© 2012 ChicosTodos. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If you are a minor, or if it is illegal for you to read material containing sexual activity between male adults, please refrain from reading any further.
-----
The naked mechanic stayed sitting in his bed. Three words were branded on his mind, refusing to fade away.
I loved you. Not "I love you". I loved you.
Danny left. Roberto wasn't the one who left this time; his bitch, his French-Chinese twink, his source of endless pleasure, his young, abiding, generous, passionate lover. His.
He was no longer his.
Roberto got up and walked out of the bedroom. The first thing that caught his eye was the protein shake on the kitchen counter. Then the plate of fruit beside the shake.
Danny was just here. He had him, here, his fingers wrapped around the plastic cup of the protein shake, his teeth biting into a piece of apple, his blush always easy to tease out, his tight, hairless ass always willing.
The mechanic touched a slice of apple, tracing his fingertip around its freshly cut edge. And then it hit him: all that was left was cold, hard fruit. Danny was gone.
The tears came.
-----
Danny cried all his tears for Roberto the following week. On the eighth day, when he woke up, he made a decision.
He wasn't going to be a victim. And he was going to learn from this.
It was the last semester before graduation. Some of his classmates slacked off in the home stretch, having already landed jobs or long ago calculated that they would pass even if they failed everything from this point on. Not Danny: he worked hard. He did all his readings and assignments, avoided procrastinating, joined the creative writing and Francophone clubs on campus, and started tutoring high-school English and French. He bought an agenda and filled it with colour-coded tasks, deadlines, appointments, and meetings, planning his day down to the half-hour if needed. There was simply no room for horrible nightmares; his agenda clearly showed he was fully booked.
Danny made a point to meet and hang out with as many new people as possible, sometimes meeting three different groups in the same night after class. It didn't matter that, often, what they did or said didn't really interest Danny; he needed to be around people, needed to be anywhere but in his bedroom, where he could stop and remember.
The new social settings also gave him ample opportunities to employ lessons learned. Like putting up walls. Holding back. Keeping secrets. Never depending on anyone. And lying. He told every person he met that he had a boyfriend: older, an electrician, and yes, things were going fabulously. He faked nice very well; it got him a few job interviews.
With every passing day, in that moment right after he shut off the morning alarm, Danny understood more and more why Roberto did what he did.
There were no nice guys out there. Or, at least, nice guys worth a second glance. Liam was nice; it wasn't enough. And love, the burning question that he fed, the brave admission that earned him a ticket to personal hell? It was a stupid word, a mushy sentiment that equalled weakness. He was sure that's what Roberto thought of it: count on lust, never love. Just fuck; don't give a fuck.
He felt like he finally understood the mechanic now, so well. They shared kisses, bodies, and bodily fluids, but under the skin, they were continents apart, reading completely different books. Roberto taught Danny so many things, but no lesson was as valuable as the dark, cruel underside of affection. He studied it well.
Most of his friends were impressed with this studious, multitasking Danny, no doubt the result of a new year's resolution, they thought. But the people closest to him were worried.
His mother thought that he was overextending himself; Danny reminded her that she'd always encouraged him to get better grades and meet new people. Meanwhile, Richie had never seen his best friend like this. He'd been there when Danny was at his lowest, bawling his eyes out and sinking into a brief spell of depression over his grandfather's death or getting a C on a project he worked really hard on, but cool, guarded, goddamn superficial Danny? It confounded Richie.
Danny's best friend had asked what happened between him and Roberto; Danny replied that they weren't on the same page. Richie then asked how Danny was feeling; his best friend shrugged and said he learned his lesson. From then on, Danny repeatedly denied that there was anything wrong.
Richie was at a loss. He was also dating Trevor, Mr. Blond Mohawk who was a tattoo artist, so the two best friends drifted apart. Too busy trying to keep busy to care, Danny focused on the future, as in distancing himself from everything that had happened since the day his mother sent him to get the oil changed.
Time moved on; winter gave way to spring. The young man graduated with honours, also making the Dean's List. He landed a junior copywriting job at a telecommunications company; he would start a month from graduation. That made his mother happy.
The snow was melting; sleeves and hemlines were disappearing. Danny called Richie back and began to party like never before; it was now Richie's turn to start declining nights out drinking and clubbing; he preferred quieter settings with Trevor now. Danny went to every bar, every club, every establishment on the gay strip, with new friends or just by himself. He said hi to everybody, including the employees and patrons at the bathhouse.
-----
Five months since Danny walked out of Roberto's apartment, walked out of his life, and the mechanic was still an insomniac.
Soon after Danny had left, Roberto took a month off and visited Portugal. The last time he was there, he was ten years old. Everything looked and felt different on this visit; buildings and spaces seemed much smaller; the restaurants and parks he remembered were no longer there; his extended family, who were all happy to see him, looked so much older. During his stay, his parents tried again to get him to move back home. He left after four days.
Through it all, despite being an ocean away, Roberto couldn't stop thinking of Danny. He'd called and texted him several times since he last saw the young man, but perhaps unsurprisingly, Danny never responded.
He was the last person the mechanic had sex with. Nick approached Roberto several times, offering to stay late at work; Steven still tried to chat him up every day he went to the gym. Roberto paid them neither attention nor interest. He saw them as dirty mistakes that he couldn't erase, filth and shame he had to face day in, day out as consequences for his actions, as punishment for hurting Danny.
He didn't go looking for fresh ass; the hunt had lost its appeal. He didn't go out with Fred or the few friends he had either. Instead, after work, he got groceries at the supermarket, turned on the cooking channel when he got home, and got down to business. He was always a good cook; preparing food allowed his mind to focus and calm down. For an hour a day, he didn't wonder "what if?", he didn't think "I wish..." That happened later, when the dish was finished and Roberto stared at it, alone. At least Fred and the other mechanics appreciated his tasty leftovers.
On a Saturday evening in May, Roberto had to go downtown, to get some Indian spices and dried vegetables for his latest recipe. Right before he entered the specialty mart off a busy intersection, he recognized someone coming out of the tattoo parlour next door. It was Richie.
Roberto instantly called his name. Danny's best friend turned around; he was with a tall, slim guy with a blond mohawk. The young man's eyes went wide.
"How are you, Richie?" Roberto asked, trying hard to keep his urgency in check.
"I'm good." The young man was stunned that the mechanic was standing in front of him. Roberto was unshaven and looked a little skinnier. Richie wanted to find out what happened five months ago, but he also wanted to protect his best friend from the man who changed him so completely. "How've you been?"
The mechanic looked lost for a moment.
"It's been rough..." Roberto finally replied, running his hand through his short, ungelled hair. He looked at the young man. "Can we talk?"
Richie looked up at Trevor. "Are you gonna be okay?" the tattoo artist asked.
"Yeah. He's a friend of mine and Danny. We're just gonna catch up."
Trevor shot a look at the mechanic, then arched his eyebrow. "Okay. Call me when you're done; I'll be at home."
"Thanks, Richie,," Roberto said as Trevor walked away. Richie nodded. They went to a coffee shop nearby and awkwardly waited for their orders in silence. Then they found an empty table and sat down, facing each other.
"So..." Roberto started.
"What happened between you and Danny?" Richie asked at the same time. The mechanic took a deep breath.
