Loving Sam Lynch - 8. Chapter 8

Loving Sam Lynch

Sam awoke to darkness.

The alarm clock read three AM in glowing red letters, as if announcing the degrading health of his sleep. He’d tried, he really had, but to no avail.

Three hours was enough, especially after the eventful evening he’d had yesterday. His conversation with max, seeing him and Xander…it had all left him especially confused. Emotions and thoughts he’d pushed aside for ages had come swarming out at the first sign of a crack. He’d been forced to acknowledge the unorthodoxy of his friendship with Sam, and, ultimately accept Max’s feelings for him.

Sam had thought long and hard, and then harder, longer. He’d paced, drank, teared up a little, and fallen into bed with the sweetly acidic voice of Thom Yorke echoing through his ears. His body hurt for some reason. They ached, the joints, and felt creaky like some old used up trolley.

And every time he closed his eyes and thought of being there in the capacity Max wanted him, it killed him a little. He couldn’t be that guy. He couldn’t be what Max thought he wanted. He loved Max like he hadn’t ever loved another person. He didn’t even understand it sometimes. And he’d given up long ago. He no longer tried to analyze it, forget trying to explain it to another person.

They weren’t your run of the mill feelings. They were complicated, tied in with friendship, youth, and just pure love of a person. And Sam never wanted that gone from his life. Ever. So, while the thought of Max with someone undeserving of him, or anyone at all for that matter, really enraged him, made him jealous, because a part of him had been Max’s everything and that part always wanted to consume Max, another part knew that they could never be right for each other.

Every time he closed his eyes and thought of the future, Max was there in some way, always, but so was his desire to feel intensely for a woman. To love, to hold, to belong to and have for his very own, his lover—soft, someone who understood him like Max , someone he could share his life with. And it hurt because in a way he knew what he wanted would no doubt change his relationship with Max in ways. They would always have this affinity for one another, however, and he wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that.

So he’d accepted that Max should be with others, should let himself be held, be loved , instead of holding back from everyone in the way he was doing. Max had to push himself out there. He had to live, and see for himself what he wanted, what he needed for his life. Because Sam knew that while he was a part of that future, he wasn’t that future itself. He couldn’t be Max’s reason for living.

Max had to learn to live for himself.

And it hurt to think he’d made his precious Max this way. This wilted flower in a sense. He hated it.

Sam got up and watched the sun rise slowly in the horizon. It was an age old thing that humans had been doing for millennia, watching the sun appear gently in the distance. It was something constant, something stable for at least a few billion years, and that…well that was almost forever.

~*~

Max stared at the droplet like pieces of plaster on his ceiling, counting the numerous in just the little patch of ceiling highlighted by early morning sunlight invading his room through the cracks in the blinds. The room was still dark for the most part, still pleasant. He wanted to both shut the blinds and bury himself in the cool of darkness and fling them open to let his skin burn in its beaming, life-giving light.

The sound of steady breathing suddenly made his head turn, and his eyes caught sight of half a face buried into a dark pillow. A shock of auburn-red hair and creamy skin made up the rest of what he could see. Anything else was buried in a torrent of sheets.

How easy would it be to just lose himself in another person? To just forget his fucked up ways…but for how long? And then what? Max sighed and got up from bed, crossing to the window, he hesitated for a bit.

The radio alarm clock now on the other side of the room from him went off—and the cheery words of “Good morning starshine…the Earth says hello…” came dancing from the device. Max gave into temptation and reached out, raising the blinds till the sunlight poured in. “You twinkle above us, we twinkle below…” The sexy voice continued.

“You up?” A sleepy voice asked, evidently disturbed by the rays.

Max turned. “Uh, yeah,” He replied, scratching his arm.

“Come to bed,” Xander suggested, waggling his brows.

Max fidgeted with the fabric of his boxers. “I should take a shower…”

“I’ll join you--.”

“No its okay—.” Max began, but Xander was up in one jerky motion and smiling like his usual self.

