Fic: Five Sexual Encounters Gus Never Had... (R)
Happy New Year, everyone! :D
In honor of britfacexx being one my favorite people in the world, I am posting in our community the Gus fic I wrote her. Darling, thanks again for sticking with me for the fourish years it took me to complete this. You will always be my bLJf! ♥♥♥
Title: Five Sexual Encounters Gus Never Had (but totally would have if Queer as Folk hadn’t been canceled when he was five)
Rated: R (despite the title, there is nothing remotely graphic)
Dedicated: To the lovely Jordan, who put up with the fact that this about FOUR YEARS late. Yeah, really. I love you, Jordan! You deserve so much more than this fic can offer.
Shippers: Gus/JR; Gus/Hunter; Gus/Daphne; Gus/Ethan; Gus/Justin
Note: Sometimes he’s gay, sometimes he’s straight. Sometimes he’s bold, sometimes shy, often confused. There is almost always a huge age difference and one time there is (pseudo?) incest! The different sections do NOT exist in the same universe. They are each their own entity. They are; however, arranged in order of Gus’ age from youngest to oldest. I am not sure why either.
1. Gus/JR
It isn’t like you two are actually related. Not really, anyway.
It doesn’t matter how many times your moms tell you that you are brother and sister; it still doesn’t make it true. You and JR have discussed it countless times. It isn’t just you two justifying things. Honestly. Your birth parents are Lindsay and Brian. JR’s birth parents are Melanie and Michael. There is zero blood relation there.
So really you have no reason to feel guilty about the fact that JR is standing naked in front of you.
The only explanation for your nerves must be that you have never done this before. You may be a few years older than JR (but not, like, sickeningly older in a gross way because there is nothing wrong with what is happening here) but you still never actually had sex before. And so standing in front of a beautiful, naked female body is naturally nerve-wracking.
You start to feel yourself blush when you pull down your boxers and are standing there in just socks. It is the pair JR’s mom got for you last week during some big sale, and it is so much easier to think “JR’s mom” rather than “mom”, or to remember a family dinner where your parents when cooking and kissing in the kitchen and you and JR were stealing kisses of your own in the living room.
Everyone says that you can choose who is included in your family. In college your dad chose your mom, and later your mom chose to be with JR’s mom. Uncle Michael chose Uncle Ben and Uncle Ted has Uncle Emmett. So can’t you choose who isn’t part of your family? Can’t you decide not to accept JR as your sister? Can’t you decide exactly what JR should be to you?
Because you would really rather think of JR as this beautiful girl you sort of couldn’t help falling for. Not the little sister you used to help keep occupied during holidays when the adults didn’t want to deal with the children. JR, with her beautiful skin and open eyes, has never judged you.
You can kiss her on lips that have never said a cruel word to you because you aren’t related.
You do kiss her on each breast because you aren’t related.
You tell yourself you kiss her because you can. Because you aren’t related. Not even a little bit.
By the time you kiss either thigh, you almost even believe it.
2. Gus/Hunter
“You know, you used to be kind of a fugly looking kid.”
You stop unzipping Hunter’s jeans and look up at him. You’ve known Hunter all your life and the guy still surprises you.
“What?”
“As a kid. You know, when you were younger? Physically speaking, you looked kinda fugly.”
“Fugly?”
“Dude, you know what I mean. Way below par.”
You are torn between wanting to continue your quest to blow Hunter before the rest of the Thanksgiving group realize the two of you are huddled in Aunt Debbie’s bathroom, wanting to find out where this is coming from, and wanting to tease him for actually using a golf metaphor.
The guy used to be a hustler. It doesn’t matter that he is only a few years off from welcoming the wondrous thirties. How many ex-hustlers use golf metaphors in everyday conversation? Even though being below par is a good thing for golf. Maybe Hunter is giving you a backwards compliment?
“Huh?”
“Dude, I’m just saying that as far as children go, you ranked pretty low on the attractive scale.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m not saying it is fault. I’m just saying it is a fact. You were never going to win any of those baby photo shoot awards or anything. Not happening.”
“Hunter, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay then.”
You continue unzipping his jeans. You’ve pulled his jeans down and are reaching towards his navy blue boxers when he says, “I’m just saying, as a child you were not attractive.”
You turn away from the boxers to look up at Hunter again. This is getting irritating. Most of the food is already done cooking so you two only have as much time as it takes the green bean casserole and the yams to finish cooking before dinner is ready and your absence could be noticed. And who thought to add yams and marshmallows together and put them in an oven anyway?
