Real (Short Story)

Real

Hunter ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. He raised his fist and after a reluctant moment, knocked on the door. With a wince, he stuffed both of his hands in his sweater's pockets. He shuffled uncertainly.

Before he could turn away, the door opened and the younger man appeared.

"Hey, Hunter," Benjamin said, with a small smile. He gazed softly at Hunter, with the familiar tinge of growing excitement. "I wasn't really expecting you."

"I know. It's just, I thought maybe you'd --" Hunter started, unable to finish because a lump had formed in his throat.

Benjamin nodded, quickly. Beckoning for Hunter to come in, he opened the door wider.

Hunter strode nervously into the apartment, feeling Benjamin's steady gaze on his back. The two entered the living room together.

Turning, Hunter asked shakily, desperately, "You have alcohol, right?"

Benjamin nodded, but a small twinge of something -- disappointment -- had cast across his features for a few moments. As Benjamin disappeared into the kitchen, Hunter felt his heart beating hard against his chest; this was the first time Ben had ever looked disappointed. Hunter had no time to decipher why this was before an alcoholic drink was shoved into his hand.

Hunter downed it impatiently. With the strong alcohol burning his throat, he requested more, but Benjamin took the glass away slowly. Setting it down on the coffee table, Benjamin approached Hunter with a determined stare. It was tinged with a sort of fear. He put his warm hands on the man's arms and leaned in, smelling the fresh alcohol.

Benjamin pressed his lips against Hunter's, delicately, waiting to see what would happen. Shakily, Hunter pushed the shorter man away, gulping. When he met Benjamin's sad gaze, Hunter spotted something in those green eyes.

Realization.

"Hunter."

Hearing his name being said softly, hearing a voice full of hurt, Hunter stopped breathing. Choked, he said, "Yeah?"

"I thought this was real. You said it was."

Pain forced Hunter to take shaky breaths. The warm hands left his goose-bumped arms, falling to Benjamin's sides with a hint of defeat and disappointment. Hunter managed a thin whisper, "It -- it is real."

Benjamin's features twisted in hurt. "Don't lie to yourself anymore. Don't lie to me."

Hunter was unable to speak. He hated how the burning in his throat had seeped away almost as much as he felt uncomfortable under Ben's stare.

"You... you need to get drunk... You need to get drunk to have --" Ben started, averting his tear-filled gaze to the carpeted floor. A wisp of his light brown hair fell to his forehead, and like always, Hunter had to ignore the urge to push it away gently. "I should've known."

"Ben, it is real. I-I'm just scared, you know? I still haven't really accepted..." Hunter trailed off, random tears burning his eyes.

"I understand that," Benjamin commented. "But that doesn't mean you have to get drunk. Doesn't mean you have to be ashamed." As he became increasingly upset, Benjamin took a few steps back. After hitting into the living room wall, he sighed and walked into the kitchen.

Hunter followed sadly.

"Hell, maybe you're just a horny bastard like the rest of them. I did meet you in that damn bar." Benjamin's back was facing Hunter, clutching the edge of the counter as if he was holding on for life. "Tell me, do you have a girlfriend back home who's sometimes too tired to fuck, and then you come to me when she falls asleep? Is that it?"