To Love Again - Al

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Author's Note: This is a sequel to the previous published story "One Day at a Time."

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I got back to my apartment and plopped on the couch. I had an emotionally draining day at work and wanted to unwind. I pulled out my phone and thumbed through the contacts...

Cary

...

Danny

...no, I would be seeing them in a few days...

Charlie

...no, I wasn't in the mood to talk to my sister...

Vik

.

My thumb hovered over his name. There was a part of me that wanted to delete him from my contacts, but I knew I shouldn't. We still kept in touch on the phone and with Skype. Even so, I just looked at the name, mocking me. We had talked a couple of days ago, but it wouldn't hurt to send a quick call or text to my boyfriend—

EX-boyfriend!

My brain interrupted itself to correct me.

Friend. He's a friend,

I amended further.

Suddenly the evening didn't seem so relaxing anymore.

Vik had been gone for three months, and my heart still twisted itself into knots whenever I thought about him. We left on amiable terms, and I still consider him to be one of my closest friends, but there was a part of me that would always see him as something more. The concept of moving on sounds simple, but in practice it just doesn't work that way.

I settled on calling my mother.

"Hey, Alice!"

"Hi Mom, and please call me Al."

"Hmph, fine. Hey,

Al

."

She was normally one of the only two people I ever let call me by my real name, but right now I was already thinking too much about the one other person.

"How are things going with you, sweetie? Getting better?"

I smiled wanly. "Well, I'm not getting worse."

My parents knew about the relationship I had with Vik, as well as how it ended, but they knew me well enough to be able to tell that it affected me more than I let on.

"I suppose that's good. Just keep moving forward, and know that you'll always have your mom and dad to talk to."

"I really just wanted to say hi, Mom. Maybe talk about how things are going?"

She giggled. "I suppose."

We chatted for maybe half an hour. We talked about how our summers were going and how things were going with some other members of our family.

"What are you doing for your birthday?"

It was the 13

th

of June, so my twenty-sixth birthday would be in 3 days.

"I'll be going out to some clubs and bars with my friends."

"Okay. Have fun, just be careful." Both of my parents were former hippies, they were fine with me being gay and having casual sex, but she'd always been protective of me and Charlie.

"I've always been careful," I reminded her.

"Good. Keep it up."

I laughed a little. We talked a bit more before we said goodbye and hung up. Feeling slightly better than I had an hour before, I got up order some takeout.

*****

My birthday was that Friday, and I had already sworn up and down to my friends Cary and Danny that I would go out for a night of debauchery with them for it.

"You've been hiding away feeling sorry for yourself for too long, buddy," Cary had said, tactful as ever. "You need to live a little." Danny nodded in agreement.

They were right. I had limited myself to just the occasional Grindr hookup in the months since Vik left for LA, not trying to make new friends and definitely not looking for another boyfriend. I knew that it would be hard to move on if I just stayed in my apartment, but never before had my apartment seemed so inviting to me. Still, it was time for a change.

I got home from work that day, excited.

Then I looked at my phone.

I had one missed call and a voicemail from Vik.

Almost feeling like my phone had turned into a sensitive bomb, I sat down and hesitantly tapped on the voicemail symbol.

"Hey, Alice. I just wanted to call to say Happy Birthday. I hope you have fun tonight."

There was a pause.

"I miss you. I know that we're both where we're supposed to be, but I still wish I was there with you. Crap, that's a downer. I'm sorry, don't let this put a damper on the evening. Don't worry about me; just focus on enjoying yourself. Okay, I'm rambling. Bye."

The message ended.

Despite how sad I was feeling, I couldn't help but smile. It felt nice to hear his voice, just know that he was thinking of me.

And now I was thinking longingly about my ex right after he finished telling me to forget about him and enjoy myself. Damn it all.

Why and how did every single little thing make me think of Vik? Why couldn't I just give it a rest for one fucking day? I had gotten past the first wave of depression, the stage where I cried a lot and didn't want to talk to anyone, but it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. I still thought about him constantly, not giving any consideration to actually picking myself up and letting anybody help me.

I needed a change. I couldn't keep going like this. The problem was, knowing that was the easy part. I was still in a rut and didn't see a way out of it.

I remembered some advice my sister had given me one time.

