I didn’t talk to Jordan for days. I couldn’t. I meant it when I told him it was a mistake. We got carried away. I played along with his game and let him “seduce” me, but it was meaningless. Just a game.

Still, I couldn’t get my mind off him. Everything at the studio was so tense. I’m sure Isaac and Taylor noticed that something was wrong with me, but they know better than to ask. If we spent too much time prying into each others’ mood swings – especially Taylor’s – we’d never finish an album. And Taylor was having one hell of a mood swing. He barely said a word to either of us all week. Somehow, despite how odd it is, it didn’t really interrupt the flow. If anything, it was easier to work without him pulling us off in a thousand different hyperactive directions. So I didn’t question it. I was too busy trying not to let my own raging emotions get in the way.

It was so hard for me to even think the word gay, but it wouldn’t leave my mind. My stomach turned every time I remembered Jordan telling me that’s what I must be. As much as it pained me to admit it, I could understand why he would think that. But people have cyber sex for all kinds of reasons that have nothing to do with them really wanting to have sex that way or with that person. And yet… if I hadn’t seen something in that him that I trusted, something that made me comfortable with him for company, such as it was, I wouldn’t have done it.

No matter how much time I spent thinking about all of it, it still didn’t make sense in my mind. So I shoved all those thoughts aside and tried to go on about my life the same as I did before Jordan waltzed into it like he owned the place.

After a little more than a week had passed, I finally felt like I was getting back to normal, or as close to normal as I ever am. I went to work, I came home, I sometimes went to the garage to actually paint. The one thing I didn’t do was go online to talk to Jordan. And for a while, things seemed to be going just fine.

Of course Kate just had to fuck things up, although I’m sure she would have said the problem is me. In her eyes, it seemed every problem was me. I came home late from the studio, as I often did, and she was right there at the door, ready to complain about my dirty socks on the floor. Then she complained that I wasn’t there to help her cook dinner, even though she usually bans me from the kitchen for all of our safety, anyway. Then I wasn’t paying enough attention to the kids, even though I’m quite sure Shepherd was happy sitting on the couch watching me play the new Stars Wars game while Junia was off in her own little world in her playpen.

At some point, I couldn’t take it anymore. I started to see red and I just exploded at her. Angry words flowed from my mouth without any sort of thought. But Kate fired right back with her own. Once we run out of insults for each other, we went our own separate ways and sulked. We didn’t speak for the rest of the evening, which was a nice break. By the time the kids are asleep and we’re both ready for bed, we’ve had enough time apart to calm down a little.

We both knew what was next. It was a running joke that our favorite kind of sex was make up sex, but it’s not really a joke. The truth is that it’s practically the only kind of sex we had. We fight, then we fuck, then we go back to sort of existing in the same space until the next fight. It’s a pattern I don’t think either of us knew how to break.

Except, something did break the pattern. Kate even wore her favorite matching underwear set, really trying to impress me. But it just… doesn’t. My anger and frustration with her was still just below the surface, just barely obscuring my frustration with myself for what happened with Jordan. It all added up to me being… well, soft. Limp as can be. Nothing Kate did, not her hands or her mouth, could elicit a reaction out of me.

Finally, she gave up and rolled over, huffing loudly. I knew we would fight about this again, but she was exhausted enough from the evening’s fight not to press it, I guess. Soon she was fast asleep, but I was still wide awake, my mind and stomach both turning. I couldn’t lay there and brood about this all by myself. I just couldn’t.

There was no one I could turn to. Except for one person, and I highly doubted he would listen to me after everything I had said. But I had to hope.

A week had gone by since I’d heard from Sam, and I’d given up hope of talking to him again. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I would even want to. I had enough stress in my life without having to deal with his baggage, and it seemed like he had plenty to spare. I went online every night, blatantly ignoring the tiny shard of disappointment I felt at his ‘offline’ status. It didn’t matter, I told myself. I didn’t want to talk to him anyway.

