Tuesday 1/29/08
Who: Wesley and Roger What: Confession Time When: Tuesday Night Where: Wesley's Apartment Rating: PG 13
Sneakers pounding hard on the pavement, Roger made a mad dash to Wesley's apartment. Why had he snapped at him on the phone? Wes hadn't done anything wrong. The demon was still pretty shaken by the whole 'waking up jerking off Blake' thing, and suddenly remembering Dante, and his head was killing him. He just needed to get to Wes, see that he was alright, and then... he had to tell him. Wesley deserved to know. This was going to be so hard, though. Wesley trusted him, he knew that Roger wouldn't cheat on him. But he had, several times. And he hated himself for it.
Finally on Wes' front step, Roger took a moment to catch his breath before knocking. His heart was hammering in hit throat, his stomach heavy as lead. He stood on the front step waiting for the door to open, almost wishing that it never would so he'd never have to say those awful words and watch Wesley's heart break right in front of him. But the door opened, and there was Wes, and he looked wasted. That was enough to shock Roger out of his self-pity stupor. "Oh my God, Wesley... are you... what happened to you?"
---
Wes had done exactly what he'd said he'd do on the phone; he'd promptly filled the sink with water and dunked his hole head in it, trying to wake himself up. He had no idea when he'd last smoked the joint but the taste was still in his mouth and the smell was on his skin. When he brought his head out of the water he spluttered, hoping that when he opened his eyes the world wouldn't be as fuzzy. It had done a little good. Nowhere near enough. Running a hand down his face he sighed; he needed to get his shit together and fast. There was no point Roger being here otherwise.
The door was knocked and Wesley stumbled backwards in surprise. It was so unnaturally quiet in here. Godric wasn't here, Blake wasn't here... maybe if they had been they wouldn't have been effected with whatever had happened to the school. "Coming," he called, scrambling to the door, and he opened it with shaking hands. The sight of Roger was enough to make his uneasy, sickly feelings fade away. It was like a sight for sore eyes.
"Aw, shit, Roger," he said, immediately blubbering and throwing his arms around the taller man's neck. "I'm so glad you're alright, dude, you had me so worried - well when I remembered you... shit... man... I'm sorry.."
---
Roger caught the sobbing Wes, holding him tightly. Guilt welled up in his throat, making him choke on it. He coughed a little, breathing deep the scnent of Wesley. He smelled like weed. So, that was it? This was what Wes had been so apologetic about? He was high? "Wes," he murmured, rubbing his back. "It's okay. Really, it's... it's alright." He knew that it wouldn't help, that the healer was still going to feel totally guilty, that he would tell Roger he was sorry until his breath left his lungs. But he'd probably stop when Roger made his own confession.
Pulling back, Roger took Wes by the shoulders, looking in his bloodshot eyes. "Let's just go inside, ok? We'll sit, and we'll talk about this, and... and it'll be okay." He tried to look reassuring, tried to seem like he felt stronger than he did. But he was terrified this was their last night.
---
Wes nodded, taking Roger's lead. Roger had his head screwed on straight, see, and he wasn't stoned. All of which were a plus for being in the aftermath of a disaster. He shouldn't really have been so strung out but this worry over going back to his old ways was haunting him. Give him another week and he'd have been right back lost in heroine and worse, especially as he'd believed he could win Heather back some how.
He closed the door behind them, running a hand through his hair as he toddled over to the sofa. He didn't want to sit but no doubt Roger would expect it. Slumping down onto the soft cushions Wes tried not to feel sick but it wasn't that easy. He'd been years without a spliff, now he'd had more in ten days than he had in six years. Coughing slightly he looked at Roger; even slightly drugged there was no mistaking that loving look. "I'm sorry."
---
Taking Wes to sit on the couch, Roger was tense, sitting at the edge of the cushion. He looked over the man's face, in his eyes, seeing that he wasn't totally there. Maybe this conversation should wait until he was sober, until he would clearly understand what Roger told him. But then again, maybe telling him now would soften the blow. He didn't know what he should do. Waiting to tell Wes would feel like he was lying, and letting the healer feel so guilty when Roger had a much bigger secret would just be cruel.
The look in the healer's eyes was breaking his heart. "Wesley," he said, keeping his voice even. "Please don't be sorry. You didn't... you were... it's okay. We'll figure this out, ok?" He moved closer to him, taking one of Wes' hands in his own. His long, cool fingers curled easily over Wesley's thick, masculine hand. "Tell me what happened. We'll talk about it. We need to talk." Boy did they need to talk.
