Date: Tue, 19 Oct 2004 19:58:11 -0400 From: jaylovenj@comcast.net Subject: FOUR BECOMES TWO CHAPS 12 - 14 This is the ultimate story of two men, Dave and Greg. Two men who discover a passion for each other, despite their current heterosexual relationships. If you find a story involving same sex partners not to your liking, or if you are not of legal age in the area in which you reside, please leave now. If this is what you're looking for in entertainment, please enjoy. Remember, the characters and situations are alive only in my imagination, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is totally coincidental. As always, this author craves feedback. Criticism only makes me a better writer. Please respond to Jaylovenj@comcast.net. I look forward to hearing from you. Four Become Two: Chapter 12 "I can't believe you're a fucking faggot, too!" "Huh?" I say, turning as I approached my car. Suddenly, there is a deafening noise and searing pain as my head explodes. My stomach lurches as I feel nausea overtaking me. Before the bile could rise in my throat, another contact is made as the perpetrator assaults my body. I struggle to see who is my attacker, but my head is reeling from the first hit. I'm thrown back against my car, my fall causing me to break my wrist as I feel the snap. I holler again with pain, but even the shrill of my cry is muffled to my ears. I roll in a ball, hoping to protect myself with the car. "I hope you die, faggot," my perpetrator says, before he kicks me in the kidneys and runs off. "Dave!" Pounding footsteps coming towards me is the last I hear as I slip into unconsciousness. I regained consciousness for a short while as I was wheeled into the emergency room. I could sense that I was in a hospital by the smell, and the sterile appearance of the ceiling above. "What do we have here," I hear someone say. I am trying desperately to focus, as everything in my head seems to have shut down. "Beating victim, apparent broken wrist, multiple contusions, seems to have taken a severe blow to the head. BP 60 over 80, shallow breaths." What are they doing? Oh, shit! Do they know this is a two thousand dollar Armani suit they're cutting? "Incubate. Start an IV drip, 0.5 saline solutions. Cross and match, hang two bottles O-Negative. And get x-ray down here, now! Stay that! Let's get a CAT on him." I feel myself being wheeled down a corridor. Someone briefly grabs at my hand. Why can't I speak? My body feels cold as I am placed on the bed for the CAT scan. I can feel goose pimples forming. I try to signal to someone that I am cold, but I can't make a sound. "All right," a voice says, "let's get him prepped for surgery." Prepped for surgery? How long was I out? My head is throbbing. **************************************************************************** "Greg, what happened?" Shelia and Annette came bounding into the waiting room. I called Annette to tell her what had happened. She must have called Shelia. "Dave was beat up. He's in surgery now. He looked awful, Shelia," I begin to sob. "Hey, now. Calm down. He's going to be alright," Annette interjects. "Who? Why?" Shelia asks. "I don't know. We were in the bar, down the street from where he works. I--he--left! We sort of had an argument, and he stormed out. I took care of the check, and ran after him. When I got to him, he was all balled up, bleeding, his face and head all cut up and bloody...moaning, in deep pain." "What were you arguing about, Greg?" Shelia asks. "What do you think, Shelia? I told him he was being a jerk treating you this way, and he told me to fuck off!" "Oh!" "Can I get anybody any coffee?" Annette wants to know. Two uniformed officers approach the waiting area. "Mr. Jefferson? Gregory Jefferson?" one of them calls. "Here I am, Officer. What can I do for you?" "We understand that you were with Mr. Welsh when he was attacked. We'd like to ask you a few questions for our report. These are only preliminary; the detectives will be by later." "Sure Officers. I don't know how much information I can give you. Everything was pretty much over by the time I arrived." "Are you acquainted with the victim, David Welsh?" "Yes. I've known the victim--Dave--for about six months now. He was dating a mutual friend of my lady friend, and we became friends through their association." "Do you know his occupation?" "Yes, he's an attorney." "Oh? Did he mention any problems that he was having at work?" "He wasn't a criminal attorney. He works on Third Avenue, near 59th Street. He's with Mason, Goldberg, & Wilson, Esq. I'm sure this wasn't related to his job, or any case that he may have been working." "Did he live here in the city?" "Yes, on East 92nd Street." "Why don't you tell us what happened?" "Well, I don't know what happened, but I'll tell you what I do