Bittersweet Lies

Chapter 1

I stare blankly at the ceiling as I lay on Daphne's guest room bed, chain smoking. So much for breaking that habit! It's the only real pleasure I have left at the moment aside from my art -- okay, even I can admit that that was a drama princess thing to say, and it's not entirely true, but the point is, I'm fucked up -- everything is fucked up, and I find it's unavoidable to do much of anything lately other than wonder how the hell I got myself to this point. Things had really been looking up, and it was just a few weeks ago that I was finally starting to believe that things were going to be okay.

Everything just seemed to be falling into place. Ethan was ecstatic that he'd gotten himself represented and had booked some actual gigs. Yeah, his asshole agent said Ethan had to be "straight" and that he and I had to hide our relationship, which I wasn't too happy about... but it was his career, and I wouldn't ever have asked him to sacrifice that for me, so I went along with it -- even though I really resented the fact that I had to be his "cousin" when we were in public and wasn't allowed to go to his concerts. I still can't figure that one out... if I was supposed to be Ethan's "cousin", what the hell was wrong with me showing up to see him perform? It made no sense to me then -- and still doesn't.

Aside from all that though, things had been good. School had been going great. I'd just made the Dean's list, and despite the lesser but still-present problems with my hand, my art had taken a turn for the better, and I'd even impressed my professors and peers and had been asked to hang some of my work up in more student art shows.

Ethan and I didn't have a lot of money or live as luxuriously as I'd been accustomed to while growing up, or when I lived with Brian -- but hey, at least we had each other, right? Well... and Wolfram. I didn't need material things to be happy. What I needed, was to feel worthy of being loved. I knew there was no guarantee that I would find what I was looking for in Ethan, but I was determined to at least try. Ethan had told me he loved me before I left Brian, and though I wasn't sure I actually believed him, it struck a nerve. This person who had been in my life only a few short weeks had made me feel more alive, more cared for, more special than I had in the past couple of months. It felt so damn good, and I didn't want to let it go. In the meantime, it seemed like Brian was growing more and more distant, and our communication had definitely been dissipating. Not that it had ever really been good, but I could feel Brian closing off from me more than usual, and whenever I tried to get him to talk about whatever was bothering him, it always ended up making him angry or defensive and he'd usually take off to Babylon or wherever the fuck, and I'd end up alone, restlessly waiting for him in our bed, knowing that when he finally returned he'd smell of booze and sex and would likely pass out on the bed next to me. And of course, it was a given that none of it would be discussed the next day. It was usually those times that I'd swear to myself that the next time he put his hands all over me that I'd tell him to fuck off -- but I never did. I'd never been able to resist Brian. Not when I was too tired, or had too much shit to do, or had somewhere else to be -- and certainly not when I was pissed off at him. Not for any reason. Because the only way Brian and I were good at "communicating" was by physically expressing it. That was the way it had always been, and it was the way it had to remain if I wanted to stay in the game. After a while though, it got to the point where I'd started to feel that regardless of how well I played, I still came out the loser.

When I was with Ethan, things just seemed so much simpler. He was an open book. Not only could he elegantly express himself with his music, and the way he made love, but also with words. I never had to guess what he was thinking. I didn't have to walk on eggshells around him. If I wanted to know something, I'd ask, and he'd tell me. It was as simple as that. And it was nice.

I half expected it to have been difficult to leave behind the lifestyle I'd been living for the past year and a half, after I'd made the decision to be with Ethan, but surprisingly, it wasn't. The "group activities" I'd been used to doing with Brian weren't exactly things I'd wanted to do -- at least not all the time. I mean, yeah, they could be fun, and sometimes exciting, but I was most happy when Brian and I ended up going home together... alone, just the two of us. Sometimes Brian was okay with that, but more times than not, if I didn't want to hook up with other guys with him, he'd tell me to go on home without him and to not wait up. I hated doing that, though. In the back of my mind I was always worried that someone would try to hurt Brian or take advantage of him in his alcoholic or drug induced state. So most of the time even if I didn't want to trick, I did anyway. I always told myself it was better safe than sorry.

