Chapter Text
The sliver of light outside Mac’s window maneuvers its way through the blinds to softly fall upon the foot of his bed. He watches what little he can see of the raindrops sliding down the windowpane. God must be keenly aware of the ache in Mac’s chest. Of course, God sent the rain because Mac has never been so devastated. The tears he cried hours ago are dried to his cheeks like the rain will be dried to the pavement by morning. The pillow he’s holding to his chest does nothing to comfort the emptiness in his heart.
How did this happen? How could he let himself be tricked so easily? Why does it never work out? Why can’t he be loved? Is there something so wrong with him? He must be defective. Something about him makes him purely unlovable. The voice in his head tells him he was made in God’s image. How can that be true? How can God be loved by everyone in the world, but Mac by no one?
Mac loves so deeply. He loves his parents, his friends, his God. He could fill every room in the city of Philadelphia with his love and there’d still be overflow. Concealing or lessening that love has never been his strong suit. He loves loudly. He makes no secret of it. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t know how.
He deserves to be on the receiving end of some of that love. He’s been waiting and trying and loving hard for nearly fifty years. Half a century. That number carves a new depth into the ache in his body. A tear slips out and onto the mattress.
He forgives those who hurt him. He submits to their will. His love never falters despite the abuse. And that’s what it is; abuse. He keeps the word in a deep, hard to reach place. He prefers to forgive and forget. After all, that’s what Jesus would do, right? When he felt the stinging sharp pain of a cigarette on his knee, he forgave and forgot. When the other side of the phone line goes dead as soon as he speaks, he forgives and forgets. When fingernails are slicing through the skin of his cheek, he forgives and forgets, but only after he suppresses the thrill of being touched.
Mac isn’t sure he can do it this time. He hurts too deeply and feels too empty. He can’t forgive Dennis, and he sure as hell isn’t going to be able to forget. How can one forget the one they love? How could he forget how open and loving Johnny was? How could he forget their midnight confessions where he was finally, after so many years, told he was special and loved? How can he forget the desire-laden texts (not to mention the videos)? During the span of their brief relationship, Mac had felt like he was floating. Life didn’t even feel real. He went to work, he hung out with the gang, he worked out, but every single thing felt different. His life felt shiny and electrified. He thought about Johnny first thing in the morning, in the shower, on the way to work, sitting at the bar, at the gym, before bed. And now that’s gone. A sob rips through his chest and he muffles it with the pillow.
Johnny is gone. Forever. No, wait- he was never real to begin with. So Mac was never really loved. He thought he could finally have the relationship he’s wanted for so long but it was all a lie. Even if Johnny wasn’t real, Mac’s love was. Mac’s love is always real. Sometimes it's so real that it chokes him. It crushes him in its wake. It grows like ivy across everything it can reach until it is cut and falls lifeless to the ground. And it is always cut. The garden shears always manage to sever the sinewy vines. Despite this, the leaves persist and climb back up, clinging to dead trees remaining green all the while.
Johnny was taken from him. Crudely ripped away at the rising of a temper. Could this be Mac’s fault? Were there signs he didn’t see? No. His jaw tightens. This isn’t his fault. It's Dennis’. Dennis did this. His chest contracts with the anger that flushes through him. He sobs louder, angrier into his pillow. He lets out a yell and his fists beat into the mattress. The tears he sheds are hardly noticeable now, as his skin heats up matching their temperature. He can’t stand another second of this feeling. He sits up in bed, still beet red and shaking. He remembers the bottle of whiskey in the kitchen then checks the clock; 3:42am. Good. Dennis should be sleeping.
He rises from the bed and cautiously opens the door to the kitchen. Once he sees the lights off and Dennis’ door shut, he steps into the kitchen to grab the bottle sitting on the counter, not bothering with a glass. Mac takes the three-quarters full bottle and turns to go back to his room, until something catches his eye. He sees the laptop that he and Dennis share sitting on the kitchen table peeking out from under old junk mail. After picking up the laptop with his free hand, he makes his way back to his bedroom. He figures he won’t be getting much sleep tonight so he may watch a movie later once he is sufficiently drunker. He tosses the computer on the bed and unscrews the lid from the whiskey, immediately taking four large gulps before beginning to pace the room.
