m/m Deano's Summer: A Muscle University Story

[muscleaddict]

10 minutes ago, stewbake said:

Story, no. Documentary, yes!

Ssshhh!! You're gonna give the game away Ryan...er, I mean Stew. 

 

[muscleaddict]

1 minute ago, Sjdmuscle said:

Ryan dies , but Igor walks in.........

Who? 

[DennisFLL]

1 hour ago, muscleaddict said:

Who? 

Since these are actually real, living and breathing, characters, I get the documentary statement from Stew.  But who is Igor?  Is this a reference to Frankenstein, and if it is, what is the connection?

[Sjdmuscle]

Killing off Ryan, Igor I'll take them to the lab to re in animate him

[DennisFLL]

4 minutes ago, Sjdmuscle said:

Killing off Ryan, Igor I'll take them to the lab to re in animate him

All of you guys are so amusing!

[WashburnDaddy]

On 8/18/2020 at 6:34 PM, muscleaddict said:

Ponce is quite an old fashioned phrase. It's the type of thing you'd probably hear someone's dad say. Some of Deano's other phrases are similar, like pratting about and bloody nora. It's kind of like "dad speak"! 

But yeah - I guess the proper use of it is a guy whose effeminate or pretentious or posh or a bit fancy. Obviously Ryan is none of those things but it felt like something Deano Snr would call him because he's good looking and well groomed and has the trendy haircut. And obviously nothing like him or the type of rough & ready meathead bodybuilders you'd find at a gym like Deano's. Hence "ponce face pretty boy". 

Bloody Nora - still in use around here!

[WashburnDaddy]

I've been sort of saving the last chapter and stretching out reading it as - it's too good to hurry and I know there's only one more chapter to go! Then - well, you'll start another story soon I'm sure and I'm already looking forward to that let alone how you tie all the loose ends of Deano's summer together and draw this to a conclusion!

[MuscleJoe]

20 hours ago, WashburnDaddy said:

I've been sort of saving the last chapter and stretching out reading it as - it's too good to hurry and I know there's only one more chapter to go! Then - well, you'll start another story soon I'm sure and I'm already looking forward to that let alone how you tie all the loose ends of Deano's summer together and draw this to a conclusion!

I tried.   I couldn’t resist but to read it all at once. 

[muscleaddict]

Right, here we go with the last chapter. A MASSIVE thanks to everyone here for all the amazing feedback and comments you've given me on this one! I've really enjoyed writing and sharing this here over the past few months. The writing process of this alone was something I loved doing - but then to put it out there and have people enjoy it so much and be so invested in the story and characters - I really can't tell you how awesome that is! So thanks again, everyone. 

Twenty Three

It’s so fucking weird waking up to an empty house on a Monday. Everything's so quiet. Dad is at work. Josh is out. I guess I can pretty much do what I want now that I'm not working at the gym. The rest of the days of my summer holidays laid out before me. What the hell am I gonna do to fill those days? I have so much freedom it’s almost overwhelming. 

I wonder if Ryan's been wondering where I am. I picture him in the gym reception, leaning over the desk talking to Big Steve. His triceps popping underneath the sleeves of one of his tight fitted “RYAN NORTH PERSONAL TRAINING” t-shirts. Pretending like everything’s normal, but secretly wracked with nerves because he’s waiting for the moment I walk through the entrance of the gym with my dad.

What would he have thought when that didn't happen this morning and my dad walked in solo? Will he be wondering if I’m avoiding him, just like he was doing with me last week? Maybe he’ll just assume it’s one of my days off, even though I always work Mondays. 

Will he ask my dad where I am? Will he be nervous about doing so? In the same way he did those few times we were hanging out. In his car. In his flat. That time he came over to me at the gym to talk to me after he’d posed next to Bozza. All because he clearly liked me and I just couldn’t see it. 

And the way he got nervous when he pushed his bronzed veiny forearm up against mine and then held my hand in his car for the first time and told me that he liked me. My chest feels heavy and I try and push the thought away.

I pick up my phone and text Tony and Nick and we arrange to meet up tomorrow night. Tony says something about a lads weekend away. Just the three of us. The idea of which gives me a surprising pinch of happiness. Because it feels like the kind of thing I should be doing. Normal summer stuff with my two oldest mates. 

I go into town and wander around the shops. All the time wondering what the chances are that I’ll suddenly run into him. That he’ll be out grabbing something in between clients. Or before he heads to the gym for the first client of the day.

