I Thought I’d Die Happy
That night, following the return from Trix’s parent’s summer house, the evening was subdued. Bed early. Jamie sensed a change, innocently attributing Dean’s mood to tiredness and nothing else. Dean slid in next to him. Trouble was sound asleep. Despite his assurances that nothing would happen to him over the weekend, Dean admitted to himself that Jamie had kept his word. What did happen, was something internal, something broke free or tightened in Dean that morning.
Dean’s week following Easter weekend started just like any other. 5:30 AM alarm. Gym by 6 AM. Shower and suited up for the day ahead by 7 AM. Tube from Notting Hill Gate to Canary Wharf by 7:25 AM. A double shot cappuccino from his go-to coffee shop in Canada Square, and behind his desk by 8 AM. Even Jamie coming into his life, he enjoyed his morning routine. It was him. Untouched. A delicate little ecosystem of tasks and times. Sacred almost.
He sighed as he fired up his computer for the day. The weekend’s excesses were retreating but the realisation that settled over night was still there. Like detritus left by the sea on the shore after it receded. He knew he needed to act. He didn’t feel the pull to clarify his thoughts with anyone. Friends, family. This was for him to navigate.
Later the day he’d dismissed colleagues, even Hugo when he’d commented that he seemed lost in thought that day. “Heavy weekend. Caught up with me.” With a flat laugh where his face barely moved. A default answer he was sick of regurgitating.
On his lunch break he sat in his office and gazed out through his window. His mind, now a court room hearing arguments for sentencing.
He loved Jamie with everything he had. He was a beautifully chaotic creature. Dean used the term creature when thinking of him often over the past three years. Not to demean but, to make sure he wasn’t compared to or mistaken for any other role people play in his life. He was absolutely one of a kind. Every one else was for function to a degree or a default relationship. Dean never went out of his way for friendships. Love being the only one he actively sought and did everything in his power to reach. Jamie filled all the grey areas in between day to day connections with technicolour. Colour Dean never knew he needed.
It’s true Jamie had changed him. Jamie would say the same. They had both said the same. Dean wanted Jamie to have everything, experience everything. Jamie had opened up about how his growing up was lonely, he was ridiculed, bullied. To a point that he felt unloveable. The conversation felt like acid in Dean’s head. Jamie was happy now but life was, can and will be cruel.
Like a drug. Jamie was capable of facilitating new and even exciting experiences. The risk with a drug, your body and mind expects more. More and more over time. Dean was exhausted in giving Jamie more and more. He wanted to never stop but he felt he was losing himself. Was he now only Dean Archer- defined by being in love with Jamie Arden? He wanted his relationship to be one of the best parts of him, not the only part of him.
Dean was pragmatic. Jamie was a dreamer. A romantic. Dean had to grab the awes of this boat that was starting to lose its course. His decision was heartbreaking. Pain prickled his face as he centred on the decision. He didn’t know how long or how this part in the story would end but he needed to pull his head out of the noise to understand. This would be the one time he would ask Jamie to understand him. He hoped Trouble would.
That Tuesday, early in April, Dean returned home at 7 PM. Jamie was already home and attempting a meal for them both. Dean’s legs were heavy as he scaled the stairs to their home. He knew this would be excruciating and heartbreaking but he couldn’t lose himself anymore.
Should love be at the expense of and cause a complete eclipse of him as a human being? He loved Jamie with everything but he always had this whisper of worry. Am I being everything he needs me to be? Am I capable of this?
“Hey hey handsome! I’m making dinner. Maybe get a take out number up on your phone in an emergency!” Jamie came bounding over, full of love and excitement. He clocked Dean’s face. “Oh my god.” He knew. He crashed to the floor and held his head in his hands. He rocked back and forth “No Dean. No. You can’t. No.” Jamie became manic.
“Jamie.” He knelt by him and put a hand to his shoulder. No more. He couldn’t hug and kiss him. It would be more cruel than he already felt.
“Get away. Get away from me.” Jamie’s slight frame meant he was impossible to catch. He was gone, he ran for the bedroom. Dean followed. Slowly. He felt like a lion who’d maimed his next meal and was going to have to finish the task. Put the poor animal out of its misery. It was nasty. Ugly. Survival.