How could Dennis do this to him? They’re supposed to be best friends. Best friends don’t ruin each other’s lives. A best friend isn’t supposed to leave the other heartbroken. Mac would never do that to Dennis. Mac loves Dennis, or at least he did. He takes another swig. Mac would do anything to please him. He would move mountains for Dennis. Why doesn’t Dennis understand that? He used to think he would never have another friend like Dennis. That Dennis understood him in a way few else did. Of course, there was the year he gave up on that notion. There was a period where Mac had thought their friendship was over. Dennis didn’t care about him anymore, so he left.
That was the loneliest year of his life. He saw the world in black and white. His food was bland and he slept fitfully. He spent every waking moment he wasn’t working, at the gym. He couldn’t stand to be alone in their apartment. At night he could shut the door and pretend Dennis was asleep in his room instead of hundreds of miles away. The only time Mac allowed himself to think about Dennis, was in the shower.
It started off innocent. Mac would remember the fun they used to have. He would think about getting high after school in Dennis’ basement. Gossiping at their monthly dinner. Getting drunk and plotting schemes with the gang. But he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from Dennis’ touch. How he would caress Mac’s face when he was angry. How he would allow his head to rest on Mac’s shoulder during movie night, and when he’d look up their faces were so close, it made Mac dizzy. Mac began to imagine how Dennis’ fingers would feel grazing over his chest. How he might grip Mac’s jaw in his slender grasp. Once those thoughts occurred to him, it was hard to keep any further imaginings pure. He imagined Dennis’ fingers tracing a line down his sternum, his abdomen, and into his boxers. Dennis’ eyes looking directly into Mac’s as he wraps his fingers around Mac’s erection. Mac could hardly keep himself under control as he imagined Dennis slowly pumping his length and feeling his breath on his lips. Real Mac would hold off for as long as he could but would always end up with his hand on his dick thinking about Dennis.
As he stroked himself, getting closer and closer to climax, inevitably the tears would come. They’d become indistinguishable from the shower water as Mac cried out both in pleasure and anguish. Once he finished he felt utterly empty and depleted. He would rinse himself of tears and semen, then turn off the water. His rule was once the water was off, he was no longer allowed to wallow in his sadness. So he’d spend the following hours staving off thoughts of Dennis.
Once Dennis returned to Philly, initially Mac was over the moon. But once settled, he realized this Dennis was not the same one he remembered. This Dennis was constantly on edge, always displeased, and hated Mac. Mac had thought they’d be able to easily slip back into old routines, but this new Dennis refused. Their movie nights and monthly dinners never returned. Dennis was constantly pushing Mac away. Sometimes, lying in bed at night, after being yelled at all evening, Mac thought he may have preferred Dennis being gone. He may have truly wished to live in his blissful fantasies of Dennis as opposed to the irritable, flesh and bone Dennis before him.
As time passed, Dennis softened and Mac forgave and forgot. Mac finally felt like they had rekindled their friendship during quarantine. They spent so much time together that Dennis turned over a new leaf. He was back to being enthusiastic about his and Mac’s endeavors. They ate meals together, they watched shows together, and returned to the same wavelength. Every time they sat side by side on their leather couch, Mac felt a peace he hadn’t known in a long time. Finally he had his Dennis back at his side.
So when Dennis revealed that Mac’s online boyfriend had been him catfishing Mac the whole time, Mac didn’t even believe him. It’s a ridiculous concept. Mac had been talking to Johnny for months. Johnny sent him heartfelt messages, sexts, and everything in between. Johnny even told Mac he loved him. They were boyfriends for god’s sake! Dennis would never agree to such a thing. To Mac, Dennis seemed incapable of intimacy these days. There’s no way he could have come up with the loving words Johnny sent. There’s no way Dennis would ever buy Mac a sex toy, let alone tell him how much it gets him off to think about Mac using it. It is simply impossible. Or at least, that’s what Mac thought prior to this afternoon.
When Dennis showed him the app on his phone responsible for controlling the anal beads, Mac still refused to believe it. Dennis must have stolen Johnny’s phone, because it didn’t make any fucking sense! How could Dennis have the app? He’s not Johnny. He’s just not.
Once Mac got home from the chess tournament, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of things. He felt so confused and angry. Why did Dennis insist on this lie? Maybe he’s having a psychotic break. Maybe that disorder he was diagnosed with years ago is getting worse. Mac should google it. He pulled out his phone with the intention of going to the search engine. But the messages app caught his eye.
Despite not hearing from Johnny in a few days, Mac held on to hope. Mac was still feeling frustrated after being stood up earlier in the week. When he found himself alone in the motel room for the umpteenth time with nothing but a bag of soft-shell crab and a softer dick, he decided to make Johnny regret it. He hadn’t returned any messages in several days, and eventually the texts just stopped. His heart ached as he scrolled through their conversations.