---
Coughing slightly and trying to rub the soreness from his eyes, Wesley attempted to pull himself together. This was no time to get sucked back into the effects of weed. He nodded, wishing he smelt of something other than the damn spliff. He should have showered - changed at least. Roger shouldn't have to suffer his boyfriend stinking.
Nodding slowly, Wesley took a breath of fresh, clean air before he tried to get his thoughts into a cohesive pattern of words. "I was in the infirmary when the spell hit. That's what I remember. I thought I was there to steal drugs, painkillers. I started on those... I figured it was just after my divorce, and my accident, and I wondered where the fuck I was. I didn't even remember you. I had no idea that I was in Boston. I started back on weed, and I can't remember much after that...." He groaned, covering his face. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I think I kissed two people... I was stoned at the time. Sorry. Shit, sorry..."
---
Roger didn't mind that Wesley smelled like weed. It took away from the fact that Roger reeked like sweat and sex. He wished he'd had time to shower before coming over, but he had needed to run first, get his head a little clearer before he could talk to his boyfriend. But his boyfriend called him first.
Roger listened carefully. It wasn't Wesley's fault that he was high, that he'd gone back to his old ways. Whatever had happened to the school had messed with Wes' memory. Roger squeezed his hand reassuringly, stroking the skin with his thumb. "Wes," he said calmly, "it's... it's alright. I'm nt mad. You didn't remember anything, it's not your fault. You don't have to apologize for anything."
Straightening up a little, Roger cleared his throat. "So, um... so I have to tell you somthing. Something really important. But first, I have to know you're going to be okay to hear it. I need you to hear it, because it's... it's big." He tried to hold eye contact, but his gaze kept shifting downward at their hands, at his sin on Wesley's, thinking how after tonight he might never get to touch him again.
---
Apparently he wasn't the only one with a confession. It was very sobering, and as he stared at Roger with a worried expression he steeled himself inside. Did he want to leave him? He wouldn't blame him but Wesley wasn't going down without a fight. Trying to get his damn eyes to focus, Wes closed them tight then re-opened them.
"Okay..." he said, shifting so he was turned fully to the gorgeous demon. He could tell he was worried but there was no indication as to why. Wes didn't even notice he was sweaty. "I can take it I swear... I'm not that doped up any more I can listen, I can. I can take it in so just... say what you gotta say..."
And please don't let it be "I don't love you any more" ....
---
Just say it. Right. Maybe that was the best way to go about it. "Okay," he said, keeping a tight hold to Wesley's hand. "Here goes." The words were stuck in his chest, not wanting to come out and ruin everything. But he had to say it. Taking a deep breath, he relased it slowly, shakily. "When this spell hit the school, I kind of... it changed me. And I wasn't acting like myself at all. I was drinking a lot, and I went to a strip club, and I was talking like this horrible person that wasn't even me, wasn't even Dante. He was just this horrible, awful prick that said terrible things about... about everything. About people, and you, and..."
He was getting off track. Swallowing, Roger turned more to face Wesley, to look him in the eye. "Wes," he said, voice low, "you know I love you. But... some things happened this week. Bad things." He blinked a few times, fighting back tears. "The truth is, Wes, that... I cheated on you." Those for horrible words, sitting out there like a living they. They consumed the space between them. "There were a few people, and with one person it was a lot of times, and we just... I woke up with him. About an hour ago. When this whole spell thing ended, we were... he and I were..." Roger let his voice trail off into silence.
---
If he hadn't been sober enough before Roger's words were like a slap in the face, waking him up with a sharp smack. He didn't breathe. He couldn't. His beloved Roger, the light of his life, the most wonderful person he'd ever met... had slept with someone else. Multiple people. Multiple times. He'd been intimate with them. And even more gut-wrenchingly horrible for Wesley to realise, he'd been with another man. Wesley now had competition. He was no longer Roger's one and only.
"Shit," he said softly, the tears not really coming at first. He finally let out the breath he'd been holding. His chest hurt. Really fucking hurt. His mouth went dry like he hadn't had a drink for several days, maybe he hadn't. As Roger's words registered in his slow mind he tried to form words but none came. Roger had been with someone else, Roger had been with someone else, Roger cheated on you.... it all repeated like some foghorn and it was deafening.
