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arcadianmaggieSummary: Best friends, roommates, they've known each other all their lives. What happens when one's boyfriend can't make their Valentine's date? AH, slash.
Back to Part 1
God, my head. I was afraid to move because I knew the moment I did, I'd be vomiting everywhere. I needed to lie still for a few minutes until I could make it to the bathroom. How much did I fucking drink last night?
I tried to piece the evening together. Peter canceling, drowning my sorrows in bourbon after dragging out the photo album, Edward coming home, going to club with Edward… kissing Edward…
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Sleeping with Edward.
Fuck.
I bolted from the bed and barely made it to the toilet before I was losing the entire contents of my stomach. I heaved and heaved until there was nothing but bile coming up.
My memories were fuzzy and chunks of time were missing, but there was no mistaking. I had woken up in Edward's bed. I had had my cock buried in Edward's ass light night. What the fuck had happened? Edward didn't even bottom. And that was definitely the first time I had ever topped.
I felt sick. And not just physically. I loved Peter. I loved him, yet I had fucked around on him on our anniversary. God. What was I going to tell him? What could I have been thinking? That wasn't me. I wasn't the type of guy to screw around. I was the guy who wanted the romance, who wanted the commitment.
What the fuck had we been thinking? This was going to completely ruin mine and Edward's friendship.
I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for some Tylenol and downed a few with a glass of water. My head was pounding. I couldn't concentrate. Everything was fucked up. Everything. One drunken night, and I had completely fucked up the two relationships that meant the most to me.
I sat down on the toilet and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. If only this was some bad dream that I'd wake up from.
After drinking another glass of water, I turned on the shower, as hot as I could stand it. I stood under the spray and let the water cascade over my body, staying there until the temperature started to run cool. Once I was toweled off and dressed, I stumbled to the kitchen. I didn't think I could handle coffee, but maybe my stomach could deal with some toast.
I was sitting at the table, head in my hands, when I heard the back door open. Edward came into the kitchen, obviously returning from a run. He looked surprised to see me, then his face shifted into an expression I couldn't read. I had no idea what he was thinking.
He took off his coat and hung it by the door, tossed his keys on the counter and sat down in the chair next to me.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
I lifted up my head, all my anguish plain on my face, and asked, "What the fuck did we do last night?"
He stood up and went to the sink, filled a glass with water and drank it. He refilled it, pulled another glass out off the cabinet and filled it too, then brought them both back to the table, sliding the second one across to me.
"Here. Drink this. You look like shit," he said.
"I feel like shit."
I drank the water then rubbed my eyes.
"How am I going to tell Peter?" I asked. "This is so fucked up."
I felt Edward's hand on my thigh. "You don't have to tell him anything, if you don't want. We were both drunk. It didn't mean anything. We just got carried away. We can forget it ever happened."
Could I do that? Could I just pretend that I hadn't fucked around on my boyfriend with my best friend?
I lifted my face to look at Edward. "What about us? Did we completely fuck up our friendship?"
"Nothing could fuck up our friendship. Nothing. You and me? Nothing in the world could ever change that. Got it?"
I nodded, wanting with all my heart to believe that was true.
"I'm sorry, Jasper," he said next. "I'd never want to do anything to mess up your relationships with Peter. I know how you feel about him. I should never have let things get that far."
"You? It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You're not the one in the relationship."
"I… I know we're both at fault. But…well, you were already wasted by the time I got home. I should have… I should have been taking care of you…"
I looked up and was surprised to see his eyes welling up. I don't think I'd ever seen Edward upset to the point of tears.
"It's not your fault, Edward," I repeated. I buried my face in my hands again. "God, this is so fucked up."
"I'm sorry," he said again. His voice broke on the words.
"I can't think," I said. My head was still pounding and I wasn't sure I was going to keep down the toast. "I'm going to go back to bed for a few hours."
I could feel Edward's eyes following me as I left the room.
In the end I decided not to tell Peter. Edward was right; it was a one time drunken mistake. I didn't see any reason to hurt Peter, simply because I wanted to relieve my guilty conscience.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. I couldn't just forget. The guilt ate and ate and ate at me. Peter did take me out later in the week. It was a perfect date. He was attentive, charming, the ideal boyfriend. When we got back to his place, he was all over me. This was normally how we ended our evenings, but my betrayal was too fresh in my mind for me to truly enjoy myself. So instead, I got down on my knees to suck him, and when he was panting and gripping my hair, beginning to lose control, I climbed on the bed, kneeling with my ass in the air for him to fuck me from behind. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.
He quickly prepared me and thrust in to me with a groan, telling me how good I felt. As always, he was a generous lover, making sure I got off with his agile hand wrapped around my cock. He came inside me, then flopped down on his back with a satisfied sigh and soon was asleep. I lay there for hours, wondering how I could live like this, keeping secrets after I had lost so much already from wanting to live without them.
I avoided getting together with Peter the next few weeks, claiming grad school was kicking my ass. When he asked me if anything was wrong, if I was mad at him about something, I lied even more, all the while feeling guilty about Peter thinking it was something he did, rather than knowing it was something I had done.
Things were awkward with Edward as well. No matter what he said about our friendship not changing, I didn't know how to act around him. That night was still fuzzy—I tried not to think about it at all—but I did have vague memories, more impressions really, that left me feeling unsettled. I avoided examining them too closely. I hoped with a little time, things would go back to normal between us.
After another month or so of dancing around things with Peter, snapping at him over stupid shit, things finally came to a head.
"Would you please tell me what the fuck I did?" he demanded. "Is it still that stupid Valentine's date? It seems like you've had permanent PMS since then. I fucking told you I had no choice; I had to work. And I tried to make it up to you. I thought we had a great time?"
I sunk into a chair, my elbows on the table, my hands in my hair. I had to tell him. Telling him might ruin everything, but not telling him was already doing the job.