"Al, when you're stuck in a funk, sometimes doing something crazy is the best way to snap yourself back to reality." She told me that after I asked her why she got a huge tattoo on her shoulder following a breakup.

I definitely had stagnated recently, not pushing myself out of his comfort zone. As I was thinking about this I noticed that I was twirling my hair in my fingers, one of my nervous habits.

Ever since my freshman year of college I had had long hair. I liked the look of it, whether down or in a ponytail. At that point it was some of the longest it had ever been, past shoulder length.

Naturally, my brain took the opportunity to play "6 degrees of

I'm not over Vik

" and reminded me of how much he liked my long hair, too. He'd run his hands through it and liked washing it when we showered together.

Something clicked. I had found the batshit crazy overcompensation I needed. Without even really thinking about what I was doing, I went to my bathroom.

I had all sorts of personal grooming tools in my vanity, but I only pulled out one: the scissors. I had been cutting my own hair for years, just trimming it on occasion. I grabbed the scissors and sectioned out a chunk of hair before I stopped myself.

What the hell are you doing?

I had no idea. What, did I think this was a movie or something? What would a haircut do? Was I a fucking

child

?

I looked at the long hair I was holding in my hands. Almost on cue, I started to imagine that my hands were Vik's. He was gently caressing my hair and telling me that he loved me. Then he cupped my face in his hands and leaned in to—

Snip!

I almost had a heart attack. A chunk of hair nearly six inches long was gone.

I started panicking. How had I done that without me even noticing? My hand just brought the scissors up by itself while I was busy thinking about Vik like a moron. Fuck! I had to go out tonight, and I would

not

be able to cancel. Cary would drag me outside if he had to.

Okay, okay, Al, don't freak out. It's not that bad.

I knew better. There was a giant hole in my hair up front and on display. My mind scrambled, trying to find something to latch onto before I had a panic attack. A random thought crossed my mind.

I mean, at least you're not thinking about Vik anymore!

I wanted to laugh. Yeah, now I was too busy having an aneurysm over my fucking hair!

Then I remembered why I was in the bathroom with scissors in the first place.

Well...shit. I guess I've gotten past the hard part...

I raised the scissors to my head again, placing them at a section of hair next to the one I cut off. I imagined that my hair was a physical representation of how much I missed Vik. I wanted it gone.

Snip!

Another bronze piece of hair fell onto the counter.

No turning back now.

It took almost an hour, but I had methodically cut away all the hair that had been such a part of me for years. I was crying a bit, but didn't stop until it was all gone.

I examined what was left. My hair was the shortest it had been since at least high school. It wasn't as short as Vik's (

GODDAMMIT, THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE ON THE PLANET!

), but I still barely recognized myself.

Despite how drastic the change was, I found that I liked it more and more the longer I looked. I liked how it fell over my forehead. I liked the texture of it. I was able to coax myself out of my impending mental breakdown. Once I was finally calm, I started laughing. That was one of the stupidest things I had ever done, and for what? Symbolism?

The thing was, I wasn't mad at all.

Still giggling, I proceeded to fully get ready for my night out.

*****

I took an Uber to the club, knowing that I would allow myself to get drunk that night. I was running a few minutes late, but still got to the club close to the designated time we had set up. It was one of my favorite gay clubs in Philadelphia, named Ganymede.

It is not lost on me that nightclubs (gay or straight) aren't for everybody. Fights, creeps with roofies, and people having intense makeout sessions (and more) in the open are not uncommon. Still, it can be fun if you know what you're getting into and don't do anything stupid. Ganymede struck a nice balance between keeping things safe and allowing people to let loose in a way they never would otherwise. In a few minutes I had gotten past the bouncer and was inside, looking for my friends.

Cary's jaw dropped when he saw me.

"Damn, Al, I hardly recognized you! What's with the short hair?"

I shrugged. "I just felt like a change." I was content to keep the details to myself.

"Huh. Well, it looks good."

Danny nodded, and I looked at him. He was wearing his little collar that Cary bought for him when he moved in to become his full-time sub, and it had a leash attached that Cary was holding. Danny had duct tape over his mouth, and when I leaned in to get a better look, I saw that it had "TAKEN" written on it in Sharpie.