Max wanted to be alone. He really, really wanted to be alone. In fact, the last person he wanted to see at the moment was Xander. One reason: he’d spent the whole night agonizing over what he should do about Xander, and over whether he should bother letting anyone getting close to him. He wouldn’t say Sam’s visit hadn’t left him in a reflective and thoughtful mood, because it had. Max didn’t like the fact that every possible future he’d envisioned last night had involved cutting Xander off before he got in too deep and got too hurt. It made Max feel so lonely in a way.

“Hey what’s wrong?” Xander frowned, coming up to Max and tugging on his arm, pulling him against his warm and pale chest. Max closed his eyes and let himself be held. He felt so fucking pathetic and weak. He felt like crying, and that was even worse. Dammit. What was wrong with him?

Max shook his head against Xander’s neck. “Nothing,” He mumbled.

“You sure?”

Max thought about telling Xander how he felt, but Xander would try to convince him he wasn’t selfish, that he should give him a chance. But sometimes…sometimes you have to hurt people for their own good if you love them. All Max could see in the future was bleakness, loneliness. He couldn’t be what Xander wanted. And Xander was good for him, but that was selfish. Xander deserved better.

Sam’s face flashed in his mind. Max shoved it aside. He’d been doing that all night—refusing to think about Sam. When he thought about Sam, he got all weird. Fucked up. His brain did this whole hopeless thing where it came up with visions upon visions of them together happily—miraculously, and then it came up with visions and visions of black haired babies that called him Uncle Max, while he lay in the background…a shadow, a figure, always weightless.

Xander’s skin against his felt too good. The weight of Xander, his compassion, his need for Max made him feel good. Xander made him feel good. But Xander deserved undivided love, pure, consuming, adoration. He deserved more. As beautiful as it was, this feeling Xander instilled in him, Max knew what he had to do. But it didn’t hurt to touch, did it? It felt so good. Touch was all there was.

Suddenly his lips were against Xander’s, his fingers tugging at Xander’s hair, his lips moving against his lover’s. And it was so good. So so good. He’d never felt anything better than Xander. It was glorious. Hallelujah.

“Shower?” Max murmured against Xander’s lips.

“Shower.” Xander replied, the smile evident in his voice.

They raced into the bathroom and tugged off the last vestiges of clothing that had prevented their entire naked bodies from moving sinuously against one another moments before. Soap, water, skin, lips, hands moving gently—what could be better? Max made love to Xander’s imperfections, worshipped his body, pushed him back against the tiles of the shower and played. Lips, tongue, fingers—they teased and plucked the strings of the harp. A tune of inifinite beauty and harmony was strung out of the instrument, as though it were playing from its very core.

Tortured, titillated, pleasured, and ultimately rocked, Xander collapsed against the wall.

Xander pulled Max to him and kissed him gently. “Thank you.”

Max hoped the water hid the slightly embarrassing tears and nodded. “It was my pleasure.”

“C’mere, let me towel you up and carry you to bed. I’ll worship your body like you just did mine.”

Max let himself be adhered to. He merely watched as Xander worked on him reverently, his heart in his throat, wondering if he should just latch on, just keep Xander—and that was even worse. That was needy. That was unhealthy. Fuck. When had he become this way?

In bed, Xander pushed Max back and kissed his nose. He smiled and grinned mischievously before planting butterfly kisses on Max’s throat, down to his chest…

Max shut his eyes and let the feelings wash over him. Joy, pain, suffering, pleasure—the desire to cry. It was too much. He wanted to let go. So he did, he let go and let his body do the work.

The result was magnificent.

~*~

Max crossed his arms as he stared at the white wall in front of him. His empty apartment.Empty. Empty. Empty. If he shouted, echoes would follow no doubt. Taunting him, teasing him. The momentary happiness at belonging to someone resonated in his mind. A selfish moment that was. Maybe that was the only reason worth living for—to be in the pursuit of experiencing such moments again. At any cost.

