Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!
Greg wasn't sure how it had started. The first few times it had happened blurred together in his memory until he could no longer tell which one was the real first. Greg had fallen in love with Nick within moments of meeting him, even if he'd never said a word. A couple years later Nick had gotten married to a red haired beauty and Greg had stood as one of his groomsmen. Then somewhere in between the moments Nick had started showing up on his doorstep, and they had begun an affair. They never spoke of why. They never spoke of when. In fact, they never spoke of it at all. Nick would show up on Greg's doorstep with that look in his eyes and Greg would open the door wider. As soon as they were alone and the locks were all in place Greg would find himself against a wall or pinned to the bed by a hungry Texan.
Afterwards sometimes they would lie together, but it was rare. Greg cherished these moments when he would get to hold Nick tight and pretend that the man was his. Inevitably he always went back to his pretty little wife, and Greg always watched him go in silence. He always sat for hours afterwards and stared at his wall, too weary to cry. It had been three years and countless times, and he still hadn't found the strength. He couldn't walk away; Nick was his drug, his greatest weakness. He knew that no matter how many times he told himself this would be the last time, he would never be able to say no.
He never said anything to Nick. He was sure that, to the older man, it was just sex. This was something that his wife couldn't give him, so he sought it from Greg instead. It meant nothing but a physical high every once in a while. He was totally unaware of the pain it was causing Greg. He was completely oblivious to the fact that Greg had loved him all along, that it was slowly driving him insane. Greg usually liked it that way. He was terrified most of the time that if Nick knew he would pull away. But lately, he could feel himself wearing down. Greg could feel his spirit stripped away a little more every time Nick used him, leaving without a word afterwards.
So that's how he came to be here, sitting on his couch with the lights off and his fourth beer dangling loosely from his hand. The apartment was dark and cold, but he ignored the shivering that had come over him. He would prefer to feel pain than to feel numb. He was so damn tired of feeling numb. He took another giant gulp of his beer as Nick's face swam up in front of his eyes, trying to chase the man away, but it did nothing so he finished the drink off and grabbed the next from the table.
I've been sitting here
Staring at the clock on the wall
And I've been laying here praying
Praying she won't call
It's just another call from home
And you'll get it and be gone
And I'll be crying
The bittersweet melody of a country song was playing from his stereo. Years ago he would never have listened to country, even with a gun held to his head. But lately he had found solace in the slow strains of love songs. His iPod had picked up a collection of music that was very unlike him, but it kept him going in his down moments. It was like a small connection to Nick, even if the older man had no idea that he did this. The small device was currently wired in to his radio and set on repeat, playing the same song over and over. Greg closed his eyes and let the words fill him up.
And I'll be begging you, baby
Beg you not to leave
But I'll be left here waiting
With my heart on my sleeve
Oh, for the next time we'll be here
Seems like a million years
And I think I'm dying
He longed to have the strength to beg Nick not to go. Every time he returned to his wife in their perfect little home it was like a bullet in his heart. Greg knew what bullets felt like. He had been shot on the job last year when one of the cops with him failed to completely clear the room he was working in. Nick hadn't even visited him in the hospital, and no one had guessed that his depression had nothing to do with his injury. But what could be expected? It was just sex after all; no strings attached.
Over the last few months Greg knew that he was breaking down. Sooner or later it would come to a head and he would let slip how he felt about Nick. But for now he was content to sit in his living room and fade away alone. The floor at his feet was littered with empty bottles from the past few days, and the table in front of him was lined with rapidly thawing fresh bottles, just waiting for him to drown in them. The fifth in his hand disappeared quickly and he reached for the next. It wasn't the best solution, but it was the only one he had. He didn't even have anyone to turn to. No one knew about it. It was a silent agreement that Greg only went along with so he wouldn't hurt Nick.
What do I have to do to make you see
She can't love you like me?
It was hopeless to think that this song could be anything like him and Nick, Greg knew that. But he couldn't help but identify with it. Which was why it had been playing in his ears over and over for an hour or more. He couldn't help but think that he could love Nick better than any woman ever could. He would kill for Nick, die for Nick. He would walk to Texas and back to bring him a little piece of home if only he would ask. But Greg knew that Nick would never ask. Greg wasn't what he wanted; only what he needed. The saying went that there was a fine line between love and hate, and Greg couldn't help thinking that they had been walking down that line the whole time. At any moment Nick would realize what was happening and he would waver. The slightest sensation could throw them off balance and they would fall on different sides of the line.
If there was any chance at all that it could turn out to be a happy ending, Greg would have tried to find a way to make Nick see all these things years ago. He would have tried words, or actions, or an anonymous letter, or something. Anything. But even from the start he had known that that chance was less than zero percent. It was in the negative percentile. So he had never tried, never tried to try, never even considered it.
