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TWENTY-EIGHT.

...how it feels when love dies...

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Alejandro

I rolled over for the umpteenth time with frustration, physical and emotional turmoil tormenting my being. Muffled groans from my face buried in my vanilla-scented pillow bounced through my room.

"Fuck!" I sighed loudly while thumping my bed with clenched fists.

I couldn't sleep. No, I wasn't insomniac and this certainly wasn't a side effect of diabetes.

I casted my mind back to when Damien called me this evening and informed me he was about to tell his best friend about the- our- 'misdoings'. I strongly insisted that it wasn't necessary because there was/is nothing between Grayson and I but, no. He didn't lend me listening ears.

I mean it's not we are/were boyfriends or anything. I just had a stupid crush that will never be properly reciprocated, that's all.

Letting out another sigh, I spun like a rolling pin to face the ceiling- I sleep with my belly down because it's more comfortable than log-lying like a corpse- and stared at its green blankness that looked like a smooth mowed lawn.

Why was I now worried about what Grayson would think of me when he found out? Where was this weird, poisonous wellspring of guilt originating from?

Why the hell did I feel like apologizing to him?

Turmoiled thoughts continued to roam about in my head, giving my body system unrest so I decided to consult the only type of people you meet for advice; your friends.

And to my utmost dismay, my best friend who was still recovering from homophobia and his apparent "psychosis". "I swear, I just flipped out of character, man. I know I'm a dirty liar but please just tell no one. I'm sorry!" That was what he said. I'd like to keep it that way and not throw the frying pan into the fire.

Even though I don't feel comfortable the slightest talking to him

"Hoi Nolly." I waved to the bright screen of my laptop while he narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously. His curly brown hair was neat - Nolan was a neat freak, no surprise there - while his hazel eyes that looked like bright green leaves with partial chlorosis burned through the Skype screen.

"First and foremost, don't call me that. Secondly, what the fuck is wrong with you, bro? You look fucked."

You couldn't be more correct, bro.

"I'm. . .not fine."

"Care to share?"

I pondered over this for a moment. I wouldn't want to seem stupid to Nolan because, trust me, he wouldn't hesitate to rub it all on my face like peanut butter.

I sighed in frustration. "It's Grayson."

His mouth opened to release an irritated groan, effectively displaying his perfect set of teeth and adorable diastema. "I should ever-so-curtly hang up on your little gay ass but because you're my best friend and I love you, I'll help you out so go on."