Jamie’s head was buried in the pillow. His blonde waves splayed like sun beams. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. “How long have you felt like this?” Jamie didn’t turn.
“It’s not that simple. Jamie I love you more than anything. I’m at a point where in my head I feel like I can’t be everything you truly want me to be. Like I’m losing myself and you’re losing yourself. You need someone who can be wild like we were over the weekend, that’s not me. It was incredible but it’s not the person I am. I can’t ask you to give up the way you approach life. It’s not fair. I’m exhausted from beating myself up over everything.”
“I trusted you. Dean, my heart just broke. In fact…” Jamie jumped and ran to grab a bag and pack.
“Aren’t you going to talk to me?”
“What about? You’ve made your decision. I’m in a place where I finally felt I could be me with someone who loved all of me. That’s not here anymore. Man up Dean. You decided what you wanted or needed. You can’t be shocked at how I’m reacting?” Jamie continued shoving his belongings into various bags. Dean grabbed his arms.
“Fucking turn around. I love you. I’m sorry. I just need to sort my fucking head out. Fuck. Jamie, please? I don’t want you to leave.” Dean was panicking. He didn’t know what reaction to expect but Jamie going cold was not the first that sprang to mind.
“Get the fuck off me. I can’t wait here for you to change your mind again. Dean, I can’t handle that. My head can’t cope with it. You said you understood me. I’m going so I can be safe from where I thought I was safest.”
“Jamie. Fuck, come on. Sit down with me.”
“Fuck you.” Jamie didn’t mean to, but his hand worked free from Dean’s grip, he swung it in rage and hit out, the back of his hand crashing against Dean’s cheek.
Dean’s head hung suspended in shock, in quiet acceptance. He felt he deserved it. He wouldn’t let go. “Baby I’m not letting you go. Fucking talk to me. Draw blood. Hit me again and again to feel better. See if I fucking care. You’re not leaving.”
“Fucking watch me. I’m not staying where I’m not wanted. You might love me but you don’t want to be with me. That’s fucking sick.”
Dean couldn’t say anything so he showed him. He pushed his lips against his. Shuddering and breathing hard.
“Fuck you.” Jamie succumbed. Screams went to whispers. Hands being pushed away turned to fists in hair. “Fuck me.”
Dean slammed Jamie to the bed. They scrambled. It was desperate. Hard. Lust not love. A last attempt.
They settled and Jamie’s emotions disappeared somewhere deep inside. “I need to go. This isn’t home anymore. I am sorry for hitting you.”
He got up. He was cold. He had to be. To protect himself. He got what bags he could and walked out of the bedroom door and out into London.
Dean was frozen to the bed. Suspended in the aftermath of his decision. This moment that balanced precariously between complete sense and utter insanity, he couldn’t go after him. His heart screamed but his head slapped it into check, as Jamie had his flushed cheek moments before.
He curled into a ball and wailed.
JAMIE: Ali, I need a place to stay. I’m getting a taxi to yours. Will explain when I’m there. I’m totally numb but I might completely crash. Be warned. X
Ali handed him a glass of wine as he sat down on her sofa. “Christ you have no colour in your face. Oh Jamie I’m so sorry. What happened?” Ali reached out a hand and rubbed his forearm.
Jamie was in a daze. “I actually don’t know. His head is complicated like mine. He had this look in his eyes when he came home. I just knew. I thought I’d never see that look in his eyes. God, I thought I’d die happy and never see it. He feels he’s not able to be everything I need. I’m so sad Ali, I thought I was going to spend my life with him.” He didn’t cry but his throat was painful. Bruised. Bruised from the emotion he was swallowing down.
“I don’t get it. We all have moments where we doubt anything and everything. He needs to work on himself, maybe? I know you love him dearly but does it perhaps mean he just needs space?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel about it all to be honest. I’m just numb. It’s so weird. I’ll let you know when it hits me.”
It came that night as he got into bed in Ali’s spare room. No trace of his life in there. A white box of a room, soulless. No Parisian painting, no Eiffel Tower dish. But that night, it felt like the safest place on earth.
