlier? It seemed as if Marcus had caught on much earlier and it made Namgi feel like a fool. He should have been able to see what Marcus did. What did that say about the two of them?
That we've lived very different lives. Marcus was looking for something deeper, something like love. Namgi wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. Originally, when he and Marcus hit it off, he thought they would just be another hit and run situation. Namgi had grown used to one night excursions. His body was young, his mind was still on the lewd side. He needed--wanted--sex and he enjoyed it, especially in this newfound world where he could do it without threat of being beaten by a tire iron when he left a club.
And Marcus was so young and naive. He had stars in his eyes when he talked about that something special. It was attractive but it was also... Namgi didn't know. Part of him wanted it. Part of him thought they weren't seeing eye to eye just yet on where they stood. Plus, although Namgi felt as if he'd done nothing wrong by sleeping with other men, looking Marcus in the eye was difficult now. It felt like he'd betrayed his trust somehow.
"A dog!" He looked over at Marcus, trying to gauge whether he was joking or not. "It's going to take a lot more convincing for that to happen..."
"Nothing, it's just... My mom calls me that when I'm in trouble."
Marcus was sorta stuffy, too. It was an adult name for someone who wasn't quite an adult yet. Marc was on the verge of adulthood but there wasn't much of a difference between 19 and 20 years of age, really.
He knew that he was immature in a lot of ways; that was probably why he and Namgi didn't hit it off immediately. Namgi was a little old man. He had a way of speaking like a grandpa and sometimes his views seemed hopelessly old-fashioned compared to Marc's.
And yet, where it came to sex, it was Marc who stuck to old ways and Namgi who seemed open to exploration. Marc lowered his head slightly as he inspected his bowl. He'd been thinking about it a lot--the sleeping with other people business. And he thought that he got it now, as he stood with Namgi side-by-side, in the same room together.
Loving someone through a screen wasn't the same as loving them in person. The feelings that he felt were genuine but they were like an imitation of what he was beginning to feel now. Just standing beside Namgi, hearing his voice, it... did something to his insides. Marc was always attracted to him, no doubt about that, but now knowing that he was also his lover online awakened a new sense of excitement inside.
And, well, maybe Namgi felt that way too--about sleeping with other people. He could touch them. Feel them. See them, hear them, be excited to be with them, even physically. There was no way to replicate all of that through a text message.
Marc lowered the bowl and turned to Namgi. "You said we could get a puppy!" He stepped closer. "You said... we could... if we ever became a couple." Stupidly he latched onto Namgi's sleeve, like a dumb kid in front of his crush who didn't know what to do with his hands and feet. "Does this mean... you don't want to...?"
Marcus was a perfectly acceptable name in Namgi's eyes. Marcus, Marc. At least he wasn't insisting he be called Marcy. That... was just too awkward and cringey now that he thought more about it. Namgi had always been Namgi, and it was rather an old fashioned name to go with an "old soul" like himself. Maybe over time, he should have changed his name. He was so accustomed to his old name that he wasn't sure he'd even respond to anything else. Maybe. Over time.
Silence seemed to overtake them as they finished up the dishes. There weren't that many, actually. Despite the way Namgi reacted when he entered, the place was merely a bachelor pad, it wasn't a total pigsty. At least, it wasn't as far as dirty dishes went. Switching off the tap, he turned to look at Marcus, who was now pressing against him and looking at him with a beseeching expression on his face.
"I didn't say that. I just meant getting a pet together means we're committed." And was that what they wanted? Both of them? Namgi wouldn't mind; he had time enough to explore this relationship further with Marcus. He just... he just assumed that after the hurt Marcus displayed that he was going to write Namgi off as a disloyal pervert. But he seemed to have no issues with being close to him.
"Do you want to commit to somebody you haven't really kissed yet?" he asked, tone teasing, although their faces were certainly close enough to remedy that problem. "Somebody you haven't been to bed with yet?"
"...I committed to you when I didn't even know what you looked like."
Kissing Namgi and going to bed with him meant that they were committed to each other for real, though. It meant no more going out to pick up guys at bars and clubs for Namgi. Marc couldn't handle it when they were only online dating, and he certainly now saw where Ry was coming from, with his situation.
And for Marc? It meant putting aside his own hurt and letting those awful wounds (mostly self-inflicted, it must be said) heal. It meant not playing the blame game, as tempting as that was. Their wires had gotten crossed, that was all. No one brought up the topic of sex in definite terms--Marc took it for granted that Namgi would wait for him without confirming that it would be true.
Painfully aware of their closeness, he felt his heart thumping forcefully in his chest. He lifted his gaze to Namgi's, staring at him for long moments as longing crept over him. This could be a big mistake, he was aware of that. His virginity was special to him; was it special to Namgi? Namgi didn't see it the way that Marc saw it, but then again, Namgi had a tragic past. It wasn't his fault that he'd been forced to give it away before he realized the significance of it.
Marc leaned in. He didn't kiss Namgi but he did press their foreheads together, closing his eyes to block out the image of Namgi's face up close. Not because he was ugly--because he was here, at last, in the flesh and larger than life. Because looking at him too long made Marc feel nervous and young and all-too-inexperienced.
"Do you want... would you... sleep with me?"
This was true. Marcus had committed himself from the start. He didn't let the fact that they were supposedly in a long distance relationship stand in their way the way Namgi did. But then, Namgi had lived a lot longer than starry eyed Marcus. He had learned to build the wall around himself, to keep people from invading when he didn't want them to know anything about him. Rebuffing people was vastly easier than letting them in. Teaching them where his vital points and vulnerabilities were just seemed like a risk he was no longer so willing to take.
