Iver’s Sphere Book Two: Marcus & Qiang (Currently Untitled) Chapter 2: Setting The Record Not-So-Straight

Marcus’s POV 

“Darryl is already waiting for you. Tristan has yet to arrive,” Jay–the host of one of the many luxury restaurants that Darryl’s family owns–fills me in as he leads me to our table. 

This place is way too fancy for me. I prefer simpler places. When I was growing up, it was rare for us to afford fast food. Family chain restaurants were considered luxuries back then. I still feel more comfortable in those than in these ritzy places that felt like imaginary places when I was a kid.

After a lucky break that led to my parents' names becoming synonymous with luxury real estate, and my parents utilizing that reputation to the utmost of its potential, my family now has a substantial amount of money, and we live a lifestyle that was practically unheard of when I was younger. I understand what power looks like now, and how much money defines that. I don’t look down on my roots, and I haven’t turned my back on them.  It doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate and utilize what I have now. It just means I don’t take that shit for granted. 

But certain luxuries, I still have a hard time getting used to. Like paying obscene amounts of money for meager portions of food. Fine dining or not, if I’m gonna leave feeling even more hungry than I was when I came, then what’s the point of dropping that much dough? If it weren't for Darryl’s family owning this place and knowing this feels like home to him, I'd probably never step foot in here. 

Darryl’s already sitting at a table toward the back. The lights are dimmer here, and the flickering candles on the table are providing more light than anything else. His eyes flit up to mine, and he sets his glass of Chardonnay back down on the table. 

“I’ll get a glass of Chardonnay for you and a glass of Syrah for Tristan,” Jay says, knowing full well we're all underage, but money and ownership quietly negates that rule. Not that it should; simply that it does.

“Thanks, Jay,” I tell his swiftly retreating back.

“Has Tristan said anything?” Darryl asks. I know he’s as worried as I am that we've hurt Tristan’s feelings.

I shake my head. “No, but you know he won't. He's very much of the mindset that no one owes anyone their sexuality, so he's probably keeping the hurt feelings to himself and berating himself for feeling betrayed that we didn't tell him,” I respond, feeling bad because I know we hurt him, unintentionally so, but still we did, and in a way that he’s hurting himself with blame that he’s hurt over something he feels he has no right to feel hurt over. I get where he’s coming from because on the one hand, he’s right. No one owes anyone their sexuality for any reason. However, we know that we’re brothers and to share with one and not the other, is to alienate in a way that would give Tristan the perfect reason for his overthinking brain to spiral, just as I’m sure he’s doing now. I need to fix it, because he’s my brother in all but blood, and his pain is mine.

“Glass of Chardonnay for you, and Tristan, I've brought a glass of Syrah for you,” Jay says with Tristan right behind him. 

I stand to give Tristan a quick hug while Darryl thanks Jay for bringing the drinks. Darryl reaches over and brushes his knuckles against Tristan’s before we all sit down. 

“Thanks for coming,” Darryl says formally once Tristan is sitting down. I almost want to roll my eyes because up until now, Tristan probably didn’t even think any differently about this meet-up from any other meet-up until Darryl said that. 

Tristan snorts with amusement at that. “Why wouldn't I come?”

Darryl shrugs at that. “Thought you might be mad at us.”

Tristan furrows his brow. “Mad? Why would I be mad?”

I raise an eyebrow at him because I’m not sure if he’s being purposely dense or if he’s really unsure. “The lunch? With Qiang?”

Understanding lights up in Tristan’s eyes. “Oh, you mean when you popped a chub for Qiang?”

I snort at that. “I can't believe you just said that shit out loud.”

Tristan laughs. “I’m ace, dude. Not a prude,” he points out. 

“Fair enough, but until you figured out you were ace, things like that made you uncomfortable,” Darryl points out.  

Tristan takes a sip of his wine. “It wasn’t so much because I had issues with that kind of stuff; it was more because they were reminders that I was off-kilter from everyone else. Just because I wasn’t interested in people or sex didn’t mean I wasn’t aware that I probably should have been more than I was, or that there was an obvious difference in the way I thought compared to how most people around me thought. Now that I get why, the innuendos and stuff don’t really bug me anymore. And I'm not mad about you thinking Qiang is hot. Maybe a little worried, I guess, that it'll mess with the vibes of the house if that becomes a thing. But as long as no one gets hurt, then it's not really my business.”  

Darryl clears his throat. “I think Marcus–and me, too–are more worried you're upset because it became really obvious, really fast, that neither of us are straight and we had failed to clue you in on that.”

Tristan shrugs, and anyone who doesn’t know him would be completely fooled by his unaffected attitude. But I know him, and I know the stiffened hold of his shoulders and the firm set of his jaws, and even the slightly guarded expression in his eyes are all part of a shield he has on right now. 

