Requited

"How did you get here so fast?" He asks, as he lets me in.

His apartment has the same empty feeling as mine. Sarah left last week, and Tyler left earlier today. Their things are gone. The photographs Sarah took in Dubrovnik, that used to hang above the sofa, are gone. Nothing but nails and slight discolorations in the paint on the wall, lie in their wake. The pink feather boa, that was draped over the mirror in the hallway ever since Tyler's hat party, is gone too.

Seeing his place like this and seeing him in it, surrounded by half packed boxes and empty space, makes me feel frantic. I feel wild. Terrified. More afraid than I've ever been. For the first time, I'm not just scared of losing him. I

am

scared of that. I'm scared shitless of that. But that's not all I'm scared of now. I'm scared of more than that now. Much more. Now, I'm scared that if I don't tell him how I feel, he's going to drift away and I'm going to live the rest of my life living a half-life. I'm going to spend the rest of my life feeling him in my chest. Every year, life is going to take him further and further away from me. I'm going to live every day knowing I didn't take a chance.

"I drove." I say.

"What? Are you crazy? Have you been drinking?"

"No," I say, though I can see how I might have sounded a little unhinged when I called him earlier.

"I thought you were fucked up."

"I am fucked up. Believe me, I am, but not like that."

He looks confused and a little upset. A little upset, turns to a lot upset. His eyes are huge and dark. Big, black pools. Glassy and shiny.

"I, uh, I kind of feel like we're having a fight, but I'm not really sure what it's about." He says, biting the corner of his bottom lip.

"I feel like that too," I say, before adding quietly, "but I do know what it's about."

He looks more confused, and his eyes are sadder than ever, "What's going on with you, West?"

"I feel like everything is ending. I feel like this is the end."

"Oh, West." I can tell he's trying really hard to be supportive but it's taking a toll on him, "You'll get back together with Ash. You always do. Don't worry about it."

"I won't. It's over. It's done."

He must hear something in my voice, because he looks a little taken aback. He doesn't say anything. He just stands there, looking at me in a mixture of sympathy and something else. He looks tired. Weary.

"I had a dream about you the last night." I say, "You were really, really far away. I was calling you, but you couldn't hear me. I was upset when I woke up. I'm worried...I think that's what's going to happen. Our lives are going to take us in different directions, and we'll drift apart. That's what happens with college friends."

He doesn't reply.

"Andy, I don't want that to happen with you."

"I don't want that either."

"Our friendship is too important to me."

"It's important to me, too."

"I know, but I think it's more important to me. I'm the one who always makes all the effort. I think it means more to me than it does to you."

He smiles a wry little smile, it's the smile he always smiles when he thinks he knows more than I do, "No, it doesn't."

"I have to have you in my life. It's like I, I won't be okay without you. Andy, I don't just want you in my life, I need you."

His brow furrows for a second and then he looks down at his feet, "I need you, too."

"I'm really, really scared of fucking our friendship up." There's fear in my voice. I can't hide it, so I don't even try.

"Me too." He looks right at me when he says it. His voice is strong. Stronger than usual. He really means it.

I sigh. I look around the room for a second. I know I'm going to say it. I always do. I can't help it. My heart starts sinking before I even say the words. I already know what his response is going to be, but I say it anyway.

"I love you, Andy."

My chest squeezes as I wait. I'm expecting a, "Shut up," or a, "Jesus." He looks tired, so maybe, tonight, it will just be an, "Ugh," or an eye roll. I keep waiting, but he doesn't say anything. My heart starts pounding. I can feel it in my throat. I will my eyes to look up at him. I move them slowly. I move them up his body, his neck and his face. I move them up, until I get to his eyes.

He takes half a breath. A quick intake and then a strange, choked little exhale.

"I love you, too." The words seem to spill out of his mouth, tumbling out fast.

His voice wavers as he says it. It sounds like a very fine blade has sliced through his larynx. The words travel slowly across the space between us. When they finally land, they land softly. They warm my chest. It starts to burn. I don't move for a second. Maybe more.

He looks down and tries to smile. It's a nervous, wobbly smile, "Bro." He adds quickly.

It's too late. He said it and I heard it. I felt it, too. I feel it. I start to smile. I feel it all over my body. The smile takes me over. I feel it in every cell in my body. Explosions. Tiny explosions, rip through me. Every part of me is alight. On fire.

"I told you!" I cry. A wave of euphoria hits me, as I step towards him, "I

told

you. Didn't I always tell you, one of these days, you'd say it back?"

"It's uh, it's no b-big deal." He's still trying to smile. He's still not entirely successful.

"There's one thing I didn't tell you, you know that?" I take another step to him. He steps back a little. His eyes are huge. He looks nervous. He tries to move, to look away, but he doesn't.

"W-what's that?"

"I never told you what I swore to myself I'd do, if you said it back."

