Sweet Bill Writing

“Hey, hey… Eric?” 

Malek had sat down in front of the crying Eric. As usual, he was faster than me. Maybe it was his job as a cop that had made his reflexes faster than mine. 

“What's going on?” Malek laid his hands on his knees while Eric dried his tears with his arm. 

“Fuck… I guess it came too close to home or something… It's just scary…” 

Malek gave Eric a confused look. He knew well that Eric was obsessed with death, even if he didn't know about his mental health problems. It didn't add up. Someone like Eric should be interested and write a dark song about it, but he cried like he was eleven years old, still abused and neglected. I looked at him worriedly, mostly because I was scared he would tell Malek too much. Chance knew about his disease, but it was just me and my father who knew what Eric had done. 

“Okay? I'm sorry… I didn't know you would react like this; I thought we all were interested. It's such an old case.” 

Eric nodded a little. Me, who knew him so well, could see him searching in his head after a good explanation.

“Yeah, I am… It's just that I lived in that forest a while.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Would he confess now? Tell his crime to a cop? I was relieved Malek just looked at Eric because my horrified expression would also make him wonder what was going on. 

“You did? Can you live there?” Asked Malek. He had never been in the forest, and just visited my mother’s place a few times. She liked Malek, but he wasn't really a fan of hers. 

“We lived in a trailer… It was just for a short while. I don't even think my mom owned it…” 

Eric dragged his bare feet through our rug. I started to realize then that he was kind of smart to start talking about his childhood. There wasn't a soul who didn't get uncomfortable and stopped thinking about anything else. Malek’s eyes always got glassy when Eric told him how it was to shower at our place, the first in months, or how it was to go home when he didn't have any other place to go. That was also one of the things that made Malek dislike my mother so much. Even if she “didn't know," she must have known. Eric was always full of bruises. 

Malek sighed deeply with grief. Just like everyone else, he wished he could have been there to save him. I was there but knew it wasn't so easy that everyone pictured it. 

“We don't need to talk about that case. You shouldn't relive anything from that time…” said Malek lowly and sat down next to Eric instead. Eric looked up at Malek quickly. 

“No, no… You should. It would be weird to not know.” 

I just sat and looked at them because when I thought of the crime, it didn't sound like Eric's at all. It was a grave from the 70s with two men in it.

“It's two men, buried there in the 70s. Like it's super old,” I said, looking at Eric intensely so he would realize it had nothing to do with him. He looked back at me but lowered his eyes. I knew it meant that he didn't take in what I said. He was already worried and couldn't stop just because I told him. 

“But aren't you interested? Your mom lives just there.” Malek turned to me, where he sat in the middle of us, and I looked up at him a bit, startled. I didn't think about myself at all at that moment, just Eric, so the question confused me. It was like I didn't have any of my own feelings. 

“Yes… Of course. But it's old, so it will not be anything or anyone I heard about.”

“But your parents were born in the 60s. They might have known who they were?” 

“Yeah, maybe. It was in the 70s after all…” I knew I repeated myself, but I really just wanted Eric to see the full picture, but he just sat in his own thoughts. What I didn't know was that he looked out through the window, seeing a crow land on our back porch railing. Eric didn't listen to facts; he read signs and listened to his feelings. 

Slowly, he stood up from the couch and stretched his arms over his head. 

“I think I'll take a nap… If that's okay?” 

“Of course,” said Malek with a nod. 

Even if I stared at him, Eric didn't look at me. I knew that he was in deep thoughts and that he probably didn't dare to tell me because I wouldn't understand. Still, I knew he would tell me after a while, anyway. It was too much for him to bear on his own. 

While Malek watched a series I didn't like, I walked up to Eric’s room. He had thrown off all his clothes, like he always did when he took a nap. I lay down behind him as a big spoon and kissed the Poe quote on his back. I thought he was sleeping, but when he pulled my arm around his waist, I understood he was awake. 

“It has nothing to do with you… It's super old…” I said again while hugging him with my cheek against his smooth back. 

“I know, but maybe they will dig more now? Maybe they will find him too?” 

I hadn't thought that far, so I didn't have anything good to say. Eric sighed deeply. 

“I'm so fucking tired… You should go before Malek wonders where you are…” Eric mumbled down on the pillow. I didn't want to release him, though, but when I understood he really wanted to sleep, I stood up from bed and left him alone. 

Both Malek and I left him alone, so his nap became 13 hours long. 

