by A. M. Arthur
“Is it wrong that I like sex?”
It took three long, slow blinks for Dr. Taggert to respond. “Why would you think it’s wrong to like sex?”
“The way Taz reacted when I told him I hadn’t had sex in five weeks. When I told him about Guy, and then going out looking for other guys to fuck. He looked surprised, like I should be terrified of sex, and he doesn’t even know all of what happened to me. I mean, is it more fucked-up to like sex than to be afraid of it?”
“Liking or disliking sex isn’t the real question, Will. What you should be asking yourself, and honestly, is why you’re seeking out sex. Owning your sexuality and exploring what it means to be a gay man is healthy. Going to the extremes you did after Guy, hooking up night after night with strangers for the thrill of the moment, is not healthy.”
“So it’s okay that I want to have sex with Taz?”
“You tell me.”
Will frowned, then tried to work it out on his own. “I’m attracted to Taz. I know stuff about him. He isn’t an anonymous dude in a public place. He makes me feel good about myself. He makes me laugh.” He grinned. “He really makes me laugh. And yes, I’m horny. I’m nineteen years old, for Christ’s sake. But it’s more than that. I want to make him laugh, too.”
“Then I think you have your answer,” Dr. Taggert said with a smile.
“So does that mean I can break our moratorium on me having sex?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at Will in that quiet, assessing way that meant he was thinking hard on his answer. “When we both agreed to you not having sex for a short period of time, it was in an attempt to curb a bad habit. To detox you from an addiction, so to speak. We also did not anticipate a curveball such as Taz coming along and providing you with an even stronger temptation. Ours isn’t an agreement that I can punish you for breaking.”
Will grunted. “You aren’t saying yes, and you aren’t saying no.”
“I’m saying that you are an adult, and part of being an adult is making difficult decisions. All I can do is advise you against starting a sexual relationship this soon, especially since you and Taz have only been communicating for two weeks.”
But I feel like I’ve known him for so much longer than that.
“However,” Dr. Taggert continued, “it does sound as though Taz could be a very good friend for you.”
“I think so, too. I mean, he doesn’t think it’s weird that I’m on disability or live in a halfway house. He’s like the most chill person I’ve ever met, despite what happened to him in college.”
“The scars you mentioned?”
“Yeah.” It didn’t seem right sharing those details with his shrink without Taz’s permission. “I liked having someone else get mad on my behalf. It’s nice knowing someone actually cares.”
Dr. Taggert tilted his head. “You don’t think you have anyone in your life who cares about you?”
“Not like you and Jennifer. You’re adults who are supposed to care. He’s a stranger who’s into me, and not just so he can get into me, you know? I mean, he was pissed when I told him how Guy dumped me, and he looked like he was going to spit fire when I accidentally let out that I was abused by more than one person. Does that make sense?”
“It makes a lot of sense, Will. There’s a new person in your life who is completely outside of your recovery who cares. You deserve to have a person like that.”
“I’m just not supposed to fuck him.”
“That’s up to you. I’m here to listen and offer guidance, not to tell you how to live your life.”
“I am.” The truth of those words hit Will in the chest and nearly knocked the air from his lungs. “I am living my life. Not just surviving one day at a time. I’m living.”
“Yes.” Dr. Taggert’s proud smile only drove it all home harder. “Yes, you are. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
It was an epiphany, yes, but not a cure. He had a lot of work left. His anxiety was something he’d probably battle for years, and he was okay with that. But he was making friends. Making plans. Doing things regular guys his age did, instead of hiding away like he’d done last year, or falling into a sex addiction like a month ago.
And now, more than anything, he wanted to share his epiphany with Taz.
* * *
Will hadn’t logged into the chat room all day, and Taz wasn’t sure how he felt about that. After chatting every day for two weeks, not seeing Will’s handle online unsettled him. Sure, it was only four in the afternoon, and sometimes he didn’t get on until around now if he was working, but he was pretty sure Will didn’t work on Wednesdays.
So he ignored the chat room and watched a rerun of Ellen’s talk show. Transcription work was done for the day. Peter was supposed to come over around eight with pizza, beer and a movie. They did that at least twice a week, and it was one of Taz’s favorite things. Spending time with his dad, with nothing more important to do than relax and enjoy. An emotional connection he depended on.
The unexpected knock on his door at quarter after four nearly knocked him out of his desk chair. Adrenaline buzzed through his bloodstream and left a faint metallic taste in his mouth. He swallowed hard against a tide of nausea. No one should be knocking.
A second round, and then, “Taz? You home?”
Will.
It still took Taz a moment to unlock his frozen muscles and get to the door. He checked the peephole to be sure before he opened it. Will grinned at him, a white paper bag in his hands, practically vibrating in place. Taz blinked stupidly, totally confused as to what was happening.
“Hey, you.” Will’s grin dimmed a bit. “Is this a bad time?”
“I, uh, no.” He shifted to the side so Will could come inside, then locked the door again. “What are you doing here?”
“Early dinner.” Will shook the bag. “Sandwiches and pickles, like yesterday.”
“Oh.”