“Neither of you owes your sexuality to me or anyone else,” he says, and I know his shield right now is our doing, but I’m not used to him having one up around us, and it’s rankling my nerves. 

“Tristan, drop the armor, man. I know you really believe that, but there's no way the revelation that we knew about each other but never filled you in hurt. I get that you know we don’t owe you an explanation, but you are also human and allowed to have feelings,” I point out, wanting him to open up. 

Tristan stares at his glass, and I’m not sure what’s going on in his head, but after several moments pass, the shield cracks and he lets out a heavy sigh. 

“I know it’s not fair on my part. I mean, really, it’s–I guess, I just thought–” he stumbles over his words before taking a deep breath and trying again. “It's not my place to expect you to have told me, but it was a bit–” he lets out another sigh. 

He’s used to being cold and aloof, and we are rarely ever on the outs, even though we aren’t really on the outs, but it’s rare for there to be misunderstandings between us. “Yeah, it hurt. It was obvious you trusted each other, but didn't trust me. Even when going through my stuff and talking to you guys while figuring everything out, you didn't trust me the same. And it's not that I feel like you needed to, or even had to, just that I'm not sure what I did to have lost that trust, or when I may have lost that, or even if I’d ever even had it. I thought we were equal brothers, and now I feel a bit jostled to the side. But then I also feel really fucking selfish and wrong for feeling that way because–”

“You're a really strong advocate and believe that if we had reasons to hold it from you, then that's our business, not yours,” I interrupt him because listening to him struggle hurts more than I expected it to.

He lets out another really heavy breath and fixes his eyes on his glass instead of looking up. “Yeah,” he breathes out simply. 

“You’re our brother, you’ve always had that trust and still do, Tristan. We didn't have reasons to keep it from you,” I reassure him. 

Darryl clears his throat and leans into the table. “It's just you were always so uncomfortable around the sex stuff, and we kind of started to keep a lid on it. You knew it happened, but we didn't really show that side of ourselves around you as much. A lot of our trysts happen at parties and stuff, which you don't really go to very often, so you wouldn't have seen that as much. Or the few parties you did go to, you didn't really recognize flirting even when it was pretty blatant. So, it wasn't so much hiding it as you just didn't see it before.”

“But we should have taken the time to tell you when we realized we were attracted to multiple genders. It's just so normalized in our families, well, yours and mine anyway, that I don't think it dawned on us to say anything,” I add in. 

Darryl nods his head emphatically. “Exactly, it never had anything to do with not trusting you, man. Kind of feeling like a tool right now because, in hindsight, we should have. We're brothers, we don't keep shit from each other, especially something big like this. It wasn't intentional.” 

A ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of Tristan’s mouth. “You guys really don't owe me an explanation,” he reiterates, but I can tell by the amount of tension leaving his body that we really needed to have this talk. 

“We really do, man, because it had fuck all to do with keeping secrets or not trusting you or even being uncomfortable with our sexuality. It was literally just a huge oversight because we are so much in the habit of keeping the sexual stuff muted down in front of you. I get that people don’t owe their sexuality to anyone, but this isn’t really about that. We weren’t keeping it from you; it just hadn’t come up, even though there’d been ample opportunity, while you were going through your grey-awakening, or whatever, it’s still something that wasn’t being kept from you, just something we simply hadn’t said. And there was literally no reason why we hadn’t said it, which is why we needed to clear the air,” I reiterate.

Tristan swallows hard before nodding his head. He reaches up and pinches his temples, probably to get his emotions under control before looking back up at us. “Okay, so since the sex stuff doesn't bother me as much as it used to…” he trails off, and I know what he's trying to ask without asking.

“I'm bisexual, or maybe omnisexual. Not really sure. Haven’t really put that much thought into it. I just know that I’m pretty attracted to everything,” I tell him. 

“I'm bi,” Darryl says simply. “And for full disclosure or whatever, we've been together,” he says, pointing between the two of us. “But not like in a relationship or even ‘just us’ together, but like multiple bodies together, but not one-on-one because–orgies are fun–but we aren't into each other enough for one-on-one stuff. Kind of weird to think about, but group sex is awesome, so–” he trails off. 

“Well, for us. I can see how that would definitely not be your thing,” I add in, noticing Tristan’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline at the admission that we’ve been in the same orgies, even if it hasn’t been between us, or whatever. 

“But it's our thing, or well, one of our things, and kind of how we figured out we were into multiple genders, but as I said, it’s afterparty scenes and stuff that you usually didn't go to, so–” Darryl sums up. 

Tristan nods. “Yeah, I get it. And knowing all that makes me feel like I made the right choice to not go to them very often,” he laughs, and I’m glad he’s getting his sense of humor back a bit.  