He couldn't tell Marcus that, though. Marcus didn't know how old he really was; he just assumed they were around the same age, that they had similar life experiences. Marcus didn't know that Namgi had been around the block several extra times in comparison to Marcus and it made him this way--jaded, unimpressed, a bit lacking in the hope department.
It was easy to forget all that when those starry eyes were on him, staring, searching, looking for... something. Namgi felt like he was doing the same: searching. He wondered if they were seeing the same things or what they saw reflected in one another's eyes. Namgi saw somebody willing to try. Somebody hopeful. Somebody naive, really. Namgi could have chewed him up and spat him out. It was hard to believe just how naive a person could really be but people managed to surprise him everyday.
"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, taking Marcus' chin in his hand. "Honestly... I think part of my frustration with you before I knew who you really were..." He laughed. "Well..."
Damn.
Damn damn damn.
If only Marc hadn't insisted on having that special mind-blowing first meeting with Namgi, they could have gotten together a LONG time ago. And maybe none of that nonsense with the clubs and the other partners would have happened. Namgi might have stuck it out with him and Marc would've had a hell of a better time at work.
It was that naive, young, starry-eyed part of him that wanted their first time to be special, though. In his mind, he would have flown out to meet Namgi; they would've locked eyes from across a crowded... airport? Maybe? But they would've known each other on sight because he believed--he truly did then and he did now--that they were soul mates.
Instead, they locked horns. They clashed horribly at every possible opportunity and in the end, Namgi became the love of his young life and his worst enemy all rolled into one. Marc sighed, ruing his own silly fantasies. But when he looked at Namgi, into his dark eyes, it was hard to remember the bad times. It was difficult to think of him as that arrogant, condescending man from work who snubbed Marc's contributions to the team every chance he got. Marc made a thoughtful noise, chin held in Namgi's hand, eyes on him, enraptured and falling, falling, feeling the excitement and the giddy anticipation.
"Your frustration before..." he started hesitantly, trying to work out what Namgi meant. Namgi wanted to sleep with him. Did he want to sleep with Marc... before? Before he knew Marc was his online boyfriend? All this time, part of the frustration came from wanting him? But that Marc was this Marc! The person he wanted was the one he could have had--without feeling guilty, even!
"Oh." It dawned on him and he didn't know what to say to that. Marc had always thought that Namgi was intensely attractive. He was true to the man he loved online but he could admit that he found Namgi... sexy, actually. He grinned. "Oh my god." It was funny! It was also flattering! It really was and it made him feel like a big giant bubble, floating up, up and away. Before he knew what he was doing, his lips--still smiling--were on Namgi's. His arms were sliding around his waist and his body was pressing in eagerly close.
Damnit. If only he hadn't been such a fool.
Oh. Oh. Namgi watched the realization dawn on Marcus' face and he half smiled. Yeah. Frustrated, irritated, annoyed with the increasingly bratty kid who had first seemed cute and then started to really get to him. Meanwhile, he had such a close intimate relationship with the guy on the internet. Oh, they could tell one another anything. If only Namgi knew the two were one and the same. He had a feeling Marcus was kicking himself for it, too.
Not right this second, though. No, right this second, he was smiling like the sun shone just for him before leaping forward and throwing himself on Namgi and kissing him.
Well now. This was more like it. This was the kind of old fashioned romantic gesture that Namgi could definitely get behind. His smile grew before he kissed Marcus back, arms winding around him to keep him close. A couple of kisses later and a familiar pounding in the chest and a warmth flushed over his chest and up his neck. He couldn't stop smiling now, despite his usual "grumpy" demeanor. (So-called, thanks.)
"I think we were both... acting foolish," he admitted, his way of apologizing for how his actions had attributed to the misunderstandings between them.
Acting foolish.
Siiigh.
"I love it when you talk like a little old grandpa," Marc laughed as he nuzzled Namgi cheek to cheek. Being so close to him and not knowing it was unbearable. The thought of letting go of him now was unbearable. The way that Marc's heart pounded at the sound of his voice, at the sight of a smile on that usually frowny grumpy face (so-called by Marc, to his face as well as behind his back)--it was so unbearably charming and endearing.
But he got it. Namgi had regrets for 'acting foolish.' Marc was just downright humiliated at the thought of being so close to Namgi and never knowing it. Then, for assuming that Namgi knew what was up. THEN, for being mad at him for not knowing what the problem was, going on a bender, yelling and kicking things in the woods and... Acting foolish wasn't exactly the right term for it, really.
More like being really, really fucking dumb.
"Sooo..." Marc's lips grazed Namgi's jaw affectionately. He was so different from anyone that Marc had ever known. The maturity was part of his appeal, though. The fact that he wanted to be with someone who was still a long ways from being an adult was a little awe-inspiring and a bit intimidating, truth be told. Marc felt a little out of his depth.
"The booze is in the living room, there's lots of it to go around..."
Grinning, he pulled Namgi into the living room by the hand and sat himself down on the loveseat. Marc always grumbled that it was a little narrow but now, he couldn't even complain. Cozy—it was cozy. And squished in together with Namgi, he felt bubbly and happy and as the booze went down easier and easier, Marc felt bubblier and happier. And sleepier. And sleepier. Marc rested his head against Namgi's shoulder briefly, intending only to rest his eyes—and embarrassingly, fell completely asleep.