This started as me just writing for the sake of getting some angst off my chest. As I wrote it I started to see it going places. At the very least I have a few chapters in mind.
And yes, this chapter is short and purposely ambiguous when it comes to identifying characters. I apologize and promise there is rhyme to my reason.
"Trust me."
"I can't."
"You can."
It was late. Too late for his husband to be stumbling through the front door. Too late for the pungent smell of alcohol on his breath and the, all too familiar, smell of another's cologne. It was too late.
"I'm yours. I've always been yours. Only yours."
"I don't believe you."
"I love you… please… believe me." A step forward, another wave of the stranger's scent. It was all over him. Over their house. Over their home they had made together. Together.
"Why are you doing this to us?"
A sad smile. A silent admission of guilt. Their eyes meet, but not in the loving way they use to. Now there was only sadness. He was tired. They both were. They'd done this dance before.
"We'll make it through this." And there they were, the familiar dance steps. Denial, an apology, and a promise of a better future. He'd forgive him. He always did. And in the morning they would both pretend it hadn't happened. There would be subtle apologies, a bouquet of roses at work, a home cooked meal, a surprise date night, and they would ease the pain, make him start to forgive and forget the betrayal. And just as the wound begins to heal it will be cut open once again. But he holds onto the tiny bit of optimism still alive inside of him that says maybe this time will be different, maybe this time he'll change for good.
They both know that isn't true. They both know he'll bring another man to their house while he's at work. And they both know that he'll come home early to find his husband passed out on top of another, their cheeks flushed and limbs intertwined, articles of clothing carelessly strewn across the floor, empty bottles of booze surrounding them. They both know that this too will be forgiven and they will continue the sad tango they've been dancing for years.
Had it always been like this? He closed his eyes slowly, searching his mind for the answer. Sometimes the dark cloud of the present made the past seem so distant, so unreal, like it never actually happened. There had been a time when they were happy, hadn't there? He raked his mind, searching for those happy moments, needing to feel them, to relive them, to remember how it felt to be in love. To pull the moment around him tightly like a blanket and let the feelings he hadn't felt in so long engulf him. He needed to feel it, to know this was worth it, because yes, there had been happy times, lots of happy times. And they had been so in love. He let his mind travel back to the real beginning of it all, graduation night.