I Belong With You, You Belong With Me

For a while the room was filled with chaos and laughter. The whole band was acting stupid and joking around, Twiggy and John on one side of the room throwing ice cream at each other, Manson and Pogo breaking shit on the other side and I was going between the two pairs whilst desperately trying to light a fire to add to the carnage. After the energy in the room peaked it was slowly starting to calm and John eventually sat down, Twiggy walking to him and they giggled as they exchanged words again.
A odd twinge went through my body at this sight - John had a calm, genuine smile on his face, the kind of smile I didn't like to see anyone else cause but me.

I watched and tried to rationalise with myself that I was being stupid. But honestly, mine and Johns dwindling relationship had been bothering me for a while now. Things where great at first then it got complicated when I started asking questions about what we where and talking about feelings and basically acting like a desperate clingy teenage girl. Now it was like we where distant and I felt like he was avoiding me.

This wasn't helped by the fact that he decided to share dressing rooms with Twiggy for now, leaving me with Pogo. Don't get me wrong, I love Pogo (mostly in small doses.) but still, the whole partner change just made no sense. We had shared since he first joined. Why was he suddenly acting like this, like we didn't have a 'thing'... like he hated me?

It was all starting to bother me.

The noises where calming down and Pogo sat beside Manson on the other side of the room, Twiggy wondering out leaving John sat alone, so I made my way over there. Pogo had began laughing manically whilst throwing things at the blonde who laughed at first but then tried to shield himself. Our keyboardist however, showed no signs of stopping even after John stopped laughing and told him it was enough.

"Okay, stop now Pogo" my words went to unheard ears, the maniac in a world of his own as he picked something up again and launched it

"STOP" I shouted and both Manson and Pogo stop everything and look at me shocked before bursting into laughter, I turn to John who looks at me slightly annoyed and I go to talk quietly to him but watch as he now turns to look at the ground. A awful expression on his face. And as I go to speak I feel water splash over me and another eruption of laughter, despite my worried state I can't help but let out a chuckle at the others.

Pogo wasn't being a asshole, despite how crazy he was acting. He can't help it, he is harmless really.

"I'll see you guys later" John stands and starts walking out. I find myself begin to slightly panic and, rather pathetically, call out his name. He sighs, pursing his lips but stops.

"What's up now, faggot?" Manson said, a irritated ring in his words and I go to respond but when I look up he is directing it not at me but John, and John doesn't look happy. Instead of responding he just turns the other way and walks out. Manson then turns to start throwing things at walls and Pogo is in his over excited state; looking into nowhere whilst laughing hysterically and rocking back and forth.

I just sigh and can't help but continue on with my embarrassing ways and follow John out to talk to him.

I looked around the corridor quickly spotting the blonde leaning against the wall, so I walk over and feel even more pathetic for chasing him around. I feel like I' annoying and clingy and what I'm about to start saying will make me look whiny and desperate too, but I can't help myself;
"Is something wrong?" I ask softly and go to stroke his arm but he shrugs it off

"No, I'm good Ginger." and he moves, as if to walk away but I grab him. I actually fucking grab him. Pathetic.

"No, you're not" and he looks to the ceiling then goes to answer, probably to lie again, but I cut him off

"I know you John and I can tell when something isn't right. You can tell me. What's wrong?"

He turns to me but still doesn't bother actually looking at me properly. Just stares to the side of me then to the floor. Biting the inside of his lip before he speaks up; "I'm not like you. Do you understand?"

This wasn't like him. This mood, it was cold and distressed and of course I didn't fucking understand.
"What do you mean, not like me?"

My voice lowered. Almost as if I spoke quietly because I was nervous about the answer.

"I'm not gay." His teeth where gritted and I could see his usually pretty and caring face was now so defensive and laced with hate

"Well neither am I John" I let my voice rise a bit, now angry too.

He took a deep breath and looked back up to me, "I think it's best if we stay away from each other..."