"Cary, I know you're protective of the guy, but this is excessive."

"Maybe, but the little pup is the one who suggested it."

"Really?" I turned to Danny and he nodded again. I sighed. I had known those two for almost a year and they still managed to surprise me every now and then.

"Anyway, Happy B-Day, Al!" Cary beamed and clapped me on the back. He turned to Danny. "C'mon, pup, show the birthday boy some love!"

Danny gave me a hug and nuzzled my chest with his cheek.

Cary ordered some shots for me, him, and anybody else who was interested, then toasted my birthday before we all drank. Well, all except for Danny.

I was feeling good, and went out to the dance floor. I was grinding up against sweaty men I didn't know and allowed myself to get lost in the house music a little. I liked going back to the night life after distancing myself from it for so long.

I continued drinking and dancing, but my fun night out lost steam in record time. Usually, I felt like I could go until dawn, but this time barely an hour passed before I got tired of it. Maybe I was getting old, but Cary was 30 and he was still having fun, over in the corner looking like he was trying to eat Danny alive. I really didn't want to be a buzzkill, but I didn't want to stay for much longer.

I went to the bar and got a cocktail. As I nursed my drink I started thinking about the events that had led up to this. Now more than ever, it all just seemed unnecessary and superficial. Nightlife is supposed to be an escape from reality, where people can lower their inhibitions and let loose, but ever since I got a taste of the stable, committed life with Vik that escape sort of lost its appeal to me. Vik was an old-fashioned sort of guy, and I suspected that it had rubbed off on me a little.

Suddenly I got upset. Why couldn't I just let myself not be miserable? Why did I have to spend so much time thinking about him? We dated for like two months, it's not like we were married, or even moved in with each other. I knew I loved him, but I wasn't at the point where I knew he was the One.

Still, given time...who knows? The idea of fully settling down with Vik wasn't unappealing, not when we were together, and not now. I really wished I had gotten the chance to found out what could have been.

I reminded myself, as I often did, that it was for the best that I stayed in Philadelphia while Vik went to LA for his counseling job. He dropped everything in his life to pack up and move pretty much on the spot. I would have had to do the same. I know the "right" thing to do would be to run off into the sunset with my love anyway, but this wasn't a fairy tale. Life gets in the way of our ideals sometimes.

Despite that fact, I was constantly wondering what would have happened if I had thrown everything away just to stay with Vik, where we would be now and how we would be doing. I simply did not know, and that was eating away at me.

What was wrong with me? It was my birthday. I was at a club with friends, but I was at the bar drinking my feelings like an asshole, pining about an ex of mine. The change of scenery hadn't done anything.

I drained my drink. A haircut didn't help. Going out didn't help. All I wanted to do was leave.

I felt a gentle tapping on my back. I turned around to see a man wearing makeup.

"Hey. You look like you'd rather be anywhere else." He had a deep voice that contrasted with his appearance.

I dabbled with makeup occasionally, but this guy clearly did it often and took it seriously. He had a full face on, with nude lips and fiery red smoky eyes. He had a white tank top, skinny jeans, and heels. He wasn't in drag, he was in that weird area of not masculine, but not really feminine, either. Still, in a weird way, he looked good.

I realized he had said something to me.

"Oh, yeah, I'm not in the mood tonight."

"I'm not, either." He held out his hand. "What do you say we get out of here?"

My first instinct was to say no. I had no idea who this man was or what his intentions were. He could have wanted to cut out my organs and sell them on the black market for all I knew. But for some reason, my gut told me I didn't have to worry. Besides, it had been a while since I had gotten any action. And it was my birthday. Maybe it was time for me to stop trying to fix my problems and indulge in simply distracting myself from them.

I put my hand in his. "Sure. Why not?"

He grinned.

As he led me out of the club I took a second to text Cary that I was leaving. I had lost track of those two and wanted them to know I was okay.

We got outside and started walking to nowhere in particular.

"So, what did you get roped in that landed you at Ganymede?" He asked.

I got a little embarrassed. "My, uh...my birthday. I'm pretty sure going clubbing was my idea, too."

"Hey, sometimes that just happens. I spent an hour getting myself dolled up and lost interest a few minutes after walking in."

