“What’s wrong?” I ask Kerian, looking at him from across the table as we eat at his favorite greasy pizza place. It’s been a week since we got back from visiting my family and he’s been weird. I asked on the way home if I had hurt him when we were fucking, apologizing before he got a chance to answer. I told him I kind of got lost in it, and he scoffed at me. Really fucking scoffed. “I can take more than that, Zandy, don’t worry,” he said, then looked out the window, his jaw set and silence resting heavily between us. I dropped the subject, since he said he was fine. But he’s been strange.
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