"Where the fuck has this come from?" I couldn't help but shout and his calmness was brief as he suddenly took on that look from before as I continue,
"FUCK NO. I will talk to you whenever I want" I'm yelling again and he keeps his voice low but just as angry as mine and I know that if there wasn't music on in the rooms down the hall at least one of the others would of came out to inspect the noises.

"Leave me alone! I'm not a fucking fag" He shouts again and even though I'd heard that word a million times it hurt. Coming from him. After everything.

"Well you know, fucking and blowing me was kind of queer of you John." His fists are clenched and he just turns, walking away now

"Just stay the fuck away from me Ginger" And after that I don't bother walking or running after him, far too annoyed now with the sudden backlash.

***

It had been a day since John blew me off and I was sat in the dressing room. The area I now shared with Pogo and probably would forever. Well, unless Twiggy swapped with Pogo. However, I seriously doubt our keyboardist and John would ever share. For their own, and everybody else's mental stability, they where best kept apart for now.

Speaking of Pogo he was the other side of the room, drinking beer in between getting ready for the show. But constantly moving one leg. He was never one to sit still. The noise was there in the background as I was laying and thinking. Taptaptaptaptap.....

John. All I could think about. I retraced everything, back before he started being cold with me. We had sex, we had a few times. It was fun, I liked it, he liked it. But then, more recently, I'd told him things, I'd told him how I cared about him about my feelings. Then I thought maybe he did just want sex and no emotions. Well that's what I wanted to. I didn't plan for this.

Taptaptaptaptap

But, I've welcomed him. There was a rough patch where Pogo treated him like shit, now Manson is showing his asshole side but me, I never did. We where friends. The anger out of him was so intense. What the fuck did I do?

Taptaptaptaptap

Fuck this whole thing, he is clearly just messing me about and who knows he is probably fucking Twiggy now too. And what am I even saying, I really am acting like a whiny teenager. Fuck.

Taptaptaptaptap

"WOULD YOU STOP FUCKING MOVING YOUR LEG" I lean up and I suddenly realise how loud I shouted and how the room had been silent for so long, it must of came as a shock. I sit up properly now, lowering my voice to a normal level and speaking again;
"It's kind of annoying Pogo" its then I register the shock on his face and watch his features change. Lips moving to pull out into a slight pout as he slides his leg next to his other and lowers his head

"I'm sorry Ginger" I hear him mumble and I feel guilty, watching him walk out the room with his head still lowered, like a scolded child. Then, in a forced casual voice; "I'll be back later"

I curse myself when he leaves. Stupid passive aggression.

Johns really getting to my head.

***

There was a typical party after the show. I had stayed in the corner, drinking and watching everybody act like idiots. Well everybody except for John. He had came for about 20 minutes, then left. We hadn't even looked at each other.
In fact I don't think I really looked at anybody. I just drank, stood, gathered more drinks, sat and drank again.

It was only when I'd left and stumbled about outside in fresh air, that I was hit with the effects of the liquor. That oh so familiar feeling of my mind being clouded, my thoughts wanting to fall from my lips and the sensation that this had all happened before and was a memory.
The most clear signs that I was drunk.

Some how my subconscious had managed to drag me back to the hotel the band where staying at and during this journey I thought of John. I wanted to kiss him again, I wanted to have sex with him and tell him I cared about him but I also wanted to shout at him and tell him how much his words hurt and I wanted to say horrible stuff right back. These thoughts had managed to mash into one single thought in my intoxicated state and that was - I NEED to speak to John.

So with that in mind I was outside his room, banging away at the door in a desperate attempt to get his attention. A overwhelming need to be near him.

Soon enough the door opened and he appeared with his face full of concern; "Ginger! Is something wrong?!"

He started looking me over worried. I looked up to him, to his pretty face and I couldn't say anything just stumble about but I felt him grabbing me and pulling me inside.

"Look at the state of you" he mumbled. And it wasn't insulting, it was caring. Like how a mother would say to a kid after they came home muddy and bruised.

