Ch. 3
(This is when it starts getting good...)
I'm not that happy with some of the dialogue, and it's not as long as I'd like, so I may post a revised version at some point. But for now,
An hour passed. Each flicker of the fire seemed to be mocking him. He stared at it with great intensity, as if by doing so John would suddenly materialize and be crouching beside it again as if nothing had happened. The way he had looked then, building the fire so carefully, refused to be dislodged from Flans's mind. It occurred to him that perhaps John wasn't waiting in their cabin at all, perhaps he'd called a taxi and left forever, and that image of him was the last he would ever have, and his battle against the tears was finally lost.
The scurrying of raccoons and other cruel nocturnal woodland creatures had made him turn excitedly only to be disappointed so many times that when the door finally opened he didn't even notice it at first. In fact, it wasn't until the soft "hi" that he was aware that what he'd been hoping for had finally occurred.
He refused to let himself become hopeful. "Probably just wants to discuss the technical details of legally dissolving the band," he mentally insisted.
John spoke slowly. "It's getting late."
"You clearly didn't want me to be in the same room with you, John." The tone of his voice clearly conveyed the fact that he'd spent all the ensuing time dwelling on this. "How was I supposed to just go back to our room and go to bed after you ran off like that?" He'd managed to stop crying, but remembering exactly what John's reaction had been made his voice quiver with a renewed threat.
"I'm sorry."
"Oh. You're sorry. That makes everything ok." Now that he was finally back, Flans realized he wanted John to leave again. Having him so close after he'd so obviously rejected him was just making everything more painful.
"Look, you have to admit that was kind of a startling confession you made there. What was I supposed to do?"
Flans paused, considering this. Even after spending all this time thinking about it, he still wasn't sure of the answer.
John, seemingly oblivious to his thoughtfulness, continued. "I mean, first of all, I'd always had the rather distinct impression that you were straight, and I've been reasonably sure that I am, too."
Flans searched his mind desperately for a way to explain to him that in all other matters he was, but that this transcended all of that. But before he had a chance, John spoke again.
"But...I decided not to worry about that. So once I got past the confusion and the shock, there was nothing left to justify behaving the way I did. So I really am sorry."
Flans waited long enough to make sure he was finally done. "So that's all you came back for, to apologize?" He couldn't decide if this was horrible or wonderful. He was deeply relieved that John didn't hate him, but crushed that non-hatred was apparently the best he'd be able to get.
John took a deep breath. "Well, there is one other thing." He was almost whispering now. With a tremendous amount of care, he sat beside Flans on the couch. Their legs just barely made contact with each other and despite his current mental state Flans couldn't help being excited by this.
John took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how to say this, John. But...listen...we..." He fell silent, but then, ever so slowly, crept his hand into Flans's lap.
Flans sucked in his breath sharply. Then, ever so gently, he placed his hand on top of John's. He couldn't help noticing how warm it felt despite the fact that he had just come in from outside.
John tried again. "What I mean is...y'know..." Finally he gave up, sighed, and rested his head on Flans's shoulder.
Flans felt as if his brain was melting, reforming, and then melting again. Here it was, the moment he'd be longing for, and he had no idea how to respond. His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain John must hear it, and his hands had suddenly turned clammy.
Hesitatingly, Flans lifted his arms and encircled them around John's angular shoulders. John responded by snuggling even closer to him. Flans's heart was a timpani in his ears now. He marveled at how fragile John felt in his arms, all bones, as easily broken as a porcelain doll.
"John..." he murmured.
"Yeh?" His voice sounded far away.
"I love you," he said simply.
John smiled. "I love you too, Flansy. Thanks for helping me realize it."
Flans gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze.
John could scarcely believe how good it felt being held by another man. He recalled what he had told him earlier, about trying new things, and was so happy that this was what he had meant. It was still confusing and a little scary, but he didn't want to think about that now. He just wanted to think about the warmth of the fire and of Flans's body.
As good as it felt cuddling, Flans soon became eager for more. Now that everything was in the open and John's glorious body was actually there for the taking, he realized he was ravenous for it. With a movement that was surprisingly rough, he pushed John backwards until he was lying down on the couch. He held him down by his shoulders.
