Hard Truths

by Alex Whitehall

  “What?”

  Her chuckle trembled and sounded a little crazed. “Okay, go along with me here. So if your leg has gangrene, they might need to amputate. And it’s shitty losing your leg. Yet if you don’t lose your leg, you’ll likely lose your life, so it’s a good thing to lose your leg. Plus there are artificial legs you can get, and they’re not quite the same, but they’ll support you better than that horrible gangrene leg that would’ve killed you.”

  The metaphor was so gruesome and weird that I stopped and thought about it. Really thought about it. Eventually I said, “Did you just compare Mom and Dad to gangrene?”

  “Yes!” she snapped. “Because they were toxic and slowly killing both of us. I’m glad you came out and they disowned you—er, sorry—but that happening gave me the strength to cut them out of my life too! And I feel so much better about myself and everything in my goddamn life now with them gone. Yes, it hurt to cut the limb off, but not having to fight that toxic shit anymore is going to make the rest of our lives so much better.”

  She was crying by the end of her speech, which was fitting since I was too.

  It was several long minutes before we pulled ourselves together. Then I cleared my throat one more time. “I wish I was there to give you a hug.”

  She sniffled. “I’ll get Dominic to give me one.”

  My wound that had sort of healed with our crying ripped back open. Logan wasn’t here to give me a hug. He probably wouldn’t want to. “Fuck.”

  In a strange moment of psychic ability, Sue said, “Go talk to him, Zacky. If he’s going to break up with you—well, first off I’m going to rip his head off—”

  “That’s very praying mantis of you.” I wasn’t sure where the humor had come from, but it spilled from my mouth with an exhale.

  “Anyway, if he is going to break up with you, it’s better if you talk about it with him.”

  That’s what a mature, responsible adult would do. Rather than run screaming from the apartment, saying they didn’t think Logan had been worth coming out for.

  Fuck. I’d said that, hadn’t I? The night was a blur, but I recalled those words leaving my lips and hitting his face like a slap.

  “Oh shit—” my voice hitched “—I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

  “I think you’ve had a lot of shit go down,” she said gently, “and you might have reacted poorly.”

  I hiccupped. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I know.” The happiness in her voice curled around her words like a blanket. “Go get ’im, Zacky.”

  She hung up, but I stayed there, phone clenched in my hand.

  “Go get ’im, Zacky.”

  As if it were that easy. As if I hadn’t said something terrible enough to deserve to be dumped if he hadn’t been planning to already. Oh god. What if he hadn’t been planning to dump me and now he was? Oh fuck. Oh fuck, I’d messed this up. If only I’d stayed and—

  Listened. Faced what he had to say, even if I didn’t like it.

  Oh.

  A cold slime slunk down my back.

  I should go talk to him. Clear the air.

  Confront the consequences.

  I hunched down over my phone, clenching my eyes closed as I hugged my knees and tried to breathe through the twelve-ton weight crushing my lungs. I’d said he wasn’t worth it. I’d said the worst possible thing to him, the biggest fucking lie, and now he was going to dump me and I’d deserve it and . . .

  And yet I needed to talk to him. If only to apologize for being a horrible boyfriend. A horrible person. Logan should never be told he wasn’t worth it. Because he was.

  He was even worth breaking my heart for all over again if I apologized and he still said goodbye.

  Trembling, I stood.

  The room spun around me, the colors smearing all over the place, and I clung to the back of the couch, as I waited for the spinning to stop and the colors to land where they belonged. I recalled the four cups of coffee I’d drunk and the ramen from the night before. My stomach was telling me it was hungry, but I didn’t have time to give in to its whims. I’d grab something with another coffee from the drive-thru on the way to Logan’s. I couldn’t hesitate any longer.

  I ran out the door, key and wallet in my hands.

  The food helped clear my head and made me realize I probably shouldn’t drink another coffee, based on how my heart was already racing. I also realized I was in the same sweats that I’d been wearing since about 3 p.m. yesterday and smelled faintly of BO. But as much as this wasn’t the impression I wanted to give when having An Important Talk with Logan, I couldn’t bear the thought of going home—to face the empty apartment and work up the nerve to leave again. So I went to Logan’s.

