Whiteboi goes to Harlem Pt. 12

Leroy and Tyrone lived in the same building, and Leroy knew exactly where Tyrone's crib was. It was like his second home; he'd been there hundreds of times. Sure, he could've gone upstairs to the 16th floor at any time since Saturday afternoon's emotional meltdown, but he didn't want to invade Tyrone's space until his bro was ready to talk. He'd peppered him with text messages but hadn't received a response, so he kept his distance, letting Tyrone lick his mysterious, unknown wounds. He knew how moody Tyrone could be when something was upsetting him, and he'd learned that at times like these, it was best to leave him alone until he was ready to re-engage. He hoped he'd eventually get a response to one of his messages, but at the moment, that didn't seem likely.

But just now, after talking with whiteboi, something deep inside Leroy finally snapped. Fuck it. Fuck this bullshit. If Tyrone had lost his mind over the fact Leroy had checked out a gloryhole, something was wrong, and it was time to make it right. Friendships don't end over things as petty as this.

He collected his keys, wallet and phone, left his apartment, and caught the elevator to the top floor. He knocked on Tyrone's door. He half-expected a booming 'who da fuck?' before the door opened, and possibly a loaded gun waved in his face.

Tyrone opened his door quietly. "Hey, Leroy," he said. He was wearing his Bulls cap. His dreads cascaded down behind it. His pierced nipples poked through the fabric of his tight black singlet.

Leroy leaned forward. "Listen, bruh, I know it's late, but we need to rap 'bout some shit." He glanced at Tyrone's bulging biceps.

Tyrone threw his apartment door open in a gesture of passive invitation. He knew Leroy was right. They needed to talk at some point, but he knew it'd be an awkward, uncomfortable conversation, and while he wasn't sure if he was ready for it yet, he knew it wasn't wise to keep pushing Leroy away.

Leroy stepped into a room where he'd often felt completely at ease, almost like it was a second home of his own. But tonight, he felt tense, like he was intruding.

Tyrone wordlessly gestured for Leroy to take a seat. He noticed his homie's juicy, fat, plump lips, and his strong, muscly forearms. Leroy sat in an armchair while Tyrone sat on his couch, spreading his manly thighs wide. They sat facing each other, neither knowing what to say to get the conversation going. They each felt anxious. The tension that existed between them was completely unnatural, yet neither of them knew how to put it right.

Tyrone was grateful that Leroy had held out the olive branch. They didn't fall out often, but whenever they did, Leroy was always the one to make the first move. This was how it always went down.

"You want something to drink?" the host offered.

Leroy instinctively shook his head, though he desperately could've used a tall glass of water. His mouth was dry with nerves, and he licked his lips anxiously. "Nah. I'm coo'."

They sat quietly for a while before Leroy broke the silence. He leaned forward, looking at the floor. "Seriously, what the fuck is happenin' to us, brother?" He exhaled. "This some fuckin' bullshit."

Tyrone hung his head. He knew his response to Mitch's gloryhole story was a complete over-reaction. He knew it had the potential to destroy the friendship of a lifetime. He wanted to make it right, but he didn't know how. Emotionally, he felt paralysed.

Ty's hands were clasped in his lap, perhaps in a form of silent prayer. He studied them intensely. "I'm... I'm fuckin' sorry, Lee." He took a deep breath, and Leroy watched his shoulders and chest rise and fall. "I'm really sorry, my bruh. Sometimes... sometimes I can be my own worst enemy. I shouldn't have done what I done. I treated you so fuckin' bad." He paused again, collecting his thoughts, and Leroy gave him the space and time he needed. "Dude, fuck, maybe I need to see a headshrink or somethin'. Like, sometimes I just don't fuckin' unnerstand myself. I mean, I don't blame you fo' leavin' on Saturday, and I know you' been textin' me lately and I ain't responded, but it ain't because I'm ignorin' you, it's that I don't fuckin' know what to say to you. Erry single message you sent me, I read, and I wanted to reply, but for some unknown fucked-up reason, I just couldn't make myself do it." He pounded a fist into his palm in frustration with himself. "It ain't right for me to blow you off like that."

"That's coo'," soothed Leroy. He spoke quietly. "I get it. Matter of fact, that's why I knocked on yo' door."

Tyrone desperately tried to put his thoughts in order. "Whiteboi tol' me he sucked yo' dick through a gloryhole not too long ago. He said this to me jus' befo' you arrived at the bar. At firs', I didn't believe him. I thought he was full o' shit, just tryna crack a joke or some shit, but the look on his face was genuine. And so here's me thinkin', me and Lee been tight as fuck ever since when we popped wet and screamin' outta our momma's pussies, and I couldn't work out why I was findin' out shit about my homeboy's life from the fuckin' whiteboi."