Finally Wes licked his lips. "Hoah. I've never..." This was an odd feeling. He'd always been the one to cheat cause usually his partner hadn't had the chance or simply loved him more than he'd realised. Regaining the ability to process though, Wesley continued. "I've never been cheated on before... this must be how you felt when I slept with Dante huh?" he asked, seemingly stunned but those tears were creeping into his eyes.
---
Of all the reactions that Wesley could have had, this one was probably the worst. Roger waited for what seemed like forever for the man to say something, have some kind of reaction other than stunned silence. He waited though, not saying anything, letting the information sink in. He didn't imagine there was a worse feeling in the entire world. At least, he didn't think so until Wesley brought up Dante. It felt like a knife in his heart, twisting and twirling deep. Roger wanted to burst into tears, but for some reason they wouldn't come. He was too hurt even to cry.
"No, this... this is nothing like when you slept with Dante." Wesley deserved the whole truth, even if it hurt him, and Roger was going to tell it. "At least you cared about Dante. What I did was just lust, it was... I did it just for fun." Finally letting go of Wes' hand, Roger closed his eyes a moment, collecting himself. He had to do this. "There was a girl, Arcelia, and... and there was a motel room with a stripper, and... Blake." He swallowed again, opening his eyes to look at Wes, to look at the devastation he was causing. He derserved this. Wesley had forgotten him, magic had taken his memory away. Roger had remembered him and just didn't care, was totally cruel just for the sake of it. "I was with Blake when the spell ended. We were... were going to... Wesley I am so sorry. I'm never going to be sorry enough about this. I don't know what else to say, I know it's not enough..." His blue eyes were wide, watching Wesley expectantly.
---
Wes' blood was running cold. This was like nothing he'd ever felt before. Disappointment, devastation, a general weight in his chest. Arcelia. A stripper. But the final person was almost like Roger had hit him over the head with a baseball bat. He had slept with Blake. One of Wes' friends, what he had thought was their friend. And it had only been for fun. For a moment Wesley thought how bad Ric would take it - then his own, real reaction finally took shape.
He was crying before he realised, wiping his eyes furiously. For a few moments he just sobbed, trying not to lose it completely and remain calm. "Well.." he sniffled, managing to talk through these tears like a normal human being, "I mean you weren't yourself right?" Please say no, please say no... "You were just after sex. I mean it wasn't... it was just lust like you said and didn't mean anything. You just wanted to bone people, y'know, bone Blake... a lot... multiple... times...." Though he was in pain he still wiped his eyes with his shaking hands. "You didn't do it for any other reason... I mean you probably forgot all about me..."
---
It was impossible to watch Wes cry, to see him so broken and shattered with tears running down his face. Roger wanted to hold him, console him, but he knew he couldn't. He was the reason for Wesley's pain. "I wasn't myself," he admitted, though his eyes were cast downward. "I don't know who I was. Like every impulse I had, I just went with it. I was thinking things I had never done before, doing things I would never dream of doing."
This was the worst part. "But... I didn't forget anything." The words were practically whispered, he loathed saying them so much. "I remembered everything, remembered who I was, what I had done. I-I forgot about Dante but I remembered things he did, people he knew, and I thought I had done them. And you... I..." He wrung his hands in his lap, staring down at them shamefully. "I remembered you. And I said terrible things about you. Awful things. But I wasn't thinking right, I was thinking like this new person that I'm not, but I didn't forget about you. And when I was with those people... with Blake... it was... I knew what I was doing."
Bending forward slightly, curling into himself, Roger wished he could just be swallowed up in the ground never to be seen again. He was the scum of the Earth, the worst person alive. "I'm sorry," he whispered, knowing it was useless.
---
It didn't matter that Roger remembered him. What he was more concerned about the way he had been behaving despite remembering everyone. That wasn't good. That wasn't nice at all. Though Wesley could forgive him for sleeping with Blake and those others eventually he was more concerned with one particular thing.
"So you mean..." he sniffled, trying to speak through his congested state, "that for ten days - you didn't love me?" His voice was weak and pathetic, like a kid who had just been scorned for something bad. He looked lost as his eyes searched Roger's face; it was such a kind face. It was hard for anyone to believe he'd be so destructive and uncaring about the people close to him. "You even hated me?"
---
Wesley had a knack for digging through all the surface hurt and yanking out the inner most source of pain. It felt like getting a sore tooth pulled, and what was left behind was a bleeding, raw hole. The bleeding hole was Roger's chest where his heart used to be. "Wes, I... it wasn't me," he said pitifully. "I was acting the complete opposite of how I really am." But he couldn't lie to the man.
