My "Straight" Neighbor

I was shaking in my bones as the door slammed behind us. I turned to look at it, apartment 305.

I shook my head, tears just fell– and they wouldn’t fucking stop.

“Come on.” Denver urged me from the staircase, not a shred of guilt or remorse. I looked between the two, him and the door. I started to step towards him, shaking my head furiously as we descended the staircase.

He was fuming– and I was crying.

We walked out of the lobby door and I finally spoke, “What the fuck?” I stopped in my tracks, taking a good look at this man I loved. Was he the man I loved?

He stopped too, turned on a heel and glared me down. “What?”

I just shook my head and motioned my hands in the air, what does he mean; what? He rolled his eyes and stormed away, “Why are you walking away from me?” I asked, barely audible through my sobs as I tried to keep up with him.

He kept on, “Isn’t it obvious?” His feet were faster than mine, I had to jog to catch up to him in the parking lot. And when I did, I took his hand; slowed his pace and stepped in front of him.

“What the fuck was that?” I pleaded into those menacing green eyes, his face still plastered in red and anger. He shook his head, trying to step away from me again and I blocked him; took his other hand in mine. “Denver, look at me.”

And he did, with such a furious look that it shook me to my core. “Emily is a cunt. That’s what that was.”

He slipped his hands out of my grasp and continued his storm towards his building. I looked up at building six, back to Denver who was speeding away. What the fuck do I do? Calm him down? Question him? Go back and apologize?

But I ran after him, catching him as he opened his lobby’s door. I shut it, “Denver.” I seethed, my own anger rising with how he’s acting. “Talk to me.”

He pulled at the door again but I kept it closed, wincing as it ripped at my foot; “I don’t want to hurt you.” Then don’t, I thought. Just fucking talk to me.

“Is what she said true?” I blurted, just saying the first thing on my mind. And that surely garnered his attention as his eyes shot daggers at my own.

He scoffed in my face, “Are you seriously taking the bitch’s side that just kicked you out?”

“No.” I raised my voice at him, “I asked you a question. And I’m not her so don’t fucking speak to me like that.” Though my words were big; strong even– my voice was small and broken.

He laughed in my face, “Yes. All of it was true. Happy?” And he pulled at the door with all his might, knocking me out of the way and storming inside.

I didn’t bother following him.

Instead I stayed completely still out front of his building, silent tears strolling down my face. He cheated on Emily how many times? Was there more to his past than I knew of? Why is everything about us so difficult? Why can’t it be easy?

But as I stood there in shambles, a new emotion began fueling me; a new feeling washing over me– pure, cold and icy fury.

I turned on my heel as I wiped at my eyes, storming across the parking lot.

Was I mad at him? Yes. Was I furious with him? Yes. But I loved him.

I walked right back to building six, swung open the door and marched up the stairs. And I took a long and heavy look at those three numbers on their door, mustering every ounce of courage I had before I went to knock.

But the door opened and a red-faced, exhausted Roman stood there with wide eyes.

He hurried out and closed the door, “What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered, taking hold of my shoulders and trying to move me down the stairs again.

“Speaking my mind.” I tried to stay in place but he was much stronger than I as he forcibly moved me down the hallway; “Roman, get off me.” I seethed, though I wasn’t mad at him, wasn’t mad at Leah– it was Emily and Denver that my anger stemmed from.

He wrapped his bulky arms around me, hoisted me in the air and carried me down the first few stairs until I broke free. “Please.” He grabbed my wrist, stared deep in my eyes; “Please, leave it alone for the night.” I could see the exhaustion, see the hurt in his eyes.

So I stopped, took a last look up the stairs and stormed my way down them.

Roman met me outside, grabbed my wrist again and spun me; “Max.” He protested, “Do you need someone to talk to?” And with just one more look in those big brown, teddy bear eyes of his– I broke.

All that anger took to the back burner, replaced by everything that’s happened the last twenty four hours. Wes, the bonfire, this morning, that envelope, what just happened. And I broke down, letting the tears fall from my face once again.

