I always knew we would be famous one day, that we were meant for something big. From the very first jam session in 2005, I felt it deep down - we were going to shake the world…or at least, I dared to believe it. To be honest, if anyone had told me back then that we would make it, become this huge band, I would have had serious doubts about the truthfulness of that statement.
But one can always dream. My father had always told me not to dream. To dream was to be disappointed and it was a waste of time. Dreaming was dangerous in my house. I chose not to listen to my father though. To me, the power of imagination was priceless and from an early age I was determined to do everything I possibly could to turn my dreams into reality and to live up to my expectations.
Ok I’m getting a little carried away here but now that you know the end of the story, let’s rewind to the beginning.
I was born in Ireland from a French father and an Irish mother. We lived in Rathmines, a Dublin suburb that our parents thought was a “cooler” alternative to the city itself. It had its own high street, buzzing pubs, bars, restaurants and brilliant vintage shops. There was always something to do, and we were never far from the heart of Dublin.
Growing up, I had a close group of friends. I had known them for as long as I could remember. We went to the same schools, joined the same clubs, and played the same sports. But what truly brought us together was music. Each of us played an instrument, and every song we played made our friendship stronger.
We had always been the best of friends, simply because we lived on the same street. None of us lived far away from each other, although Robbie and I were the nearest neighbours, with Jordan just around the corner. Damon lived only a little further up the street, and Dylan moved into the neighbourhood and joined our group of friends when we were around ten years old. We could walk between all five houses in under five minutes.
None of us were really Irish, not in the traditional sense. Jordan’s parents were Scottish and had moved to Dublin for work. Dylan came from Southampton in England. Robbie’s mum was Spanish, and his dad English. Only Damon had Irish parents, and he looked the part, fair-skinned and all. The rest of us had darker complexions, which meant we could soak up a tan easily whenever we went abroad. Dublin, as you might guess, didn’t exactly offer much sun.
Jordan was the youngest, and Dylan the oldest, although we were all close in age and over the years, our respective birthdays were always a good excuse to have a party. Dylan was born in January 90, Damon in march, Rob and I were both born a few days apart in May, and finally Jordan in August.
Then there was Rachel, the only girl in the neighborhood who could keep up with us. She wanted to join in our games, our adventures, our music. Funny, smart, and pretty, she was our number-one fan whenever we performed together. She wasn’t just on the sidelines; she was part of our gang. And when puberty hit, things naturally changed and we started dating.
I loved her, and I loved my friends. I couldn’t imagine life without any of them. I was especially close to Jordan. We spent so much time together, always laughing, always playing music. He had picked up a bass and learned fast, drawn to it because it reminded him of the music his father loved. Whenever we hung out, we’d be jamming, experimenting, pushing each other to try new sounds.
I played both piano and guitar. I’d learned piano around the age of seven, mostly because my father wouldn’t stop insisting I practice. He didn’t want to waste money on lessons for no results. But as soon as we started playing together, the guitar became mine. I carried it everywhere, playing whenever I could, slowly teaching myself to write songs. I had a good ear for music; melodies came to me easily, and I could play an impressive number of songs on instinct. Jordan used to joke that I was a walking jukebox, and maybe he wasn’t wrong.
At school, and in every spare moment I could find, I had started writing lyrics. Creativity had become a habit. I wrote about anything that caught my attention, anything I experienced or witnessed. I carried a notebook everywhere, scribbling ideas whenever inspiration struck.
Whenever I was not hanging out with Jordan, or with Rachel, you would most likely find me with Robbie. He was my next-door neighbour, and he was always, always there for me. Most of our time together was at night, talking, laughing, or just being there for each other. Robbie had this quiet reliability, I could always count on him, especially when things at home felt too heavy to bear.
Because, to be honest, having the best friends I could imagine came with a flipside: I had the worst family. Or at least, that’s how it felt to me at the time.
My father drank too much. Every night after work, he’d disappear into the pubs, coming home late, drunk, and often violent. He didn’t hit me regularly, though it had happened a few times, but the threat of it was always there. A harsh grip on my arm, a push against the wall, a slap across the face, he was an angry drinker.
I think drinking was his escape from the deadening routine of a boring job, from the feeling of being a useless part of society, from the obligations of feeding a family he seemed barely to care for. Oddly, he was nicer to my brother Thomas and my sister Amy than he was to me. I made a promise to myself early on; I would never be like him. I wanted my life to be different. I wanted it to be exceptional.
The one thing I did inherit from him was French. Born in France, he had moved to Ireland as a teenager and spoke almost no English at home. We had to speak French with him, or he’d get angry, insisting that we’d never learn otherwise. Even between my brother, sister, and me, French became the default whenever he was around. My mother never mastered it, but she understood enough that it became the language of our house. It wasn’t exactly a gentle way to learn a language because it was forced, but we did learn it.
My mother, unlike my father, didn’t drink. But she wasn’t very affectionate either. I can’t remember her ever cuddling me as a child. At home, I didn’t feel much love, and that absence shaped everything around me.