"God...I want you so fucking much..." he said, his voice low, before diving into him. He kissed him urgently, digging his fingers into his shoulders. John felt as if he was melting beneath him. He surrendered himself to Flans completely, wrapping his legs around him, welcoming his hot, deep kisses.
Flans moved from John's mouth to his neck. "God...John..." John whispered, clutching the back of his head as he flicked his tongue around his collarbone. "This is...this feels so good! You're making me feel so good!" He had to say it aloud in order to really make it believable to himself. Here he was, making out with his best friend, and it was making him feel better than any woman ever had. A lot better.
Flans rose for a minute and began to unbutton John's light denim work-shirt. John was struck by a sudden feeling of panic. He had always been very insecure about revealing any of his body, refusing even to wear shorts at outdoor shows, and he definitely wasn't ready to do so yet. He sat up and pulled his shirt tightly around his chest.
Flans's face fell. "What's wrong?"
"Not now," John said gently. "Please don't be upset. I really am enjoying this. I'm just...not ready."
Flans kissed him again, softly this time, cupping his chin in his hand. "It's ok...um...dear. We'll have plenty of time..." He wrapped his arms around John again, and nuzzled his face against his neck. After a moment, he pulled back and buttoned his shirt back up for him.
"Thank you," John said. "I'm sorry. You don't think I'm stupid or something, do you?"
Flans laughed. "Of course not! I just think--I just know--you're shy. It's, y'know, kind of cute."
John's face brightened. "Really?"
"Yeh. I've always thought so. And I never think you're stupid. I promise," he assured him.
John leaned against Flans again. "I'm really sleepy," he announced.
"Aww. Let's go to bed, then."
"Hang on, we have to put the fire out."
Flans rolled his eyes. "We don't have to."
"Yes we do! You've already almost set one place on fire, I'm not going to let you do it again."
After this was taken care of, they headed back to their cabin. At the time, John had thought Flans's request that they share one was strange, and had only agreed to it because it would be cheaper that way. Now, he was grateful for it. He wanted to spend the night in Flans's arms.
I'm not that happy with some of the dialogue, and it's not as long as I'd like, so I may post a revised version at some point. But for now,
An hour passed. Each flicker of the fire seemed to be mocking him. He stared at it with great intensity, as if by doing so John would suddenly materialize and be crouching beside it again as if nothing had happened. The way he had looked then, building the fire so carefully, refused to be dislodged from Flans's mind. It occurred to him that perhaps John wasn't waiting in their cabin at all, perhaps he'd called a taxi and left forever, and that image of him was the last he would ever have, and his battle against the tears was finally lost.
The scurrying of raccoons and other cruel nocturnal woodland creatures had made him turn excitedly only to be disappointed so many times that when the door finally opened he didn't even notice it at first. In fact, it wasn't until the soft "hi" that he was aware that what he'd been hoping for had finally occurred.
He refused to let himself become hopeful. "Probably just wants to discuss the technical details of legally dissolving the band," he mentally insisted.
John spoke slowly. "It's getting late."
"You clearly didn't want me to be in the same room with you, John." The tone of his voice clearly conveyed the fact that he'd spent all the ensuing time dwelling on this. "How was I supposed to just go back to our room and go to bed after you ran off like that?" He'd managed to stop crying, but remembering exactly what John's reaction had been made his voice quiver with a renewed threat.
"I'm sorry."
"Oh. You're sorry. That makes everything ok." Now that he was finally back, Flans realized he wanted John to leave again. Having him so close after he'd so obviously rejected him was just making everything more painful.
"Look, you have to admit that was kind of a startling confession you made there. What was I supposed to do?"
Flans paused, considering this. Even after spending all this time thinking about it, he still wasn't sure of the answer.
John, seemingly oblivious to his thoughtfulness, continued. "I mean, first of all, I'd always had the rather distinct impression that you were straight, and I've been reasonably sure that I am, too."
Flans searched his mind desperately for a way to explain to him that in all other matters he was, but that this transcended all of that. But before he had a chance, John spoke again.
"But...I decided not to worry about that. So once I got past the confusion and the shock, there was nothing left to justify behaving the way I did. So I really am sorry."
