THE GAYER IT FEELS THE BETTER YOUR POSTURE 3

This part ended unfinished.

I sat at the bar for what is now the third time. It’s full of people, being a Saturday evening. Some are here for business, some are here for dates and some are here to just get drunk and forget everything for a couple of hours. I’m not really sure where I stand. All I know is that Anthony is going to be here soon, and he’s wearing the tie he wore last time we met. I’m going to have to pretend I’m not so distracted looking at him while we talk.

I order a drink, red wine (Anthony has cursed me with rich people's food and drink), and check my phone to see a couple of useless notifications from twitter and Instagram. When it arrives I thank the bartender and take a sip and my nose scrunches up in protest to the disgusting liquid entering my mouth. How anyone can like this abomination of a drink is a mystery to me. But it’s going to impress Anthony so I suck it up and place it back down on the counter.

He soon arrives and sits next to me, moving his barstool very close to mine and leaning on the bar, smiling at me. He has the top button of his shirt undone and his tie is slightly askew. At first I believe this was on purpose to mess with me but as I look up at his face he looks tired. Far too tired for it to seem healthy. “Anthony! You look… exhausted.” I say, trying to keep my voice down a little to blend in with the murmuring going on across the rest of the bar so as to not let everyone hear us. He frowns a little and leans forwards, his head now on my shoulder. “I need to tell you something.” Even his voice sounds tired, being quiet and a little hoarse, like he’d been crying. I reach a hand into his hair, gently rubbing it as I speak, making my voice much softer. “Yeah? What’s up?”

He lifts his head, locking eyes with me. He has a very serious look on his face as he begins to speak. “I don’t know if you have experienced anything similar, but… I have had many previous partners which didn’t work out for me.” He sounds extremely nervous to talk about this, as if he thinks I’ll judge him. He’s also staring at me as if he expected more of a reaction to that statement alone. I just smile reassuringly and he seems to take that as a sign to continue. “Yes, I have had many partners, but I never actually… felt anything towards them.” This statement seems to strike a chord with me, but I try my best not to show it. I need to be there for him, not question myself. “I never cared about them, as people. And I tried to, I really tried to. But I just couldn’t.” His voice has gotten progressively shakier as he’s spoken and I grasp his hand in mine to try and comfort him. “I don’t want this to end that way. I couldn’t forgive myself for hurting you like that.”

I grip his hand a little tighter, running my thumb over it slowly. He glanced away, staring into my drink and refusing to make eye contact with me, so I wrapped my arms around him in a big hug. “You don’t need to worry about a thing, Anthony. I know for sure that you won’t hurt me.” I whisper into his ear in the softest voice I can muster. He hugs me back and burrows his head into my neck. I feel a couple of stray tears fall from his eyes and roll onto my shoulder so I hug him even tighter. He eventually pulls away, wiping his eyes with his hand and sighing, a small smile playing on his face. “Thank you, Sam.” He said in a slightly more hoarse voice before leaning back on the bar, resting his head on his hand.

I watch Anthony’s eyes glance from the surface of the bar to me occasionally as we sit in a comfortable silence for a little while. He orders his own glass of red wine and obviously looks extremely glamorous while drinking it. I find my gaze lingering on him in that tie, and I find myself thinking how he’d look even better withou- “Sam? You’re… staring.” I look up and Anthony has a slightly smug look on his face, like he knows exactly what I’ve been thinking. I feel the heat rise in my face as I try to come up with an excuse, but I’m immediately interrupted again. “I guess I know I look amazing now, don’t I?” He chuckles at both me and his own joke and I just scowl at him, taking another sip of my disgusting drink.

After a while the silence starts to get to me and I realise something. We know nothing about each other. We barely talk, and when we do it’s not exactly an emotional affair. It’s just about if we’re going to kiss or if we’re going to fuck or some other arbitrary romantic gesture. But, to be honest, I have nothing to say, and I don’t really know if I’d want to say anything in the first place.