With Ethan, I didn't have to worry about that. There was no group sex, no Babylon, no Woody's, and no Liberty Baths. Also, no drugs, and I even quit smoking (per Ethan's request).

There were lots of floor picnics and wine and dark chocolate. Sometimes I'd wake up to violin music -- or even better, a blow job. Sometimes I'd wake up to violin music, then a blow job. Sometimes I'd blow him while he played violin music. All in all, there was a lot of blowing and a lot of violin music.

We didn't have mind-blowing, dirty, intense, sex... but it was meaningful and nice, and it was... lovemaking. We were equals in the bedroom, though at some point during the relationship it had just sort of happened that I'd started topping more regularly than bottoming with Ethan, and he certainly didn't have any complaints where that was concerned, so that's just the way it was most of the time.

I still thought about Brian. Usually it would be the little things that would remind me of him; an article in the business section of the newspaper that I knew he'd be interested in, or a song on the radio that he'd made endless fun of and mocked me for liking; an ad in a magazine for Brown Athletics; any mention of Prada or Gucci...

Sometimes when Ethan was out for the evening playing his violin for cash, I'd lay in bed and wonder what Brian was doing. Was he at Babylon or shooting pool at Woody's? Was he fucking a trick in the back room or at the loft? Was he hanging out over at Deb's with Michael and Ben? Over at Lindsay's playing with Gus? I even had the urge to pick up my cell and dial him sometimes, but of course I never did; there was nothing left for us to say.

At some point though, I realized it wasn't doing me any good to still obsess over Brian, and would be impossible to move on if I couldn't let go of what I'd had in the past, so I tried harder not to miss him or think of him, and pushed myself to concentrate on my current life and surroundings. And it worked for the most part. For the first time in my life, I'd finally started to feel like I had gained some control over my life, which is what I had been working towards; had been wanting, craving, needing, because if I couldn't achieve that, I was doomed to be helpless and needy and dependent, forever. I'd spent far too much time letting people take care of me over the years, and now I was making it on my own, with little help from others. It felt good. It wasn't easy, but it felt damn good.

Then it all just had to fucking crash down on me. I'm sure Brian will be laughing his ass off once he finds out through the gossip queens about Ethan and I. I'm sure he'll be tickled pink that I only proved his theories true on love and relationships.

Well, congratulations, Mr. Kinney! How does it feel to be right? I laugh bitterly to myself.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock.

"Yeah," I yell out.

Daphne pokes her head in the door and gives me a sympathetic smile. "Hey."

I'm immediately annoyed by that fucking look. The look of pity. "God, Daph, don't look at me that way."

"What way?"

"You know, like, 'Your dog just got run over by a fucking garbage truck and I don't know how to tell you,' kind of way."

Daphne comes into the room and sits on the bed next to me. "Sorry. It's just... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I'm well aware of my shitty predicament at the moment and all events surrounding it, thanks." I suck hard on the filter of my cigarette. It's almost all the way down to a butt, and I feel a burn in my throat right before exhaling.

"Justin, Ethan is a total shithead. To spend any time thinking about him is a waste of brain cells."

I raise a brow at her. "It's kind of hard not to think about him given what he did."

She nods in acknowledgment. "So he betrayed you; he lied; he's a colossal asshole... but it's over. Forget him."

Yeah, easy for her to say!

"God, I just feel like such a fucking idiot! I was with him because I thought he was going to give me what I wanted. What a joke. I fucking left Brian for him because I believed that I'd be happier. All I ended up doing was fucking everything up. God! Do you know how humiliated I feel right now?"

"I know," Daphne says, lightly patting my shoulder.

"You're doing it again," I tell her in a warning voice.

"Sorry," she says quickly and removes her sympathetic hand off my shoulder. "So... what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I just thought that maybe since it didn't work out with Ethan that you would want to talk to Brian..."