She was a Christian, not that there was anything wrong with that, but she really had some pretty strong beliefs. Her faith was rigid, unyielding. She seemed unable to make allowances, following the dictates of the church without question, stubborn and unwavering. She had endured an abusive marriage and a life that, by most measures, was painfully ordinary; cleaning, cooking, shopping, raising the kids, all with little appreciation or love. I think that she believed God had intended it that way to make her stronger so she was just putting up with it.
She was a strict mother. Even though she saw how my father treated me, she never confronted him. Whenever I complained, she would tell me that God had a plan, that everything we went through in life happened for a reason. At the time, it felt like those words were meant to soothe, but really, they left me feeling more alone.
Consequently, I didn’t particularly enjoy spending time at home.
Robbie lived in the house right next to mine. Our mothers were friends and had basically given birth a few days apart. Growing up, they loved reminding us how they used to put us in the same playpen, so our friendship went way back. We were all a tight group, but Rob and I were inseparable, and everyone knew it.
We knew each other inside and out. We spent so much time together because, whenever I needed to escape my father when he came home drunk, I went to Rob’s. If my parents fought, or I had a run-in with my brother or sister, I would climb out my window or walk straight out the door, heading for his house. Any excuse to leave, I took it. The peace and love in Rob’s house were priceless to me.
Rob and his family understood what I was running from. I must have been only seven or eight the first time I bolted to his place in the evening to escape my father’s violent outbursts. I knocked at the door, and Rob’s mother let me in without hesitation. She comforted me as if she already knew, and quietly asked my mother if I could stay the night, sensing just how scared I was to go back home.
Rob’s mother understood what I was going through in a way my own parents never could. She always there to hold me, to make me feel special and loved. Over the years, it had become natural, I came to see Rob’s parents as my second family and his house as a refuge. I’m sure Rob’s mother tried to ease the situation at home by talking to my own mother, and eventually there must have been an unspoken understanding: I could slip out of the house to be cared for elsewhere. That way, my mother knew I was safe, and my father was happy that I wasn’t home most of the time. He didn’t have to bother with me.
So even though I spent many nights of my childhood sleeping in my best friend’s bed, I always went home after school. That’s where I was supposed to be. But after dinner, something would always push me out the door, and I’d find myself knocking at Rob’s, hoping they’d let me stay just one more night.
It was during one of those nights that my relationship with Rob suddenly changed.
We had just turned eighteen and were on the brink of taking our Leaving Certificate. That day, there was so much to revise that I didn’t even bother going home. We left school and headed straight to Rob’s, up to his room like we always did.
I wasn’t feeling particularly studious, so I flipped through the new NME magazine we’d just bought. We spent hours talking about music, the bands we loved, the songs that inspired us, the albums we couldn’t stop playing. Rob was musical too, a talented guitarist, and we’d often play together. I’d show him the melodies I was working on, and we’d start piecing songs together. He was always supportive, never hiding his admiration for my songwriting. “You’ve got an incredible talent,” he’d say, grinning. “If we ever make it big, people will have you to thank.” And in that moment, in that small room filled with guitars and magazines, it felt like anything was possible.
I had a good voice too, and I loved singing, but so did Rob. He was far more confident than I was. I was happy to sing behind closed doors, but performing in front of people was another matter entirely. Rob, on the other hand, thrived on it. His voice carried energy and passion, and whenever we played with our friends, he naturally took the lead. It gave him a chance to show off, and he loved every second of it.
We spent countless hours learning songs by The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Queen, The Eagles, Don McLean, Elvis, Bob Dylan, and above all, U2. We were huge fans, soaking in every note, every lyric, every riff.
Then one day, after covering hundreds of songs, it just happened. A brand-new melody appeared out of nowhere. Well, it was coming from us, but it felt as if it was coming from somewhere else entirely. The songs seemed to write themselves, and the feeling was incredible. We were thrilled, exhilarated to be creating something original together.
Hours were spent in Damon’s garage, where the drums were, experimenting with sounds, trying out rhythms, and letting melodies emerge naturally. As we realized we could invent our own music, not just play what others had written, it became something magical. That was when it all started to feel real, like we were on the brink of something bigger, and nothing could stop us.
Damon was definitely sticking to the drums. He didn’t have a very strong body and he was quite thin, but somehow he managed to hit the drums with so much energy and enthusiasm that he convinced us very early on he was meant to be the drummer.
Whenever I wasn’t playing, Dylan was on the keyboard. Except for when I was writing songs, I played both electric and acoustic guitars, Rob did too if we needed it, but I felt more comfortable finding a melody on the piano. Jordan was getting really good on bass.
And then there was Rachel, our groupie, our number-one fan. She made sure everyone knew how good we were, gathering an audience whenever we played in pubs and bars. She believed in us completely, and that belief gave us the confidence to keep going, keep playing, and keep creating.
I was still sitting on Rob’s bed when I heard my dad screaming from downstairs.
“Mark, if you’re in here, you’d better come home right now!”
“Shit!” I exclaimed, looking at Rob and springing to my feet.
“What the fuck does he want now?” Rob muttered as he headed out the bedroom.
