Chapter Thirty Five Walking Contradiction

I was fucked. In so many ways. I had lost my virginity – to everything, in under a month. A month. Fuck, that was such a short period of time. I felt like I had rushed through it, skipping over too many things too fast and then leaving it all behind for nothing. I felt like I had betrayed Gerard and Jasmine at the same time, making both of their sexual acts and relationships null and void, because they happened during the same time period. I couldn’t sort them out inside my head. All of me knew that Gerard was the most important thing at this point in my life, but there was that small part, the voice hiding in the back of my mind that told me that Jasmine was just as good. I tried to write it off, saying that it was only because I had experienced her last, and she was still fresh in my mind. I tried to contribute it to the fact that our sex was a lot easier, pain-wise and getting it started, than Gerard’s and mine ever was, and probably ever would be. I knew Gerard meant more to me, I really, really did. But I couldn’t shake Jasmine. I just couldn’t.

And I hate myself for even considering feeling that way.

Most of all in this, I felt like I had betrayed myself, or at least degraded the person I was. I took how special each of those events in virginity were for granted. I had gotten all of them over within a time span of a month, and with two different people at the same time. I felt dirty, disgusting, and like a slut. I couldn’t keep my legs shut, my dick in line, or my mouth closed. I knew I wasn’t a slut; that there had been good mental reasoning, as well as physical, behind those acts, but like I couldn’t push Jasmine out of my psyche, I couldn’t push that harsh label off of myself, either. Though it felt like I had merely cast those special events off to the side like they were nothing, I knew I hadn’t. Just because I had sex with two people the past month when I had never gotten any action of any kind in my whole seventeen years of existence didn’t mean that they weren’t special people. I had never met anyone like either of them before. Though both titles of virgin were gone as quick as I could say yes to both of them, they were still important. They still meant absolutely everything to me.

It was clearly obvious why Gerard meant everything to me. We were doomed from the start; he was so much older than myself, and a man. I had never fallen for a guy before, and yet, he managed to capture my attention. As we progressed, it became so much more than that, or even a sexual urge. Gerard had not wanted us to be something sexual, something more than just an artist and a student, from the beginning. Though he felt as many, probably more, of the feelings I dealt with, he didn’t want to act on them. He wanted to teach me things. He wanted to teach me how to paint, to keep me in his apartment for company. If I had never exposed myself to him that one day when I had taken my shirt off, spilling the truth from my mouth, then I may have still been in his apartment, pining away after the aging and old fag artist that I would never and could never be with. If I had not taken that first risk, I would have never had what I had at that time in my life, including Jasmine. He was teaching me so much more now that we were in a relationship. He knew that this was doomed, fucked up, and would never last forever no matter how long we kept it a secret. He wanted me to be prepared for when it did end, and that made my heart ache and my stomach sink anytime I thought about it. I would be leaving him; I had no time or date or appointment, but it was going to happen. While we were still here, still together and everything else, though, he was going to teach me all he knew. Maybe it was that impending feeling of doom that led me to do what I had done, or felt the need to do it.

Jasmine wasn’t just a random fuck, no matter how much it appeared that way. She meant so much more than that. She understood me when my friends merely cast me aside as Frank the Ass-Fucker. Even if I had confessed that that was all I was, I knew she would have heard me out. She listened to me ramble on about art, doves, and some man named Gerard. She listened and she meant something. She taught me what it was like to be a kid again, without going back to my horrid youth. Even though I was gay, she had still somehow managed to take my virginity from me, without me saying a word for her to stop. I didn’t want it to stop, even when I felt guilty for doing it, again and again that night, I still didn’t want it to stop. I wasn’t sure if it was because it felt so good that I kept going, or because I really liked her. I didn’t want it to be the second option of the two. She was fucking awesome, but I didn’t want it to be as much as Gerard. Nothing was ever as much as Gerard. He was everything, and I was everything to him. We declared it on our first night together. Jasmine and I hadn’t declared a thing, only that we could trust each other and try to emulate Gerard and Vivian. What were Gerard and Vivian to each other?

Just friends – so that was what I was determined on Jasmine and I staying. I didn’t just want to forget about her after the cottage; that would make her be just a random fuck. I was going to hold onto her, because she was someone I needed to keep at my side, especially when Gerard and I did end.

The next morning, Jasmine was smiling and happy, glancing up at me from the pillow and blanket we had both been sharing. I had barely slept that night, the thoughts running around inside my head, waking me up every hour so I realized where I was. There was no mistaking, or feeling lost in my surroundings as I had so many times before when I woke up in a foreign place. Each time as I opened my eyes, I knew I was in the cabin. I knew I was with Jasmine, and I knew what I had done. Most of all, I knew I couldn’t take it back.

I wasn’t entirely sure if I would if I were given the option.