Leroy looked up from the floor, his defiant eyes full of raw truth. "I ain't never been to a gloryhole befo' in my goddamn life befo' that day, Ty. That was the first time I' ever been."

Tyrone clapped his thighs in agreement. "That's exactly what I couldn't unnerstand, dude. You get so much pussy in Harlem, so like what the fuck you doin' getting yo' dick sucked by an anonymous mouf in another part of town. I would've thought if you were doin' this on the reg'lar you would've mentioned it at some point, so that's why it was such a fuckin' surprise to hear this fuckin' wack-ass shit comin' out o' whiteboi's mouf."

"I ain't got no mofuckin' secrets from you," Leroy began, "and I was gonna tell you all 'bout it that night, but I was gon' wait for us to get a li'l drunk. I thought it'd be a cool-ass story, tellin' you 'bout me stickin' my dick through a hole in a wall, but I had no fuckin' idea it was fuckin' whiteboi was on the other side of the wall that day until like ten fuckin' minutes ago jus' now when he tol' me all 'bout it on the phone, so yeah, that part was a surprise to me. I'm guessin' he tol' you on Saturday jus' befo' I showed up, but I didn't know. I had no fuckin' idea what you was upset about until whiteboi jus' tol' me jus' now. I seriously thought I be fuckin' a skanky ho's face that day, and there weren't nothin' to suggest it was a dude's mouf on the other side of the wall."

Tyrone nodded, absorbing and believing every single word Leroy said.

"Jus' stop an' think about this fo' a second." Leroy mused. "Think about the sequence of events. Imagine if we settled in that night, we had a few drinks and I tol' you that I fucked some ho's face at a bookstore, and *then* whiteboi says 'oh shit, Leroy, fuck, was that you that day, 'cuz I thought that was yo' dick', imagine how funny that would've been."

Tyrone nodded and his shoulders sagged as the tension slipped away. He knew it was true.

Leroy took a breath. "So anyway, here's what happened. And this is what I was gon' tell you that night. I was in Chelsea that afternoon because I got a cousin from Virginia who's up in the city on a break from college. We ain't seen each other for a few years, and she wanted to hook up for a drink. Las' time I saw her, she was prolly about 16 and she was as curvy as a black matchstick. If she turn' sideways in a police line-up, the cops wouldn't see her no more. But, dude, she' fuckin' developed outta sight since las' time I laid eyes on her. She' fuckin' fine, you unnerstand? Like, she be fuckin' stacked. Fuck knows what she' doin' wastin' her time in college when she could make some coin in porn. She' stayin' at a hotel on 20th street or thereabouts, so I went downtown to meet up wit' her. We went out for some drinks, and she caught me starin' down her cleavage more 'n once. She had to leave after a few drinks to meet up wit' someone else, but she got me all fuckin' horned up. I walked back towards the subway thinkin' I'd jack off when I got home, but I noticed there was an adult bookstore on the block ahead. Nex' thing, my dick's stuck through a hole in the wall thinkin' 'bout nuttin' all over my cousin's fat titties."

Tyrone listened in silence before responding. "I feel so fuckin' bad, Lee. I just get so wound up in myself sometimes. I don't ever need to know absolutely errythin' about yo' life, same as I assume you don' need to know errythin' 'bout mine, but for a second, I wondered if you was hidin' somethin' from me."

Leroy laughed. "Picture the scene. Homie meets long-lost cousin. Homie surprised by how fuckin' well-constructed she is. Homie ogles cousin's sweet fat-ass titties. In desperation, homie dives into an adult bookstore and floods an anonymous mouf'. Fuck, dude, if I was a stand-up comedian, I'd be on a stage right now tellin' fuckin' erryone 'bout it, and the crowd'd be rollin' in the fuckin' aisles. Why the fuck would I keep it from you?"

Tyrone smiled, knowing his boy could easily turn a story like that into a hilarious tale. "I don't know," he replied, "but I'm lookin' forward to yo' Netflix special."

"Fuck, dude, nex' time Olivia's in town, I'm gonna innroduce you to her. She' gon' like you. We talked a little about sex, and she tol' me how much she' into muscled-up dudes wit' dreads. And she' gon' fuckin' love yo' huge dick, too."

Tyrone held his palm up for a high-five, and Leroy grinned as he slapped it.

All the tension in Leroy's body had dissipated. "Dude's gonna fuckin' die of thirst soon. What kind o' shitty host are you, anyway? Get yo' guest a fuckin' beer before he passes out."