"Yes, it's about Valentine's Day," I started.
"That's not fair," he cut me off. "I had to work."
I shook my head with a heavy sigh. "It's not that." I took a deep breath, steeling myself to tell him. "I slept with Edward that night."
I watched his face when I told him, seeing the surprise and something else. He looked uncomfortable. And unsure.
"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked.
"No, I'm not breaking up with you."
"Well," he said in a careful measured voice, "we never promised we'd be exclusive."
I was stunned. That was completely not the reaction I was expecting. What did he mean we'd never promised to be exclusive? We'd been practically living together for the past two years. I knew we had never really talked about any of this, but still. My mind was reeling at the implications.
"So… you're not upset?"
"Are you still seeing him?" he asked.
"What? No! He's like my brother."
"Right. Your brother who you have sex with." Peter tended toward sarcasm when he was angry.
"It wasn't like that," I protested. "We were drunk. It was one time."
He held up his hand. "I believe you," he said with a sigh.
A tense silence filled the room. He rubbed his hands over his face.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked.
"Have you been sleeping with other people?" I asked. From his reaction before, I thought I already knew the answer.
"A few times. Now and then," he said with another sigh.
"How many is a few?" I asked.
"Jasper…"
"How many?"
"I don't know. A half dozen maybe."
"Who?"
"They didn't mean anything, Jasper."
"Who?" I insisted.
"Randall. Charlotte. Maria once."
Could this entire conversation be even more bizarre?
"Charlotte and Maria? As in, girls?" I asked, my voice laced with incredulity.
"Yes, girls," he said with another touch of sarcasm. "You know I'm bisexual."
No, I actually didn't know Peter was bisexual. I was starting to think I didn't know anything about our relationship at all.
I stood up abruptly. "I think I'm gonna go. I need to think."
Peter grabbed my hand.
"Whoa. Wait a minute." He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me.
"Don't leave," he said. "This doesn't have to be a big deal."
He tilted my chin up so that he could look in my eyes.
"You know how much I care about you, right?"
I nodded, even though I wished he'd actually say it for once.
"C'mon. Sit down with me. Let's talk."
I let him lead me over to the couch. He grabbed both my hands after we were seated.
"I'm okay with the Edward thing," he said. "You said it was just that one night, right? A one time drunken thing?"
I nodded again.
"You're so much younger than I am. Still in school. I know I was the first guy you'd even been with. I figured, you know, you'd want to have your fun. I guess we should have talked more, huh?"
"Is that what you were doing? Having your fun?" I knew I sounded bitter, but I was very hurt. I'd had no idea he was seeing anyone else.
He let go of my hands to rub his face again.
"I'm sorry, Jasper. I had no idea you wanted to be exclusive. I just assumed…
"Look," he continued. "Those others… it's not like what we have. That was just sex. You know you're the one who's important to me, right?"
I thought I knew that. Now I wasn't sure of anything. I wouldn't look at him.
"Hey," he said softly. He grabbed my chin again, gently turning my face toward his. "If you want us to be exclusive, I'm okay with that. More than okay with it. I think it's great."
I still didn't say anything.
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
I nodded again.
"Then that's what I want too."
He leaned over to kiss me. I let him.
"Will you stay tonight?"
I kissed him in answer.
He was extra attentive that night in bed, kissing every inch of me, worshipping my body, bringing me to the edge again and again with his hands and his mouth. He rimmed me for a longer time and more thoroughly than he ever had before, and when he penetrated me, we were face to face; I was held close while he whispered things in my ear that I wanted to hear.
February 14, 1994
I was sitting at the breakfast bar, eating my after school snack, telling my mom about my day.
"And we had a party, and we passed out valentines and ate candy in the shape of hearts."
I jumped down off my chair and ran over to my backpack, pulling out a big red heart cut out of construction paper.
"And look at the one Edward made me! It was bigger than any of the other ones in the whole class!"
Inside, in black marker, Edward had carefully written: Be my Valentine. Love, Edward.
"When we get older, Edward says we're going to get married."
I heard my mom's sharp intake of breath and looked up to see her staring in fear at the kitchen door. My father stood there, and I recognized the look on his face. The valentine dropped from my hands and fell to the floor. I stopped talking and stood as still as I could.
My mom stepped in front of me and said, "Sit down and finish your snack."
She left the room, pulling my father with her by the elbow. I stared at my juice feeling sick to my stomach as I heard them arguing in the other room.
"Not raising a little faggot…"
"Don't be ridiculous… seven years old…like brothers"
"Keep him away from that Cullen boy…"
"…just boys…like brothers…"
"No kid of mine…"
"…grown up together…like brothers… no idea what he's saying…"
"…see about that…"
My father and my mother were in the doorway again.
"Jasper, tell your father how you feel about your friend Edward," her eyes were pleading with me. I knew the fight had something to do with the valentine, but I wasn't sure what. I knew what was going to happen if I gave the wrong answer. I could see my dad's hands in fists at his sides. I thought back to the argument I had overheard and keyed in on the phrase my mom had repeated over and over.
"He's like my brother."
I could see Mom's shoulders relax and the relief on her face. I knew I had gotten the answer right.
My dad stared at me and I held still, not wanting to do anything else to upset him. Then he turned and left the room without saying anything else.
My mom picked the valentine Edward had given me off the floor and crumpled it up, throwing it in the trash. I took a bite of my snack and tried not to cry.
"Honey, boys can't get married to each other. Only boys and girls can get married. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"You can't say things like that about Edward. You boys are like brothers. Brothers can't get married to each other. Okay?"
"Okay," I whispered.
"Now finish your snack, and you can go watch a television show."
I could see her hands shaking as she nervously puttered around the kitchen, and I knew it was a very bad thing I had said about me and Edward getting married, even if I wasn't sure why.