“Definitely not your scene,” I laugh with him.

“Definitely not. But I'm glad to know about you guys, though. Maybe not the orgies, but that's a me thing,” he says lightly.  

“So, we cool?” Darryl asks. 

Tristan nods. “Yeah, we're cool.”

“Just want to reiterate that we’re sorry, man. We didn't mean to negate you or leave you out,” I say for probably the hundredth time, but I really kind of feel like a shit. 

Tristan huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I get it. It's cool. And even if it wasn't, I still would have found a way to be cool about it.”

“We know that, but we needed you to know that we’re the same brothers that we've always been. We can just let things become a habit sometimes and forget that there are feelings attached that we took for granted,” I tell him. 

Tristan nods and then looks up and smiles. “So… Qiang?” he asks, and I know the important part of the discussion is over, but I also knew there was no way we could have that one and not have it come back around to this one. 

“No. I mean, yeah, they're hot–” I start to say, but Darryl cuts me off to add, “like really fucking hot–” and I kind of want to punch him. Don’t know why I care that much about Darryl definitely checking Qiang out so much. I’ve never really cared about that shit before. Hell, most of the time we both landed on the same person, we ended up sharing. But this feels different. I don’t want to share. And even though I’m resolved on not partaking at all, I still don’t like the idea of anyone else partaking either, which is totally selfish and nonsensical and obviously something I’m gonna have to get over. 

I let out an annoyed sigh. I need to get this infatuation or whatever this is, out of my head. “I’m a one-and-done, and as fucking amazing as I imagine sleeping with Qiang would be, it would also be opening a can of worms that has pain and drama written all over it. Not because of Qiang personally. But because they’re a roommate, and your boyfriend's sibling, and they're too closely woven into the group to get into all of that. So no.”

Darryl snorts at that. “We’ll see,” he says in a voice that leaves no room to misinterpret that he thinks I’m talking out of my ass.

“What?” I challenge. 

Darryl just shrugs. “It’s just I’ve been partying with you and fucking around with the people you fuck around with for years. What happened at that lunch was something new. You may have good intentions and think you've got sound logic under control, but I think Qiang is going to be a force you'll have less control over than you think,” he points out. 

I let out a sigh and shake my head. Luckily, for everyone’s sake, Qiang and I are very obviously on the same line of thinking that this absolutely should not happen. “Maybe so, but Qiang is onto me and is no more appreciative of my admiration than they were of yours.” 

Darryl gives me a skeptical look. “Maybe not, but I saw them looking back at you. They might have a firm hand on logic, too, but their eyes were definitely taking in their fill of you.”

“Regardless, it can't happen,” I tell him sternly, fully ignoring the butterflies that took flight at his observation. “Tristan, tell him,” I add, hoping for backup. 

Instead of getting that backup, Tristan just kind of shrugs instead. “It's not my thing to be that way. I don't want anything to come between us or bad blood or anything. And I sure as hell don’t want you, Qi, or Qiang hurt, but if there’s a spark, then I think it’s inherently cruel to tell you to deny it just for the sake of my comfort,” he says, and I should have known that would be his stance because it’s such a fucking Tristan thing to say.  

“You realize that doesn’t help my resolve at all, right?” I huff out. 

Tristan smiles at me. “Maybe not, but I'm just as much your brother as I am Qi's boyfriend. I'll move heaven and earth to protect you from pain and celebrate your happiness. I believe if it's meant to be, it’ll be, but I also know Qiang is highly unlikely to give in to whatever attraction they may feel for you, so it’s probably all moot anyway,” he says. 

And he’s probably right. He knows the details of Qiang’s trauma. I don’t. I only know that there were football jocks involved and that they’ve got a bad taste in their mouth because of it. 

“That’s probably best. Disquieting the house for a lay is ridiculous. There's nothing there that I can't get somewhere else without the drama or the extra effort,” I say out loud, knowing it’s completely sound logic, and trying like fuck to ignore the sour twist in my stomach as I say it. 

Darryl snorts again. “Keep telling yourself that, bro,” he says, and it pisses me off that they know me so well. 

Tristan reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry too much on it, bro. Between college football and classes, we’re about to get a hell of a lot busier than we’re used to and it’ll be easier to tune all this out,” he says reassuringly with a squeeze, and out of everything going on, that’s the most reassuring thing I could have heard. 

I just have to get through the summer, and then obligations will pick back up. Time will get consumed. The frat parties and afterparties will run rampant, and I’ll have an entirely new playing field to pick from. Everything is gonna be just fine. We can all live happily together, I’ll get over this crush or whatever the fuck it is, and go back to my normally scheduled programming in a few weeks.