My Best Friend, Tristan (Part 10)

I’ve seen Tristan hold back tears many times in our life. The situations were usually very bad. Yet he’d try to be strong for the both of us. In fact, this is only the second time in our sixteen-year friendship that I’ve seen Tristan cry. And as I stand here in his arms feeling the warmth of his tears trail down my shoulder, I feel nothing but love. The rare kinda of love that only people of opposite sexes are privileged to feel without any condemnation. As much as I want to keep living this moment forever and playing beautiful sonnets full of pianos and wind instruments in my head, I realize that I might be more broken than I care to accept. Seeing things? Hallucinating? Dreaming? But I really don’t want to break this moment to confront that. Oh Tristan, please say something.

“I think you should lie down and sleep.” He releases though the weight of this moment that we both held unwillingly. He holds me tighter and I feel remains of his tears against my ears.

“I saw Danny. In here.” I voiced as he started to release me. “Why was Danny here?” I pressed on. I could see on Tristan’s face a clear sign of displeasure.

“Kyle, please. You’re not ready.” He steps away from me.

“Please don’t keep hiding things from me. Why was Danny here?” I pled. He had to have felt the neediness in my cry as he turned his gaze to the floor. He exhales and slips his hands into his pockets. I couldn’t see Tristan’s face, but I felt him trying to forgive himself. Trying to convince himself. Trying to protect me. The patterned tiles must have only created more confusion for him.

“He didn’t want me to be alone.”

“What?”

“Danny didn’t want me to be alone.---You’re very sick, Kyle.” He willed himself to say.

“I can’t be.”

“You think that because you thought you were cured.” Tristan was unreactive and unaffected by anything he was telling me. But it torn me to pieces to hear him say them. “You’re not cured, Kyle.”

“I have to be,” I sighed in weak hope. There was no way I wasn’t cured. I felt my body heating and cooling rapidly. Then I start to consider that Tristan might be telling the truth.

“So Danny’s a hallucination?”

“It depends. Do you really want to know the truth?”

“I need to know.” I pressed. Tristan shook his head slightly and sighed.

“Danny’s---.“ Tristan paused, trying to decide how to put? Or maybe if he should go through with it at all. But even he had to know that it was far too late.

“Danny’s inside of you.”

“What? No.” I start to panic. A dizzy spell takes over me as I sweat profusely. I take a step back only to bump into Tristan’s bed. Tristan turns to see the panic in my eyes.

“You wanted to know, didn’t you?” He says with a special annoyance overriding his tone.

“No. I spoke to him. I’ve seen him. I’ve seen you with him.” I muddled. My speech became choppy. Tristan holds no sympathy on his eyes. He only stands there looking at me like I deserved it.

““I said you weren’t ready! Do you see what you do?”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m lying?” Tristan snaps. Tristan snaps? Tristan never does that either. He storms over to me and grabs me. Nothing but fire in his eyes. It put an unshakeable fear in my heart. “What did you see when you saw Danny?” He explodes. “What did you see?”

“I saw Danny.” I replied in complete fear. This is not the dominance that was sexy on Tristan. He shook me and I felt like he might break me.

“What did you see on his face!?”

“Scars and bruises.”

Tristan pulls me over to the back of his door. He lets me go and I fall to my knees. As I gather myself together, I see myself in the long mirror affixed in front of me against his door. Tristan takes to one knee next to me. He pulls me up aggressively by my arm.

“Look at yourself!”

“Tristan.” I call out to him as I fight to pull myself free. He takes my jaw and points it towards the mirror.

“You wanted to know, so look at yourself.”

“I’m looking!”

“Look closer. Until you see the truth.”

I gaze long and hard into the mirror. I felt a hold on me to keep looking. It was a hold other than Tristan’s grips on me. It was a curiosity to see what was there. And just like that, the scars took shape on my face. I began to tear as though I could feel those cuts forming there. But I felt nothing. The dark marks and the traces of old bruises quickly took shape. Just like those on Danny’s face. Same placements. But this was not Danny’s face. It was mine.

“Please stop it!” I cried as tears streamed down my face onto Tristan’s hand.

“Find yourself!” He commanded with force.

“Tristan, please.” I strained. I couldn’t handle the unrecognizable image of me. I shut my eyes tightly as I struggled to pull myself from Tristan’s grip and erase the images before me. Soon I was set free from his hold. Standing behind Tristan gasping for air I didn’t really need. I watch him shake Danny.

“Kyle?---Kyle, please don’t go!”

With the realization that I was no longer there, Tristan releases Danny abruptly and lets out a heat of anger. Danny curls up on the floor. He’s sobbing in a sort of pitiful way. As Tristan continues to vent by his closet door his arms folded over his head, I decide to examine Danny more closely. He’s really there. How often does he go through this? He seemed to be hurting. I kneel over him. I start to reach for him when Tristan turns his attention back to him. It’s a look of animosity at first. Of anger and hatred mixed together. Then he relaxes and expresses a sort of sadness I had never seen before.

He comes over to Danny and kneels near him. Tristan lifts Danny and levels him close to himself. He looks at Danny with a gentle wanting

Tristan’s eyes communicate something different now. Love. Passion. Assurance, as he looks onto Danny. He caresses Danny’s many scars and bruises covering his face. He lifts his chin.

“Thank you for keeping me company.” He says to Danny.

 “I’m never gonna be him.” Danny grieves for himself.

“It doesn’t matter. I love you.”

Tristan kisses Danny and a stabbing pain shoots through. The sweetest words Tristan could ever say. And they were to him. I guess I deserved it. I ran like a coward and left Tristan alone to deal with it.

Danny seems to be consumed by Tristan’s embrace. He’s in complete ecstasy as Tristan kisses him in all the ways he’s kissed me. Tristan leans over him until Danny is flat on the floor staring up into Tristan’s eyes. He pushes Danny’s hair back away from his face. I am filled with a special sadness as I stand just a few feet from Tristan’s passionate being.

I don’t get it. He looks nothing like me. He sounds nothing like me. But he’s there. Right where I should me.

“Tristan, you know how much I love your full weight on my body.”

“Mm---. Tell me how much that turns you on.”

I really didn’t want to keep watching. But I became interested in the kinda of life that Tristan led with Danny. The kind of sex that they had.

“It makes me want to take your whole cock in my mouth!”

“Mm. You know how much that turns me on.” He kisses Danny. This only made me think about all the ways Danny must please Tristan in my absences.

I decide to leave. I guess I could just walk out the door. Or through it? As I start for the door I realize, that if Danny’s technically me, then Tristan’s technically doing all this to me. When he’s kissed Danny, he’s kissed me. And if he’s fucked Danny then he’s fucked---

“I want you inside me, Tristan!” I hear Danny moan.

Shit. Tristan has fucked me and I haven’t been around to experience it.

I am filled with despair as I reach for the door. Okay, so through the door is what I can do. I make my way through the door and I am completely separated from them. I hear nothing. See nothing. Yet somehow this doesn’t relieve me of the sadness I feel. Tristan was enjoying Danny so much, I have no place with him.