Benji

I couldn’t believe that I had walked away from Benji. It took everything in me to stop myself from turning around and going back to his side, just laying down with him and holding him again. I wanted nothing more than to be next to him. I wanted to have him in my arms forever.

I hated that I sounded so desperate. I hated that I couldn’t get my mind off the adorable boy who is currently asleep in my bed. I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Surely it’s not healthy. It can’t be. Thinking about him this much couldn’t be good for me.

But I was, and I couldn’t stop.

The wheels of my car sped over the road as I drove, no destination in mind; my only intent being distance. I just needed to be far enough away that I’d be able to stop myself from going back to him. My eyes stung and my chest ached and my jaw hurt from clenching it, but I refused to slow down. I needed time to think.

Desperately, I tried to clear my jumbled mind in order to think more productively, but I couldn’t. It was as though images of Benji’s sleeping form were burned into my mind and no matter what I did, I couldn’t make them leave.

Frustrated, I finally pulled over to the side of the road and slammed my hands on the steering wheel.

I was so confused – always so fucking confused.

Everything about Benji drew me in. He was so gorgeous, so adorable in his innocence, and he had such a sweet soul. He was almost like a child and I loved that he needed protecting. I wanted to be the one to protect him. When he was happy, I was happy. When he cried, my chest ached.

I was so infatuated with him.

And I had been so fucking sure that he felt differently. I had been certain that he felt nothing but friendship for me – and that only because he was a nice person and I was his friend’s brother. I was positive that there was no way he could be interested in me; we were so different, and he deserved so much better.

But then there had been so many instances where I’d had to question his feelings for me. So many instances where the thought had crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe…

I mean, hell, he’d fucking kissed me last night! Surely that had to mean something, even if he was drunk. Drunken man’s words are sober man’s thoughts, right?

I really had no idea what to do; I was such a coward. It would be so much easier if Benji just told me straight up how he felt, but I knew it was unfair to expect him to.

If I wanted something, I had to act. I just had to tell him.

It was only a matter of how long it would take to gather some courage.