Gabe got up from his place on the ground, stumbling slightly. It was raining hard, and he was soaked. He left the alleyway and didn't stop walking until he got home with his eyes red from crying and his clothes wet, stained, and dirty. His mother saw him come in and went up to him, fussing over his state.
"Gabriel, what's this?" she asked, running her fingers through his wet hair and reaching for a napkin to clean the bits of grit off his face. Gabe pushed her away and went up to his room, slamming the door behind him. He collapsed on his bed in the darkness, thinking about Bill. He'd been so stupid to believe that Bill was really into guys, or even that Bill had actually loved him. The poster on his wall looked as if it were staring at Gabe and he looked up and scanned it. The poster was dog eared slightly so he could look at Bill's number on the underside.
He got up from the bed and walked to it, caressing one side gently, the part with Bill on it, to press it against the wall tighter. He stepped back to look at it one more time, before ripping it off the wall and throwing it aside. He moved backwards slowly to land on the bed and lie down on it, not caring that he was soaking wet. It was going to be impossible to forget the night, but he closed his eyes and put his head on the pillow to try anyway. He didn't wake up until the next morning.
-
Bill opened his eyes, squinting at the sunlight that streamed in from a small opening in the windows. He looked to his left and saw her, the brunette girl from last night. She was sleeping underneath the covers in his bed. She wasn't that beautiful now that the makeup had all rubbed off, onto the mattress and sheets. He glanced down at his chest, which was covered with streaks of lipstick. It took him a while for it to sink in that they both weren't wearing anything, and what had happened last night came to him in a wave of events.
They'd gotten tired of making out over the dance floor and he'd told her to come up to his hotel room later. She did, and they'd had sex. He was so fucking drunk that he hadn't realized a thing. His insides were tearing at him as he recalled the things he had whispered to her, the things she had heard him say and guilt overcame him. He ran his fingers through his hair, still stiff from the hairspray and sticking to his skin disgustingly.
There were bottles of wine and broken glass on the floor. The hangover pangs in his head, his own retribution for all the alcohol he had drunk, made him feel more messed up than he already was. He leaned his forehead on his hands and started thinking about Gabe. The guy who'd put up with him for the last few days, the guy that, he loved, and who loved him back. The girl beside him stirred and pulled the blanket up higher over herself, turning to look at him. She sat up slowly and smiled at him, running her fingers through her hair. Anger and frustration came over Bill. He looked away from her.
"Get fucking lost," he said to her. He felt the bed move and saw that she had gotten up to retrieve her clothes from the floor. His disgust at himself increased as he watched her get dressed in the same things she wore yesterday. She picked up his comb and moved it through her long brown hair, tugging at the tangles at the end until she was satisfied. She turned around and strutted to the bed stand to pick up Bill's wallet and take out a stack of fifty dollar bills in it. He didn't stop her or say anything. He deserved more than that taken away from him.
"Fuck you," she mumbled, walking away. Bill heard the door slam shut and frowned, trying not to cry. The tears started streaming down his face as he realized he couldn't take any of it anymore. He fell back down on the mattress, hugging the sheets close to his body, feeling violated. There was only one person Bill needed now, the same person he was sure would never want to speak to him again. His cellphone was on the bed stand beside his wallet, and he picked it up, searching through his contacts for Gabe's number.
Bill expected Gabe to be sleeping now, but he needed Gabe more than ever, and dialed his number anyway. Gabe was a light sleeper, and he usually answered his calls after just two or three rings, but not this time. Bill ended the call and tried calling again, but there wasn't an answer. He reached Gabe's mailbox, and only managed to utter out three words while trying to control his crying.
"Gabe, i'm sorry."
Bill put down the cellphone, shaking with guilt, and stayed in bed longer to avoid doing anything else. It was only after about an hour when he realized he was covered with dried sweat and body fluids. He decided to shower to get rid of the stickiness. He went into the bathroom, turning the water as hot as it would go and stepped underneath it. The searing water burned his skin, but made him feel better. The lavander soap the hotel provided was on the rack in the shower, and Bill poured some into his hand. As he lathered the soap over his body the pain came back again, and he stopped, leaning against the wall of the shower to stop himself from losing his balance. His body convulsed as he cried out again, sliding downwards to the floor, a trainwreck.
A few miles away a phone had stopped ringing some time ago. Gabe's cellphone lay on the sidewalk, unnoticed by anyone. A homeless drifter walked by, stopping to pick it up and examine it. He took off the back cover and retrieved the S.I.M card, dropping it on the ground and stamping it into the dirt as he walked off.
