The Stories I Witness - Jonathan

With my sexual high dissolving, the reality hit me.

The reality hit me hard. I'd just fucked Mark.

I bloody fucked him.

Fuck.

That was not good, not good at all.

Panic filled my veins. I needed to get out. I needed for the past hour to never have happened.

How fucking crazy had I been to get into such a situation? I should have left the very moment he asked me.

How could I have thought that this was better for our friendship than saying no?

My mind raced at lightning speed, but it turned out it was just me who was overthinking as Marks breathing slowed to a too slow and a few snuffles escaped him.

Had he just fallen asleep?

I lifted myself up, petrified, I watched my dick slide out of him and my suspicions were true. He really had fallen asleep.

Good lord, you ask your straight best mate to fuck you and you just fall asleep after?!

How fucking messed up is that?!

Oh god. No, this was better. Yes. I couldn't have imagined having any exchange of words or looks with him at that moment. I frantically gartered my clothes and made my way out.

I forced myself to stop midway out of his house. That was not a good friends behaviour.

But I couldn't make myself stay. Should I even have had? Shouldn't I have had? I forced my panic driven brain to work. What would a good friend do?

He'd drank heaps. Water. Yeah, get him some water. And a pot.

I searched the kitchen for the largest stew pot I could find and drew a glass of water, quickly redeciding and opting for a bottle.

I felt horrible going back to his bedroom. I couldn't even look at him, just sat the pot down on his side and the water on the nightstand.

At least he'd had a very specific choice of a side in the bed for his entire life, always the left, always.

I almost stormed out of there after that, drove back home way too fast and immediately made my way to the shower.

I washed myself almost frantically and let hot water run over me. I never used hot water in the shower. No sane person living in the tropics did. But that day the water couldn't get hot enough.

The fuck had I done? It was too much. How the fuck did we even get to the point that he'd even ask me something like that? Who the fuck asks their best mate to do that?

Fuck.

I kissed him first.

Fuck.

Why?

The realisation made me cry and I sobbed under the shower until my skin couldn't handle the hot water any more.

I really just wanted to dig myself a grave, but hiding under the covers had to do for the time being.

I couldn't sleep half the night and kept cursing myself. To kiss your gay best mate when he's lonely? The fuck was I thinking will happen?! It was all too messed up.

No. The fucking worst of it was that none of my fucking exes had felt as good. Not their bodies, their lips... None of them had looked at me like Mark had, touched me as desperately... and who the fuck I'm kidding, neither had I.

Fuck.

No.

Wake up sober tomorrow and just stop fucking thinking for now.

...

The morning didn't make me feel any better and I tried to find anything to do to keep my mind occupied. By noon I was running out of things to do and decided to finally start building the backyard porch that mother had bugged me with for months.

Life lessons - do not learn a trade that your parents might want to put into use.

I was half way done with measuring and cutting out the foundation posts when I noticed Marks ute pull up.

Not what I needed in my day.

I should have just gone back to the city. Hide in the anonymity of the masses of millions of people.

I forced my cowardly thoughts to stop. He'd been my friend since forever. I was not going to run and hide from him. It was just sex. Sex between friends, that's all.

I put my saw down and sat on the pile of timber as he approached.

He sat on the other side facing away from me.

We spent a few good moments in silence.

I couldn't make myself look at him and it at least seemed that he was in a similar position.

Finally he spoke up saying uneasily "I appreciated the pot."

I didn't know what to say. Well I'm glad to hear that. Thanks for driving all the way up here to tell me that. Obviously not. Honestly I didn't even know if I wanted to say anything.

Silence surrounded us for another good minute before he sighed heavily and I finally felt his eyes on my face and he continued in a shaky voice: "I know being sorry doesn't cut it, but I'm sorry. No matter how drunk, I shouldn't have put you into that position."

"I could have said no." I muttered deciding to share the shame. It was half mine anyway.

He snorted looking away and said "Yeah, sure, my memory isn't the best about yesterday, but I don't remember really giving you a chance to say no."

The air was tense around us. Yes, I was mad at him, but I'd be an ignorant fool if I'd ignore the part I played last night. I was even more mad at myself. Even now half of me pulled towards him, while the other pulled away. Did he even remember I kissed him first?

