psycho ex's and jizzy bed sheets

"hey, question: is there any chance you had sex in my bed?"
"No, i have memory foam on my bed. i like getting the extra support on my knees when i'm going down on a guy."
"yeah, well it definately looks like someone fucked in my bed this weekend."
"really? did you swab it? is there a mouldering condom in there?"
"I make my bed in a REALLY specific way!"
"Fuck you are INSANE. No. I didn't fuck in your bed."
"Who did?!"
"Why don't you ask the only other person you were stupid enough to give our spare key to?!"
Stunned i watched him rapidly digest the thought. On through the process of going from who on earth.... to oh god damn it.
"Jimi was here?"
"So, remember when you stomped in the house and i said 'oh hi i missed you and we should talk about something?""
"this is what we need to talk about, I guess."
"sit."
I slid onto the floor into the cup of a pillow pile and invited him to join me. no one likes giving bad news, especially me. thankfully i had essentially chugged a bottle of wine out of panic and stress waiting for Brad to come home. so that lubed me up enough to feel motivated to talk. i did have to caution myself not to run off like a greyhound as i usually do when i'm drunk and chatty.
"I got in from Vegas early..." which was bullshit. i wasn't even in vegas, i went up north to get topped by some older dude for the weekend. i just didn't want to tell anyone in case it was a total wash out. oh hey, no, i do tell people. but it's more to give a cell number and address in case i got murdered. you know, safety first. "vegas" was my catch-all excuse to be gone for the weekend. it suited me fine as most people assumed i was in some porn industry orgy. i'd rather they have that fantasy and damned if i want to tell people when i'm going to sit in a sling for 2 hour rounds doing poppers and seeing if i can finally get a proper fucking.
"how early did you get in?"
"Saturday... it was a write off and whatever i came home super early."

truth? my ass hurt too much to take more reaming so we got lunch, had a kiss in his truck and i took the bus home.
Being an awfully good liar i had made sure to move my car out of the parking garage so it looked for realsies that i had taken off.

"I pulled in and noticed Jimi's car down there and I thought maybe you had come home early as well. Up to the apartment and i can hear the tv on and some bustling in the kitchen so i walked in and screamed 'Lucy! i'm home!' and Jimi was in the kitchen naked and let me tell you, he's kinda gone to seed since you two broke up." nice. way to throw in a diss. that'll solve everything! fuck.
"WHAT?! he was just in the apartment naked!?"
"yeah... and remember last month when we got high on that really shitty e..."
"that was just speed?"
"that night. do you recall how we wound up in a screaming match about how you thought i was eating your expensive hippy cereal and i thought you were scamming my l'occtaine shampoo?"
"ah not one of our finer moments..."
"So THAT mystery is solved. he was eating a huge bowl of the cereal and you know how that shampoo just flutters around in the air with that delicious smell? clearly he had jumped out of the shower after putting a handful into his hair."
Brad was still stunned so i kept things moving. it was an impending crisis and my instinct is to be wordy and take my time getting to the punchline.
"i asked him if you were here and he shook his head no. that's when i, you know... freaked the fuck out."
"what the hell did you do?!"
"lunged at him and shook the shit out of him like a rag doll screaming at him for being in my apartment and gave him a big shove into the living room."

my anger was propelled beyond my normal limits knowing that this piece of shit had gotten me banned from my favourite bar for 6 months due to him fighting with Brad and I. and another violent rush from me came from thinking about seeing Jimi grab Brad's arm so roughly it left him bruised to the bone.

"I took my jacket off and stood over him screaming. it made no sense, but i was clearly upset." that's the dumbed down version.

truth?
"you rotten little piece of shit! how did you get in here? tell me you don't have a key!" a mighty slap across the face. he was suprised by my entrance so i had to ride this wave before he stood up to me and most likely curb my jaw off the toilet bowl. i gripped his wrist in my patented owch hold and pinched deeply. i wanted to break his arm and knock out what few real teeth of his remained after a long childhood of abuse and neglect. i knew if i broke something i'd have to talk to the cops. fuck that.

Back to the Brad Version.
"He screamed at me, "Stop! Stop!! i have a key! i didn't think anyone was home...."
"Stop stop what?"
"uh... stop stop...being... mad?"
"real convincing... did you hurt him?"
"Nothing permanent. Do you want to hear this... or?" god help you if you interrupt me telling a story.
"Nathan!!"
"ok ok speeding things up. He said he didn't think anyone was home and that's why he was hanging out at the house."
"How would he know?"
"easy enough to find out that you're out of town. my car was moved out of the garage... i mean, i obviously moved my car out to go so he tailgated someone into the garage. I think he was waiting to see me leave as well."
Brad looked sick. this whole rant was started with a terse investigation on who fucked in his bed and knew the ending wouldn't be good.
"so he clearly had a key. did you give him one?"
"of course not! never. even when we got back together."
"Cute. so he took the key and got it cut."
"wh... who... was he here with someone?"

Truth?
I was just about to dummy this fuck head in the face a couple of times and saw someone sit up on the couch.
"well who in the FUCK is this?!" ready to get tag teamed i reared up like a trapped animal to look much bigger of an opponent than i actually am. 8/10 times it works. for the other two times you get your ass kicked or you run away.
the new naked boy clamped a pillow to his crotch.
"THOSE WERE MADE BY MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER! DO NOT GET YOUR DICK CHEESE ON THEM! DROP THEM!" new naked was crying and looked scared. ok, so he's on the back burner. the one in my grip was the main issue.
"You've been coming in here while we're gone and using it as some sort of swanky fuck shack, haven't you?! this isn't some villa for you to escape to! you go to the bathhouse like every other stupid whore and you get a fucking towel rental!!"

Brad looked so sad. let's get it over with.
"yeah he was with a guy."
"who?"

Truth? it was The Boy. The Boy being that one boy who got away from Brad. The Boy provided a steamy affair and was the muse for his second novel. which actually was my least favourite that he did. it was too lame and happy. i like tears and Irish famine-levels of despair. Brad wasn't the type to get his heart whisked away so from the assorted conversations we had on the topic i knew how much Brad liked him. he said after the novel came out he spent the better part of 8 months suicidal and incredibly depressed after The Boy dumped him to be single. he was thriving on all the attention from being that guy in the book. no one can blame him for wanting to cash in on it. so The Boy broke Brad's heart and as much as he had fucked, screwed and blew his wad on a ton of great guys, i was never convinced it was ever resolved.

"ah, man.... listen. i don't want to hurt you."
"don't... i'm just going to pull the sheets off my bed."
"want to sleep in my bed? let me tell you, that memory foam really cradles you while you're trying. trust."