Coming Out with the Truth Ch. 02

Well, shit.

I hauled him up off the floor and half carried him into the lounge room where there was actually a couch now. He was pretty much a dead weight and I was glad he wasn't any bigger than he was. I meant to gently deposit him on the couch but my feet got tangled with his and I ended up sort of dropping him so I didn't fall on top of him. He stayed exactly where he fell. I heard him sniffle. I took the rum off him, having to prise his fingers off the neck of the bottle and took it back into the kitchen.

I called my deputy as I tipped the rest down the sink. "Hey Mac. Gonna be late back from lunch."

"Problem?" he asked.

"Just a drunk." I said and he laughed.

"Already? Jeez. Better you than me." He said happily and I rang off. That took care of that, at least.

Now what to do with Keith?

I went back into the lounge where he was curled up and was sobbing quietly. I perched on the edge of the couch next to him. He didn't acknowledge me in the slightest so I gingerly rubbed his back like I had vague recollections of my mother doing.

"Hey now, Keith." I said gently, partly so I didn't feel like I was rubbing his shoulders just because I wanted to. "It's ok. It's gonna be ok." He sat up at that and looked at me with blazing eyes. He smelt very strongly of rum.

"Nothing's ok!" he slurred angrily and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "Graeme." He blurted then. I nearly told him I was John, then realised this might be the beginning of the story. "He's getting married. He's engaged. He'smarryingher!" I didn't know who Graeme was or who he was marrying or why it was an issue so I kept quiet and kept rubbing his back. And tried to pull my thought away from what it would be like to run my hands over his bare skin. "Six fucking years an' he-he's engaged and iss ony been six weeks! An' they're getting married in another six weeks onourannivers'ry and I thoughd 'e was goin'askme. How c'd he do this?" he finally asked and then pulled his knees up and hid his face again. He drew shuddering breaths. "Bastard." He whispered. "Lying fucking prick." I wasn't sure who he was referring to.

"It's ok." I said quietly, even though it most clearly was not. I didn't know what else I could say. "I'll take care of you." I said gently, and he looked at me then. His eyes were swollen and bloodshot and his cheeks were flushed and tearstained. And those pretty pink lips were slightly parted.

"Your eyes 're pretty." He said suddenly with a hiccup. Drunker than I'd thought?

"Uh, thanks." I said blankly, found him fixing his fingers behind my neck.

Well, shit.

He was gorgeous as fuck but I did not kiss. Never. No matter how many men I'd been with there was never ever any kissing. "Ok." I said warningly. "That's enough, now-" he cut me off, pressing his lips against mine and immediately pushing his tongue into my mouth. A bolt of lust shot straight through me. Little John was immediately awake. I didnotkiss, but fuck, he tasted good and I couldn't help myself. His mouth was hot and slick and softer than I'd imagined. He clung to me tightly even though that wasn't really necessary any more. I was kissing him back now, enjoying the warmth of his body against me. It felt really good. Unbelievably good. Keith moaned and reached for my belt.

Oh Christ. Not on my lunch break. Not while he was drunk as a skunk.

"Keith, no." I said firmly.

"I wan' you." He slurred. "You make me hard when I see you and I wanna lick you all over and see'f you taste as good 's you look." That sent heat straight through me. "Wan' you to fuck me." he said, looking up at me with wide dark eyes and kiss swollen lips. "Wan' you to fuck me hard til I cum and cum and you cum inside me..."

Well, fuck. The image almost made me lose all of my control. I had to stay professional. I had to.

"Come on." I said firmly. "Let's get you up to bed." He seized on the word 'bed' and was immediately up off the couch. I had to catch him because he nearly face-planted back onto the carpet. I helped him up the stairs, aware of the way he tented his pants, trying to ignore the way he grabbed my arse and breathed against my neck and tried to pull my shirt open. Given he was drunk, he didn't do a good job.

His room was the second door along. He had a nice king sized bed, a beautiful blue-green quilt set that would look really good against his hair and naked skin, I was sure. I let him fall onto the bed and he smiled up at me, held his arms out to me.

"Ok." I said with some resignation. "Let's get you undressed." I wasn't sure how I was going to go about that since I had a pretty strong feeling he wasn't going to take my staying dressed very kindly.