February 14, 2006
"You and Alice have plans tonight?" Edward asked as he flopped down on the bed in our dorm room.
I was at the desk, surfing the 'net on my laptop. I knew this conversation would come up eventually.
"No. We're not really seeing each other any more."
"You're not? When did that happen?"
"A while ago."
"And you didn't think to mention it to your best friend?"
The truth was, Alice and I had always only ever been friends, even if I had tried pretending it was more years ago. It was convenient for me to let my dad and everyone else think otherwise, and she generously played along.
Once I was at school and away from him, and wasn't forced to constantly assert my heterosexuality, Alice and I had naturally drifted apart. She had easily made new friends at college and I certainly wasn't going to get in the way of her finding someone more suitable to date.
"Sorry. I guess I thought you already knew."
"What happened?" He sat up and had his hands clasped in front of him, elbows on his knees as he stared at me intently. There was something about the way he was looking at me that triggered a flash of understanding.
He knew. He knew, and he was giving me an opportunity to tell him.
I glanced away. "We just wanted different things."
"You know," he said carefully, "if you ever need to talk about… different things… or if you wanted to discuss things with… other people… you know I'm here for you, right?"
"Yeah, I know," I whispered. "Thanks."
He waited, but when it became obvious that I wasn't going to say anything else, he said, "Well, since you don't have plans, you want to go grab a couple of beers?"
"Sure. That sounds good."
February 14, 2011
"What are you and Peter planning for tonight?" Edward asked.
I looked up from where I was sitting on the couch reading.
"We're supposed to go out to dinner, then dancing later." I gave a little laugh. "I keep expecting his call to tell me he has to cancel. We've yet to ever actually go out on Valentine's Day."
He hesitating, standing there, awkwardly running his hand through his hair.
I looked at him questioningly.
"Um, is everything okay between you and Peter?" he asked.
"What? Why do you ask that?"
"You've just spent a lot more time at home lately." He shook his head. "Not that I'm complaining, and not that it's any of my business."
"You're one to talk." I couldn't remember the last time Edward had gone out, let alone saw a guy stumbling out of his bedroom in the morning.
"I told you. Med school's a lot harder than I expected."
I let it drop. He obviously didn't want to talk about it. I had watched Edward as he had gradually become more withdrawn and reclusive. I was worried about him. He was acting as if he were depressed, but he refused to talk about it with me, no matter how many times I tried to broach the subject.
"Peter and I are fine," I finally answered. "It's just… I've got a lot of things on my mind. I needed some space to think."
It had been kind of a rocky year for me and Peter. After the night we agreed to be exclusive, I started examining every aspect of our relationship. Exclusivity should have been a big step forward for us; instead, I felt as if we had taken a giant step back, since it was something I had thought we had had all along.
Initially, I had done my best to be the best boyfriend and partner I could be. While I recognized that Peter forgave me for sleeping with Edward, the truth was, while he may not have considered us exclusive, I had; I had been the unfaithful one. I had cheated, not him, even if he had actually slept with more people than I had.
I didn't complain when he had to work late or cancel plans. I gave a lot of head. When he'd roll over after we made love and would immediately fall asleep lying flat on his back, I tried not to think about the one memory from that Valentine's night that had stuck with me, clear as day—being held tightly, legs tangled, arms wrapped round each other.
Of course the more I tried not to think about it, the more I craved it. Although Peter had said all the right things to me when we had made love that night, he hadn't ever said them again. It wasn't his style.
I revisited that disturbing fleeting thought I had had when I looked at the photo album of my family, when the picture of my dad briefly reminded me of Peter.
They were alike in many ways. Apart from his attentiveness in bed, Peter was not very demonstrative—definitely not a talk about your feelings kind of guy. My dad was the opposite of affectionate, and I couldn't ever remember a time when he had actually told me he loved me.
Peter tended toward OCD behavior and liked everything to be just so. I found that aspect of his personality easy to accommodate, as my dad's military background made him organized and disciplined, and the household I grew up in functioned much the same way.
Not to mention the physical resemblance: they were both tall, dark, and handsome. I had inherited my mother's light eyes and blond hair.
I wished I had never taken psychology as an undergrad when I began to wonder if my attachment to Peter stemmed in part from a desire to finally receive the approval and affection I was denied from my father.
I finally decided that even if there was some underlying truth to the idea, it didn't make my feelings for Peter any less real. I loved him. I think I had fallen in love with him that very first night.
Of course that line of thought had me questioning how quickly we got involved. Did I fall so hard and fast because it was the first time another guy actually had his mouth on my cock? Would I have fallen in love with anyone I slept with that night?
When I tried to look at our relationship objectively, it was obvious that my ideas about it and Peter's ideas about it were at odds. I wondered if I had convinced myself there was more there than there actually was, so that I could justify that losing my family had been a worthwhile sacrifice.
The more unsettled my thoughts made me, the more I craved comfort and familiarity. I found myself spending more and more time at the apartment with Edward, even if we were awkward and uncomfortable around each other at first. Eventually, things did go back to normal. Well, normal except for Edward's moodiness and depression.
I finally got the courage to ask him if it had anything to do with us sleeping together, but he insisted it was the pressure of Med school. Nothing more. I didn't believe him, but if he didn't want to talk to me about it, there wasn't really anything I could do.
He had gotten worse since Christmas, and I felt partially responsible. Peter had actually invited me home, to meet his parents. I was excited, finally feeling that our relationship was moving forward. It was the kind of thing I had always wanted from him—a commitment toward the future, something tangible to show that I was important to him. When I told Edward, I could tell he was disappointed. For the last several years, I had spent Christmas with him and his parents. I felt torn between the two of them, but there wasn't really a choice for me; of course I was going to spend Christmas with my boyfriend's family.
The funny thing was I missed Edward the entire time, and I couldn't wait to get home. Peter's family was great, and the visit was nice, but I felt more like a guest than family.