“Seriously, man, what are you doing?”
“It is just… I don’t want you to think I was like this creepy dude, checking you out as a child or something. I never noticed you like that when you were younger. And you weren’t even an average good looking kid. You were fugly. I wasn’t a scary pedophile or whatever.”
“I hadn’t thought you were.”
“Oh. Okay. Good. I just wanted you to know that.”
You consider that this may be a good time to get sentimental and profess Deep Emotions you don’t particularly feel or something. Or it could be the time to seem like a slut and kindly inform Hunter that he is not the only one who had sex before he turned sixteen (you are the son of Brian Kinney, after all) and so he shouldn’t worry. Either way, you need to be reassuring and understanding and only maybe hinting that you are horny and that time is of the essence.
Somewhere behind you there is an over timer going off. Yams are done. You can’t have more than ten minutes time before dinner starts.
You yank down his boxers. You’ll just have to make the blowjob extra amazing to communicate all that stuff.
3. Gus/Daphne
You feel stupid arriving in the afternoon. Maybe it is just too many movies, but it feels like you should only come after midnight or something. Avoid the beautiful, sunny days like this and sneak in through a backdoor. Walking up to her front door in the middle of the day and waiting on the porch does not seem to fit the occasion.
Daphne opens the door and she is beautiful, like always.
She smiles at you. This is the suburbs and some kids down the street are laughing. Your hands sweat.
You follow her inside, not stopping until you are both sitting on the bed. Belatedly, you think you probably should have taken off your shoes when you first walked in. This is a nice home. An adult home. With a white carpet. There is nice stuff and you feel dumb still wearing your dirty sneakers in this elegant white bedroom.
“How’s school, Gus?”
There is a giant lump in your throat. It doesn’t matter how many times you come here, you always have the same inherent fears. Even the fact that the small talk is the same doesn’t matter.
“Good. Okay. I miss my family and friends in Canada. But school is good. It is cool to finally be a college student, you know?”
You are an idiot. You are totally an idiot. Why do you have to remind her that she with a stupid freshman student? She went to school forever ago. You don’t bring up an age difference when the woman is seventeen years older!
“I completely understand, Gus.” She is nodding. She is also hiking up her skirt to show off the fact that she has nothing on underneath.
You feel a little better knowing that it doesn’t matter what you say since she isn’t actually listening.
She leans against the bed and plays with her pearl necklace.
“Tell me about your day,” she mummers.
You woke up at noon, got her text, showered, and skipped class to come here. You doubt this will impress her.
“I would rather hear about yours.”
There. That way more suave.
Then you know you are in trouble because she is whispering and you strain closer to hear her.
“My husband is away on business. Again. He won’t be home until tomorrow evening.”
You wish she hadn’t said that. You wish she wouldn’t keep reminding you that she isn’t yours. That really, all you are doing is borrowing something that legally belongs with another. Somewhere out there is Daphne’s husband. A man who, if the pictures hanging on the walls are any indication, could kill you with his hands. And he is probably confident that his wife is spending a quiet day at home.
He is probably a good guy too.
“Would you like to stay here and keep me company while he is gone?”
Not staying sounds like the morally sound plan. It means asserting self control and stopping an affair which is bound to end in disaster. It means refusing to be part of the infidelity any longer.
But here there is Daphne staring at you while her hips sway slightly. Here there is the lovely contrast of dark skin on the cream colored sheets with a thread count as high as the one your father owns.
And just like every time before, you stay.
4. Gus/Ethan
The thing is?
The thing is that you have sort of always been into older guys. Usually way older guys. There is just something undeniably sexy about them. They know what they are doing with all those years of experience. They have their lives established. They have money. And unlike the frat boys your roommate is into, older guys actually have sophistication.
Fucking hell this guy looks sophisticated. And delicious.
The age thing doesn’t really have a chance in competing against sophistication with a side of delicious. After all, the first time you gave a blow job (and, please, let’s not dwell on that awful experience) was to a guy that easily could have been dad’s age. So the fact that the hottie playing the violin is probably Justin’s age isn’t nearly as creepy as it could be.
“Dude, you’re rationalizing. You know why you’re rationalizing? Because you know it is weird.” Matt is wearing his ‘I’m-going-to-graduate-in-a-month-as-a-psych-major-so-you-better-listen-while-my-advice-is-still-free’ look.
“What’s so weird about it? I can’t think of anything more natural than trying to broaden my horizons. Meet new people. People do it all the fucking time and their friends don’t give them shit.”