He wrapped me in a warm hug, held me as I shook the emotions from my body.

I finally composed myself, took a step away as I shook my head; “Roman what the fuck just happened?” I asked.

He too shook his head, “I don’t fucking know.” I could just tell he was being honest, “I’ve never seen them argue like that.”

“But they do?” I questioned, “Argue?” He nodded his head, “And they make up?”

He broke eye contact, letting out a loose breath; “Usually.” He said, a soft smile on his lips as he put a firm hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

I nodded too, trying to clear my head; trying to remember the people I got to know– not the people I met tonight.

“They’re both gonna need a minute.” He squeezed again, “Are you okay though?”

And that’s when I really remembered exactly what she had said to me, how beyond furious she was with me. I frowned, “I guess.” I peered up at their building again, “Did I just ruin a seven year friendship?” I asked, seriously enough to wipe the smile from his face.

But he shook his head, “We’ve been through worse.” He said quietly, “But I gotta go calm him down before he breaks something, are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded and he patted my shoulder for a last time, smiling with tight lips as he walked towards his building.

What must the neighbors think of them? Of us?

Before I decided to do anything brash again, I turned on my heel and walked home; locking my door and falling into my couch. How did this happen? I groaned into my hands, why would they let this go so far?

My mind wouldn’t stop replaying it. Their bickering, their argument; the hateful words they used with each other.

Who was Amanda? Or Gail or Sabrina or Margot or Haley? Were they really all girls Denver cheated with, was he really that type of person?

Emily referenced his past, that his next girl deserved to know it. What was she talking about? Certainly it couldn’t be about his parents… that would be pure evil it was. So it must be something else, has got to be something else.

My phone chimed, a text from Leah. Are you okay?

I just replied with the only thing on my mind.

Do you hate me?

She replied instantly. No of course not! Emily doesn’t either, she’s mad at Denver, not you.

Well she could’ve fooled me. Are you alone?

Kinda sorta. I’m in my room, why? She responded.

I replied. Can you talk on the phone?

And it wasn’t more than a second before my phone started ringing. “Hey.” I spoke softly.

“Are you okay?” She asked again, a friendly soft tone; much different than her friend’s.

I sighed, “I think so.” I started, “I’m home alone trying to figure out what to do. What should I do?” I asked her, pleaded her.

But she sighed too, “I don’t know. I think they need some time first off.” She started but I cut in.

“What about me though? Am I just supposed to wait until they fix things? Am I not allowed over anymore?” I started to ramble, felt my voice start to choke again.

She cut in now, “I will handle Emily.” She assured me, “She had no right to go off on you like that, but just remember that them two have a long long history.” I sniffled in between her words, “I know she didn’t mean what she said. But she’s still angry, nothing will be fixed overnight.” She finished.

It’s crazy how level headed her and Roman are. It’s like they are the constant mediators between their best friends.

“Okay.” I said, “Can you just keep me updated.”

I could almost hear her smile through the phone, “Of course.” And there was a pause, “And Max, don’t blame yourself for this. Please don’t blame yourself.” It’s like she read my mind.

“Okay I won’t, thank you.” I added quietly.

I heard her take a sharp inhale, “Good, you’re welcome. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay.” And the phone hung up.

And regardless of our brief conversation, despite what Roman and Leah said to try and soothe my mind; my conscience. The tears welled again and I let them fall freely in the comfort of my dimmed living room.

---

The next morning felt excruciatingly long. I tried to sleep in, tried to avoid the non-stop thinking; but I couldn’t. Sunlight bursted through my window just short of eight, burning my eyes awake. But the thought of climbing out of my sheets had me stuck in place, thinking and thinking— too much thinking.

I dreamt of my parents house oddly enough, a kid again; staring out of my bedroom window. It was dusk, dad was getting home from work and I could smell dinner being made downstairs. But I was up in my window. That fuzzy feeling overwhelmed me as I thought I was doing something wrong, something I’d do often enough that my chest felt heavy; like I was there again.

