Chapter 5

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Chapter 5: Fallout

"Rick? Can you swear to me that the next time H. calls you'll just ignore him?" Jasper asked again, his voice filed with incredulity at my lack of response. I could see his anger rising to a simmer underneath the surface. If I waited much longer or answered this wrong, I was certain it would boil over. And yet...

"H. has been a part of my life for so long, Jasper, and he's not just a casual fuck. I would never do this again, of course, but if he needed me, as a friend..."

"What?" he nearly shouted again. "You have to be kidding me, Rick? You are kidding, right?" He stood up and started pacing. "You mean to tell me if he called you and said he desperately needed to talk and there was no one else, you'd go running to him again? Isn't that how today started as well? He just wanted to talk to you as a friend? Look how well that worked out. Fuck!" he ran his hand through his fringe to push it back off his forehead. "I can't do this," he said, almost to himself. "I just can't."

He turned and walked out of the living room, headed for the front door. I was up and nearly sprinted to follow him, grabbing his arm just as he reached for his keys and wallet.

"Wait, please," I pleaded. "This can't be it. Let's keep talking."

"I think I've heard enough," he retorted bitterly.

"Jasper, I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"Really, Rick? I'm sorry, but I don't believe you. I watched you and I know you meant every word. Oh, yes, I know it would only be a friendly meeting on your part. That would be your only intent. But I saw the other truth in your eyes too. If the same thing happened again, if he pushed you for more again, you wouldn't be able to deny him any more than you were able to today, would you?" Would you?" he shouted when I didn't answer the first question. I trembled under his withering gaze and said nothing. I couldn't say anything, because I wasn't one hundred percent certain he was wrong. God help me, I wanted to be certain, but deep inside, I knew the scenario he painted was a possibility. Even now, even after all this, I still couldn't be sure that I'd be able to resist.

Jasper reached for the handle and yanked the door open.

"Where are you going?" I asked desperately.

"To think," he answered coldly.

"When are you coming back?" I was proud of myself for managing to ask when, rather than if he was coming back at all, which was what I really feared.

"I don't know," he said even as he made his way down the stairs. "I suppose when I've figured out what I want to do next," his bitter words carried up from the stairwell, even though I could no longer see him. I leaned against the door frame and slid down to the floor, my eyes overflowing with tears again. I vaguely wondered if there was a limit? Did one ever cry so much that the tears simply ran out? I had a feeling I was about to find out.

Eventually I crawled into the apartment and shut the door behind me, reaching up to flip the deadbolt locked. I leaned back against the door and continued crying, having no energy to move elsewhere. A good amount of time passed, I didn't know how long. Eventually the tears did stop and my stomach rumbled rebelliously, reminding me it's been forever since I ate. I was hungry, but had no appetite, so I dug out a box of dry cereal and chased it with a beer. I desperately wanted to drink something stronger, something to knock me out and put an end to the pain, but I needed to be sober in case Jasper came back and wanted to talk, so I stopped with the one beer, which in itself hit me harder than it normally would, given my empty stomach.

After I ate and drank I went back to the living room and lay back down on the sofa. I didn't turn on the lights. There was no point. I didn't need to look at anything. I sat in the dark waiting for Jasper. I didn't think I'd be able to sleep at all, but eventually I dozed, though the slightest noise would jolt me awake. Each time I hoped it was a sign of Jasper returning. Each time I was disappointed. I worried about him. He wasn't new to London any more, and he had people to stay with or could find a hotel room if need be, but without knowing exactly where he was, my mind came up with all sorts of horrific scenarios. I shouldn't have let him go when he was so angry. I should have done something to stop him, or else I should have been the one to leave. After what I did, I didn't deserve to be home, safe and sound, while he was out there somewhere.

The break of dawn brought light into the room, but not to my thoughts. From what Greg and Jasper told me about what happened with Edward, Jasper had a history of running away. Was that what he was doing now? Would someone turn up later today to pick up his things and he would simply disappear from my life never to be seen again, the same way he handled things with the last asshole he was with? The thought made me as angry as sad. I felt I deserved more than that, but then he deserved more than he got from me too.