“Let’s just pretend we’re not here.”
“He knows we’re here, come on, I’ll make sure you can stay here,” he said, confident.
I followed him reluctantly as we crept down the stairs.
As soon as I was close enough to him my dad roughly grabbed my arm and tried to throw me out the door.
“Hey, leave him the fuck alone!” Rob shouted at him as I passed by him on my way back inside, as there was no way I was going to follow him home and do as I was told, and Rob knew that.
“Excuse me?” he asked him back with an angry voice, looking at Rob straight in the eye.
“I said, leave him the fuck alone!” Rob repeated, locking eyes with him. His determination made my father hesitate.
“We were studying,” Rob continued. “Exams are next week, so whatever you want him to do tonight, it ain’t gonna happen.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah! We’re eighteen now, and soon, trust me, he's out of your boring life forever.”
My father let out a laugh. “Good luck with that. Why don’t you try to find yourself a job first? Now, let’s go Mark! Your mother’s waiting.”
“Go where? I’ve got better things to do!” I shot back angrily.
“NOW!” he yelled, and pushed Rob away. But Rob fought back, pushing him out the door.
“He’s not coming with you!” Rob said with a determined tone of voice.
Just then, Rob’s mother came home. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“Jane, can you tell your son to respect his elders?” my father barked.
“That’s okay, James,” she said softly. “Mark can stay here tonight. They need to study.”
“Like that’s gonna make them smarter!” he sneered, then turned to me, spitting the words out.
“Fine. You get to explain to your mother why you didn’t come with us. I didn’t want you around anyway.”
I glared at him as he stormed off, giving up…again.
I turned to Rob’s mother. “Thanks, Jane,” I said quietly.
She sighed, eyes filled with understanding. “I’m sorry he’s doing this to you,” she said, pulling me into a quick, comforting hug.
“Come on, you two,” she began saying to change the subject. “go back upstairs, I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”
We nodded and went back to Rob's room.
“Fuck, I hate him!” I muttered as I stepped inside. “I can’t believe you stood up to him like that.” I was genuinely impressed.
“I can’t stand this anymore,” Rob spat, his voice tight with frustration. “This has gotta stop. You’re staying here from now on, alright? And as soon as we make enough money, you can just leave and never go back.”
“If only that could be true,” I said softly.
“It can be. It will be!” he said confidently.
“Yeah, I guess,” I smiled faintly. He knew how badly I wanted to finally leave that house and be independent.
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms gently around me. I let him hug me for a moment, feeling the comfort and safety only he could give.
“This isn’t right,” he said softly. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”
For a moment, I hugged him back. It felt natural, protective, safe. But it lasted a bit too long. I pulled back slowly, noticing his gaze linger on me before he quickly looked away.
“Well,” he said, shaking off the tension, “come on. Let’s study a little and prove your asshole of a father wrong.”
We studied quietly that night, and I stayed with Rob’s family again. Dinner was calm. We talked briefly about the upcoming exams and the important gig we had the next day. But every time I glanced at Rob, I felt him watching me. His reassuring smile cut through all my tension, making everything feel lighter. No matter what was happening at home, that smile could make my problems disappear, if only for a moment.
I could always see real understanding and care when he looked at me. He had such great eyes. They were incredible, mainly green, with subtle shades that seemed to shift depending on his mood. He had this uncanny ability to speak without words, to communicate feelings with just a look. It gave him charisma, confidence… the kind that made people naturally drawn to him. Combine that with his voice, and it was no wonder we all agreed, he was destined to be our frontman.
He was a born entertainer and he was great to hang out with and he loved being the center of attention. You could never get bored around him. He was full of wild ideas about what to do to entertain ourselves, and I have to admit, those ideas got us into trouble more than once. Jordan was similar in his own way, always joking but in a smart way. He was clever with his humour.
Rob had always been popular at school. All the girls were drooling over him. Well, to be honest, they were drooling over me too, but Rob, there was just something about him. He could make anyone laugh, and he was so nice and sweet to everyone. He always thought of other people before he thought of himself. He just had this capacity to love and show emotion. When we were together, the attention was definitely more on him than on me. And I’m sure it had something to do with his eyes. I swear, you could see his soul in them. Girls were drawn to them like moths to a flame.
But even though he was confident and charming in public, I knew that sometimes it was just a mask. He was putting on a show to keep people from seeing how he really felt, something he still does even ten years later. He was excellent at hiding it, but I could see through him. I think I was probably the only person he felt comfortable enough with to truly be himself.
Around me, he was different, shyer, more reserved, serious, sincere. He didn’t joke around as much; he just was… him. I knew sides of him that few people ever saw: his doubts, fears, insecurities, things he probably didn’t even share with his own mother.
That night, all I could see was how much he cared for me, and it was unsettling in a way I hadn’t expected. Lately, I’d been feeling awkward around him. Something had shifted in his attitude. He was more protective, insisting I stay the night, wanting to hang out, never wanting me to go home. I knew it was partly because he worried about my father, and that I was safer with him. But deep down, I began to suspect it wasn’t just that. There was something else there, something unspoken, a tension I could feel more and more.
