This is a Not-So-Short Story, pt. 11
For all the previous installments, go here.
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He nods his head when he thinks the last bit. It may have taken years, but he finally has come to terms with what his heart has always wanted. He could finally admit that he was equally drawn to men as he was to women.
He sighs as his train pulls into the station. He pulls out his phone and deftly pokes out a message as he enters the train.
“I’m done. I’ve told her everything, now the ball’s in her court. I can’t wait to come home to you.”, is what the message reads.
He pushes the send button and takes a moment to look at the wallpaper on his phone. A picture that he managed to keep from their high school days. He falls back into the seat behind him.
“How can my mind be so conflicted and leave things so up in the air… and yet, I feel so content?”, he thinks, “I didn’t think… I didn’t realize that he was that dear to me.”
He bites his lip. He closes the phone.
“And, here I am.”, he continues to think, “I’m happy even though I might lose the woman I love and my family.”
He shakes his head again as he zones out on the train. He thinks of all the wonderful things he’s been able to do recently. He thinks about everything that brought them to this moment.
“What would have happened if he did push away?”, he thinks.
He looks up at the ceiling of the train as he ponders that statement. He shakes his head.
“That’s absurd. I’m just happy that my risk of kissing him would lead me here. It makes me…”, he begins to think.
He quickly opens his phone and taps out another message.
“Are you home and it will just be you and I tonight?”, the message reads.
He leans his head back to rest on the seat behind him. He sighs as he stares aimlessly at the ceiling. He simply sits there, feeling the train undulating underneath him. He listens to the music of the train hurriedly rushing down the tracks. That sound becomes meshed with the tone that he’s assigned to his boyfriend.
He shakes his head, attempting to dislodge the cobwebs starting to form by the rhythmic pulse of the train. As he does so, he grabs his phone and looks at it.
“I’m off tonight, and home. What do you have in mind?”, his boyfriend asks him.
An evil grin crosses his face.
“Oh, what don’t I want to do to you…”, he thinks.
His mind starts to wander through all the delightfully naughty and dirty things that he longs to do. He pictures his boyfriend’s smooth, well-muscled chest. Kissing and caressing his nipples with his tongue. The hard yet soft feel as he kisses his boyfriend’s bare stomach… And from there.
His mind continues to wander as he taps out his message.
“I wanted some time alone with you.”, the messages says.
He hits send and puts the phone in his pocket. He bites his bottom lip as he thinks of everything they’ve done together. How far they’ve come and how much they’ve changed. The only constant is their love for each other.
“God, I can’t wait to get home…”, he whispers, “I want him so bad right now.”
As he continued to think of all the things he wanted to do to him… How badly he wanted to fuck him, how badly he wanted to be fucked by him. Such dirty thoughts streaming through his mind. He was so aroused and anxious. He could hardly wait to get back to Shinjuku.
“Maybe this will be like when we were at that hotel in high school…”, he thinks.
Those desperately naughty times back in his boyfriend’s hotel room he was paying for by the week. Before he knew that his boyfriend was a host. As disgusting as that should be for him, it simply doesn’t matter anymore. Why did it matter to him in the first place? Why did he feel so disgusted when he saw him at that club when he went with the girl he was forced to date?
That doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not important. Letting such petty things like a job come between this, between him and his boyfriend.
“Maybe I used him being a host as an excuse to make what I was doing easier.”, he thought.
(To be continued in 2 weeks)