Why don't you stay
I'm down on my knees
I'm so tired of being lonely
Don't I give you what you need
When she calls you to go
There is one thing you should know
We don't have to live this way
Baby, why don't you stay
Greg stared in to the bottle in his hand and wondered how he had let himself digress to this over one person. A person who obviously didn't even want the same things he wanted. He was starting to realize that all those people in movies and books were real. People did go through this; this feeling that the world was crumbling around you and all you could do was sit in the path of the fire, just waiting. Unable to move to save yourself because that one person had told you to stay, and you would do anything for them. Nick was his fairytale, but everyone knows fairytales don't come true.
The image of himself on his knees pleading with Nick burst in front of his eyes and Greg squeezed them shut, trying to ignore the small burning sensation gathering in behind them. The music notes were so thick in the air he could almost feel them on his skin, and he couldn't believe that after all this time, he was finally going to cry. He hadn't cried in so long that he wondered what it would feel like now. Would it be slow and soft and bittersweet? Or would it be violent, wracking, life-changing? He got his answer as the first tear slipped from between his eyelids and moved slowly down his cheek, almost caressingly. Nick never caressed him. The loneliness did.
And now he had the vision of Nick caressing him, and it was making more tears fall. He didn't make a sound, but suddenly he was overflowing. He sat on his couch, alone in the cold darkness, and opened himself up at long last. It was time.
You keep telling me, baby
There will come a time
When you will leave her arms
And forever be in mine
But I don't think that's the truth
And I don't like being used and I'm tired of waiting
It's too much pain to have to bear
To love a man you have to share
Of course, Nick had never said any of those things to him. But the second half of the verse struck chords in him that he had ignored time after time. He knew Nick was using him, but at the same time he knew that he wanted it. He knew he would deal with any amount of pain life could give just to be used one more time, to feel Nick moving against him and be able to pretend for just one more moment that it was real. He knew in the end reality would always crash back in and Nick's phone would ring. But those moments of pretending were what he was surviving on.
Was it horrible for him to wish that Nick would leave that redhead for him? He would be a home wrecker. The girl probably had some male relatives that would find him and hurt him. Not Nick, no one could ever hurt that soft-spoken charming Texas man. No, this was all Greg's fault, and Greg had accepted that from the beginning. This whole mess was his fault. Nick probably blamed him too. He should have stayed in San Francisco.
Why don't you stay
I'm down on my knees
I'm so tired of being lonely
Don't I give you what you need
When she calls you to go
There is one thing you should know
We don't have to live this way
Baby, why don't you stay
Greg could see in his minds eye the perfect house with a white picket fence out front and a horse ranch out back. He could see a black Stetson hanging up by the front door right next to a misplaced bottle of hair gel. He could see adopted children running to and fro, one wearing surf shirts and the other wearing checkered shirts. The fact that it was all an illusion made no difference, he still dreamt about it. Greg hung his head and stared in to his bottle again, wishing that there were even a sliver of a chance of his dreams coming true. His only solace was that there was still some beer in the bottom, and he was quick to finish it off; quicker to grab the next.
Bottle number seven slowed his tears, but not by very much. Greg stared ahead at the wall, at the blank television screen, and wondered exactly what Nick was doing right now. He was probably bedding down with his wonderful wife, a woman any straight guy in the world would be jealous of, and he was probably kissing her goodnight. Maybe they were doing more than kissing. Greg's stomach heaved, but he settled it with another swig. He wished he could be more than what Nick needed. He wished he could be what Nick wanted, what Nick had to have to keep sane. But he was forced to admit that if he left, Nick would just find someone else to give him his physical fix. He drank again.
I can't take it any longer
But my will is getting stronger
And I think I know just what I have to do
I can't waste another minute
After all that I've put in it
I've given you my best
Why does she get the best of you
So next time you find
You want to leave her bed for mine
It was this last verse that at the same time made him cry harder and dredged up the urge to laugh outrageously. He knew he was wearing down, but Greg was sure he would never actually reach the point where he could leave. He wasn't strong enough for that. He would never be strong enough for that. And even if sometimes he wished he were, those moments were always very fleeting. Because he thought that if he were ever to leave, he would inevitably end up crawling back on his knees. And by then he might have lost the connection. The thought had him shuddering.
And then a different thought took a hold of him. That one line held so much truth that his tears sprang fresh. He had given the best of himself to Nick. He had sacrificed everything of himself, his life, his happiness, his love. But Nick gave himself away to someone else. It was as if he knew just how to hurt Greg the most and set about to do it intentionally. It couldn't be that he really had no idea. How could one person do this much damage by accident?
