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The man who has come to mean more to me than anyone else wants intimacy, but not sex. I can care for him, about him, but I can’t be in love with him.
Brendon is a toucher, it’s just how he is. He needs it, but it’s killing me.
I can’t lose him as my best friend over a fucking kiss. That would crush me. If he wants to pretend it didn’t happen, I would deal with it, but if he stops touching me altogether, I would die.
“You’re crazy.” A big smile splits his face. “You mispronounced awesome.”
I link our hands together, my palm against the back of his hand and my fingers in between his. I lift his arm to press against my heart. He’s my safe place, and I just hope he knows I am for him too.
I’ve been living and breathing your touch lately. If I don’t come up for air, I’ll drown in you.
With every step I take, I feel like I’m being watched. As if people all around me are whispering and laughing about me. Make it stop. I just need it all to stop.
For the rest of the game, every chance they get, I’m slammed, tripped, and shoved. My ribs fucking ache, and every breath comes with a shot of electricity straight through me, but I don’t let it stop me. I won’t let them see me break.
My breathing is coming too fast as my pulse spikes, the alcohol that was making me happy and loose now makes me paranoid and edgy. My body is vibrating under my skin, and I just want to scream to make it all stop.
My best friend, the love of my fucking life, is in pain and fighting himself.
“You’re my favorite person. You’re my person. There’s nothing about you I would change. You hear me?”
My boy, the love of my fucking life, looks at me like he’s a child. Hurt and uncertainty and humiliation clear in his sad brown eyes.
Brendon shudders, then kisses me softly. I follow his lead, letting him take this where he needs it to go, but he doesn’t deepen it. Just takes comfort from me. It makes my heart soar to know he reaches for me when he needs something. It’s everything because he is everything. My everything.
I shove against him, but he barely budges. “Just fuck off! I didn’t ask you to save me!” “I love you. You don’t have to ask!” His angry red face is in mine.
I’m falling apart. I hate that I hide it all so well that no one knows, but all I want is for someone to notice, but at the same time, if anyone did notice, I would tell them I’m fine because I don’t want to be a burden.
Another tear trails down his face, and this time, I lean down and kiss him. The soft press of our lips doesn’t hide how his trembles. My poor boy is scared, and I hate that for him.
He’s so needy for physical comfort, and I will never complain about it. I need to be needed. I need to know I’m enough.
“Come now, Batman, there is fuckery a foot!”
I shrug and lay my head on his shoulder. Normally this position is reversed and he’s leaning on me, but I like that I can rely on him to be strong for me sometimes. That’s what relationships are all about, right? Switching who is strong.
“I don’t deserve you,” he says with a gravelly voice. “But I’m selfish enough to not let you get away either.”