2 months ago
Mac: Good morning beautiful :*
Johnny: Hey baby
1 month ago
Mac: Attachment: 1 Video
Johnny: Fuck I’m so hard for you. The way you sound when you come is driving me crazy. I need your cock so bad, baby boy.
Mac let out a sigh and considered being the first to reach back out.
3 weeks ago
Johnny: How was your day?
Mac: It was kinda crazyyyy! I got some awesome fancy nuts and I was eating them like all day. Then I guess i looked weird or something cuz Dennis made me go 2 the hospital! They gave me like tons of allergy drugz LOL
Johnny: Wow. Did you not know you were allergic to nuts? Are you okay now?
Mac: Nah I’m not allergic to nuts. It was just a fluke thing
Johnny: Uh huh. Well, are you okay now?
Mac: Yea i’m a little sleepy but I’m good!!
1 ½ weeks ago
Mac: Johnny I need 2 tell u something
Johnny: What? Is everything okay?
Mac: I hope this isnt too fast or anything but I feel like i need 2 tell u
My feelings for u are kinda crazy. I think about u all the time. I know we've never met but i miss you when I’m not talking 2 u. I wanna meet you so bad johnny. I wanna be inside u. I wanna fuck you so hard u walk weird the next day
Johnny: Mac, I want to be with you too. I miss you all the time. I need you, baby. I want you to mark me up and show everyone that I’m yours. You can soon, I promise.
Mac: Johnny, I love u.
2 minutes later
It's ok if u don’t wanna say it.
10 minutes later
Johnny: I love you. I love you and I hope you’re wearing your gift because I want to see you later.
Mac: I’m always wearing it for u baby ;)
Johnny: Oh yeah? How about until then, tell me all about what you’re going to do to me later? Don’t leave out any details.
Mac reread this exchange in particular over and over. Johnny is kind. He reciprocates Mac’s advances. He gives him everything Dennis doesn’t. Despite this, a voice in his head encouraged him to imagine Dennis saying those words. Of course it wasn’t Dennis… but what if? In his mind’s eye he pictured the words leaving Dennis’ lips. Dennis saying “Mac, I want to be with you too.” Dennis begging, “I need you, baby.” Dennis giving him what he wants then stringing him along even further.
Mac’s stomach churned. Something about the way these words sounded coming from Dennis’ mouth didn’t seem… impossible. The more Mac turned over this mental image of Dennis delivering these sentiments, the more his stomach dropped. Mac’s mouth went dry and his hands curled into fists as he rose from the bed. It was Dennis all along. He let out a guttural yell and his whole body shook. Hot tears ran down his cheeks. How could Dennis stoop so low? Why would someone who is supposed to be his friend do this to him?
“Fuck! God fucking damn it!” Mac kicked the wall of his bedroom. He threw himself up against the closed door. In his rage, he tried to throw the bookshelf to the floor, but it was unfortunately bolted to the wall. “You fucking piece of shit.” Instead, he swung around and tried to punch the wall. He must have aimed poorly because instead of the hole he had hoped to see in the drywall, he just felt a snapping pain in his knuckles. He cried out.
This same rage is bubbling up in Mac now. While he thought he had cried himself out of it, the alcohol brings back the fury and disbelief he experienced earlier and just as strongly. His fist, blooming with bruises from his outburst this evening, meets the wall again. This time Mac doesn’t miss and he punches a fist sized hole into the space between the door and his closet.
When he pulls his hand out it stings, but the adrenaline and liquor numb the pain. He suddenly remembers he’s trying not to wake Dennis up. Fuck Dennis, he thinks. If he can take away the love of Mac’s life, then Mac can deprive him of a bit of his beauty sleep.
Mac considers shattering the whiskey bottle against the door frame, but something shiny near the bottle changes his mind. Instead, he hurriedly makes his way towards the laptop on the bed. Mac has an idea, a dangerous idea. An idea that will surely get him scratched, the silent treatment, or worse. But the urge to devastate Dennis is far stronger than his self-preservation.
Mac opens the computer and the light shines too bright in his dark space. He mashes the touchpad over and over when the browser takes a few seconds to load. Fuck Dennis. Fuck him and his stupid fucking face. Mac never wants to see that face again. Except maybe only to witness his reaction to what Mac is about to do.