We went back to his room after dinner, but studying was the last thing on our minds. We each took a quick shower, played some video games, and then picked up the guitars.
“Hey, listen to this riff. What d’you think ?” I asked, strumming a few notes for him.
“Fucking awesome. When did you come up with that ?” he replied, eyes lighting up.
“Just now.”
“Doesn’t it sound a bit like Muse? ‘Showbiz,’ maybe ?”
“Does it ?” I played it again. “Shit! Am I plagiarizing without even realizing it?”
He laughed, “Dunno, just sounds similar.”
“Fuck it, whatever. I’m done. I’m knackered,” I said, putting down my guitar and crawling under the bedcovers.
Rob picked up my guitar and ran through a few U2 songs. I listened, thinking about how I wanted to ask him something but couldn’t quite find the words.
Again, the evening had been strange. We hadn’t said much, but we’d communicated a lot through glances, small gestures, a shared rhythm only we seemed to understand. That connection between us, it was growing stronger every day.
We never needed to fill the silence and to talk together. We always had things to say, but sometimes just hanging out quietly felt right. Comfortable. Natural. The silence never felt awkward.
I was almost beginning to drift off to sleep when Rob joined me under the covers. I turned slightly toward the edge of the bed to give him more space. I had my back to him but after only a few seconds, he sort of snuggled up to me. He wasn’t exactly touching me, but he was lying close enough so that I could feel his breath and his body-heat on me, and it felt good. Too good. Sexually good. Once again, I wanted him to press his body harder against mine. I wanted to feel the weight of his body on me. I didn’t move though and I knew he wasn’t going to either, he never did.
I was straight. I was dating Rachel. I was straight I kept telling myself almost every night. I was fucking straight, but I couldn’t help feeling mixed emotions and I couldn’t help being sexually curious when it came to him.
I had been suspecting it for a while now. He wasn’t interested in dating anyone seriously, whereas I was in a fairly serious relationship with my girlfriend. When I was hanging out with her and we couldn’t spend time together, he’d either hang out with our group of friends or, as he’d always tell me, he’d go to Dublin to meet more interesting girls than the ones from our school. I didn’t really have any reasons to doubt him, after all, dozens of girls would line up after our gigs in pubs just to talk to him.
But I hadn’t actually met any of these girls and whenever I tried to talk to him about dating, he’d brush it off with some clever comment or joke. I wasn’t the only one who noticed that maybe he wasn’t interested in girls the way most guys were… our friends had their suspicions too. But they weren’t as close to him as I was. They didn’t spend nearly as much time with him, didn’t share the quiet, late-night moments that had become our routine.
I kept telling myself that I was just horny at night like this, I kept wishing that he’d make some sort of move on me. I wanted him to put his arm around me. I wanted him to try and kiss me or touch me, damn, I fucking wanted to have sex with him but I was too afraid to admit it to myself, even less to him.
I knew the main reason why I was feeling this way was that I could feel how much Rob wanted to be close to me, all the time. Just thinking about the fact that he was gay and probably interested in fooling around with me was turning me on.
Once again, my cock began to stiffen, but this time, I decided to do something about it. I took a deep breath as I worked up the courage to actually ask him once and for all.
“Rob?” I whispered.
“Yeah?” he replied quietly.
“You still awake?”
“You know that was just me talking, right?” he joked.
I let out a small chuckle and turned to face him. Our eyes met for a brief second, and I felt that familiar mix of comfort and tension.
“I mean… do you wanna sleep, or… can we talk about something?” I asked hesitantly.
He frowned slightly. “Well, we can talk. What about?”
“I’m not sure… I just…I just feel…,” I took another deep breath. “Fuck,” I huffed. “You know what, forget it. Let’s just sleep,” I mumbled, unable to find the right words, slowly leaning back.
“No tell me, what is it? I’m gonna make you tell me now anyway,” he insisted.
“Ok. Look. I was wondering…like…how do you feel about girls, like, really?” I asked him.
“I…. why are you asking me this?”
“Cause, I dunno. All these girls…,” I started, gesturing vaguely to the fans who hung around us after gigs or at school. “You’re not even remotely interested in dating any of them, are you?”
“I’m not,” he said simply. “Why would I want to?” he added with a mischievous grin, probably trying to make me think he was joking.
“Why don’t you want to date them?” I asked, curious.
“Because it’s too much trouble,” he said casually.
“Is it?” I asked suspiciously and he looked at me as if he had suddenly understood why I had brought up the subject.
“I just, I just don’t want to,” he mumbled. “I want to focus on the band, I wanna play music and stuff…, I don’t …," he trailed off, letting out a small sigh, and stopped, as if the words themselves were complicated.
He sat up on the bed, and I propped myself on one arm, turning to face him. I waited, watching him, giving him space to speak or even just to look at me - but he didn’t. He couldn’t. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere between his hands and the floor.
“Rob, you can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything, I’m your best friend so just say it, it’s alright,” I said in a reassuring tone of voice.
