My Love for You Was Bulletproof, but You're the One Who Shot Me

When I woke up, I panicked. I had no idea where I was, but then I calmed down. I had a great nights sleep for once, and I stood, and did my morning routine I use to do at my old house.
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I walked down the stairs, slowly. It was quite awkward meeting him yesterday, and I really didn't know his name yet. I'd figure that out later. I heard him talking, rather annoyed, actually, as I stepped down the stairs. I guessed he was in his phone, so I peeked over the railing. I was right above him, only a few yards up. I just smiled, listening to his conversation.
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"No... No, I didn't... Why..? He seems fine to me... Well, I didn't want anyone else having him... Because he's adorable, that's why.... Oh call me a fag, fuck you... I never said that... WHAT? That's a lie... Yeah, it is... Fuck off... No... Possibly... I know that's not an answer... You can't pick up my sarcasm, can you?... I think he's sleeping upstairs... Because... Because I knew him in high school..." I listened contently. So I did know him. Vic ended the call, putting his phone back on the table. I leapt back up the stairs, and went down again as if I heard nothing and wasn't eavesdropping. I passed him quietly, accidentally brushing my hand against his. He looked up at me, silently, and looked down again. "Uhh. Hi." He said, and I guessed he wanted a conversation. "Hi..."