Bonding & Jealousy
Marcus’s POV
I’m not avoiding Qiang in the traditional sense.
I’m not angry or frustrated with them at all.
But there was a devastating realization when they moved into the house, and that was simply that every step I’d taken over the last several weeks to establish distance didn’t do a fucking thing.
They stepped their foot over the threshold, and my entire system paraded about just like it had the first time I met them.
I thought I had thoroughly analyzed and moved on from this. Even though I can’t deny their face still popped into the forefront of my mind more often than it probably should have over the summer, I still felt like I had more control over this near-obsessive crush.
I think some part of me must have always known that I’d never get all the way over them, since they literally check every box of what I find attractive; from their pretty face to how they care about their loved ones to the sassy quip in their tone when they get annoyed.
However, all of that had still registered in my head as something physical.
Something that, ideally, could have been cured with time and a return to my normal hook-up lifestyle.
And it worked, for a short time. Not completely, but enough to get back to the person I was used to being. At least until they moved in, I don’t even know how to explain it, but the second they crossed the threshold, everything came rushing straight back with extra layers that threw me for a loop.
It was no longer just about wanting to see them smile because they’re pretty when they do; it was about the warm bubble of happiness that grew in my chest knowing they were happy.
Their eyes would show a new emotion, and I’d immediately want to know what it was and why it was there.
And it was about desperately wanting to be the one to make them smile, laugh, or be happy in general.
I don’t just want to understand them; I want to be a part of them. It took me a beat, or really ten, to realize that this crush on Qiang is so much deeper than just being about sex, and that has left me completely out to sea without an anchor.
Of course, the beautiful, brilliant mindfuckery of it all was that with that revelation, my ability to continue living my normal hook-up life went right out the window.
When everything was about sex, I was fine.
But knowing this is so far beyond that made my moral compass shift and shut that part of my life down.
Which really just sucks all around, because even though everything got that much more intense for me, it doesn’t mean anything has fucking changed for them.
And I did try, I mean, really fucking tried, to ignore it all and keep living the hook-up life I was used to.
But now, it just feels wrong, and if you think I’m frustrated, it’s nothing compared to how pissed my dick is.
It knows what it wants, and knows it can’t have it, and I’m not even offering it substitutes.
I just can’t anymore; it feels wrong, fucking around and then going home and knowing they are there.
Feels dirty, even though logically I know I’m not doing a damn thing I shouldn’t be.
We aren’t together. Qiang has made it perfectly clear that we aren’t going to be together.
So it’s not like Qiang has any idea that I’ve been celibate since they walked in the door.
As far as they know, I’m getting laid at every party I go to.
There’s no reason for them to know any different.
It isn’t really about them; it’s about my dick, my brain, and my heart all getting to the same mutual understanding that Qiang or no Qiang, I need to move on.
The less time I spend around here, the easier it is to not constantly dwell on all of this.
It helps that classes were brutal right out of the gate and aren’t slowing down at all.
End-of-semester projects were presented on the first day, with weekly breakdowns of what needed to be done and submitted to demonstrate a conscientious effort of not procrastinating.
And that’s in addition to the weekly assignments and essays.
High school could get overwhelming at times, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the amount of coursework that got slapped on my to-do list within the first week of university.
Not that I’m bitching, I’m almost grateful for it because it’s helping in the distractions department.
Football practice is grueling and constant.
My whole day, from early morning to early evening, revolves around different training sessions.
And then when my evening opens up, I either go to the library to work on coursework or go out to one of the frat parties.
I’m rarely ever at the house. Something that Tristan is picking up on and is unhappy about: he has the same commitments I do, but he’s not going to the same extent to let it fill every moment of every day, either. He’s making a point of being home and connecting with Qi as much as possible.
I’d like to feel a bit petty that if maybe I had someone to make that time with, I might be as committed to finding spare time as Tristan is, but I know that Tristan isn’t just making that time for Qi.
