If Looks Could Kill, I'd Be Dead

Theta

Oh my God.

Oh. My. God.

Sascha and I... Sascha and I had sex?! How drunk was I friday night? Holy shit. How drunk was he? He's... gay. I don't even know...

Monday was completely awkward. When he came to pick me up for school, we both muttered greetings to each other. Let the awkward silence commence the most awkward silence I've ever had with him. Or rather, with anyone. Sascha and I were neverawkward. We always understood what the other was thinking, what the other was feeling.

During school, we walked to class in silence. Sascha is never silent. In fact, he more or less has trouble keeping his mouth shut. I love that he talks so much; I love hearing his voice. This is terrible. I miss the sound of his pretty, perfect voice.

In art, Loren noticed something was off.

"You a'wright?" he asked me after I had mumbled a greeting, not really looking him in the face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I blanantly lie, plastering on a smile and looking into his beautiful face.

"Oh, okay." He says, offering a small smile. We don't really talk much, like we have been. When we're walking to his next class, he stops a little ways before his classroom.

"You know, Theta, I'm always here to talk if yeh wanted to." he says.

"Oh? Well, thank you." My head is still down a bit; I look up at him from under my bangs and give him the first genuine smile since the party.

"C'mere." He wraps his strong arms around me and pulls me close to him. I'm surprised at first, but I return the gesture, hugging his torso close to me. He strokes my hair gently.

Calm down, Theta. He doesn't have any type of feelings for you. He's just being a good friend, is all. Deep breaths. Don't look too deeply into things. Why would the good looking British guy ever look twice in your direction, anyways?

It only lasts a few moments, but I wish I could have stood there in his arms for a long time. He holds me at arms length, hands resting lightly on my shoulders. Tingles run down my arms.

"I'll see yeh later." He says, a gorgeous smile on his face.

"Bye." I offer him a small smile. He turns and walks into his classrooom. I watch his legs and hips as he goes.

I am such a slut. I think to myself, sadly. I know it's true. I had just drunkenly made love to my gay best friend a few days ago, and here I am checking out another guy that I've only known for a week.

I don't even know what to do with myself.

Talk about awkward, lunch was the worst. Loren noticed something was up between us and tried to keep the conversation going. He successfully carried conversation with us, just asking us questions and whatnot. I apreciated his efforts, because if he wasn't doing that, I'd probably just crawl into a hole.

This was the worst week I've ever had. I'm already slightly an insomniac, but without Sascha sleeping in the same bed as me, I found it even harder to sleep. I just laid in bed at night, craving my best friend's warmth that lulled me to sleep at night. I miss him so badly.

I can't believe that our friendship is ruined because of this. It's tearing me apart inside, and out. I cry all of the time, at night or when I'd usually be with him after school. I'd sit in our favourite tree, the one in my backyard that we'd sat in and just spent time with each other in many a time this past summer. Now, I sit here alone, staring at the sky and watching the clouds move past me, watch the skies change colours as the day ended and night appeared.

I love this boy with all of my heart. I know we can't be together, and I'm completely okay with that. I don't love him, like a true love, man-that-I'll-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with kind of love, but a friendship type of love so deep that I'd do anything for him.

And now, I can't even look into his pale blue eyes anymore. I can't hug him close to me. I can't ruffle his soft, silky hair. I can't laugh while he's holding me. I can't smile at him across the room. I can't look up and see his eyes on me, simply because he won't make eye contact.

My friendship with Loren is even straining. I'm not myself. I do make conversation with him, but he becomes increasingly uninterested in me as time goes on. I see him talking to pretty girls in the hallway in between classes or even during art class, if he goes to get more paints or something, he'll talk to those beautiful girls. Don't get me wrong, he still talks to me, smiles at me and hugs me. God, if I didn't have his hugs, I think I'd jump off a cliff. His touch is the only thing that keeps me sane. I'm so grateful I have his hugs, still.

I never do end up taking Loren's offer to talk. I mean, what would he think of us, of me if he heard what had happened. I don't even know what he'd say. I'm scared that I'd lose him as a friend as well if I confided in him. I can't, I just can't.

I'm such a charity case. I must look like shit. I've always had bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, but it's gotten really bad. And I haven't been eating at all, really, so I must look emaciated; I've lost more than a few pounds. This isn't good at all. I must look horrible. I wonder why Loren even talks to me anymore. Sascha and I, we haven't talked like we normally do since the Party. It's absolutely heartbreaking. I miss him so much.

I don't know how much longer I can handle this until I completely fall apart.