Deeper Layers
Marcus’s POV
I know it took Qiang swallowing a whole lot of pride to ask me to bring them to their counseling session, and I probably shouldn’t test them as much as I do.
The thing is, when I tease them, it prickles them just enough to get them to focus more on the teasing and less on the situation.
It pulls them out of their head. It’s one of the many idiosyncrasies I’ve picked up about Qiang in the time I’ve known them.
The last several weeks have been exceedingly difficult in one aspect, but also wonderful in another.
My sex life is dead, and for a typical eighteen-year-old that’s used to regular, if not maybe more than regular, sexual activity, my dick is quite unhappy with the current situation.
However, it’s also the same dick that doesn’t want to work unless Qiang is in the vicinity, so really, it’s doing the damage to itself.
Not completely, I guess, because a lot of this is emotional, too.
Maybe if I’d ever actually entertained the idea of giving up on any semblance of a future between Qiang and me, things would be different.
But I’m still rather resolute on the idea, so celibate is how I’m staying.
It’s not like I’m the first man on the planet to go through a dry spell for a couple of months, even if it is self-inflicted and I can get rather built up and grumbly sometimes, but it is what it is.
All of that doesn’t mean things between us haven’t progressed, though.
I’ve made a point to be there for them. As a result, our friendship has grown exponentially.
Throughout everything that has happened, Qiang has gotten clingy.
Not in a bad way at all, but they are definitely going through an emotional upheaval, and as a result, they seek to be around someone they trust almost all the time.
At school, it’s usually Qi or Natasha. At home, it’s usually Qi if they can pry him away from Tristan, or me if they can’t.
And if we go out or to a party, then they usually cling to me because, if Tristan and Qi are ridiculous to separate at home, they are absolutely impossible to separate in public.
Part of the clinginess is coming with larger doses of closeness, too.
Since I’ve promised to be only their friend, they’ve trusted that and relied on it.
Hugs and even cuddling on the couch during movies have become more frequent, along with the excuse to carry them upstairs and tuck them in regularly because they often fall asleep.
Not surprisingly, because between classes, their channel, therapy, and dealing with all the heavy emotions, they’re tired.
While part of me absolutely loves the closeness and the trust, there’s also the part of me that finds it difficult not to cross into deeper territory.
Everything I want is wrapped up in them.
Being close enough to touch, but not actually having, wreaks havoc on my heart, and rather crassly, my dick, too.
It knows what it wants, but me knowing how much they need my friendship above all else for the time being makes everything easier to take, regardless of how much my dick weeps.
At school, I’m usually around my teammates or Imani.
Since that doomed, horrible frat party several weeks ago, she gave up on the idea of us being more than friends and became one of my most supportive sounding boards.
Not that I ever say anything deeply personal about Qiang’s journey, because that belongs to Qiang, not me, but I talk a lot about how I’m handling everything.
But, of course, the closeness has sparked rumors about my dating life.
I can’t say I’m surprised. There has always been speculation about who I’m with and who I’m not.
Never really understood how the rumors ever held up in high school, with how much I slept around.
It’s easier to understand the rumors that are going around now, though.
Outside of my teammates and, of course, Qi, I’m only around two people. At school, it’s always Imani. Outside of school, it’s always Qiang. So it’s not surprising that rumors of my being with both are flying everywhere.
Not that I really spare the time or effort to care much about them.
I definitely don’t mind people thinking Qiang is claimed by me.
Possessive, yes. Do I give an ounce of a fuck?
No. They’re mine; people understanding that simply helps me out.
It would help me out even more if Qiang would hurry up and get on board, but good things come to those who wait.
However, the rumors did cause a bit of a hang-up with one of my teammates. Not a huge one, but I did get chewed out pretty hard by Derrick–one of our starting wide receivers–for what he assumed was me leading both Imani and Qiang on.
It didn’t take very long into the ass-chewing to realize his hang-up is because he has a thing for Imani. Well, that and leading them both on would have been a really shitty thing to do if his assumption was correct.
