Tough Love

Part 4: Please Just Talk

Brian's POV

Images start flooding my mind; some that I know, and some that make absolutely no sense. All of them were of that night behind the bar, and the panic swiftly replaces the joy I had felt mere seconds before. "Sal, stop," I whisper back to him.

"What was that, my love?" He nibbles on my ear as his hand inches down my body. I grab his wrist and accidentally squeeze a little too hard as I yank it away from me. "OW FUCK!" Of course that was his bad hand.

"I said stop!" Pulling back and looking at me, I can see the confusion and hurt in his eyes, and I feel bad because the love and lust are now gone. I can't stop thinking about that night and my breathing picks up as I remember the pain and sorrow etched onto her face as she's forced to do one of the most sinful things on this earth to me. "Get off of me!"

I feel Sal shoot up and stand at the end of the bed in his boxer shorts; hurt, worried, and favoring his injured hand. "What the fuck is going on?!" he yells back at me.

I just barely stop the tears from overflowing. "I'm sorry! I wasn't - I couldn't - I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry!"

"Then what did you mean to say? Because you've avoided having sex with me for a long time, Brian. Why? Am I not good enough for you anymore?" He pauses and then his emotions turn into anger. "Do you want her?!"

"What? NO! Sal, it's not that I don't want to have sex with you, I can't!"

He throws his hands up in the air as he heads towards the bathroom. "Wow, that's much better, thanks!" Upon reaching the bathroom, he enters it and slams the door, resulting in a flinch from me. His blind jealousy hurts. A lot. Especially considering the things she and I have recently been through.

"Can't you be a little more understanding?" I call through the door.

The toilet flushes and the sink runs for a bit before he finally flings the door open again, still very pissed off. "How do you expect me to be understanding when you don't help me understand a damn thing?! I don't know what's going on in your head, and you won't tell me! So I'm sorry if I'm an inconsiderate asshole for trying to have sex with my boyfriend!"

"You know what, you are an inconsiderate asshole! Why the fucking hell would I be depressed for weeks when you actually cheated on me, and then turn around to do the same thing to you?!"

"Well what else am I supposed to think when you reject me like that?!?" That question stumps me. My brain is screaming at me to talk to him like a couple should, but my mouth refuses to form the words necessary to explain my feelings. I've never been good at that anyways, let alone when something that traumatizing happens. So what do I do? I don't say anything; instead grabbing my pants and shirt from the top of his dresser and getting dressed. "Now what are you doing?"

"I'm going home."

"What - no you're not! Talk to me, Brian! Do you even want me anymore?!" he asks, very exasperated at this point.

"Of course I do! I love you to death, and I don't want her! When you finally understand that and trust me, call me." I quickly make my way downstairs and out the front door before he can say anything else, not wanting to face his harsh accusations any longer.

Upon arriving at my house I sigh heavily when I see the boarded up broken window and all of the caution tape. Not being allowed to go through my living room due to the police and analysts being everywhere investigating shit, I make my way around the back and through my back door, which puts me in my kitchen. I find my cats upstairs under my bed; looking petrified from all of the strange people and noises downstairs.