Status: One-shot; complete
The Break
Un.
I can't imagine what I just said. It can't be right. I couldn't have said anything at all. We're just having a conversation -- just talking about the people we know. The girls you noticed. The random curves you introduced yourself to, buzzed and then drunk and then shitfaced, the bodies you got to know and the hands you needed to feel on you. And you got into how lonely you are, and the way you feel like you're never going to find someone that's anymore than curves and hands, and all those words just made me crazy for a moment and I know what I said. I know I told you that you could do better, that you could find someone to take care of you for longer than a night, someone that would do anything for you if you would just open your goddamn eyes for once.
And the air is still now, and I'm holding my breath and trying to swallow the panic in my mouth, trying to calm my running heart because you really had no idea this entire time? Your mouth agape. Your brow frowned. Your eyes confused. All this time and you had no inclination.
And my hands are shaking because it doesn't make any damn sense, how you could just not know that all along, since the day we met, before you even realized that I was a person, I have had this ache inside me to tell you that someone out there thinks the sun shines out your ass and to open your eyes and see the world for once instead of focusing on how miserable you had to be before it made you mysterious and desirable and conventionally attractive.
"What are you trying to say, man?"
But it's impossible that you didn't know, so maybe you're just playing with me. My insides are paralyzed. There's nothing around me -- just your words floating in and out and into and out of my ears, and it's too late to say 'never mind, just kidding, don't worry about it, it's nothing' because now you've seen what I've been trying to hide from you.
"I love you." But those are the wrong words, those aren't right at all -- those words are too big but they don't even cover it -- they no where near compensate what I have for you. "I mean, not love. I'm. Not in love with you, I mean. I just mean I feel you. I -- "
I can think a little clearer with your eyes off me, focused on the ground and not on me. Your lips purse, and you squint. There's no recovery from this. No way to fix this. Might as well get it out.
"I just. For a while, I. I've felt really strongly about -- well, you know, and -- "
"Are you telling me you're a fag?"
And that's the worst of it. Your lip curls and I can feel the break between us. The look in your eyes like you'd crawl out of your skin to get away from me. And that's fine, because I knew all along that you were... I mean, even with you flirting with me. All that harmless banter, and you poking fun at me, and complimenting on my appearance and telling me I matter to you and I make a difference in your life. Even with your secret trip to the city to fuck that boy from your art class -- drunken, of course. No, I knew all along. Of course you weren't --
"I knew something was wrong with you. We all did, really. You just... don't know when to let up. I mean, Chris told me you were obsessed with me, but I didn't think -- "
And I implode.
And the air is still now, and I'm holding my breath and trying to swallow the panic in my mouth, trying to calm my running heart because you really had no idea this entire time? Your mouth agape. Your brow frowned. Your eyes confused. All this time and you had no inclination.
And my hands are shaking because it doesn't make any damn sense, how you could just not know that all along, since the day we met, before you even realized that I was a person, I have had this ache inside me to tell you that someone out there thinks the sun shines out your ass and to open your eyes and see the world for once instead of focusing on how miserable you had to be before it made you mysterious and desirable and conventionally attractive.
"What are you trying to say, man?"
But it's impossible that you didn't know, so maybe you're just playing with me. My insides are paralyzed. There's nothing around me -- just your words floating in and out and into and out of my ears, and it's too late to say 'never mind, just kidding, don't worry about it, it's nothing' because now you've seen what I've been trying to hide from you.
"I love you." But those are the wrong words, those aren't right at all -- those words are too big but they don't even cover it -- they no where near compensate what I have for you. "I mean, not love. I'm. Not in love with you, I mean. I just mean I feel you. I -- "
I can think a little clearer with your eyes off me, focused on the ground and not on me. Your lips purse, and you squint. There's no recovery from this. No way to fix this. Might as well get it out.
"I just. For a while, I. I've felt really strongly about -- well, you know, and -- "
"Are you telling me you're a fag?"
And that's the worst of it. Your lip curls and I can feel the break between us. The look in your eyes like you'd crawl out of your skin to get away from me. And that's fine, because I knew all along that you were... I mean, even with you flirting with me. All that harmless banter, and you poking fun at me, and complimenting on my appearance and telling me I matter to you and I make a difference in your life. Even with your secret trip to the city to fuck that boy from your art class -- drunken, of course. No, I knew all along. Of course you weren't --
"I knew something was wrong with you. We all did, really. You just... don't know when to let up. I mean, Chris told me you were obsessed with me, but I didn't think -- "
And I implode.