know." I began to relate to the officers what information I did have, answering questions as they were presented. They made some notes, and seemed satisfied. They said once again that some detectives will be calling upon me to continue with the investigation. Then they left. By this time, Annette had returned with the coffee. "It's as if someone was lying in wait for him," she considers aloud. It had been painful for me to remember the conversation that Dave and I had regarding Shelia, especially when Shelia was there. Of course, I didn't give the police officers all of the details. I very well couldn't tell them that Dave and I had been sleeping together. Therefore, I let Shelia hear the harsh reality of their existence. "I'm going home." "Shelia, don't leave," Annette says. "Annette, there's no reason for me to be here. You stay. Stay here with Greg, if you want. Apparently, Dave has decided that we were a mistake, and he doesn't want me anymore. I'm sure not going to stay here and be humiliated any further." "I'm sure he didn't mean any of that. I saw the way he looked at you. That man loves you. Tell her honey," Shelia say, addressing the last statement to me. "Annette, I think that you and I should stay out of this. Look at what happened already. I kept Dave in that neighborhood, instead of letting him leave, and he ended up here. Interfering never helps." "Greg that's ridiculous!" Annette retorts. "This--this might have happened even if you had not stopped to speak with Greg. Don't go blaming yourself for this." "She's right, Greg. This is not your fault. But just the same, I'm leaving. Annette, call me, if anything changes." "Annette, honey, go with Shelia. Make sure she's all right. I'll call when he gets out of surgery, or if there's any news before then." "Okay. Call when you know something." "I will." I give her a quick peck on the cheek as she grabs her gear, and scurries after Shelia. ******************************************************************************* ********** "I don't know what it is, Annette." The girls are sitting on the sofa in Shelia's apartment. "I've tried to figure this out. Greg and I were so happy. I was hoping he was going to ask me to marry him, but you know how that turned out. What did I do wrong?" "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetie. Dave is just going through something right now. Greg doesn't even have a clue. We just have to give him time. You have invested too much time in this relationship to give up on him now. He'll come around, you'll see." "I hope you're right. I still love him." She begins to sob. "Aw, come here." ******************************************************************************* ********** "Are you here for Mr. Welsh?" a scrub-clad doctor asks, waking me from the nap I was taking. "Yes. Yes Doctor. I'm sorry. I must have dozed off. How's Dave?" "Understandable. Mr. Welsh sustained multiple bruising and contusions, along with a broken wrist and two broken ribs. We had to remove his spleen, and repair a nick in his esophagus. There is some swelling on the left side of his brain, and his kidneys are bruised. He is in serious condition right now, and frankly, the next twenty-four hours are critical. Our main concern is the head injury. We've given him something for the swelling--a new drug that has had some great results. If he awakens within the next few hours, we'll be happy. Right now, he's being moved to ICU. Does he have any family?" "Not here--in the city, I mean." "Well, I suggest that you contact them, if you can." "May I see him?" "You're not family, are you?" "No, but I'm his best friend. I have to see him," I say, becoming somewhat hysterical. "Alright," the doctor says. "This is highly irregular, but a friendly voice sometimes works wonders. He looks worse than he is. There are a lot of tubes and monitors hooked up to him. The worse is the bruising, so brace yourself." "Thank you, Doctor." "He's on the fifth floor. I'll alert the charge nurse that you'll be coming. But, sit here and pull yourself together before you go in. He doesn't need to feel the anguish that you're exhibiting." The beep of the monitors and the wheezing sound of the respirator assaulted my hearing as I stepped into the cubicle that was Dave's area. There were only two other patients in the ward, and their lifeline instruments were playing a symphony with his. He looked so pale lying there, IVs hooked up to his arm, a tube going down his throat. His head was bandaged, as was his ribs, and you could see the swelling and the discoloration of the skin. There was swelling around the eye, giving him one of the biggest shiners that I had seen in a long time. Wires were draped all over him, sending readings to this monitor and that monitor. A tear fell from my eye as I