For lack of anything better to do, and because I needed the distraction, I made breakfast and ate, alone, at the bistro table, looking out the window but seeing nothing, just waiting for the click of the door. After I was done and had sat in place for a good half hour, I washed up and put away the dishes. I didn't know what to do with myself next. I watched the clock, feeling the unbelievable weight of every second as I waited for the minute numbers to change, one by one. I finally closed my eyes, and though I would have sworn I would not be able to fall asleep, when I opened them again it was nearly an hour later, though the apartment was just as silent and empty as it had been when I nodded off. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn't do this much longer. Another half hour and I would call Greg, to see if Jasper had gone there. It was the most logical thing for him to do, though if he hadn't I'd have to explain to Greg what happened, and I could not imagine anything I wanted to do less.

I was nearly picking up the phone to make my call when I heard his key in the lock. I stood up, instantly alert, and faced the entryway. I had no idea what to expect or what was expected of me. The most important thing would be to find him safe and in one piece. I figured we'd wing everything else.

He was wearing the clothes he left in and he hadn't showered, which meant he hadn't stayed with Greg and Viktor. If the clothes hadn't been a dead giveaway, the smell would have been. He reeked of cigarettes and cum. I felt bile rise in my throat as I instantly knew how he'd spent the night. My first thought was that I hadn't figured Jasper for "an eye for an eye" kind of chap. My second was a memory of him threatening me if I did anything to get between Greg and Viktor. That Jasper could give as good as he got, and then some. And here he was in person. I had gone out and fucked an old lover. He'd shown me that two could play that game, and he didn't even need someone waiting in the wings.

"You should have called," I complained, unable to keep the accusation from my voice. "I was worried."

"Yeah, maybe," he brought his hand to rub the back of his neck. Normally I loved that gesture. He only ever did it when he knew I was right about something. It was a completely unconscious tell on his part. My own little Jasper secret that even he didn't know about. It gave me no pleasure to see it this morning. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

He might not have been thinking, but it was clear that he had been doing, and exactly what he had been doing too. The only question was who, and even that hardly mattered. I knew it was none of my four closest friends, paired up and exclusive to each other as they were. As far as other men went, one was as bad as the next.

"I'm gonna take a shower and change, and then we should talk, yeah?"

I very nearly asked him if he wanted company. It was such an instinctive thing to do, especially when I too needed to shower and change. I bit my tongue back at the last second, nodding silently, my stomach in knots over how this morning's conversation would be different from our last. Now that he had gone and fucked some random stranger, were we on a level playing field? Was this what he needed to do to be able to forgive me? And did I have any right to get angry when, in essence, I drove him to do what he did by hooking up with my ex? I had loads of questions and no answers.

He showered and changed quickly, and was back in the living room, albeit with damp hair, within 10 minutes. We looked at each other, fidgeting uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. The scent of his shampoo and the sandalwood cinnamon soap wafted over, filling my nostrils and soul with longing. He was within arm’s reach, yet he seemed miles away.

"As you probably guessed, I wasn't alone last night," he finally said. I nodded, the knot in the pit of my stomach growing with his confirmation.

"I want you to know that I didn't leave here last night with the intention of doing that. I just needed to get away and have something to drink. I needed to be away from here and away from . . ." he paused. I wanted to tell him he needn't have done that, as we both knew what he was going to say. He needed to be away from me. He'd made no effort to hide his contempt for me during his tirade the previous evening. "But I certainly didn't go out looking for a hook up or imagine that I'd run into anyone I'd want to go home with."

"But you did." It hurt to say it, but we needed to have everything out in the open.

"Yes," he didn't elaborate. I couldn't decide if this was a good or a bad thing. I had a morbid need to know every detail of the seduction and the aftermath, but enough sense to realize that the pain that would follow would be excruciating and permanent. I left the decision to him. "I know it's hard to believe," he finally offered, "but it wasn't about revenge or evening the score. That's what I realized this morning, when I could think straight again. What you did put me in the right place at the right time and allowed me to be open to the possibility, but what I did last night wasn't about you or us, it was purely about me."

