Responsible for myself

01/27/2010

I fucked up. And Luke was pissed. He had this pissed off look on his face for a good hour before I got the guts to go and apologise to him. He was in the pantry, frowning at a can of diced tomatoes in one hand and then at an almost empty bag of pasta in the other.
“We have some… there…” I pointed towards the back of the lowest shelf, not daring to ask him to move so I could get it for him.
“What? Where.” He didn’t turn around to look at me, and his voice was harsh and forced, as if being spoken through gritted teeth.
“At the back of the bottom… thingy… Down the bottom. Can I… May I get it for you?” He huffed and stepped out of the doorway and I went in and retrieved the unopened bag of pasta, handing it to him tentatively.
“Right. Thanks.” He threw both bags onto the kitchen bench and slammed the can down next to them. My apology hung in my throat like a heavy lump as he disappeared up the stairs with loud, angry footsteps. I felt my cheeks turn red as I followed him up there and into our bedroom.

“I’m really.., really sorry, Luke.”
“Why are you apologising to me? You should be apologising to yourself.”
“Yeah but… we’d arranged for you to pick me up every day… and I… went home on the bus instead… And I… I don’t know...” I had skipped a scheduled session with one of my therapists today and I felt fucking guilty as shit – that’s why. I could feel him seething with disappointment – that’s fucking why.
“Bull-fucking-shit. Doesn’t matter what our arrangements were. You wronged yourself more than anything. I’m pissed off because you still don’t fucking realise how serious this is.”
“I do… I do… I’m sorry…”
“Why are you FUCKING apologising?”
“I don’t know‼‼ Jesus fucking christ‼ I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.” My hands were burning, my fingers tingling, like I wanted to punch or cut something. I just sat my ass on the floor instead and put my head in my hands. Silence. I pulled my t-shirt up over my face to hide more, feeling like a fucking child.
“I wanted… I wanted to get us both tested for every STD on the planet and… I wanted to screw you without a condom… and… I was really excited to tell you that… I thought you’d like it because it’d be like… I’ve never fucked bareback before and I want to do it with you because I love you and I was excited to tell you that and you just fucking went and did something stupid and self-destructive and how can I, how can I… I can’t let you think you can get away with doing that sort of thing. …Look. You’re kidding yourself if you think you can get away with missing appointments. You need to go to those appointments. But I’m not going to scare you into doing it, Aaron. So don’t apologise to me. You only answer to yourself.”

I pulled my shirt down from my face and stared at him, flabbergasted. He crouched down in front of me. “I love you. I want you to do what’s right,” he said, frowning. I nodded slowly, and he stroked my hair.
“I wish it would all just go away…”
“I wish it would too, angel.”

I sighed, defeated.
“Can we please fuck now?”
“Ok.”
“And,” I began, as we both rose and started undressing, “you still want to get tested together and do it bareback?”
“Yeah. What do you think?”
I nodded.
And minutes later, once we were fucking and all was forgotten, I was shouting, “yes‼ I want you to come in my ass‼‼”