surveyed him. "Who would do this?" I said aloud. I moved closer to the bed, and looking around, I placed a kiss upon his lips. "Dave? Dave? It's me baby, Greg. Please wake up. Please. I'm so sorry. I should have been with you. Why? Why would anyone want to do this to you? You are so sweet, so gentle. So loving. Why? You've got to get better. Fight, Dave. You've got to fight. You've got to come back--to me. I love you Dave. Don't leave me--not like this. Please." I begin to softly sob, pain and guilt wracking my body as I look at him. "You love him, don't you?" a voice asks. I turn to look, and there is this older woman sitting quietly in a chair that I had not noticed before. "I don't mean to intrude, but it's quite obvious the way you feel for him." I jump up, startled by the voice. "I--uh--I--he's a friend." "I'm sorry for surprising you, and you don't have to apologize. It's just that when you see someone who's suffering..." "No. I'm the one that's sorry. It's that obvious? We had--broken up--and now he's here, and I said some things and he said some things, and now I might not get the chance to say I'm sorry, and those were the last words..." "You don't have anything to be sorry about. My name is Amy Carlton, and I'm here with my son. He was in a car accident. Pretty bad, but he's going to make it; I know it!" I smile at her enthusiasm. "And I know your friend will too." "Sir, you'll have to leave now," the charge nurse whispers. "You can come back tomorrow. Maybe his condition will have improved by then." "But he doesn't have anyone here for him," I counter. "Sir, if there's any change, we'll call. Now why don't you go home and get cleaned up and get some rest. We'll take good care of Mr. Wilkes. I promise." "She's right, young man. Go on home, and get some rest. Your friend is going to need all the strength you have in the next few weeks and months." "I will be back as soon as I can, Dave. You are not alone in this, know that. I--I love you." Four Become Two: Chapter 13 Greg is the narrator: "Hi ya, Doc," I say, getting off the elevator. "How's our boy doing today?" "Oh, hi Mr. Jefferson...Greg. Mr. Walsh is coming along nicely. I've just upgraded his condition once again. I can now say that he is in stable condition." "That's real good news, Doc. Real good. Has he awakened?" "No! We still have him in the drug-induced coma. His body needs the rest. But I am going to start bringing him out. I want him to wake up naturally, so, he'll still be slipping in and out for the next couple of days. He'll have more periods of sleep than he will be awake. Why don't you go in and keep him company." I enter Dave's room. He's been flooded once again with teddy bears, cards, and flowers from his friends and colleagues. I make a mental note to get the nurses to distribute a goodly portion to others on the floor. "Hi ya, Big Guy. You're looking a lot better tonight. As a matter-of-fact, you're looking better everyday. If you keep this up, you'll be going home soon. They're finally starting to clear the streets from that last snowstorm we had. I can't believe this city sometimes. Live in Manhattan, and you can get around. Live in the Boros, and you get shit. I hope you don't mind, but I've been staying at your place for the last couple of weeks. It didn't make sense for me to leave here, go by there, and then head out to Queens. Annette came by this afternoon. She told me that you were looking better, but I had to check for myself. She and Shelia have another big case. They are going to be representing Travis Hewlett. He's that guy from Malestrom that was indicted on 45-counts of mail fraud. Annette says that Shelia has really thrown herself into this one. She is still trying to get over you. I can understand that. The Doc said that you would be waking up soon. I sure hope so. It's been over a month now since I've seen your beautiful green eyes. I was so scared for you...I was so scared for me, too. I thought that I had lost you--forever!" Greg begins to softly sob. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I feel so guilty. If I had just let you go. I didn't come to talk to you about Shelia, I, I wanted...to see you again. I've got to go now. I'll be back tomorrow. You have a good night." I leave the room, drying my eyes before someone sees me. I move to the elevator, and am just about to step on when Shelia emerges. "Greg?" "Oh, hi Shelia. You here to visit Greg? That's a dumb question. What else would you be doing here?" "How's he doing?" "He's coming along. I saw his doctor. He said that he was upgrading his condition to stable, and he is going to start bringing him around. He should be awake in a couple of days." "That's real good news..." she says, pausing in thought. "What's up with you, Shelia?" "Greg, can we go for a cup of