I stared at him, not knowing how to take what he was saying. If what he did wasn't about me cheating, then had he been thinking about it? Had he been unhappy in our relationship? The previous evening, as he was berating me about H., was he really thankful that I had been the one to take the first step on a road he wanted to follow anyway?

"I thought you loved me," I choked out past the pain in my heart. Even as the words tumbled from my lips I realized the unfairness of what I was saying, a sentiment brought into sharp relief by the resentment that momentarily appeared on his face.

"I did, do love you, Rick," he countered. "In a way. I suppose it's the same way you love me, unless . . . Well, I know you haven't been lying to me about that."

"No," I protested, but then looked down in shame. I loved him, and yet I betrayed him. And now he'd betrayed me too.

"We love each other, but it's a different kind of love, a lesser love. We're comfortable, but we're not devoted to each other."

I furrowed my brow, trying to understand what he was saying.

"When I was with James, I desperately wanted someone who wanted me and would care for me, and I thought that would manifest itself by my partner taking almost complete control. That had been a colossal mistake, one I couldn't afford to repeat, so when Edward showed signs of the same behavior, I had to leave. Afterwards, after therapy, intellectually I knew I shouldn't be with men who tried to control me and shape me to their will, but I didn't trust myself not to be attracted to those kinds of men. For a long time it was easier to be alone. Then I met someone who showed me a different way, and I made progress. Since then I've had emotionally healthy experiences with other gay men. But until now, until you, I never experienced thorough happiness in a longer-term relationship of equals. I loved this, Rick. I loved us together. It's been brilliant. I wanted it to last forever. When you asked me stay in London, I actually saw that forever stretching before us. I saw us growing old together, as comfortable in our relationship fifty years into the future as we were in that moment. I thought that was love."

"And now you think differently?"

"I'm not explaining myself very well," he grimaced. "I'd only really begun to put all this together this morning," he sounded apologetic. "My vision is one kind of love. I suppose if you didn't know different and didn't think about it, it would be enough. To be happy and comfortable together. But that kind of love is not enough if your heart craves someone or something else, the way yours obviously does. You and me, we are good together in a lot of ways. We are good friends, we are good lovers, good roommates. But we lack that one piece that joins all the separate good things together into a cohesive whole. That one piece that would mean that there is no one more perfect for me than you and for you than me."

"Jasper," I started, though I had no idea what I really wanted to say.

"It's me as much as it is you, Rick. I mean, if I thought you were the only one for me, I don't think I could have done what I did last night. Like I said, it wasn't revenge or even a desire to be on common ground. I just met another attractive man, we had a great time over a few pints and I wanted to go home with him. It had nothing to do with you or what you did, and everything to do with my desire to see where the night took us."

I swallowed, though my mouth was so dry there was barely any moisture to go down my throat. Did he realize how painful it was for me to hear him say these things? Did the fact that I cheated first give him the right to be so callous?

"I'm sorry, Rick," he said then, as if reading my mind, lifting his piercing blue eyes to look at me from beneath his long, wavy blond fringe. "I'm sorry for hurting you like this and I'm even more sorry for everything I said to you yesterday. I felt angry and betrayed and I didn't think about you at all. When I think of how self-righteous I sounded," he looked down again.

"It's okay, Jasper. I understand why you were angry, and I deserved it. I don't know how to respond to you this morning, though. You say you didn't do what you did last night out of the need to get even, but that is the final result, isn't it? So can we now put it all behind us and move forward together. Work on our relationship?"

He looked up at me, surprised. "Haven't you been listening, Rick? We don't have it. That desire, passion, devotion, bond - whatever it is that makes two people so in love they are inseparable and can't imagine life without the other? We do not have that. And I don't think it's something we can work on. Not when you've already given it away to another man. I don't blame you," he said quickly when I opened my mouth to protest. "I just wish you had figured it out before I became involved with you. Then again, I suppose we did have some great times together, and this doesn't have to spoil those memories. And if this had to happen, better now than later, after I moved here."

