Perfectly In Sync
June 11, 2007
I’m outside the office. It’s nighttime and I don’t have to guess what day it is. The nervous tingle in my spine says it all. This is it. This is the day – or rather, the night – when everything changes.
I’m so nervous that my key nearly falls out of my hand twice and I only just barely manage to get it in the lock at all. I don’t know what I’ll find inside. Isaac told me that Taylor and I had a fight that night, but who knows how it actually happened in this version of events. Maybe we didn’t have a fight at all. Maybe I could prevent the fight. Maybe he’ll decide not to show up and just stay at home. Given the quietness of the office, I’m inclined to think that’s what happened.
I fumble my way through the hallways, turning on lights as I go. I check every room, but there’s no sign of Taylor at all. Nothing to suggest he’s been here and nothing to suggest that he will be here. It’s just as I figured, and it’s certainly not the first time he’s let me down.
Somehow, I’m a jumbled up mixture of disappointed, relieved and worried. If he isn’t here, maybe he’s sitting at home, safe and sound. Which means he’s let me down and chosen to keep his distance from me. On the other hand, maybe he’s out driving, just seconds away from wrapping his car around that tree.
With that horrible thought in mind, I pull my cell phone from my pocket and dial his number. It rings a dozen times before going to voicemail and I’m too mixed up to even leave him a message. I consider sending him a text, but I don’t even know what to say aside from the obvious – “where the hell are you?” If he isn’t answering my calls, he isn’t going to answer my texts either.
So that’s it, then. He’s either ditched me, or he’s dead already. I haven’t been able to stop it after all.
There’s a couch in the studio and all I want to do is curl up on it and cry. But it seems like, after all of this, after everything that’s happened, will happen, is happening, I just can’t. I don’t have any tears. So I just sit there and stare at the wall. I don’t even know how long I’ve been there when I finally hear it — the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. Loud, stumbling footsteps.
Taylor usually doesn’t make that much noise, but I have no doubt it’s him. I pull myself up and try to straighten out my clothes and hair so that maybe I don’t look like such a mess. He stumbles into the room moments later and leans against the door frame, a goofy smile on his face. The smile falls when he gets a good look at me, though. I must really look awful.
“I’m sorry, Zac,” Taylor slurs out, immediately revealing that he’s had a bit to drink. He pouts at me. “You know me, I’m never on time for anything…”
“I thought you weren’t coming,” I admit, deciding to pout a little bit too. “If I’d known you were going to be in this shape, I’d have hoped you weren’t coming.”
He slinks across the room – the only man I’ve ever seen capable of slinking across a room like that, even when drunk – and throws himself onto the couch next to me. He’s so close that I can smell the beer on him. “I just… had a few drinks. Lost track of time. I wasn’t going to stand you up, though.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” I point out, scooting away from him.
He follows me. “But not this time. I wanted to see you – want to see you. I’m sorry.”
“So why are you drunk?” I ask.
His head falls and it takes everything in me not to reach out and brush back the piece of hair that covers his eyes. “It’s been so long, Zac. I don’t know… I was nervous, I guess. Is that stupid?”
“Kind of,” I reply. “It’s just me. You don’t need to impress me or anything.”
I can’t believe how easily I’m accepting his stupid excuse and forgiving him. I just want to be near him again. I just want him in my life again, for good. If that makes pushing my anger down and pretending that I’m okay with whatever he’s done, then so be it.
“Forgive me?” He asks, glancing up at me with those sad blue eyes.
“Of course.”
He smiles again, that famous smile I missed so much, and he pulls me in close for a kiss. He’s tentative, though, I can feel his hesitance. Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he’s telling the truth. Or maybe he’s starting to feel wrong about us again. I don’t want to give him that chance. I don’t want to give him a chance to think about this and back out. I cup his face in my hands and kiss him back with all the strength I’ve got.
He doesn’t protest when I deepen the kiss, my tongue probing deep into his mouth. So I take another risk and shove him back on the couch until he’s lying down and I’m on top of him, our bodies stretched out together, touching from head to toe. It’s hard to ignore the stale taste of beer and cigarettes in his mouth, but nothing is going to stop me now. Not now that I’ve finally got my Taylor back. I’m not letting him go.
He kisses me back feverishly, matching my moves exactly. Our bodies are perfectly in sync and I love knowing that we’re like that. That we just know each other that well. His hips buck up against mine, rubbing his hardness against my thigh. I wiggle my hips a bit so that we’re lined up together, my dick pressing against his so he knows that I want this just as much as he does.