  He opened the door in sweats and with dark bags under his eyes. I briefly noticed that we were dressed to match, and then I said, “We need to talk.”

  I winced. I sounded exactly as he had a few days ago—like we were going to break up. He, on the other hand, didn’t react. His face was all hard lines and a blank expression. He could be hiding anger or hurt, or both. I swallowed as he stepped back and gestured for me to enter.

  A shiver passed through me as I walked past him, as if a chill radiated from him like an iceberg. My stomach lurched and tumbled, and I shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket and clamped them together, trying to stop the shaking from spreading.

  “So what do you want?”

  I spun to face him. He wasn’t far from the entryway into the living room, as if he were a sentry, ready to kick me out. Oh fuck, he looked pissed.

  I opened my mouth—

  My jaw hung there, wet laundry on the line, airing all my embarrassing truths. Finally, finally, I managed to get the hinge working again. “I’m sorry.”

  His brow twitched, but otherwise his expression was unchanged. Unforgiving. “For what?”

  Time to lay out my sins. My whole body shook as I dragged in a deep inhale. “For—for saying you weren’t worth coming out for, because you are and it wasn’t true in any way, shape, or form. It was a stupid thing to say anyway, because I didn’t come out for you, I did it for me.” My last bit of air squeaked out, and my body collapsed in on itself.

  Logan crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging, but it was his eyes that caught my attention. The stormy gray was clearing, and I could almost read his expression. “If you shouldn’t have said it, then why did you?”

  “Because I’m a goddamn idiot.” I hesitated, then admitted, voice quiet, “Because I wanted to hurt you before you hurt me.”

  “Well, it worked,” he said, voice flat. “You hurt me.”

  I flinched and hunched in on myself as tightly as I could. To be as small as I could. “I’m sorry.”

  He sighed, a giant exhale that blew the air from the room. I stayed motionless, waiting for . . . for what, I didn’t know.

  “You hurt me really bad, Isaac.”

  I dropped my eyes to the floor, then clenched them closed anyway. But I didn’t run. I stayed to listen to what he had to say, although I was pretty sure I knew where it was going.

  “I love you, and the fact you could say that, even during a fight, was . . . I didn’t think you’d do that to me.”

  “You didn’t deserve it,” I said, so softly he might not have heard.

  “I understand you were upset, but we needed to talk.” He paused, and that moment lasted so long I almost died. Then he added, “We still need to talk.”

  I dared to unclench my eyes and peek up. He looked stern and serious as ever, but I saw now his arms were crossed defensively. Protecting himself from me. He thought he needed to . . .

  My heart shattered. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes. Let’s talk.”

  “Can we start with what I wanted to say that night?”

  I nodded and squeezed my own hand to keep from running.

  “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to move in together. I did. But every time
you brought it up, it reminded me that I’d hung it over your head like a noose. Or a prize.”

  I saw guilt on his face—the guilt I’d seen so many times before when I’d mentioned moving in—and suddenly it made sense.

  “And because of that, you told your parents and they disowned you. It was all my fault. I never should have done that. I pushed you too hard—”

  “No! No, I didn’t come out to them for you. Or, rather, because of what you demanded. I won’t lie that it was a bit of motivation, but I also can’t blame you for that. While I had every right to wait until I was ready, you had every right not to be forced to take a step in the relationship that you didn’t feel comfortable with.” I inhaled sharply. The words that had spilled out seemed so logical. “And in the end, remember what we said in the car before we went into my parents’ house? You said I didn’t need to tell them. That we could move in anyway.”

  “I know, but—”

  “And I said I wanted to tell them. I did. I don’t regret it.”

  “But they—”

  “I don’t regret it,” I repeated firmly, and took a step toward him, loosening my hands and letting them fall to my sides. “Losing them cut an unhealthy part out of my life. I have Sue and you—” I swallowed and hoped “—and my friends. You’re—you’re my family now.”