He’s making that time for me too, and I’m being pointedly absent, which I know is pissing him off, even if he is too nice to say anything out loud.
And it’s also not really a fair assessment because before Qiang, I never had that desire to have someone to make time for, other than my parents, Tristan, and Darryl.
However, Tristan sending his ‘sugary sweet as he can be’ boyfriend up to guilt-trip me is almost crueler than if Tristan just scolded me himself.
“Tristan didn’t send me,” Qi says as though he read my mind. “I just know he was hoping you’d go out to dinner with Qiang and us. Obviously not as grand as your sex parties, but…” he trails off awkwardly.
His tone is accusatory, with a touch of softness, as if he’s torn between scolding me and being nice. I wonder if he learned that tone from Tristan. I've only ever heard Tristan use it with his closest people, but it's definitely a Tristan thing.
“Not sex parties, just normal parties.” I roll my eyes at Qi with amusement.
“I mean, I figured that much, but Owen and Pax used to call just normal parties, sex parties, so…” he trails off with a shrug.
I full-on snort at that. “Owen and Pax are a special breed, though,” I point out.
Qi laughs as some of his awkward tension eases up. “They are definitely that.”
I can tell just by the way his eyes go a bit soft that he misses his friends.
Those two are definitely in a category all unto themselves, but they grow on you fast. Even I miss them a bit, if nothing else, because their ridiculous banter has a way of sucking all the bad things out of the room and replacing them with a laid-back goofiness you can’t ignore.
“He misses you,” Qi almost whispers, but it may as well have been a shout with how hard it hits my gut.
“He sees me all the time,” I tell him weakly, trying to displace the guilt, but knowing he's right and me being a shit isn't helping.
“It’s not the same. Football practice and classes aren’t–” he huffs and purses his lips for a moment. “He thinks of us all as a family, and there’s no family time. You guys were raised to understand the importance of that, and I think he’s feeling neglected.”
“He has you, doesn’t he?”
There’s a little trigger inside my head that mentally facepalms because this isn’t me at all.
I’m avoiding all of this and causing hurt to one of my most important people, and instead of standing up, I’m cowering behind petty excuses and weak-ass arguments.
I’m better than this, and I know I’m better than this.
“It’s not the same; I’m his boyfriend, not his brother. I’m pretty sure those parties offer enough distractions that you won’t be missed as much there as you are here,” he points out with a little bit of frustration hiding behind his attempts to keep his delivery kind.
I’m hurting Tristan, and it’s pissing Qi off, and Qi is trying hard to salvage the situation without making it worse, and I’m being a dick about it.
It doesn’t help my resolve at all that Qi’s giving me these ridiculous puppy dog eyes.
It’s amazing how Qi and Qiang have the same eyes, yet they aren’t remotely similar.
Qi is full of sweetness, while Qiang is full of fire.
Qi makes me want to pat him on the head and go ‘aw’, while Qiang makes it hard not to melt to my knees and worship them.
Sweet and spice, the Jiang siblings are definitely not made for the weak-hearted. It’s no wonder they have Tristan and me eating out of their hands.
“We’re leaving in an hour for that Italian place up the road. If you decide to come, don’t tell Tristan I said anything. He really didn’t send me up here to guilt you into coming,” he says before turning towards the door.
My throat clenches almost painfully because it would have been one thing to brush it off like Tristan was teasing and sending Qi up to guilt-trip me.
But if Qi went behind his back to do it, then that means Tristan’s feelings aren’t just a little bit hurt.
I don’t like that at all, and I don’t like that I’m the cause.
One of the biggest reasons Qiang and I both agreed this was off the table was to avoid alienating our most important people. I seem to keep losing the plot.
“Your secret is safe with me, Qi. I’ll be down in an hour,” I tell him, and his responding smile is the most ridiculously adorable thing I’ve ever seen in my life. With smiles like that, it’s no wonder he brought my ice-prince championship-winning quarterback bro to his knees.