Fake. A drabble that's vague in meaning and plot, I'm just experimenting. Vague mentions of het, but nothing scary.

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Chester has a wife, which should count for a lot more than it actually does. Talinda is nice. She is pretty and kind. Her hair is fake, but that's okay. At least her breasts are her own.

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Talinda wanted the house, so Chester brought the house. Talinda likes flowers, so Chester buys bunches and bunches. White lilies stand proud and taut in the hallway, bursts of sunshine chrysanthemums lay on the kitchen table. Once, he brought red roses for the bedroom, but she wasn't impressed. She sliced the buds of, left the thorny stalks crumpled under the sheets. The cuts and scratches marked them for weeks.

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Mike pulls at his hips, fiddles with the buttons; the belt. Chester doesn't even look. It all feels the same; Talinda, Mike. They're interchangeable, and Chester thinks he should be more concerned about this than he actually is.

As Mike blows him, Chester stares ahead. He looks at the large painting above Mike's couch, a copy of Guernica. Chester likes this picture; all the sorrow and death and war. It's cluttered; filled with disease, but smooth, sharp and grey, too. It makes him scoff, which makes Mike suck harder, his mouth feeling wetter around Chester's dick. He tightens his grip in Mike's hair.

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Chester feels like a stranger in his own bed. It smells of her shampoo, her perfume; floral and sweet. It's not what Samantha would've worn, but Talinda is his wife; his new wife and that's okay. She loves him, that's enough. And even now, as she fixes the flowers, cutting the stems on the diagonal, tipping an aspirin into the water-filled vase, Chester knows nothing will change. Talinda and Mike, they'll lay on their backs and Chester will come to them, individually but never fully involved. He'll breath in the scent of ripe, overpowering flowers in his own home, stare at the artwork in Mike's and he'll come unsatisfied but sated by both of them. He's not happy but he's not unhappy. Talinda is his wife, Mike is his bandmate. He is the singer, the star of his own life; time is ticking, the camera is rolling but there is no milestone to reach, no excitement to be had.