Max sighed and crossed his ankles. Xander had left an hour ago. Max still hadn’t moved. His bed was unmade, bathroom still a little wet, and the peanut butter jar lay on the counter unopened.

He wished he had some place to be. School, work, whatever. But he was done. Done for a while. And no fucking work term this year. Just free time upon free time. Lots of time to break a heart. To twist it and tease it and then rip it out. His mouth tasted bitter.

Should he call Sam? Max had been debating this in his head for over ten minutes.

Fuck that, he got up and picked up the damned phone lying on the coffee table and dialed Sam’s number.

Sam picked up right away. “Maaax!” He exclaimed—his usual self, not akward. Typical, joyous Sam.

“Hey, you busy?”

“Nope, wanna come over? Cam and I are just chilling.”

Cam. One of Sam’s friends who didn’t irritate him for perhaps the reason that Max had never gotten to know him. “Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Max didn’t want to be alone.

As he was leaving, he received a text from Xander. Reading it over three times, He hit delete.

~*~

“So, I hear you’re gay.” Miranda said.

Cam choked on his beer.

Max rolled his eyes heavenward before staring at the petite and gorgeous Asian girl in front of him. He hated these pesky cutesy types that adored gay people. He felt like a collectible. If he’d known Miranda was going to be here, he’d have seriously reconsidered coming. “Yeah,” he said, however. “I am.”

Sam just grinned. He looked good, if a little tired because of the under eye circles, as he smiled at Max in a familiar way. Max couldn’t help the rush of pleasure that swam through him. That smile always made him feel at home…safe and right. Max was going to fuck God in the ass if he ever met him. A messed up sense of humour that old bearded man had.

“That’s awesome. I love gay guys, except like when they take all the hot guys away from us girls!” Miranda said cheerfully, looking around as if expecting wild laughter and applause at that statement.

Cam shrugged. “Nothing wrong with gay people,” he said stiffly.

Max felt his lips tugging into a smile at the uptight way Cam said that. His shoulders all stiff and hand curled tightly around the bottle in his hand. Cam was really pretty—even prettier than himself, Max thought. He had this golden skin and such exotic hazel eyes. His heritage was hard to pin down…half south Asian perhaps. His hair was a pitch black, silky and thick—falling just to his shoulders. It would have looked hideous on anyone else. He was tall and slim and beautiful. But a little boring…which was surprising since he was Sam’s friend. And pretentious…definitely pretentious. Snobby. Maybe the two discussed the theory of beauty and the literary devices they’d used in the recent works they’d written. Bloody artsy people.

“How’s Xander?” Sam asked, lighting a joint. He then offered the lighter to Miranda, who took it gladly. Max refused when he was offered as well. No one offered Cam any, Max observed. Cam was probably a vegetarian and obsessed with keeping his body pure or something.

Max shrugged. “I don’t know.” And he didn’t. He’d shut his phone off. It was easier to ignore him that way. He had to. He hated doing it this w ay, but if he spoke to Xander, he’d talk him out of his thoughts. And that wasn’t right.

“Xander is your boyfriend? I bet he’s cute, I bet you’re so cute together!”

Max didn’t even look up. “No he’s not my boyfriend.”

No one said anything.

Sam smoked. Miranda pulled at her sweater. Cam was staring out at the snow with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Have any of you done anything with the same sex? I apologize, Max, I’m sure you have—being gay and all.” Cam said. “Your comment about being gay made me think…”

“Well…I think I’m like 10 percent bisexual,” Miranda said. “I’d like kiss a girl, but go down on her…ewww!”

“Right,” Cam said, not even glancing at Miranda. Snob, Max thought. “And you, Sam?” Cam asked, his hazel eyes flickering to Sam. For the first time, Max found himself intrigued by Sam and Cam’s friendship. It was a little..mature. Especially for Sam. Max felt jealous.

Sam shrugged. “I’ve jacked off with a couple of guys, but nothing like major.”