Three Weeks - Post War
They hadn’t spoken for three weeks. Jamie understood Dean’s friends and family would rally round him and Jamie’s did the same for him. Relationships that now hung suspended. Useless. Redundant and unfinished. He thought of little George. Weirdly, he was full of concern for how Dean was coping but quickly shrugged it off. You wanted this. Fucking deal with it. That was love. A complex climbing plant that wound itself around everything. When it began to die, it was ugly and sharp.
That Friday. Jamie couldn’t handle being in anymore.
He wanted, needed to get annihilated.
Gabby had consoled him on the phone for hours. But her relationship with a Richard kept her away from bars and nightlife in the last couple of years. Jamie didn’t care. Her life was moving on and that was all he ever wanted for his friends, they respected it for him when his was.
Thank god for single friends at the same time.
“Jamie, are you seriously wearing that?” Lars asked mouth clasped in hand. Jamie chose to wear a pair of skin tight satin black trousers and a black t shirt so fitted he may as well have not bothered. His adorable signature fringe curling about his left eye, swept back, gone. Like Dean.
“What? If I see him. He needs to be reminded of what he’s missing. If I don’t, well I’ll welcome some flirtation. Why not?” He didn’t believe what he said. He couldn’t care less about anyone else.
They arrived at Yard at 10 PM. The place where it all began. The irony of his first night out, now single, where his precious relationship had begun was not lost on Jamie. He came through the doors with a crash of laughter and cackles with Lars and Trix. It felt good to laugh after three weeks of misery.
A while later. “Trix babe, I’m going to the men’s room. Pass it over.” Jamie grabbed the bag and shoved it into his pocket.
He looked around and saw no one, taking two lines one after another. Holding his nose he stared into the mirror. He could still see redness around his eyes where tears continued to burn. He snorted harshly to choke down the feelings.
“Jamie?”
Jamie scrambled to put his paraphernalia away. “Oh Harry. Hi, how are you?” Jamie went to leave. What good would come of talking to him. He was now painfully aware Dean could be anywhere in the vicinity. “Is D….”
Harry stopped him. Moving in front of his path. “No. God no. Why would he want to go out three weeks after dumping you?” Harry’s face was horrible. A weird grin came over him. He looked almost satisfied.
“Excuse me? It was a little more complicated than that. And why am I not allowed to be out with my friends? As you said, it’s been three weeks. I’ve not heard from him. He made his decision.”
“Jamie. Take some responsibility for all this. He gave up. He won’t tell you that but he gave up trying to keep up with you. He never felt like he could give you everything. You had a wonderful man. A wealthy extended family, more friends, a beautiful home, he didn’t think it was enough for you. Deep down, this shit is what makes you happy.” Harry grabbed the bag out of his pocket and held it up to Jamie’s face.
“Well seeing as you seem to know me so well, best we aren’t together anymore.” He went to leave again but Harry grabbed his arm.
“Do you have any idea how fucking lucky you were to have him? Any fucking idea?”
“Harry you’re hurting me. Let me go.”
“I just can’t believe you. He’s better off out of it. I always said your head was too fucked and beyond help anyway.” Harry let go and smirked.
Jamie was filled with rage. His arm tightened and as Harry looked back, his palm slapped his face. He continued to smirk. Knowing he was pushing Jamie’s buttons.
“You’re horrible. How can you say something like that?” Jamie burst into tears and ran out.
The toilet doors crashed open.
“Oh fuck.” Lars clocked him immediately.
“Shit.” Trix followed.
Jamie came back to them but turned to a voice.
“You can fucking hit me all you want kid. Go ahead. You’re just a coked up little shit. He tired of your ways.”
That line. That had burned through Jamie before. Not again. He grabbed Lars’ drink and flung the contents at Harry. Harry laughed and held his hands up as if his point was proven. Gasps from everyone else in the bar brought a quiet.
“Ok, that’s enough. We’re leaving. Come on.” Trix grabbed his arms. He held her tightly.