××× 

It was time for Eric to leave us. He needed to rehearse with the band before leaving to tour in Asia. They waited for him in LA, where Chance lived with his wife and two kids. The wife he constantly cheated on. No one in that band lived a perfect life. 

Eric was tired, though, too tired, and thirteen hours of sleep a day had become sixteen. I tried to force him up, but it was hard, and when I succeeded, he just ate and visited the toilet, and then he went back to the guestroom. It wasn't hard to see that he was depressed. Malek didn't question it, though; he connected it to him taking an overdose just weeks ago. I was annoyed because he didn't listen to what we were saying. The murdered man in the forest had been killed in the 70s, on top of that, together with another man. It had nothing to do with him. 

Malek started to become desperate when Eric had been like that for more than a week, also being five days late to his band’s rehearsal. He just wanted him to get up, to be normal, so on a Friday night he sat by the kitchen table rolling perfect joints. 

“He said he would get up if he got some weed…” he said when I stared at him from the door opening.

I wanted to protest because it felt wrong to give a depressed person weed, but I didn't. I also wanted him to leave his bed. Quietly, I went up to Eric's room and looked in through a crack. He was awake but stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes. I didn't know what he was thinking about, but I could already guess. I slept badly every night because I was afraid he would try to leave us. Leave us permanently. Sometimes I cried quietly just at the thought of him leaving me. 

I walked into mine and Malek's bedroom without saying anything to Eric. It was hard when he was like that, and I waited for him to become normal again, just like he had become miraculously before. 

While I sat on the bed, trying to distract myself with Instagram and TikTok, I heard the floor boards creek and then a light knock on a door. 

“Eric? I have it… Can't you join me in the living room?” 

It was Malek, using that soft voice he used when someone was sad or anxious. At first he didn't get an answer, but then Eric sighed deeply. 

“Can I just shower first? I don't smell that nice…” He tried to fake a laugh, but it sounded as fake as I knew it was. 

“Of course.” 

I knew what I needed to do while he showered and was happy to have a task. I would ventilate his room and change the sheets. I knew how it smelled when he was depressed. How the air was stale and sweat had dried on his sheets. I took my chance when I heard the shower start down the hallway. 

I believed Eric didn't keep any secrets from me, but he obviously had one. Under his mattress lay a black velvet drawstring bag. It was just a bit bigger than my hand. At first, I thought it was a charger case or something, but the things inside were way too small and rumbled around in my hand. I opened it carefully and looked down into the darkness, but I couldn't see anything. So I spilled out the items in my hand. Five black feathers, a silver pentagram necklace, and various crystals in different colors. I looked at it skeptically. Even if I was a goth child, I had never been close to believing in Wicca, New Age, or Satanism, but it was obvious Eric had fallen down that hole. It wasn't surprising when he was interested in everything else that could be connected to the darkness. I sighed but stuffed it under the mattress again, bored. Sometimes I thought he was silly. I didn't believe it at all, even if Eric had a herd of crows following him. 

I continued to make the bed before going down stairs, where it smelled of marijuana. Both my men sat on the couch. Malek was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and pants, while Eric simply wore a pair of black Nike track pants. His black hair was still wet, and the longer part behind his neck stuck to his skin. Even if he had slept for a week, he looked so good, especially when he took a toke of his joint between his thumb and index finger. He was an expert smoker compared to Malek, who looked a bit awkward with the joint between his fingers. 

I sat down opposite them in the brocade arm chair while looking at the table in front of me. Four lumpy joints lay next to the TV remote. I stared at them until Eric took one. I looked up at him where he sat with not only his own joint but also the new one between his lips. His fingers, with black, scuffed nail polish, held a lit match to the new joint. 

I knew it was for me; he had done it like that before, so I didn't react when he leaned forward and gave it to me. I took it even if I knew I wouldn't smoke it all and took a careful toke. I mostly did it because I was happy seeing him out of his room, and finally was able to be around his strong, mesmerizing aura. 

It only took a few, careful drags before I felt a bit more relaxed and all too brave. Meeting Eric’s eyes, I rested my gaze in the deep, dark ocean of them. I didn't even think about Malek, when I walked up to Eric to sit down between him and the armrest, resting my legs over his. Eric, also affected by the weed, dragged his hand over my wide-legged pants, then crept his hand in to caress my smooth calf. We didn't notice how Malek looked at us until he talked. 

“You have always loved each other.” It wasn't a question, because he obviously knew the answer. I looked at him while he tiredly sucked his joint. Eric looked at him too without saying anything. I removed my legs from his lap because it felt like the only right thing to do. 

