The things that we don't say.

“Are you sure you want this?” Ryan asked, whispering in my ear and then resuming sucking on the sensitive spot on my neck.

“I’m sure. I love you.” I finally got out following a soft moan through my lips. We were lying on the bed in an unclothed mess, with him hovering over me on his elbows. He left his position over me, before he reached to get some lube for us. He squeezed it onto his fingers and gently pushed one inside of me. It felt uncomfortable, but I couldn’t yet feel any pain so I nodded, indicating for him to add another one. This time, it felt more than uncomfortable. It hurt. I winced and squeezed my eyes shut and waited a while before I gave the sign for him to go ahead with the third and final finger. This time I involuntarily arched my back a little from the increased pain, but soon recovered.

“Babe, are you sure? I don’t want to rush you.” He asked me again, and again I nodded. I wanted this more than anything right now. He got straight to lubing himself up, before hovering over me with one hand each side on the bed. Slowly, he pushed into me, stopping when he was inside to let me get used to the pain. I leaned up and kissed him, showing him that he could move. He started to gently thrust, before they gradually became harsher, accompanied to loud moans I was emitting thanks to him hitting my prostate every time he thrusted back in. Soon, he grabbed my hard-on in his hand and started to jerk me off in time to his thrusts, that were starting to become sloppy. I felt the familiar tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach before I reached my orgasm, moaning loud. He hit his at roughly the same time, and rode it out before collapsing on top of me to catch his breath a little before pulling out and lying beside me. He looked so beautiful, lying there with sweat glistening on his angelic face.

“Tristan...Tristan honey...”

“Tristan... please wake up.” The seductive voice had turned into one of sadness. I heard gentle sobbing coming from next to me, and someone holding my hand. I tried to open my eyes. My eyelids were heavy, but I was persistent. Finally, they opened only to be blinded by light and have to quickly shut them again. I tried again but slower, so my eyes could adjust and saw the walls of what must have been a hospital room. I looked over to the where the sobbing was coming from and saw Ryan shaking gently. Why was I here? What happened?

“Ryan?”

“Tristan! Oh God, Trist! You’re back!” Ryan almost screamed as he flew forwards and wrapped his arms around me. I involuntarily winced at the contact and he jumped off of me hastily apologising. I lifted one finger to his lips to make him stop, feeling the strain it took on my arm. I felt pulling, and looked at it to see a white bandage wrapped around my forearm.

“Why am I here? What happened? What’s up with my arm?” I asked, a confused look on my face.

“You don’t remember? Do you even remember anything?”

“No, what did I do?”

“Do you remember Hayley staying over?” I nodded slowly. “Well, that night you went crazy. You got seriously drunk and cut all over your body. I don’t know why you felt you had to do it, but they were all over y-your arms, stomach and l-legs.” He explained, trying to hide the sobs that were breaking out. “I c-came over to take you to s-school, but there was no answer when I rang the doorb-bell. I waited, pressing that b-button. You s-still didn’t answer, so I let mys-self in. Y-you were unconscious a-and c-covered in b-b-blood. I brought you h-here. Y-you were out of it for two d-days. I was so w-worried, T-trist.” He managed to choke out. More tears slid down his face. I was in shock at what I had done; I had vowed I would never do that. Not ever.

Just then, a doctor came in to check up on me. He checked over my wounds and put a clean dressing on them. He then disconnected my body from the machines I was connected to and told me I could leave whenever I was ready, and then he instructed me on how to change the bandages, telling me that after a week I had to come back for him to check up on them. He handed me a pile of clothes, and then left the room. Ryan trailed behind him. I got slowly out of the bed, holding onto the cabinet closest to me so I didn’t lose my balance as I got head-rush from lying down for so long. I put on the clothes and left the room, leaving the discarded hospital gown on the bed. I walked over to Ryan and embraced him in a hug.

“Let’s go home.” That was all that was said between us on the journey. I sat in the car thinking about that dream. I couldn’t get it out of my head. I didn’t even know what to think of it. Ryan’s my best friend, and has been for as long as I can remember. I couldn’t like him like that, but I couldn’t argue with my subconscious mind.

The I.V. and your hospital bed
This was no accident
This was a therapeutic chain of events

This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital
It's not so pleasant
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where
The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in
It's not so pleasant.
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal