The Gig Pt4

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"I'm so sorry," London kept his voice low as he spoke into Marbell's hair. He'd cooked dinner for his family, but when he went upstairs to call everyone down, he'd found his husband sleeping in their bedroom, and what crushed him even more, was he'd been able to see streaks of dried tears on the older man's cheeks. Every bone in his body had been so frustrated earlier, and he'd gone and taken it out on Marbell. He hated being angry, especially towards the man he loved, but he hadn't been able to hold it in earlier, and now...here they were.

It was passed nine at night, so the kids were all sleeping at this hour, all of them having taken to their own rooms tonight, and since Marbell was already sleeping, London figured it was time to retire as well. He was sat on the bed beside his husband's sleeping form, nose tucked into the side of Marbell's hair. "I shouldn't have yelled at you," he uttered, "I know you love me, I just want you to know how much I love, too. I wish you could – I wish you could just see that clearer."

London swallowed the sorrowful lump in his throat when he felt a tender hand touch the back of his head, and when he opened his eyes and sat up just a little, he looked down into Marbell's weary light brown eyes. He'd taken off his glasses before laying down, but at this proximity, he could see the tattooed man perfectly. "I'm sorry," London apologized again, wanting more than anything right now to get that point across. "I'm so sorry, Marbell." London pushed himself into his husband's arms when the older man sat up as well, his embrace so tight, it was like he was trying to squeeze them together to become one. "I hate when we fight. I made you cry."

"No, no," Marbell shook his head, voice calm as ever, and when he sat back out of London's arms, he crossed his legs and let his head hang in shame. "I made myself cry. I know I can be frustrating sometimes, and when you–."

"Don't justify me screaming at you," London said, "You didn't deserve that. I just feel like..." he paused a moment, "...I always feel like I'm doing something wrong when you feel these things, whatever they are, and you never speak up about it, so there's nothing I can do to fix it." A shade of remorse and heavy guilt shined in London's dark brown eyes, fighting back the tears that were trying to surface. "Whatever it is I do that makes you feel this way, I'm sorry."

Seeing London this way, emotionally vulnerable, wasn't something Marbell was used to. This muscled, proud, tattooed human had always been so headstrong since they met, so confident in himself, and while he could put on the most intimidating performance, the London Marbell had come to know all these years was rarely this way. Whenever he was feeling regretful, down in any way, his voice sounded less confident, his stature seemed to diminish some, and Marbell could see in his gentle gaze that London was truly hurt.

The older man then laid down again, placing his head in London's lap as he hugged his arms around his waist. "I'm telling you, it's not your fault. It's always me and my issues, the trivial anxiety I have whenever you're around...beautiful women."

Sat with his back against the headboard of the bed, London stroking his fingers through the top of Marbell's auburn hair. "What are you talking about? I'm just working with these women, Marbell, they don't mean anything to me."

"I know," Marbell turned his face into the side of London's thigh. He was in only a pair of black joggers now, shirtless as he'd gotten ready for bed. "But sometimes I think you might look at them, and...admire them, think they're hot or whatever. Always knowing that you're – that you're bisexual just gets to me more often than not. And before you say anything, I know. I know what you think about the way I look, but – all of the confidence you give me just goes out the window when I least expect it."

Listening to Marbell explain himself formed a crack in London's sturdy heart. So, it was his sexuality that made his husband this way? And suddenly he completely understood. There was always going to be that opinion about bisexual people that some gay and straight people thought. A bi girl could be in a relationship with another girl, and her partner could easily feel like her girlfriend would choose a guy over her someday, and vice versa. Even while there could be heaps of love and affection present, that worry had the possibility of popping up out of nowhere. All his life, being bisexual hadn't been a matter of choice or preference. He never chose to be gay sometimes, and then opt for being straight another. It didn't work that way for him. He'd grown up being attracted to both genders on an equal plane, so to think him being, well, himself was what set Marbell down paths of insecurity really chipped away at London's heart.

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