Jamie turned as he made the door. Harry along with everyone else from his past would not have the last word this time. He dug deep and ugly for what he would say. No matter how hurtful. “Harry, just some news for you. He will never, ever fuck you. You can drive a wedge between us but don’t you think he would have tried by now? It’s not going to happen. You’re stuck in your flat jerking off over your best friend until you’re sore every night. Just because I’m gone. He won’t jump into bed with you.” He smirked and left with his army.
Harry’s face flattened. He knew there was no truth in what Jamie had lobbed at him. But the public dressing down hurt. He knew on a deeper level this was ugly. They were shit slinging to be a bigger man in the fight. It hurt him. He hoped when Jamie sobered it would hurt to. They were baby boy and wicked stepmother after all. Harry was devastated. He actively participated in killing his friendship with Jamie. His mind raced as to how and when this would land on Dean.
News travels fast.
Next day.
DEAN: Ring me
“Hello.” Harry was curt. He knew what was coming. He knew Jamie would have found some way to get this back to Dean. He couldn’t blame him so he braced himself.
“Fuck H. I’m going through enough right now and you pull a stunt like that? I’ve never said anything like that about him to you. Do you think that? That, what was it? His head is fucked and he’s a drug addict? Listen. I know him better than anyone. He’s neither. I want my friends, if they have to insert themselves, to be there for me, us, not create some fucking crazy narrative that never existed. I need space from him to understand what’s going on in my head, I don’t need friends who cause more fucking problems. H, I can’t forgive you for this. Seriously. That was just. I can’t even. Fuck.” Dean hung up. Harry stored up the emotion and went back to work. Inside, he died.
That evening.
“Hi It’s Ali, Jamie sent me to get more of his things. That might be the last of it now.” Ali said over the intercom. Dean buzzed her in.
“Hi. Sorry you’re in the middle of all of this.” Dean looked tired. Unkempt. Childish. Stroking his arm for comfort.
“I had to tell you about Harry. I love you Dean but I draw the line when my little brother is ridiculed. That’s where I get truly pissed. You were tired of his ways? His head is too fucked? Dean that’s what years of bullies said to him.”
“You must know I don’t think any of those things. I fell out with Harry over it. I told him there was no need for that. We’re not talking. To add to everything.”
“Dean it’s not a concern of mine. Maybe you should have a think about what you actually want. Nothing is perfect, but what you both had here was pretty damn close. You’ll meet someone else, sure enough. But will it be as colourful and brilliant as what you had with him? Probably not. You’ll come searching for it again. Dean, you threw away the closest any of us will get to perfect. Now I have a heartbroken little brother in a shitty guest room and you stood here completely miserable. Look I’ve got to go. I’m gutted. You two were wonderful. Take care of yourself anyway.” She slammed the door with a suitcase trundling behind her.
That was it. Big Boy and Trouble. Finished. Dean walked into the hall way and looked up at the painting and down at the Eiffel Tower dish. He bit his lip and braced for more tears.
Four Weeks - Post War
It was four weeks since they ended. Dean had mindlessly glided through the past month. May was here in a blink. He barely engaged with family and friends. They knew to give him space to hurt and figure out what he wanted.
He finally decided it might be time to crawl out of the apartment and join the office for a drink after work.
It was Friday, Dean joined colleagues at Pergola on the Wharf, a stones throw from the office.
The roof top bar was a welcome escape from the bustle of commuters and the risk of bumping into Jamie and those who knew him on the ground below. Dean leaned against the bar. Physically ducking his head, there was way too much cheer and energy in the room. He was beginning to regret his decision. But then.
“Good evening. Can I buy you a drink?” A distinguished, deep voice curled around Dean’s ears. The offer and the attention broke his mood momentarily. He grinned without looking up.
“All set thanks.” Dean looked into his lager and swirled the frothy remains.
“It’s possible a guy just wants to share in your company without any other agenda? How about names first and we go from there? I’m Adam.” A perfectly manicured hand, topped with a Cartier watch glided into Dean’s vision.