That’s all the encouragement he needs, I guess, because in seconds he’s fumbling with the hem of my shirt, trying to pull it over my head. I lean up and help him out, feeling myself blush as he blatantly stares me down. In any reality, I don’t remember the last time I was this naked in front of him, and I’ve never been comfortable with the way I look. Taylor knows that, though, and he always tries to reassure me that he thinks I’m beautiful. I don’t see it, but I’ll gladly accept the look he’s giving me as proof that he does.
We managed to shed the rest of our clothes quickly, and I feel better about my body once I’ve got him stripped down to his bare skin beneath me. It’s hard to think about my own insecurities when all I want to do is stare at him. I almost wouldn’t even mind if we just laid like this for the rest of the night, but there’s a part of me that wants more and I know Taylor does too. His arms and legs are both wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him.
“My pants pocket,” he mumbles, and it takes me a minute to figure out what he means.
I pry myself from his grip just enough to reach for his discarded pants in the floor. Sure enough, there’s a small bottle of lube tucked into the pocket. I don’t have to ask what he brought that for. I climb back onto the couch with him and pour a little of the lube onto my hand, enjoying the way his eyes light up and follow my every move.
He nudges his hips upward, toward my hand. But I decide to tease him a little bit first. I want to make this last. So no matter how much he begs, no matter how much he tries to impale himself on my fingers, I’m going to take my time. Finally, when I think he can’t take the torture anymore, I ease one finger inside him, enjoying the contrast between his warm skin and the cold lube. The way he moans tells me he’s enjoying it too.
“More,” he just barely manages to whisper, his voice raspy and breathy.
I comply. I may say that Taylor’s the one who always gives me what I want, but it isn’t true. I’m at his beck and call more often than not, even when I’m the one on top. If he asks for more, I’ll give him more. When I slip a second finger inside, he doesn’t moan – he sighs. It’s like he’s been waiting for this and finally it’s arrived and taken a terrible weight off his shoulders. I feel the same way, but he’ll never know just how much of a relief it is for me.
I would be happy just to get Taylor off, but soon he snakes his hand down and wraps it around my dick. I’m as hard as possible anyway, but it’s nice to know he’s at least thinking of my pleasure for once. He gives it a few nice, hard strokes, then lets go. I would be disappointed, but in seconds he’s wrapping his legs tighter around my hips and urging me closer. He isn’t subtle at all. I know exactly what he wants.
I withdraw my fingers and swiftly replace them with my cock. We both moan at the same time, our voices in perfect harmony. I’d find that a little funny if I weren’t focused on just how good it feels to be inside him again. I know and I love every inch of his body, and there’s nothing I want more than to be pressed up against him now, his hips bucking upwards to meet mine.
The way Taylor’s squirming beneath me, I know I’m not going to last very long, and I don’t think that he is either. He wraps his hand around his dick and strokes himself to the same rhythm that I’m fucking him. I can’t help but stare down dumbly at him. It almost feels like he’s putting on a show for me, the way he’s touching himself so expertly and moaning so loudly. But I don’t mind; he’s just theatrical like that all the time. Anyway, I have no doubt that I’m making him feel that good.
Unfortunately, all his theatrics have the effect of pushing me over the edge even faster. Maybe that was his intention all along. I squeeze my eyes shut so I’m just focusing on the way he feels and not the porn star like show he’s putting on beneath me. I’m trembling all over and I start to worry that my arms won’t continue to hold me up. Bright lights and colors flash in front of my eyelids as I come, and sure enough, I do lose my balance and tumble down on top of Taylor, just as he reaches his own orgasm. He moans dramatically as he shoots his load onto my stomach, and I don’t quite have the heart to be upset about the mess, considering what I’ve done to him.
I kiss his cheek before jumping up to grab a tissue. There aren’t any in the studio, so I throw my underwear and pants back on before heading down the hallway to the bathroom. I clean myself up quickly, not even bothering to look in the mirror and see just how disheveled I look. I just want to hurry up and get back to Taylor so we can spend the rest of the night together.
When I walk back into the studio, he’s still sprawled out across the couch, his long limbs pointing in every direction. He doesn’t move when I enter the room, or when I try to nudge him aside to sit down on the couch with him. He just lets out a loud snore and wrinkles his nose as though, despite his sleep, he knows there’s something trying to annoy him.
It’s then that I realize he must be even more drunk than I thought. That’s the only time he ever passes out so quickly after sex. Whenever we have lots of time along like this, he always wants to cuddle. He’s kind of a romantic like that. Except when he’s drunk. Then it’s all but impossible to wake him.
“Taylor. Wake up.” I nudge his shoulder hard, then give his face a light slap – just enough to rouse him, but hopefully not enough to make him angry. I know we can’t spend the entire night at the studio. That’s just going to look suspicious. But I can’t let him drive home.
