ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright © 2016 Marcus Lopés

Cover art by Marcus Lopés

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, any events or locales is purely coincidental. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission from the author, Marcus Lopés, with the exception of quotes used in reviews and critical articles.

“What’s going on?” David asked, annoyed, at the series of thuds and pithy sighs coming from the front hall. He was in the living room, seated on the oversized sofa with the latest issue of Manhood spread across his lap. He didn’t look up, not until there was another loud crash. His body went rigid when he saw Peter standing by the front door, two large suitcases positioned on each side of him. When he could move again, he tossed the magazine onto the coffee table. He sat there for a moment longer, his gaze locked on the man he no longer recognized. He stood and made his way to the foyer.

“I think it’s, well, er …” Peter gave a languid shrug as David neared. “For the best.”

They looked searchingly at each other, the way they did years ago, when love carried the day, left them breathless. They were seven years older now. David, thirty-six, was tall and slender, kept his head shaved and was good-looking. His smooth caramel skin had the staff at the neighbourhood LCBO always asking him for ID. Peter’s face was fuller, his short reddish-brown hair thinner on top, but men still chased him and his GQ-style looks. Taller than David, Peter had a solid build but, at thirty-nine, sometimes the lines around his ocean blue eyes got him discounts on Seniors’ Day at the drug mart.

“For the best.” David’s voice was flat, like he was recovering after having had the wind knocked out of him. “I don’t understand what that means.”

“What good would it do? Understanding, I mean.” Peter spoke with an edge. “We’re long past understanding, don’t you think?”

David, clenching and unclenching his fists, tried to tamp down the rage inside of him. They were beyond so many things, beyond themselves — for too long held hostage in a life lacking passion, eroticism, some type of metaphysical connection. Outside of where there was truth. Outside of themselves. Unable to chip away at the harrowing silence that had implanted itself in them, in their hearts. A silence that had turned them away from each other and to a solitary life.

“So, I’ll …” Peter flicked his thin eyebrows. “I guess I’ll get going.” He held his gaze to the floor as he stabbed his feet into his shoes. He could no longer look at the man who used to make him feel buttery inside, the man who had made him believe in love again.

“Coward.” David breathed deeply. “You’re a coward.”

Peter didn’t flinch. “I’ll call you in a couple of days to figure out the rest.”

“Your keys,” David said, not fighting the crescendo in his contralto voice. “Go be with Brian.” David bristled when Peter looked at him again. “What? You think I really don’t know?” He shook his head. “That’s what makes you a coward, that you couldn’t admit that to me. Now you’re leaving … You say we’re beyond understanding, and maybe that’s true.” He held out his hand. “When you walk out that door, this isn’t your home anymore. You lose the right to come and go as you please. So, your keys.”

Peter’s gaze was locked on those round brown eyes that both excited and terrified. He swallowed hard. Giving back his keys took away his options, cut him loose from the one person he knew had, no matter what, loved him unconditionally. Why wasn’t that enough? Rolling his pursed pink lips, he pulled his keys out of his pocket, slid the two square-topped keys off the ring and placed them in the palm of David’s warm hand. “David …” Peter drawled. “I’m —”

“You’re sorry?” David raised an eyebrow. “As if that could possibly mean anything now.” He moved past Peter and opened the door. He found Peter’s gaze and held it, and in that moment a flash of recognition — that maybe they still did matter to each other.

Peter picked up his suitcases and walked out of the house.

David closed the door. Peter was gone, and so was the life they had built together. In the new silence, David knew he was the one who had let it all slip away. He had been just as cowardly as Peter. By letting the silence rule them, he hadn’t been willing to go to where there was truth. That was what, in part, had shoved Peter towards the door and out of his heart. He set the keys down on the oak occasional table in the hall, picked up the phone and dialled.

“What do you want, David?” the deep voice boomed into the line.

“Ty …” David curbed his urge to laugh. He and Ty were friends since university who studied law together. Ty was never one for niceties, never believed in their importance. “Just because my name appears on the call —”

“What do you want?” Ty asked, curt.

“He’s gone. It’s over. Really over.” There was a silence. “Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting all these years to hear?”

Before Peter, Ty and David were friends, then lovers.

David had tried to resist Ty’s advances to safeguard their friendship. But Ty’s charm, his generous smile and his boyish good looks eventually broke him. Those greenish-brown eyes especially that probed and delved deep into his core and made him feel buttery inside. In the bedroom, their bodies easily fell into position, knew intuitively how to move and how they fitted together. It was perfect, or nearly, except for one thing. Back then Ty wasn’t “out,” wasn’t ready for some type of public relationship. David, although he loved his best friend, wouldn’t live in the shadows again. He wouldn’t run from who he was and broke it off. It was a struggle, but they managed to hang on to their friendship, even when it meant sidestepping the undercurrent of desire constantly smouldering beneath the surface. When Ty finally stopped running from himself — was ready to commit to David in a bold, new way — Peter had already swept David off his feet.

“So he’s gone,” Ty said. “What does that mean?”

“It means …” David bit down on his lower lip. “The front’s door unlocked. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

Click.