coffee and talk?" "Sure." "OK. Just let me peep in on him for a couple of minutes. I'll be right back." "I can't do this anymore, Greg. I--I don't think I'm coming back." "Shelia, what are you talking about?" "I--I am going to leave Dave alone. You know that Annette and I got the Malestrom case," she rushes on. "Well, it's gonna require that one of us be in Texas for a while, doing the research, repping the clients, doing a little investigating; you know the drill. Well, it's going to be me. I've decided that I am going to go." "But what about Dave? He really needs all of us." "Face it! He had dumped me. He didn't want me anymore. The funny thing is my mother...my mother always said that I was playing with fire by not marrying him earlier when he asked. Maybe I pushed him away one too many times." There is such sadness in her voice. It's really breaking my heart to see her so sad and knowing the real reason behind Dave's decision. "He didn't really mean it," I weakly offer. "Yes. Yes he did. I saw it in his eyes. He doesn't love me--anymore. Maybe he never did. Maybe we were just fooling ourselves. I realize, now, that he was just being honest, with me, and with himself." "Shelia..." I say, the words choking in my throat. "It's okay, Greg. I'm okay," she chuckles. "I just had to get over myself. That was a little hard to do, but I did it, and I'll survive." I look at her long and hard. "You are alright, aren't you?" "Yeah, I am. That's what I had to tell Dave tonight. Doctors say that comatose patients understand their surroundings. I hope so. I think Dave understood what I was saying. He seemed so much more peaceful when I left. I just wanted you to know. Thanks for listening. You've been a good friend, especially through all this." She stands, bends down and kisses my forehead, and walks away. "Doc! Hey Doc!" I yell, seeing Dr. Wetzel in the parking lot a couple days later. "Mr....Greg," he says as Annette and I catch up to him. "Dr. Wetzel, my friend, Annette Golden. Annette, this is Dr. Wetzel, Dave's attending physician." They exchange pleasantries. "I have some good news for the two of you. Your friend has been moved to his own room. He regained consciousness very early this morning, and has been showing major improvements all day. He's even gained some mobility with his upper limbs. Barring any complications within the next couple of days, he will be moved to a rehab center the beginning of next week." "Don't you think that's a little soon?" I ask. "On the contrary. He hasn't been up and about now for six weeks, so the sooner he is in a rehab facility the better." "I see what you mean. Well, thanks Doc. Are you out of here for the evening? "No, I'm just going out for a little while. I'll be back." "Okay, maybe I'll see you before you leave." "Oh, just want to warn you. Mr. Walsh can't speak--yet. His throat is sore. You know, the respirator." We nod our understanding, and make our way inside. "Hello, Dave," Annette says, as we enter his room. "How are you feeling?" Annette continues with her rambling. I haven't spoke yet, and I can feel Dave staring at me. "You're looking a lot better. You really gave us a scare." "Yeah, Dave, you are looking better. We were so scared that we were going to lose you. I know you can't speak right now, we saw your doctor in the parking lot. He says they are going to be moving you to a rehab center next week. That's real good news. You'll be up and around before you know it." "Dave, just nod your head," Shelia begins. "Do you know who did this to you? Do you have any idea why?" Dave nods his head no. "Well, I'm sure the detectives will be in to see you soon, now that you're awake." She rambles on for a few more minutes. "Well, I'm gonna go now, but Greg is gonna stay. I'm working on a brief that I have to have by next Monday. Being a lawyer, I know you understand. I'm just so happy that you are awake. I'll be sure to tell Shelia when I speak with her. She's in Dallas." "Annette, honey, why don't you get going. You have so much to do. Are you sure you don't want to take my car?" "Ill just take the subway. I'll be okay. It'll probably be faster than driving, anyhow." She places a kiss on Dave's cheek, and then one on mine. "I'll see you guys later." And she was gone. "Can I get you anything?" I ask, coming up beside his bed. How about some water?" I pour him a glass, and place the straw between his lips. "You're probably somewhat dehydrated...Take your time...Oh, you were thirsty...More?" I sit down in the chair at his bedside. I notice his hands and arms are a little dry, so I get the bottle of lotion, and pour some in my hand. I begin to rub it into his skin. "Why?" a weak, raspy voice asks. I stop cold what I'm doing. "Your skin is a little dry, and pale too, I might add. Can't wait to get you