I convinced myself that the weight on my chest every day was normal, or at least had nothing to do with him. I refused to admit that I’d let him affect me. Who was he to me? No one important; a name online, without even a face to match. We’d talked, we’d gotten off, no big deal. So what if he’d gotten me to be more honest with myself than I’d been in over a decade?

So when I saw his name flash, I swallowed down the irrational gasp of hope, bit my cheek to stop from smiling. I waited, watching; when I received his message, my hands hovered over the keys. He didn’t deserve a response. I was stronger than that. And yet… a short moment later, I closed my eyes briefly, sending my reluctant reply.

Whatever I expected when I went back to Jordan, it was definitely wasn’t… that.

I was gay. I was fucking gay.

I should have seen this coming, especially when he tried to tell me. All the signs were there, and I just refused to look at them. I didn’t know what love was when I decided it was what I felt for Kate. I didn’t give myself time to try anything else, not even when I found my fantasies occasionally occupied by other men. I told myself that meant nothing. I lied to myself for so long that I didn’t even remember the lie anymore.

Jordan changed that. He forced me to confront everything head on. That was why I ran back to him, after all. Because I knew he would. And if he didn’t, I was pretty sure I could still convince him to give me what I was beginning to realize that Kate just couldn’t.

Then he said… he was falling for me. In the middle of my own emotional breakdown, it hadn’t even occurred to me to consider his feelings. Of course I had thought that it meant more to him than it did to me, but I didn’t realize it meant that much. The thing was, it was beginning to mean hell of a lot to me. He had listened to me, been there for me, and opened my eyes to the truth.

It was a scary truth. No, it was a terrifying truth. But with him there for me, maybe I could face it. Maybe I could even feel the same way.

I took a long, shaky breath. I hadn’t expected to ever hear from him again. And yet, he’d come back. But what a night… My head and heart were still reeling from the emotional whiplash. I was proud of him, for finally admitting his true feelings to himself. And yet, I was more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life. How could I have thought it was okay to admit something like that? What had I really expected?

And yet, he wasn’t leaving. He had promised to talk to me again. He’d tried to cheer me up, to make me feel better. He’d even said he could see himself feeling the same way… maybe. A slow smile crept across my lips… he said he cared about me. He said he likes me. The smile turned into a grin, as I re-read our chat. He was tender, and sweet, and gentle. He even said he’d be willing to try…

Try what, exactly?

My smile faltered, then fell. Try what? A… relationship? We were both married men. My breathing grew shallow, my lips parting slightly as realization dawned on me. We were both married. Taken. Nothing could come of this. Ever. I shook my head slightly, trying to silence the voice in my head, but I knew it was the truth.

What was I doing? I was getting emotionally involved with someone I could never have. I probably wouldn’t even get the chance to meet them face to face. What was I doing? I sat back, rubbing my tired eyes. I started to wonder if it had been a mistake, the whole thing. I needed time to think; time away from Sam. I needed to clear my head, to distance myself. I was wrapped up in the passion of the moment, the romantic sweet-talk. I needed time to come back to reality.

The next night, I opened my laptop as usual; but as soon as I saw Sam’s username, I immediately closed it again, not even bothering to check my emails. After a few minutes, I opened it back up, but quickly signed out of my instant messenger. I felt a weight on my chest, but I ignored it, doing what I needed to and heading to bed.

The following night was the same; Sam was on, but I avoided him. Work the next day was slow, giving me far too much time to think. I replayed our chats in my mind, my heart swaying between resolve, and regret, and back again. Another two days went by the same way, the dull ache not lessening as I’d hoped, but growing.

I was moody, on edge, easily upset. No amount of coffee could awaken my senses, and no amount of work could distract me from my thoughts. I worried people would start noticing, start asking questions about my increasingly perpetual bad mood. My responses grew shorter, snippier. I got a couple of not-so-nice looks from Ike, but luckily Zac seemed to be off in his own little world.