"Yes," he mumbled, turning his head to look up at Wesley. "Yes. For ten days, I... I think I loved you but I didn't... care." He remembered saying to Blake that maybe he loved Wes, but as a human he was too weak for him. That he wasn't good enough for him. "And I said awful things about you, things that aren't true and I don't really think at all, Wes, you have to believe that. I never would have done this if I wasn't being messed up, I promise, I'd never cheat on you. Please forgive me, Wesley... just..." He grabbed the healer's hands, holding them tight, pleading. "I'm so sorry, you have to believe me, Wes, please... please..."
---
For several moments Wesley just sat, staring at some point between him and Roger. He shook his head, still in shock. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The love of his life had discarded him, gone to a demon. Maybe that's what he really wanted, someone stronger than a human, someone with a longer life span. "That's just... messed up..." he said softly, continuing to shake his head.
When the blonde took his hands though Wesley looked up at him, searched those eyes. He loved those eyes. There was no way he couldn't. He just loved him. With a deep sigh with bordered on a deep breath to steady himself, Wesley squeezed his fingers back. "I believe you," he said softly. He didn't seem as stoned any more but he was still not himself. "And I forgive you, Roger. Because I know it wasn't you. I know you love me, okay? I know you love me." Fresh tears began to fall but he ignored them. "And I love you. But I'm not gonna deny I'm hurt because damnit you... you didn't.... you were with Blake for fuck's sake.."
---
It was messed up. And Roger felt like the world's biggest dickhead right now. Even though it had been magic, even though he felt compelled to do those awful things, he could have stopped himself. He could have said no. And he was never going to forgive himself for making Wesley cry, for hurting him. Roger nodded in agreement, willing to agree to anything, because everything Wes said was right and Roger was so, so wrong.
He couldn't believe Wesley believed him, that he was forgiving him. Roger wasn't going to forgive himself so easily, but he was so glad that Wes hadn't just tossed him out, told him to get lost and never come back. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. Hearing Wes say those three words, 'I love you'... Roger felt his heart might burst with relief. It was short lived, though. "I know I hurt you," he said softly, carefully. "And I know I probably picked the worst person in the entire world." Well, almost. Godric probably would have been the worst, but he didn't even want to think about that. "I'm so sorry. I'm not interested in Blake, at all. I don't want him. I want you." He looked into Wes' teary eyes, cautiously reached up to touch his face. "I'm always going to want just you."
---
The thing with Wesley was that he knew this must be hard for Roger. His first fuck up in a relationship and it was major. He must feel so bad - at least Wes supposed he did, believed he did, hoped that he loved him enough to feel something sorrowful at least. But of course he did - just one look at the demon told Wesley everything he needed to know. The words certainly helped though, and as Roger touched the healer's face he leant his cheek into the palm of his hand.
After a moment he looked at him, studying his face. Then without a second thought he leant forward and kissed him.
---
This was so much more than Roger hoped for. He returned the kiss desperately, hoping he didn't taste like Blake, hoping that this meant he and Wes were going to be alright. His free hand joined the other in cupping the healer's face, drawing him close. He had missed this. Even though throughout the week he hadn't known he was missing this, he knew now. And he missed this, wanted just this.
"Wes," he whispered, moving closer to him, tasting his mouth hungrily. "I love you. I'm so sorry." He didn't want this moment to end, the wave of relief and happiness and desire so great he wanted to stay in it forever.
---
Aw hell. Wesley could get lost in this. Kissing involved no problems, no talkng, just feeling, and the way Roger was making him feel was almost enough to make up for everything. Almost. But it was enough to make Wesley forget how hurt he'd been and that was a welcome relief. It was in danger of becoming a little heated, Wesley's demanding tongue slipping into Roger's mouth but he pulled away to speak to him.
"Don't," he said softly, "don't apologise any more not now. Just... be you. Okay? Be you.."
---
Roger wanted Wesley to keep going, to make him forget this awful night, this awful week. When the healer's tongue slipped into his mouth Roger practically melted, his fingers curling gently into the man's skin, a soft whimper escaping his lips. Their tongues dancing, lips locked in a perfect, savory kiss, Roger leaned against Wesley, wanting to be touching every inch of him. When Wes broke the kiss, it was almost like torture.
He felt he should apologize forever, just beg Wes for forgiveness over and over and never stop. But he wasn't going to agrue, instead nodding before pressing their mouths back together, insatiable for the man's taste. His hand swept over Wesley's cheek, curving around the back of his neck, his other hand resting on his waist. He didn't want to go too far, push Wes too much too soon, but he wished he could take him to the bedroom, erase the infidelities, reclaim his lover.