He's stepped back as far as he can. He's up against the wall. I take one more step towards him. I'm so close, we're almost touching. I can feel his heat from where I'm standing. It's burning me through my clothes.

"W-what's happening?" He whispers, so softly he's barely mouthing the words.

"I'm going to kiss you, that's what's happening. I'm going to kiss you right n..."

I don't finish my sentence. He cuts me off. He leans down and kisses me first. He kisses me with an intensity I've never felt before. A force, I've never even imagined. I lean up towards him. I open myself. I'm like a vessel, empty, but I want to be full. I lean up and open my mouth. He fills me. He pours himself into me and I let him fill me completely. I let him flow into me until I'm on fire. I'm burning. I'm burning and moaning. A deep, low sound is coming from my belly. I don't sound like myself. I sound wild. I sound like an animal. The sound coming from me, isn't a moan, it's a call. A mating call. My mate hears me. He knows my call. He answers with a call of his own. A soft, low, growl. The sound reverberates through me. It echoes in my lips, my heart and every part of my body that's pressed up against him.

My hands are around his neck and in his hair. We are both breathless. We're gasping.

"What's going on?" He says again.

"I want you." I moan into his mouth, "I want you, Andy."

Even though I know I should, I don't wait. I can't. I start pulling at his t-shirt. I start lifting it. He looks stunned and confused, but his eyes are dark with arousal. He lifts his arms up above his head and I pull his t-shirt off. I throw it down on the floor. A low moan rises up from my core. The sight of him like this, shirtless, open mouthed. In my grasp. It's almost too much. My brain is thinking slowly. It's not thinking in words. It's thinking in sight and sound. It's thinking in touch. My hands are shaking. They are shaking so much, but I touch him anyway. My hands are everywhere. They are all over his chest. I'm stroking his abs. I'm grabbing at his pecs and his arms. He's hot and hard. I can't get enough. My hands snake down. They are being pulled downward. Down to his dick.

The first time I touch him, I do it with a flat palm. The second I touch him, my hand curls around him. It clenches. I grab him hard. So hard, he gasps and bucks. He's thick and solid. He pulses in my hand. I don't stop. I stroke with one hand and I rip at his belt and his fly with the other. The whole time, my eyes don't leave his. I see worlds in his eyes. Planets. Galaxies. I see the answers to every question I've ever had. I see it all. I don't want to look away. Just the thought of it makes me ache. But another world is calling my name. A place that's been calling me for a long time. Too long. Its call has gone unanswered for years. I have to answer now. I have to. It's not calling vaguely now. Now, it's saying my name. It's calling loudly. It's calling strong. I sink down to my knees. I do it without thinking. Without a clear plan. I simply answer the call.

"What's happening right now?" He whispers.

He looks confused. His hair has fallen into his face. His lips are parted. Thick with desire. Even though he doesn't understand exactly what's happening, he knows what to do. He pushes his jeans and his briefs down. He shoves them out of the way.

I moan again, when I see him like that. His dick is perfection. It's thick and straight. Uncut. It's swollen and hard. Straining. My hands are on his hips and I pull him towards me. I lean my face into him. I press myself against him. I rub my face up and down the length of him. I press my nose as close to him as I can get and inhale deeply. He smells like Andy. Exactly like Andy. Just like the faint hint of him I've been smelling for years. This isn't faint though. I found the source. I'm not just close, I'm shoved up against it. I rub my face and my mouth against him. He's hot to the touch. Smooth and hot. I moan again. The sound rises inside me. It rises like a wave. It makes my back arch and just for a moment, I look up at him. He's looking down at me in wonder. Awe. Astonishment. I don't look for long. I take him in my hand and bring him to my mouth. He's rigid and big. He fills my mouth. I lick him and stroke him. I take him into my mouth. I do it over and over. I try to consume him. I do it until he's moaning, too. I do it until he steps back.

He pulls me up to my feet. My head spins from the sudden change in longitude. I'm dizzy. My vision is unclear. He kisses me again. This time, he kisses me like he owns me. He forces his tongue into my mouth. As he does it, he pushes me towards his bedroom. We stagger backwards. We crash into the door. He pulls off my t-shirt and then my belt. It lands on the floor with a hollow clank. He fumbles at my fly, stepping out of his own jeans at the same time. He pushes me down on the bed and pulls off my shoes and socks and then my jeans. We are both completely naked. I'm almost insane with desire. Seeing Andy like that, naked. Just muscle and skin. I can't think. I can't think anything. All I can do, is feel.

His hands are all over me. His big, beautiful hands. Hands that make art. Hands that make beautiful things. He inches them down my chest, down my belly. I try to lie still, but I can't. My dick is screaming. It's begging and straining. If he doesn't touch me, I know I'll go insane. I can't talk though. I can't form the words, so I can't tell him. Thank God, it's Andy and he knows me. He knows me better than anyone. He understands. He strokes me gently. Just a light touch. It's enough though. It's more than enough. Every muscle in my body tenses. They all tense hard. He takes me into his mouth, and I feel weak with relief. I look down and see myself disappear into his mouth, into his beautiful face. What he's doing to me is unreal. He takes me and takes me. He takes more of me than I ever thought possible. Then he takes more. I feel the slick smoothness of his throat. It feels like he's swallowing me. Swallowing me whole.