out in the sun." I'm clearly avoiding answering the question. "Why?" once again Dave asks, with great difficulty. I sit back down in the chair, taking his right hand in mine. I can feel him trying to pull away, but I hold on. "I thought I'd never see you again. I was so scared, Dave. When I saw you lying on that parking lot floor..." I begin to sob. "It's been hell, Dave. I've been living in hell. I'm not as strong as you. I don't know how to end it with Annette. You'll be happy to know that I haven't slept with her, not since this has happened. I thought I was going to lose you, that I'd never have another chance. I've been such an ass," he sobs. "Greg,,,Don't..." Attention all guests. It is now 8 p.m. Visiting hours are now over. The announcement over the speaker interrupts. "Look, I've got to go. We don't have the same luxury that we had when you were in ICU. You have a good nights rest. I'll see you tomorrow after work." I give his hand an affectionate squeeze and head for the door. Four Become Two: Chapter 14 Dave is once again narrating: It had been a long difficult three months at the nursing home. I had to relearn just about everything. I was still having difficulty with my speech. That why it's been very difficult to tell Greg that things aren't great between us. I have such a difficult time forming the words. It's very frustrating because I can form the words and phrases in my mind, but I can't seem to get them to the surface. I must admit Greg has been wonderful to me. He has been my constant companion since I've been allowed to come home. He's even started to work from here so that he can be at my beck and call. I try not to take advantage of him, since I don't want to become dependent upon him. I'm trying not to lead him on, since I know that there is no chance for us to have a relationship. Not that that is what I want, but his earlier actions have made it very clear. "What are you doing out of bed?" he asks, as I come into my living room where he has set up a corner workstation. "Thought I'd...change...scenery," I say in broken English. "Room...getting...claus-...claus-...small." "How about some lunch? Some crème of broccoli soup?" My jaw will still be wired for another week. "Really could go for Ro' Beef," I smile. He heads off towards the kitchen as the doorbell chimes. "I got it," he says. Turning, he opens the door. "Yes, may I help you?" "I'm Jeffrey Welsh...." "Dave's brother? Come on in. I'm Greg. Greg Jefferson. I'm staying with Greg while he recoups." "Jeffy!" I say, as my younger brother comes into the room. "Damn, Bro!" he exclaims, "What the fuck happened to you?" "He was attacked...seven months ago," Greg answers. "Attacked? Why didn't someone contact me?" "No one knew how," Greg answers. "From what we could learn, you were in Europe." "I...here...you know!" I interject, as they talk around me. "Talk...to...me!" "We're sorry, Dave," Greg apologizes. "Yeah, sorry, Dave. So, do you know who did this?" "Not yet. Police...looking. Not...yet." "I was just about to fix us some lunch. Can I get you something, Jeff?" "Thanks, but I've eaten." Greg heads off into the kitchen. "How long you here?" "Couple days. Got to get back to school. Do Mom and Dad know?" "Yeah. Came when in hospital. Sent home. Mom pain in the..." "Tell me about it. But, she loves us. They both do. I bet she wanted you to come back to Chicago." "Yeah, but pur...suad...ed to go home. Thanks...Greg. Where your bags?" "I'm staying with a friend of mine in Brooklyn." He looks nervous. "What is it?" "Nothing!" "Jeffy...can read like book. Tell me." He looks at me, considering what he's going to say. "Maybe later," he says, as Greg comes back into the room. "Here we go," he says, placing my lunch on a tray-table near me. Conversation continues throughout lunch. "Jeff," Greg says, after placing the dishes in the dishwasher and returning to the room. "Would you mind staying with Dave for about an hour. I just have to run this over to Kinko's." "Nah, no need to ask. Go ahead!" "Thanks." Greg grabs a disc from the computer. "Be right back." "Okay. Now...talk!" I say, returning to our interrupted conversation earlier. "Back to that again. Alright," he says, taking a deep breath, "just promise to hear me out before you make a comment." I nod my head in assent. "Okay," he breathes again. "My friend...the one I'm staying with in Brooklyn...I met while in Europe. One night...one night we got...close. We slept together. I'm gay, Greg, and I love him. And he loves me. I know it's not what you and the Rents want, but it's my life. I'm still your brother, and I love you. I just hope that you don't feel any different towards me. I mean, me being gay doesn't mean that I'm any different." He looks at me expectantly. I begin to chuckle, then begin to laugh. "What's