That boy next door kicked his soccer ball around, smiling to himself; enjoying himself.

I wish I could go out there— go out there and ask to play, to not be silent at our bus stop.

But my tummy swarmed all the same, a bright smile to my face. Victor was his name, Victor Bolas. And he’d always be outside, always kicking that ball or bouncing on his trampoline. He had a swing too, one with a tire at the end.

Simpler days they were. Too young to understand, too naive to care. The world was a snowglobe, just me and my parents; my neighbors and school. Not much else mattered— until everything started to matter.

Being back there didn’t help me, didn’t help these thoughts that kept me awake. I wanted to skip forward; or jump back in time, anything to not deal with today. But that’s life isn’t it? Being an adult? I couldn’t look out of the window, and just… watch and exist. Those days were long over, and my mind knew that; but maybe that’s why? Maybe I needed a little shred of innocence, needed a shred of time where looking forward wasn’t just easy— but instinct.

I rubbed at my temples, fuck being an adult.

But I got myself up eventually, decided I’d start work early— work all day if I have to.

Though that didn’t last long. Before lunch I had my first formal reminder of last night’s blow up.

Hey, how’re you doing? Leah texted me.

And I knew it was out of care, but I hated that she broke my focus. I’m okay. I responded, followed by— Is Emily?

Despite everything she said to me, I still cared for her; still liked her. And it crushed me that I felt like she hated me, God I hate when people hate me; especially when I feel like I haven't done anything wrong. I mean, well maybe I did? I did lie; withhold— however you put it. 

But I cared what she thought of me, my friend. We are still that right? Friends?

She responded. I think so, I’m at work right now. Just checking on you.

Well thank you. I replied. I just wished I could know more than that, could look through the window and see her; see what she’s doing— see what she’s feeling. As stalker-ish as that sounds, the uncertainty is what stirred me most.

But who I really wanted to see, who I really wanted to talk to; was Denver. I hadn’t heard from either of the boys, I mean— I know they were working, but I desperately needed to hear from him. All I want is some explanation, some reasoning; but most of all— his voice.

There was his history of course, everything that Emily said; everything that he admitted to doing.

And then there were his actions, what he said— it was wrong. Those personal problems he brought to everyone’s attention, the way he spoke to her; his tone— that wasn’t him. That wasn’t the Denver I know. Especially when he told everyone; how he told everyone. It wasn’t a nice message, it wasn’t a declaration of us— it was ammo to hurt his friend.

It pissed me off that he used us in such a way, threw us in her face out of spite— out of anger.

But then that other part of me remembers that despite the way he did it… he did it. He told everyone, the secret was out— we could be us, mostly anyways. And that part made my stomach flutter, letting that boy in the window be free.

It was a mix. All day.

But by the end of my work day, after I mentally blocked the noise— silenced my phone; I hit the gym, cooked myself dinner. I did all those things that I enjoyed, all those things I did before everything got so complicated.

Until someone knocked on my door.

It was him— Denver on the other side. Just the sight of him made my heart skip a beat, rattle in my bones as I prepared to open the door.

But I did… “Hi.” I smiled softly, heart racing as I met his eyes; those sullen dark eyes that looked back at me through hooded lids.

“Hi.” He said quietly. He was in shorts and a t-shirt, slides on his feet like he just took a shower. “You haven’t responded to any of my messages.” He added, not with attitude; just an equally soft voice.

I sucked in a breath, “I know.” I stated, “I needed to turn my phone off.” I admitted.

He nodded his head slowly, his eyes glued to the ground with a subtle smirk forming on his lips. “I wanted to come say sorry.” He raised his head, along with a bouquet of store-bought roses from behind his back. “And give you these.” He flashed a smile above the flowers, extending them to me.

A blush ran to my cheeks as I took them, the cellophane crinkling in my hands; admiring the deep reds. 

“They’re beautiful.” I breathed out, looking up from the petals and meeting those eyes of his; “Thank you.”

