becoming us by Anah Crow

take a hot shower.
    He scrubbed himself from head to toe and tried not to cry. I’m disgusting . It wasn’t the sucking Zac off, and it wasn’t even the liking it that he hated himself for this morning: freaking out after and crying like a fucking pussy, again , was beyond the pale. Making Zac feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault was a million times worse than crying, too. He turned the shower over to cold and stood in the icy water until the hot clench inside that felt like tears wasn’t so strong.
    How was he supposed to tell Zac he just wasn’t brave enough to do this without hurting Zac’s feelings again and again? It’s not you; it’s me . Bryce got out of the shower, toweled off a little, and pulled on his jeans. He couldn’t just ask Zac to keep taking chances because he wanted to try out being queer.
    Bryce knew it wasn’t just wanting to try it out. He knew it was more like he wanted to stop pretending it wasn’t true. He already knew, inside. All he wanted now was to go ask Zac to forgive him, but he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t go back to his room. Downstairs, he put the coffee maker on and then went to the basement to take his frustration and pain out on the punching bag down there, bare knuckles and all.
    Punching the bag, punishing himself as much as it, made him feel so much better. He lost himself in it, throwing one punch after another, the rhythm almost as soothing as the pain.
    “Bryce?” Zac’s tentative voice broke into his trance.
    Bryce threw one more vicious punch at the bag. He could have been a hell of a boxer if he’d really had any heart for hitting people. Another way he’d never lived up to his potential. He caught the bag on the return and turned toward Zac, even though it hurt in his chest to make himself meet Zac’s eyes. Zac looked really rough.
    Becoming Us - 47

    “Hey.”
    “Hey. I, um.” Zac hefted the mugs. “I brought coffee.” Zac was staring at Bryce’s hands and, for a moment, Bryce thought Zac couldn’t even look at him for very long. Then Bryce realized that his hands were bashed to hell from the punching bag. He couldn’t help feeling like he deserved it.
    “Thanks.” He reached out and took the cup Zac offered. That he didn’t deserve. Not with the way he’d made Zac feel so lousy.
    Bryce wanted to kiss the uncertainty off Zac’s face, wanted to crawl back into bed with him and kiss and touch until they came like they had the first night. The urge made him swallow hard, because it was painful and unexpected, and because he knew he couldn’t do that ever again. He couldn’t take his chances with freaking out like that and hurting Zac, or anyone for that matter.
    “I’m sorry,” Zac said, biting his lip as soon as the words were out. “I’m sorry I showed up like that, last night. I knew you weren’t... I knew better. I’m sorry that I pushed you into that. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
    Oh . Bryce had to turn away and take a drink of coffee to hide the way tears welled up in his eyes.
    Damn it, Zac needed to stop being so nice . “It’s not your fault.” He shrugged and wandered over to nudge a dumbbell lying near the weight bench, herding it back where it belonged with one foot. “It’s my problem.”
    “It’s mine if I’m the one causing it,” Zac said quietly, staring down at his coffee like it might have the answers to their problems.
    “You didn’t...” Bryce put his coffee down on the bench and picked the weight up to put it back in the rack. His hands hurt. His chest hurt.
    “I woke you up while I was drunk and stupid, and started kissing you,” Zac pointed out. He didn’t look up. He looked like he was hurting worse than Bryce. “And I told you I wanted more than that. I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of causing the problem.”
    “I could have said no.” Bryce sat down on the weight bench and picked up his coffee. God, Zac looked so sad. “I didn’t. My fault, okay? Just. Don’t worry