I avoid the South Laines, where Ryan took me to lunch. I don’t go anywhere near the pier where we stood side by side on that dance machine he made me go on. Which I wouldn’t have done just for anyone. Embarrassed and worried I was making a tit of myself. But loving it because I was with him. Because he was there. 

And I don’t go anywhere near the pub where he held my hand under the table and looked at me in the way that no one’s ever looked at me before. I’ll probably never go to that pub again.

More than once, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by quitting the gym. Whether I should have just gone in today with my head held high. Completely ignoring Ryan. Being the bigger man. Pretending that I don’t give a shit. But what would be the point? I’m sick of pretending. I’m just sick of it.

It’s only when I’m walking back home that I start to think about the text message Ryan sent me yesterday asking me if I was okay. The text I didn’t reply to. I haven’t looked at it today, but I know it’s still there. Sitting on my phone. Did he really expect me to reply? Is he still hoping that I will, eagerly checking his phone every so often like I was doing with him last week? 

And then these other thoughts start floating into my head. What if things between Ryan and me aren't really over? What if there’s a way that we can still keep doing what we were doing? 

I know Ryan said he was giving things another go with Katie, but what if he changes his mind? Even though she’s pregnant. Even though his girlfriend’s fucking pregnant. But that doesn’t mean they have to be together. What if he decides he was happier when he was spending time with me rather than her? What if Ryan decides he wants to BE with me?

But I can’t shake this feeling that any such notion seems like a fantasy. Something that just wouldn’t happen. At least not to me. 

When my dad gets home I ask him how the gym was, feeling ridiculously nervous as I do. He gives me a weird look and makes a joke that, believe it or not, the whole place didn’t fall apart just because I’ve decided I don’t wanna help out there anymore. 

He doesn’t say anything about Ryan. 

I don’t think about him quite as much on Tuesday. And barely at all on the night when I go bowling with Tony and Nick. It’s the most fun I’ve had with them for so long. And, I guess, more like what I had imagined my first summer home from university would be like.

But when I’m at the kitchen table eating dinner on Wednesday, feeling like I’m in a surprisingly good mood, my dad says something which completely changes that and makes my heart feel like it’s jumped into my fucking throat.

“Your bezzie mate’s been asking after you!”

Fuck. I don’t say anything. I don’t look up from my plate.

“Who?!” Josh cries.

Fuck’s sake, Josh.

“Ponce face pretty boy Ryan!”

I suddenly feel like I’m falling. I carry on looking down at my dinner.

“Oi!” my dad says to me. “Are you deaf as well as ugly?”

“I heard you!” I snap, rolling my eyes and pulling a face. 

My dad drops the subject, but then I can’t stop thinking about him for the rest of the night. So Ryan has been asking after me. I guess that’s normal. It probably doesn’t mean anything.

The next morning I wake up at about five am. And everything just starts going round and round in my head. Everything that’s happened over the last few weeks between Ryan and me. All the events that have led to now. 

Being in his car on the way to Portsmouth. Him serenading me with that cheesy nineties boy band song. Doing his multiple Sloth impressions. Lending me his DVD. The way he was always coming over and talking to me in the gym with that smirk on his face (his stupidly good looking face). While doing that thing with his hand clenched over his fist. His biceps bulging under the sleeves of his t-shirt.

I think about him posing in the gym with Bozza. Standing there and watching him blow up his beautiful biceps. Those curved lats flexing in front of me. His gorgeous blocky abs and perfect pecs.

I think about the time me and the lads bumped into him in that pub with Katie and watching him from the bar with his hand placed on her back. How I was pissed off at him after that even though he didn’t do anything wrong. Him inviting me back to his flat. How it felt to sit next to him on his sofa. Such a small insignificant thing which felt anything but. 

And I think about when he held my hand for the first time in his car outside my house. And the first time he kissed me when we were parked outside his flat. With his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. Me gripping on to his forearm.

And suddenly I want him. So fucking much. I wanna see him. I wanna kiss him. I just wanna fucking be with him. I want it so much it hurts.

And then, when I’m sitting on my bed on my laptop later that morning, resisting the urge to check Instagram, my phone pings with a message. My body does something weird because, somehow, I just fucking know it’s from him.

I pick up my phone and there it is. A text from Ryan North. 

“D - can we talk?”