He sat me down on the bed and I suddenly had a normal, regular thought, that one sober thought that still manages to linger in your mind after all that alcohol, so I stood; "I shouldn't of came here, sorry"

"No" He pushes me gently back, "I'm not letting you stay by yourself, you're in no state"
He sighed and sat next to me " You can stay here so I can make sure you're safe"

I nod and look back to him, he is twiddling with his thumbs and watching them intently. His hair fallen over his face slightly. Dark eyes tinged with worry and lips slightly parted. I'm staring but I can't help it. He's perfect.
"Why do you hate me?" it makes its way out of my mouth in a soft mumble before I even have a chance to register it

He turns to me, his face still furrowed in concern; "I don't hate you Ginger" he sighs yet again, turning to face the other way
"We just made mistakes.... I'll run you a shower, you're wasted"

I watch him walk to the bathroom and I feel my stomach drop. Mistakes?

"I thought you liked it" he pauses in the door way when he hears me,

"You're drunk Ginger"

"and you're a liar, you liked it" I stand again and he leans against the frame, putting his head down, avoiding looking at me like he has done for days

"We shouldn't of done it. We crossed a line" he pauses and I can see him gulp, but I don't want to stop there I have more things to say and I follow him into the bathroom as he pulls back the curtain and I take his place of leaning against the door frame

He turns the water on and I notice that my mood has dropped, I feel so low. When we had sex and spoke afterwards I showed myself to him, parts of myself that I had barely shown to anybody before. And he doesn't want me. He seen the real me, judged and ran away.
I can feel that sad, painful ache in my throat and my eyes begin to sting. Tell tail signs of tears.

"The hot waters running, here" he looks up to me then and his eyes seem to match mine. They look red and sad and when I speak again my voice wobbles

"A mistake only happens once. Twice at the most... I, I.. I think you're scared" I take a step forward, it's now clear, even in my drunk mind that John feels just as bad as I do and that's confirmed when he speaks again

"Don't Ginger..." almost as a whisper before side stepping to get behind me and I turn as he walks to the door

"I care about you John, just be brave and... want me back." My voice cracked near the end of the sentence and I watch his head tip and him leave the bathroom shutting it over

I take off my clothes and step into the shower instantly with the thought of "no" just constantly in my mind. It is only when I'm under the shower do I let my tears fall.

But it's taken me this long to let somebody in, to care about somebody at a deeper level. All the times I've ever felt bad about myself have been proven right because he didn't want me. He doesn't want me. Now I'm standing in a shower, drunk and crying. That horrible knot of anxiety in my stomach that is convincing me that this is how it's meant to be.
What about tomorrow? and the next day? and next year? I'll be drunk, alone, again.
The same as right now.
I'm unwanted. I'm unlovable.

I'm leant against the wall and despite the heat of the shower which is hitting my back - my legs are shaking. I'm sobbing by now, my tears running freely and throat choking out harsh noises.
I'm a grown man for gods sake and this is how I'm acting? Further confirmation that I'm worthless.

The door opens - he must of heard me. Shame clouds my mind as he walks straight in and I have to look at him.

I turn, arms around my chest, looking at him and he is actually looking back

"I'm sorry" it's whispered so low its almost mimed

and he steps forward, throwing his shirt off and pulling me into a embrace, I'm still drunk and depressed and I still have tears in me that are ready to fall so I grab his small frame too. A nice but firm hug as I cry a little more and I notice his face is damp and his eyes are red.

"You're a fucking asshole" I sob again, pushing him away and he cups my face, wiping the tears away

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Ken" he used my real name, does this mean its sincere?

He grabbed me again, resting his head on my shoulder, is he crying too?
"I'm scared" he states as he grips my shoulders almost moving even closer. Our torsos pressed against each other hard.

I was annoyed before and I would of pushed him away and told him he hurt me and reinstated that he was a asshole but right now, I can't. I hold him tightly and turn to look at him and then our lips touch, eyes closing as our lips softly caress each other. Then we pull apart, his eyes are full of pain and it's a horrible sight. His voice is breathless;

"I felt ashamed being with a guy but... being without you" he gulps again and we are still so close, the water hitting us both is hot but soothing as he continues, "It makes me feel like I can't live without you"

I don't say anything, but lean ever so slightly forward to let us kiss again this time our mouths part and tongues get involved. We grip each other hard again, kissing more passionately. He pushed me against the wall, his hands on my shoulders and mine on his face. He feels the same and now I don't want to let him go, ever.