I sat up fully and waited. After a few seconds, he lifted his head, and our eyes met. I could see a mix of shock and fear in his gaze. I just stared back and tried to give him strength, letting him know it was safe. He knew what I was waiting to hear, but still, he stayed quiet, and I noticed tears forming in his eyes.
“Are you gay?” I asked softly, not really as a question.
He took a deep breath and looked down again, processing the words. After a moment, he met my gaze once more.
“What if I am?” he said with confidence in his voice.
“I don’t care,” I said gently. “It doesn’t change anything. I just wanted to know.”
He looked away and sighed as he said, "I don’t think I can talk to you about this."
"Why can’t you? We’ve always told each other everything. You can talk to me about this, it’s fine."
"No. This is different. How'd you figure it out?"
I stayed quiet for a moment, unsure how to answer without revealing too much of what I was feeling myself. I took a breath and chose my words carefully.
“’Cause you’ve been acting differently around me. You look at me differently, you smile at me differently. You always try to protect me. When we’re together… it just feels closer.”
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. “Alright, stop. I get it,” he said, half a smile breaking through. “I thought I was being more subtle than that.”
“I know you. You can’t fool me. I can read you like an open book.”
Silence settled between us again. He didn’t say anything, so I pushed gently, careful not to sound judgmental.
“You ever been with a guy?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he answered softly, almost under his breath.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. Curiosity slipped into my voice. “Who?”
“A few guys in Dublin…,” he replied vaguely, avoiding my eyes.
“Oh…,” I nodded, finally understanding why he’d go to Dublin by himself and never talk to me about it.
“And you know, Charlie, from school?”
“Charlie? Wait, he’s gay… !” I asked a bit stunned.
“Yeah, very!” he answered, chuckling lightly.
My mouth dropped open and I chuckled. I actually thought that was kind of hot, as I pictured them briefly together.
“Damn!” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t see that coming!”
Rob smiled at me he was starting to relax a little. There was no more fear in his eyes. He could tell that I was ready to hear this and that I was genuinely with it.
“He doesn’t look gay or act gay at all,” I said, still a bit surprised.
“Well, neither do I… ,” he replied with a small smile.
“That’s true,” I said, meeting his gaze. I noticed again how confident and composed he looked. There was something about the way he carried himself, the way he spoke and moved that attracted me to him He had a great body, tanned skin, dark hair, a noticeable six pack and strong arms. His voice was deep and he wasn’t obviously gay in the way he spoke or acted. He was very attractive. And I couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that I did find him so.
As conflicted as I felt about my own emotions, I couldn’t help but want to talk to him about them. I was nervous, unsure how to begin. I had already managed to get him to open up to me, and I wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about he felt about me.
He looked briefly into my eyes, but looked away and sighed, ill-at-ease.
“Is he, like, your boyfriend? I never see you hang out with him.”
“No, I never do. We just get together sometimes, it’s just sex. He’s fun.”
“I see," I smiled at him. "Must be hard to keep this to yourself.”
He gazed at me and shrugged.
“Do you need a hug?” I said to lighten up the mood.... and if I was honest with myself, to feel his body against mine again.
He laughed slightly. “Sure,” he answered with another slight shrug.
I shifted my body closer to him. He moved and let me wrapped my legs around him. I held him against me and he rested his forehead on my shoulder and sighed. We didn’t move, we didn’t speak a word, we just enjoyed the closeness and again, I felt how connected we were.
After a short moment, he started to hold me tighter and drew my body closer to his. He clung onto me, our bodies quite close to each other, our t-shirt covered chests pressing together. I felt his breathing change and I knew he was crying a little.
“Don’t cry, man, it’s okay,” I told him reassuringly.
“I know,” he answered with confidence on his voice. “It’s just so hard to talk to you about this.”
I didn’t respond right away. I just continued holding him for a while.
“Why can’t you talk to me about it?” I eventually asked him.
He dried his eyes and kept his tight grip on me. His breathing evened out and he lifted his head a little.
I felt his lips on my ear. For a few seconds he didn’t say anything.
But then he spoke.
“Cause I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "I love you so much it hurts."
I froze. I hadn’t expected him to be so straightforward. I instantly felt a wave of lust rushing through me as he whispered those words into my ear.
“I… I know, I kinda figured,” I stuttered, unable to say anything else.
He pulled back slightly and finally looked me in the eye. I could see so many emotions in his eyes, vulnerability, fear, and trust. It felt as if he was trying to look right into me, to understand me as much as I was trying to understand him, to read my mind…
“I know you’re straight,” he said softly. “I know I can’t have you. I just don’t want to lose your friendship. But I had to tell you. Please… don’t weird out on me okay?”
I placed my hand behind me and pulled away from him a little with a sigh. I wasn't fully hard but I was worried he would notice that I was turned on by what he was telling me.
“I won’t,” I promised him. But I knew something would change. Things could not be the same. Because I knew I was going to act on those feelings I had. I was sexually curious, and I felt attracted to him. I briefly thought about Rachel, but I knew she would not find out about this.
"Fuck,” he breathed. “I didn’t know how to tell you this. How d’you feel about it?"