And I hate (I HATE) what getting that text does to me. I hate that just seeing his name on my phone screen makes my insides feel like they’ve been set on fire. And I hate how it makes me want to see him even more than I already do.

I end up falling asleep for a bit in the afternoon, and when I wake up on my bed an hour or so later, still in a sleepy daze, it’s like a switch has suddenly gone off. I’m still mad at Ryan. Of course I am. But I need to see him. I need to talk to him. 

Suddenly nothing else in the world seems more important.

I text him back and ask him when. He says he’ll come to the house and get me after he’s finished with his client, but the thought of being in Ryan’s car again makes my stomach hurt, so I text him back and tell him I’ll meet him at his flat instead.

I grab my favourite black hoodie, pull it over my head and look at my reflection in the mirror. The words “Montgomery University” looking back at me.

I sit down on my bed, grab my phone and load up Instagram. I go to Luke Henderson’s “from_geek_to_freak” profile, surprised and quietly impressed with the amount of muscle he’s actually packed on since I last saw him, and I unfollow him. Then I go to Sebastian Wood’s profile and do the same thing. I sit there for a little while on my bed, looking out to my room, this weird sense of relief and closure washing over me. And then a thought comes out of nowhere. I hope they’re both happy. I actually genuinely do.

I walk along the seafront to Ryan’s. Past the lamp posts and railings that are painted green. The sound of seagulls in the distance. I really do love this town. 

The evening has this strangely poignant feel to it. It feels like it’s the end of something.

And now I’m standing on the doorstep to the old Victorian house which contains Ryan's flat. My chest does something weird when I hear his voice on the intercom. It’s only when I’m walking up the stairs that I suddenly realise how fucking badly I want to see him again.

Has it really only been five days since I last saw him? It feels like longer.

And just as the door to his flat comes into sight, it’s opening and there he is. Six foot tall Super Heavyweight champion bodybuilder Ryan North. Towering over me. Wearing the tight fitted red hoodie he was wearing the last time we were properly together. His big arms and pecs straining underneath the material. 

Jesus. If I was gonna have my fucking heart broken by a guy, I guess I chose the perfect guy to do it.

“Alright, D!” Ryan says to me as I approach him.

He looks nervous. But there’s something else there too. Relief maybe? I dunno. It’s like he’s happy to see me. And I hate to admit that in a way, I’m feeling it too. 

I still feel angry at him. And hurt. But God - it’s so fucking nice to see him. 

“Alright!” I say back as I walk into his flat. 

I get a waft of his scent as he closes the door behind me. Fucking hell. I can’t believe I’m back here. I never thought I’d be in this flat again.

I follow him into his living room. And now we’re sitting next to each other on his sofa. It feels so different from the last time I was sat here. And the times before that. 

“So … what’s it like being a free man?”

I’m not looking at him. I’m just looking straight ahead. I shrug, not knowing what to say. It feels awkward. And weird. Doing this small talk thing with Ryan.

“What did your dad say when you told him you didn’t wanna work there?”

I chew the inside of my mouth. 

“It wasn’t ‘cause of you.” 

That just comes out. I look over at him. Jesus. That face. “I didn’t -” he stutters, clearly not knowing what to say. And now we’re just looking at each other. And something shifts. I feel a pinch in my chest.

He bites his lip. “I’m sorry, D.”

Fuck.

“I was a twat,” he says, shaking his head. I can tell he’s genuinely sorry. Suddenly I’m finding it hard to be pissed off at him. Suddenly I just want to reach out and comfort him and tell him it’s okay. Even though it’s not.

“I found out about Katie and … I didn’t really know how to … handle things, I guess. I shouldn't have ignored you like that.”

I chew the inside of my head, nod and look down at my thighs.

“When did you find out?”

I look up at him.

“The day before the barbecue,” he says gently.

I nod. Something suddenly clicks. So that’s why he was being weird with me that day? He’d already found out that Katie was pregnant. Maybe he’d already decided to get back together with her. That's why he ignored the text I sent him that morning. Why he didn’t want me touching him. And why he reacted the way he did when I suggested we go to my room. 

I look at his huge thighs next to mine. Not long ago I would have been able to reach out and just casually touch him. But not now. Everything’s changed. Probably forever. My stomach sharply twists and I look away from him.

“So you’re gonna be a dad?”

“Yeah!” he replies, with a tone of surprise. I look at his face. He's wearing this expression like he can’t quite believe it. “How mental is that?”

