Into My Recluse Heart (MxM)

The thing about me is, it’s not that I’m anti-social, I just don’t do people. I hate going out in public, I hate being around people and having to fake emotions, interest, and whatnot. I’m an introvert.

I spend my days in my apartment. I work as a freelance photo editor, so I work from home. I do all my communications online – or over the phone, which I dislike, so it’s mostly online. Sometimes I’ll go see a friend or family member. I don’t let people into my bubble.

I order groceries online, I order takeout seldom, I have gym equipment in one room, my apartment is equipped with a washer and dryer like all the apartments here are. This isn’t a luxury building, like for rich people, but it isn’t cheap and the landlord takes care of all his properties. So it’s the next best thing, because this place, one might think it was high class, even if it remains simplistic.

If I need fresh air, I wait till the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep and I know the streets will be devoid of human interaction, and then I go for a walk.

I’m fine on my own, better than I was before.

I’ve been single for over a year now. It’s not that I don’t crave intimacy, but I fear it too. Thanks, ex, for that.

He was a domineering man who was into BDSM, except with a nuance I hadn’t caught onto until it was too late. He was an abusive narcissist, who blamed all his emotional manipulations and mistreatments of me on the whole Dom-Sub dynamic. He’d been so charming at first, I was blinded to it until he had completely broken me.

Me, a masculine gay man, reduced to a whimpering submissive in a matter of months – and when I say whimpering, I mean out of fear, with tears and on my knees, begging not to be punished or cast aside, begging for forgiveness for having had the audacity to utter my request for affection. And I was so brainwashed that I believed I deserved it and thought I’d die if he left me.

I’ve seen other Doms with their Subs. Their dynamic was not what I knew it to be. Theirs was one of mutual respect. My ex had even punished me for inquiring with another gay Dom-Sub couple about how they did things. Now I know it was because he didn’t want me to discover the truth that he was breaking all the rules just to control me.

I’ll never go back to that kind of life, it was too intense socially too. But I hate that he created such a stigma for me towards it because now I just see other Doms as evil abusers. Even though I know they are not.

I was even more of a recluse now all thanks to him. Because I was still afraid, after more than a year, that I might run into him out there. So here I was, a 33-year-old gay man, a hermit.

Whatever.

An enthusiastic knock at my door broke my concentration from my work, just as I was about to figure out the secondary colour on my vector for my client.

I sighed gutturally. I hated it when my concentration was broken like that.

‘What?’ I barked at the closed door.

My makeshift office was in my living room because my spare room was my gym room. I had my laptop on a desk that stood next to my couch and a long coffee table in front of the window, facing away from it, so I would not see any traffic below from the third floor that I was on.

‘Uh, hi. I’m Axel, your neighbour from right across the hall,’ the sunny voice from the other side of the door announced cheerfully.

‘Hi?’

‘Some of us are organising a bake sale with others from the block for an LGBTQ event,’ Axel went on.

‘Good for you,’ I called out, rolling my eyes.

What did baking have to do with me? No one in this building ever talked to me because I never showed my face. Only a few of them had even seen me when I brought out my garbage and recycling at night. Most left me alone, probably because I had a permanent glare on my face. Others just smiled mildly or said a small hi. I never answered them or reciprocated their smiles. The more they thought I was unapproachable, the better.

‘I’m the team lead for the gay men of our block in this event. Libby is the team lead for the lesbians. Charles and Vicky, a couple, the bis…’

Axel prattled on listing more names.

‘Each team gets to have others of their letter baking with them, and all proceeds will be going to an LGBTQ youth charity.’

‘Again, good for you,’ I growled.

‘Allies are also welcome to participate – the team leads for the allies are Cole and Delilah – which is why we’re asking everyone in the block if they want to take part, whether to represent their queer faction or as an ally.’

‘Queer faction?’ I muttered to myself. I called out, ‘Is this a contest?’

‘Sort of. Whichever team raises the most gets to host another event in the future.’

‘Yeah, sorry, count me out.’

‘So, you don’t want to bake with us?’ Axel asked tentatively.

‘No!’ I barked. ‘I don’t bake. Now go. Leave me alone.’ I huffed.

‘All right, geez, I was just trying to be friendly.’

I heard him shuffling away.

I sighed. Why did he have to sound so dejected?