"What kind of things?" Edward asked. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Asks the guy who won't talk about anything."
"Whatever," he said, with a roll of his eyes.
"It's nothing, really. Just the same old stuff."
"Like what?"
"I just thought things would be different after Christmas. But here I am, waiting around for Peter to call, to find out if we're still on for tonight."
"Well, if he cancels, you know you've always got me," Edward said with a smile. For a minute, I could see that spark, the Edward of old who didn't walk around with a cloud of gloom and doom over his head.
I smiled. "Yeah, I know."
A warm glow spread through my stomach as we shared a moment of understanding. Edward was always going to be there for me, no matter what, and I'd be there for him, always.
My cell phone rang. Edward walked to the kitchen while I spoke with Peter.
"Hey, we're good to go for tonight. And I've got news. I asked to be taken off the online game and put on a PC product. I'll still have some deadlines here and there, but it won't be the crazy real time shit I've dealt with for so long with these insane episodic updates."
"No shit. Really?"
"Yeah. I'll have more of a normal schedule. It will be a lot easier to spend time together."
"That's great."
"Now get your ass over here, so I can take you out and celebrate."
I laughed. "On my way."
"See you in a bit."
I hung up the phone, lost in thought.
Edward walked back in the room. "Peter?"
"Yeah. We're on for tonight."
"I'm glad it worked out for you."
I didn't reply, still thinking.
"Jasper?"
"Hmmm? Oh. Sorry. He's changing his work schedule so we can spend more time together."
"That's good, right? Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yeah, it's what I wanted."
"I'm happy for you."
"What are you going to do tonight?"
"I'll probably stay in. Get some studying done."
"You're working too hard, Edward. You should go out for a while. Have a little fun."
"I'll think about it."
I stood up. For some reason I was reluctant to leave.
"Well," I said, "I'll see you later."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Jasper."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Edward."
On the way over to Peter's my mind was spinning. I should be excited about Peter's news. It was exactly what I had wanted, another tangible sign that he wanted a future with me. And for once we were actually going out on Valentine's Day.
I should be excited, but instead, I was feeling disappointed that I wasn't spending the evening with Edward after all.
I found a spot to pull over and stopped the car. I needed to think.
All sorts of memories of me and Edward were running through my head. When I stopped to consider it, I couldn't remember a single Valentine's Day that I hadn't spent with him. Even all the way back to when we were seven years old and it was ingrained in me that I shouldn't ever think of him as anything other than a brother.
Another memory came into my head, and this time I didn't push it away as I had every other time it flitted near my consciousness: the two of us completely wasted, swaying together on the dance floor, bodies pressed close.
"Edward, will you be my Valentine?"
"I've always been yours, Jasper," he said. "Always."
Every moment of my life shifted and reorganized itself in a blinding moment of clarity.
I restarted the car and pulled back out onto the road, heading toward Peter's.
He opened the door, and pulled me in for a kiss, his hand hidden behind his back. When we pulled apart, he produced a long stemmed red rose, with a "Happy Anniversary, babe."
My heart sank in anticipation of what I was about to do.
His smile faded.
"Fuck.," he said. "I knew it. I knew I fucked it all up, right from the start, didn't I? It's all just a little too little, a little too late, isn't it?"
He didn't wait for me to answer, but walked over to sit on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.
I sat down beside him.
"Should I cancel our reservations?" he asked.
"Yes. I just came to talk and to pick up my things."
He was quiet, then he started speaking. "I've always known the kinds of things you wanted. Some of that stuff… it's just not me, you know?"
I did know.
"I was willing to try, though."
I felt my throat closing up. I didn't know what to say.
"Is it Edward?" he asked
"Yeah," I whispered. "I think it always has been."
He nodded.
"I think you should go, because any second I'm going to get sarcastic and bitchy and mean and I don't want us to end that way. I'll get your stuff together and call you soon, okay?"
"Okay."
He walked me to the door. As I turned to say good bye, he pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing me hard and burying his face in my hair.
When he pulled away, I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.
"Go on. Get out of here," he said, with a pained smile.
"Peter…" I started.
"I'll be fine," he cut in. "I'm too old for you anyway."
I reached for him and gave him another hard hug back, then I turned and left, getting into my car and heading toward home.
When I returned to the apartment, I was surprised that Edward wasn't there. I had suggested he go out, but I hadn't expected him to actually do so. He certainly hadn't the last dozen or so times I had suggested it.
I grabbed my keys and got in the car again, heading to the club.
I scanned the crowd, looking for Edward, but saw no signs of him.
"Have you seen Edward?" I yelled to the bartender over the noise of the music.
He shook his head no.
I left the club and walked the block or so to another bar we frequented.
My heart started racing when I saw the head of familiar reddish brown hair. He was sitting on a stool, leaning on the edge of the bar, arms folded in front of him, shoulders hunched, head hanging low.
I slid into the seat next to him.
"Hey. Can I buy you a drink?" I asked.
He looked up, shocked. I winced at the dead look in his eyes.
"Jasper?" He looked around. "What are you doing here? Where's Peter?"
"We broke up."
His expression livened as that spark suddenly appeared.
"You broke up," he repeated. "What happened?"
"I told him I was in love with someone else."
He came back to life as a smile started blooming across his face.
"You told him you were in love with someone else," he repeated again. He was grinning now, his smile lighting up the entire room.
Then he leaned back away from me.
"Wait," he frowned with mock concern. "It's me, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, it's you, you idiot."
He laughed, grabbing me and pulling me toward him. His hand was in my hair and his lips were on mine, and it was perfect. So fucking perfect. Hot and sweet and home and love. When his tongue slid against mine, I thought I would melt onto the floor.
He pulled away, and I stared at him, dazed.
"Just checking," he said before he kissed me again.
The End.