I chew the inside of my mouth, not knowing how to respond. 

“I didn’t plan it to happen. But … it has. And I want it.”

Fuck. My stomach clenches.

“It’s something I want, D!”

I nod and look at his thighs. “Can you do me a favour?” I say.

I look up at his face again. He furrows his eyebrows at me. He suddenly looks nervous. Like he’s scared of what I might say next. 

“If it’s a boy …” I say. “Don’t call him Ryan Junior.”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth curls into a grin. And now we’re just looking at each other. The energy in the room shifts. And it’s still there. That thing between us. It hasn’t gone away. Despite what’s happened. His eyes go down and he looks at my body. I feel a stab of something in my stomach and I look away. Almost like it hurts to look at him for too long.

And now I’m just looking at the floor in front of me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

I still don’t look up at him.

“If it wasn’t for Katie …”

Fuck. My insides twist. I’m still not looking up. There’s a pause. Ryan’s not saying anything. It feels like it’s going on for ages. And then …

“I think we’d probably be holding hands right now.”

I close my eyes. My stomach hurts.

“Can we still? Just … like … one more time?”

I look over at Ryan’s thighs. And then … his big hand, still a little tanned from his bodybuilding competition a few weeks ago, reaches for mine and he tangles his fingers with mine and squeezes my hand tight.

Fuck. I close my eyes. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe we’re here again. I can’t believe I’m sitting here holding the hand of this beautiful man.

I still can’t look at his face. I’m not sure what would happen if I did. He’s squeezing my hand. He’s not letting go. 

Without even thinking, I tip my head down and rest it on Ryan’s shoulder. The cotton material of his red tight fitted hoodie against my cheek. He rubs his face against my head. Fuck.

I didn’t realise it was possible to feel this happy and sad at the same time until now.

“You and me …” he says, “Fucking hell, D. It was so good. But … I think we both kinda knew it was gonna end at some point.”

I close my eyes, feeling a sting. A part of me wants to ask why. A part of me feels like asking him if the idea of us being together is such a crazy fucking notion. But I know Ryan’s right. I know what he’s saying makes sense.

Ryan un-grips his hand from mine. I look up at him. Fuck. The way he’s looking at me. Like he’s hurting just as much as I am. And then his arm goes around my shoulder and I wrap my arm around his waist and my head falls to his chest.

And now I’m gripping onto him. My face buried into his chest. And Ryan North is holding me. His arm is around me, holding me tight. He buries his face into the top of my head again. And right now, I don’t want to let go of this beautiful man. I don’t ever want to let go. 

It feels as if we stay like that for ages. Just holding each other. Not saying anything. Until Ryan loosens his grip on me and his body shifts. And something in the room shifts too. 

And I know it’s time to go. 

He walks me to the door of his building. We’re just standing there awkwardly, close to each other. 

“I guess I’ll still see you around the gym?” he says, this pained look on his face.

I half-heartedly nod. “Maybe.” But I don’t think I will. I don’t think I’ll be going to my dad’s gym for the rest of the summer. It just feels like unnecessary torture. To be in the same place as Ryan and not get to touch him, or even just look at him the way I want. I did that for so long. I don’t think I can do it anymore. 

I look at his face for one last time. How good looking he is doesn’t really seem significant anymore. When I look at him now, I just see Ryan. It’s just Ryan. I think I’d feel the way I do about him no matter what he looked like. 

I turn my eyes away from him, step out of the door and start to walk away. My stomach hurts. My whole body feels heavy. And it’s kind of funny, because it turns out my mum was right. It really does feel like it’s the end of the world.

I know Ryan’s still standing there. Watching me walk away. But I don’t turn back. I can’t turn back. And even when he says two words to me, maybe the last two words I’ll ever hear him say, I still don’t turn around.

“Bye, Deano.”

THE END

[WashburnDaddy]

Superb! The whole story! Bittersweet without a doubt but it reads, and feels, like a real rite of passage. The characters are real, especially how the threads of Deano have been run through from MU to this (and possibly on to another?) You really do "capture" so well an insight into what I think has been, for many of us, our own life journey when it comes to acknowledging our sexual orientation and trying to find our way through the people and situations we may have found ourselves in - our lives. Thank you for this again @muscleaddict - for the work you've undoubtedly put into this and for sharing it with a wider audience. I hope you feel a sense of achievement and pride in your creativity as you deserve it. x