"I dunno. I’ve only just started suspecting that you might be gay… How long have you known?" I asked.
"I think I’ve always known," he answered. "But I guess it became clear to me when I was like … thirteen. I’ve always been more drawn to boys," he smiled and then added, “I’ve always been….”
He stopped mid-sentenced and looked into my eyes.
I held his gaze. "How long have you had feelings for me?" I blurted out.
“Don’t make me say it,” he said as his eyes left mine.
“How long?” I pressed gently.
“Since I was thirteen,” he admitted quietly and I took a deep breath, letting the words sink in.
“But the last couple of years have been really hard,” he admitted.
“And you would let me sleep in your bed, and not say anything?”
“I couldn’t say anything. I was just happy to have you there, even if I couldn’t touch you. I liked having you close. I didn’t want to lose your friendship. You’re too important to me.”
He paused, then took a breath. “Mark… I don’t want this to make you stop coming over. If you need to get away from your place, please, still come over here. You don’t have to worry about me or what I feel, I’ll deal with it. Actually, I’m glad you know now. It will make things easier for me, and if you ever feel uncomfortable, or if I’m crossing a line, you can just tell me to stop.”
He looked at me intensely, searching my face.
“Promise me.”
I watched him and for a few seconds, I wondered how I could tell him that maybe, just maybe, I didn’t want him to keep his hands off me.
Evidently, I felt something for him that was going beyond friendship. I cared for him deeply, I loved him. But I wasn’t sure what that meant. … was I gay? Did I just want to try? Was this just lust, curiosity? This could ruin everything between us. What if I misread my own feelings? What if I realized later that I didn’t feel the same way? I couldn’t hurt him or risk losing what we already had.
But I loved him. I had that feeling in my chest that told me I would be devastated if I were to lose him. He was my best friend, we knew each other better than we knew anyone else. We shared everything, and he meant more to me than I could put into words. He was someone I could turn to when things got too hard at home, someone who would listen without judging and always try to help. Losing him was not something I could imagine.
“Yeah of course, I promise. I still wanna come over here and hang out. I told you, it doesn’t change anything. You’re my best friend, and I …I love you too, you know,” I said calmly.
“What?” He asked, a bit taken aback. I think he heard in my tone of voice that I meant more than just ‘I love you as a friend’
“What do you mean ?” he asked quietly.
“I mean… I love you,” I said, searching for the right words. “Because I can’t even imagine not hanging out with you anymore. That just doesn’t make sense to me. Come on, we’re talking about you and me. You’re always there for me. I can always count on you. You protect me, all the time.”
I paused, taking a breath. “And if I’m bringing this up tonight, it’s because I feel… conflicted. I don’t fully understand what I’m feeling. But I know one thing for sure, I don’t want to lose you.”
He raised his brows. “You feel conflicted?”
I stayed silent and he waited for me to continue. He could sense I wasn’t finished.
"Yeah I do,” I admitted quietly. “When we’re together, like this… at night… I don’t know…. I just feel… it just feels different. It’s just confusing.”
I really didn’t know how to explain it to him. I didn’t even understand it myself.
I swallowed and looked at him.
“I just feel … like … I could try things with you… and it wouldn’t be weird… or wrong.”
I could tell he wasn’t expecting me to say this at all.
“Are you saying you might want to…do stuff,” he asked cautiously.
I rubbed the back of my neck as I answered, "Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe, I guess I’m just curious. But I don’t want, oh god, I really don't know…,” I said, letting my hand fall back onto my lap.
He just stared at me for a few seconds until he said with confidence,
“Let’s be honest here. I’ve been fantasizing about kissing you for almost five years…. You can’t tell me stuff like that!”
I smiled and gazed into his eyes, loving how bright and hopeful they looked at that instant,
“Well… do it if you want!” I responded straightforwardly.
I so wanted to know what it would feel like. I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I was turned on. I wanted to do things with him, I was sure of that, it was all I could think about. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about what it would do to our friendship, or how it would affect my relationship with Rachel.
He looked at me like I could not possibly be serious.
“Are you for real?”
I swallowed,
“Yeah, I’m curious. We can try. I don’t mind,” I simply said.
He looked deep into my eyes again, hesitated for a only couple of seconds and then shifted his body closer to mine.
“Well, you know what?” he said, that familiar self-assurance slipping back into his voice. “If I’m gonna ruin everything between us, I might as well take everything I can with me!”
Before I had time to think twice about it, he had wrapped his legs around me again. He placed one hand behind my lower back, the other behind my neck. Then he drew me closer and his lips were on mine.
It felt so electric and goosebumps ran over me, followed by another wave of lust rushing through my body when I realized what was happening. His tongue played with my lips and his chest was tightly pressed against mine. I hadn’t expected the feeling to be this strong. Fuck, maybe I was gay. That was the first thought that went through my head. But I didn’t care.
He was slightly smiling as he was kissing me, I could tell, but I wasn’t kissing him back, yet. I didn’t know what to do and I still couldn’t believe how much I liked feeling his lips against mine. It felt so different to kissing Rachel. There was more pressure, more intensity. He was turning me on so much more.