"So what does all that mean?" He was dancing around it without coming out and saying anything directly.

"I'm gonna move back in with Greg and Viktor for the rest of the time I'm here," he stated, and this time there was no room for misinterpretation. "I forgive you to the extent there's anything to forgive. I hope you can do the same with me. I'd like to think some day we can be friends again, but right now it just hurts too much, so I would kindly ask you to keep away and not try to contact me before I go back home. I think that would be best, for both of us. And now I'd better go pack. Greg and Viktor are coming over to help me take my stuff back to their place," he said as he stood up.

"You told them?"

"I had to. They deserved an explanation for why I was asking to crash with them."

I buried my face in my hands. I had been concentrating so hard on the impact of what I did on my relationship with Jasper, I didn't even think about my other friends. I could already feel the weight of Greg's disappointment and Dré's disapproval. Viktor and Vince might try to remain neutral, but I knew they would be disappointed in me as well. Fuck! One mistake, one stupid afternoon. No matter how glorious it had been, it wasn't worth all these repercussions. This entire life that I'd struggled so hard to re-build after H. crushed me the last time just crumbled all around me and I was left sitting in the rubble.

Jasper left me in the living room. I could hear the sounds of him opening and closing drawers in the bedroom, but I couldn't bring myself to get up and help or even watch. I just kept thinking about what he'd said about me giving away my devotion to H. I didn't know If he was wrong or right. I never thought about it in those terms. Had I truly bound up my heart with H.'s so much that I couldn't fully give my love to another man? If so, it was the most pathetic thing I'd ever heard. I shuddered as the reality of my life finally hit me with full force. Jasper was in the other room packing. He was leaving. He didn't want anything to do with me, at least in the short run. I'd taken everything he'd ever felt for me, every beautiful moment of happiness we shared, and ground it to unrecognizable pile of fine dust, which he'd just blown apart with a single huff. I stared around frantically, fully cognizant of how empty the flat and my life would be without him in it. I couldn't just let him go without a fight.

I rose and walked to the bedroom. For a moment I stood in the doorway, watching him stuff clothes into his duffel bag. Before he could turn to grab another pile, I strode up to him and grabbed his wrist.

"Jasper, it doesn't have to be like this. I think you have it all wrong. I think you were trying to get revenge and don't want to see yourself that way so you came up with this whole theory to justify leaving, but you're wrong. This is wrong. I fucked up and hurt you and you went out and hurt me right back and I get that. I deserved that. But that doesn't have to mean everything's over between us. I still love you. I think you still love me. Why isn't that enough?"

"You tell me, Rick. We loved each other before you slept with H. Why wasn't it enough?" he barked sharply, pulling his wrist from my grasp. The calm Jasper who confronted me earlier was once again gone. "I tried to give you an answer. If you don't want to accept that, fine, but it's the best theory I've got. Maybe you're right. Maybe it's not that H. is so wonderful. Maybe I'm the one who just wasn't right enough, and you need to keep looking for that perfect man. Whatever it is, you're the only one who can figure it out. And I need to move on. I need to figure out what the hell is wrong with me that I keep getting suckered in by men who claim to love me. Guess I still have some learning to do."

I winced. It hurt to be lumped in with the men who had hurt him before. It hurt even more that I'd made him question himself, that I'd chipped away at the self-confidence it had taken him so much time to regain.

"I wasn't just claiming to love you and it was never my intention to sucker you into anything. I wish I could make you understand how much I want to be with you. How much I want to make up for what I did. How much I still love you and how painful it is to imagine even a day without you."

"Imagining a whole day without me might be painful, but you did just fine for an afternoon, didn't you?" his voice was thick with sarcasm.

"As did you for the night," I took the bait and instantly regretted it. This back and forth sniping wasn't helping anything. I spoke again, in a calmer, more conciliatory tone. "Look, we both gave into temptation, whatever our motives were. Neither one of us is perfect. Can't we just acknowledge that and go forward?"

