QColumn: A Gay In The Life – Brotherly Love

QColumn: A Gay In The Life - Brotherly Love
Brotherly Love
By Steve Prince

“Door’s open!” Peter’s voice echoed from behind the door.
I placed my hand on an old brass doorknob and turned. Before I walked in the apartment, the nauseating smell of beer and pot webbed around my face, making me cough.
“Sorry about that, bro,” Peter said exhaling a thick waft of smoke.
“God damn,” I waved my hand in front of my face, “turn on a fan, dude.”
As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit apartment, I understood why Peter’s voice echoed earlier. The placed looked nothing like a home, it looked more like a temporary residence. There were still open boxes cluttered with CD’s, books, and nick-knacks. On the kitchen counter sat an array of fast-food bags and pizza boxes. On the whole, the place looked a mess and smelled like a nasty frat house.
My gaze fell on Peter sitting on the couch. He looked terrible. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were red because of the pot or lack of sleep.
I walked towards him. Shakily, he stood up and clasped my hand and drew me in for a hug.
“Good to see ya man.” He generously patted my back.
“You too,” I replied. My mind scanned itself, unable to find anything even remotely helpful to say. I still didn’t know why Peter wanted to see me so badly.


“You wanna beer?” He stepped towards the kitchen. His gait reminded me of an injured thoroughbred. A champion defeated.
“Sure,” I replied, sitting on the couch. “So what’s going on man?” I didn’t want to sound too concerned, even though I was. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, man,” Peter said, his voice sounding bridled and fake. He handed me a beer and sat beside me. It was then that I realized he was wearing pajama pants. I wondered how long he’d been wearing them. This was definitely not Peter. Peter’s hygiene teeters on OCD. He usually showers three times a day and changes clothes twice. The man sitting beside me looked as if he had slept in the pants and t-shirt for a couple of days.
“You sure?” I said cautiously. “You didn’t sound great over the phone.”
“Nah, man… it’s cool,” Peter’s voice faded into his thoughts.
I sat there, listening to the traffic flutter by outside.
“Well,” I said interrupting the silence, “what do you want to do?”
“Let’s just hang.” Peter took a gulp of his beer. “Catch up.”
“Cool,” I said automatically. Actually I was anything but cool. Something was going on with Peter and not talking about just made me more anxious. It really felt that there was an elephant in the room. A big ass, rainbow-colored, glittered elephant in the room…with a tiara.
“What have you been up to lately,” I asked. “I haven’t seen you since my birthday party.”
The Peter I saw then was much different. He was happy. In fact he seemed very happy.
The mention of my birthday party seemed to shock him back to reality.
“We broke up,” he said with finality. He took a gulp of beer.
Huh? Peter was dating someone?
“Do, what?” I asked.
“Me and Rachel,” Peter said.
“Who’s Rachel?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” he quipped.
I felt confused. Peter was giving me as little as information as possible.
“Sorry, but… give me some back story here?” I implored.
“We’ve only been dating for two months,” Peter spat out between a swallow of beer, “I told her to move on anyway.”
“Where did you meet?” I asked.
“At Temple,” he said flatly. Peter paused. “You know, I thought I did everything right this time.”
“What did you do wrong?” I asked. I hated all this cryptic shit. Just get to the point dammit!
“Well, I didn’t do anything right.” He stood up, beer in hand, and began to pace the room.
“For once I met a girl at Temple. A girl my family liked. A girl that was pretty,” he turned to face me as if trying to convince me, “she was really pretty, Steve. She was from a good family. She was smart, successful, and she couldn’t keep her hands off me. And she was so pretty. A gorgeous woman who can’t NOT touch me.”
Well, who could blame her for that?, I thought. I hated that—for as disheveled as Peter looked—he remained ruggedly handsome. God, why did his cock have to be so big? Ah, what a waste.
I snapped myself back into reality.
“Well,” I fumbled, “that’s good that she was attracted to you.”
“That’s the problem,” Peter snapped, “why can’t I find a girl who wants to wait for all the physical stuff. Fuck, I feel like a chick sometimes!”
“Well,” I responded, “you’re twenty-nine years old. A lot of people have already fucked around… a lot.” I added, thinking about myself.
Unaffected, Peter launched back into his tirade. “Finally she looked at me and gave the ultimatum, ‘either I’m into her all the way or not’ she says. Well, excuse-fucking-me for being a gentleman.”
By now, Peter was yelling loudly. “I just don’t fucking get it! What do I have to do? What do I fucking have to do?”
“You don’t have to do anything.” I said my voice beginning to compete with his.
“Oh yeah,” Peter wailed, “then fucking tell that to my bastard father. And tell my mother that her precious baby son can’t put up with this any longer. In fact, fuck them. FUCK THEM!”
I stood up. “Calm down, man.”
“I CAN’T,” Peter shot back.
“Well, you fucking better, because I came here to hang out with my best friend. My brother, that I love. Not to be yelled at for some shit that I DIDN’T DO!”
Peter’s eyes looked up and locked on my own. Like a submissive dog, he deflated and sank back on the couch.
I stood there catching my breath. I didn’t realize my chest was heaving from the yelling.
I sat beside him on the couch.
“I don’t know what to do any more,” Peter’s words stumbled awkwardly from his mouth like a crippled army.
“You don’t have to know right now,” I said. He looked at me.
“I’m so fucked up,” he said staring in my eyes, “Thanks for being here. I love ya, brother.”
I kissed him.
Like a snake Peter shot from the couch.
“Steve, what the fuck man,” he voice was too shocked to yell.
Why did I just do that? Why? God dammit, Steve! Me and my fucking terrible timing.
I sat there, too scared to get up, “I’m sorry. I just…I mean…that was not appropriate. I uh…”
Peter lunged forward. I thought he was going to hit me. In one swift motion, his hands yanked my face upward to his lips.
And he kissed me back.
In my excitement, I softly bit the bottom of his mouth, tasting him, his warm tears, and joy.
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder
The Present

Jul 18, 2009 By paperbagwriter 17 Comments