We got to a crosswalk and had to wait for a minute. I figured that now was as good a time as any for actual introductions.

I held out my hand. "My name is Al Walker."

He gave me a firm handshake and looked me in the eye when he replied "Michael Williams."

We were standing still, so I looked him up and down in the light of the streetlamp. "You look great, Michael."

He smiled. "Thanks. You do, too."

We made our way to a park and got to a bench.

"Can we sit for a sec'?"

I nodded. As we sat, I looked at his shoes. They were pointy and narrow and had a sizable heel.

"I don't know if I could make it a whole night with those things on."

He laughed. "Trust me, I don't wear them because they're comfortable."

We sat for a few minutes in the warm summer night. I tried to start the conversation.

"I like the makeup. I do a little every now and then, but you're obviously way better at it than me. Are you a professional?"

"Sometimes, but I don't wear makeup like this often. I don't have the time. Or money." He stretched his arms and legs.

"How'd you get into makeup, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's not complicated. I'm just a man that likes feeling pretty sometimes." He turned to me. "So, today's your birthday?"

I nodded. "My twenty-sixth."

"Well, for what it's worth, happy birthday, Al."

"Thanks, man."

I looked at his face. His skin looked smooth, flawless. His eyes were fierce and sultry. He had a strong, angular bone structure, not the more feminine features usually associated with men who wore makeup like that. It was different, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.

"You really do look good, Michael."

"I try."

"I wish I could look that pretty." I leaned in a little closer. "You're so sexy you don't even look real."

"Aw, you're sweet." I could feel his breath on my face. Primal attraction flooded my body.

"Those eyes, that skin...those lips..."

Before we knew it, we were kissing. It was a passionate kiss, with our tongues battling each other. He tasted so good!

"God, Michael, you're delicious!"

He grabbed my head and pulled me in for another. I was out of breath when we ripped ourselves apart again.

"You hungry for more, Al?"

"Fuck yeah, I want more! I wanna taste it all!"

It had been a while since I felt so much lust for another person. I had been wound up so tightly as of late. I needed this.

We kept slobbering all over each other like teenagers.

"Al, my apartment isn't far from here."

"Take me there before I jump you out in public."

In a few minutes we had walked to his place. I was starting to think he was walking us in a particular direction when we left the club after all.

He had a studio apartment, a bachelor pad. He pushed me down on the bed and looked at me hungrily.

"Don't move. I need to clean up or I'm getting makeup in places you didn't even know you had."

"Well gee, when you put that way I kind of want it more."

"Just relax, this will only take a few minutes."

He went to the bathroom, taking a second to kick off his shoes.

It had been so long since I had been this horny, this aroused. I wanted to ride the wave of lust and milk it for all it was worth. I took off all my clothes and tried to put myself into the most sexual, erotic pose possible. When he came back bare-faced I put my pinkie in my mouth naughtily. I knew my body language screamed

fuck me

, and that's what I wanted.

He saw me and dove on the bed without a word, kissing me so hard I thought I would have a bruise the next day. I ground my naked body against his clothed one as he sucked and nibbled my lower lip.

"You are so fucking hot!" he growled.

"You seem a little overdressed. Let me take care of that."

I took off his clothes and saw Michael in all his glory. With the heels he was slightly taller than I was, so he was probably 5'8" or 5'9" without them. Now that all the makeup and feminine clothing was gone he looked manlier. He had muscles and sharp features. He had gone from androgynous, almost otherworldly beauty to rugged handsomeness that was 100% masculine.

He kissed my neck and I almost melted. He started sucking on a spot and it shot my arousal through the roof.

"Michael, stop that or I'm gonna bust a nut right now."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Still, he stopped. He grabbed my chin and looked me in the eye.

"What do you want, Al? I'm versatile."

I kissed him. "I'm normally a bottom, myself."

"Alright, then." He dove in for another deep kiss, his hands all over my ass. I moaned.

"God, it's been too long! I need you, Michael!"

He grinned ear to ear. "Who am I to say no to the birthday boy?"

I moved down to his cock, which was standing at attention. It was skinny, but long, nearly eight inches. I gave the head a kiss before opening wide and bobbing my head on his cock. It was a bit of a process, but I was eventually able to take it all down my throat, letting my muscles ripple around his member.