"How much do you hate me?" he asked gutted.

"I don't hate you... It's just... it shouldn't have happened."

"Jona... I can't describe how fucking ashamed I am. I was drunk and lonely and I really shouldn't have had..."

"Yeah, you really shouldn't." I muttered bitterly.

"I... I understand if you won't come to work anymore."

I sighed and said: "I won't, if you don't want me to."

"No, I... I just thought... maybe you wanted to avoid me."

"I kinda do, but... we have to get over this, don't we?"

"I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

"You want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously.

"No. I don't."

"Okay."

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, no you didn't."

"Okay."

"Was it... alright? For you?"

"Yeah... I mean... yeah..."

"Okay."

"Can we just, you know, pretend it didn't happen?"

"Yeah." he sighed and asked "So we're alright?" after a few moments of silence.

"Trying to be."

"Okay."

"Does Kate know?"

"Yeah, made me come here. I would have just dug myself a grave."

I snorted and chuckled "Yeah me too."

"I think you're doing it wrong." he smirked, gesturing to the piles of timber.

"Can't have ma' bugging me about the porch in the afterlife."

"You want help?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I hope you have some beer for this hangover."

"There's always beer at the Dales."

I went and brought out a six-pack and another set of tools. I was sort of relieved with our conversation. Things could have been worse, much worse. Both of us just accepted that it was a mistake and we moved on. I found myself stealing looks at him as he worked - had he always looked that... good?

Oh jesus fuck, not that again.

He helped me cut all the timber into length and I decided to leave everything else to the next weekend as it was getting dark already.

We had quite an awkward moment as I sent him off. We always hugged goodbye. And then there we were standing confused. We both chuckled a little over our awkwardness and I abruptly pulled him into a hug.

"Thanks Jona." he said in my embrace.

"For what?"

"For, you know, not burning the bridge."

"Twenty eight years Mark. That would have had to have been a real shitty fuck to ruin us like that." I joked and Mark snorted out laughing, removing himself from the hug.

"I'll fucking see you tomorrow." Mark told between laughing and climbed into his car as I just waved him off.

I grabbed a quick dinner and listened to mothers cute speech on how sweet it is that Mark and I are still such friends.

Ironic timing, I know.

Followed by the speech of if he has a woman and that he should get himself one.

Ironic again, I know.

I just nodded and hummed in approval to everything she said like every good child would and hid myself in my room, before my mother could turn into a matchmaker for Mark, excusing myself with the following work day.

Even as I felt much better about last nights events, they still haunted my mind.

Next moment was much like curiosity killed the cat. I sat behind my laptop and looked up gay porn for the first time in my life.

I didn't even know why. Curiosity is an odd thing. I mean why else people watch documentaries about things they don't understand.

I lasted about five minutes until I got too uncomfortable looking at random thumbnails of men doing men. All I learned was that it sort of looked just like regular sex, just minus one pussy, plus one dick.

But I felt so weirded out that I just shut my laptop and sat on my bed staring out of the window where I could only see darkness.

I reopened my computer and tried a different approach, googling every possible thing that would explain gay to me.

I had to admit that it was a thing I had never thought about. Like why and how people are gay and how sex works for them. I mean like how it really worked, not how I naively had thought it worked. Like it wasn't like I could randomly fall for Mark, was it? Not that I was.

I read about everything gay, lesbian and bisexual. Two hours later I turned my computer back off and laid in bed staring at the ceiling trying to progress all that I'd learned. I didn't feel dirty about last night anymore, just puzzled.

Every answer I had seemingly found, created a hundred questions more. Was I really bisexual? Did I like men like that? Like Mark like that? Was it just a one night thing, a bicurious experiment?

Every time I thought back to the touches and kisses of last night, I felt myself tingle. As much as my searches helped me figure myself out, I didn't really feel more clear. It was all confusing as hell. I sighed for the hundredth of time and pulled the covers over my head, forcing myself to sleep.

The next few days passed a tab too slow and my head didn't give me much rest. I saw Kate in the late evening on Wednesday, but I couldn't even get past making out with her. It was like it didn't feel right anymore. Or it wasn't even that, but something I really couldn't pin.

