Part 16
Wondering who could be visiting the studio at such an ungodly hour, I raised my head to be greeted with the sight of Wil standing over Paul and I, looking down on us with a combination of hurt and condemnation. We sprung apart with the embarrassment of being discovered in such an intimate moment, especially by Wil.
"Oh, no, please, don�t stop on my account," he said sarcastically, crossing his leather-clad arms and running his tongue along the length of his top row of teeth, staring directly at me. When he turned his gaze to Paul, however, his expression softened.
"Hi, Paul."
"How did you know I was here?" Paul asked, turning his back to Wil to zip his jeans.
"I asked around," Wil replied, sitting on the arm of the couch. I shuffled away quickly, tidying myself up. "Your friends are a bunch of tight-arses, Paul. They wouldn�t even talk to me. When they finally opened their mouths, they let fly with insults that could make Marilyn Manson cringe."
"I wonder why," Paul mumbled, facing Wil again. "What do you want?"
Wil suddenly became more soft-spoken, something I didn�t expect to see, moving his eyes from me to Paul then the floor. "Maybe I shouldn�t..."
"No, you came here to say something, Wil. Now just say it." Paul slipped his hands into his pockets and raised his eyebrows expectantly. I studied Wil curiously � this was a welcome change, if a novel one. It was odd seeing him struggling for the correct words to say when he�d had no trouble doing so in front of Paul�s peers at the Metro. What were his intentions? What he had to say was obviously important, as he would not have travelled to the studio at 11pm if it weren�t. I watched and waited.
"Just hear me out. Okay? This isn�t easy for me to say. I mean, I�m not used to being so open about my feelings." Wil took a slow step forward. "I�m sorry about everything. I was really messed up. I shouldn�t have taken everything out on you. Hitting you like that in front of your band, and throwing that vase...I know you must see me as an absolute arsehole right now. I would, too, if I was in your shoes and you were in mine. I lost control. I know that just saying sorry doesn�t make it all better, but I�m hoping that you can try to forgive me. You know I�d never really want to hurt you, Paul."
"No, I don�t know that." Paul shook his head. "You hurt and humiliated me, Wil, how the fuck am I supposed to feel about you? And how can you expect me to turn around and forgive you so quickly?"
"I�m not expecting much from you. Like I said, I know I can�t make everything alright just like that." He clicked his fingers. "All I�m asking for is a second chance."
"I don�t give second chances. Now let me show you the door."
Before Paul could move, I interrupted with, "Paul, at least let him say what he came to say. He wouldn�t come here at this hour for nothing."
"Please..." Wil hesitantly reached out and placed his hand on Paul�s shoulder. For the first time, I saw his coldness and hardness fading. "I love you. I haven�t been able to stop thinking about you since the night of your gig. You really have no idea how sorry I am that I ever hurt you. You didn�t deserve to be treated like that. I came here to tell you that I�m willing to do whatever it takes to win your trust back. I want you to come back to me; it�s been hell without you."
Both Paul and I were surprised by Wil�s apology and declaration of love, but the mutual, unspoken feeling between us was that Wil couldn�t be trusted again, not yet, though he seemed genuine and honest. What got on my nerves was how Wil could stand there and profess how he felt about Paul when he had entered the studio to see Paul and I getting passionate. Did he think he still had a chance?
Paul exhaled heavily and rubbed his temples, unsure of what to say. He was surprised and touched by Wil�s behaviour and his proclamation, but the look in his eyes told me that he no longer cared for Wil and still felt hurt about what his ex-boyfriend had done to him. The humiliation, and especially the anger, would be hard to forget.
"Wil...It was clear from the start that it wasn�t going to work out between us," he finally said. "I�ve made the same mistake numerous times before. I always end up getting hurt." He briefly sniffed the air surrounding Wil and his expression turned to disgust. "You�ve been drinking, haven�t you?"
Wil shrugged. "A couple of glasses."
"So you meant absolutely nothing that you said to me."
"No, that's not true! I may have been doing a little bit of drinking, but that doesn�t mean that what I�m saying isn�t true! I never had the guts to say this to you until now!"
"And yet you had the guts to slap me in front of everyone in the dressing room."
"Paul, I told you my reasons, I was messed up! That wasn�t the real me in there; I can change!"