so damn funny?" Jeff asks. "It's just that...just that..." "What? What?" he demands. "Unless Sarah has them, Mom and Dad...no grandkids." "What are you talking about?" "Me. I gay too!" "What? You gay? What about your girlfriend? Shelia, isn't it?" "Just realized. Not with her anymore." "You and Greg?" "NO! No Greg..." "Why not? He's cute." "He doesn't trust me," Greg says, coming back into the room. "I've really disappointed him, and now he doesn't trust me. No matter what I've done these past few weeks, Dave has built up a wall against me, and I haven't been able to overcome it...yet." "What happened?" "Greg, don't." "It's true confession time, Bro. Go on Greg." Greg sits down on the couch beside me, before he continues. "I...fucked up! Dave gave me his heart and soul, and I chewed it up and spit it out. I didn't trust...in us. We had gone away, sort of last minute, and for the good. While we were away, we suddenly discovered each other. But, as we were getting ready to come back to the real world, I sort of abandoned him. I wasn't ready to face what I am. A man, who happens to be gay, whose found the love of his life. And I'm going to spend the rest of my days trying to convince him of that, if he'll let me. That's what I told Annette, Dave, before I moved in here. I told her that I was being unfair to her. I told her that I realize I cannot love her, not the way that she needs to be loved. And, after we spent a couple hours of her yelling, crying, and trying to persuade me to come to her bed, she threw me out. I didn't tell her that it was you, but I think she figured it out. Dave?" I raise my head and look into his tear-streaked face. "I love you, and I want to be with you. Please, baby, please give US another chance. I won't promise that I won't ever fuck up again. But I promise I want to work on us together." "Greg..." I choke, my own tears caught in my throat. I get up, and go into my bedroom. I can hear Jeff tell him to give it time. Two months have passed since Jeff was here, and Greg's undying profession of love for me. Not a day has passed that he hasn't told me that he loves me. I've had the brace removed from my mouth, and have really worked to gain my speech. I'm walking better, with the help of a cane, and the ribs have healed. Greg was patient in weaning me from the pain meds. His conversations with me as I would go through some intense withdrawal pains, pain so horrific that I would attempt to become physically abusive to him, eventually got me drug free. We have just returned from the gym, where he has given me a complete and exhausting workout. "Okay, get to the showers, and when you come out, I'll give you a rubdown. You've got to be sore after that workout." "Yes, ole taskmaster," I say. "Smart-ass," he retorts. I climb in the shower, soaking in the heat. It feels so good. The first shower I was able to take when the cast came off, I stayed in for almost an hour. Greg finally came in to check on me, fearing I had hurt myself. I turn off the water, and step out. There stands Greg, towel in hand, wearing just a pair of boxers. He motions for me to step out, and he envelops me with the towel, gently patting away the moisture from my body. Being only human, and not feeling this kind of contact in almost a year, my body begins to react. I see as we enter the room that Greg has spread some towels across the bed. Candles are burning, and the harmonious jazz sounds of Amedeo waft in the air. If I didn't know better, this room is designed for seduction, and I don't know how I feel about it. "Lay down on your stomach, Dave. I'm going to give you a rubdown, or you're going to be really sore tomorrow." "Greg, you don't..." "Yes I do. You're not going to be moaning and groaning around here tomorrow. Besides, the way you feel in the morning will reflect your...enthusiasm...for your next workout. Now, lay down!" I pull the towel tighter around me, and lay down on the bed. I can feel Greg as he settles beside me. He rubs his palms together, letting the friction warm them, then he begins to knead the flesh of my shoulders. "You're so tight. Close your eyes and relax. I'm not going to do anything that you don't want me to do." I look him in the eye, searching for some meaning, then settling back onto the bed, finally relaxing. Greg's big hands feel so good on my body. I can't help but let a moan escape from my lips. I can feel my dick swell as Greg's hands travel down my body. He pours some eucalyptus oil in his hands, the flavor assaulting my senses; the tingling sensation making my nipples hard. "I need to get to your thighs, babe," Greg whispers. This means that I have to loosen up the towel. My dick pulses at the thought. "Dave, did you hear me?" "Umm, okay," I purr. I raise my hips, and Greg removes my towel. A