tagGay MaleU-N-I Ch. 21

U-N-I Ch. 21


The following story is entirely a work of fiction. The characters are not based on any particular celebrity but the story is about fictional characters, who are celebrities in the story. The music used in this story is music by the band Coldplay

Here it is, the final chapter. I hope you enjoy.


I woke up on my left side, my eyes not quite willing to open. I slowly rolled onto my back and realized Rob wasn't in bed anymore. I tried to concentrate to see if I could hear any sound coming from the living room but there was none, everything was completely quiet and dark. It was still the middle of the night. For a few minutes, I tried to go back to sleep, hoping Rob would soon join me in bed again ... but he didn't. I knew he had to be in the living room and I had woken up alone for way too long. I wanted him right next to me to snuggle up against him and go back to sleep. After a moment, I extended my arms in a full stretch and extracted myself from the bed to go look for him.

He was sitting on the couch, with headphones and a MacBook on his lap.

I walked closer to him and put my hands on his shoulders to massage them. He turned around, slightly startled and took his headphones off.

"Hey," he said softly. Then I jumped over the back of the couch and I plopped down next to him. I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around them.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked and watched the screen for a second. I saw he was using an audio editing software that I didn't like.

He shrugged lightly. "Just working on something I recorded with the vocal coach here."

I shook my head. "Il me rend dingue ce logiciel," I said in French.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Are we mumbling in French again?"

I yawned and let go of my knees. "On dirait bien, ouais," I replied in French, smiling.

"You're all gonna be stuck in the French accent when I get back, aren't you?" he joked because it was something we always had fun with when we were promoting in Paris.

"Maybe. Now that I'm gone, they're actually gonna have to start speaking to people," I joked.

He gazed at me and grinned. "My sexy French boy," he said as he let his eyes move up and down my body. I was still naked as the day I was born. "I don't know if it's because I haven't seen you in almost three months, but I swear you just keep getting hotter with age."

I smiled and shifted closer to him. "So do you," I responded, dropping my voice down to a low whisper.

I slowly slipped my hand under his tshirt, up to his now slightly hairy chest and ran my fingers over his pecs. "You're gorgeous," I murmured. "You look so good... I think I'm gonna walk around with a constant boner for the next few days."

He grinned seductively. "Yeah, I do look pretty good," he acknowledged and I looked at him with amusement. "I mean, I'd fuck me right now," he joked.

I laughed out loud. "Jeez. You're obsessed with yourself," I said playfully, teasing him.

He nodded. "You're gonna love the gym here!" he said.

"Oh yeah, why?"

"'Cause they... like ... give you massages and stuff..."

We paused for a short time and then I touched his cheek tenderly and placed a loving kiss on his cheek. Moving my mouth closer to his lips, I whispered, "I woke up all alone ... It's so good to have you back, I don't want to wake up without you anymore," I said softly.

"Sorry. I couldn't sleep," he whispered.

"Well, I don't know about you but I slept like shit for weeks. I hate sleeping without you. So,... can we go back to bed?... please?" I begged and placed another few kisses on his lips that he returned gently.

"I'm kinda restless," he answered.

I smiled wickedly, my hand now caressing his stomach. "We don't have to sleep. I can think of one thing we haven't done yet and that I'd love to do if we're not gonna be sleeping."

He let out a small chuckle but then his eyes left mine and he sighed softly. He closed his laptop and placed it on the couch beside him. I had expected another reaction from him and it made me feel apprehensive.

I studied the expression on his face. He was a bit lost in his own thoughts and clearly, he was debating whether or not he should say what was on his mind.

"You alright?" I asked with care.

His eyes met my gaze again. His lips formed a small reassuring smile and he nodded his head.

His hand made its way up from my hand, to my arm and then to the nape of my neck. He drew me closer to him and placed a kiss on my lips.

"Babe, I wanted you so bad earlier... so bad," he said with passion in his voice.

"So did I...," I murmured and couldn't help but part his lips with my tongue.

We kissed intensely for a moment and then he looked into my eyes. "I've waited too long to be able to feel like this again and I didn't want to ruin the moment. It was amazing and I've missed you so much."

I nodded my head softly and said, suspecting what was coming. "But?"