He tried to help with the buttons on the shirt, but he was pretty useless in his state. He was more of a hindrance than a help. I pushed his hands away and managed to get him undressed to just his boxers and socks in pretty quick timing. Keith lay there smiling blearily and murmuring things I didn't quite catch, but which I suspected were in the same vein as what he'd said downstairs, especially given the erection tenting his boxers and the way he made random passes at my belt and shirt. And when each item of clothing I removed displayed more of his beautiful, soft, skin, it was probably a good thing I didn't listen too closely to what he was saying. I was already nearly as hard as he appeared to be, just from catching vague words and the images they brought to mind. He reached for his boxers off and I stopped him. The temptation was bad enough as it was. I did not want him naked and hard in bed.

Well, that was I lie. I did. But not now. Not drunk and upset. Not during my lunchbreak.

I was trying to get him under the covers while keeping his hands away from my belt when he suddenly went white and then red, covered his mouth and made to hurl himself off the side of the bed. I let him go and he bolted for the en suite bathroom. I was actually surprised he made it through the door without falling over his feet given his state. I followed him in and held a cool, damp handtowel against his forehead while he cried and puked his guts up.

His skin was clammy and he was shaking. This time when I put him to bed I didn't have any trouble getting him to stay there and shut his eyes.

I went downstairs and rummaged in his cupboards until I found aspirin and a bucket. I left the aspirin on his bedside table with a glass of water and a box of tissues, left the bucket next to his bed on the floor.

By the time I left he was snoring gently. He'd probably be comatose until the next day.

Back at the station I went to my locker for my spare shirt.

"What happened to you?" Mac laughed. "Got puked on?" he asked.

"A little." I said because I couldn't really lie. "Mostly just cried on though."

"Weepy drunk?" he asked and I nodded. "Jeez. Makes a nice change from all the angry drunks we got. Who was it?"

"Keith." I answered. "The new guy from the city living on the north side of the park." Mac went quiet a minute.

"You know he's a fairy, right?" he asked. My blood boiled. Normally I'd have just laughed, joined in with whatever he said and ignored whatever I felt inside. Today I couldn't ignore it.

"Yeah. So?" I asked coldly. "You think that means I shouldn't treat him like a human being?" Mac looked taken aback.

"Naw, it's just-" I slammed my locker shut. "You know. You were..." I didn't want to listen to whatever else he had to say.

"And what?" I interrupted. "You think he's going to tie me to a chair and infect me with his gayness?" I asked in disgust.

"No, I-" Mac didn't look like he knew what he was going to say next, so I glared at him and headed back to my office.

His comments about Keith had made me lose the last of my hard on pretty quick. I worked efficiently for the rest of the day, refusing to chat or goof off.

But I couldn't help thinking about Keith's gorgeous thighs, the beautiful curves of his arse and the graceful line of his spine. I remembered holding his hair back and rubbing his shoulders, wanting to fuck him hard and fast, and bite that spot right there, hear him yell my name as I came inside him and he spurted against the sheets.

I went home early and took a long, cold shower.

It didn't matter. There I was watching tv and still all I could think about was Keith's blue-green eyes, dark with desire, as he told me he wanted to lick me all over.

I really really wanted that too.

Keith:

I woke up at some point with light streaming through the window and burning my eyes. It was a strong reminder to buy some curtains. Soon. I felt like a vampire whose skin was blistering in the sun right before he burst into flames. A zombie being blasted to pieces by some sort of laser beam. Some monster from deep space being melted upon exposure to a random substance that was non-harmful to humans. I felt like pure shit.

It took me a minute to figure out I was in bed in my underwear. Surely I hadn't had enough presence of mind not only to get up to bed but to also get undressed? I noticed the asprin and water then and something tugged at my memory. I certainly hadn't done that.

John had been here.

I groaned and buried my head under a pillow.

Great. Just great.

I wondered if I'd said anything. If I'd done anything. Fuck.

I'd probably told him about Graeme. My chest tightened and I wanted to cry again. How could he do this to me?

I'd known he was gone and he wasn't coming back, and I'd known he'd left me for a woman... I wasn't entirely sure why this hurt so much more.

I lay there feeling sorry for myself for a while, wallowing in self pity and keeping my eyes shut, enjoying the darkness and the silence that came from holding the pillow over my head.