Back to Part 1
God, my head. I was afraid to move because I knew the moment I did, I'd be vomiting everywhere. I needed to lie still for a few minutes until I could make it to the bathroom. How much did I fucking drink last night?
I tried to piece the evening together. Peter canceling, drowning my sorrows in bourbon after dragging out the photo album, Edward coming home, going to club with Edward… kissing Edward…
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Sleeping with Edward.
Fuck.
I bolted from the bed and barely made it to the toilet before I was losing the entire contents of my stomach. I heaved and heaved until there was nothing but bile coming up.
My memories were fuzzy and chunks of time were missing, but there was no mistaking. I had woken up in Edward's bed. I had had my cock buried in Edward's ass light night. What the fuck had happened? Edward didn't even bottom. And that was definitely the first time I had ever topped.
I felt sick. And not just physically. I loved Peter. I loved him, yet I had fucked around on him on our anniversary. God. What was I going to tell him? What could I have been thinking? That wasn't me. I wasn't the type of guy to screw around. I was the guy who wanted the romance, who wanted the commitment.
What the fuck had we been thinking? This was going to completely ruin mine and Edward's friendship.
I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for some Tylenol and downed a few with a glass of water. My head was pounding. I couldn't concentrate. Everything was fucked up. Everything. One drunken night, and I had completely fucked up the two relationships that meant the most to me.
I sat down on the toilet and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. If only this was some bad dream that I'd wake up from.
After drinking another glass of water, I turned on the shower, as hot as I could stand it. I stood under the spray and let the water cascade over my body, staying there until the temperature started to run cool. Once I was toweled off and dressed, I stumbled to the kitchen. I didn't think I could handle coffee, but maybe my stomach could deal with some toast.
I was sitting at the table, head in my hands, when I heard the back door open. Edward came into the kitchen, obviously returning from a run. He looked surprised to see me, then his face shifted into an expression I couldn't read. I had no idea what he was thinking.
He took off his coat and hung it by the door, tossed his keys on the counter and sat down in the chair next to me.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
I lifted up my head, all my anguish plain on my face, and asked, "What the fuck did we do last night?"
He stood up and went to the sink, filled a glass with water and drank it. He refilled it, pulled another glass out off the cabinet and filled it too, then brought them both back to the table, sliding the second one across to me.
"Here. Drink this. You look like shit," he said.
"I feel like shit."
I drank the water then rubbed my eyes.
"How am I going to tell Peter?" I asked. "This is so fucked up."
I felt Edward's hand on my thigh. "You don't have to tell him anything, if you don't want. We were both drunk. It didn't mean anything. We just got carried away. We can forget it ever happened."
Could I do that? Could I just pretend that I hadn't fucked around on my boyfriend with my best friend?
I lifted my face to look at Edward. "What about us? Did we completely fuck up our friendship?"
"Nothing could fuck up our friendship. Nothing. You and me? Nothing in the world could ever change that. Got it?"
I nodded, wanting with all my heart to believe that was true.
"I'm sorry, Jasper," he said next. "I'd never want to do anything to mess up your relationships with Peter. I know how you feel about him. I should never have let things get that far."
"You? It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You're not the one in the relationship."
"I… I know we're both at fault. But…well, you were already wasted by the time I got home. I should have… I should have been taking care of you…"
I looked up and was surprised to see his eyes welling up. I don't think I'd ever seen Edward upset to the point of tears.
"It's not your fault, Edward," I repeated. I buried my face in my hands again. "God, this is so fucked up."
"I'm sorry," he said again. His voice broke on the words.
"I can't think," I said. My head was still pounding and I wasn't sure I was going to keep down the toast. "I'm going to go back to bed for a few hours."
I could feel Edward's eyes following me as I left the room.
In the end I decided not to tell Peter. Edward was right; it was a one time drunken mistake. I didn't see any reason to hurt Peter, simply because I wanted to relieve my guilty conscience.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy. I couldn't just forget. The guilt ate and ate and ate at me. Peter did take me out later in the week. It was a perfect date. He was attentive, charming, the ideal boyfriend. When we got back to his place, he was all over me. This was normally how we ended our evenings, but my betrayal was too fresh in my mind for me to truly enjoy myself. So instead, I got down on my knees to suck him, and when he was panting and gripping my hair, beginning to lose control, I climbed on the bed, kneeling with my ass in the air for him to fuck me from behind. I couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.
He quickly prepared me and thrust in to me with a groan, telling me how good I felt. As always, he was a generous lover, making sure I got off with his agile hand wrapped around my cock. He came inside me, then flopped down on his back with a satisfied sigh and soon was asleep. I lay there for hours, wondering how I could live like this, keeping secrets after I had lost so much already from wanting to live without them.
I avoided getting together with Peter the next few weeks, claiming grad school was kicking my ass. When he asked me if anything was wrong, if I was mad at him about something, I lied even more, all the while feeling guilty about Peter thinking it was something he did, rather than knowing it was something I had done.
Things were awkward with Edward as well. No matter what he said about our friendship not changing, I didn't know how to act around him. That night was still fuzzy—I tried not to think about it at all—but I did have vague memories, more impressions really, that left me feeling unsettled. I avoided examining them too closely. I hoped with a little time, things would go back to normal between us.
After another month or so of dancing around things with Peter, snapping at him over stupid shit, things finally came to a head.
"Would you please tell me what the fuck I did?" he demanded. "Is it still that stupid Valentine's date? It seems like you've had permanent PMS since then. I fucking told you I had no choice; I had to work. And I tried to make it up to you. I thought we had a great time?"
I sunk into a chair, my elbows on the table, my hands in my hair. I had to tell him. Telling him might ruin everything, but not telling him was already doing the job.
"Yes, it's about Valentine's Day," I started.
"That's not fair," he cut me off. "I had to work."