“Since you were kids you have always loved each other.” 

Eric and I still didn't say anything, so Malek stubbed out his joint directly on the table and then moved closer to us. My first thought was that he would hit Eric, but his action was nothing I was prepared for. While close to Eric, he laid his hand on his cheek so he would look at him. He leaned in then with closed eyes, and softly he kissed him. Eric looked up, surprised, but when Malek leaned in again, he kissed back with an open mouth. 

I was not prepared for it. I’ve had dreams, or nightmares, about it, but had never thought Malek had it in him. He loved Eric so much, but obviously he did because they continued to kiss while I stared at them. Eric's hand lay on Malek's cheek, while his hand moved down to lay over the eye tattoo on Eric's chest. Malek had never been with a man, but I knew Eric had. So seeing him getting hard in his track pants didn't feel foreign until Malek laid a hand over the erection. Malek took a break to look at Eric; I recognized the look. The look he gave me when he was turned on, but now it was directed to another man, my man. 

“You're just so…” said he and took a deep breath before laughing. 

Eric looked at him doe-eyed with shiny lips. Malek liked it when I gave him an innocent look, but Eric was so much better at it. Even how he pushed away Malek's hand that hid his own erection and letting his fingers drag over his length pressing against the fabric. Malek laughed a little again but then turned his eyes towards me. He smirked teasingly while it felt like I gave him an upset look. 

I was upset, even though I could feel my heartbeat between my legs. He lowered his gaze when Eric's hand crawled inside his pants and took a firm grip around his length. Gay men I’ve known have told me that it was completely different to feel another man's grip than a woman's. I could hear how Malek felt the same. With his pants down by his feet, he let Eric's tattooed hand jerk his slick cock. I looked at them with big eyes, but mostly at Eric, who looked at me. 

My heart beat harder in my chest. Especially when Eric whispered, "Come here.”

I moved closer to him as if I didn't have a choice, but it was all my choice. I always wanted him. Malek gave me a look and lightly pulled at the hem of my pajama pants as I came closer to them. I looked to Eric to see what he wanted, and he just nodded. I slowly took off my clothes while looking at Eric, who pulled down his track pants and boxers. 

He was noticeably bigger than Malek, and I could see how Malek compared them. I wondered for a second if he would feel bad and want to stop. Instead he let out a low, “fuck” under his breath and took it in his hands. 

Eric leaned back against the backrest with his gaze up toward the ceiling. He remained that way, even while I sat between his legs, and even when Malek joined me. The both of us began to do everything to taste him. Only Eric could make a straight couple act like this. We more or less fought to be the one to suck his cock, to drag our hands over his abs and lick his balls. 

The two of us worshipped him like he was our god. 

××× 

You wonder if it was stiff between us after that? Actually, it wasn't. It was like it never had happened. Malek and I went back to being a boring married couple, while Eric went back to sleep all day. I thought about it, though, when I was alone. I wondered if Malek had just had a moment of sudden homosexuality, if he was in love with Eric, or if he just had been attracted to him for years.

I thought about all the guys around Eric, swarming around him like bees around the garden's most beautiful rose. I stood and looked at our rose bush that had started to drop its flowers. Autumn was coming, and I could feel it in my tired soul. I wanted to sleep all day too. 

Dad. I didn't even want to think the thought, but he had also been a bee around Eric. For many, many years. It even started when Eric was a minor. I shook my head in disbelief and disgust. My dad would never, but it was obvious he loved Eric at least as a son, or even more than his real kids. I needed someone to talk to that could understand, or even explain, my confusion. It was something with Eric, something more than I had believed. More than I had wanted to touch. 

××× 

“Hey honey,” answered my dad, quite neutral, even if he spoke so rarely with me. 

“Hey, Dad… What are you doing?” 

“Oh, I'm just putting up some records.” 

The vinyl trend had made my dad's shop flourish again, and it even was mentioned in several music magazines as one of the state's best. That he had Zeno's Paradox signing their records and doing acoustic performances didn't make anything worse.

“What are you doing?” He asked after a while of silence, like he wasn't that interested. 

“I’m about to make dinner… Just came home from work.” 

“Is Eric still in bed?” 

I was used to him being more interested in Eric, so I didn't get upset anymore and especially not now when my call was about just that. 

“Yeah… He eats some crackers every day, that's it, but Dad… This will sound weird, and it's not an accusation; it's just a question.” 

