Monday, 14 October 2013

You're Not Coming Back Again 3

I remember our first kiss, as I wait for Arabella, they are late as usual. I left Alex crying in the apartment. I don’t care, he’s made me cry far more many times. I tried calling him, but he didn’t pick up until Arielle grabbed asking me if I knew where he were. I said I don’t, that’s why I’m calling.

My tongue was itching to ask her, how does she sleep knowing that the rumor about us sometimes circulates when Matt is drunk and keeps telling her that she’s holding Alex from a long old love.

Matt has always sided with me, even suggesting that we can stay at his anytime, if we feel the need for some strong visual support.

I had grabbed Alex who was terrified.

“I love you.” He had said, trembling. He grabbed me by the shoulders. “I love you!”

And I kissed him, all the years I’ve spend singing with him, watching him get pissed drunk, thrown random items at him, bought bizarre cds, vinyls, clothes, weird street food, it was all there, all the desire and it was mutual.

Alex was clinging onto me, his tongue went in my mouth first, eager, as he pressed me against the wall, our bodies were fully pressed for the first time and I felt him entirely on me, his hips against my own.

I had never touched anyone like this before, all the girls I’ve tried with can easily be thrown out of the window, as I’ve known who I had always loved.

I kept pulling him closer, I got scared when I lifted his shirt and Alex didn’t stop the kiss, just briefly to take it off and I think I stopped breathing for the whole thing.

I just watched him, shirtless, I’ve even seen him naked, but it was a different context,

he was mine.

I felt as if it would be forever.

Lust turns strong.

I get called in to pick her up, she’s grown. I can’t help but grin, as I sign the final paper, shaking hands and knowing that I became a proud father. I wondered what would happen now, what if things stay the same, would I have to tell her about Alex?

I wondered what her sexuality would be, giving her advice towards women, I was useless at that, they were always the blanket of covering up for Alex, some sad excuse to the lack of our official status.

I drove back and she was sleeping, awfully quiet. I had bought all that synthetic milk, that was all she could eat for the moment and I’ve tried warming it up, hearing people complaining that it is a bit tricky, so I figured it would be better to prepare myself rather than do it when Arabella is crying.

I had wondered if I should change her name, but then why would I?

I had met the mom once, she was nice and I wonder if Arabella would grow like her. We agreed that Arabella can always track her down, but she wanted no rights, just the allowance for Arabella to find her if anything. That was easily arranged and I became the legal father. She had asked me if I had a girlfriend and I just shook my head, saying that I’m gay. The mother just shrugged, saying her best friend was bi and she hoped that my relationships were less melodramatic than hers, hoping that queer men were better. I just laughed saying that my relation is just as fucked and she just wished me to be the best dad ever.

I wonder how would it be, with a man coming in and out of my life every single hour. Alex making my head spin with desire, as I can’t understand if I want him to leave or stay. He’s not staying, so I have to choose if I want nothing or a bit, but I want it all. I want everything which can be given to me desperately.

Sometimes I wish he had the old haircuts, because he trimmed it and everything started falling and you just start liking everything which changed to disaster, I liked seeing him geeky and young, he still lacks puberty though.

I just don’t like the shell he creates around him and in the morning when he puts on hair gel, it feels like he is trying to emphasize that he does not have a relationship with another male.

I know it’s a big deal for him, but is it really such a big deal with who you sleep with and not getting accepted by some churches and people?

I mean, you get to be happy with yourself, sure the bitterness is left in the mouth, but no in the heart and the anchor is long gone, left on the shore, actually proved useless when you can sail so far. I don’t think one would choose death over good life.

The whole problem with Alex was that until pure recent he didn’t accept himself being attracted to men and usually you discover that you’re attracted to the same sex and then you go on, but he kept going without accepting it himself, it wasn’t even about outer acceptance in the beginning, watching a bunch of old photos made me realize that before we had kissed.

Sometimes I try to remember something cheesy Alex had done to me and I fail. I just can’t recall and I wonder if he ever accepted my love as well. He loved me, but he never accepted it.

When we’re back I check too see if Alex is still in and he pretends not to notice us, he only stubs his cigarette, his sight focused on the window, as he doesn’t turn around.

Then he turns around, he has been fiddling with his hair a lot so his quiff is gone. He looks at me first, not adjusted to my daughter yet and then he looks at Arabella who is in my arms. I don’t know what to say and neither does he.

I just turn on my heel and go to Arabella’s room, closing the door and I don’t know if I’m crying because Arabella is home or because Alex is home.

Eventually I hear him knocking and the baby starts waking up and then her face cringes and she gives me the first taste of lack of peace in the house, when I already have Alex to deal with.