He didn't respond for a while and I could see that he was thinking about how to answer, which gave me hope. At least he didn't reject the idea out of hand. But hope died with the first word of his eventual response.

"No, Rick, we can't. I was willing to throw my life into an upheaval before and move here for you, but now, with what just happened, I can't justify making that kind of a change. And I don't think either of us is foolish enough to believe we can make a transatlantic romance work, not with what just happened. Let's just cut our losses and say goodbye, and with time maybe we can salvage enough out of what we had to be on friendly terms again. Now please, Greg and Viktor will be here any minute. Let me pack before this all gets much uglier than it already is."

Defeated by his calm and his logic, I tucked my tail between my legs and went back out to the living room while he continued packing. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, and I unlocked it to let Greg and Viktor in. I stood aside as they entered, watching them warily. We didn't hug, as we normally would in greeting.

"He's in the bedroom," I finally said to break up the awkward silence. "He should be almost ready."

"Are you all right, mate?" Greg asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You look like shit."

"That's basically how I feel," I confirmed.

"Jasper called to tell me what happened, but I didn't want to believe him. I told him surely there was some mistake. You misspoke or he misunderstood. Please tell me you didn't really . . ."

I gave him a dark look that answered his question.

"Damn, Rick," he said in that disappointed tone I'd heard so many times before. "What were you thinking? Why?"

I shrugged. What could I say in my own defense? That I wasn't thinking. That being with H. seemed to rob me of my ability to reason? That my body responded to him in ways I could not control? None of that would be helpful.

"Hey guys." The three of us turned at the sound of Jasper's voice from within the flat. "Thanks for coming over. I think I'm all done and ready to go."

Viktor went up to him and drew him into a warm hug, making it easy to see who had his sympathies. "Come," he said, leading Jasper to the bedroom. "We get bags."

"I don't know what to say," Greg floundered. "You and Jasper had such a great thing going. You seemed so happy. . ."

"I don't have an explanation for you, Greg. Not one that will make any sense."

Viktor and Jasper came back into the hallway. Jasper had his messenger bag slung over one shoulder and was carrying a small gym bag. Viktor had two larger duffel bags.

"Here, Vik, I'll take one of those," Greg said, reaching out to his partner. Viktor handed him the smaller of the two bags.

"I'll call you later, alright?" Greg said on his way out. I just nodded my agreement, grateful that at least I haven't lost him completely, at least not yet. Viktor walked out without a word, making me wonder if he would ever speak to me again. Jasper was last. He paused beside me and looked up at me, his blue eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"Jasper, please, stay," I made a last ditch effort.

"Thanks for being such a good host," he said, ignoring my plea. "I wish this could have gone differently. I only took my clothes. I left all the things we bought together - they really belong here in the flat. Goodbye, Rick." he walked past me without touching me. I stood and watched him go until he disappeared down the stairs. I didn't close and lock the door until I heard the front door below slam shut and I knew for certain that all three of them were out of the building.

Slowly walking back to the bedroom, I surveyed the scene he left behind. At first glance, it was hard to notice the difference. With all the drawers and wardrobes pushed shut, it was hard to notice anything missing. The first thing I saw was his key, left behind on the dresser. The second was the picture frame that once held a photo of the two of us on the millennium bridge, the imposing industrial facade of the Tate Modern in the background. The picture was gone, leaving only the gaping emptiness in the center of the frame. I was surprised that he took the photo and momentarily hopeful, thinking it might be a sign that he still had feelings for me. Then I looked in the bin and saw the shreds that remained of the photo. He had meticulously torn it up into such minuscule pieces it would take a forensics team to put it back together. I was sure he remembered that it was a digital photo and that I could re-print it any time. The destruction wasn't about the picture at all. It was all symbolism of how he felt about our relationship, and I got the message loud and clear. Our relationship, just like the picture, had been torn apart beyond repair.