Flans waited long enough to make sure he was finally done. "So that's all you came back for, to apologize?" He couldn't decide if this was horrible or wonderful. He was deeply relieved that John didn't hate him, but crushed that non-hatred was apparently the best he'd be able to get.
John took a deep breath. "Well, there is one other thing." He was almost whispering now. With a tremendous amount of care, he sat beside Flans on the couch. Their legs just barely made contact with each other and despite his current mental state Flans couldn't help being excited by this.
John took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how to say this, John. But...listen...we..." He fell silent, but then, ever so slowly, crept his hand into Flans's lap.
Flans sucked in his breath sharply. Then, ever so gently, he placed his hand on top of John's. He couldn't help noticing how warm it felt despite the fact that he had just come in from outside.
John tried again. "What I mean is...y'know..." Finally he gave up, sighed, and rested his head on Flans's shoulder.
Flans felt as if his brain was melting, reforming, and then melting again. Here it was, the moment he'd be longing for, and he had no idea how to respond. His heart was pounding so loudly he was certain John must hear it, and his hands had suddenly turned clammy.
Hesitatingly, Flans lifted his arms and encircled them around John's angular shoulders. John responded by snuggling even closer to him. Flans's heart was a timpani in his ears now. He marveled at how fragile John felt in his arms, all bones, as easily broken as a porcelain doll.
"John..." he murmured.
"Yeh?" His voice sounded far away.
"I love you," he said simply.
John smiled. "I love you too, Flansy. Thanks for helping me realize it."
Flans gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze.
John could scarcely believe how good it felt being held by another man. He recalled what he had told him earlier, about trying new things, and was so happy that this was what he had meant. It was still confusing and a little scary, but he didn't want to think about that now. He just wanted to think about the warmth of the fire and of Flans's body.
As good as it felt cuddling, Flans soon became eager for more. Now that everything was in the open and John's glorious body was actually there for the taking, he realized he was ravenous for it. With a movement that was surprisingly rough, he pushed John backwards until he was lying down on the couch. He held him down by his shoulders.
"God...I want you so fucking much..." he said, his voice low, before diving into him. He kissed him urgently, digging his fingers into his shoulders. John felt as if he was melting beneath him. He surrendered himself to Flans completely, wrapping his legs around him, welcoming his hot, deep kisses.
Flans moved from John's mouth to his neck. "God...John..." John whispered, clutching the back of his head as he flicked his tongue around his collarbone. "This is...this feels so good! You're making me feel so good!" He had to say it aloud in order to really make it believable to himself. Here he was, making out with his best friend, and it was making him feel better than any woman ever had. A lot better.
Flans rose for a minute and began to unbutton John's light denim work-shirt. John was struck by a sudden feeling of panic. He had always been very insecure about revealing any of his body, refusing even to wear shorts at outdoor shows, and he definitely wasn't ready to do so yet. He sat up and pulled his shirt tightly around his chest.
Flans's face fell. "What's wrong?"
"Not now," John said gently. "Please don't be upset. I really am enjoying this. I'm just...not ready."
Flans kissed him again, softly this time, cupping his chin in his hand. "It's ok...um...dear. We'll have plenty of time..." He wrapped his arms around John again, and nuzzled his face against his neck. After a moment, he pulled back and buttoned his shirt back up for him.
"Thank you," John said. "I'm sorry. You don't think I'm stupid or something, do you?"
Flans laughed. "Of course not! I just think--I just know--you're shy. It's, y'know, kind of cute."
John's face brightened. "Really?"
"Yeh. I've always thought so. And I never think you're stupid. I promise," he assured him.
John leaned against Flans again. "I'm really sleepy," he announced.
"Aww. Let's go to bed, then."
"Hang on, we have to put the fire out."
Flans rolled his eyes. "We don't have to."
"Yes we do! You've already almost set one place on fire, I'm not going to let you do it again."
After this was taken care of, they headed back to their cabin. At the time, John had thought Flans's request that they share one was strange, and had only agreed to it because it would be cheaper that way. Now, he was grateful for it. He wanted to spend the night in Flans's arms.