"Yeah, and rub some salt in the wound? Why the fuck would I talk to him about it? He'll find out sooner or later through the gay grape vine anyway," I huff.

"No, I just meant that I thought you might want to see if you could patch things up with him," Daphne says like it's the most natural logic in the world.

I give her a look that says she's lost her mind. "No fucking way, Daph. I couldn't do that."

"Why not?"

"It --" I suddenly picture myself at the loft begging Brian for his forgiveness only to have him laugh and slam the door in my face. "It's just not going to happen," I sigh.

"Why not?" she asks again with a frown. "You know, the Justin I know would have already been figuring out a plan to get Brian back."

"Yeah, well, I'm not that same little starry-eyed twink who's going to stalk the stud of Liberty Avenue because I think we're destined to be together forever. Things have changed... I've changed."

"Yeah, no shit," Daphne says under her breath, causing me to frown at her. "All I'm saying is you two really had something special going on. And... he loved you too, Justin," she says. I roll my eyes at her.

"He never loved me, Daph."

"Yes, he did. I know he never said the words, but God, Justin, it was so obvious! Think about everything he's done for you! He wouldn't have done those things for someone he didn't love."

I look at her sharply. "If he loved me, then why did he make me leave?"

Daphne give me a confused look. "What are you talking about? You left him."

I shake my head at her. "I'm not a fucking idiot, I know exactly what he did -- he pushed me off a fucking cliff just like he did with Michael. So, yeah, I left, but he did exactly what he knew would push me to leave. To me, that's practically the same as shoving me out the door and slamming it in my face."

"I think he let you go because he loved you. He wanted you to be happy, even if it had to be with someone else."

Fuck! I really don't want to listen to this. I don't want to think about Brian loving me, because it just makes it harder. Makes me hate myself more for betraying him, and -- for not believing in him or us.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore. It's over."

"Justin..."

"Just drop it, Daph. He's ancient history."

She sighs. "So, what are you going to do then?"

I shrug. "Nothing. Move on with my life, I guess," I tell her, stubbing out my cigarette butt and immediately lighting another. It was my last one in the pack, so I throw the empty Marlboro box towards the trash can, and it misses and lands on the floor.

"You know, smoking an entire carton of cigarettes won't make you feel better," Daphne says.

"Yeah, well, I no longer have motivating sources to keep my hands and mouth busy," I say dryly. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to kill my lungs in peace." I exhale smoke in her direction, and she flips me off, and gets up to leave.

"O-kay, fine..." she says, throwing her hands up. "Let me know when you're done being a boring, moody, dickhead. Maybe then we can go out and do something fun instead of sitting here and listening to you feel sorry for yourself."

I look away and feel a wave of guilt hit me. Daphne has been nothing but great to me since I showed up at her door last week right after I'd left Ethan. I was such a fucking mess that night; my eyes bloodshot from crying, my voice hoarse from all the yelling and cursing I'd done, and my hands bloody and torn up from those fucking thorns on the roses Ethan's "fan boy" had brought him. Daphne had immediately rushed me to the bathroom to clean up, and didn't bombard me with any questions when it was apparent I wasn't ready to answer any. She just let me cry some more, as she treated my wounds, and then afterwards we cuddled up on the couch and watched Friends with the volume low until we fell asleep. The next morning over coffee and homemade blueberry waffles, I finally relayed the awful events of the previous evening. Of course Daphne cursed up a storm and offered to have her cousin Jamal (who happens to be a linebacker at Carnagie Melon) kick Ethan's ass for me, which I have to admit was a tempting offer. She really is the best.

"Hey, Daph..." I call out to her before she reaches the door. She turns around and looks at me.

"I really do appreciate you letting me stay here... and for everything else you've done."

"I know," she says, giving me a little smile.

I get up from the bed and walk over to her and give her a big hug, which she accepts. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Her smile widens. "Yeah, I do. I love you too... moody asshole." With that, she leaves the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I go back to the bed and get comfortable in the spot where I'd previously lain, the warmth from my body heat still present on the duvet.

