Page 55 of Give Me What You Will

His stupid, aching heart felt like it was being shot like a bird from the sky. Yeah, he probably should go. There was nothing left for him here anyway. Sam nodded and left.

Fuck this night.

Fuck Frankie for attacking Caz for no goddamned reason.

Pulse thundering in his temple and feelings swirling, Sam stormed out. The front entrance to the arena was crowded, and he had no desire to fight his way through the throng gathering for the main event. So instead, he went to the employee-only stairwell, knowing it led to the underground parking garage. Shoving the door open, it slammed into the concrete wall of the stairwell, echoing down the empty metal stairs. He hadn’t realized he was shaking until he reached the landing, unsure whether he wanted to run or collapse.

“Sammy!”

He turned and saw that Frankie had followed him.

He ignored him, making his way down the vacant stairwell.

“Stop!” Frankie ordered.

But he couldn’t. He had nothing left to give. Nothing left but anger and a pathetic, broken heart that he needed to heal. And the only way that could ever happen is if he finally came to terms with this mess. Frankie wasn’t going to get over his toxic masculinity shit and rewire his brain to unlearn nearly forty years' worth of homophobic bullshit.

He would never choose Sam in public.

He would never want a life together.

He would never want just him…

That meant only one thing: he had to buck the fuck up and face reality. What they shared the last few days had been nothing short of spectacular, but that was all he was ever going to get.

Frankie jumped the last barrier, cursing as his knee sagged slightly before straightening and shoving him roughly against the wall. Air escaped his lungs as his back slammed into the unyielding concrete wall.

“Shit.” Frankie’s hands descended on his chest, searching. “You okay?”

No, he wasn’t okay. He was far from okay.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Frankie?”

He stood back, releasing him, his throat working up and down. “I dunno.”

“You’ve ignored me all evening, and then, when someone else shows interest in me, you act like a fucking lunatic.” Anger flooded him, pushing his finger hard into Frankie’s solid chest. “I’m not yours. I’m not your anything. I don’t matter.”

“Don’t say that.” Frankie’s eyes narrowed, shifting. “Don’t fuckin’ say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Why’d you let him kiss you?”

Surprised by the question, Sam pinched the brim of his nose. “I dunno—maybe because I was tired of thinking about you. Tired of waiting for you to fuckin’ acknowledge me.”

“So, you did it to piss me off?”

“No!”

“You fuckin’ did!”

“I did it to feel anything other than your cock down my throat, Frankie! I did it to forget how much I want to do it all the fucking time.”

Frankie’s eyes burned with such intensity that Sam had to look away.

“I’m tired, Frank,” Sam murmured. “I’m tired of being hung up on a straight man who doesn’t want me. Not the way I want him, at least.”

Frankie’s eyes were nearly black in the dim, yellowish glow of the stairwell. “You seduced me, remember?”