Alex instantly pushes the door open.

I just grab Arabella and shove her into his hands, using him for the meantime as I go back to the kitchen and I start warming up the synthetic milk. Alex starts cooing at her, rocking her heavily and eventually he starts humming something, looking up and trying to chose a more appropriate song than about Flo. He actually starts singing Arabella.

I always wondered who was Arabella in his eyes, but I never asked.

Instead Arabella listens to her own song, still raising her voice from while to while before I give her the milk bottle. I grab her from Alex and he keeps staring at her. We both stare at her and I think we both have wide smiles as she watches us back, surely not asking questions like society does about who is the mother and who is the father.

I’ve thought about it before and I knew that I wanted both of us to be the fathers, we are both men after all and it doesn’t matter who gave birth even if it was me or Alex by some new technology I’m not aware of. I feel Alex’s hand on the back of my neck, but it’s not sexual, it’s comforting and he presses a kiss against my lips. He still wants me,

but now I feel like Arabella is my armor and I have something to look forward to when he leaves, Arabella is now my sweet little love.

I can’t break up with him,

he can’t break up with me.

I can’t help but cockblock myself even after we feed Arabella and Alex keeps kissing the back of my neck and I feel his tears mixing with his kisses. His touch mixing with sweat and salt. Alex strokes my shoulders,

give me strength, I wonder asking Alex himself in my mind

give me the strength to love you more

so that I can hold you walking through the door

leaving the child which could’ve been ours

or which is.

I have papers for Alex’s adoption.

It stands out in my throat and hunts me. I want him back, I want him for myself and Arabella. Alex stays later for the night, as we just feed her, change her diapers and watch bad reality shows on MTV skipping Kardashians and Honey Boo Boo, wondering how would we accept Arabella in such a lifestyle but then neither of us are not known-

Speaking of known

I feel like showing the bloody knife.

“You know that the paps will pick me up with a child and no woman, right?” I ask Alex.

Alex remains silent.

“I want to come out publically as gay.” I quickly glance at him and at Arabella who is sleeping in her small basket. “I won’t mention you, I promise. I’ll deny any rumors about us, it’s just about me and I don’t want any questions, although I can’t avoid them. I just-

I’m tired.”

My eyes bore into Alex’s who are pale and I realize how age and misery still managed to catch up in his eyes and he just closes them not to reflect more pain.

“You can-”

“No.” Is his definite reply. “Either we do it like this or we don’t do it-”

Our dialogue is short and sharp.

“I don’t think either of us have an option, Alex. I come back running and so do you.” I feel like grabbing him by the collar but I’m too sleepy, instead I grab his chin. “You’re still on the Kinsey scale and you fucking are homosexual to some extent. Exactly, you’re pan, I fit in and you fit in me.”

His eyes sparkle and he looks down.

“I can’t.” And he grabs my own face, kissing me above my upper lip before licking my bottom lip and pulling it.

“The closet is going to devour you.” I say, closing my own eyes as he keeps pressing kisses against my mouth.

“No, I’ve got you among the socks.” He smirks. I don’t say anything and he just holds my hand as we watch Arabella stir at our row.

Children feel it and children are born out of love, out of the love which you’ve been given, Arabella was born out of Alex. Ironically that the song as well. I wonder if she’d listen to it when she grows up, if Alex will be around.

I had wondered if Alex would ever take his life, the closet strangling him and I’d imagine him drowning, sinking, dying, bleeding, strangling. Everything, every death to make sure it wouldn’t happen

But then maybe I’d be the one who dies and he who remains with dear Arabella.

I don’t think I’d die if a heterosexual couple would have to raise her in my place.

Maybe I shouldn’t give Alex the documents. But then Alex or unknown sexual couple?

Alex is a cheater and a liar, but so is the Bible with all the men and miserable women.

When we first broke up and my parents hadn’t accepted me, it was surreal and I just walked outside, the cold stroking my cheeks with such pain that matched my insides and I had dropped myself into a dark pond. I recall how my clothing turned like heavy soaked wings which started detaching from me and I had taken it off, leaving myself in a plain turtleneck.

Then I felt someone else drop near me and grab me.

I was pulled out with a gasp and massive coughs from either of us.

My ears were all full of water and I just replied to whatever he had asked as,

“What’s the point?”

Alex slapped me across my face, his whole body trembling and he had run out in pajamas, scared of what had I been doing.

“If I’m not a point, find something else then!” He snapped and pulled me up, walking in front of me, only to glance to make sure I was still there.

Sometimes when I’m nearly suicidal I wonder, what if I like our dysfunctional relationship, every kiss because they become rare feel like the first with the thrill of wondering if he’ll ever be mine?