I can't help but think about what Daphne had said about me talking to Brian, and feel a tightness in my chest at the thought.

"Ancient history," I repeat to myself quietly, and take another deep drag of my cigarette.

 

***
 

I spend the rest of the evening in Daphne's guest room, pondering the endless drama tale that is my life. I think about my relationship with Brian and try to recall when it started to rapidly go downhill. I think about being happy in the beginning -- well, that's not exactly right. I'm not even sure I was ever really happy or if I was just trying so hard to convince myself that I was. When I'd moved in with Brian after the bashing, I had barely been able to contain myself, I was so excited. Needless to say I was shocked when Brian had showed up at my mother's house on a Saturday morning and told me to pack up my stuff because I was going to be staying with him for a while. Mom was home, and I'd thought for sure she was going to try to prevent me from leaving or throw a bitch fit or something, but she didn't do anything -- which really surprised me, given the fact that she'd previously told Brian she didn't want him to be around me anymore. She did look upset, but didn't argue or try to fight the issue; just hugged me and said she'd help me gather up my things. At that point, I wasn't going to question it. The only thing that my mind processed at that moment was: "Brian's here to save me and he cares!"

In the Jeep on the way to the loft, once my excitement started to die down a bit and things had started to register in my mind, it occurred to me to question Brian. "Why are you doing this?" I'd asked. But when he danced around the question and made a lame joke, I'd decided to not push. I was just glad to be living with Brian again, and wanted to relish the warm, electrical, tingle from the satisfaction of knowing he wanted me around. Considering how hard I fought just to get Brian used to me and allowing me to stick around in his life, it had been unforeseeable that he was doing it at all... which is why when I found out that he had only taken me in after the bashing because my mother had asked him to -- because she couldn't "handle" me, it hurt. Really hurt. Because my fucking foolish school-boy romance fantasy that Brian loved me and had wanted to be my boyfriend and have me live with him happily ever after was just ridiculous! Who the hell was I kidding? This is Brian, we're talking about! I wanted to believe that he was sincere, but all I could think about was that he wouldn't have asked me to move in -- wouldn't have even considered it, if he didn't feel like he owed it to me. Out of guilt. That was the last thing I wanted! I mean, why couldn't he just want me there because it was what he wanted? And not just out of pity or obligation... but because I'm me.

That's when the rules came in. Oh, God, the rules. The fucking rules! That had to be the worst idea ever and I should have never asked him to agree to them. I don't know what I thought I was getting out of it by asking him to abide by them. It didn't change a fucking thing. The reality was -- and if I'm honest with myself, I'll admit that I wanted Brian all to myself. I wanted him to only want ME, and I wanted to be enough -- to be all that he wanted and needed. It became important to me to prove to myself and maybe other people as well, that I was special; that there was a difference between what Brian and I had from what he did with tricks. The rules didn't change the fact that he was still tricking or that it still hurt, though. I tried to be okay with it, I really did, and I think I even believed I was okay with it for a while -- especially when Brian came up with the whole "date night" thing. I'll be the first to admit that I was way into it at first. I had my pick of hot guys, and Brian being there with me of course made the experiences that much better. It was also on those occasions that I was able to have some level of authority, and could be a top. Not that I minded bottoming all the time for Brian -- I loved it; he loved it, and we both knew it, and there was never any doubt about that. It was more about us being equals. He was older, more experienced in life, made more money, owned his own loft and car. He was paying for everything -- our food, bills, entertainment, my tuition -- and I couldn't help but feel like I was so much smaller than him, and frankly, I wanted -- no, NEEDED to feel at least some kind of control in our relationship. Which was what I thought the rules would do for me. And at first it seemed to work. I liked being the only person Brian kissed, and I liked that I was the only one who was allowed to stay. But really, I was just fooling myself because the rules didn't change anything at all. I ended up being the one to break them all, and we still crashed and burned... and all because I wasn't willing to be honest with myself... or him. I was too afraid I'd lose him -- but I ended up losing him anyway.