When I roused myself I took two asprin with the water and got out of bed. I looked at the time and saw it was about noon. I'd probably slept for nearly 24 hours. I tripped over something on the floor. A bucket. It had a crack in it now, but a bucket meant I'd been sick.

I groaned at the thought of having to clean up my bathroom. All I wanted was hot coffee and sleep.

I shuffled into the en suite and found it clean. I nearly went to check the other rooms of the house to find out where I'd been sick, but I checked the laundry hamper and found a towel and a couple of cloths there.

Fuck. I hoped that didn't mean John had been here when I'd been sick. I hoped he hadn't been the one to clean up after me, but I couldn't think of anyone else who might have done it.

I carefully made my way downstairs so I didn't trip over anything else, kept my eyes half closed.

The kitchen stank of rum. What had I done- painted the place with it? Two empty bottles were standing next to the rubbish bin. Two whole bottles? I couldn't have drunk that much... could I? Well no wonder I felt this bad. I was a lightweight at the best of times.

I made coffee and sat at the table with it in my boxers and socks. By the time I finished my second cup I was starting to feel a bit better.

I went upstairs and showered, but rather than get dressed I pulled pyjama pants and a t shirt on. I was not going anywhere. Even gettingthatdressed was a huge effort.

I took a big glass of water into the lounge room and turned on the tv. Bad idea. The sound killed my head, and there was nothing on, anyway. I found a channel playing some movie in black and white and turned it to mute, lay down on the couch and waited for the world to end.

When someone knocked at the door I thought my head would split.

I slowly got up and shuffled over, opened the door to Sarah.

"Hey." She said gently. "You alright?" John had told her. I nodded and let her in.

"Coffee?" I asked. Knowing Sarah, she wouldn't be leaving in a hurry.

"Let me make them," she said, and I didn't argue.

"You okay, honey?" She asked when we were sitting on the couch again. The cup scalded my hands but I kept my fingers wrapped around it.

"I think so." I said softly and then cleared my throat. "John sent you?"

"Yeah." She agreed. "He said you were pretty upset." I nodded once, wished I hadn't. "Said he found you on the floor and put you to bed." Yeah, that'd be right. "You ok, honey?" She repeated.

I nodded again. Why did I keep nodding when I knew it was going to hurt so much?

"Was it about the breakup?" She asked softly.

"Yeah." I agreed quietly. She was watching me avidly. I had the feeling that she wouldn't tell anyone, even if she did talk too much. I felt like maybe I could tell her. It was the first time I felt like I could speak about it at all. I drew a deep breath. "He left me, you know. It wasn't like... it wasn't like I had any idea anything was wrong..."

Sarah nodded slowly, reached out and rested her hand on my shoulder.

"He told me he'd been cheating on me. 'Seeing someone else'. For three months." Her hand gripped my shoulder tighter. "And he told me he was leaving me. Forher. Everyone warned me, you know." I burst out with sudden vitriol. "They all warned me about dating a man who was bi. Bi guys have got a reputation for just screwing around until they find the woman they want to marry, but I never ever thought Grae would... I defended him to everyone, and after a while I didn't even think about it anymore. I just knew he wouldn't. Six years was such a long time. But he did... aftersix years... and he actually..."

"He's marrying her?" Sarah asked softly, but it was almost a statement. I nodded. Tears were winding their way down my nose now. I hadn't noticed them before.

"In six weeks. Onouranniversary. The announcement was in the paper. And he's been dating her for, what, not even six months? And he left me only six weeks ago. I just... I don't understand. Six years, and it's like it never happened. It's like it didn't mean anything. And... I loved him. He was supposed to love me. I thought- I thought he'd marry me, you know. I waited for him to ask the whole first few years. And then... I just thought maybe he wasn't into that. But apparently he is. Just not with me."

I had thought about us getting married; not in any legal sense, but just with our families and our friends. I'd never asked Graeme to marry me because I didn't think he'd like it if I did, given his hang ups. But I'd found a brochure from a really nice jeweller's in his suitcase. I'd found web pages for hotels in Paris in his browser history on his computer. So I'd assumed he was going to ask me, even if I hadn't really expected it after six years together. Instead he'd left me. For a woman who had no idea I even existed and probably had no clue her new fiancé had been more gay than bi for most of his adult life.

Sarah scooted closer and put her arm around me.