Why don't you stay
I'm up off my knees
I'm so tired of being lonely
You can't give me what I need
When she begs you not to go
There is one thing you should know
I don't have to live this way
Baby, why don't you stay, yeah
Maybe Greg didn't have to live this way, but he chose to. He chose to stay here, time after time, just waiting for the next. Praying that someday he would be able to make some sense out of it all. The only sense he had so far was the sense that this would destroy him. It seemed as of everyone else in the world but Nick could tell that he was self-destructing. So many times he had fielded questions on why he had changed, why he was suddenly so quiet and dark and low. Why he suddenly drank all the time, and never went out to parties, and never went on dates.
How could they know that it was Nick doing this to him, when he was forbidden to tell them anything about their arrangement? Their affair. He evaded his friends and family, passing his sleeplessness off with different excuses. He explained away his behavior, saying that maybe he was just finally growing up. Whether or not he was fooling anyone he didn't know and didn't care. All that mattered was the next time Nick would show up on his doorstep to seek his body.
As the song ended and started up again, Greg missed the sound of his door opening and shutting, and the footsteps that slowly wound their way in to the home. He hadn't even heard the pounding on the door for the past ten minutes. He was so far in to the music and the bottles that he was beyond anything but listening to the words floating from his stereo. He cried softly as he silently mouthed along with the song, not singing because he knew his voice would break if he tried.
It took two more times of the song running through for his watery gaze to fall upon the dark work shoes he knew so well, standing across the room from him. He stopped rocking back and forth, briefly wondering when he had started in the first place, and lowered the bottle he had just raised to his lips. There was Nick, his hands in his pockets and his face full of confused wonder. They stared at each other while the song played once more, an entire way through. Greg searched and searched for something to say, and when he finally found something, he didn't even realize he was speaking until he heard his own voice over the music.
"Been listening to it all day. There's only two differences, you know?" he could hear himself saying. He wasn't sure exactly what he was talking about, so he settled for just listening to hear what else would come out. Nick's attention was piqued by the words. "The biggest difference would be that you don't say those things, and you don't feel that way. There's no dilemma for you, because you know who you want. Her." He paused and took a breath, never breaking eye contact. "And the other difference is that…even if I wanted to…I can't leave. Because I need you too much for that. And I know I never told you. I've always been afraid that if I told you it would ruin everything and I would be left with nothing. I guess I'm just drunk, and I have no idea what's going on in my life anymore." Finally he broke his gaze away and he stared down at his bare feet, splayed on the wooden floor.
The music cut off suddenly as Nick reached over and pressed the stop button. Greg closed his eyes, realizing he was still crying, and listening to the single footstep. Almost like Nick wanted to come closer but was hesitating. The thought almost made him chortle because Nick never hesitated about anything in his life. He knew what he wanted, he went for it, and he got it. Simple as that. Not like Greg; Greg had always wanted the untouchable. He had always wanted Nick, and Nick was untouchable.
"Warrick was asking me about you," Nick murmured in the silence, the room empty in the absence of the loud music. "Says you've been going down hill for some time now. I don't…I don't know how I never noticed it Greg. I'm sorry." He paused for a very long time, and Greg wondered where he was going with that thought. "Why?" the question jumped in to the air and burst with the brilliance of fireworks, and suddenly Greg was breaking. Finally he was breaking. His quiet cries turned to quiet sobs.
"I wish I could be what you want Nick," Greg spoke in to his beer bottle. "I wish I was good enough for you. I know I'm not, and sometimes it helps that a part of me is what you need. But you don't really need me after all, do you? If not me, it would have been someone else. I just…I wish I could have told you that I wanted you all along, even if you never wanted me. And I wish…" he paused and sniffed, momentarily unable to go on.
Slow footsteps approached him and he could feel Nick sit beside him on the couch, leaning forward to mimic his posture. Their bodies were so close he could feel the heat coming off the older man and he closed his eyes, welcoming it, wondering if he would get one last chance to revel in it. This was the defining moment, where Nick decided if he was still worthy of serving his addiction.
"What do you wish Greg?" Nick asked him softly. His eyes opened in surprise and he met his once friend's gaze. For a few seconds they stared at each other, then Greg blinked and more tears slid down his face. Everything he had held in came rushing up to the surface and spilling out in one simple sentence.
"I wish you could love me back, Nick," he whispered. Nick's eyes widened and his breath caught, but Greg refused to look away. He had revealed himself, and after so much weakness he needed to be strong for just this once. While it all fell apart he would stand in the path of the fire where Nick had placed him. He would let the fire consume him and he would not waver. Nick seemed caught up in the same flame. He was barely drawing breath as he stared at Greg in complete shock. That was fine. The longer he remained in shock, the longer it took him to reject Greg.