I kept looking at his shaking shoulders and it never occurred to me that it could be tears and I wondered what would happen to my wool coat which I had bought with Alex and how metaphorical was it that it was the first thing I had gotten rid of prior to death, but it was Alex who had pulled me out.

What if I had died and all this now is a massive what if, it’s been so long that I wonder if Alex still has it on his mind now.

We just watch Arabella sleep and I’m thankful she’s calm for the moment as I’ve heard of really not calm children, but she isn’t ill, I guess it’s just a matter of hour before she wakes or starts crying.

I sit on a chair near the craddle, putting my hand on the reel, understanding that now-

What if Arabella was just to make sure I don’t do any critical moves?

I had noticed then when we were heading back to my apartment, that I had steam coming out of my mouth. I wondered how cold was this winter going to be as I had already worn warm scarves in summer as my parents had denied me,

Alex had then shut off his mind, his own thoughts, telling me that it doesn’t matter, trying to bring me back and kissing me with no return.

I had been bad, I thought that it would be me the weakest one, but once I had kissed him in the train station

Alex had pushed me away, heading to the nearest empty M&S.

He had told me to stop it, to remain whatever we have and that we could refrain from making it worse. Alex had told me that we don’t have to tell his parents, so that nothing would happen to us, that it’s fine, homosexual couples have hidden for years and the thin coating of acceptance which the UK has is bollocks, we both knew that, but I wasn’t sure that I wanted to keep living like this and it sounded more like my word’s than Alex’s.

It didn’t take him long to start dating Arielle, he had cut off his hair as well, prior to that and no longer he had the long hair I could pull

Maybe I am thinking too much, too many memories and I see him choosing those washed fruits in M&S.

Alex keeps watching me, taking out a comb and I can’t help but start laughing, softly, sometimes he feels like a shell of what he used to be, but I know it’s still him when he drops the comb and tries to walk soundlessly and fails.

I put my hand to his quiff, feeling his gel and I start straightening it, Alex smirking and I see how he had aged, how both of us had aged and how young Arabella seemed to be, to pick both of us up.

What if I’m selfish?

What if Arabella is the Alex I’d never have?

What if I’m just toying with a child?

But then my hands are better than no hands even if my relation is a wreck and the second father will be hidden behind his own hands.

I remember how after we had sex for the first time I felt as if I laid on needles but as soon as I opened my eyes and I saw Alex drifting off, his lips playing a smile, I felt relaxed and I glanced up at the ceiling, grabbing his hand, intertwining our fingers before I shifted closer to him, my whole body burning for touch and I rested against him, both of us trying to be plasticine, to mix ourselves to never see anything else.

The first night was awkward and I was surprised to see Alex as puzzled as I have been. It was a quick game of guessing to make sure she’d stop crying. And when Alex had stood up faster than I had, I realized that we had crawled into my bed for no explicit reason and I really wondered how did Arielle feel about this.

And I also wondered how did it feel like being his first choice, how often they had sex and how cooked what. I wondered why did they spend time apart and it seemed all so different from that time we had nearly been together.

It was only when I went for Alex when I had started thinking about labels, where the fuck would I fit. It was no doubt that I had been attracted for males for so long, I’ve always been, it wasn’t the first desperate wank when you just wonder what the fuck and why are you burning and why don’t you feel the same for the opposite sex, it was new, it was straight forward, it was actually wanting a person. It had been in high school and it had been shrugged off after I had wondered where the hell do my hands go and how far would a girl go and how far can I go.

Obviously with Alex it had been an injection which still aches at night if I shift too much. I know I should stand up, but I can’t, I want to be in my lullaby and frankly, I think I’m falling asleep, my thought messily tumbling apart and I don’t know who I am. All I want is for him to shake this out of me and I wonder how the fuck have I even managed to become a father after all the paperwork and the smoked cigarettes with the constant questionnaires and showing the funds of each fucking week for the past few years.

No, but really, how does it feel to be chosen one who gets cheated on? How does it feel to be the one sitting near the wheel, too occupied to look back?

I still wonder how come she hadn’t knocked on my door and asked me everything, like Alexa had.

I still remember her, it had been way after I had told my parents and me and Alex had split, but we were still together. Alex had loved Alexa, but I was still there and the fact that we had went to Paris together wasn’t helping. Nothing was helping. There were times when our hands were kept to ourselves or there were times like that when we both had said fuck it, there were days where we wouldn’t crawl out of the bed, there were days where we had written four songs and there were days when we were sure when we would come back, it would be different that we could be gay in both meanings of the word.

