you loved me and wanted to spend the rest of our lives together and you didn't care who knew it. But I feared it would go exactly as it has. I should have known. Any dreams I ever have only end up badly."
Scott shook his head, shrugging off Preston's hand from his arm. He walked to the door.
Preston followed. "Don't do this, Scotty. I don't want you to go. I want you to stay."
Scott's hand froze on the doorknob and he turned to face Preston. "Do you love me?"
Preston's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His mind fractured. Men didn't love men. Not romantically.
"Jesus, you should see your face right now. You look like you want to puke, Preston. You can't even make yourself say it. Because you don't. You don't love me and you never will. Sure, you like the sex, but so fucking what, huh? You can find some other sucker to be your dirty little secret and he probably won't demand anything else from you, like for you to give a shit about him."
Preston couldn't breathe. He wanted to tell Scott he was so wrong. He tried to speak, but emotion clogged his throat.
Tears streamed down Scotty's cheeks and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry, Preston. Really. I wish I could just hide the way I feel and be what you want me to be. I can't. Coming out was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I did it and my family and friends accept me and love me still. I can't go back. Not even for you."
Scott turned his back on him, opened the door and left Preston's house. His life.
Preston went to the closed door. "Scotty, please." His hand pressed to the front door, he wanted to go after him. Wanted to beg Scott to give him another chance. He'd try. He would. But he would be lying just to make the other man stay. He couldn't come out. Not ever.
He sunk to the floor with his back against the door, misery and loneliness hanging over him like a thick cloud.
* * * *
Scotty dropped to a crouch on Preston's front doorstep, burying his face in his hands. The tears flowed freely now.
He couldn't catch his breath. His chest hurt. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. Every part of him ached with near mind-numbing agony. He almost wished he would drop dead right there in front of Preston's house.
Maybe if he started the day over, he could avoid the conversation where Preston had forced him to end it. Refused to talk about it just as Preston had these last few weeks.
But he could dream and wish and hope forever. It would change nothing. It was over and he hated himself for caring so damn much.
He straightened and began walking. He made it to his car, but once inside he just sat there, leaning against the steering wheel letting the wracking sobs out. His vision was too blurred by tears to drive so he just let himself cry it out.
Somewhere in the back of his surely feeble mind he still hoped Preston would come running out from his house, taking what he'd said back. Telling Scotty he was sorry for thinking him abnormal. But no matter how hard he stared at the front door, it didn't happen.
"Fucking idiot," he yelled. "You're just a fucking idiot."
He'd done this. He'd allowed himself to ignore all the bothersome signs Preston had been giving him. Allowed the love he had already felt for Preston to deepen further. And now that it was over he had no one to blame but himself.
He was crying like a baby.
Finally exhausted from his tears, he rested his head against the steering wheel for several minutes more. He didn't know how long. Oddly his stomach gurgled, reminding him he'd never had the chance to eat the greasy fried chicken.
Scotty turned the key in the ignition, started the car, and drove away from the man he loved.
Chapter 9
----
Over the weekend Scotty had decided he would have to quit his job. There was no way he could face Preston every day. Not now. Maybe in another ten years when he'd somehow gotten over him and found a new man to love. Hopefully one who loved Scotty,
Scott shook his head, shrugging off Preston's hand from his arm. He walked to the door.
Preston followed. "Don't do this, Scotty. I don't want you to go. I want you to stay."
Scott's hand froze on the doorknob and he turned to face Preston. "Do you love me?"
Preston's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His mind fractured. Men didn't love men. Not romantically.
"Jesus, you should see your face right now. You look like you want to puke, Preston. You can't even make yourself say it. Because you don't. You don't love me and you never will. Sure, you like the sex, but so fucking what, huh? You can find some other sucker to be your dirty little secret and he probably won't demand anything else from you, like for you to give a shit about him."
Preston couldn't breathe. He wanted to tell Scott he was so wrong. He tried to speak, but emotion clogged his throat.
Tears streamed down Scotty's cheeks and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry, Preston. Really. I wish I could just hide the way I feel and be what you want me to be. I can't. Coming out was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I did it and my family and friends accept me and love me still. I can't go back. Not even for you."
Scott turned his back on him, opened the door and left Preston's house. His life.
Preston went to the closed door. "Scotty, please." His hand pressed to the front door, he wanted to go after him. Wanted to beg Scott to give him another chance. He'd try. He would. But he would be lying just to make the other man stay. He couldn't come out. Not ever.
He sunk to the floor with his back against the door, misery and loneliness hanging over him like a thick cloud.
* * * *
Scotty dropped to a crouch on Preston's front doorstep, burying his face in his hands. The tears flowed freely now.
He couldn't catch his breath. His chest hurt. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. Every part of him ached with near mind-numbing agony. He almost wished he would drop dead right there in front of Preston's house.
Maybe if he started the day over, he could avoid the conversation where Preston had forced him to end it. Refused to talk about it just as Preston had these last few weeks.
But he could dream and wish and hope forever. It would change nothing. It was over and he hated himself for caring so damn much.
He straightened and began walking. He made it to his car, but once inside he just sat there, leaning against the steering wheel letting the wracking sobs out. His vision was too blurred by tears to drive so he just let himself cry it out.
Somewhere in the back of his surely feeble mind he still hoped Preston would come running out from his house, taking what he'd said back. Telling Scotty he was sorry for thinking him abnormal. But no matter how hard he stared at the front door, it didn't happen.
"Fucking idiot," he yelled. "You're just a fucking idiot."
He'd done this. He'd allowed himself to ignore all the bothersome signs Preston had been giving him. Allowed the love he had already felt for Preston to deepen further. And now that it was over he had no one to blame but himself.
He was crying like a baby.
Finally exhausted from his tears, he rested his head against the steering wheel for several minutes more. He didn't know how long. Oddly his stomach gurgled, reminding him he'd never had the chance to eat the greasy fried chicken.
Scotty turned the key in the ignition, started the car, and drove away from the man he loved.
Chapter 9
----
Over the weekend Scotty had decided he would have to quit his job. There was no way he could face Preston every day. Not now. Maybe in another ten years when he'd somehow gotten over him and found a new man to love. Hopefully one who loved Scotty,
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