One woman sitting directly in front of you actually turns around to glare at you. Like apparently cursing is somehow a sin now or something. Like you weren’t whispering already and, honestly, the violin music probably covered most of your voice anyway. It is an intimate concert but it isn’t that intimate. You decide the woman is simply a cunt who just needs to get laid and tells yourself you doesn’t give a shit about her.
You lower your voice anyway.
“He is gay, right? I mean, he’s a fucking violin player. He’s got to be gay. Right?”
“How the fuck would I know? When the hell did I become the expert on violin players?”
“Well, I say he’s gay.”
“Awesome. You say he’s gay. That settles it then.”
“Shut up.”
The woman is definitely glaring again. Frankly, you don’t understand how she could be focusing her attention on you when that guy is on stage. Doesn’t she see the gorgeous guy and the sexy way he is frowning in concentration? The way his fingers alone are working should be enough to demand her attention.
“Whatever, I’m talking to him after the show.”
“Like I give a shit.”
If that isn’t the universe telling you to go for it, you don’t know what is.
You settle back in your chair for the rest of the show. At the very least you can probably get a quick handjob in the men’s room. That could be exciting. Doing something dirty with an established musician in a place so full of itself you get glared at just for having expressive language seems like fun.
As you watch the violin player go, you image relating the story to dad. You can picture his smile already. You smile as Ethan Gold, the violin player you are now certain you’ll have within the hour, picks up the tempo of his song. The music sounds more frantic, less structured. But the music never really interested you anyway. The song will be over soon. Then the concert. And then you’ll have Ethan for yourself.
Dad will be so proud.
5. Gus/Justin
“Brian and I broke up.”
You’ve grown up watching Justin but you’ve never seen him this drunk before. You’ve also never seen him in your apartment before. Considering even your father has never visited you since you started graduate school, you aren’t even sure how he found you.
You have no idea what you are supposed to say. The break-ups between Justin and your father are hardly news; they have been happening since you can remember. You don’t know why Justin has come to you (on a Monday, and you have a 1 o’clock history class tomorrow where you absolutely have to hand in that paper you really should have started earlier) but you can’t turn him away. You just open the door wider and step back.
Justin stumbles into your apartment and promptly bumps into the dresser, knocking over your housemate’s things.
“Sorry,” he mumbles and bends down to help pick things up.
You hide your irritation and just wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. It is just a few things. And Jim’s at his girlfriend’s all weekend, he’ll never even know.”
“Brian and I broke up,” he repeats.
You wait for more.
Eventually, after all Jim’s things are back their proper place and you are just staring at Justin, you give up waiting. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer awkwardly.
“I think it is over for good. For really good this time.”
You don’t tell Justin that you never expected it to last. It seems rude. Even though your entire childhood seems to have been spent hearing stories of how Justin has ‘changed’ your father, you have seen the reality. You live with one set of parents that can manage to do the whole ‘break-up but still love each other, get back together, break-up, reunite’ thing wonderfully. Seeing Justin and your father try it also seemed like a cheap imitation.
But of course, that could just be wishful thinking. It seems way worse to notice the things you do about Justin if he is your maybe sort of step-dad. Imagining him as a permanent boyfriend of your father’s can take the sexy edge off.
“I’m sorry,” you say again.
You are pretty sure it isn’t true but Justin is looking at you like he expects something and it seems like the only appropriate thing to do.
Except that appropriate pretty much stops being an okay word to use when he starts kissing you.
You pull away from Justin fast, stumbling backwards. Of course you bang into the damn dresser again and Jim’s things go flying once more. This time you don’t spare them a glance.
“What was that?”
Smart question, Gus. Except for that you both know what that was. Are you really going to make Justin say it out loud? He’ll probably never speak to you again. Sometimes you wonder how you managed to get into grad school at all.
Justin stares at you with wide, unblinking eyes. “Brian and I. Broke up. For good.” He says it very slowly; like maybe you didn’t understand the first few times.
“Don’t you want to know why we broke up?”
Come to think of it, you sort of do.
“We broke up because I left him. I left him because of you. So it is your fault. So I deserve this.”
You are pretty sure you missing something. Some piece of the puzzle that obviously seems clear to Justin but is making your head hurt trying to figure out the story without it.
“Huh?” You are nothing if not the picture of eloquent speech tonight.
Justin looks annoyed.
“Just get over here and fuck me. I’ll explain in the morning.”
~~~
You hand in the history paper late. That is ten percent of your grade you automatically get docked even before the professor reads it.