"You know that sometimes these things just happen. You can't always explain them."

"Yeah." I answered, my eyes stinging again. "It's just not fair. He didn't even have the guts to tell me first. He was already fucking her before he even told me- before he even left me. I don't understand how he could be such a prick... Apparently he just didn't care about me. Not at all. How could I not have seen that, though?"

"Oh, Keith."

I let Sarah put her arms around me and hold me close. I had barely touched anyone since Graeme and it was nice. It felt good.

By the time we finished talking some more I was still feeling hurt, but it was morphing into something else. Into anger. Hot spiky resentment.

It was almost actually a relief. I'd been getting tired of feeling broken.

Sarah stayed for a while. I refused to let her cook me anything, but she made me promise to eat. I had no plans of actually eating anything at all, despite what I'd said.

Instead I went to bed.

The next morning I felt human again. I still felt like shit, but at least it was a human kind of shit.

I showered and washed my hair and shaved and got dressed, drove carefully into town. I was pretty sure my blood alcohol level would be zero by now. If it wasn't, then I didn't think I would have survived.

I pulled in at the police station and took a moment in my car to gather my courage.

It was cool and dim inside. The man at the desk quickly took his feet off the desk when I approached.

"Hi." I said lamely. His nametag read McGuiness. "Is John around?" he nodded and pressed a button on his phone, then looked me up and down.

"You look like shit." He said.

"Feel that way." I admitted and he grinned. For some reason he looked like that answer appealed to him. John appeared in a doorway and looked surprised to see me. There was something else in his gaze.

Uh oh. What had I said to make him look at me like that?

"Keith." He said. I waited for him to ask me to come to his office, but he didn't. He just watched me. He was normally kind of reserved, but he seemed different today. I wondered if I could apologize for something I didn't remember or if that would make things worse.

"I, uh, just wanted to say thanks. For the other day. And I'm really sorry about being sick."

"You remember that, huh?" Something flickered in his eyes. Fear? He shot a quick glance at McGuiness.

"Nope." I said, and he half smiled, relaxed a bit.

"Why don't you come through?" he asked finally and I followed him through to his office. I didn't miss the way McGuiness watched me suspiciously. Nor did I miss the fact that John left the door open.

"Remember much?" he asked.

"No." I admitted. "Not until about lunchtime yesterday when I woke up. Figured I wouldn't have got water and asprin for myself. And cleaned up the bathroom. I sort of had this feeling you were there." Something in his eyes again. Fuck. What had I done? "How come you came to my house?"

"You walked out of Jim's without paying." He said shortly.

"Oh." I didn't remember paying, but I didn't remember not paying, either. But was a six or seven dollar debt really worthy of a house call? I looked at him funny and he went to explain.

"I saw him later on and he said you'd been upset so I came to check on you. Found you lying on your kitchen floor covered in rum. Wouldn't have picked you for a rum drinker."

"I'm not, really." I admitted. "I buy it because it means I'm less likely to drink it." He blinked at me and I sighed. "I probably told you about Graeme." I said and he nodded once. "I bought rum thinking that I wouldn't drink it unless things were bad, since it's not my drink of choice."

John nodded. "Makes a weird kind of sense, I guess."

"Yeah, but it didn't work."

"I don't know." John said slowly. "You achieved your objective pretty quickly." I must have looked blank. He sighed. "Drinking 'til you passed out." He filled in. I managed a weak smile and he looked at me critically. "You still don't look good." I nodded.

"Trust me, I know."

"You should get yourself over to Jim's. He does an awesome breakfast fry up any time of day."

"Yeah. Not sure I can go there, now." I admitted. John smiled.

"He doesn't mind. He was worried, is all. He knows how close you and his wife are." I blushed at that. So I joined the ladies' cooking group? I liked them and I was learning and having fun. And they were really sweet to me. "I'm serious." John said. "Get your arse over there. Jim'll tell me if you don't."

I nodded and sighed. I was starving since I hadn't eaten anything since that piece of cherry pie, so it did sound like a good idea.

"Sure." I agreed. John showed me out, told me he'd be telling the local shops not to sell me any alcohol.

McGuiness seemed to think that was funny. I most certainly did not.

I headed over to Jim's and waited at the counter. He appeared after a minute and gave me a broad smile.

"Keith- you alright?" He asked. I wished he hadn't.