I shook my head with a heavy sigh. "It's not that." I took a deep breath, steeling myself to tell him. "I slept with Edward that night."
I watched his face when I told him, seeing the surprise and something else. He looked uncomfortable. And unsure.
"Are you breaking up with me?" he asked.
"No, I'm not breaking up with you."
"Well," he said in a careful measured voice, "we never promised we'd be exclusive."
I was stunned. That was completely not the reaction I was expecting. What did he mean we'd never promised to be exclusive? We'd been practically living together for the past two years. I knew we had never really talked about any of this, but still. My mind was reeling at the implications.
"So… you're not upset?"
"Are you still seeing him?" he asked.
"What? No! He's like my brother."
"Right. Your brother who you have sex with." Peter tended toward sarcasm when he was angry.
"It wasn't like that," I protested. "We were drunk. It was one time."
He held up his hand. "I believe you," he said with a sigh.
A tense silence filled the room. He rubbed his hands over his face.
"What do you want me to say?" he asked.
"Have you been sleeping with other people?" I asked. From his reaction before, I thought I already knew the answer.
"A few times. Now and then," he said with another sigh.
"How many is a few?" I asked.
"Jasper…"
"How many?"
"I don't know. A half dozen maybe."
"Who?"
"They didn't mean anything, Jasper."
"Who?" I insisted.
"Randall. Charlotte. Maria once."
Could this entire conversation be even more bizarre?
"Charlotte and Maria? As in, girls?" I asked, my voice laced with incredulity.
"Yes, girls," he said with another touch of sarcasm. "You know I'm bisexual."
No, I actually didn't know Peter was bisexual. I was starting to think I didn't know anything about our relationship at all.
I stood up abruptly. "I think I'm gonna go. I need to think."
Peter grabbed my hand.
"Whoa. Wait a minute." He pulled me toward him and wrapped his arms around me.
"Don't leave," he said. "This doesn't have to be a big deal."
He tilted my chin up so that he could look in my eyes.
"You know how much I care about you, right?"
I nodded, even though I wished he'd actually say it for once.
"C'mon. Sit down with me. Let's talk."
I let him lead me over to the couch. He grabbed both my hands after we were seated.
"I'm okay with the Edward thing," he said. "You said it was just that one night, right? A one time drunken thing?"
I nodded again.
"You're so much younger than I am. Still in school. I know I was the first guy you'd even been with. I figured, you know, you'd want to have your fun. I guess we should have talked more, huh?"
"Is that what you were doing? Having your fun?" I knew I sounded bitter, but I was very hurt. I'd had no idea he was seeing anyone else.
He let go of my hands to rub his face again.
"I'm sorry, Jasper. I had no idea you wanted to be exclusive. I just assumed…
"Look," he continued. "Those others… it's not like what we have. That was just sex. You know you're the one who's important to me, right?"
I thought I knew that. Now I wasn't sure of anything. I wouldn't look at him.
"Hey," he said softly. He grabbed my chin again, gently turning my face toward his. "If you want us to be exclusive, I'm okay with that. More than okay with it. I think it's great."
I still didn't say anything.
"Is that what you want?" he asked.
I nodded again.
"Then that's what I want too."
He leaned over to kiss me. I let him.
"Will you stay tonight?"
I kissed him in answer.
He was extra attentive that night in bed, kissing every inch of me, worshipping my body, bringing me to the edge again and again with his hands and his mouth. He rimmed me for a longer time and more thoroughly than he ever had before, and when he penetrated me, we were face to face; I was held close while he whispered things in my ear that I wanted to hear.
February 14, 1994
I was sitting at the breakfast bar, eating my after school snack, telling my mom about my day.
"And we had a party, and we passed out valentines and ate candy in the shape of hearts."
I jumped down off my chair and ran over to my backpack, pulling out a big red heart cut out of construction paper.
"And look at the one Edward made me! It was bigger than any of the other ones in the whole class!"
Inside, in black marker, Edward had carefully written: Be my Valentine. Love, Edward.
"When we get older, Edward says we're going to get married."
I heard my mom's sharp intake of breath and looked up to see her staring in fear at the kitchen door. My father stood there, and I recognized the look on his face. The valentine dropped from my hands and fell to the floor. I stopped talking and stood as still as I could.
My mom stepped in front of me and said, "Sit down and finish your snack."
She left the room, pulling my father with her by the elbow. I stared at my juice feeling sick to my stomach as I heard them arguing in the other room.
"Not raising a little faggot…"
"Don't be ridiculous… seven years old…like brothers"
"Keep him away from that Cullen boy…"
"…just boys…like brothers…"
"No kid of mine…"
"…grown up together…like brothers… no idea what he's saying…"
"…see about that…"
My father and my mother were in the doorway again.
"Jasper, tell your father how you feel about your friend Edward," her eyes were pleading with me. I knew the fight had something to do with the valentine, but I wasn't sure what. I knew what was going to happen if I gave the wrong answer. I could see my dad's hands in fists at his sides. I thought back to the argument I had overheard and keyed in on the phrase my mom had repeated over and over.
"He's like my brother."
I could see Mom's shoulders relax and the relief on her face. I knew I had gotten the answer right.
My dad stared at me and I held still, not wanting to do anything else to upset him. Then he turned and left the room without saying anything else.
My mom picked the valentine Edward had given me off the floor and crumpled it up, throwing it in the trash. I took a bite of my snack and tried not to cry.
"Honey, boys can't get married to each other. Only boys and girls can get married. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"You can't say things like that about Edward. You boys are like brothers. Brothers can't get married to each other. Okay?"
"Okay," I whispered.
"Now finish your snack, and you can go watch a television show."
I could see her hands shaking as she nervously puttered around the kitchen, and I knew it was a very bad thing I had said about me and Edward getting married, even if I wasn't sure why.