I felt restless when we were both awake, while she was a shining image of what a person should be like in the morning. I could feel the emotions deep inside of me each and every time I saw her smile – the one that gave everything away. The way she said good morning and hugged me so gratefully made me want to scream, cry, and hug her back just as tight all at the same time. Instead, I had to settle for what little food I had consumed that day, coming back up to me at the side of the house. I felt like my stomach was twisting and turning into knots, trying to leap out of my mouth, or strangle my heart. I wanted the infernal organ to stop beating almost, if it meant that I wouldn’t be so fucking torn. I didn’t want to feel the way I felt for Jasmine, especially since I knew there was someone waiting for me as soon as I got home.

I wondered how Gerard would take all of this, and if I was ever going to tell him. I wanted to keep it a secret, I knew I had to keep it a secret, but I had too many I already needed to keep. I also recalled that day with Vivian and the pancake batter. She had known about Gerard and I because she had to. There was no such thing as a secret. Someone was always going to let it slip. And I knew that if I went to see Gerard, I’d confess every last detail. I didn’t want to keep anything from him, but the fear of not knowing how he would react kept me far, far away from him. Even as we drove back to the city and I dreaded the next morning after the fateful event, I still kept my distance from the artist. We had returned in the afternoon, right around dinner time.

Jasmine had asked if I wanted to go to her place, but I declined. My parents hadn’t seen me for days, and though I had managed to find a phone to call them on, I knew they would be mad. My mother was getting weaker and weaker around my dad regarding my disappearances, and I didn’t want to take any chances. Jasmine had looked a little disappointed when I said no, and insisted we exchange numbers instead. She never said a word about dating or a relationship from the sex we had shared, but I knew in the back of her mind she was thinking it. I could recognize those eyes she gave me; those were the exact ones I had given Gerard the first morning after. And my heart fucking ached just thinking about it. I didn’t want Jasmine. I couldn’t want Jasmine. I wanted Gerard and only Gerard.

Even after I took her number and tore it to shreds inside my room, even after my mother and father weren’t mad at me for my disappearances, even after I was free to do anything I wanted – I still locked myself in my room. I didn’t want to go anywhere, not to Jasmine or Gerard’s. I wanted to sit in my room, not eat the food that was given to me (because I would only throw it up anyway), and not play my guitar. I had brought the instrument home on the weekend, only temporarily, to further extend the plan Gerard and I had cooked up about starting a band.

Some band, I thought bitterly. The guitar was now stuffed back in the closet, the memories it brought back so fucking bittersweet and ironic that I couldn’t take it. I didn’t care if the guitar got sick again, its shiny surface quickly fading into blandness as the cancer of misuse took over. I was slowly rotting inside, so the instrument could do the very same thing.

I couldn’t play guitar with the images of Gerard in my head. I didn’t care if my fingers forgot the key formations, the notes, and the chords. I wanted to forget it. I wasn’t supposed to play guitar, anyway. I wasn’t supposed to paint, either. Vivian had told me that; maybe I wasn’t even supposed to be with Gerard.

The thought and consideration passed through my head so quickly, so fleetingly, and yet it struck me so hard, I didn’t know if I could get up from my bed. I needed Gerard. I couldn’t just give him up, even if he wasn’t my passion and we weren’t meant to be together forever. I did wonder, though, if he needed me back just as much. He always said he did, but I never believed him. He was so headstrong and confident. I was this weak little teenager coming to him for advice that I could never use properly, and problems that were too insignificant for the lessons he taught. He was teaching me, giving me everything I had ever wanted. I was doing nothing for him. Despite the fact that he had told me in the park that night that watching me soar was enough for him, it didn’t seem that way. It didn’t seem that watching me fly away from him was going to cut it. Especially since I had already fucked it up so much.

Weren’t relationships supposed to be equal? If he gave me something, wasn’t I supposed to give him back just as much? I was trying to, I was trying so hard, but I could never compare; never measure up.

Sexually, things were equal – and that was one of the reasons I found myself liking the whole aspect to homosexual relationships. Though it seemed weird inside my head, when I broke down the principles of things, it made so much sense. There were no gender roles, and no one could be put in the authoritative position all the time. You could switch it up with gay sex, something that Gerard and I did a lot of. With Jasmine, she always had to be on the receiving end, and I always had to be on the giving end. I didn’t like that. Our relationship wasn’t intense or long enough to have power struggles yet, but I had a feeling that if we ever had the chance of lasting as long as Gerard and I, the whole equality thing would tear us apart.

Maybe I was just looking for excuses to make sure things wouldn’t work between she and I, or maybe I was actually thinking logically for once. I didn’t know. There was just something about straight sex that bugged me.