"...but we need to talk," he said. He sounded determined.

He slowly lowered his hand from my neck to my arm.

"Oh," I sighed and looked down a bit, feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Is it confession time?"

I looked up at him again and he held my gaze with a serious, somewhat apprehensive look on his face. "We can't avoid it forever. We shouldn't even have had sex."

I breathed out. I was getting worried. "Can't that wait till morning?"

I looked into his beautiful and expressive green eyes and got my answer.

"Alright," I sighed nervously. "I think I'm gonna put something on for this," I said.

I took his hand in mine. I began to stand up to walk over to my suitcase and only let go of his hand when I could no longer hold it.

'Shit' I thought to myself. Here we were. Everything was perfect, we were finally together and I felt so happy and fulfilled. I wanted that feeling to last a bit longer.

Why couldn't I have just stayed in bed? I didn't feel quite ready to talk now. It was three in the morning. I was jetlagged. We had just had amazing make up sex, and already, we were about to argue. I knew we were. It was unavoidable but it was the last thing I wanted to do with him at that moment. All I wanted was to snuggle up against him in bed and enjoy feeling his body and his skin against mine as I went back to sleep. I didn't want to have to deal with everything that had gone wrong in our relationship... not yet.

I opened my suitcase, slipped on a pair of joggers and walked back to the couch.

He had placed the laptop on the coffee table. He was sitting cross-legged and waiting for me.

I sat down next to him. He was looking down at his fingernails and for a moment, neither of us said anything. Although he had been the one to say that we needed to talk, he seemed extremely reluctant to start the conversation.

He finally glanced up at me and the apprehensive look on his face got me worried. My eyebrows narrowed and after a few seconds of awkward silence, I asked hesitantly,

"What'd you do?"

Although he hadn't really admitted that he had cheating on me when we had talked about it on the phone, I knew he had done something that he was scared of telling me. I wasn't too worried but as I watched the expression on his face, I realized that I hadn't considered the fact that he might have done something that I'd find utterly unforgivable... but maybe he had. The thought made my heart beat faster, and I suddenly felt a tidal wave of anxiety and jealousy washing over me... what if he had...

"You didn't...," I stammered. He saw my anxiety. He knew what I was thinking.

He shook his head reassuringly, "No, no, of course not."

"Oh," I breathed. I didn't know what he had done but I was somewhat relieved that he hadn't gone as far as to get fucked by another guy. I had decided that no matter how difficult it'd be, I'd forgive him if he had cheated on me... but that... It was where we had always drawn the line. As much as we enjoyed bottoming with each other, we were both more tops than we were bottoms, which was why we were versatile, so it was something we had never even considered doing the few times we had had a threesome. Sure, we enjoyed broadening our horizons by playing with other guys but for some reason, bottoming had never been a part of it. I couldn't imagine him actually doing that with someone other than me, I just couldn't... I mean, his ass was fucking mine!

"Then what?" I asked, watching him. "You fucked some guy, didn't you?" I asked anxiously, hoping he hadn't, but knowing that if he found it so difficult to confess, then it had to be it.

He bit his lower lip, unwilling to look at me at first. After a few seconds, his eyes met mine, he was about to say it, I knew, but he didn't have to. I sort of saw it in his eyes.

It hit me. I gasped and stared at him.

""You fucked Sam?" I exclaimed.

He narrowed his eyebrows and winced, "Just to break the ice," he said kind of jokingly, but knowing it wasn't something I'd take lightly.

My mouth dropped open and I let out a huff, stunned.

"You're bullshitting me!" I exclaimed. I realized at that instant that I could have guessed it sooner, but as I stared intensely at him, I was having a hard time believing that he had had sex with him.

He slowly shook his head no, no longer trying to pretend that it was unimportant.

I frowned. I searched for something to say but just came up with more questions. My eyes were begging for answers and my tone of voice was angrier.

"Are you serious? For fuck's sake, you fucked him?"

He took a deep breath and began explaining himself.

"The first week I was here, I went to a dinner party with Claire.... and he was there. But it was so boring that he suggested going to a gay club..."

He paused. "You fucked him in the club?" I exclaimed immediately, pretty sure that he had.