February 14, 2006
"You and Alice have plans tonight?" Edward asked as he flopped down on the bed in our dorm room.
I was at the desk, surfing the 'net on my laptop. I knew this conversation would come up eventually.
"No. We're not really seeing each other any more."
"You're not? When did that happen?"
"A while ago."
"And you didn't think to mention it to your best friend?"
The truth was, Alice and I had always only ever been friends, even if I had tried pretending it was more years ago. It was convenient for me to let my dad and everyone else think otherwise, and she generously played along.
Once I was at school and away from him, and wasn't forced to constantly assert my heterosexuality, Alice and I had naturally drifted apart. She had easily made new friends at college and I certainly wasn't going to get in the way of her finding someone more suitable to date.
"Sorry. I guess I thought you already knew."
"What happened?" He sat up and had his hands clasped in front of him, elbows on his knees as he stared at me intently. There was something about the way he was looking at me that triggered a flash of understanding.
He knew. He knew, and he was giving me an opportunity to tell him.
I glanced away. "We just wanted different things."
"You know," he said carefully, "if you ever need to talk about… different things… or if you wanted to discuss things with… other people… you know I'm here for you, right?"
"Yeah, I know," I whispered. "Thanks."
He waited, but when it became obvious that I wasn't going to say anything else, he said, "Well, since you don't have plans, you want to go grab a couple of beers?"
"Sure. That sounds good."
February 14, 2011
"What are you and Peter planning for tonight?" Edward asked.
I looked up from where I was sitting on the couch reading.
"We're supposed to go out to dinner, then dancing later." I gave a little laugh. "I keep expecting his call to tell me he has to cancel. We've yet to ever actually go out on Valentine's Day."
He hesitating, standing there, awkwardly running his hand through his hair.
I looked at him questioningly.
"Um, is everything okay between you and Peter?" he asked.
"What? Why do you ask that?"
"You've just spent a lot more time at home lately." He shook his head. "Not that I'm complaining, and not that it's any of my business."
"You're one to talk." I couldn't remember the last time Edward had gone out, let alone saw a guy stumbling out of his bedroom in the morning.
"I told you. Med school's a lot harder than I expected."
I let it drop. He obviously didn't want to talk about it. I had watched Edward as he had gradually become more withdrawn and reclusive. I was worried about him. He was acting as if he were depressed, but he refused to talk about it with me, no matter how many times I tried to broach the subject.
"Peter and I are fine," I finally answered. "It's just… I've got a lot of things on my mind. I needed some space to think."
It had been kind of a rocky year for me and Peter. After the night we agreed to be exclusive, I started examining every aspect of our relationship. Exclusivity should have been a big step forward for us; instead, I felt as if we had taken a giant step back, since it was something I had thought we had had all along.
Initially, I had done my best to be the best boyfriend and partner I could be. While I recognized that Peter forgave me for sleeping with Edward, the truth was, while he may not have considered us exclusive, I had; I had been the unfaithful one. I had cheated, not him, even if he had actually slept with more people than I had.
I didn't complain when he had to work late or cancel plans. I gave a lot of head. When he'd roll over after we made love and would immediately fall asleep lying flat on his back, I tried not to think about the one memory from that Valentine's night that had stuck with me, clear as day—being held tightly, legs tangled, arms wrapped round each other.
Of course the more I tried not to think about it, the more I craved it. Although Peter had said all the right things to me when we had made love that night, he hadn't ever said them again. It wasn't his style.
I revisited that disturbing fleeting thought I had had when I looked at the photo album of my family, when the picture of my dad briefly reminded me of Peter.
They were alike in many ways. Apart from his attentiveness in bed, Peter was not very demonstrative—definitely not a talk about your feelings kind of guy. My dad was the opposite of affectionate, and I couldn't ever remember a time when he had actually told me he loved me.
Peter tended toward OCD behavior and liked everything to be just so. I found that aspect of his personality easy to accommodate, as my dad's military background made him organized and disciplined, and the household I grew up in functioned much the same way.
Not to mention the physical resemblance: they were both tall, dark, and handsome. I had inherited my mother's light eyes and blond hair.
I wished I had never taken psychology as an undergrad when I began to wonder if my attachment to Peter stemmed in part from a desire to finally receive the approval and affection I was denied from my father.
I finally decided that even if there was some underlying truth to the idea, it didn't make my feelings for Peter any less real. I loved him. I think I had fallen in love with him that very first night.
Of course that line of thought had me questioning how quickly we got involved. Did I fall so hard and fast because it was the first time another guy actually had his mouth on my cock? Would I have fallen in love with anyone I slept with that night?
When I tried to look at our relationship objectively, it was obvious that my ideas about it and Peter's ideas about it were at odds. I wondered if I had convinced myself there was more there than there actually was, so that I could justify that losing my family had been a worthwhile sacrifice.
The more unsettled my thoughts made me, the more I craved comfort and familiarity. I found myself spending more and more time at the apartment with Edward, even if we were awkward and uncomfortable around each other at first. Eventually, things did go back to normal. Well, normal except for Edward's moodiness and depression.
I finally got the courage to ask him if it had anything to do with us sleeping together, but he insisted it was the pressure of Med school. Nothing more. I didn't believe him, but if he didn't want to talk to me about it, there wasn't really anything I could do.
He had gotten worse since Christmas, and I felt partially responsible. Peter had actually invited me home, to meet his parents. I was excited, finally feeling that our relationship was moving forward. It was the kind of thing I had always wanted from him—a commitment toward the future, something tangible to show that I was important to him. When I told Edward, I could tell he was disappointed. For the last several years, I had spent Christmas with him and his parents. I felt torn between the two of them, but there wasn't really a choice for me; of course I was going to spend Christmas with my boyfriend's family.
The funny thing was I missed Edward the entire time, and I couldn't wait to get home. Peter's family was great, and the visit was nice, but I felt more like a guest than family.
