For Always, Forever

The anti-H.I.V. drugs made Zack feel sick. Not speaking to Rian or Martin made him feel sicker. And it was stupid that he wasn’t talking to Martin, anyway, since they lived in the same apartment. He couldn’t stand the way Martin looked at him with sad blue eyes, biting his lower lip and looking like he wanted to curl into a little ball and die. He couldn’t stand the way Rian wouldn’t kiss him anymore. He couldn’t stand the way Jack treated him like he was made of glass, like if anyone looked at him or touched him the wrong way he could break. Then again, he couldn’t exactly blame Jack for doing it, since he had been taking care of Alex over the better part of a year. Really, all Zack wanted was someone who would love him like Jack loved Alex – someone to take care of him on bad days and protect him, someone who would treat him like everything was normal if that’s what he wanted. God, he wanted everything to go back to normal so badly.

One night, after Rian went home and before Martin came back from whatever shitty dive he’d ended up in, Zack finally broke down. He was taking his evening pills, swallowing them dry and staring at the neat row of pill bottles in the medicine cabinet, and he just... broke. The tears started coming, and he curled up beside the toilet and let it happen. After a while, he heard the door to the apartment open and shut, but it was just Martin. He was probably drunk, anyway, so it didn’t matter. A drunk Martin was as good as useless. So he tried to cry quietly, not wanting to deal with his roommate at the moment.

“Zack?” Martin’s voice, quiet and tentative, broke the silence. “Hey, what are you doing in here?”

He looked up at Martin with accusing eyes, assessing the singer’s appearance. He was pretty steady on his feet; maybe he wasn’t drunk after all. “Go away,” he sobbed. “Just leave me alone, okay? I’m fine.” Martin knelt down beside him. “Martin, I said go away. Are you drunk?”

He barely reacted as Martin’s arms wrapped around his waist, enveloping him in warmth. “I’m worried about you,” Martin mumbled. “I know you’re mad at me, but I don’t care. It scares me seeing you like this.”

Zack buried his face deep in the crook of Martin’s neck, still sobbing. It seemed like all he’d done since his diagnosis was cry. “I can’t even handle anything right now,” he whimpered. “And now you and Rian are fighting and it feels like there’s all this weird pressure on me to choose between you and I don’t know what to do because I care about both of you and just, just... fuck.” It had been a long time since anyone had held him like this. Hell, it had been a long time since he and Rian had done any more than just kiss, it seemed. And ever since they had gotten together – or back together, or whatever they were – the passion had disappeared from their relationship. Rian didn’t look at him the same way anymore; it was always with this weird tinge of sadness that made him want to crawl under a rock for the rest of his life.

Martin said, “I want whatever you want. I want you to be happy.” Zack clutched at his chest miserably, embarrassed by how much he needed this simple physical contact. “I would’ve been home earlier, but my meeting ran a little long...”

“Meeting?” Zack asked.

Martin flushed noticeably. “Yeah. I’ve, um, I’ve been going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings for almost a month now. But... I didn’t want to say anything until I got over that first hurdle. I... I just kept thinking, you know, ‘How am I supposed to help Zack if I’m drunk all the time?’ So. I’m kind of doing this for you, but I’m doing this for me, too... I need to be a better person before I can be a better friend to you.” Zack sniffled, wiping his tears away self-consciously. “I care about you, Zack... Please let me in. I want to help.”

Zack turned his head to look at Martin, bumping noses awkwardly with the older man. His blue eyes were honest, full of warmth and... longing? Suddenly it wasn’t just nausea making Zack dizzy. Martin wasn’t backing away. Their lips met slowly, neither of them moving at first. Zack kissed back, shifting slightly to press himself against Martin’s chest, running his fingers through Martin’s hair. He gripped the singer’s shoulders tightly, relaxing into the kiss. He had always sort of wondered... Martin’s teeth grazed his lower lip gently, asking for permission to go further. Zack parted his lips, enjoying the feeling of Martin’s lips against his own, Martin’s hand at the small of his back and the other touching his cheek as the kiss deepened. A small sigh escaped him as Martin’s tongue explored the inside of his mouth, swirling delicately around his own tongue. Who knew kissing could be this good? It was as if that was all they had been made for. His body fit perfectly against Martin’s.

“What the fuck, guys,” said an all-too-familiar voice. Zack pulled away, feeling incredibly guilty.

He stuttered, “Ri, it’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

Martin mumbled something about meeting a friend and shuffled off, looking sidelong at Zack with those very sad blue eyes of his. Rian glared at him, barely restraining his anger at the singer. “Then what is this, Zack? I come back because I feel like shit about not spending the night with you, and I find you making out with your roommate in the bathroom. Tell me how this is not exactly what it looks like, then.”

“I love you,” Zack said brokenly. “But you’ve been acting so sketched out since my diagnosis that half the time I feel like the only reason you were ever interested in me was for sex.”

“So kissing your ‘best friend’ is going to make that better? Seriously, Zee, grow the fuck up. I don’t even know what you want from me half the time. You’re acting so dramatic about this whole thing. How am I supposed to deal with it when my boyfriend doesn’t even want me to touch him? How am I supposed to react when I walk in on my boyfriend kissing another guy?”

“Get out of my apartment.”

Rian rolled his eyes. “What, you’re the one that’s mad at me now? Don’t try to turn this around on me.”

Zack stood up, wishing bitterly that he weren’t shaking. “I said get out, Ri. This isn’t the Spanish fucking Inquisition. I’m feeling really shitty right now, and confused, so just go. And for the record? I’m not mad at you for accusing me of anything – whatever this is, I don’t even fucking know – I’m mad at you because you didn’t say it back.” He stared at his own reflection as he spoke, looking small and scared and sick. “Not once since we started dating have you ever said that you love me back. So fuck this, okay? Fuck it. I’m in love with you, and you don’t even see it.” He sat on the bathroom floor crying for a long while after that, wondering what he had just made of his life. He was a wreck. And, he was pretty sure he had just broken up with Rian.