  Logan tilted his face up and met my gaze. “You’re my family too. I should have talked to you earlier about what I was feeling. Before it all blew up.”

  “I should have too.” I sighed. “I’m sorry I ran off. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t.”

  “I should have done more to stop you. But then you said . . .”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t say that enough.” Moving slowly, giving him time to step back if he didn’t want me, I raised my hands and framed his face, meeting his eyes, hoping he looked into mine and knew how serious I was. “You are worth so much.”

  Because I was so very close, I saw his gaze soften with what I hoped was forgiveness. “Really?”

  “Yes. I should never have said that, and I’m sorry. I was upset, and I will try so hard not to ever do something so hurtful again.” I cleared my throat. “Sue says I maybe avoid difficult conversations.”

  Logan didn’t say anything, only kept staring into my eyes.

  “She might not have used the ‘maybe,’” I confessed.

  He chuckled, slid his arms around my waist, and began stroking my back. I rested my head against his shoulder so I could better sink my whole body against his.

  “Are we okay?” I asked his neck as my tremors returned in earnest. Except it was in relief this time.

  “Yes, I think we are. And I want you to move in with me. I’m excited about it, I swear. But I felt like such shit. Seeing you in the hospital, lost and confused. It was all my fault.”

  He sounded so broken. I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him and trying to hold him together. “It wasn’t your fault. It was the fault of my homophobic asshole parents. I should have told them over the phone and then we never would have dealt with it. But I’m kinda glad I did it to their faces, because now I know for sure that I never want them in my life again.”

  His arms tentacled around me more tightly, keeping me as close as possible. “I love you.”

  I sighed, and all the tension seeped out of my body, leaving room for it to be infused with his warmth. It was heaven. I closed my eyes and smiled. “I love you too.”

  I wasn’t even aware of falling asleep.

  There were blankets over me, a soft mattress beneath me, and a hot body tangled around me. I smiled without opening my eyes.

  “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

  I peeled my eyes open to his bedroom bathed in golden light. And his face close to mine, the amber glow highlighting all the sharp edges and strong lines. It must have been closer to lunch than dinner, and those three or four hours of sleep had been perfect. I would probably still crash hard tonight, but I no longer would be mistaken for a zombie. “Morning. Afternoon? Sorry about clocking out on you.”

  His lips quirked in a warm smile. “You needed it. I’m guessing you don’t remember asking me to take you to bed or lose you forever?”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Um.”

  The smile rolled seamlessly into a chuckle. “I’m not certain you were awake for that.”

  “Uh, I plead, um, being in an altered state of mind?”

  He wormed closer and kissed me. “That’s not a thing.”

  “You stayed here with me?” I asked, totally not changing the topic.

  “Of course.” He grinned, that dangerous, playful one that I fell in love with every time I saw it. “I didn’t want to lose you forever.”

  My stomach dropped out, free-falling as I considered how close we might have come. “No. No, wouldn’t want that.”

  He must have heard something in the soft, choked whisper of my words, because he pulled me to him and threw a leg over my hips, tying me up with his limbs. But it was the absolute love in his eyes that really had me trapped there—not that I was even thinking of escaping.

  I lurched forward to kiss him—because how could I not?—to let him know I felt the same way. It was only meant to be that, a kiss. But my forward motion rocked us, and he rolled onto his back, dragging me on top of him, our mouths still engaged. I gasped when his semihard cock pressed against my thigh. My own swelled in response. This was what he did to me.

  “Are you still tired?” he asked against my lips.

  Tired? When had I been tired? I was wide-awake now. A subtle adjustment of my hips pushed my cock against his through the thin layers of clothing that kept us apart. I was getting dizzy from the blood rushing to my dick so quickly. I groaned and thrust, only belatedly realizing that I hadn’t yet answered him. “Not tired.”

  His laugh was a breathy whisper, more gasp than humor. “I see that.”