Both Gerard and I were male; we had dicks and asses and we knew what the other person liked. He knew that I liked it when he did that swirling tongue motion on the head of my cock, because he liked the same thing done to him. I knew he liked it when I ran my fingers through his hair and flicked my teeth over his nipples, because I liked the same thing done to me. It was a reciprocal based relationship; we knew what the other liked, and we also knew what hurt the other person. Anal sex could hurt – a lot, especially if you didn’t have a caring partner. The fact that Gerard had the same parts as me, and was capable of feeling the same pain, made him not want to inflict that on me. In turn, I didn’t feel bad or dirty when he fucked me, becoming shamed that I had to be the one to take it. I could turn around and do the same thing too. We both knew that the action hurt, it was hard, and messy, but we understood that.

When I had fucked Jasmine, it had only hurt her (if there had been any pain at all – I couldn’t tell, and there was another aspect in us not being equal). There was also no way she could have done the exact same actions I had done to her to me. She couldn’t fuck me; she could only get fucked. I had gotten used to the equality of Gerard and I, and this didn’t feel right. It had felt good, the things she did to me, but I felt strange; incomplete almost that I couldn’t return the favor. When Gerard and I gave each other blowjobs, it never felt dirty or wrong. We both had cocks, and though we were going lower to reach them, we never felt like we were going lower figuratively and degrading each other in our minds. We were just making the other person feel good. But when Jasmine had tried to do the same, offering since I was apparently being so good to her, I had declined. It didn’t feel right, having her head in between my legs. It felt like I would have been demoralizing her, even though she had offered. I didn’t want to make her do anything she didn’t want to do, but even when she did, it didn’t feel right.

Sex with Jasmine had been so different from sex with Gerard. Not only were they different parts and different motions, but the feelings around it all. When Jasmine and I had had sex, we just did it. It was nice and special in as much that I liked her and she liked me back, we respected each other and didn’t just plow into the other person, but it felt so… average. Maybe it was because I had thought about it too much by this point, but it wasn’t exciting anymore. So many people had sex like we had done, so it didn’t feel that special anymore. We were just fucking; you had to fuck if you were straight in order to reproduce. Our hormones drove us that way. It was essential. With Gerard, however, nothing was essential. In fact, things were forbidden. Gerard and I were not supposed to like each other as much as we did. We were never supposed to have sex. Perhaps that was the reason that when we did do it, it seemed to be ten times as special as anything I had ever experienced.

When Gerard touched me that first night, I had felt alive. I felt like I existed for once in my life. He was making sure I was okay, he was tender, kind, and caring. He was going to make sure I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. I had wanted everything that night, and we had taken everything. There was no turning back for us then, and every single time we had sex afterwards, I felt like we were still taking that everything. The way Gerard touched me; I felt like I was special. We had to make every single moment with each other amazing, because it could be taken away. Our relationship should have never happened, but did anyway, so there were really no standards to compare to. Anything past the point of no return was amazing, fantastic, and something we should have never been doing. Even when I was in pain around him, like that first night or other times when he went in too far from a new position, I still felt okay. We were in pain then, yeah, but it only made everything more real. People needed pain in their lives. It made you realize that you were still there, and still human. But hopefully, it was not enough to stop. Thus far, it had never been enough to stop. I didn’t want to stop with Gerard.

I just hadn’t anticipated something else coming along that didn’t hurt as much, but still felt good.

Fucking Jasmine had not hurt at all. Even when I was the one fucking Gerard it sometimes hurt, mostly because of the position we were in or the emotional factor that I could be causing pain to him. But with Jasmine, it felt like things had gone off relatively smooth. The more I thought about it that night in bed, staring at my ceiling, the more I realized that for the physical sensation of things, I actually preferred having sex with Jasmine. It was so much easier. I stuck it in her, went in and out a few times, and then I was good. Her body was so much softer, more elegant, and easier to grip and move in and out of. Her body was a work of art like Gerard had said, her breasts and curves still flashing before my mind constantly that night, so much so that I found my hand wandering around underneath the covers.

I finished too soon, the memory still fresh in my mind and fueling me forward. When I began to notice the wetness from my act all over my hand, I had flipped out more, getting even angrier. That had been the first time in ages that I had gotten off to anyone else other than Gerard. Even when I didn’t have Gerard with me in bed, I often pictured him, even before our relationship had started. I had tried to deny it when it happened then, but I knew it did. Gerard had always been the person that had turned me on.

Why the fuck was Jasmine filtering through my thoughts?

It was her body and the sensations I had felt when I fucked her that I called upon as I clutched myself, while when I had gotten off to Gerard, it had been something completely separate from his body. It was the idea of him – how he carried himself, talked, and touched me. The idea of him as a whole entity enticing me and how wrong that was, and the idea of us together. When that idea became a reality, and we were together, I recalled the memories from our time fucking, how his hand felt around me, and the way he cared for me every time. With one single week away from him, all of the images were suddenly harder to draw from and replaced with Jasmine. She had been the one to send me over the edge when I had been able to have a choice, and I felt the rage within me rise.