He pursed his lips. He looked uneasy. "Well, he was drunk, and he came on to me..."

I let out a dumbfounded chuckle.

"I'm not using that as an excuse. I'm not gonna insult you by giving you excuses. It shouldn't have happened, and I shouldn't have let it happen."

I rolled my eyes at him. I tried not to get too upset because it wasn't as if I had been a saint myself, but at that moment, I wasn't really thinking about what I had done.

Although, I could understand why he would let something like this happen, I was hurt and upset that he had cheated on me with him and I was overwhelmed with feelings of jealousy and worry.

I shook my head. "So, let me get this right," I said, staring at him. "I make you come to this place so you can work out your problems... our problems! And the first thing you do when you get here is to go gay clubbing and fuck another guy."

He couldn't hold my stare so he looked away slightly. He placed his elbow on the back of the couch and bit his finger nail. "Yeah, that sounds bad," he said with a slight nod.

"Do you think?" I said in a sarcastic tone.

I shook my head, dumbfounded. "And then you go and write music with him...for me?"

"Yeah, I did do that....," he acknowledged.

"I can't believe you," I said and stood up. I felt like I needed to move away from him.

After a few seconds, he said, "Mark, it was just meaningless sex. You were all I could think about."

I turned back around to face him. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He didn't answer.

"Jeez...when you said he was really helpful, I didn't think that was what you meant...," I said, my voice breaking with a mix of disappointment and jealousy.

He shook his head apologetically. "It was stupid. We agreed to, like, never mention it again. It didn't mean anything, we both felt bad about it afterwards ... But, we talked a lot. We both went through the same shit, and he did help me to figure out my own head."

"Yeah," I nodded and exhaled. "I wanted to thank him, but now, I'm not sure what to do!"

I began pacing around. He didn't speak more. He just waited and glanced up at me from time to time. He wanted a reaction from me and he was going to get one. I was boiling inside.

He could see how hurt I was and he knew why. Sam wasn't just some guy I didn't know and that I'd never have to see again. Not that it would have hurt less... but he was someone I may have to see and talk to in the future. He was someone he liked. He had spent time with him, confided in him and written music with him...

"Talk to me," he said. "Please, just say something." The worry and tension in his voice was palpable.

"Damn, you keep saying that you don't want to hurt me, but you failed again ... 'cause it hurts, hurts like a motherfucker!"

He stayed quiet. He didn't want to aggravate me worse.

After a few moments, I put my hands in my pockets and stood still.

"So, tell me why?" I asked and he looked up at me, his eyes full of regret. "Why did you have sex with him?" I asked softly.

He breathed out and gave a slight shrug. His eyes shifted away from mine. "I don't know. I must have a compulsive need to wreck everything."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "Yeah, let's not bring David Bowie into this."

He half-smiled because I had noticed instantly that he had quoted him.

Then he stared at me nervously. "I told you, he came on to me..."

I stared back. "That's bullshit," I snapped at him.

"That's the truth," he just answered on the defensive.

"No it's not," I said with anger. "Guys hit on you all the time. You could cheat on me every day of the week if you wanted to!"

He stared into space and blinked.

"So why?" I said louder, getting more upset. "Why this time? Why with him?" I asked, my voice getting choked up.

I couldn't believe that I was doing this ... but I was.

I didn't want to argue with him, not now ... and yet, there I was, forcing him to get everything off his chest, everything he was truly mad at me about.

He hesitated. We both knew it was the start of the biggest argument we'd ever had and there was no more avoiding it now.

Our eyes locked for a few seconds and then he said, "'Cause he was there."

I nodded, hurt by his admission.

"He was there, and you weren't," he said with sadness in his voice.

"So, that's my fault," I said calmly. It wasn't like his response was totally uncalled for.

"No... but I was missing you, and I was sad. He was sweet, and fun, and he cared about me. He made me forget about everything for a while...."

I frowned. "He made you forget that you had a boyfriend?"

"You weren't there," he repeated with resentment. "You fucking left," he said louder. He was getting upset too. "He sure as hell didn't make me forget about that."

"I had to leave." I said, my eyes not leaving his.

"Says who? Tom? Dylan? Don't you think you know me better than they do? I didn't need you to leave."