  It was my turn to throw him a grin that I hoped was sexy and not goofy. I felt sexy on top of him, a plan blooming in my mind. “But I could go for a bite to eat.”

  I dove under the sheets before he could think I was craving a sandwich, and tugged hard on the waist of his sweats. His cock bounced free as the material bunched on his thighs. Long and dark, exactly as I’d remembered it.

  “No bites there,” he protested, rather half-heartedly.

  “Mmm, no, this is a full banquet.” I let my breath tickle his cock as my lips traveled from base to tip. “Better start with an appetizer.”

  I licked the head, gathering up the hint of pre-come that had formed.

  “Cannibal.”

  “Unrepentant.” With that I sank my mouth down over him, taking him as fast and deep as I could.

  A groan ripped out of him. “Fuck, Isaac!”

  Any witty retort was stopped by his cock filling my mouth—probably for the best—so instead I enjoyed the slow slide off. I lathered him with my tongue, tasting every inch as he grew harder and larger.

  It was a long, releasing sigh that spilled from his lips this time. I smiled when the cockhead popped free from my mouth, and I looked up at him, the miles of dark, tattooed skin between us. His answering smile was . . . happy. So goddamn happy. My heart swelled, and I sucked his cock in once again.

  Like you did when you were overflowing with love for your super-hot boyfriend who you were going to move in with. Or at least that was my tactic.

  At first I went slow, taking time to tease the head with my tongue, letting the air hit his spit-slathered skin. I stroked his balls with one hand while my mouth pumped his cock gradually to its fullness. At that point, Logan knotted his fingers in my hair.

  “Please, Isaac, please.”

  I didn’t make him tell me what he wanted so badly. And I didn’t make him beg. Instead I sucked hard and fast, bobbing like my boyfriend’s orgasm depended on it. The salty-sweet pre-come came faster, filling my mouth with his flavor. I had to let go of his balls to grab my own cock and ease the aching need there. It didn’t take much: hi
s grip tightening in my hair and forcing me down, just as I liked it, his come shooting down my throat.

  A few more strokes to the music of his groans and I was coming too, making a mess of the sheets and struggling to breathe through the bliss. Maybe it was exhaustion or hunger or sheer relief, but my body kept shuddering with pleasure long after the last spurt. When I finally released him from my mouth and climbed up his body to collapse in a sated pile on top of him, he, too, was shaking with huge, gasping breaths.

  We didn’t speak. We clung to one another, sharing warmth and lazy come-flavored kisses until the trembling stopped. Then I sighed and sank against his chest as he dragged the blankets back over us.

  “Isaac?” he murmured into the quiet that settled as securely as the blanket.

  “Mmm?”

  “Will you move in with me?”

  I smiled, the rush of love swelling in my chest again. “I will.”

  We eventually made it out of bed and into the shower. By the time we finished there, we were ravenous, so we decided to order takeout. While he was on the phone, I checked mine, more from habit than any hope that people had reached out. The notification reminders still clung to the apps: three missed calls and one hundred fifty texts. One hundred and fifty. Most were in the group chat, but a few were only to me. The calls were Roe, Logan, and Emmett, although none had left messages—because in the age of texts, who needed to?

  Speaking of, Roe had replied to my original text three hours after I’d sent it.

  Sorry, didn’t read your message until now, was in a movie. Wish I’d read it when it first came in :( Call me if you’re still up and need to talk! Otherwise I’ll call you in the morning <3

  In a movie. A perfectly reasonable thing to do on a Friday night.

  The messages in the group chat and in individual texts were all along the lines of Isaac, you okay?

  In the group chat, I saw a bit more of the situation unfold. Saturday morning, Roe asking if anyone had heard from me. A flurry of concerns. Someone saying they’d ask Logan—at which point I wondered why I hadn’t added him to that message string previously—and then they must have been together at brunch, because there was a series of We’re here if you need to talk and We love you and I’m breaking down your goddamn door on Monday if you’re still MIA.