You don’t even regret it a little bit.
In honor of britfacexx being one my favorite people in the world, I am posting in our community the Gus fic I wrote her. Darling, thanks again for sticking with me for the fourish years it took me to complete this. You will always be my bLJf! ♥♥♥
Title: Five Sexual Encounters Gus Never Had (but totally would have if Queer as Folk hadn’t been canceled when he was five)
Rated: R (despite the title, there is nothing remotely graphic)
Dedicated: To the lovely Jordan, who put up with the fact that this about FOUR YEARS late. Yeah, really. I love you, Jordan! You deserve so much more than this fic can offer.
Shippers: Gus/JR; Gus/Hunter; Gus/Daphne; Gus/Ethan; Gus/Justin
Note: Sometimes he’s gay, sometimes he’s straight. Sometimes he’s bold, sometimes shy, often confused. There is almost always a huge age difference and one time there is (pseudo?) incest! The different sections do NOT exist in the same universe. They are each their own entity. They are; however, arranged in order of Gus’ age from youngest to oldest. I am not sure why either.
1. Gus/JR
It isn’t like you two are actually related. Not really, anyway.
It doesn’t matter how many times your moms tell you that you are brother and sister; it still doesn’t make it true. You and JR have discussed it countless times. It isn’t just you two justifying things. Honestly. Your birth parents are Lindsay and Brian. JR’s birth parents are Melanie and Michael. There is zero blood relation there.
So really you have no reason to feel guilty about the fact that JR is standing naked in front of you.
The only explanation for your nerves must be that you have never done this before. You may be a few years older than JR (but not, like, sickeningly older in a gross way because there is nothing wrong with what is happening here) but you still never actually had sex before. And so standing in front of a beautiful, naked female body is naturally nerve-wracking.
You start to feel yourself blush when you pull down your boxers and are standing there in just socks. It is the pair JR’s mom got for you last week during some big sale, and it is so much easier to think “JR’s mom” rather than “mom”, or to remember a family dinner where your parents when cooking and kissing in the kitchen and you and JR were stealing kisses of your own in the living room.
Everyone says that you can choose who is included in your family. In college your dad chose your mom, and later your mom chose to be with JR’s mom. Uncle Michael chose Uncle Ben and Uncle Ted has Uncle Emmett. So can’t you choose who isn’t part of your family? Can’t you decide not to accept JR as your sister? Can’t you decide exactly what JR should be to you?
Because you would really rather think of JR as this beautiful girl you sort of couldn’t help falling for. Not the little sister you used to help keep occupied during holidays when the adults didn’t want to deal with the children. JR, with her beautiful skin and open eyes, has never judged you.
You can kiss her on lips that have never said a cruel word to you because you aren’t related.
You do kiss her on each breast because you aren’t related.
You tell yourself you kiss her because you can. Because you aren’t related. Not even a little bit.
By the time you kiss either thigh, you almost even believe it.
2. Gus/Hunter
“You know, you used to be kind of a fugly looking kid.”
You stop unzipping Hunter’s jeans and look up at him. You’ve known Hunter all your life and the guy still surprises you.
“What?”
“As a kid. You know, when you were younger? Physically speaking, you looked kinda fugly.”
“Fugly?”
“Dude, you know what I mean. Way below par.”
You are torn between wanting to continue your quest to blow Hunter before the rest of the Thanksgiving group realize the two of you are huddled in Aunt Debbie’s bathroom, wanting to find out where this is coming from, and wanting to tease him for actually using a golf metaphor.
The guy used to be a hustler. It doesn’t matter that he is only a few years off from welcoming the wondrous thirties. How many ex-hustlers use golf metaphors in everyday conversation? Even though being below par is a good thing for golf. Maybe Hunter is giving you a backwards compliment?
“Huh?”
“Dude, I’m just saying that as far as children go, you ranked pretty low on the attractive scale.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m not saying it is fault. I’m just saying it is a fact. You were never going to win any of those baby photo shoot awards or anything. Not happening.”
“Hunter, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay then.”
You continue unzipping his jeans. You’ve pulled his jeans down and are reaching towards his navy blue boxers when he says, “I’m just saying, as a child you were not attractive.”
You turn away from the boxers to look up at Hunter again. This is getting irritating. Most of the food is already done cooking so you two only have as much time as it takes the green bean casserole and the yams to finish cooking before dinner is ready and your absence could be noticed. And who thought to add yams and marshmallows together and put them in an oven anyway?
“Seriously, man, what are you doing?”