Our bodies had fit together perfectly and so easily, but fuck, Gerard and I fit together, too. We fit together better, almost. We had to work at it; that made us appreciate it more. We had to use fingers, lube, and hours of patience before we fit together, but God, when we did, we did. We were one person, one whole solid person, and we weren’t going to detach, even after the act was over, because it had taken so long to get that way. We fucked because we wanted to, but we stayed inside each other because we needed to. We were whole then; better people. Or at least I knew I was. It was sort of hard for me to think of Gerard as being anything better than he already was.

The things you had to work for – like us - were always ten times better than those that happen. Jasmine happened. She was there, she was a woman, it was accepted and pushed upon me by my friends. Jasmine was an awesome woman, but fuck, Gerard was an awesome man. She had only been easier to screw, while Gerard and I took time and effort and so much care. I loved that care. I wanted to keep that care, and ultimately, it was that emotion I knew that would win in the end.

Jasmine had still been there, and she was confusing the fuck out of me. If I got off to her, but wanted to be with Gerard, then what the fuck was I? I thought I was gay; I had liked it up the ass, and I had liked being with Gerard. Why did Jasmine have to come in and make me think otherwise? I knew I could never be straight again. It was just impossible after feeling so much for a man. But did this mean I was bisexual now?

No, I told myself forcefully. I was not bisexual. That whole concept – of liking both sexes equally - had never made much sense to me, mostly because they were so different from each other. You had to like either one or the other more. But here I was, stuck in a middle gray area that I hated.

I still recalled Gerard and Vivian, how he was gay, completely and utterly gay in every sense of the word, but still had sex with her. Art school was his excuse; the sexual period of the time. What was mine? Maybe it could have been the sexual atmosphere of the cabin, and my friends’ constant push to just get fucking laid. I couldn’t be sure. I could never be sure. I was glad I had shredded her number when I did, so I could keep the cabin as my excuse. If I had still had her number, who knows what I would have done? Would I have called her? Seen her again? But most of all, would I have had sex with her again? It had felt good but – no. Just no. I couldn’t think about this anymore. I had to escape somehow, but the only escape I had ever known was Gerard’s place, and that was not an option.

After thrashing around in my bed, trying to go to sleep, though it was only seven o’clock at night, I settled for getting out of my room, and house, and using my feet for once. The sun had barely set as I set foot outside, the cool night air hitting me and stinging me back into the real world. I took out a smoke as I headed to backyard, knowing that I needed to cool my nerves.

I felt like I had traveled through time and I was sitting and coughing over the first cigarette I had ever smoked. That action had been in sheer desperation, my attempt to get myself even closer to Gerard without actually physically touching him, or admitting everything to myself right away. I had pretended I was kissing him that night, while I was also trying to forget the whole fucking ordeal. Months later as I inhaled, I knew I wanted to forget the fucking feelings I had stirring within me again. I wanted them to die and smoke and burn away so I could just live my life happily again.

I had been so fucking happy when I was with Gerard. It was the first time in ages where I wasn’t scared of growing up or living my life. The fear returned, and was now clouding around me. Even as I smoked, I knew I didn’t want to forget what had happened that weekend. It may have fucked things up entirely, but I knew it was worth remembering. If not for the charismatic girl who bounced on her trampoline, teaching me about growing up and what real friendship was, then for the fact that I had finally realized how important Gerard was in my life, and just how much I needed him.

He had taught me that being alone was the only one and true way to appreciate the things you love. And fuck, I was so alone right then. I was clinging onto a cigarette for some form of warmth in my life, avoiding the ten minute walk to his place. When he had tried to teach me about solitude before, I had been too scared to learn properly and he had to be right by my side to help me along. When I had been taken away from him, if only for a minute, Jasmine had been there to keep me from being alone. I was too inexperienced to do it all by myself; it hurt too much and I couldn’t handle it.

Now, I was pushing away both of the people that had once kept me company, kept me experienced in so many different ways. I was learning to be alone again. I was just as scared as I had been before; maybe even more. I was fucking petrified of everything that was going to happen, everything falling around me, but I was learning. Slowly but surely, I was learning the lessons that would make this life easier on me. That’s all Gerard had ever wanted me to do.

If only I had learned them properly beforehand, I thought bitterly. Maybe I wouldn’t be where I was right then, feeling the way I felt, my stomach gnashing at me from the inside out.

Fuck, I had never felt so experienced at being inexperienced in my entire life.

I threw away the rest of my cigarette and went to bed, burying my face in the pillow, trying to rub the scent of Jasmine off of me before the next morning came.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 497