I mumbled my sorries to her and she surprisingly let me off the hook too easily, only asked if I wanted to talk about it and accepted a no, not even batting an eye saying alright, redressing and showing herself out.

I just laid on my bed staring at the ceiling and asked myself questions of 'what and why', that I didn't want to answer.

What and why were some real good questions. It was about Mark. I had to face that. I had to face the fact that I was curious for him to say the least, but I did everything in my power to convince myself that I wasn't a single bit more than just curious for him.

I would have had noticed before if I was interested in him like that, right? So it had to be like just a first step to bisexuality and not about him, right?

We'd often shared the crib, were nap buddies in kindy, often fell asleep on the couch together, sleepovers in each others beds... like there were a million plus moments in my life where I could have noticed that this was about him.

The entire week I noticed Mark giving us a little distance without being too obvious about it. Though, I already missed him.

We'd been like two peas in a pod all our lives, minus the part where I moved to the city and he stayed back. But we'd always been back to our insepretable selves every time I came by and now... now for the first time there was a rift between us.

Yeah, I should gather my nuts and fix it, admit my mixed feelings.

But instead I spent the entire weekend finishing the porch, spending way too much time doing almost unnecessary amounts of weather proofing and final touches.

I had trouble falling asleep almost every night. I couldn't even pin what I felt. Quilty? Ashamed?

For doing it or being curious for more? Ashamed of feeling ashamed? Frustrated? Honestly I felt every emotion that would pull together in a general feeling of feeling confused.

I had my fair share of drinks on Sunday in an attempt to fall asleep easier and had a shower before bed.

As soon as the water ran over me my mind jumped to Mark kissing me. God, he was a seriously good kisser. And just the idea of his dark eyes studying mine aroused me. Fuck, I was rock hard. Why the fuck was I thinking about him again?

Okay, fine, fine. Just to experiment I jerked off deliberately thinking about him. How hungrily we'd kissed, how we'd enjoyed each others hands, how erotic his gasped breaths were, how he came from just me fucking his ass...

And that was already more than I'd needed. It felt good fantasizing about him.

Fuck, I wasn't really considering it, was I? To consider being in a relationship with my lifelong best mate?

Sure the sex we'd had was great, we got along more than fine... but... But I really didn't have a but, unless I wanted to admit that I was just scared.

The next week passed mostly the same. Work, catching glimpses of Mark, who still didn't really talk to me and I really had to sort Mark out for myself, finally talk to him, sort out whatever there was to sort out. I mean, so what if I was bi? Just admit it and figure out where we stood.

I was really worried about the barbecue on Friday. On a level I had really wanted to talk to him about my confused feelings about him, but the question of Jake who was coming by was more pressing.

I caught him in the office after finishing and asked how he preferred it handled. He just replied that he'd suffered through it all his life and why should it have been any different that time around - all while he didn't even raise his look to me from his document pile.

I didn't want him to suffer through it. I wanted him to feel at home, because it was his home too. He was as good as family and it was my folks who insisted that he was like a son to them.

But I didn't know what to say and just shrugged, saying that I'll see him in a few hours. When really I wanted to say that Jake can go fuck himself if he can't be nice to him, but I just couldn't make myself say it out loud. And what really bothered me was that Mark hadn't even looked at me, not even a quick glance.

I figured the safest way to survive until the evening was to hide in my room and pretend to be on a job search. But having the 'fake' job advertisements open made me think if I really wanted to go back. City life was fun in a way, but I had missed the openness of the countryside. And I really needed to talk to Mark.

No, tomorrow I'll talk to him.

I closed off my computer and went to help around with some final touches in the kitchen.

Soon Jake arrived, greeting me as 'baby brother' as always - I mean, just one year younger, one year. We did a quick catch up and Mark and Kate followed soon after.

Jake scanned Kate up and down like she'd be the first alien he'd seen, she was wearing gray slacks and a vest with a white dress shirt. She looked exactly like her personality, standing there like a security guard.

I had a bad feeling that Jake did not like her at all.