---
The kisses were dizzying. Roger's touch was sending him crazy. Like the demon, Wesley hadn't realised how much he'd missed him until he'd been with him again like this, now. Over a week without this embrace, those lips. Sure things may be awkward in future - when Wesley was sobered and when things had been calm enough for both of them to think then perhaps it would be different. But right now...
"You need to shower," he told him. The scent of another was only just registering in Wes' mind. He recognised Roger's smell, the afterglow of sex, but there was something else there. Wesley would know, he'd experienced it enough in his heyday. "Strip off. Go shower. Meet me in my bedroom.."
---
As much as he wanted to keep kissing Wesley, never stop, Roger understood that Wesley needed him to scrub the smell of Blake off him. He nodded silently, standing up and brushing his fingers over Wesley's cheek before heading toward the bathroom, peeling off his shirt along the way. He closed the door behind him softly, standing there for a moment with his hand on the knob. This night had gone so much better than he'd expected, was going so much better than he'd thought it would. And he really hoped that Godric wouldn't come back yet, and hoped more that Blake would not accompany him.
Turning the shower on hot, Roger lathered the soap over his skin, washing every inch of himself thoroughly, as though somehow that would wash away his indiscretions. He shampooed his hair twice, washed his face with whoever's peach scrub was in there, rinsed his mouth five or six times with the water. Finally, he turned off the water and stepped out onto the bathmat, steam billowing out behind him. He wiped himself down with a towel, mussed his hair to flick the water off, wrapped the towel around his waist and wiped clean a streak in the mirror. He was so angry with the face staring back at him, so furious with those eyes, he might as well have been staring Dante in the face. With a short sigh he turned away, heading out into the hallway and down to Wesley's room.
---
Whilst the demon got into the shower Wesley took a moment sitting on the sofa. The silence was consuming. Even with the faint sounds of running water in the background Wesley zoned out. That was the only way he could get himself together, get his mind working. Roger had slept with other people before Wesley. It was no big deal. There was nothing to feel strange about, icky about because now Roger was well he knew he wanted him. Wesley buried the ill feelings he had, the image of Roger and Blake together. It was five minutes before he stood, walked to his room and began to undress.
Thankfully the weed was beginning to wear off. Though his nose was stuffed up because of his crying he took a few deep breaths. Roger was taking ages. Probably scrubbing himself to the bone. He peeled the covers off his bed, climbing in naked. The sheets were cool and familiar; there was nothing like his own bed and nothing like having Roger in it with him. When he heard the shower turn off he sat up waiting. As soon as the demon was in the doorway Wesley reached out a hand.
"Come be with me," he said, for the moment only planning to hold him in his arms and kiss him.
---
The apartment was so quiet, eerily so, Roger wondered a moment if maybe Wesley had gone out, decided to leave after all. He wouldn't blame him. But his bedroom light was on, so Roger enetered it hesitantly, shutting the door behind him. He was wearing a towel but he felt so completely naked, exposed in Wesley's gaze. Standing beside the bed, he slipped the towel off, lettting it drop to the floor. He climbed into the bed beside Wes, delighting in how cool his skin felt against Roger's. Slipping himself into the healer's arms, Roger rested his head on Wesley's shoulder, wrapping his long arms arounf the man's waist and holding him close.
"Am I staying the night?" he asked, a tint of hope in his voice. He would not be hurt if Wesley said no, but he really, really hoped he could. He wanted to stay in his arms, in his bed, assure himself he was still in Wesley's heart.
---
"You're not going anywhere," was Wesley's answer, settling in to this hold and being very contented to both be in Roger's arms and be holding him. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of Roger by his side. This was right, how it was supposed to be. How it would be now. If he could he'd demand Roger stay here with him for the remainder of eternity but that wasn't really possible.
"We're gonna be okay," he assured him softly, stroking a hand through Roger's hair and letting his eyes linger on that face. "You're my demon."
--
Oh he could just cry. Roger held Wes tightly, comforted by the smell of him, even if it was masked in marijuana. "Thank you," he whispered, looking up at Wes, his hand stroking up and down the man's back. He couldn't believe he'd been forgiven, was so grateful that he had been, that he was here now and they would be alright. Tomorrow would be hard, because tomorrow Wesley would be totally sober and the pain would come back tenfold. But tonight, they were just going to lay here and be together, be with one another.