Once I explained that Imani was just my friend, he cooled his jets. After I told him he should probably try to talk to her instead of crushing on her from afar, he patted me on the shoulder and ran out of the locker room as if nothing had happened.
Since then, he’s kind of bulldozed his way into our space a time or two when we’re hanging out, just to talk to her. I don’t really mind it that much because Imani seems pretty into him too, and last I heard, they’re planning to go together to Zeta Tau Xi’s Trick or Treat event on Friday.
I’m hoping things work out for them because they’re both pretty awesome people. Not that that means they’ll automatically be good for each other, but it’d be nice if they are.
The Zeta Tau Xi’s Trick or Treat event has a pretty big buzz going around campus. There was even one afternoon when Qi, Tristan, Qiang, and I joined the frat house to help decorate their murals.
If it wasn’t obvious something was brewing between Gio and Holt before, then it sure as fuck is now.
I’ve always noticed Holt’s eyes on Gio, and thought I’d seen a bit of reciprocation from Gio from time to time, but the way their eyes lingered on each other that day told the rest of the story.
If they aren’t already together and keeping it on the down-low, then it’s only a matter of time. Like minutes, not days.
The event is one that Tristan, Qi, Qiang, and I are really excited to attend.
I know Tristan and Qi are planning on dressing up as some famous couple, but Qiang is staying rather tight-lipped about their costume.
Not gonna lie, with their makeup skills and amazing sense of style, I cannot wait to see what they do.
But in the meantime, I’m sitting in the lobby for Qiang’s therapy, which is the farthest thing from any other doctor-esque lobby I’ve ever been in.
The office building where Qiang has therapy is absolutely gorgeous. There’s so much character and activity in the craftsmanship and decor that I can see how it would serve as a distraction, pulling clients out of their heads and letting them breathe a little easier.
Therapy is already hard enough; making the waiting rooms as clinical and hospital-like as I’m used to seeing them, especially knowing how much most people dislike hospitals, never made much sense to me.
The building and offices here, though beautiful, were enough on their own.
Their therapist didn’t have to compete with the aesthetic with his ‘way sexier than they have any business being’ blue eyes.
And no, he’s not really my type, but a spade is a spade, and Qiang holing up in that room for an hour a week and baring their soul to those bedroom eyes isn’t exactly therapeutic knowledge for me.
As much as I want to grumble, though, the guy is obviously good at his job because Qiang gets healthier each week.
They open up more, say less disparaging things about themself, seek comfort, and are less bristly.
So, as heavy as the instinct is for me to get on my phone and search for a new therapist who is significantly older and less bedroom-eyelike, I keep the urge to myself.
While Qiang may be mine, I don’t get to act like it until they actually give in and agree to that.
Qiang’s session with their ‘way hotter than he has any business being’ therapist is now over, and we’re on our way back to the house.
Qiang isn’t really chatty in the car in general.
They’ve always preferred that car time is music time.
Sometimes, they just quietly bounce along to it, and other times they scream the lyrics at the top of their lungs.
If ever there was a moment when Qiang proved to be lacking in any area, it’s that they can’t carry a tune to save their lives.
Seriously, it’s absolutely awful, which speaks volumes about me, because it’s still one of my favorite sounds despite recognizing that.
But right now, they’re not trying to murder the sound barrier or even humming along humbly to the tune; they are kind of just sitting there, lost in thought. They’re wringing their fingers around a loose string on the hem of their shirt that they’ve been picking at since before we left the house.
Qi’s always been the one to take them to their sessions, so I’m not sure if this is normal post-session behavior or if there’s something wrong.
I don’t want to pry into their sessions, not because I’m not curious, but because I have a healthy respect for therapy and for the fact that people need professionals, since we can’t always get by with just telling their closest people everything.
I also don’t want to assume they’re just spiraling after the session, so I aim for middle ground and go with a more general question about how they’re feeling, without probing for specifics.
“Everything all right?”
Qiang doesn’t move for a moment, and I’m not sure if they’re so far in their head that they don't hear me, until they release a heavy sigh and shake their head. “Not really, no.”
“Wanna talk?”
