Open [boyxboy] ✓

ten:: when you're too gay to function.

[Me and my Broken Heart by Rixton]

TEN:: when you're too gay to function.

"First off, you look really cute, let's just get that out of the way," Paul had muttered after he'd dragged me to the restroom. He'd sat himself on the sink, me coming to stand beside him, feeling quite self-conscious considering how good he looked. He fixed his galaxy print socks that showed from underneath his Roshes, tilting his head to the side and his full bottom lip was pulled out a bit.

And looking down, I willed the hotness in my cheeks to simmer down before he noticed it. My ears were burning and turning to look at myself in the mirror a little, my freckles blending in slightly, "I don't know whether to feel flattered or objectified."

Paul motioned me over, lips pulled into a comforting smile as I went to stand in between his legs, "It was a compliment," his fingers came to my chin, pushing it upwards, "All I can think right now is Jules, you're so fucking hot."

And my face was no doubt crimson, as my eyes met his beautiful ones. My pants were getting a little tighter and I willed myself not to get turned on from his slightly aggressive tone and his fingers, slightly calloused, brushing against my skin.

And seeing my discomfort, Paul changed the subject, dropping his hand and backing up, adjusting himself back onto the sink and hiding a smug smirk.

His arms flexed with the effort of pushing himself up, his muscles became even more visible which didn't at all match his artsy persona but was a surprise I wasn't complaining about. I licked my lips, eyes focusing on Paul and only Paul as he tried to make conversation as if he hadn't just caused a million feelings to stir, "They're nice. They remind me of us, ya know? Caspar is a lot like Brandon..."

I was trying desperately not to come off cheap but sitting in the empty men's bathroom with a hot guy who you may or may not have feelings for makes it kinda hard. My eyes were focused on his prominent collarbones that poked from underneath the t-shirt he was wearing when he scratched an area above them. I muttered out a "Nah, he's just kind of in a mood," as Paul pulled at his collar, successfully loosening the already loose material.

And that was when he changed the subject again, the thing he wanted to talk about weighing down on his shoulders; Paul was an open book, you could always tell when he was beating around the bush, "Can we uh talk?"

And reluctantly, I nodded. I knew where he was going with the conversation and even though I didn't want to go there, I knew it was bugging him too much.

Clearing his throat, his eyes looked from my eyes to the sink, "I want to know where we stand... You've been ignoring me," the slight sadness in his voice was bringing along guilt and I was regretting not calling or texting. I was even ignoring Pete at school, so hell bent on running away from my feelings.

Because that's just it, they weren't feelings. I couldn't feel anything for Paul, we'd just met and I loved Calum, that didn't just change in two weeks.

I watched as his smile faltered before it was just forced and fake, his body tensing. My expression was a mixture of guilt and self-pity and for some reason, I couldn't help but feel pathetic, "Paul, we barely know each other and we made out, I don't know how to feel."

"Plus, you're the one that said that you didn't wanna see me again." And he didn't say that, necessarily but did he just forget the whole conversation we'd had?

"I didn't say that." He dismissed. "You're really cute and-and you're nice. Plus, we're not seeing each other, right?"

"Yeah."

"I liked it." That wasn't as clear so he made it clear. He was being blunt, like he said he liked and my heart was beating a bit too fast. "I like talking to you." God. "Do you like talking to me?"