He breathed a chuckle, “Can I come in?” He asked me, teetering on his heels.

He didn’t have to ask though, he could’ve walked right in and I wouldn’t have thought twice. But it was the gesture of it all, it was always a gesture; that sweet part of him that I fell in love with. “Of course.” I backed in, holding the door open for him.

His feet took a side step inside, keeping his eyes on me as he entered. “Your apartment looks clean.” He spoke to the ceiling as I closed the door, “Very clean.” He trailed with his hands finding his pockets.

“Denver.” I started, earning his turn and look; but I choked on my words— stared at the roses; “Let me put this in a vase.” I averted my own forwardness, setting the wrapped flowers on the island; searching for a vase in my cupboard.

He sighed from behind me, “I’m really sorry.” He said with my back turned, “That’s not how I wanted to tell them.” His voice was low, almost inaudible as I faced him with glass in my hand.

I wanted him to talk, I wasn’t ready to forgive; wasn’t ready to let things go back to normal until he came clean.

So I just nodded and turned to fill the vase with water. “Is everything okay?” He asked, water splashing into the bottom of the vessel; filling the pause between us.

“I’m okay.” I answered, finally turning the faucet to stop the noise, facing him with the full vase.

He nodded slowly, “Good,” he watched as I picked for the flower food; strapped to the stems in a rubber band. “But what about everything else?” His fingers tapped on the granite.

I ripped at the small package, emptied it into the vase and swirled the water; looking into his eyes— “You tell me.” Is all I said.

His fingers tapped louder, “Well…” he started, a knowing look to his face; “I think I really fucked up last night, said things I shouldn’t have…” my brows raised as I grabbed the bouquet, “And now I think you look at me differently.”

I met his eyes as I dropped the stems into the water. He was procrastinating, beating around the bush; whatever you’d like to call it. But I was done with that, so I spoke up; “I think that what happened last night was messy.” I was honest, “I think you owe apologies to everyone.” I tried holding him accountable.

He just nodded again, “You’re right.” letting his fingers stop the tapping; “It’s you that I owe the biggest apology too.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes directly, “You didn’t need to hear half of what we said to each other, and I’m sorry.”

And he was right about that… “But I did hear it.” I said back to him, “I will forgive you, I’ll always forgive you.” He scratched through his hair, eyes still not looking at me; “But I’ve spent all night and all day today thinking about who those girls were, what Emily said about your future girl needing to know. Because that’s me– what do I need to know?” And he finally raised his eyes to mine.

“I cheated, yes.” He nodded his head, lips in a straight line; “Many many many times.” He took a hard breath, “I wasn’t happy in our relationship. Emily and I shouldn’t have tried to make something that didn’t work– work, for so long.” We stayed on opposite sides of the island, “I know cheating wasn’t the answer but I did it, and I’ve apologized a million times for it.”

I shook my head as those emotions started to stir again, “You must know how that makes me feel, Denver.” I shut my eyes, I only wanted to hear him; could only hear him– facing him was becoming all too difficult.

“I know.” He started, more desperation in his voice; “Once a cheater, always a cheater, right? That’s what you’re thinking?” He asked.

I shook my head hard, “I’m trying not to.”

And next thing I know his voice traveled behind me, “Please,” a hand of his descended to mine laying flat on the island, “don’t get rid of me.”

My heart bursted at those words. Don’t get rid of me. Is that what he thinks I’m planning? Is that the kind of person he thinks I am?

I turned to face him, our bodies just inches away as I shook my head; “I would never get rid of you, Denver.” I bit on my bottom lip, “I just need the truth from you, because recently there’s been more and more coming out that I don’t think you would’ve ever told me.” His eyes were dark as he listened, jaw tensed as he understood.

“Emily made it seem like I’m a monster.” He grabbed at my hands, shook me in emphasis to listen; “I’m not.” He whispered, “I swear I’m not.”

