I'm Straight I Swear!? (BoyxBoy)

25- Love me?

What...no, he didn't say that, couldn't have. This was Joey we were talking about, my best friend, my comrade, my other much better half, not some random stranger I had a one night stand with. He had grown up along side me, had seen me shit my pants, and arrive snot-nosed on his doorstep. He had been there for every scraped knee and unprovoked temper-tantrum had watch me grow up into an intolerable asshole and had stayed despite my constant complaining and numerous faults. He had stayed...I guess deep down there had to be a reason, and maybe that reason had always been love, maybe somewhere between my arm twisting, prank pulling, and name calling he had fallen in love with me. It was outrageous, after all I was a self proclaimed jerk, not some lovable teddy bear. I was all edges and sharp corners, all caution tape and hazard signs, but he was also the type of guy to look the other way, the kind of guy who would look at a snot-nosed kid with ketchup stains and think "that's my friend, that's him," and brandish him to the world like a prized trophy. He knew me, he saw me...all of me, and he wasn't disappointed, or angry, or scared, or upset, he was just Joey. My Joey, I thought to myself as I looked at him. He had a panicked expression on his face, and between his lips was the pale pink of his bottom lip.

"I love you..."

"I love you..."

"I love you..."

     I heard the words like an echo in my head, like a scratched record skipping so fast that I never hear the reply. I step forward.

     My heart is beating so fast in my chest, that I fear it might jump out into the palm of his hands, and standing right in the middle is that fucking woman with a disgusted look on her face. My fists clench, and I take another step. Why is it suddenly so hard to breathe? Looking at him, I see all the years of our friendship, but more than that I see the evolution of his smile, his laugh, the little idiosyncrasies I memorized like sheet music. The way he looks to the left when you ask him an awkward question, the splotchy red in his cheeks that appears only when he's really mad, the way he takes a shower whenever he feels like crying and doesn't want people to know, the way he'll break down in front of me because he knows that I will pick him up, the way he closes his eyes when taking a sip of water, how he reaches out for me without checking to see if I'm there, how he alphabetizes his movies according to director, and sings along to the instrumental part in songs, I've hoarded these things like treasures, and mistook them for coal.

     He is my Joey, he always has been. I step again. There is fear in his eyes, and I want to douse it, I want to hug him, and so I do. I wrap my arms tightly around him, ignoring the protests in the background.

     "Wha-why are you-I mean...why?" Joey sputters.

     "Because," I say pulling back, "I love you," and I realize how much I mean it. Sometimes things just creep up on you, so slowly that you don't even notice, and I guess I had spent too much time convincing myself that I couldn't feel this way, that he and I would only ever be friends because that was all we were allowed to be. But now, in this place, there are no limitations, no reason to deny what or who I am. "I love you," I say again, smiling, and he smiles too, tentatively at first before breaking out into an uncontrollable grin and then we are kissing, and it's different from last time because last time I was scared, last time I was just making a point, that I was straight, that I didn't like it, didn't like him. But now there is a different fear churning in my stomach...insecurity. I'm afraid that I won't be good enough for him, that I will accidentally do something stupid and he'll realize that loving me is foolhardy. But he doesn't pull away, and I don't stop. I just kiss him, and it feels so unmistakably right. 

     A loud screeching sound starts, like a car alarm mixed with a dying cat, and Joey is yanked away from me, and I from him. Strong arms hold me in a vise-like grip. I struggle against them, all the while calling out Joey's name. Please not now, I pray, please not him. But wherever God is, it isn't here, and before I know it I am dragged out of the room and placed before the smiling face of Director Hayes. I spit at his feet.