Dean smirked. The slight persistence was nice. He turned and grabbed the hand. “Dean. Good to meet you Adam.” Dean hid his shock. He was met by a handsome, elegant man. Around his height, a towering six foot three. Close cut grey hair. Light tan. Clean shaven, small brown eyes. Thin lips and a strong nose. His navy suit wrapped around a strong body. His grey roll neck hugging his solid neck. He was clearly older, Dean guessed around fifty. Despite his state of mind, he was kind of interested.
“Introductions over, let me buy the most handsome man in London a drink.” Adam wouldn’t take no for an answer and pointed to the barman to pour Dean another.
“Not a fan of being turned down then Adam? And most handsome man in London? You’ll have to do better than that. That line’s more used than the underground.” Dean settled against the bar and smiled. He was enjoying the spotlight this Adam character was shining on him.
“Well it got you talking so it had the desired effect.” Adam swung around to face Dean. Dean subtly scanned him. In shape. Good suit. A waft of something woody floated through Dean’s nose. He inhaled deeply. “Tell me Dean, what do you do for work?”
“IT consultant over at Plutus.” Dean delivered the line bluntly. He didn’t want to show too much interest. He was also painfully aware Jamie was still coursing through every part of him.
“Ah, Hugo’s stomping ground. Good money over there. He’s a fucking slave driver though I’ve heard.”
“Not all bad. He just wants the best. Can’t blame him. Yeah money is great.” There was a slight pause but Dean felt he wanted to know more. “And yourself Adam?”
“Wealth management. Freelance. No one can afford to keep on payroll. I’m really fucking good at what I do.” Adam smirked. Dean liked the bravado. It was simple. No complications. Sexy.
“Not that you’re full of yourself of course.” Dean grinned and Adam mirrored him. They looked at each other. This was escalating.
“Plans for the weekend?” Adam moved close. Their cuff links touched.
“I’m dealing with some stuff at the moment so trying to lay low. Probably just catch the sports at home.”
“Ah, a wounded soldier. I won’t ask details. Not my business. Sports sounds perfect. Our types seem to want to be out all weekend. It’s so childish. What’s wrong with kicking back on the couch with a beer, in your sweats and watching a game?” Adam moved closer. His hand rested against Dean’s. Dean didn’t pull away.
Dean laughed.
“What’s funny about that?” Adam said, his face closer to Dean’s. Now whispering.
“Uh nothing. More shock really. Sorry. It’s uh, I’ve never heard that being said before. I’m on board. That’s my perfect weekend.” Dean pushed his hand against Adam’s. Subtle but a signal he was interested. Maybe.
“I don’t usually do this, but want to come back to mine? No pressure or agenda as I said. I think there’s a basis for more conversation here? I have a beautiful bottle of Macallan just begging to be opened. Let’s talk sport and help you through that personal stuff.”
Dean froze. Was he about to do this? Technically he was doing nothing wrong. Wasn’t this one of the reasons he’d felt the need to end things with Jamie? To focus on himself? He made a decision. “You know what Adam? Let’s go.”
They made their way onto the street and into Adam’s waiting Audi A8.
Lars was on the pavement with a group of friends in the outdoor seating area of a bar. He recognised Dean instantly. He groaned. Dean jumped into a car with a grey haired smart gentleman. He thought maybe it was a business connection and this was a car service. His hopes were dashed. You don’t cradle the back of a business associate and trail your hand to the curve of their behind, as this man was doing with Dean. The huge black car moved away.
Lars gulped. His friends all looked at him. They weren’t connected to Jamie but this tragic love story, starring his best friend was big news and it had travelled to every zone of London.
He got his phone out.
LARS: Can I ring you?
JAMIE: Yes. No I’m not meeting you. I’m never going out in this town ever again.
Lars sighed at the message. Jamie was a ball of anger lately. This wasn’t going to help.
“Hello?” Jamie answered flatly.
“Hey. I need to tell you something but don’t know if I should. I…” Lars was a lawyer. Delivering powerful statements was the core of his career. When it came to Jamie, this intense being who cannot hide emotion, good or bad, they orbited Jamie like asteroids; unpredictably launching a huge impact out of nowhere, Lars lost his bottle.
“Lars I don’t have the energy for cryptic conversations. What are you talking about?”