So, this is how it happens. If I get to drive him home, then he won’t be driving drunk. I can save him. I shake him a little harder and call his name again. “Taylor. Wake the fuck up, now. We have to go.”
He grunts something that he probably thinks is a word and wiggles around a bit before finally opening his eyes and looking at me with annoyance. “What? You woke me up.”
“That’s what I was going for.”
“Why?” he asks, pouting.
I roll my eyes. “Because we can’t stay here all night. I gotta get you home and back in bed, okay?”
“I can get myself home,” he replies, pushing me away and struggling to sit up.
“No, I really don’t think you can,” I reply. Before he can argue any more, I grab his pants and fish his keys from the pocket. I’m stronger than him, even when he’s not falling down drunk, so I’m confident he’s not getting them back without a fight. A fight which he will lose.
“Ugh, fine,” he finally relents, but rolls his eyes to let me know that he doesn’t really agree with me. But that’s okay with me. He doesn’t have to agree as long as he lets me keep him from doing something really stupid.
I have to help him to his feet, though, and it takes both of us to get his clothes back on. If he’d just wear a few less layers, and pants his actual size, this would be a lot less difficult. I feel silly being angry about such minor inconveniences. All that matters is getting him safely home. Once we’re both dressed and about as presentable as we’re going to get, I wrap my arm around his waist to keep him steady and guide him out of the office.
It’s a difficult walk, but that’s okay. We’ll be fine. Everything will fine. I have to keep telling myself that, but I really do believe it. I’m in control of the situation now, and I can keep anything bad from happening. I hoist Taylor into the passenger seat and put his seat belt on. He’s asleep again before I’ve even opened the driver’s side door. I take a long, deep breath to calm myself, and then slowly back his car out of the parking lot.
A million thoughts run through my mind on the drive home. He lives farther away from the office than I do, way out in the country, but that’s okay. It’s a nice night for a long drive and despite my racing mind, I do feel a sense of calmness washing over me. I’m still a little angry with Taylor, though, for the way he nearly stood me up and then showed up drunk. In fact, the more I think about that, the more upset I get. But I try to tell myself that everything is going to be okay.
Taylor stirs in his seat. “Hey, look where we are.”
I realize that without thinking about it, I’ve chosen the route that will lead us down the very road he died on in that other reality. It sends a chill down my spine just to think about it, but it’s too late to go back down a different road now, and I don’t relish the idea of explaining that to Taylor. So I just have to go on and keep telling myself that things will be okay.
“Let’s pull over.”
From the corner of my eyes, I can see Taylor straining to reach me, his hand snaking across the console to touch my thigh. That touch would normally excite me, but now it only makes my stomach turn. “Taylor, stay in your seat, okay?”
“What? Don’t you want me? Sure seemed like you wanted me earlier…”
He’s trying to sound seductive, I’m sure, but he only sounds drunk, and it only makes me angrier. “What about you? You had to get drunk to want me.”
“That’s not true.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter, feeling my blood boil. “It sure seems that way.”
He ignores my warning and continues to lean across the car to get closer to me. I just hope he keeps his seat belt on. “Zac, I’m sorry. I just… I’m just an idiot. I was nervous and guilty and… damn it, I love you, okay?”
It’s not like we haven’t said those words to each other before. Of course we have. But I’ve never heard him say it with the kind of desperation and longing that he just said it. I’ve never believed it that much, and I can’t stop myself from looking at him. I have to see it in his eyes, too.
“I love you, too, Taylor.”
“Zac, watch the road!”
Everything from there on out seems to be in fast forward. I already know what I’m going to see when I look back at the road. I’ve veered off to the right and it doesn’t matter how hard to I try to correct it or slam on the breaks, we’re headed straight for that damn tree. All I can do is brace myself for the impact. I reach down to my lap and grab Taylor’s hand as the gap between us and death closes.
Somehow, the impact doesn’t hurt as much as I expect. I can’t really feel anything other than Taylor’s hand in mine, but I can hear the squealing tires, the awful sound of the impact itself like a gunshot, and then a thousand pieces of glass shattering all around me.
And I can’t move.
It’s not that I’m stuck in the car, although may be true as well, but I can’t even feel my body. I’m willing it to move with all my might, but it just won’t listen to me. It takes everything in me to slowly turn my head toward Taylor, and I can only barely see him through my blurry vision. He looks terrified, and I can see his face twist into a scream, but I can’t hear it.
My eyes close against my will and everything seems to be fading to black, all my sense fading away. My last thought is that this is not how it was supposed to happen at all.