He stopped briefly and we looked at each other and then his eyes were on my lips.
He kissed me again and I felt his tongue trying to push its way into my mouth, as if asking for permission to part my lips, I snapped back to reality and started to kiss him back. I opened my mouth slightly and let my tongue play with his.
The kiss was gentle and hesitant at first but when he saw that I wasn’t stopping him and that I was kissing him too, he closed his eyes and drew me even closer to him, if it was even possible. He ran his hand through my hair and kissed me more passionately, my cock stiffened instantly. There was an intensity to the kiss that I had never experienced before.
He pushed his tongue deeper into my mouth, his fingers still running through my hair and moaned. I couldn’t believe how amazing this felt. I was rock hard by now and I could feel that he was too, our crotches rubbing together.
Rob caressed the back of my head with his fingers and then pushed his body hard against mine, forcing me to lie down on my back, him on top of me.
Still kissing, his mouth moved down and he licked the underside of my chin and traced my jawline with his tongue. Then, he placed a few harder kisses on my neck. I was fucking loving it. It felt so good, he felt so good... but I couldn't help but say something, “Wait Rob…. Rob,” I repeated.
“Oh no, Mark please, I don’t wanna stop, please don’t stop me,” he begged, pressing his lips against mine again.
“No, I just, fuck,” I told him in between kisses.
“What,” he breathed.
I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were making out and that it was fucking awesome.
He looked at me and smiled. I think he knew what I was thinking. Damn, he was so fucking gorgeous when he smiled. His whole face lit up and his eyes were full of passion.
“Don’t overthink it!”
He kissed me again, small, long kisses, unable to stop. He eventually started nibbling at my neck again. I loved having my neck kissed. I knew it was a really sensitive part of my body but with Rob it was insanely good.
“Ohh fuck yeah!” I moaned. He must have felt my body shivering and quivering because he applied more pressure and made me moan harder. Then he sensually kissed my whole face, my cheek, my nose, my forehead. When he pulled back, he looked at me, his hand firmly caressed my stomach as he asked, his voice full of need,
“Please take this off!”
I was just wearing a T-shirt and my boxer briefs and so was he. I could feel his cock pressing against me. I pulled my tee over my head in one quick motion. We were both breathing hard and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him as he started moving his attention to my chest.
When he got to my nipples, I exhaled and inhaled again, loving the feel of his tongue against them. He made them hard and kept teasing me for a while. I was so turned on, I thought I would cum whether he kept kissing me or not. It was the most intense sexual experience I had ever had. Even my first time with Rachel hadn’t made me feel like this. I knew he could feel it.
He licked his way down, kissed my navel and started pulling down my boxers-briefs.
He was doing all the work, I was just enjoying it. I was overwhelmed with excitement. I didn’t know what to do with myself, he was in control. He could do whatever he wanted to with me and that was obviously the way he had wanted it.
As soon as he had pulled down my boxer-briefs, he stared at my hard on, mesmerized. He didn’t touch it, just looked at it and then he lay down on top of me, kissing me again softly on the lips. He kissed the side of my face and whispered into my ear again. This whispering thing was really working for me.
“You’re so hot. I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this but… damn, you make me so fucking hard.”
“Fuck, Rob,” I breathed.
“I swear, you have no idea how many times I had to jerk off because of you.”
I smiled. “I did too.”
He let out a small laugh. It was true, I had jerked off thinking about him a few times.
“Really?” he asked, smiling.
“Really,” I confessed. I could tell he liked that.
“Damn, you’re beautiful, I’m so attracted to you. Let me show you how much I want you.”
I moaned, even more turned on by his confession as well as mine and loving the fact that he was so into me. I did have a pretty well-defined and well-developed body, just like him. He had Spanish blood from his mother and I had French blood, but my skin could actually get darker than his.
He pulled me in for another kiss and looked into my eyes. His eyes were full of love and need. He really wanted me. I could see it, I could feel it, I could sense it. He ran his thumb over my lips and he kissed my ear, sending shivers up and down my spine and I felt his hand grasp my rock hard erection. He started stroking me gently and it felt amazing,
“Ohhh, feels so good, I need to cum so bad.”
“I know, I’m gonna suck your dick now, ok?” he whispered in my ear, “please let me, I want to taste you,” he whispered.
“Oh fuck yeah, do whatever you want,” I breathed, ready for him to do it.
He kissed his way down my body, still smiling and lowered his head to my cock. He stroked it a couple of times and licked the head gently before swallowing half of it. His mouth felt so good, moist and warm around it. I could not believe I had my cock in Rob’s mouth, the thought and the sight of it almost sent me over the edge but I tried to hold back. He held it tightly in his mouth and started sucking on the head, licking all the precum. I was so fucking turned on, I was leaking pretty bad.
Then he started wetting my whole erection with his tongue and took the head again in his mouth and started going down on it, moving his head up and down. He was holding the base of my cock with one hand while caressing my right pec with the other. I moaned and started to play with his dark hair. He took the head between his lips and sucked again, it felt so good, I knew I was not going to last much longer. He started sucking me faster, bobbing his head up and down, taking my cock as far as he could in his mouth without gagging, when he relaxed his throat and took me down to the base. I moaned so hard. He pulled up and did it again.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned hard. “Uggg, so guys really do give better head than girls!”