My mind then starts to drift towards thoughts of Ethan, and how being with him was so different than being with Brian. Sometimes it was almost like being another person entirely when I was with him. Or maybe it was that when I was with Brian I was the person I thought he'd wanted me to be? At this point I have no fucking clue because somewhere along the way I lost sight of who I was and what I wanted.

Being with Ethan was different, but it had seemed like it was working pretty well. Sure, he could be a bit of a cornball, but mostly I didn't mind all that much. I figured that was just who he was. Besides, it was nice for a change to feel cherished, wanted, LOVED -- and admittedly, it was nice to actually hear it too, even if somewhere in the back of my mind I didn't fully believe it. We got along great, and aside from living in a shithole that he called an apartment, up until he cheated on me a week ago, things had been going great for us for these past six months.

I admit, moving in with Ethan was probably not the best idea, but I had limited choices at that time. I certainly didn't want to go back to living with my mother and Molly, and even if I had, it would have been too crowded since my mother's condo has only two bedrooms. I wasn't about to share a room with my pre-teen sister. Living with Debbie just wasn't an option, especially given the situation with Michael. I just didn't want to deal with any more of his fucking holier than thou bullshit and be forced to listen to how I'm the biggest asshole in the world because of what I did to his 'best friend'. Like I hadn't already told myself the same thing a million times -- I didn't need to hear it from him. I already have to deal with him when I'm working at the diner, and that's bad enough as it is. I didn't want to impose on Mel and Lindsay, so then that only left Daphne, but I couldn't live with her at the time because she'd already had a roommate plus the roommate's boyfriend living in her tiny apartment. Moving in with Ethan just seemed like the most logical thing to do -- and of course he assured me that everything would be great, how it would bring us closer together, and that I wouldn't regret it.

I'm not sure what I expected. We were far from being the perfect little couple -- but even I wasn't naive enough to believe that Ethan and I would live happily ever after in paradise. I was okay with that, though. I wasn't looking for perfection. I just wanted to finally be in a normal relationship -- whatever that meant. I wanted to be with someone who wasn't afraid to address me as his boyfriend in front of his friends and didn't cringe at the thought of monogamy. Someone who didn't mock me because I believed in love -- and didn't feel the need to throw tricks in my face to get his point across. Someone who wanted me and only me.

Of course Ethan had his faults. There were things that peeved me about him that I'd kept quiet about -- I suppose out of habit. Like the fact that while I was out busting my ass, sometimes even working double shifts at the diner so we could pay our rent and bills, he was out playing his violin on the street corner only bringing in an average of $40 a day, if that. Talk about frustrating! Would it have killed him to go out and get a regular job like everyone else? I couldn't figure that out about him. I mean, I was going to school full time, working on projects, studying for exams, and then pulling shifts at the diner whenever I could fit it in, and in the meantime, he thought it was perfectly fine for him to fiddle on the sidewalk not knowing whether or not he was going to earn any money that day while playing La Companella over and over in the below freezing weather. It really brought a literal sense to the term "starving artist". I have no idea how he survived all that time without my paycheck to help him out! Once in a while his parents would send a check for, like, $50 to help us out, but other than that, I can't believe he was able to make ends meet before I came to live with him! When I moved in, he was about three days away from having his electricity shut off -- which, would have made for an extremely miserable winter, being that his apartment's insulation is so poor. He was also a month behind on his rent, and so I helped him out some when I received my first check for Rage.

Rage. Damn, that was good money! Too bad things between Michael and I have gone to shit, or else I could have already had another check for the comic and would have been able to afford my own apartment. That is something that I've never had -- my own place. It's definitely a work-in-progress, though. Don't get me wrong -- I love Daphne, but I just want a place that I can call my own without having to worry about anyone else but myself -- not to mention I don't want to be in another situation where I find myself having to be forced to leave because of another person.

Yes, that's definitely on my list of things to accomplish before the year is up. It's the last thing I think about before drifting off to sleep.