It's only then, when I have sobered up a little, do I realise Johns still wearing pants, he came into the shower with only them on and when we pull apart to catch our breathes heavily he notices this too. He pulls them off, leaving them on the floor to form a puddle.

"Can we?" he asks softly, like he every has to ask.

"Don't go though, don't leave me in your bed again" hands still gripping each other hard as he plants another kiss on my lips again

"I won't, I won't ever leave you ever again. No matter what the others say, or who finds out or girls. It's me and you, promise?" His voice is shaky and he lets out even more uneven breathes as we look intently at each other, his eyes still have tears.

Raw emotion. He's scared, but he feels something and he needs to know I'm here. No matter what.

"I promise, I promise" I assure him, he doesn't have to worry about that. We kiss again, and again we are making out and it's so fucking nice

I can feel his hands travel gently down my body so I do the same to him, he whimpers when I begin to stroke. His head moved to my neck and I push away all the tears, all the hopeless drunk thoughts all of them go as I let myself get lost in the pleasure and the happiness of having John touch me and want me. Really want me. How I want him.

I turn us around and he lets out a soft moan at the loss of contact. I push him gently towards the tiled wall as we kiss again and I grab his hips as he grips my shoulders. He knows what's happening and is ready, his leg propped against the ledge in the tub. I move to trail soft touches down his thigh, moving it gently behind me to start pushing fingers into him. He's relaxed and the waters made us both moist so its easy to push them in. I glanced down at my moving digits, my dick twitching eagerly between my legs. After a few moments he pushes his hips into me, moaning gently. Then he does that thing he does, when he reaches a lot of pleasure - his back arching, mouth hanging open and he can't help but let his eyes shut either. I know that's where his spot is and I'm so ready by now to be in him.

I move forward, aligning myself up to be in his entrance and then push. I can't help but moan at the feeling, so tight, so hot, so perfect. I wonder for a moment if John had been with anybody before, maybe he was scared because, maybe, I was his first?

But that thought can't linger, he bites his lip, I can tell he is waiting for the pleasure. As his leg tightens around me and he gently rocks his hips. I can't help it, I push right forward and he gasps then screams out "fuck!" as I rub against him. I push out and in and out and in and I watch him grip the tiles hopelessly and moan and writhe.

"It's okay, I got you" I mumble, pausing to move his arms around me and lifting him its easy enough but I notice his mouth hang open in lust and a slight smile on his face - my strength is obviously a turn on for him.

I grip onto his thighs and start moving in and out again. I kept thrusting my hips, burying myself deep inside him. I growled low in my throat, which then turned into moans. He was too, hissing and groaning and occasionally letting out a "fuck" or "Ginger". My attention was on him solely as I pounded into him, my hips snapping quickly against his cheeks. He just felt so fucking good. I groaned again, this time the sound caused by his insides squeezing around me, which felt like it was done purposely by him. This was confirmed by the small smile on his face as he bit his lips.

It was all so much though, he was bouncing himself and gripping onto me and writhing and moaning. I felt myself getting close, so I moved my arm further underneath him as support and the other to stroke him. Then he did that thing from earlier, he whined out "Fuck Ginger I'm gunna cum" then his mouth hung open and his head tipped, back arching; I felt him twitch in my hand and knew he was about to cum but I couldn't contain my own orgasm. I moved frantically both my hand and my hips as I buried my head into his neck soon a groan escaped my lips and we both reached our orgasms after another.

Letting out shaky breathes I release him and he lowers his legs unsteadily but still grips onto me. The evidence of what we did getting washed away.

I have a momentary worry that he will get dressed and leave me here. Rush off and ignore me again. But he smiles softly at me, gently stroking my face and then repeats what was said earlier.

"Me and you?"

I can feel myself smile. It's that simple. It doesn't matter what happens. I don't have to worry about him going. He won't, we have each other and that's all that matters with us.

"Me and you"