I�ve been with plenty of guys like you, mate, and your type could never change. Besides," Paul glanced at me, "I�m with Rich now."
"Rich?" Wil turned to me, his angry and sinister side quickly returning when he saw he wasn�t getting his way. Paul was right � he would never change, not even if he tried. "What makes you think he could treat you any better than I could?" He asked Paul while narrowing his eyes at me.
"He�s already proved it."
"But...what..." Wil waved his hand in my direction. "Look at him! He�s bloody boring! He�s nothing like me!"
"Yes, that�s his greatest asset," Paul snapped in retaliation, sliding into the couch beside me. "Wil, I appreciate you finally deciding to be honest, but just let go. I don�t want you. I�ve had to put up with a lot of shit in my time, and my relationship with you was the last draw, if you could even call it a relationship."
"Paul, please, just listen to me-" Wil began to move closer in a final desperate attempt to regain Paul�s affections, but Paul held his palm out to him, shutting him out.
"I�ve listened. I want you to turn around and walk out of this studio. We�re through."
Wil looked as though he�d been slapped in the face � which I wish I�d done. He deserved the exact same treatment he showed Paul, but unfortunately Wil had rarely in his life been told the word �no�. Paul was giving him what he�d deserved for a long time. With the realization that Paul wasn�t going to take him back, his shoulder sank and he took one final, long look at what he�d lost before walking out of the studio without a word, shutting the door behind him.
Neither of us said anything straight away, letting the conversation that had just taken place sink in. The only sound in the room was the soft volume of the radio, which was now playing a slow, sad song. After a minute I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and pecked his cheek.
"I�m proud of you," I said.
"Proud?"
"Mmm-hmmm. Someone needed to give that loser a kick in the arse, and no matter what he says, there was no excuse for hitting you the way he did."
"He wasn�t making a genuine attempt, anyway. The alcohol loosened the tongue but it didn�t do anything for the temper. He won�t change. He couldn�t; that�s the way he is. Brought up by a rich dad who always gave him what he wanted, would probably let him get away with cold-blooded murder and fussed over him as if the sun shone out of his arse." Paul sighed and snuggled into my side. "In a small and silly way, I get jealous sometimes when people have dads like that."
"Has he tried to get in touch with you lately? Your dad?"
"Not for about six months. It�s only when he realises that his son�s making something of himself that he decides to come crawling back, begging for forgiveness. I know what would result if I let him back into my life, though. I�ve got enough migraines to deal with as it is. Life�s getting better, though. Becoming easier to handle. I�ve got at least two reasons to get up every morning...my music and you." Paul sat in silence before nestling his head into my shoulder and slipping his hand into mine. "I�m sorry, babe. I should�ve locked the door."
"Don�t worry about it. There�ll be plenty of opportunities to get reacquainted with each-other once the album�s finished."
Paul looked up at me, widening his eyes and smiling. "What? What�ll be happening?"
"Well, let me put it this way: Bali."
"Bali! Ohhh, just what my strained little brain needs!" He brought his hand to my shoulder, pulling himself up a little higher. "You do realise, though, that once we get there we won�t be leaving our hotel room, don�t you?"
I tossed my head back and laughed. "Well, we�ll have to leave the room at least once. I hear there�s an interesting little spot on Jimbaran Bay where we can do basically anything we want and nobody would criticize."
"Yeah, probably because they�d be doing the same things themselves!" He grinned wider and softly kissed me. "Suddenly I�ve got an incredible urge to finish this damn album as quick as I can." He yawned helplessly and giggled. "The problem is, I�m absolutely bushed."
"Would the studio owners mind if we stayed here overnight?"
"I don�t think so."
I stood up, strode to the door and locked it, then returned to the couch and stretched out against the back. I patted the spare space and Paul crawled beside me, holding me close. The couch was surprisingly large and allowed us both comfortable spaces to sleep without the feeling of being too cramped.
"Get some sleep, babe," I whispered, lovingly stroking his hair and closing my eyes. I was much more tired than I thought I was as I started dozing immediately. "Don�t think about the album or Wil or your dad. Just dream about us in Bali, enjoying the sun, lying by the pool, relaxing...and us being with each other. It�ll be like we�re in Heaven."
As I drifted off to a peaceful sleep, the last thing I recalled was Paul brushing his lips against my cheek and whispering, "I�m already there with you."
Part 17