Front
Sometimes I wonder about the choices I've made in my life. For the most part, I'm happy with them. I like the results, mostly. I love that I'm free to be with whomever I want, whenever I want. I like that I don't have to deal with the complications that come with relationships. Its freedom, pure and simple, and the only person I watch out for is myself. I take care of my own pleasure, make sure my partner of the moment is enjoying himself, and all is right in my world. I don't need to worry about calling him the next day. I don't even need to deal with the awkward morning after, because I'm far gone by then.
I've only broken those rules twice in my life. First came Evan. Evan was so damn young, so impressionable. I never could've just fucked him and left him on his own, especially knowing what he'd been through only a few years before. His confidence was fragile at best, and for some unknown reason he seemed to look up to me. I couldn't let him down. So I was lax about keeping my guard up. I let him see more than the guy who loved sex whenever and wherever he could get it. I wasn't just Toby Petersen, the hockey player, the sex fiend. I was Toby, a friend, a lover, a role model. I should've been more careful with him. I should've known that my first conquest that I treated differently would be the first guy I ever had any real feelings for.
And then there's Kris. Kris who I spent three long years with, first in Pittsburgh, then in Wilkes-Barre. I barely remember playing hockey when it wasn't on a line with him. I barely remember having a place of my own without him down the hall. He was never a conquest. To this day he's the best friend I've ever had. I was Kris' first. He'd been through a rough time figuring himself out, and he was nervous as hell to take that step, especially since he'd already lost a chance with his REAL first choice, Andrew. It was the most intense, best sex of my life, even better than with Evan. I had no chance to put up a front with Kris; I was too busy trying to take care of him, to make sure his first time was absolutely perfect.
And you can't exactly send your best friend back to his room after he trusted you with his virginity. So I was stuck dealing with it. Feelings, emotions, complications. I never said anything, to either of them, because neither of them ever needed to know. They knew I cared about them in my own way...they just didn't know how deep those feelings went. Or how deep they still run to this day.
Because now they're together. Kris is head over heels for Evan, in the most obvious ways possible. In his own, less flashy way, Evan's pretty head over heels for Kris. And I hate them both for it, even though I still want each of them more than I can ever put into words. I'm jealous as all hell that Evan gets to hear Kris' voice, so soft and sensual and erotic, telling him how much he cares, how much he needs him... and I'm jealous of Kris, because Evan's never let anyone in the way he's let Kris in.
But underneath all of that...I'm happy for them. I'm proud of them both. Kris has been looking for someone to fall for, someone who would genuinely love him back. Someone who will actually admit to those feelings, even if they're only said in code. And now he's comfortable enough with himself to know that he doesn't have to have complete and ultimate exclusivity to have that love. And Evan... Despite everything he learned from me, he didn't block out love, he didn't completely block out emotions the way I have. He didn't run when his heart got involved. He didn't hide his feelings, even though I'm sure they scared the hell out of him at first. Maybe they still do. Not as if I can ask him about it, that's Kris' job. Kris is the one who talks about feelings and emotions and love.
And so I'm left questioning myself. I'm left wondering why I couldn't find what Evan did. He's in love, and yet he's still free to do as he pleases. He can sleep with whomever he wishes, and Kris is still there for him. Kris can do the same, and yet he knows Evan won't stop caring about him because of it. And it makes me wonder if it's possible for me, or if I've hidden from feelings for so long that I don't know how they work anymore. That is, assuming I ever knew in the first place.
And that's the damnedest thing. I'm not really sure if I ever did. And I'm beginning to wonder how long I can hide behind my front before someone sees past it to the terrified, insecure, fragile heart that it's protecting.
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