They stared at each other, Will’s initial excitement fading into a deep frown. “Is it okay that I came over? Shit, it’s not, is it?”
No, it’s not okay. This isn’t part of my routine. No one drops by like this.
“It’s unexpected, is all.” Taz didn’t want to make Will feel bad for coming over without calling first, but he’d been tossed off course and he wasn’t sure how to right himself. “My dad’s the only one who ever visits.”
“Right. Look, I can go. No hard feelings.”
“No!” Taz liked that Will had come to him, not only with food, but with a great big smile on his face, and he wanted Will to smile again. “I need a minute to get my bearings. A friend dropping by isn’t something that’s happened here before.”
“I’m sorry, I should have called or texted or something.”
“No biggie.” Except it kind of was a biggie. For Taz. Taz had to deal with his stupid issues, and he hated that he’d made Will feel bad about trying to do something nice.
His nose zeroed in on the bag and the wonderful smells coming from it.
“I got the same thing you wanted yesterday,” Will said, all shy smiles now. “Is that okay?”
“You remembered my order?”
“Pretty sure I remembered everything.”
Taz grinned, some of his initial anxiety sloughing away. “That’s really cool. Thanks.”
Will shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. Sometimes I remember random things like sandwich toppings, and sometimes I can’t find my own shoes in my tiny bedroom.”
“We all lose our shoes sometimes.” Taz cleared a spot on the coffee table, which was somewhat overrun with sports magazines and old newspapers. “Get stuff set up. I’ll bring drinks.”
“Cool.”
Their arms brushed in passing, and it did funny things to his insides. Taz escaped to the kitchen, then star
ed at the refrigerator’s interior for several long seconds, totally lost as to what he was supposed to be doing, because he had a boy in his apartment for the second day in a row. A boy who’d come all on his own, with food, and he’d shown up really happy about something.
Sodas.
He grabbed two cans of soda. One cola and one root beer, because he’d forgotten to put more warm cans of root beer in to chill last night. He’d let Will pick and then drink the other one.
Both sandwiches were laid out on their waxed paper with a pickle and napkins. Will was kneeling on one side of the coffee table, and he tracked Taz with wide, happy eyes. Taz knelt opposite him, like they were having a picnic in his living room. Will picked the root beer, which was totally cool with Taz.
“I really am sorry I showed up like this,” Will said. “I didn’t think about how it might throw you off your routine.”
“You were trying to do something nice.”
“And I wanted to see you.”
Taz fought off the urge to flinch. He didn’t like people to see him, which was exactly why he preferred to stay in his apartment. But Will hadn’t meant it like that. He didn’t want to see Taz; nobody liked to see him. He was too fucking ugly. Will probably just wanted to talk or something. Taz wasn’t going to say all that, so he reached for a joke instead. “Miss me already?”
“Yes.”
He blinked. “You did?”
Will’s shoulders drooped. “You didn’t miss me?”
“Sure I did.” Taz had jerked off in the shower this morning to the memory of Will’s soapy-sweet scent. He hadn’t even felt guilty about it, because Will had been really clear about being interested in him.
No-sex rule, though.
“Good.” Will picked up half his sandwich, which looked like the same plain turkey on white as the day before. “I had therapy today.”
As far as conversation starters went, that was a brand-new one for Taz. “Oh? Did it go well?”
“Yup.” He grinned. “I realized that by pursuing you, by being with you, I’m starting to live my life again. Mostly I just exist, you know? Get through one day at a time. But us? This? It’s actually living.”
Taz worked through that sentence by sentence, his understanding growing with each word he puzzled out. Will had discovered something profound about himself today, and he’d come to Taz to celebrate. He’d come to the person he was living with again. “I’m helping you live?”
“Duh. I mean, come on. Hiding in my room wasn’t living. That secret affair with Guy was kind of an attempt at it, but it wasn’t right. Going out for anonymous sex wasn’t living the right way, either, and I understand that now. But this, Taz?” He gestured between them. “You and me? This is real. This is special.”
Taz’s blood hummed. He hadn’t been anything special in a long, long time. “It’s special for me, too. You’re the first person besides my dad who’s wanted to hang with me in two years.”
“Well, you haven’t exactly gone out of your way to make friends.”
“I guess.” He looked at his food, feeling stupid and uncertain all of a sudden and not sure why. Maybe this was only special for Taz because Will was the first friend he’d made in forever. Maybe he was only attracted to the idea of Will, because he didn’t look at Taz like he was ugly or broken.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Will said, so stricken that Taz looked up. Into a pale face and trembling hands.
“Sorry for what?”
“Whatever I said that made you look so upset. Was it about you not making friends? I didn’t mean it in a mean way. I was only—”
“Stating the obvious.” Taz shrugged one shoulder. “I guess for a second, I was scared that this, us, was only so amazing because you’re my first friend in years.”
“Nah, it’s because I’m an amazing friend.” Will puffed and preened until Taz laughed.
“Yeah, you are.” He picked up his sandwich and took a big bite. All kinds of flavors filled his mouth, and he enjoyed the layers of spicy, tangy and sweet.
