Chapter 2/?

Sometime after midnight, Mark came stumbling into his place. He knocked over his metal key dish and some of his bird books as he reached around for the light. Muttering curses at the brightness, he covered his eyes and made his way to the white couch in his small living room. He sat down and then wavered as the vertigo hit him.

Slowly he laid down and sighed deeply. Sleep. He needed sleep.

But he knew he wouldn't be lucky enough for it to come.

As far as apartments go, Mark's wasn't what you would call luxurious by any means. Sure there was a gatekeeper for the complex that was on duty 24/7 and watched everyone that came in and out, but it wasn't like the place itself was all that awe-inspiring. Standard white appliances, small kitchen, two rather tiny bedrooms, and one full bath.

Nothing to write home about. (pun intended)

Definitely not something you'd expect of a television star…or ex one as it were. But it was nearly three grand a month and was heavily secure, so it served its purpose.

His conversation with David had ended almost as quickly as it began. Mark wasn't exactly one to start pouring all his woes out to someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a perfect stranger. Even if for some reason he had felt like maybe it would be okay if he did. He didn't know David, had only sort of half met him once before, and had no wish for anyone else to pity him. He pitied himself enough for everyone, thank you.

But the man had been…off-putting. Something about him caused Mark's proverbial feathers to ruffle. Could have been his slightly smug attitude, or the way he just seemed to be looking for a way to poke at him somehow. It both pissed off and intrigued the musician to no end.

And there was no denying that David was attractive. Very much so, in fact. He breathed sexuality, and made your whole body throb with want from him simply looking at you…and yeah. Okay. So that may be a big reason for was why he was drawn to him.

When he had been in his presence he couldn't get over the man's arrogance to even see him as a sexual option; but now that he thought about it…damn. David freaking Boreanaz had been flirting with him! What the actual fuck?

Suddenly his cell rang which made him jump and then groan when his head gave an answering throb. Fucking hell, who was calling him this late?

He rutted around in his pants pocket and pulled out his iPhone. Looking at the screen he rolled his eyes. Of course. It would be the one he had been avoiding like the plague since February, after he had spent the night (once again) drinking his problems away and generally just wallowing in self-misery. He debated for a half second and then decided fuck it, he was still just buzzed enough to maybe have this conversation.

"Yes?" he exhaled, not having enough energy to even try and give a proper sounding greeting.

"Uh," Chord false started, "you picked up."

Mark blinked. "Yeah. I guess I did, since, you know, I'm talking to you," he said sarcastically.

There was a sigh, "I'm sorry, it's just we haven't actually spoken in…" there was a pregnant pause that set Mark's teeth on edge. He was wrong, he couldn't do this. It was too soon, even though it was June and The Event happened four months ago. "…well, it's been awhile anyway."

Mark snorted, "Yeah. You could say that."

That seemed to irritate his former best friend, because he said rather snidely, "Well it's not like I haven't been trying. You just haven't been answering. Anything."

Narrowing his eyes, the Texan responded in a similar tone, "Well I wonder why I haven't, Chord? Do you have any idea?"

Chord sighed at this, "Please don't do this, Marky. I didn't call you to start a fight."

"Don't call me Marky," the not completely sober man replied tiredly. "Only my friends get to call me that."

"I am your friend."

"Really?" he scoffed. "Last I checked friends don't fuck friends and then leave the next morning before the other one wakes up to even say goodbye."

There was a tense silence. "You're right," the other softly replied. "You're completely right. I'm sorry. I pulled an asshole move, and – "

"And what am I supposed to do with that?" Mark said and rolled over onto his back, staring at his flat white ceiling. "Why did you even call? Or keep calling for that matter? That morning I got the message pretty loud and clear that you weren't interested, but yet you've still been calling and texting me like maybe you are. And Chord, I'm sorry but…I just don't have enough empty headspace to deal with this drama too."

"I just…" he stopped and Mark could almost envision Chord laying on his bed, pillow under his hand and phone under his face as he stares out at his bedroom wall.

"You just…what?" the Texan asked him almost softly as he felt the alcohol causing him to become more drowsy and less…whatever he was before.

