Title: What Now?
By: BflyW
Summary: A little story of how relationships may sometimes be.
Note: Much love to Serenity for beta!
Characters: Nick, Greg
Rating: G
Warnings: none

I don't know what to do anymore. I love him, don't I? We have a good relationship, don't we? I mean, I'm not unhappy, he doesn't do me harm. I'm just not… happy, well… not too happy anyway. Why do I feel so miserable? Why am I wondering whether or not this is right?

He's here. Every morning after end of shift he locks himself into our apartment. Every morning he goes through the same procedure as he always does; he makes himself a sandwich, a smoothie and then checks his email and maybe surfs the net some. He usually turns on the TV and turns now and then to check what's on the screen, usually something we have TiVo'ed.

Instead of seeing a handsome, sexy hunk of a man, I let myself get annoyed by his open mouth while chewing. Disgusting, I hate it. And the sounds he makes. Smacking his tongue to magnify his taste sensation, he says. I can't help but picture those half eaten pieces of food when he leans down to kiss me smelling of mayo and pickles. I hate pickles. I don't know how he can even eat that. I think I hate pickles just as much as he hates peanut butter. I love peanut butter; I eat it every morning, just when he eats his pickles. I used to get up and brush my teeth after eating my peanut butter and jam, I don't anymore. I don't bother. I can do without the kiss. He doesn't lean in that often anymore, and if he does, we usually do the closed mouth kiss, to avoid those nasty smells.

I used to jump him the minute he walked in the door, then I downsized to greeting him with a kiss, waiting for him to kiss me, and now we just throw a “Hey" to each other. We even used to wait for each other at work in the beginning, helping each other finish so we could go home together. Now we hardly ever leave at the same time.

We leave the house at the same time though, usually after sitting in our own separate corners of the office, surfing the net and doing the chatting and emailing we do to our friends. I think I actually talk to my online friends more than I do him.

I sleep next him in bed though, not my online friends. It's just that, I sleep next to him, not with him. I hate how he throws his legs out and steals more than his share of the bed. I feel smothered. I need air. I need space around me when I sleep, I don't need someone to invade my personal space during the night, that's when I need to be just me.

I used to snuggle up to him at night. I used to tangle my legs with his, and we would fall asleep in each others arms, sticky with cum from our love. We used to make love every day. We would start by kissing. Kissing and groping, and touching each other. After a while one would remove the briefs of the other and concentrate on the others hard on, that's how we decided who was in the driver's seat. We would alternate. Sometimes he would be on the receiving end, sometimes it would be me, but we would always agree without a word. And we would be too exhausted to clean up afterwards. So many nights we fell asleep only to wake up stuck together. That led us to always have a box of wet tissues by the bed.

Now we would be lucky if we did it once a month. Actually, I think it's been more than a month now. He wanted to, two, no three weeks ago, but I wasn't in the mood. I had TiVo'ed a program and I had been waiting all shift to watch it. I wasn't in the mood to wait any longer. So I watched TV, he fell asleep. We haven't mentioned it since.

I look at him, and I think; don't I love him anymore? Is this how it should be? Is this what it is all about? This man, I look at him and just see. I see, but I don't feel. My heart doesn't run wild when I see him. My knees don't go weak whenever he kisses me or touches me. I don't get hard when I see him walk towards me, but I am proud when I am introduced as his boyfriend. So I must think highly of him still.

What am I to do?

Should I stay in this relationship, this partnership that is comfortable, or should I break out because there's not enough passion? Should I stay, because as far as I know, this is the best, better than being alone. After all, we don't hurt each other. We are rather comfortable with each other, and I don't mind living with him. Is it fair to him? Should I go now, in case further down the line I run into “the one, he who can get my heart to run wild again?" But didn't he used to be the one? Wasn't I all crazy about him in the beginning? Didn't we used to make love for hours and hours on end?

What about all of those who rant over and over about their spouses, how much they irritate them, how much they want to slap them and kick their ass, but how they can't live without them? Can I live without him?

I think I can. I can live without Nick. I would hate it, but I can.

What I can't do is let him go, let us go, without making the effort to make us better.

So I walk into the bathroom. I brush my teeth, and wash my armpits before throwing on some new deodorant. I even change my boxer briefs to the white pair that hugs my ass in just the right spots. And then I walk over to him in the living room. He looks at me from in front of his computer, opens his mouth in a question, showing off a generous amount of mayo and a large piece of pickles. And I lean down to kiss him. Right on his lips: open mouthed. With my free hand, the one that doesn't pull his head closer to me, I grab his sandwich and put it down on his desk.

"Come on, Love." I say and lead him by his hand to our bedroom. I'm ready to sleep with him tonight.