"What kind of things?" Edward asked. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Asks the guy who won't talk about anything."
"Whatever," he said, with a roll of his eyes.
"It's nothing, really. Just the same old stuff."
"Like what?"
"I just thought things would be different after Christmas. But here I am, waiting around for Peter to call, to find out if we're still on for tonight."
"Well, if he cancels, you know you've always got me," Edward said with a smile. For a minute, I could see that spark, the Edward of old who didn't walk around with a cloud of gloom and doom over his head.
I smiled. "Yeah, I know."
A warm glow spread through my stomach as we shared a moment of understanding. Edward was always going to be there for me, no matter what, and I'd be there for him, always.
My cell phone rang. Edward walked to the kitchen while I spoke with Peter.
"Hey, we're good to go for tonight. And I've got news. I asked to be taken off the online game and put on a PC product. I'll still have some deadlines here and there, but it won't be the crazy real time shit I've dealt with for so long with these insane episodic updates."
"No shit. Really?"
"Yeah. I'll have more of a normal schedule. It will be a lot easier to spend time together."
"That's great."
"Now get your ass over here, so I can take you out and celebrate."
I laughed. "On my way."
"See you in a bit."
I hung up the phone, lost in thought.
Edward walked back in the room. "Peter?"
"Yeah. We're on for tonight."
"I'm glad it worked out for you."
I didn't reply, still thinking.
"Jasper?"
"Hmmm? Oh. Sorry. He's changing his work schedule so we can spend more time together."
"That's good, right? Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yeah, it's what I wanted."
"I'm happy for you."
"What are you going to do tonight?"
"I'll probably stay in. Get some studying done."
"You're working too hard, Edward. You should go out for a while. Have a little fun."
"I'll think about it."
I stood up. For some reason I was reluctant to leave.
"Well," I said, "I'll see you later."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Jasper."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Edward."
On the way over to Peter's my mind was spinning. I should be excited about Peter's news. It was exactly what I had wanted, another tangible sign that he wanted a future with me. And for once we were actually going out on Valentine's Day.
I should be excited, but instead, I was feeling disappointed that I wasn't spending the evening with Edward after all.
I found a spot to pull over and stopped the car. I needed to think.
All sorts of memories of me and Edward were running through my head. When I stopped to consider it, I couldn't remember a single Valentine's Day that I hadn't spent with him. Even all the way back to when we were seven years old and it was ingrained in me that I shouldn't ever think of him as anything other than a brother.
Another memory came into my head, and this time I didn't push it away as I had every other time it flitted near my consciousness: the two of us completely wasted, swaying together on the dance floor, bodies pressed close.
"Edward, will you be my Valentine?"
"I've always been yours, Jasper," he said. "Always."
Every moment of my life shifted and reorganized itself in a blinding moment of clarity.
I restarted the car and pulled back out onto the road, heading toward Peter's.
He opened the door, and pulled me in for a kiss, his hand hidden behind his back. When we pulled apart, he produced a long stemmed red rose, with a "Happy Anniversary, babe."
My heart sank in anticipation of what I was about to do.
His smile faded.
"Fuck.," he said. "I knew it. I knew I fucked it all up, right from the start, didn't I? It's all just a little too little, a little too late, isn't it?"
He didn't wait for me to answer, but walked over to sit on the couch, rubbing his face with his hands.
I sat down beside him.
"Should I cancel our reservations?" he asked.
"Yes. I just came to talk and to pick up my things."
He was quiet, then he started speaking. "I've always known the kinds of things you wanted. Some of that stuff… it's just not me, you know?"
I did know.
"I was willing to try, though."
I felt my throat closing up. I didn't know what to say.
"Is it Edward?" he asked
"Yeah," I whispered. "I think it always has been."
He nodded.
"I think you should go, because any second I'm going to get sarcastic and bitchy and mean and I don't want us to end that way. I'll get your stuff together and call you soon, okay?"
"Okay."
He walked me to the door. As I turned to say good bye, he pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing me hard and burying his face in my hair.
When he pulled away, I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.
"Go on. Get out of here," he said, with a pained smile.
"Peter…" I started.
"I'll be fine," he cut in. "I'm too old for you anyway."
I reached for him and gave him another hard hug back, then I turned and left, getting into my car and heading toward home.
When I returned to the apartment, I was surprised that Edward wasn't there. I had suggested he go out, but I hadn't expected him to actually do so. He certainly hadn't the last dozen or so times I had suggested it.
I grabbed my keys and got in the car again, heading to the club.
I scanned the crowd, looking for Edward, but saw no signs of him.
"Have you seen Edward?" I yelled to the bartender over the noise of the music.
He shook his head no.
I left the club and walked the block or so to another bar we frequented.
My heart started racing when I saw the head of familiar reddish brown hair. He was sitting on a stool, leaning on the edge of the bar, arms folded in front of him, shoulders hunched, head hanging low.
I slid into the seat next to him.
"Hey. Can I buy you a drink?" I asked.
He looked up, shocked. I winced at the dead look in his eyes.
"Jasper?" He looked around. "What are you doing here? Where's Peter?"
"We broke up."
His expression livened as that spark suddenly appeared.
"You broke up," he repeated. "What happened?"
"I told him I was in love with someone else."
He came back to life as a smile started blooming across his face.
"You told him you were in love with someone else," he repeated again. He was grinning now, his smile lighting up the entire room.
Then he leaned back away from me.
"Wait," he frowned with mock concern. "It's me, right?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, it's you, you idiot."
He laughed, grabbing me and pulling me toward him. His hand was in my hair and his lips were on mine, and it was perfect. So fucking perfect. Hot and sweet and home and love. When his tongue slid against mine, I thought I would melt onto the floor.
He pulled away, and I stared at him, dazed.
"Just checking," he said before he kissed me again.
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