gasp escapes from his lips. "You are so beautiful," he says, a thought he clearly doesn't mean to be audible. He begins to massage my upper thigh, at first lightly allowing his fingers to run through the hairs before he really molds the flesh. Soon, he has traveled all over my body, rubbing oil all over my backside. "Turn over," he asks. "Greg, I..." I respond. I can feel the heat of my embarrassment flood my face. That fact was amazing, since all the blood in my body was now concentrated in my throbbing cock. "That's okay." I'm obviously transparent, and Greg doesn't let me get away. "There's no need to be embarrassed. I've seen you before. Besides, if I don't complete this massage, you are going to be sore," he says, emphasizing each of the last six words. I slowly turn over, completely exposing myself to Greg. I look into his eyes, realizing it's the first time I've looked him in the eye since that day. What I see in those liquid pools of blue is truth: Lust, and love. They say that the eyes are the mirrors to the soul, and looking into his eyes, In that fleeting second, I see the truth in the things that he has been saying to me; the things that he conveyed to my brother. In that second, my guard was down so that my raw feelings were once again exposed. And I began to cry, silent tears at first, but then the dam really opened, and all the pain, all the betrayal, all the berating I given myself began to consume me. "What's the matter, baby? Did you hurt yourself? Did I hurt you? What?" I can't talk through the wracking of my body. Greg grabs me, pulling me to his hairy chest, letting me hear his heartbeat, and I cry even harder. "Shush," Greg soothes. "It's going to be alright. You'll see. Everything will be alright." I sit up on the bed, and reach for a tissue on the nightstand. Greg gets up and goes into the bathroom, bringing back a washcloth. "Now, you want to tell me what that was all about?" he gently asks. "Please?" he adds when he notes my hesitation. "You know you can tell me anything." "Jeff's gay, and in love," I say. He looks at me as if to say `So?' "And I'm gay, and in love," I whisper. A smile appears on Greg's face. "So, why were you crying?" "Because you hurt me, Greg. You really hurt me. Those two weeks--those two weeks that we were together, I did something that I had thought I'd done before, but I hadn't. I gave my heart away--to you! And you trampled it. You didn't have the courage to even discuss it with me. You just stole away in the darkness of the night. You didn't even think about me. I was confused. I was scared. And when I awakened, you know what? I was alone. Alone to sort out my confusion. Alone to sort out my feelings. I felt used. I even felt that I was getting my just desserts. I had been a bastard in the past. Using women to satisfy my own needs. Shelia was the first woman that I had ever allowed to get close, and she didn't get as close to me in five years as you did in just two months. So, I tried to put you out of my mind. But you wouldn't leave. I imagined us in all types of scenarios. The only thing--the only thing I had to divert my overactive imagination was my work. There, I was safe. There I didn't have time to think of what might have been. The only positive thing I did during that period was to end it with Shelia. I know it was not what she wanted to hear, but I couldn't continue to lie to her, or too myself. I didn't tell her the truth. I let her think me a bastard. Funny, I am." I see the tears that have replaced Greg's smile. "No, I am the bastard--and I was a coward. I never felt the way that I felt those couple of weeks that I was with you, and I didn't know how to handle it. I knew you weren't going to `out' me, or yourself. I was just afraid--" "Afraid of what?" "Afraid--to live. To be. To not be so-called `normal'. And to feel great while being abnormal." "But, baby, I've changed," Greg says, taking my hand in his. "I don't know what to do to make you believe me. But, I'm not going anywhere, not until you trust me again. Once you do, if you want me to go, I will. Just tell me what I have to do." I look into his eyes again. I see the desperation, and the exasperation. And I see the hope. "Greg. Just..." "Yeah, baby?" "Just kiss me," I blurt out. Well, that's the end of Chapter 14. Things will finally start getting back to normal between the two lovers. But there are still unresolved issues that must be dealt with. I want to thank those that have written and given their encouragement. There have been times when I had wanted to go to a curt ending, but then I read a letter, and I relent. I apologize that there has been several chapters without sex, but to rush through the recovery would be an insult to those who live life in real time. Thank you for taking this ride with me. Jay