Max held his breath. Sam’s eyes flashed to Max. He’d never told him this. Sam had never jacked off with him either…Hadn’t they always been friends? Maybe it was weird because Max was gay…

“Did you enjoy it?” Cam asked.

Max got the feeling that Cam loved to know things.

“Yeah, it was hot.” Sam shrugged. “But do I like find guys attractive physically? Nah.”

“Never?” Cam asked.

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Never. Nothing substantial anyway.”

“Well that’s intriguing. I find the idea of human sexuality extremely interesting. Like for example, have you ever felt attracted to a girl, Max?”

Max looked at Cam’s pretty but boring face mildly interestedly. “Hmm, I have. But it’s different. I couldn’t ever be satisfied by a girl, I think.”

“Sexually?”

Max shrugged, feeling a little as though he was on Dr. Phil. “Sexually…emotionally. Whatever. I wouldn’t see why I’d like a girl to satisfy me, is all.”

“You’re saying that there’s ever been a person who has satisfied you sexually and emotionally?”

Max flushed. “Um, no.”

Cam grinned. “Sorry, bad habit. I mean If you’d found such a person, you’d never have let them get away obviously. I’ll get back to drinking and acting normal.”

Max shrugged and stared at his phone. He could honestly say he’d never found such a person. Even he could see past his blind—at times—love for Sam and see how unhealthy his feelings for Sam were. Unfufilling.

He wondered what Xander was doing…

Fuck. Other thoughts. Other thoughts. Right, Cam was annoying.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam said, grinning. “Your turn..how about you?”

“Me?” Cam asked, blushing a little. He cast his eyes downward, the confident persona all but washed away, as he thought about his answer. “Hmm, well sexuality has always interested me--,” He repeated. Max wondered if there was something Cam didn’t find intriguing. “--and I find myself to be extremely open minded in the sense that I don’t think companionship should be confused with sexual satisfaction. You don’t have to find one person who offers you everything, but rather have a plethora of relationships that offer you many things.”

“Polyamory?” Sam raised his brows.

Max followed the conversation idly. Yep, he’d been right. They were such nerds.

“Well, I’m not against it, in any case. I’d prefer to have a companion whose thoughts and company I value, with sex not being the seal to our relationship, but rather emotions. Sex is physical. I would never ask my partner to remain sexually faithful.”

“You’re a freak.”

Cam grinned. “Whatever. Never mind. I give up. I love pussy and tits. Give me those and I’m a happy bunny.”

“What about the same sex?” Sam asked, breathing out a torrent of smoke.

“What about it?” Cam asked.

Max’s head was reeling. “You mean, in a long term relationship, the only thing you find of value is the emotional relationship?”

“Err…well sex is great too, but I wouldn’t like to limit myself or my lover by insisting on halting our sexual relationships with others. OF course this type of relationship is one that is driven by desire. You don’t need the other person to survive. You don’t halt your life for them. The love isn’t so consuming that you burn in it. It’s quiet, reliable, you want them, but you could live without them. It’s pleasant.”

Max stared at Sam’s face. At this point he didn’t even realize that while Cam sounded like he knew what he was talking about, it was all just speculation on his part. He’d clearly never felt the burn of love. He just wished Sam would take him. He wished Sam would realize how well they’d be together hypothetically. And if Sam could fuck women too…

Max shook the thought aside. What sort of life would that be? It would be okay if he was wanted by Sam as well. But he wasn’t. And he’d always feel terrible. Because even if he too let his sexuality out with others, it wouldn’t be because he didn’t want Sam if he could have him completely.

Why was he even thinking about this? Damned Cam.

“I don’t know man, that’s great and all, but I just got out of something. The only thing I want is sex, sex, sex, no strings. But for myself, all I want is a woman who is sexy as hell inside and out and maybe a kid or two. Something normal.”

Cam made a face. “That’s so…”

Sam grinned. “Heteronormative? Well, fuck that, that’s what I want. I’m not as culturally advanced as you are.”

