Charlie

I’d never told anyone everything that happened in my relationship with Ben, partly because Ben insisted on keeping us so secret. I’d even kept things about us from Geoff, my therapist, he won’t be happy about that when I next see him.

I didn’t really know where best to start, I suppose the beginning might have made sense but instead I felt the need to stop hearing that name by correcting Nick.

“My name isn’t Mr Hope-Spring,” maybe that wasn’t the best way to word that as Nick now appeared concerned like I was some crazy person that had taken someone else’s booking. I quickly rushed to say, “I mean, I was supposed to be Mr Hope-Spring, this was supposed to be our honeymoon, but we didn’t get as far as getting married, so I’m just Charlie Spring.” His face relaxed but settled into looking sorry for me. I suppose I should have expected that.

“Sorry, I’m not being very clear.”

“You say sorry a lot.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” Nick replied with a small smile.

“I kinda want to say it again,” I smiled back.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“Ok,”

Ben and I first met at Truham secondary school for boys. I was in the music room playing the drums, I’d found it a great way to work out some of my negative emotions after I’d been bullied at school after being accidentally outed the year before. Ben came in one lunch time and squeezed himself onto the small drum stool with me. He put his hand on my knee and told me how brave I was for ‘coming out’ the year before, as if my life hadn’t been made a living hell by the other boys after someone overheard my best friend Tao talking about me being gay. Maybe he didn’t know about the bullying, but I don’t see how he could have missed it, I was the talk of Truham that year until one of the teachers finally found out.

Ben kissed me for the first time in that music room, it was the first time I’d ever kissed anyone but especially a boy. It felt like that little emoji with all the hearts around it 🥰. A boy liked me, and he wanted to kiss me, I felt like I was walking on cloud nine. He told me not to tell anyone, and at the time I thought nothing more of it. I knew from first hand experience what it was like to be forced out before you were ready, so I understood. This went on for a few weeks, he’d find me in the music room, and we’d spend the time kissing. He’d leave quickly each time the bell went for next lessons, reminding me to not tell anyone about us.

At some point it progressed to us meeting up before and after school in the library, thinking back now I guess he chose that because he knew it would be empty. We never told anyone else at Truham about us the whole time we were there. We carried on the same way for the rest of that year, never really doing anything besides kissing. Over that first summer, he would get me to meet him in some really strange places, places he knew wouldn’t be seen. He never wanted to come over my house, and we never went to his either, even if we knew our parents weren’t going to be home.

Once we returned to school, me for Year 11 and him for his first year of Sixth Form, he started wanting more than kissing. He would start telling me that ‘all his friends were doing it’ and that it was ‘no big deal’. When I tried to say I wasn’t ready for that on way occasion in a corridor after school, he’d thrown me hard against the wall, gripped my wrists together tightly in one hand and started trying to reach inside my trousers. He only stopped when he’d heard someone coming down the corridor. I stayed off school for a few days after that, I didn’t want anyone to see the bruises he’d left on my wrists.

He text me a few times after, saying he was sorry, saying he didn’t mean to and that he was just so turned on by me. I tried to ignore his messages, he hated that. He got really angry with me and his texts getting progressively more aggressive. When I got back to the school, I thought he was an odd mix of apologetic and aggressive. He was saying he was sorry for what he did, but at the same time he was kissing me as hard as he could, almost like he was trying to lay claim to me.

I wish I could say that was the only time Ben had got physical with me. While Ben was still at Truham he continued to insist we didn’t tell anyone about us. This was also when I found out that Ben was the jealous type. A boy in the same year as Ben was starting flirting with me in school, and Ben saw. When we met up later on, he got really mad at me, he broke my arm and it was in plaster for weeks.

“I should have left at that point, any normal person would have left at that point,” the tears had started to fall again.

Nick reached out and placed his hand on mine, “It’s ok, you don’t have to go on, if you don’t want to,” his face didn’t show signs of pity, just care.

I sniffed, “No, it’s ok, I need to tell someone,”

Things got a little easier when Ben finished sixth form, I still had one more year left at Truham before I would go to university and Ben decided to take a gap year so that we could be together at university. He convinced me it would be easier for us to be together if we were away from the pressures of our families and friends. That we could be together properly without worrying about anyone finding out. I’d given up long ago of trying to get him to come out so the thought that we could properly be together made me feel so special. Made it feel like everything we’d been through was finally going to be worth it.

With Ben not being at school every day meant I was able to relax a lot more, I didn’t need to worry about him getting jealous of me just talking to other boys at school. Ben would still text me every day when I was at school, looking back I wonder if that was him just checking up on me. But we didn’t really see each other during that year. By the time I graduated from Truham and we were preparing to go off to Durham University together. He’d been accepted following his results the year before, so I had made my first choice too.

Ben’s parents paid for a flat for him, it was small but big enough for the two of us. Of course, they didn’t know I was staying there, it was just convenient for him to keep me close. It was once we were  living together that I finally felt ready to take our relationship further. I’d always pictured my first time to be with someone who would take care of me, make me feel like I was the most important guy in the world and then hold me close to them after while enjoying gentle, slow kisses. You could describe Ben’s, ‘style’, as the opposite of that. He wasn’t gentle, he didn’t really care, it was all about getting him off. Once he’d cum, he’d pull out and jump in the shower. He never cared if I enjoyed it, or if I got off too.

When we were out and about on campus, he still didn’t really treat me like his boyfriend. Sure, unlike at Truham he had no problem talking to me in front of others, people knew we lived together so I guess it would have been weird if he didn’t talk to me. But he never wanted to hold hands or kiss me in front of his friends. He’d introduce me as his roommate or ‘the guy he lived with’, then when we’d get home he’d apologise and melt me with kisses so that I wouldn’t want to leave him.

Finally, after 3 years at university, I assumed we’d move back to our parents, and he wouldn’t want anything more to do with me. I was prepared for that, really, I knew he still wasn’t out to his parents, and I didn’t think that was likely to change any time soon. But as we were getting ready in our suits for graduation day, he turned to me, and I asked me if I wanted to get married. It was so, unexpected that I said yes. I was so happy that he wanted to be with me. He got a job working at his dad’s firm in London and got a flat near there for the two of us. That was 6 months ago.

I paused to compose myself. Nick just waited patiently, letting me take the time I needed. I took a deep breath before I continued.