It seemed as if it took forever for something to happen, for Nick to move. Greg fancied that he could almost hear the Texan's heartbeat, strong and rapid in his throat. The heat of his body had risen a couple degrees, and his breathing was still shallow. Greg took these moments to memorize every detail about him. He wore his favorite worn jeans, snug to his form. Tucked in to them was one of his favorite shirts, red with long sleeves and a black stripe around the chest. Greg's eyes took in the slope of his shoulders, the lines of many muscles, the slight stubble on his cheek, the smooth expanse of his neck, and everything else he never allowed himself to talk about but spent hours thinking of.
Finally Nick moved. He took a deep steadying breath and rocked back in the seat, tearing their gazes apart for a moment and looking all around him as if seeing it for the first time. It struck them both that he had been here so many times and never stopped to really take it in. Now he took in the unnatural cleanliness of the home, and the absence of evidence that anyone but Greg had been in here in a very long time. He took in the lack of photos, and the abundance of empty bottles. Then he looked back to Greg, and the younger man knew exactly what he was seeing.
He was seeing the dark circles under his eyes that had grown so heavy they looked like bruises. He was seeing all the weight lost because Greg couldn't eat anymore. He was seeing the bone-weariness, because Greg was tired of life. He was seeing hopelessness, and loneliness, and emptiness. Greg knew what he was suddenly realizing too. He was realizing that he had seen every separate sign and never connected them together. He was realizing that Greg was unhappy, and slowly wasting away. And he was probably realizing that it was all for him. Not because of him, just for him.
"I should have known," he said, but Greg looked away and shook his head.
"No, you should never have known," he contradicted the man. Nick assumed a confused look and Greg sighed. "I was never supposed to tell you Nick. Because now you'll turn away and find someone else to need. Because now I'm going to lose you and I've already got a spot booked in the psych ward for it." He didn't really, but they both understood what he meant. Nick took a very deep breath and let it out slowly, getting up and walking across the room. Greg watched him silently until he waved his hand around at the walls.
"Why don't you have any pictures up?" Greg blinked at the slightly out of context question, but answered it anyway.
"Because you would be in all of them," he admitted truthfully. Nick turned and his brows were deeply furrowed, not understanding Greg's reasoning.
"So?" he asked, making Greg look at him like the answer should have been apparent.
"But you don't want to be on my wall Nick." He had thought it was so obvious, so logical, but the look on Nick's face was hard for him to decipher. The older man's eyebrows went up slightly and his mouth dropped open, his eyes going very wide and unfathomable. Greg shook his head and looked down at his own feet, suddenly realizing that this was the most they had ever talked outside of work. Words were never Nick's big thing in bed, and Greg tried to respect that. He always ended up biting his own lips to keep from crying out Nick's name, and babbling as he would, and revealing all his secret desires.
Nick scuffed his foot on the hardwood, absently toeing his shoes off when he realized he was still wearing them. He took slow steps back to where Greg was sitting and pushed all the beer bottles out of the way so he could sit on the coffee table facing him. The Texan pushed his hair back from his forehead and looked up at Greg. Greg just watched him, waiting. He almost had a heart attack when suddenly Nick reached out and pushed his hair away from his face too, almost tenderly.
"It's not that I don't want to be on your wall Greg," he whispered, his voice low and shaky. "It's just that I'm scared to be. I have a wife, and I never looked at another man. But seeing you standing there while I said my vows made everything all wrong. I don't know how I ever found the guts to do it the first time, and I never thought you'd actually let me in. But every time I show up at your door it's like world war three inside me. I'm so scared of what I'm feeling and so confused by what I'm doing. But then you always open the door and give me this look that tells me that it's ok. It's right. You scare me so much because…because I don't know what to feel anymore."
All Greg could do was stare as his tears came ever faster, ever harder, and his breath became harder to find. He had nothing to say to that, so he held his silence like he always did. He let his lover collect his thoughts and tried to refrain from throwing himself at a wall or bursting in to a reckless weep-a-thon. One of the two; he felt like doing both.
"I've always known what to feel," they were both surprised when it was him to finally break the silence, "but I always thought it was wrong to you." Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair again.
"I was raised…that it was wrong…you know, I never stopped to wonder what this meant to you." They looked at each other and Nick tried to look a little deeper than he ever had before. He found what he was looking for, even if he didn't like it. He could see the pain this was causing and right there he made a snap decision. He reached out a hand and placed it on Greg's knee. "I could try…" he didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to because Greg knew what he meant. His eyes widened and he began to tremble.
"Really?" he whispered. Nick nodded and Greg looked down in to his lap, a tiny smile forming on his lips. He began to think that maybe fairytales come true after all.