Cam made a face. “You know that’s not me. I just prefer thinking outside the box and not being trapped by societal norms.”

“Hipster.”

“Well you don’t see me wearing frameless nerd glasses or vintage vests, do you?” Cam asked.

“What’s a hipster?” Miranda asked, breaking away from her daze. Her eyes had a glossy look to them.

Max snorted, Cam just looked at Miranda, and Sam flashed an incredulous look at her. “Keep smoking, lovely.”

“Anyway,” sam looked at Cam again. “That doesn’t answer my question. Have you ever done anything with a guy?”

“Well…no, but I wouldn’t be against it, if you know what I mean. I mean when I close my eyes and want to masturbate or something, the fantasies that rush into my mind are all to do with females, but much of this is a cultural thing if you know what I mean. If I allow myself to actively think about males, it doesn’t disgust me, it does appeal. There are a lot of things I’d be willing to try with male or female. But as for a life-partner…I’d have to say I’d go female.”

“So you’re bisexual?” Sam asked.

“Well, if we’re going with the normal definition of such things, I’d have to say no. I’m very straight.”

“And your definition?”

“Then I’d have to classify myself as ‘kinky’. Straight, gay, bisexual don’t cut it for me. There are many different types of attraction and emotions. It’s all very complicated I think.”

Max rolled his eyes. “You’re annoying.”

Sam grinned at him. “isn’t he just?”

“Do you always discuss such boring things?” Max asked.

Cam just smiled patiently, his pretty face belying the apparently really analytical mind inside. “You don’t even look mildly bored to me, Max. You look a little agitated as you glance at your phone, but other than that, I’d say you’re very interested. It’s probably because your brain doesn’t get tickled by the intricacies of the human experience in your other discussions amongst friends.”

“I don’t really have friends.” Max said absently. “So I could care less.”

“So what am I? You’re pet dog?” Sam snorted.

Cam merely looked concerned. “What do you mean you don’t have any friends? Perhaps it’s that you’re merely closed off from others and that’s why you feel such a way.”

Max batted his lashes. “Stop analyzing me, pretty boy, I’m not your sexuality.”

Cam flushed and stared at his bottle. “Well, I’ll analyze you silently then.” He smirked. That contrast in innocence and confidence was beginning to irk Max a little. He preferred it when he thought Cam was an idiotic pretty boy rather than a boring but intelligent pretty boy that was obviously really good friends with Sam and had really interesting conversations with him. Max felt grossly inadequate.

Why couldn’t Max discuss the intricacies of human sexuality with Sam? Fuck, couldn’t he do anything right?

“How about we do something interesting instead?” He suggested.

“Like what?” Sam asked.

“Well we could sit here all day and discuss the diverseness of human sexuality and our openness or closed-off-ness to experimenting with a member of the same sex, but why don’t we try it instead?” Max smirked, though he felt the twinge in his heart clench tighter.

“Err…” Sam said.

Cam froze up clearly, staring bewildered at Max, hazel eyes wide.

“Straight people are so boring.” Max mumbled, rolling his eyes. “I’ll go first.” He crossed the room to where Miranda was playing with her phone and tapped on her shoulder. She turned and smiled at him. “Max!”

Max grinned at her pretty oval face and pink lips. “Let’s play a game.”

“Ooh, what is it?!”

“Can I kiss you? It’ll be fun..”

“Yes,” Miranda said cheerfully, raising her face for a kiss. Max leaned down and caught her lips against his own. Miranda pulled him down by the shoulders until he had his legs on either side of hers, and his hand was pressed gently against her cheek. It was pleasant. He liked the intimacy of Miranda’s soft body against his. He appreciated her curves in a way, and moved his lips against her expertly.

They broke apart.

Sam cheered and clapped.

Max grinned and settled beside Miranda. She was growing on him in a weird way.

“That was nice. I still prefer guys, but I guess I see what you mean, Cam. It’s not that simple, but at the end of the day we all have a preference.”

