Chain Reaction 3.1.28: My Life Makes No Sense

Darrin

     What just happened?

     Marco pulls back, and our breathing sounds too loud.

     "I hate you."

     He sighs. "I know." Then he kisses me again.

     I can't make sense of this, especially drunk as sh*t like I am. "You hate me too."

     "Yes, I f--king despise you." He kisses me yet again.

     What sort of game is he playing? Is this some sort of trap? I pull back again, and my expression must show my confusion.

     He's mad. "Look, I don't get it either, but can you just shut the f--k up for once?" He backs me up into the wall.

     Fine. Whatever. But if he brings this up at work and claims it was all my idea, he's in for some deep sh*t because I will deny everything. He started it.

     No, it doesn't make sense at all, but that seems to be the theme of my life.

     He moans and pulls back. "My place?"

     I shrug. "Why the f--k not."

     We don't say much on the way to his place, and once we get there, we change out of our outerwear.

     Then we change out of everything. Each of us get a little stress relief. The whole time, I'm expecting something bad to happen, but other than it being strange that it's Marco, things are almost normal.

     Later, we leave the bed for the other room. I sit on the couch, and he sits on the floor.
     "Have you ever sat and thought about toes?" He wiggles his toes.
     "Dude, how high are you?"
     "I'm not."
     I'm not drunk enough anymore, and the reality that Marco and I just f--ked each other is starting to bug me. What the hell is supposed to happen now? Are we going to be best buds all of a sudden? Because I still hate him. And his stupid f--king toes.
     I let out a frustrated sigh and stand up. "Your apartment sucks."
     "Yeah. I know. But at least I don't live with my parents."
     "Ha! Touché." I don't know why I don't just move out. I guess because that would make sense.

     Michael asked me, begged me, more than once to move in with him. I guess I can say I'm glad I didn't because who knows what would've happened when I found out he murdered Landgraab.
     The as*hole interrupts my depressing thoughts. "So what's her name, F--kface?"
     "Who? Your cousin?" I honestly don't remember.
     "No, dumbas*. The one you're moping over."
     "I'm not moping."
     He lets out a humorless laugh. "Yes, you f--king are. What's her name?" He stands up. I can see his reflection in the glass.
     I sigh. What the hell. "Michael."
     He freezes. Then he smiles. Then he laughs for real. "Hell's bells, you are gay."
     "Bi." I don't give a f--k what he thinks.
     "Humph." He walks over behind me.
     Then his arms wrap around me, and he sticks his hand in my underwear.

     I'm panting in seconds. I don't stop him. Because I know I f--king need it.
     "Are you sure, F--kface?"
     "Why... do you say... that?"
     "Because of how you treated my cousin. I got to thinking about it, and it made me wonder." He's going at me harder, pressing his erection into me.
     "I've had... girlfriends... before." I whine because he slows down.
     "Yeah, but could any of them get you this hard?"
     "Yes. Sure."
     "Okay then." He stops.
     "F--k! I hate you!" I go to punch him, but he's taking off his boxers.
     He sees me watching him and smiles. "I know, and yet we're still here doing this." He pulls mine off.

     "You hate me, yet you're letting me f--k you nice and slow. I'll bet a woman's never given you the kind of satisfaction you need."
     "Unh! I'm desperate, and you're just lucky."
     He laughs again, never stopping. "Oh yeah, I'm getting lucky on this nice ass here. And I'm right. You like this more."
      "No, I like doing the f--king more."
      Another laugh. "All right. When I'm done, I'll let you f--k me as hard as you want. But I'm taking my time, F--kface." He pauses in his speech, enjoying himself. "You've always pissed me off, getting all the good cases, getting the good desk-"
      "You're almost never at your desk!"
      "Right. Because I work harder than you do."
      "Wrong! I work just as hard as you do. Those cases don't solve themselves."
      "Well, tonight, we can both work hard. Because I'm working... you... hard... right... now!" He comes.
      "Thought you were going to take your time."
      He pulls out and turns me around. "Do it. F--k me, Darrin. Hard."

     So I do. I work out quite a bit of my anger: at him, at my life, at Michael... everything. He never makes a single sound of shock or pain or anger. He takes it like he likes it, which just pisses me off even more. I'd been so scared of anything coming out at work--when the number one person I was worried about was gay himself.
     I still won't come out at work, though. If he says anything, I'll deny it until I'm blue in the face.
     The f--ker is enjoying this. I actually try to hurt him now, but all he does is let out a contented moan. I've had enough, so I get myself to finish. Then I pull out and turn to leave.

     He smirks. "Leaving so soon?"
     "I'm going home. I'm not drunk anymore, so it makes no sense for me to stay in this dump."
     "So you'll run home to Mommy and Daddy. And it sure as hell isn't like you have to go to work in the morning. Why don't you stay?"
     "Because you disgust me." I get dressed.
     "But you can't deny you feel better now than you did this afternoon."
     I ignore him. Even if he's right.

     "The door's open for you when you realize you need more."
     Again, I pretend not to hear him, leaving his filthy apartment.

     I ignore Marco at work, when I'm finally allowed to return, and things go back to a very sad normal. Until I get drunk at a bar near his sh*tty apartment, show up at his door, tell him to keep his plumdamn mouth shut, and we f--k.

     I still hate him, but I think he's starting to like me. He, at least, calls me f--kface less. And when he does, it's more in an I'm-being-funny way. I'm not calling it comedic.
     A couple of months go by, and I'm worried I'm about to make the next mistake and show up at the bastard's door again. Desperate to get somewhere new, I try out a new club. Maybe I can find someone here.

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A/N: This pushes ahead here some months or so at the end, as kind of evidenced by the info dump paragraphs. Next, we hear from Ivy, then Mike again for a while before the bottom picture finally matches up. (And yes, I'll use the same pic so you'll definitely know.) I've been having an awful time trying to get it all to fit logically. So, in other words, about 5 chapters are thrown in between the next-to-last and last paragraph.