He let out a laugh,
“I’m good at this!”
He took his hand away from my pec and started playing with my balls. He swallowed them into his mouth one by one, making me quiver, and then he resumed sucking my shaft, easily taking it down his throat a few more times. He was indeed really good at this and I could only moan.
I could tell that he was stroking himself as he was blowing me and his moans became hotter and shorter. He let my cock slip out of his mouth and began jacking it furiously. That was it for me.
“Rob, fuck, I’m gonna…..ughhhhhh.” He wrapped his mouth around the head again and a wave of pleasure stronger than I had ever felt before swept over me and I started cumming hard, moaning and shooting my load like I had never shot it before.
Rob kept his mouth tight around it through the whole orgasm and swallowed my jizz. I could hear him moan louder as he came himself, my cock still in his mouth.
He continued sucking on me long after I had stopped cumming and then he licked me clean thoroughly. It didn’t seem like he wanted to let go and I didn’t want him to stop either. I loved feeling his mouth on my cock even if my orgasm had subsided. He stroked it a few more times, then came back up, lying next to me. We didn’t say anything for a few seconds until I decided to break the silence.
“Damn,” I told him with a sigh.
“So, how did you like it?” he asked, letting out a small giggle.
“A bit too much I think,” I said, laughing a little.
We lay side by side until he turned on his side, placed his leg on top of mine and snuggled closer to me. He kissed me again on the cheek,
“Man, I can’t believe you swallowed it!”
“Hey, I want everything you’ve got,” he said and I smiled, looking briefly into his eyes.
“How you feeling?” he asked me.
“Pretty good. I’m not freaked out if that’s what you mean… you?”
“I’m…," he began saying, “look, I don’t know what this means to you, and I don’t care right now. I’m just glad it happened.”
I let out a small chuckle and turned on my side to face him.
“So you’re gay, uh?”
“Yep. Full blown gay,” he confirmed with a laugh, “not even slightly interested in fucking a girl!”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Shit!” I said with a heavy sigh.
He laughed,
“Shit.... my best friend’s gay? Or shit… I had gay sex with my best friend and I liked it?”
“You know which one it is.”
“I told you, don’t overthink it, it was just fun. Doesn’t make you gay.”
“Doesn’t it?” I asked, skeptically, rolling over onto my back.
He shushed me and began caressing my chest and stomach. He did that for a moment and I could tell how much he loved touching me.
“Damn, I love touching you,” he sighed and I smiled at him.
“Why do you love me so much?” I asked. I could tell he was surprised by my question.
He gathered his thoughts and kept running his fingers over my skin as he said,
“’Cuz you’re you. And I love you. You’re perfect. Every time you speak, every move you make, I can’t believe how much I love you. I can barely stand it, your smile, your laugh, everything, everything you do, I love everything about you!” he said and kissed my cheek briefly.
“Damn, how could you keep your feelings to yourself for so long?”
“I dunno, I don’t want you to get into trouble. And I wasn’t that good at hiding my feelings, was I? You saw through me.”
“What are we gonna do?" I asked, unsure about everything.
“Nothing. We don’t have to do anything. I’m not asking you to be gay for me, or to break up with Rachel. But if you want us to be together once in a while, I’m here, whenever you want. I won’t tell anyone.”
“D'you think I’m gay? Is this why you fell in love with me, you felt something?” I asked him.
I was already starting to think about all that it would change in my life….my relationship with Rachel, with my parents. It all seemed too complicated. But I couldn’t deny how I felt for him. I had to be at least bisexual I thought.
“Maybe," he said. “You’re… I don’t know. You’re so special. You’ve always been. There’s just something about you I’ve always loved. You’re talented, artistic, sweet… I don’t care whether you’re gay or not. Time will tell. I’d be thrilled if you were, but it’s up to you. You don’t have to put a label on it. I didn’t for a long time. I know what I want, I want to be with you - but I can’t ask you…” I sighed,
“Well, I loved what just happened. And I don’t feel weird about it. That must mean…”
“It doesn’t matter."
“I knew I wanted this to happen. I kinda figured I'd enjoy it!”
He smiled and gave a small laugh,
“Five years damnit! You couldn’t have realized it sooner?”
I just shrugged.
“Well, it was worth the wait!” he added.
I laughed too.
“Just promise me something!” he said seriously.
“What?”
“Whatever happens between us, we won’t let it get in the way of the band, or of our friendship. We have to make this band work, for the five of us, and it has to remain our main priority.”
I smiled, because the band was my priority too,
“Yeah, of course, we have to.”
Although I knew that whatever would happen, it’d have some kind of impact on the future of the band.
We got under the covers and talked some more. After a short moment, he did what I had secretly wanted him to do so many times. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight against him. We drifted off to sleep a lot faster than I thought we would, considering what had just happened…. But then again, we were always so comfortable around each other, this time was no exception.
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