“It is just… I don’t want you to think I was like this creepy dude, checking you out as a child or something. I never noticed you like that when you were younger. And you weren’t even an average good looking kid. You were fugly. I wasn’t a scary pedophile or whatever.”
“I hadn’t thought you were.”
“Oh. Okay. Good. I just wanted you to know that.”
You consider that this may be a good time to get sentimental and profess Deep Emotions you don’t particularly feel or something. Or it could be the time to seem like a slut and kindly inform Hunter that he is not the only one who had sex before he turned sixteen (you are the son of Brian Kinney, after all) and so he shouldn’t worry. Either way, you need to be reassuring and understanding and only maybe hinting that you are horny and that time is of the essence.
Somewhere behind you there is an over timer going off. Yams are done. You can’t have more than ten minutes time before dinner starts.
You yank down his boxers. You’ll just have to make the blowjob extra amazing to communicate all that stuff.
3. Gus/Daphne
You feel stupid arriving in the afternoon. Maybe it is just too many movies, but it feels like you should only come after midnight or something. Avoid the beautiful, sunny days like this and sneak in through a backdoor. Walking up to her front door in the middle of the day and waiting on the porch does not seem to fit the occasion.
Daphne opens the door and she is beautiful, like always.
She smiles at you. This is the suburbs and some kids down the street are laughing. Your hands sweat.
You follow her inside, not stopping until you are both sitting on the bed. Belatedly, you think you probably should have taken off your shoes when you first walked in. This is a nice home. An adult home. With a white carpet. There is nice stuff and you feel dumb still wearing your dirty sneakers in this elegant white bedroom.
“How’s school, Gus?”
There is a giant lump in your throat. It doesn’t matter how many times you come here, you always have the same inherent fears. Even the fact that the small talk is the same doesn’t matter.
“Good. Okay. I miss my family and friends in Canada. But school is good. It is cool to finally be a college student, you know?”
You are an idiot. You are totally an idiot. Why do you have to remind her that she with a stupid freshman student? She went to school forever ago. You don’t bring up an age difference when the woman is seventeen years older!
“I completely understand, Gus.” She is nodding. She is also hiking up her skirt to show off the fact that she has nothing on underneath.
You feel a little better knowing that it doesn’t matter what you say since she isn’t actually listening.
She leans against the bed and plays with her pearl necklace.
“Tell me about your day,” she mummers.
You woke up at noon, got her text, showered, and skipped class to come here. You doubt this will impress her.
“I would rather hear about yours.”
There. That way more suave.
Then you know you are in trouble because she is whispering and you strain closer to hear her.
“My husband is away on business. Again. He won’t be home until tomorrow evening.”
You wish she hadn’t said that. You wish she wouldn’t keep reminding you that she isn’t yours. That really, all you are doing is borrowing something that legally belongs with another. Somewhere out there is Daphne’s husband. A man who, if the pictures hanging on the walls are any indication, could kill you with his hands. And he is probably confident that his wife is spending a quiet day at home.
He is probably a good guy too.
“Would you like to stay here and keep me company while he is gone?”
Not staying sounds like the morally sound plan. It means asserting self control and stopping an affair which is bound to end in disaster. It means refusing to be part of the infidelity any longer.
But here there is Daphne staring at you while her hips sway slightly. Here there is the lovely contrast of dark skin on the cream colored sheets with a thread count as high as the one your father owns.
And just like every time before, you stay.
4. Gus/Ethan
The thing is?
The thing is that you have sort of always been into older guys. Usually way older guys. There is just something undeniably sexy about them. They know what they are doing with all those years of experience. They have their lives established. They have money. And unlike the frat boys your roommate is into, older guys actually have sophistication.
Fucking hell this guy looks sophisticated. And delicious.
The age thing doesn’t really have a chance in competing against sophistication with a side of delicious. After all, the first time you gave a blow job (and, please, let’s not dwell on that awful experience) was to a guy that easily could have been dad’s age. So the fact that the hottie playing the violin is probably Justin’s age isn’t nearly as creepy as it could be.
“Dude, you’re rationalizing. You know why you’re rationalizing? Because you know it is weird.” Matt is wearing his ‘I’m-going-to-graduate-in-a-month-as-a-psych-major-so-you-better-listen-while-my-advice-is-still-free’ look.
“What’s so weird about it? I can’t think of anything more natural than trying to broaden my horizons. Meet new people. People do it all the fucking time and their friends don’t give them shit.”