“Okay?” My dad sounded nervous, like he often did, even if he didn't have my mom in his life anymore or any other women either, actually. 

“Why is Eric so special to you? I know why he's so special to me, and you know that too, but why-” 

“Honey, I-” My dad interrupted me. 

“No, Dad. It's not an accusation. It's just a question, as I said.” 

He sighed in my ear, and then he fell quiet, thinking. 

“I guess, I guess, he makes me feel good? He has something drawing me in, something that makes me feel alive. I don't know how to explain it. It's like he has more presence than everyone else.” 

Everything he said I felt too, and probably many other people felt it. 

“Why do you wonder this now?” He asked with careful curiosity. “And I know you know what I’m talking about.” 

I felt pressure over my chest, mostly of embarrassment to share something so private, so wild, with my dad. 

“Ehm… Something happened between us. And Malek.” 

“Oh, a conflict?” 

“No, no…” I laughed awkwardly but then took a deep breath. “Quite the opposite.” 

Once again my dad was quiet, so I understood he knew what I meant, or at least suspected the right thing. He knew Eric had also been with men, but he never put a label on himself, mostly because I was the only person he had been in love with.

“Yes, it is what you think… But I just want to understand how it could happen. How Malek could… Have you had such feelings for—" 

“What? No, no, God no!” He raised his voice, upset. It sounded like the truth, and I knew it was. He had always been an awful liar. 

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, this just confused me so much. How could this happen?” 

He exhaled deeply and made a sound like he realized something. 

“I hoped to never talk about this but… You know Diego?” 

Diego was my dad's friend. They had been friends for a long time, and he had a similar life to my father's, except that he owned his own electric company. 

“Yeah?” 

“Well… We met Eric one night a couple of years ago. Eric was like he usually is, you know, just friendly and sweet, nothing special but… Diego… Diego… Ehm, he got an erection by just looking at him…” 

I didn't mean to make a disgusted sound, but the whole thought made me uncomfortable. 

“Yeah… Eric told me that he actually tried to come onto him when I was in the men's room. I haven't heard from Diego since. You know he has been just a family man, so this is really out of character.” 

“That's really out of character! He's… I was sure he was straight! I haven't even thought of anything else!” 

“I think he thought so too… It's just something special with Eric.” 

“But what? That he makes men gay?” 

“Yeah… Have you ever talked with him? I know how you are, how you think you're always right, so have you ever let him really talk?” 

“Of course I have!” I was offended by his words, mostly because I knew they were true. 

“Even when he says things you don't like? He doesn't talk to me; I think he feels I'm too weak, but you, honey, you're strong. He probably wants to talk to you if you just listen.”

××× 

My dad was right. Eric had shown many times that he wanted to talk to me, but I had rejected him because I was uncomfortable. I knew I did that, but thinking about it, I felt awful because I wasn’t thinking about his feelings. I hadn't wanted to listen because I didn't know how I’d react, even when all he needed was someone to just listen. I could understand now why he now chose loneliness instead of being with me. I hadn't given him that comfort he deserved, that comfort a lover should give. 

I dried away my tears while I sat on mine and Malek's bed. I looked at my phone, checking the time. Malek would probably be home in an hour so I didn't have much time to talk with Eric to understand, but also mend our relationship. What had he tried to tell me when I had rejected him? 

It was hard to go to the guestroom knowing I would need to listen to his stories about death and the pain inside him. I had tried to tell myself it wasn't there, but Eric was sick. Eric had a mental illness that, in periods, took over his life. A mental illness that would some day make him take his own life; he hadn't just succeeded yet. 

I knocked on the door softly before I looked into the room. Eric lay under the burgundy sheets with his back towards me. Even if it was hot and stale in the room, he lay with the cover up to his neck, bundled up. I sighed when I saw him. He really was sick and would always be. 

“Eric?” I said lowly while sitting down on the edge of the bed. I didn't get an answer, so I asked again and shook him lightly. Eric made a tired sound. 

“Are you awake?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Can you turn around so we can talk?” 

Once again he made a tired sound and then sighed. After a while he turned around, but with struggle, like his body weighed tons. I was prepared to see his handsome face, to see big, charismatic eyes, but the gaze that looked at me missed its usual glitter, and his face was not my Eric's. In just days his face had become skinnier and paler. It looked like he had lost 20 pounds since I had really looked at his face. It was the face of a sick man, but it shouldn't happen so fast. It was impossible to lose so much weight in such a short period of time. 

“I think my body is dying…” he whispered after seeing my horrified expression. 

× 

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