"Yes, you did. You needed me to call you out on your bullshit, because no one else but me could do that for you. You were under too much stress and you needed time away from everything."

"I didn't need time away from you," he said and stood up as well. "I'm not sure you can say the same though," he added dejectedly. "I didn't need you to leave. Actually, all I really needed you to do, was to stay," he said sadly, tears breaching his eyes.

I could feel myself welling up too so I took a deep breath to try and stay in control of my emotions, although the feeling was pretty powerful and difficult to stop.

"Fuck, Rob, I did what needed to be done to protect you and everything that we've built together, what's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I guess," he said in a whisper, a couple of tears rolling down his face that he wiped off

I knew too well where this argument was going and I didn't like it. Fuck, I really didn't want to do this.

"Rob, I love you." I said wholeheartedly.

He nodded his head, casting his eyes down. After a pause, he spoke, "I know you do."

Then he looked up and locked eyes with me.

"But you doubted it."

I avoided eye contact and sighed for a brief second and then I said straightforwardly, still trying hard to hold back my tears despite seeing the heartache in his eyes. "You made me doubt it."

I could feel myself getting mad at him again for not spending any time with me, but I knew it was unnecessary to bring it up yet again because the real source of our problems lied elsewhere. I didn't want to be the one to say it though.

"You were never there," I continued. "I had to take a fucking appointment to spend some time with you!" I said with resentment.

"I was only doing our job," he retorted.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "Our job is to write music together, promote it and play it live. That's it. That's our job! You... you were doing everything but that. You were just a bad headline waiting to happen!"

"Oh my god, I've apologized a million times," he complained, throwing his arms up in the air.

"yeah, and I told you, it's in the past. I've already forgiven you. You're the one who thinks..."

I paused mid sentence and shook my head with a loud sigh. Fuck, I just didn't want to go there. I was too worried about the consequences it might have. I didn't want us to argue to the point that we'd need to spend some more time apart.

"Why did you neglect the band so much?" I asked him calmly.

He shrugged. "I don't know... because you were..." he began saying, "...focused on delivering the album on time, and I just wasn't...I just wasn't into it. There was too much going on, at the same time, and I was just so sick of everything... I didn't want to do it anymore, not so soon. 'Cause it meant throwing ourselves into the promotion again and maybe that's not how I wanted us to spend time together."

I collected my thoughts for a few seconds.

"Is that what you think? That I devoted too much time to the band."

"Yeah, you did," he confirmed.

"And why did that become an issue?" I asked, though I knew why. I thought I knew what he had told Rachel and that she had refused to tell me. "The band's always come first," I added.

He said nothing. He was upset and he was trying as hard as I was to get back in control of his emotions. He knew why I had asked him that question but he was just as afraid as I was to say it.

"Rob, why did you do coke when you knew it was the one thing that I wouldn't tolerate?"

Again, he didn't give me an answer.

"Alright, then answer me this... Why did you need me to stay?" I asked, unable to hold back my tears anymore. That was my last attempt at making him say out loud what had really driven him to behave the way he had.

"I think you know why," he responded.

I stared at him and shook my head slightly.

"Fuck, I hate that you're thinking this," I sighed deeply as I wiped tears from my eyes and sniffed.

"Thinking what," he said. It wasn't a question.

"That...," I began saying reluctantly. "That the band is what holds us together."

He looked down and swallowed hard.

"That if it weren't for the band, we might not be together anymore, that I'd have moved on to someone else."

Well, there you go... I had been the one to say it out loud and there was no taking it back. I regretted it almost instantly, but it had to come out.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply. "Rob. The band is not what holds us together," I began saying, and then paused. "And even if it is... that's not a bad thing. It just makes our relationship that much stronger. It forces us to fight for it more."

"Yes, it does," he responded, locking eyes with me. "...But I'd rather not have to fight for it," he said straightforwardly.

His tone of voice made me ache and I let out a sad sigh. I stared into his watery eyes and felt a compelling need to reassure him.

I stepped closer to him. I grasped his face between my hands and pulled him close to me. Pressing our foreheads together, I said, "please, don't think that I stay with you because of the band. I stay with you because I love you ... No matter what you do."

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