Tyrone felt happy. He stood up, grabbed his bruh by the shoulders in a gesture of friendship and reconciliation before walking to the kitchen. He pulled two cold Buds out of the refrigerator and flipped their tops off. Sure, it was late on a weeknight, but neither of these thugs had an office job to be at in the morning. He sat back down and the two of them drank heartily.

They talked about inane bullshit for an hour, just like old times, and Ty probed a little more about Leroy's cousin. They were onto their third beer each.

"So, dude, I' been thinkin'," said Leroy, placing his bottle of beer on a coaster. He burped.

"Yeah?" Tyrone removed his Bulls cap and ran a hand through his dreads.

"Been thinkin'. 'Bout us," Leroy continued. "But wait a second, I need to take a piss firs'."

Tyrone sat quietly on the couch as Leroy pissed with the bathroom door open. He listened as Leroy's bladder noisily emptied itself into the bowl.

Leroy flushed, zipped up, washed his hands, and returned to the living room. He sat next to Tyrone on the couch at the opposite end. There was more than enough room for each of them.

"You was gonna say somethin," Tyrone prompted. He stretched out his legs and opened his thighs to make room for his extra-large cock.

Leroy took a slug of beer, emptying the bottle. "Wait here. Gonna get another one." He stood up, and Tyrone indicated that he was nearly empty too.

Leroy returned from the kitchen with two fresh, cold beers. He sat back down with a flop. "So, we' known each other since we was in diapers," he said.

"Almost," Tyrone agreed, "but I can't remember back that far."

Leroy let the lack of historical record slide. "We tell each other errythin'," he said.

Tyrone smiled. "Eventually, we do." He noticed a shocked expression on Leroy's face, as if the explanation he'd just given him about the gloryhole didn't land. "Nah, nah, nah, dude, yeah, o' course we do, o' course we do. I jus' be foolin' wit' you right now."

Leroy settled back down again but remained silent.

Tyrone sighed. "OK. We tell each other errythin', and there's somethin' I' been meanin' to tell you, but I wasn't sure how to say it."

Leroy waited.

"I... I can't even explain it to myself, dude, 'cuz I ain't gay, but I think I got some feelings for whiteboi."

Leroy waited some more, hoping Tyrone would keep talking.

"I jus'... I mean... he' pretty cute, I gotta say..."

"He' got a sweet his mouth and pussy," said Leroy, "but I don' know what you mean... you sayin' you wanna fuckin' move in wit' him or somethin'?"

Tyrone shook his head. "Nah, nah, nothin' like that. But you're right, he' got some sweet fuckin' holes."

Leroy countered. "But you' got access to erry fuckin' hole there is this side of the park!" He leaned a little closer before taking a deep slug of beer. "Holes ain't love, bruh. Holes ain't love."

Tyrone shrugged. "I know... you' right... but there's somethin' missin' in here," he said, pointing to his chest. "It's like I'm a jigsaw puzzle, and I' been workin' hard to finish it, but I get to the end and there's still one piece missin'. I shake the box upside down, I look under the couch, but I can't find it."

Leroy scooted a little closer on the couch. "I feel the same way."

Tyrone sensed competition, and his eyes widened a little as he misinterpreted Leroy's response. "Wait, you' tellin' me you got a thing for whiteboi, too?"

Leroy shook his head. "I' got some strong feelings fo' sure, but they ain't for him. Why the fuck you think I'm sittin' on yo' couch right now at bullshit o'clock if I ain't got feelings." He paused for a second. "I' been missin' that last piece o' the jigsaw puzzle too."

It took a few seconds for the meaning of Leroy's statement to hit home. "Wait a second," Tyrone replied, backing away mentally. "No, dude. That's... not what I meant."

"So wait, jus' sit yo'self still for a second, an' lemme tell you what's been on my mind these past few days," Leroy began. "You an' me are more than homeboys. We' be like fuckin' soulmates. I feel like I be inseparable to you. I' been frettin' so bad 'bout you these past few nights and days. You ain't got no idea what las' weekend fuckin' did to me. I ain't been sleepin' right, and it feels like somethin' seriously fuckin' important in my life has disappeared, and I needs to get it back. You's what I' been missin'. My life don' make no fuckin' sense without you in it, bruh. And I needs to be fuckin' goddamn walls-down honest wit' you right now, in a way I ain't never been honest wit' you before. If we gon' keep tellin' each other errythin', if we' gon' keep no secrets from each other, then I need to tell you somethin'."

Leroy felt nervous. He braced himself as he prepared to say the words that would make or break the rest of his life.

"I fuckin' love you, my sweet, sweet bro. Like, I mean, I know we' tight, but fuck, dude, these past few days have made me realise just how fuckin' much I love you, and it's scary. Like, if you died, I'd prolly jump in the casket wit' you, because I'd rather be buried alive nex' to you than watch your funeral. Dude, I ain't gay either, but I'm so fuckin' into you it stabs like a hot fuckin' dagger in my heart when you ain't around."