But nothing of such happened, I remember the short plane ride where Alex had paled and it’s not like we both knew that he had cheated on her, I had always been the main lover on the side. It was weird to see Alexa as someone who Alex had cheated on me with, but with the photos I had wondered if it was finally someone who Alex could shut the closet door with forever. But she wasn’t.

And when she suspected something it made everything worse.

Alex had been at mines.

I was tired and I opened the door shirtless, knowing what was awaiting me. Alex hid in the closet, ironically and Alexa started crying as I just made us tea in the same kitchen. I hadn’t changed the apartment, I’ve had too much Alex in it and I liked the apartment not because I had fucked him against every single one of these walls. It was well... I liked it and I wasn’t the one shying off the memories.

I heard a small thud and I don’t think Alexa heard it, sitting there, not even able to light a cigarette.

“How many months?” She asked, her lips barely moving and I see that she’s pretty and she’s a nice person and all, but hey, I’m on my side. I shouldn’t feel bad for someone who is a cover up for Alex hiding off his relationship with me, I know she’s not the culprit, the culprit would be Alex’s fear and my parent’s denial.

I blow on my cup.

It’s been five years then. Now it’s seven. People get married and have children by now, they go with the flow and buy donuts for tea time, instead I’m playing hide and seek with all of Alex’s beards. I really wonder.

She could have told.

She didn’t. Alexa walked out, saying she doesn’t want to tell anyone, to let anyone know that she had been blind the whole relationship, that all these years Alex had eyes for someone else. I can’t blame her, but I can’t understand her.

I haven’t been on her side, I haven’t seen what’s it like to be a cover up, knowing that Alex has been there for someone else. Maybe I’m blind.

But I know I’m not, Alex come back, rubbing his eyes and I pull him on to of me, knowing that tomorrow he’ll go and I don’t know when he will come back. Today he is everything and tomorrow it’ll be me with the synthetic milk and re-watching all the Disney movies with Arabella, giving her slowly a growing environment. We’ll go outside and we’ll see all the trees go naked and start counting to Christmas without Alex.

“Five years.” I had told her, feeling tired myself and I had walked out of the room, not feeling like seeing her bawl. I walked back to the closet and Alex had given me out a shirt, himself sitting there crying. He’s chosen. I think we all three realized, that well, I still happened to stay all these years with being on the side, while Alexa had to make her choice.

Alex never headed out of the closet, ironically and I hadn’t told her.

Both me and Alexa parted and it’s funny that I had given an interview to her before and she had asked me what was the ideal woman for me.

Once she left I opened the closet, gave my hand to Alex, but he stood up himself and headed back to the kitchen. He started washing the cups after me and Alexa, randomly and we didn’t say anything, just lit our cigarettes, not even sharing one.

I knew he would still not come back to me, but I was poisoned, there was no point in hiding it, it’s been like that with Alexa and I’ll manage it again, if he finds another beard

I honestly don’t know how long it’ll take and if I’ll be willing, but I’ll be here

And now I’m with a child in my arms.

It’s the morning.

I’m feeding Arabella and I honestly wonder, how long will it take for Arielle to find out. But they aren’t as attached and suddenly I don’t feel so scared anymore. Not as scared, which I wasn’t when Alexa showed up.

I’ll be shirtless again and most likely Alex will be there with Arabella crying for both her fathers.


Unlike usually this chapter had been written in fragments. I've seen people discard Alex's old looks or haircuts like in magazines and I usually reply with a pout, like, hey, he was always gorgeous. I figured Miles would have a deeper reason than me though xD

The fact that Miles would come out was literally planned from the first thoughts of the story, so there it was.

My favourite scene in this chapter and one of my favourite scenes at the moment would be Miles' suicide attempt which I remember writing on a child play ground and it had been freezing cold and I remember sitting on the swing and imagining the whole thing. The image really stuck to me of the coat just swimming away from him eventually.

I had the thought yesterday that one of my favourite stories plot-wise despite the horrid characters and everything would still be The Time Traveller's Wife and even if the relationship there wasn't as dysfunctional and emotionally heartbreaking as it is for Miles' here, maybe this is where the non-linear is based on, but even if I did, it was really subconscious and the thought really came to me yesterday xD It's a lovely novel, but the characters and everything, which is sad because the plot is amazing and the whole idea behind it.

Initially it had been the idea that Arielle would confront Miles, but I had figured might be a bit too early and I started thinking about Alex and Alexa because I am sort of going by the dates. And the idea that Alexa knew about them had been in my head as well.

This is an angst fest as usual xD I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to request:3

I know I've drifted off with Milex, but I'm keeping the other requests in mind >.> so sorry

Gandalf's Inhaler is back tomorrow with it being much more light in parts XD

Feel free to request for the next chapter :D


You're Not Coming Back Again 4

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