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he sits, he sighs, he stares. he stops stalling the seriously settled situation and sees, sitting sadly, me. okay, alliteration isn't that fun when there's no good synonyms for inevitable. inexorable is a good synonym for that, however, i must inform myself that it does not begin with an s.
so
sean
sits.
he looks up at me through his bangs with that expectant look. god i hate that look. stop being so omnipotent, you beautiful bastard. haha, alliteration. either way, i'm trapped, guffawing in this gorgeous green gap stoppers’ generously, yet glorious, gay glance.
sorry.
it's like he’s trying to dig deep in my soul. he's trying to kill me. that’s it. but really, couldn't it have waited until tomorrow? it’s fucking christmas. he’ll break the news that he doesn't and can't reciprocate my feelings and i'm gonna have to leave the state and get a job and a fucking life. it’ll be great! he starts talking while i'm struggling between my future home being with a whole group of 12 frat boys in a 3 bedroom apartment, or a one bedroom apartment next to a sewage processing plant that constantly smells like feces and sewage.
“chris, i know why you’ve been avoiding everyone lately.” i crack a smile, but my stomach is performing a contortionist’s act to a group of panicking organs. i glance around my nasty little bedroom, and decide i'll just fall back on my bed so i don't have to look at his stupid, pretty little puppy dog eyes. i stare at a spot of water damage on my ceiling, “of course you do, man. it’s destroy dick december. i’m completing the ultimate challenge this year.” i say this pretty flatly. i feel like if i laugh, or put in an effort, ill vomit all over him, and myself. maybe that’s not such a bad idea? he’ll leave, and i'll be busy showering and cleaning my sheets and floor for the next few hours. he looks back at me, a weak smile on his face. c’mon man, you can smile better than that. i’ve seen you do it. your smile always puts me in such a good mood, can’t you just show me this once? no, apparently not. soon as he starts talking again, the smile is gone. he throws his leg up on my bed, so he’s still half off but facing me. “no, dumbass. i know that i’m the reason why.” i groan, “do we really have to talk about this? i mean, we could totally just… leave it be, y’know? i’ve been fine for what, a year now? almost two?” sean sighs. he throws a hand through his hair, and looks down at the ground. he furrows his brow, “chris. would you just shut up a minute? stop hating yourself for 10 minutes so i can tell you what’s up, okay? don’t interject, either, you dumbass.” i sit up, slowly, with an effort. god i’ve been weak for a while. depression can really fuck you up man.
“okay?”
“yeah, alright. what’s up?”
“i’ve been talking with aedan about all this.”
i open my mouth to speak, tell him he doesn’t have to let me know aedan hates me as much as i hate myself, but he shuts me up real easy.
“don’t you go there, bitch. don’t even do it.”
i laugh hollowly at the little finger he throws up onto my forehead.
“i’ve known about this since you drank yourself silly a few weeks ago. lucius called me, he asked me where i was, and if you were alright, and obviously you weren’t with me. he hung up as soon as i said that, with no explanation. i called him 5 times that night, and 3 times in the morning. i was worried as hell. i ended up just coming here when i knew you'd be asleep and he’d be awake, and i asked him where you were and why you said you were with me.” he shakes his head and picks his fist up, dropping it back on my knee, hesitantly when he speaks up again, “he told me you're in love with me, chris. that you’ve been half killing yourself over it.” he’s looking at the fist on my knee, im looking at him. he looks choked up. i really don’t want him to cry, but i don’t want to give him a hug because he said not to interrupt him.
he sucks in a shaky breath. he looks up at me. fuck. god fuck. fucking fucking-
god.
“chris, i know im engaged and all, but i talked to aedan about all this. we had a long, long talk, a few arguments, but we finally came to a conclusion i think we all can settle on, okay?”
i nod.
he’s about to cry.
i’ve seen this before.
so, so many times.
his first boyfriend. his 3rd sleepover. his 1st broken arm. broken toes, broken fingers. his first fight. our first fight.
his fist spreads into a palm, still on his knee. sean looks back down at it.
“i didn’t want to cause you this much pain. if i’d’ve known… nothing would’ve been this way. i'm so, so sorry chris,” and with that, he lets it go. i scoop him up, sean’s practically on my lap, and i do what i know calms him down. my mouth on his hair, my hand on the nape of his neck, scratching the baby hairs there gently. he cries into my shirt. i tell him it’s not his fault, because it isn’t. he shouldn’t be crying, but i don’t tell him that because he’ll get angry and stubborn and argue. i just let him cry. he grabs at my shirt, he buries his face in my neck, he curls into me. “i'm sorry,” i say. i repeat it. i repeat it until he stops crying. i keep going. i tell him why i’m sorry. “i'm sorry i couldn't keep my feelings to myself. i’m sorry i couldn’t just be a friend. i’m sorry i made you feel this way.”
he kisses me. he… kisses me? he’s kissing me. his lips are on my face. i kiss back, desperate, wanton, my heart thinking in place of my brain. for a few seconds, it’s bliss. i lighten up. the weight on my chest flies. my hands are on his face. in his hair.
shit, wait.
fuck.
brain? brain can go die.
a painful realization strikes me, and i push him off. as much as it hurts. as much as i want to kiss him. he hurts. i hurt. it hurts. it hurts more than i want it to. i don’t want to hurt. not anymore. i just… can’t hurt. i want to keep.. kissing him. i want to cry. i want to get this ache to go away. he’s my only medicine yet he’s so far away.
“sean, you’re engaged. i’m not going to do this.”
the sentence almost gets caught in my throat. i want to scream. i want to kiss him again. i want this to be a dream. i want it to be a reality. he hurts. i hurt. we both hurt.
“chris.”
i look up at him, but i’m conflicted. there’s a war. in my chest, in my brain, in my heart. it’s a civil war, however, i’m my own worst enemy.
he moves back in.
“have you ever heard of a poly relationship?”