After contemplating the guilty feeling simmering inside my chest, I rose from my seat and walked over to my door and opened it in one swift swing. But he was already gone and probably back in his apartment. I sighed gutturally.

Despite my better judgement, I walked the many steps across the long corridor to his door. The apartment across, he’s said. I knocked, waited a bit. Nothing.

‘Hey, Axel, look. I uh…I’m working and you broke my focus. I get really grumpy when I lose my concentration. So…sorry?’ No, that wasn’t right. ‘Sorry, that apology sounded canned. Listen, I don’t do social gatherings, okay? I hate human interaction. I just…look, if you need any monetary contribution for ingredients, I’ll be happy to contribute, but just count me out of any baking or showing my face anywhere.’

I leaned against the door through which I was calling out. If Axel was hearing me or just choosing not to say anything back, it didn’t matter. The less he wanted to talk to me the better.

‘Again, sorry for the way I shouted out at you. You didn’t deserve that.’

The submissive side of me was coming out. It’s not that I wanted to be a dominant guy, I just wanted to not let people walk all over me, and the best way to do that was to avoid people.

‘I hope our team wins,’ I finally called out to conclude. Then I walked back the long corridor to my door and shut it.

I leaned against it, letting out a breath. I’d just confirmed that I, too, was gay. For Christ’s sake, I didn’t want to be bothered! Why didn’t I just let him think I was a bigot or something? I’d be sure to be left alone if I’d done that.

‘He has a nice voice,’ I muttered to myself.

Nope. Focus.

I returned to my desk and my vector. Brush strokes, colour hexes – my mind was in the zone again.

I didn’t hear from Axel again in the following days. That was probably for the best. We were both probably better off out of each other’s lives and with things going back to how they’d been the past year I’d lived here – me staying recluse and no one interacting with me or wanting to have anything to do with me because I didn’t want to have anything to do with them.

The weekend went by and I found myself wondering if the bake sale was going well.

‘What the fuck?’ Why the hell would I wonder that? No, who cares! I had work to do.

Sunday morning I heard shuffling at my door. I ignored it, and then everything in the hall grew quiet again.

My curiosity got the better of me.

I opened my door, only to find a small plastic snap-lid container on the floor by my door. I bent to take it. There were muffins inside, three of them. And a note.

My heart did something when I saw the note.

Nice handwriting, I thought.

What the fuck? No.

I banished the small flutter I felt in my heart at the sight of it.

Our team won! Thought you might like some muffins. I made them. Rum and raisin. Enjoy! Signed: Axel.

I scowled. That was actually very thoughtful of him. But I hadn’t done anything to help. I felt kind of guilty.

Kicking my door closed, I opened the container and smelt the muffins. Oh, that was so divine, my mouth was already watering. I took a bite from one and immediately let out an elated sigh as my eyes fluttered closed. I felt like I was biting into heaven itself. And I wondered, if Axel’s muffins taste this good, what does he taste like?

What the fuck, Dante? Stop that. You’re a recluse. A hermit. Behave.

I devoured those muffins, grabbing every little crumb that fell back into the container, which I held beneath my chin as I ate.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked, or baked, for me who wasn’t my mom. Jasper never cooked for me, he always ordered in or took me to some lavish restaurant to show off his control over his Sub.

I’d always look over at the other couples present, some of them looked so happy, the Subs spoke a certain way at times, but their Doms always ensured they were well taken care of, spoke of rewards, spoke of promises, reassured them. One of them, I’d even overheard, reminded his new female Sub about their secret safe word. I’d had to ask what a safe word was – I didn’t have one. Go figure. Because my relationship wasn’t safe, it wasn’t a real Dom-Sub dynamic, but a fake one to mask a sadist’s fucked up urges.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about that – or him. I wanted to think about Axel, and the muffins that were no more but had somehow brought me so much joy.

I took a small post-it and scribbled on it.

I don’t know what I did to deserve these delicious muffins. How can I thank you properly?

I stuck it on the inside of the snap-lid and I walked across the hall that suddenly seemed even longer, only because I was eager to reach the door at the other end. I knocked and waited. When nothing happened, I left the container by the door on the floor, like he had for me, and then returned to my apartment.

I shut the door and leaned my back against it, my head tilting back. What was happening?