Their brow furrows, and they start worrying at their bottom lip for a moment before they ask, “Can you keep it between us?” while staring out the window.
“Everything you say to me stays between us, unless you specify otherwise,” I remind them.
It’s quiet for another moment, and it makes me think whatever this is, it’s gonna be heavy because they are struggling so hard to get it out. I’m curious, but I don’t want to push if they don’t want to talk. Before I can open my mouth to iterate that, though, they start talking.
“Grant thinks it’s time for me to tell Qi about something I’ve kept from him since all the bad shit went down with Kingston.”
“And you don’t want to,” I sum up plainly.
“It’s layered. There’s the part where it’s over and done with now, or at least the part that pertains to Qi. But there’s a deeper layer to it that once he knows, he can never unknow, and I don’t really think it’s fair to dump that on him when knowing about it won’t change anything.”
It’s kind of hard to really focus on Qiang while I’m driving, but I can see enough to know they aren't just a bit uncomfortable anymore. They’ve elevated into something deeper.
There’s an almost desperate uptick in their hand fidgeting, from the quiet nervousness and slight disquiet of earlier, along with a rigidity in their spine and shallower breathing.
It's obvious that whatever this is, it's not a simple white lie. Whether Qi needs to know what this is or not, it's clear why Grant is pushing Qiang to tell him. It's heavy, and it’s weighing them down–hard.
This needs to be a deeper discussion than just idly chatting in the car.
Not sure if they want to have it with me, but if they don’t and they keep fixating on it, I don't want them to spiral.
Qiang's spirals have gotten better, but it doesn't mean they don't still have them sometimes, and that they aren’t still devastating every time it happens.
I know that may also be partly my personal hang-up, because I really fucking hate it when they're so clearly hurting like that. But they're facing it, and they're learning to deal with it, and that's what I have to keep reminding myself of.
Whether they talk to me or not, if they really start spiraling on it, then they probably shouldn’t be alone right now. I flip on my blinker for the left turn to our house and tell my phone to call Coach Stephens.
“What are you doing?” Qiang asks while the phone rings.
I just shake my head when the call clicks, signaling that Coach has answered.
“Marcus?” Coach answers in a firm, paternal voice.
“Hey Coach, I just wanted to let you know I’m gonna miss practice this evening. I’ve got a family emergency that just came up.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just something that needs to be dealt with immediately.”
Qiang is mouthing and shaking their head at me, but I’m already making the excuses, and honestly, this is why I just called instead of asking Qiang if I should. They’d have said they were fine, regardless of what they needed.
“Is Tristan with you?” Coach asks.
“No. Tristan doesn’t know about it yet. I’ll fill him in later at home.”
“Okay. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“Will do, Coach. Thank you,” I finish before closing out the call. The line is barely dropped when Qiang starts hissing at me.
“You didn’t need to do that. I didn’t even say I was gonna tell you what happened,” they huff.
“Doesn’t really matter if you tell me or not. I don’t want to leave you alone right now,” I tell them honestly.
“Oh my god, Marcus! Why are you like this?” they whine exasperatingly as they flop back against their seat.
“I’ve told you several times, you are one of my most important people. You matter to me, and I don’t want to leave you alone, whether you tell me what’s going on or not. I’m staying with you until Qi gets home,” I tell them firmly.
Qiang closes their eyes in annoyance, but I can see the flutter of relief in their body language as well.
They didn’t want to be alone any more than I wanted to leave them alone.
However, there’s still that layer where they sincerely believe they aren’t worth anyone’s extra effort, which makes it impossible for them to just graciously accept the company.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” they mumble, and I have to bite back the snicker because their comment is so deeply in line with my inner musings.
“I mean, I can be…” I tease lightly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” they huff out at the suggestive quip.
I turn and give them a wide-eyed grin at their choice of words. It takes them a moment for their eyes to widen, and I know what they said finally clicks.
“Oh my god, if it weren’t for the gutter, your brain would be homeless,” they huff exasperatingly at me.
I tilt my head back and laugh at that while we pull into the driveway.