One woman sitting directly in front of you actually turns around to glare at you. Like apparently cursing is somehow a sin now or something. Like you weren’t whispering already and, honestly, the violin music probably covered most of your voice anyway. It is an intimate concert but it isn’t that intimate. You decide the woman is simply a cunt who just needs to get laid and tells yourself you doesn’t give a shit about her.
You lower your voice anyway.
“He is gay, right? I mean, he’s a fucking violin player. He’s got to be gay. Right?”
“How the fuck would I know? When the hell did I become the expert on violin players?”
“Well, I say he’s gay.”
“Awesome. You say he’s gay. That settles it then.”
“Shut up.”
The woman is definitely glaring again. Frankly, you don’t understand how she could be focusing her attention on you when that guy is on stage. Doesn’t she see the gorgeous guy and the sexy way he is frowning in concentration? The way his fingers alone are working should be enough to demand her attention.
“Whatever, I’m talking to him after the show.”
“Like I give a shit.”
If that isn’t the universe telling you to go for it, you don’t know what is.
You settle back in your chair for the rest of the show. At the very least you can probably get a quick handjob in the men’s room. That could be exciting. Doing something dirty with an established musician in a place so full of itself you get glared at just for having expressive language seems like fun.
As you watch the violin player go, you image relating the story to dad. You can picture his smile already. You smile as Ethan Gold, the violin player you are now certain you’ll have within the hour, picks up the tempo of his song. The music sounds more frantic, less structured. But the music never really interested you anyway. The song will be over soon. Then the concert. And then you’ll have Ethan for yourself.
Dad will be so proud.
5. Gus/Justin
“Brian and I broke up.”
You’ve grown up watching Justin but you’ve never seen him this drunk before. You’ve also never seen him in your apartment before. Considering even your father has never visited you since you started graduate school, you aren’t even sure how he found you.
You have no idea what you are supposed to say. The break-ups between Justin and your father are hardly news; they have been happening since you can remember. You don’t know why Justin has come to you (on a Monday, and you have a 1 o’clock history class tomorrow where you absolutely have to hand in that paper you really should have started earlier) but you can’t turn him away. You just open the door wider and step back.
Justin stumbles into your apartment and promptly bumps into the dresser, knocking over your housemate’s things.
“Sorry,” he mumbles and bends down to help pick things up.
You hide your irritation and just wave him off. “Don’t worry about it. It is just a few things. And Jim’s at his girlfriend’s all weekend, he’ll never even know.”
“Brian and I broke up,” he repeats.
You wait for more.
Eventually, after all Jim’s things are back their proper place and you are just staring at Justin, you give up waiting. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you offer awkwardly.
“I think it is over for good. For really good this time.”
You don’t tell Justin that you never expected it to last. It seems rude. Even though your entire childhood seems to have been spent hearing stories of how Justin has ‘changed’ your father, you have seen the reality. You live with one set of parents that can manage to do the whole ‘break-up but still love each other, get back together, break-up, reunite’ thing wonderfully. Seeing Justin and your father try it also seemed like a cheap imitation.
But of course, that could just be wishful thinking. It seems way worse to notice the things you do about Justin if he is your maybe sort of step-dad. Imagining him as a permanent boyfriend of your father’s can take the sexy edge off.
“I’m sorry,” you say again.
You are pretty sure it isn’t true but Justin is looking at you like he expects something and it seems like the only appropriate thing to do.
Except that appropriate pretty much stops being an okay word to use when he starts kissing you.
You pull away from Justin fast, stumbling backwards. Of course you bang into the damn dresser again and Jim’s things go flying once more. This time you don’t spare them a glance.
“What was that?”
Smart question, Gus. Except for that you both know what that was. Are you really going to make Justin say it out loud? He’ll probably never speak to you again. Sometimes you wonder how you managed to get into grad school at all.
Justin stares at you with wide, unblinking eyes. “Brian and I. Broke up. For good.” He says it very slowly; like maybe you didn’t understand the first few times.
“Don’t you want to know why we broke up?”
Come to think of it, you sort of do.
“We broke up because I left him. I left him because of you. So it is your fault. So I deserve this.”
You are pretty sure you missing something. Some piece of the puzzle that obviously seems clear to Justin but is making your head hurt trying to figure out the story without it.
“Huh?” You are nothing if not the picture of eloquent speech tonight.
Justin looks annoyed.
“Just get over here and fuck me. I’ll explain in the morning.”
~~~
You hand in the history paper late. That is ten percent of your grade you automatically get docked even before the professor reads it.
You don’t even regret it a little bit.