I think about the last time we fucked. Mike riding me, teasing me until I had tears streaming down my face, begging him, pining my hands, his fingers in my mouth,good boy—
That meant nothing to him.
I grab my blanket and wrap it around me, fighting the sudden cold I feel, the chill in my body I can’t seem to shake.
The front door opens around ten.
I’m leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee I’ve been staring at for twenty minutes, both hands wrapped around it, not drinking it. It’s not even hot anymore.
I hear him in the living room, taking off his winter clothes. His keys landing on the table.
When he comes into the kitchen, he looks the way I knew he would. Last night’s clothes, his hair everywhere, and eyeliner around his eyes. The way he’s looked several times since I got back, and now I know.
It’s the rumpled of someone who spent all night fucking instead of sleeping. There’s a mark on his neck that makes bile come up my throat.
“Hey,” he says, reaching for the cereal on top of the fridge.
This time, I don’t say anything back.
I can feel him behind me, the sounds of him pouring cereal into a bowl, milk, the drawer opening, and the silverware clinking. Sounds I’ve listened to every morning for months and learned to take comfort in.
I push off the counter and walk out of the kitchen without a single word.
That night, for the first time since October, I don’t leave my door unlocked.
The next morning, Mike is already in the kitchen, sitting at the table with nothing in front of him. It’s later than usual, but I didn’t sleep, and I don’t think he did either, based on the constant sounds of him moving around the house.
The sight of him does what it always does. Even after a week of this, even after Zara’s text, even after spending the better part of last night trying not to cry into my pillow. Dark circles have made their home under his eyes, but he still looks better this morning than he has in days.
His hair is wet and his clothes are clean. He doesn’t smell like drugs or alcohol.
He looks exhausted, but more present than he’s been in days, and his eyes pin me in place the moment he sees me. “You locked the door.”
I shrug, mimicking him as I get stuff out to make breakfast. “I figured you wouldn’t notice.”
He doesn’t say anything to that, moving to the coffee maker and pouring the rest of the pot he must have finished off himself, into a cup.
“You cheated on me,” I hear myself say, regretting how pathetic I sound the second it leaves my mouth.
He turns around, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, glaring at me for no good reason.Ididn’t do anything wrong.
“Cheated,” he repeats, pursing his lips. “I thought there had to be a relationship for that.”
Slamming the refrigerator door shut, I turn to him. “Don’t act like you don’t know what we are.”
“That’s the thing.” He reaches behind him for his mug, taking a long sip before continuing. “I don’t know what we are. You like me when no one’s around, but if anyone found out about me—” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “You want all the benefits of a relationship with me without giving a single thing in return.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” He pulls himself up to sit on the counter. “I’ve always made an effort for you. Since the beginning. I’m here for you whenever you need me. I’m always the one reaching out and being open about things I would rather not talk about. I changed the way I fuck for you to be more comfortable. I’malwaysthinking aboutyou.”
“And that’s not your fault. I like you. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Iwantto do those things.”
I let him continue without interruption. I don’t think I could talk if I wanted to right now.
“But it doesn’t go both ways.” His jaw clenches, and he looks down, the first sign that he’s not as calm as he appears. “You don’t give me anything. Something’s wrong, but you don’t say why. You tell me you’re gay, but I’ve had my mouth on you more times than I can count, and you’ve never once— Like you don’t even—” His voice cracks, and he looks away, the implication that I’m not attracted to him clear. And that’s crazy talk.
“Mike—”