“Fuck. Ok. I’m out in Canary Wharf and I, I…”
“Fuck. Lars. Spit it the fuck out will you?”
“I’ve seen Dean jump into a car with another man. Fuck. I’m sorry….” Lars’ voice trailed off.
“I gotta go.” Jamie hung up. He felt himself physically shake. He threw his phone across the room. It landed on the floor of Ali’s kitchen. A sting appeared in his throat. He gritted his teeth and swallowed. It returned. He knew what was coming. He ran to the bathroom and tumbled to the toilet bowl. Throwing up. Between cries and heaves Jamie tried to catch his breath. When his body was done rejecting the idea of Dean moving on, he sat on the bathroom floor in a daze. He looked down at his arm. Running his hand over and over. Then he hit. He punched himself repeatedly until he couldn’t feeling anything just a nauseating buzz. He wanted to feel physically as awful as he did emotionally. He lay down and stared at the grout in between the tiles. Wishing his life was as straight forward as the lines in front of him.
Somewhere he lost twenty minutes and startled awake. Cold. He clasped his hand to his forehead. The cramp in his arm, a reminder he was still in hell. “Lars. Fuck.” He whispered and peeled himself up.
Lars looked at his phone. JAI was calling.
“I’m a cunt. I don’t use that term often but this calls for it. Lars babe, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You were in an impossible situation. Thank you for telling me. What this means for me and him I don’t know now. I’ll have to make sense of it eventually.”
“Don’t apologise to me. You’re hurting. Jamie you’re a walking open wound for god’s sake. We’re here to keep you well. Are you ok?”
“I know that. I love you all for putting up with me. Well, I was sick. Dean is now physically making me sick. Correction, the idea of him fucking someone’s brains out in a bedroom in fuck knows where makes me sick.” He laughed emptily and tears came. Sheets, face instantly soaking.
“Jamie I’m so sorry. You two were my happy ever after beacon of hope. Actually, I’m coming to you. Don’t move.”
“Lars you don’t need to. I don’t want to ruin your night anymore than I have. Again.”
“Shut up. My best friend is in pain. I need to step up. We’re talking, drinking and I will make you fucking laugh by the end of the night. Sit tight babe. Lars to the rescue.”
LARS: Would be good if you could both meet me at Ali’s in thirty minutes. J is in a bad way. Don’t tell him. I’m surprising him with you two. Gabs please?
GABBY: I’m out the fucking door. Try and stop me.
TRIX: On way!
“I have to go and see Jamie. He’s a mess. Please tell me if this ever puts you in an awkward situation with Dean, babe.” Gabby stroked Richard’s face. He looked up, confused. He had no capacity for drama.
“No, go. Friends need you. He hasn’t asked about anything yet. It may change. I think he’s giving me a bit of a wide berth at the moment. I won’t say or do anything. Do I get a kiss before you go? Want me to walk to the station?”
Gabby kissed him. He was handsome. Rugged. Dean, unedited. She grabbed his face. “I’m ok. Thank you. Don’t wait up.”
“Love you.”
“You too.”
Lars met them at the foot of the apartment steps. “I’m going to the door, hang back and then we ambush.”
“Lars baby you’re so sweet.” Gabby stroked his face.
He started to cry. “Guys. This gay world is fucking awful. It moves at a pace that you guys won’t get. I feel so sorry for him. He’s mad as fuck but he’s the purest soul I know. He wants to love and just wants it back. Everyone assumes because he looks the way he does he’s fair game to be used. I’ve seen it before but I’m heartbroken. Dean was a brother to me. There’s two relationships that’s died in London this summer.”
They both looked at each other and grabbed him. “Don’t cry. We’re here. Let’s get our Prince drunk and laughing. Come on troops.” Gabby, always the mother, pushed them into the foyer.
“Police!” Lars shouted.
“Hey.” Jamie opened the door sheepishly. He ran a hand over his bruise on his arm. Lars clocked it. Jamie was broken. His blonde hair a wavy mess. His eyes, bloodshot, skin grey. Lars thought he looked smaller too. They’d seen each other recently but now, the breakup physical transformation had fully taken control.