They each heard the muffled sounds of Harlem rippling up through Tyrone's windows, but the only sound in the room was two men breathing.

Tyrone looked and felt intensely uncomfortable. "Fuck, dude. That's a lot for me to take in."

Looking back, Leroy realised he'd felt this way for a long time, but he'd never found the courage or felt the emotional desperation to say the words he needed to say until right now. He desperately wanted to know his feelings were reciprocated in some way. "I mean, ain't you been missin' me lately too, my bruh?"

Tyrone couldn't deny it. He nodded, then whispered his anxious response. "Yeah. 'Course I have. But I' been missin' my brother, and not... not... somethin' else." He exhaled heavily. "We can't be havin' this conversation right now. You ain't never said nothin' like that to me befo' and I'm surprised as fuck."

Leroy waited for a second, barely breathing. "I thought we didn't keep secrets from each other. I thought we tol' each other errythin'. I mean, ain't I right 'bout that?" He sipped his beer; right now, his mouth felt as dry as the Sahara desert. "Ain't that what we' both jus' fuckin' been through with whiteboi's shit? You' been so upset 'bout that gloryhole story, thinkin' I' be keepin' shit from you? Well, I ain't keepin' my shit from you no more. I fuckin' love you, bro. And I think if you look deep enough inside yo'self, you'll..."

Leroy didn't finish his sentence, because everything about Tyrone's body language was all wrong. Without using any words, it was as if Tyrone was pleading with him to stop.

Leroy got the message. The pain in his heart was indescribable. "You... you wan' me to leave?"

Tyrone had missed his bro like he'd missed a limb, but he needed time and space to process what Leroy had just said. Their previous friendship, as Tyrone knew it, was over now. It isn't possible for someone to tell a close friend they love them, especially not the way Leroy just did, and for everyone to pretend that nothing had changed.

He didn't answer Leroy's question directly. Instead, he stood up, faked a yawn, checked his watch and dismissed everything Leroy had said. "Been coo' chillin' wit' you 'gain, Lee, but yeah, I might need to hit the sack."

Leroy couldn't make any sense out of this, but he knew he was politely being asked to leave. "Befo' I go, I jus' need to ask you this. Fi' minutes ago, you' be tellin' me you got feelins for the fuckin' whiteboi," he spat, "but after what I jus' said, you ain't got no feelins for me?"

Tyrone stood motionless in the middle of his living room. "I don't fuckin' know what I feel anymore," he whispered.

Softly, Leroy closed the door behind him. He pressed the button for the elevator and stepped inside. His head was spinning. He walked out into the 10th floor corridor and let himself back into his apartment. He could barely believe what had just happened. Five minutes ago, he was up in Ty's crib, drinking beer, kicking back, talking shit, just like old times. For a few beautiful moments, it felt like everything was cool again, but it obviously wasn't.

They both knew their friendship had changed forever.

A whirlwind of bitter, melancholy emotions swirled up inside Leroy, but he couldn't make sense of any of them. He felt like he'd given everything he had over the past few days to try to make sense of Tyrone's behaviour and to reconnect with him, and while he felt the anxiety and tension drift away while he sat on his bro's couch, it had all flooded back again.

He felt rejected. He felt like he'd pulled his beating heart out of his chest to give to the person that meant the most to him in the whole world, only to have him yawn in response.

He wondered what might've happened if he didn't say anything about how he felt. Sure, they'd still be drinking and talking shit, but Leroy knew his heart couldn't be contained anymore. If only Tyrone didn't say anything about having feelings for whiteboi: that was the thread of conversation that dragged Leroy's confession out.

He sat on his couch and stared at the walls.

His tank was empty. He'd given everything he had, and there was nothing left.

He cursed his mouth and his heart. They'd combined to cost him the friendship that defined his life.

He knew they couldn't be friends anymore after this. Not like they once were.

He and Tyrone shared a building. They'd pass each other in the lobby from time to time. They might even share an occasional elevator ride. He had no idea how he'd feel sharing space with his lifelong friend after what he'd just said, and after the reaction he'd received.

He took a chilled bottle of vodka out of his freezer and poured way too much of it into a glass. He wanted to turn his emotions off. He wanted to feel numb.

He drank it straight. It burned on the way down. He refilled his glass.

*

Mitch slept restlessly last night. He closed his eyes, prayed for sleep and hoped for forgiveness, feeling almost certain he'd made a bad situation much worse. He rose for work on Thursday morning, not knowing anything about what happened after Leroy ended their call.