“You are too, you know,” Will said after a few minutes of silent eating. He’d only taken a few careful bites of his turkey sandwich, then put the rest down.
Taz paused before polishing off the last bit of his first half. “I am what?”
“An amazing friend. And living again. By having dinner with me.”
“In the safety of the apartment I hate to leave.”
“Meh. Baby steps.” Will cleared his throat. “I, um, also talked to my shrink about the whole no-sex thing.”
Taz’s hand stayed frozen in place, that final bite inches from his lips. “Oh?”
“He said I was an adult and could make my own choices.”
Uh-oh.
Taz swallowed hard. “About sex?”
Will gave a slow, deliberate nod.
“But I thought you guys came up with the ban for a good reason,” Taz said, uncertain why he was protesting something he wanted a whole hell of a lot.
“We did. To curb my descent into unhealthy bathroom sex with strangers. But you aren’t a stranger, Taz.”
“Near enough. We only just met yesterday.”
“We’ve known each other for two weeks.”
“That’s still not a lot of time.”
Will frowned, his hands falling into his lap. “I thought you’d be happy about this. You said you’re attracted to me.”
“I am.”
“Good.” He crawled around the coffee table in such a slinky, seductive way that Taz’s dick took notice. Will sat on his haunches, his knees inches from Taz’s thigh, then pulled two condoms out of his jeans pocket. “I came prepared this time.”
Taz’s heart thudded, and his pulse raced—only not in the fun “oh, yeah let’s do this” way. It was the “oh, shit what do I do” kind of reaction to a situation he wasn’t prepared to handle. He thought they’d put the whole matter of sex this soon to rest last night, but now Will looked like he was five seconds from climbing into his lap. And if he did that, Taz wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.
Except Taz was scarred and overweight, and he wasn’t anyone special. Will didn’t really want him, he wanted to have sex. And once upon a time, Taz might have been okay with that, but he didn’t want casual sex to ruin their friendship. He needed this friendship more than he needed an orgasm. And he had a feeling that, deep down, so did Will.
Taz stood so fast he banged his knee on the coffee table, which made him stumble onto the couch, swearing loudly. Will stared up at him from the floor, his pretty face a mix of confusion and hurt, and Taz hated himself for putting those emotions there.
* * *
Will’s excitement died a fast death under the bewildered, almost stricken look on Taz’s face. He’d scrambled away from him like Will was toxic, and that hurt. A lot. “You don’t want to have sex?”
“No, I do.” Taz clutched at his knee. “Not today.”
“Why not?” He hated the petulant tone of his voice, but Will was confused and let down and inching into humiliated from his earlier crawl across the floor. Guess he wasn’t as seductive as he’d hoped.
“It’s too soon.”
Will snorted. “Yeah, right. It’s so soon that you had a boner the whole time I was here yesterday.”
“I do want you, Will, but your shrink—”
“Said I could make my own decision.” He’d come here armed with food and condoms, and the hope that maybe, just maybe Taz really wanted him like he said he did. A hope that was being beaten hard against the rocks of reality. His heart sped up; his fingers began to tremble. Lungs started to seize.
No, not in front of him. I won’t.
I see the moon and the moon sees me. I see the moon and the moon sees me.
“And I can make a decision, too,” Taz s
aid. Gentle and nice, and that made the words hurt even more. “I want to wait until we know each other better.”
Anger started to overtake the encroaching panic attack, and Will lurched to his feet. “You think I’m some kind of sex-crazed whore, don’t you? I mean, you sure looked at me like I was yesterday when I said I’d had sex a few weeks ago. Poor little abuse victim turned slut, right?”
Taz’s mouth flapped open, but he didn’t say anything. Not even that Will was wrong about everything he’d said, and that felt like a kick to the balls. A fresh blast of anger carried him to the apartment door.
“Fuck you,” Will yelled as he slammed the door behind him.
Heart pounding too fucking fast, Will raced for the stairwell. It was dark and smelly and not safe, but he sat in a corner of the landing, drew his knees to his chest and tried to breathe. His own adrenaline was fighting with the panic, leaving him shaking and queasy and really, really hot.
Of course Taz didn’t want him. No one would. Not for real. Guy had, but only because he missed his boyfriend, and besides, Will had never told Guy about his past. If he’d mentioned it, Guy probably would have dumped his used-up ass sooner. Genuinely kind people like Taz didn’t want broken people like Will.
Never should have met him in person. Should have just stayed chat room friends.
Daring to hope had been beyond stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Why do you feel stupid, Will?” Damned shrink’s voice, asking the same question he’d asked dozens of times in the past three years.
“Because I keep trying to be something I’m not,” he whispered into the stuffy stairwell. His throat hurt but he wasn’t going to cry.
I see the moon and the moon sees me. The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.
He’d thought maybe Taz had seen that somebody, too, but he hadn’t. No one ever would, because that somebody wasn’t real.
He never would be real, no matter what Jennifer tried to make him believe.
“You’re more than your past, Will,” she’d told him the first night he’d spent under her roof as her foster son. The first of many long nights when he’d wake them both with his night terrors. “Someday you’ll see that, and so will everyone else.”