“Come here.” Lars grabbed him. Jamie pulled his bruised arm back. Lars mentally took note to address it later. “We need a couple more chairs. I’ve brought the army.” Lars motioned to Trix and Gabby.
They ran and squeezed them both.
“Oh you guys. I love you.” The physical force of the love and support overwhelmed him. He burst into tears.
“Ok, in we go. Lars drinks. Trix. Behave.” Gabby guided them all into the apartment.
Dean sat on the sofa in Adam’s townhouse. He smiled awkwardly. His parents Holland Park home wasn’t far away. He swallowed down the pleads from his mother to reconcile with Jamie. Adam arrived in front of him.
“There.” He took the glass of amber liquid and took a swig. The sweet burn was welcome as it trickled down his throat.
“Wow. That is good.”
“Only three hundred pounds a bottle. I would expect nothing less.”
They quickly fell more and more comfortable into conversation. The bottle quickly went from full to three quarters empty. Dean was the most relaxed he’d been weeks. His eyes kept trailing over Adam. He couldn’t deny he was attractive.
Adam moved closer to him on the black leather sofa. “I think we both know I’m going to need to suck your dick.” Adam reached out an index finger and ran it over Dean’s crotch. Dean didn’t respond. He let himself be exposed to what Adam was going to do. He ran a finger over his lip. Part of him was screaming to stop. A louder part was screaming to push Adam against his crotch.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll take it from here.” Adam grinned as he kissed Dean’s mound. Dean wanted it but couldn’t look. He let his head fall back and let Adam take over.
Adam scrambled with Dean’s belt pulling his cock free. “Fuck, Dean. You’re huge. I’ll manage.” Adam claimed while pulling Dean in his hand with a greedy smile.
“Fuck.” Dean couldn’t hold it. He pushed Adam on to him. Adam jerked but took it. Adam was strong, Dean was almost fighting for dominance. It turned him on even more. Blonde waves replaced by grey bristles. Elegance and slight frame morphed into heavy and solid. The change was overwhelming. Dean was consumed. Unannounced, lost, he came in Adam’s mouth. Adam wrenched himself off Dean and erupted over his sweater.
“Fuck Dean. That was hot. What a fucking mess. No need for any late night dinner after that, how long has it been?”
Dean pulled his zipper up and went bashful. He wasn’t quite sure if he regretted what just happened. “A while yeah. Sorry. I should’ve…”
“Don’t apologise. Not had a guy’s juice in my mouth in quite some time.”
Dean was satisfied but didn’t feel the need or desire to draw the night out any further. They exchanged numbers and said they’d meet again. Dean wasn’t that invested but maybe it was something to think about.
He brought himself back down to earth. He needed air. He walked home.
Jamie finally laughed with his friends. The numbness the wine brought was a welcome reprieve. Lars saw his chance. Jamie was in the kitchen by himself.
“I don’t want to pry but are you ok? What the hell is that on your arm?”
“Oh shit. You saw it.” Jamie pulled his sleeve down uselessly. “I uh, my anger just took over and I had to hurt myself. Don’t worry it wouldn’t go any further than that. It was a childish thing I did when I was a kid.” He cupped Lars’ cheeks and peered into his eyes. “Lars please don’t worry about me. I’m in a bad place but I won’t do anything silly ok? I promise you.” He hugged him.
Lars hugged him tightly. Jamie to him, was an angel. A complicated, rare, tortured soul. More delicate than a crown jewel. Jamie was precarious at the moment and Lars was sick with worry.
Dean crashed into his bed. Now his. Not theirs. For the fourth week in a row. This night, he didn’t cry.
ADAM: Great to meet you this evening. On reflection, I wish I’d waited. That should have come later. Join me for dinner soon? Again no pressure, soldier. A
Dean smiled at the message. Here was someone absolutely minimising the chaos. Out there was someone who embodied it. He welcomed the peace but missed the person who was once here with him. He wanted to hear Jamie’s heartbeat. His delicate breath as he slept. Snoring was Dean’s forte. Asleep, Jamie was silent. The only time. The observation made Dean laugh.
He closed his eyes. Was it the peace he was enjoying or was he just now at peace? He wasn’t sure.
