Breach

I think somewhere along the way I became messed up. Perhaps it was because of the divorce? Sometime during this whole mess I cracked and finally lost whatever sanity I had left because thinking of Bishop in such a way…

I’m sick. Not so much thinking since my mind was just blank during the whole thing but…

My hands are still shaking from earlier. I’m trying to breathe normally, trying to get my heart back to its normal pace but I can’t. It won’t.

I try to think of why, why something as simple as us stumbling into each other evokes such a response but the only things that come to mind make me cringe. It’s Bishop. He’s a boy. He’s 18. There’s a 10-year age difference. I’m more like an older brother!

Gripping the steering wheel, I grind my teeth and order myself to never let my mind stray in such a way ever again.

But I guess my mind is more rebellious than I thought because honestly…how can it not stray when I see such a sight?

My work has ended after a long, long day. The very idea of returning home to a nice meal was what made me break possibly every law while speeding home. And what do I get instead of a meal? Well it could be considered a meal, eye candy I suppose…

Ah, stop that, Antony stop it! You’re sick, shut up.

But really…

After returning home I made my way to the couch, ready to take a seat but there was a body lying there instead; Bishop to be exact.

And that’s how I find myself standing here, staring at his sleeping form.

He’s lying on his back with one arm stretched up, over the arm of the couch while the other is locked behind his head. His shirt is useless, since it’s rolled up revealing all his stomach and chest. One leg is bent upwards while the other is stretched out much like his arm. His boxers barely cling to his hips, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Damn him. Damn him for being…

He’s really asking for it. What it is I’m not sure but I’m sure I don’t want to think about it because I’d probably frighten myself with the answer.

I’m not sure when my mind became so twisted. Was it always like this? I think back on it, the time Bishop and I have spent together. I have always thoroughly enjoyed his company. Maybe…in a way…my feelings for Bishop haven’t always been “just friends.”

Now that I think about it I did a lot of things, like push off work to talk with him, that I wouldn’t do for others. Jean, specifically. Bishop always so easily managed to catch and keep my attention.

But…but hell I’ve become so fucked up since he’s started living with me. This past month I find myself thinking things I really shouldn’t. I’m a messed up person.

I should tell him to leave. It’d be for the best because I honestly don’t know how much longer I can last but…but I really enjoy my time with him. I’m too selfish to give him up. I want to keep him around. Is that bad? Does that make me bad?

I bite my lip. I have to stop thinking about this.

Grabbing the blanket I have on the love seat, I quickly wrap it around Bishop. The boy mumbles to himself before turning to face away from me, curling in on himself and the blanket. I smile. He’s really cute.

Back in my room I change out of my work clothes and head for the shower. There I stand under a cold spray of water, desperately trying to erase any fucked up thoughts from my mind. It doesn’t work.

Sometime during my shower Bishop woke up. The boy smiles upon seeing me entering the kitchen with a towel draped over my head. My eyes linger on Bishop’s shirtless torso before he tugs it down, removing it from my view.

“Welcome back,” Bishop yawns, rubbing at his still half asleep eyes. He stretches, moans then stands to come to my side in the kitchen. I’m currently looking in the fridge for dinner but I find nothing, which makes me frown.

“Where’s dinner?” I ask making Bishop laugh.

“I wanted to wait until you got home sweetie so it wouldn’t be cold,” Bishop says in a high-pitched tone that makes me cringe. Seeing my reaction only makes him laugh. “Aren’t I a great house hubby?”

“No if you were you would have found a way to make dinner and keep it warm until my arrival,” I reply with a sly grin. Bishop’s smile disappears at my reply and he huffs.

“You sir are not eating tonight.”

“And you are getting the hell out of my place.”

“Chicken it is.”

I laugh at my victory. Bishop searches through the kitchen for what he needs to make dinner while I go to the couch where I implant myself in the cushion. After lying there for about five minutes I realize that my couch has managed to pick up the scent that is Bishop.

I groan. The world is torturing me, isn’t it?