"I missed you," Chord's voice sounded thick, like he was choking on tears. It made Mark's own eyes water, but he sniffed and ignored it. "I miss you, man. So much. You were – are my best friend. We did everything together – and…"

"And now, from I've been reading on Twitter, Sam's been filling that void, just fine," Mark bit out. "What do you really want, Chord? It's twelve forty-five at night! I don't even fucking know why I picked up." He growled and pushed up to get off the couch.

"You picked up, because you miss me too."

That made Mark pause.

"You do. You know you do," Chord urged. "You've been replaying that night over and over again…just like I have."

"Don't play with me," Mark said. "I was right there. Right there. And you blew me off."

"Mark – "

"No!" he yelled and stood up. "I had to watch you fuck around with Emma and Naya and even all the sluts at all the clubs, and that was fine!" he almost screeched. He hadn't been this angry in a long time. As a rule, Mark doesn't get angry. He doesn't yell, scream, and throw fits. Hell, he doesn't even like to argue, really. The most he gets is bitingly sarcastic. He avoids real trouble at all costs. But sometimes, it sneaks up on him, and all the repressed feelings just come bubbling up like hot lava and erupt. He hated that. "That was fine because I could go on pretending that what we had was special. Even though there was nothing at all besides friendship. And you let me harbor my crush and you dangled it in front of my face, then you – yes you – took me upstairs to your room, and made me believe that what I'd been dreaming about was coming true."

There was a noise on the other end, sounding like a sob, "I didn't – "

"Yes you fucking did, asshole," Mark barked. "Don't even play that game. Yes, you motherfucking did!"

"I did not!" Chord shouted back. Mark deflated some, but crossed his arms. Ready to pounce if the opportunity arose. "I did not know that, okay? When you told me you were – you know…"

"Bi?" Mark said sardonically.
"…yeah…I didn't even think you could think of me as anything other than a friend. I mean, we were like brothers, basically. And I had no inclination of any kind to men, period. And on my birthday, it just – I was just – you were so – I don't know. I don't know, man."

"I was there," Mark finished for him. "I was just there, and drunk, and in love with you. And willing to let you do whatever you wanted."

"Well…yeah. But you have to remember I was drunk too. I would have never done that sober!"

Mark scoffed and then sniffed. "You are an asshole. You would have never had any interest in me sober. Wow, Chord."

"No!" he yelled in desperation. "I mean, yes – I mean – fuck! I don't know I just…I woke up the next morning and I realized I took advantage of you, and that there was no way to apologize for it. And I panicked cause I thought you'd hate me, and then – well I made you hate me anyway."

There's silence as Mark processes that. It hurt, hearing Chord's words. It hurt a lot. But he was right, at least to some degree. If he had that morning stayed, and told the amateur ornithologist that he hadn't meant it or that he had just fucked him because he was there and willing…well…he probably never would have allowed Chord to talk to him again. In fact, he's considering at the moment hanging up and just forgetting it even now.

But there was something holding him back. The fact that the other man had said that he had been thinking about that night. Reliving it. Could that mean - ? Does he even want to know if - ?

"How do you," he false started. "What do you feel now? About me and – and about that night?"

"To be honest," Mark held his breath at that, "I'm confused." Chord said on a sigh. Mark sank into the couch, along with his heart. "You have to understand, before you I never even thought about it; and then – yeah."

Mark just shook his head. Would he ever catch a break? "Perfect end to the perfect day," He said and felt the tears come to fore again as he chuckled humorlessly. "I mean I really, really, really, have such a shit life. It's almost unbelievable. Certainly pathetic, but – God!"

"Mark, I – "

"No!" He said sternly. "No. That is enough for one night. I am going to bed. And I am going to sleep until noon. And then I am going to figure out what to do with my mess of an existence. And you are going to leave me alone."

"But – "

"Alone!" he told him with a growl. "I need time, Chord. I don't know what you expected when you called me tonight, or any of the other times you've called me otver the past four months. But if it's for us to walk away buddy-buddy pretending that night never happened and all if well with the world, then you are naïve and stupid. Don't call me. If and when I want to talk, I'll get in contact with you. Good-bye, Chord."

With that he hung up and dropped the phone on his table, ignoring the protests.