Our barbeque started as any gathering, exchanging names, offering drinks, passing food around, talking about food and drink. I felt Mark distance himself from me, but I left it to that. Tomorrow was the day, when I'd do whatever I planned to do.

My parents' faces were incredible as Kate built a tower of vegetables on her plate, it was like they had never seen a vegetarian before, not to mention Jakes disapproving look. But in general my folks liked her even too much. Like, even my father seemed to approve of her. That was new.

It's all too blissful in our outdoor area. Until I heard mother say "Mark, I can't say how happy I am that you finally found someone. I was worried blue about you being all alone on that farm."

Oh fuck. I did not see that coming and by the looks of it so hadn't they. I wished I could have had red minds, but it seemed like Kate was looking at Mark with an accusing face and Mark seemed to hope that Kate would have a way out.

After a few moments of staring at each other, which gained them everyones undivided attention, Kate simply noted "Sorry Madam if we'd misled you somehow, but Mark and I are not romantic."

"Oh? You're not?" Mom asked bafflingly.

"No, no we're not. We just seemed to get along well and I offered her the spare bedroom for the season." Mark confirmed Kates words.

"Oh, I just thought... Mark, I don't want to mother talk to you, but you should really start thinking about settling."

"I'm getting there." Mark rolled his eyes and Kate snickered a muffled laugh.

"You're almost thirty, you don't have forever." Mom continued.

"Ma' please. He knows, just like I know and just like Johanna knows." I said in hopes to end the conversation and surprisingly it worked.

My attempts usually made everything worse. But the restored peace didn't last too long. I hadn't even heard what Jake had said to Kate, but it was replied to with a backhand, that by the sounds of it must have been quite a blow.

The next moment Mark stood between them, holding Kate behind his back. There was fire in her eyes, there was no doubt about it. Mark just looked Jake down with a blank face.

Kate was not happy with Mark stepping between them and tried to push herself off of him until he told Jake "You have something to say about me, you say it to my face."

Oh damn, that was not good.

Kate stopped struggling against Mark and instead wrapped her fingers through the hands that were holding her down.

"You heard me." Jake said, rubbing his cheek and looked him over with a disapproving look.

"Jake, that's not a way to talk to family." Father said, closing in to the two men.

"No fag is a part of my family." Jake hissed at our father.

There were not many ways this all could have ended and I already stood beside Mark in an attempt to show my support.

"Do you realise how absurd you sound accusing him like that?" Father reasoned, but before Jake could reply Mark snapped "Yeah, I'm gay."

He just looked at everyone with a blank expression on his face and said "So, go on, say it all to my face. You've waited years to say it to someones face. So a fag? Moffie? Cocksucer? And maybe I should get some fucking treatment considering how ill I am or whatever the fuck you've said. Oh yeah, maybe I should just go ahead and fucking kill myself or whatever the fuck that was, as I really don't want to live in a world where no one fucks my ass!"

My folks looked in sheer shock as the words came out of his mouth and I couldn't tell if it was over the fact of him being gay or never having heard the full extent of Jakes hate.

"You fucker!" Jake growled lunging into him, but I leaped into him myself.

"You keep your fucking hands off of him!" I yelled, throwing him a punch and hoped to god I'd smashed his nose.

"HE slept in your bed!" Jake accused him as mom called for us to stop.

"So what? You think he abused me? Tried to fucking convert me?" I ranted angrily, throwing another punch at him.

He hit me back and Kate came between us, masterfully tackling him to the ground and punched him continuously, growling "You homophobic bastard!"

For a moment I was just stunned seeing Jake getting beat up by her, but the next moment it registered that she was going out of hand - Jake had no way to defend himself and she seemed to be in a frenzy.

I tried to pull her off, but she wasn't giving up. I called her to stop, trying to at least get a hold of her hand, but she wasn't having any of it.

Finally Mark just lifted her off of him and wrapped his arms around her, whispering something to her, a word or two that I couldn't hear, but made her stop struggling, her intensely focused look easing away.

I just looked over everyones stunned state. And it looked like Mark was pale, sickly pale, as he tried his best to look content and solid. I couldn't even imagine the things that must have run through his mind.