And then he took a deep inhale, spewing everything I needed to know; “I was a normal fucking kid right? Then my world was turned upside down, for years after my parents died.” I couldn’t help my heart from lurching to his, “And living with my best friend was cool and all until it wasn’t. His dad took a liking to me– from pity? Love? I don’t know, but he favored me; took me to the Ravens and Orioles games, pushed me into sports. A lot of them never liked me for that. And for a long time I was beginning to think it was me and Roman against the world.” He chuckled, reminiscing; “But that didn’t age well.”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t a nice teenager. I acted out and got in fights and did whatever drugs I could get my hands on because I could. Because I could get away with it. I was spoiled, over spoiled. And that mentality didn't go over well with girls. I could barely ever apologize, could barely ever own up to my mistakes. And then I met Emily.” He broke from my hands, pacing the kitchen.

“Yeah, I met Emily first. She was fierce and  spoke her mind and got in just as much trouble as I did– we gravitated towards each other, but for all the wrong reasons. She had her own issues and I had mine. And that only ended in her allowing me to act how I wanted, always taking me back even when I didn’t deserve it.” I felt out of place, listening to the story of them. “But her best friend started dating mine. We became this four and we felt… stuck to one another. Like we had to make it work, like we couldn’t just be friends.”

“And it snowballed.” He whispered, “On and off and on and off for so God damn long.” He stopped the pacing, stood in front of me with those warmed eyes; “And no one had a clue I liked guys.” He said. “I decided that they couldn’t know.” He shook his head, another chuckle; “The can of worms that would open.”

But I finally stepped in, “Denver…”

But he cut me off, “Would I be the favorite anymore? Would I be able to get away with whatever anymore? Probably not, not if I was gay.”

“Wes is gay.” I spoke.

He nodded, “This was way before he ever came out.” He leaned against the island, “Most importantly I thought about Emily, what she would think about it; if she’d think that everything we had was a lie.” I didn’t want to hear this, but I had to– he shrugged, “So I did everything to make her hate me but it never worked.”

“You cheated on her to make her hate you?” I asked and he nodded, “Eventually yeah. But then I would have my moments too, those moments where I realized that no one knew me like she did; that no one would accept me the way she did. So we always landed back together.”

I nodded, “Is that still the case?” I had to ask, had to know.

His eyes widened, “No.” He took my hands again, “Fuck no.” He pulled me into him, “I seriously like you and only you right now. But that’s my story, that’s what you wanted.”

And I took a moment to really digest it. Of course his parents' accident would affect him, it makes sense that Roman’s family would pamper him. Everything made sense, all of it. But that nagging fear couldn’t be wiped. What if he cheated on me?

But instead I wrapped him a hug, I just knew he needed it; and he melted into me.

“I forgive you.” I stated, “You are not damaged goods Denver.” I pulled away, looked him in those eyes that were overfilled with joy; “You’re just complex.”

He smiled, wrapped me in another hug and squeezed out my breath.

“I will never act like that again.” He whispered in my ear, “And I’ll never hurt you.” He then pulled away, “Please believe me.”

I smiled up at him, “I do.”

And though my words came easy, forgiving him came easy. Of course there was the doubt. All of this was fresh, all of this was new– but I loved him. Nothing could change that right now.

“But if you ever scream at me like that.” I put a finger in his chest with a teasing smile, “Just know, I’m gone.”

Even as a tease, I think we both understood how serious I was.

And I wasn’t going to harp on him all night, wasn’t going to beat the life out of someone who already spoke their piece. I had to trust him, isn’t that what this was?

And when that finally clicked, I asked; “So everyone knows now.” I said quietly, well– mostly everyone now.

He nodded, “Mhm.”

I took a sharp inhale, “What does that mean for us now?”

And I think the question took him back for a second. I wasn’t declaring we were… boyfriends… no, not yet. But what were we? Dating, officially?

He smiled though, cupping my face in his hands; “It means…” He kissed me tenderly, “That I can do this whenever I want to.” And he kissed me again.

“Wherever I want to.”

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A/N - this one hurt my heart... pls comment!