“Well, most people do. Others have different sentiments attached to different genders, sexual acts, body parts, et cetera.”

Sam stopped Cam. “Enough talking, smart-ass. Come here and kiss me.”

Cam gaped. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me.” Sam said. “Oh come on…Fine, I’ll come to you.”

Cam shook his head. “Well, fine, I don’t have a problem with kissing you, it’s all a matter of perspective really. I mean, you’re attractive and I refuse to let myself be limited in experience--.” He shut up because Sam had approached him and tugged him to his feet.

Sam reached for Cam’s cheek awkwardly, and pulled Cam’s head down to his own. They looked into one another’s eyes for a moment before their lips met. It was soft, sweet.

Max could see cam’s eyes fluttering shut over Sam’s shoulder. He tried to still the dull throbbing of his chest. It was just a kiss. But why not me? He thought. Max averted his eyes, as he saw the tempo of the kiss changing to a more passionate one.

They broke apart, gasping for breath. “Well that was nice.” Sam said.

Cam chuckled. “It was indeed. I can now say I’ve kissed a guy.”

“And? Still straight?” Sam asked suggestively.

“Well it was enjoyable, but I’m not quite attracted to you so I’ll safely say that I’m sure Ill enjoy kissing a guy more if I feel some attraction to him.”

Sam pouted. “I’m sexy,” HE said.

“You are. But as you’ve probably surmised, for me it’s more about the personality of the individual rather than physical attractiveness. Though that does play a part—but in enhancing the person who’s emotionally appealing. Meanwhile, physical attraction cannot add to someone who is a bit of an idiot for me.”

“I’d fuck a dumb chick.” Sam said.

“I’d fuck her if she didn’t say anything and the foreplay involved no discussion.” Cam replied, grinning. He alternated between this really nerdy way of speaking, and a more “normal” way of speaking. It was hard to pin him down from one moment to another.

“I’d fuck you.” Sam said.

Cam flushed. “Why do I get the feeling you aren’t entirely joking.”

Sam just laughed and turned to the rest of us. “What did you think? Hot?”

Miranda giggled. “Yes!”

Max shrugged. “Meh,” and went back to tracing patterns on his thigh.

The phone rang. Everyone went quiet.

Sam answered it. His eyes flashed to Max while he spoke. “Yeah he’s here.”

Max wanted to die.

“It’s Xander for you.” Sam said, holding out the receiver. His face was devoid of all expression.

Max was tempted to leave the room, but if he did, he may say something silly and private and stupid and dumb and idiotic and crazy and he knew better. “Hi,” He said.

Xander’s voice was concerned. “Where have you been? Your phone is off, you haven’t replied to my texts, and I’ve been worried!”

“I’m fine,” Max said evenly, refusing to show weakness. “My phone is dead.” His eyes flashed at the now turned-on screen.

“Want to chill later when you’re home?”

“I think I’m staying at Sam’s. It’s been a fun night, making out and all.”

Xander was silent. “Making out?”

Max had half a mind to correct what was obviously a misunderstanding, but it may be for the best. “Yeah.” He wanted to die. He deserved to be shot.

Xander’s voice was cold. “Don’t call me again. I’m done with you and your precious friend.”

The line went dead.

That easy? Had it been that easy? Max threw it on the chair and frowned. Perhaps he’d seen too many chick flicks. Girls did tend to exaggerate such things, and movies weren’t the most accurate about real-life situations.

“What did Xander want?”

“He’s not not going to be calling me again. Ever.” Max said stonily. Miranda and Cam pretended to be really interested in the contents of their bottles.

“What? Can we talk?” Sam asked.

Max had never seen this expression on Sam’s face. It was a combination of silent anger and determination, and it made the bones of his face hard. His jaw was tight, and the sharp angles seemed to jut out even more. It was a little alarming, and reminiscent of some age old masculine signal of power from days in the trees long gone to dust.

Max stuck his chin out, trying not to appear unfazed.

~*~