He has one hand on his dick. He's stroking furiously. I can't drag my eyes off him. I see the second he comes. He sprays all over. He moans on my dick. The sound resonates through me. I was hanging on by a thread anyway and the sound he makes reaches inside me and squeezes my soul. It damned nearly squeezes the life out of me. I come so hard everything goes black. It all goes away. The stress of the last couple of months, things with Ash, all the good-bye's, the empty apartments, the thought of Andy drifting away, it all goes. It fades to black. Everything's quiet. Perfect and peaceful. There's nothing but pleasure. I feel like I'm floating. There's nothing but Andy. There's nothing but Andy and me.

"What the fuck is happening right now?" He whispers once more.

I can't talk. I still don't know words. So, I show him. I show him and then he shows me. We show each other until we can't move. We show each other until we both fall asleep.

Falling asleep, is putting it mildly. Passing out, is probably a better description.

*

The next morning, I wake up late. It's already light. I look around the room. Andy isn't here, his side of the bed is cold. I notice there's no pillow wedged between me and where he lay, so I guess that's a good thing. I find my jeans in a crumpled heap on the floor and pull them on. I have a quick attack of nerves as I do it. Last night was wild. We were both out of control. It isn't dark now. It's light. That makes it feel different. That makes it feel real. I head into the living room to find him and to find out what reality looks like in the cold light of day.

He's in the kitchen. He has his back turned to me. He has a pair of sweatpants on and nothing else.

"Hey." I say.

It's just a small word, but it doesn't come out easily. It sounds a little breathless. Like I've been running, or something. His whole body tenses. I see the muscles in his back contract. He jumps noticeably at the sound of my voice and spins around quickly to face me.

"Morning," he says, "a-are you okay?" His eyes are wide. He's biting his top lip. Not biting it, really, just running his teeth over it, the way he does when he's nervous, "Everything's fine," he adds quickly. So quickly, I'm not sure if he's trying to convince me or if he's trying to convince himself, "everything's okay. It's definitely all fine."

I feel my eyebrows rising. I've seen him stressed and a little up-tight before, but I've never seen him like this.

"This kind of thing happens," he continues, his voice is a little higher than usual and he's talking so fast, his words are running into each other, "it happens from time to time. It doesn't have to be a big deal. It's fine. I mean, it's weird, but it's fine. I guess, i-it's just one of those weird things that happened, but we won't make it weird, so it just...it just won't be weird."

I burst out laughing at that. I don't mean to, but I can't help it. I can't believe he's using my line. I walk over to him. He's leaning against the kitchen counter and I'm a metre or so away from him.

"Well," I say, dragging my voice out as if I'm giving it serious thought. I dig deep. I dig deep into myself and find every shred of self-assurance I can muster, "I think we could have got away with not making it weird, if we only came three times. I think the problem is the fourth time. I think that was one time too many. I think the fourth time just pushed this whole thing over the edge. Over the edge and right into serious weirdness."

"It doesn't have to." He whispers, "It can still be fine. It doesn't have change anything."

I take another step towards him. "What if it does?" I'm so close to him now, we're almost touching. I can see how much I'm affecting him. I can see how nervous he is. Seeing him like that, makes me feel better. I can see this means something to him. Hopefully, it means the same thing to him as it does to me. I take one more step, so that our hips are touching. "What if I want it to?"

He looks around the room in a daze. He blinks his eyes hard for a second and then looks at me, "What's going on?"

"This." I say, running my hand up his chest, curling my hand around his neck and pulling him towards me. I kiss him softly.

He gasps and pulls away, "But West, you're straight. You, you like girls."

Being close to him like this, is sending a charge through me. A deep, wave of desire. I've never felt less straight in my life. I shake my head, "Not straight," I say, "

definitely

not straight."

"But..."

"Want me to show you?"

He swallows hard. He looks confused, but he nods.

I take his hand and press it firmly against my dick. His eyes and his mouth fly open. I hold his hand against me and then I kiss him. The second my tongue finds his, my dick lurches. It lurches wildly, "See?"

He nods, but he still looks very uncertain.

"Okay," I keep holding his hand in place and reach down with my other hand, I grab his dick and stroke it. The second I touch him, the effect of it hits me. Blood rushes south with such force, my head spins. My dick grows so hard and so fast, it makes him gasp, "See?" I say again.

His free hand flies up to his face. He presses it up against his lips. He dips his head slightly. He's trying not to smile, but he can't help it. His eyes are dancing. He likes what I'm saying. He likes what he has in his hand. He likes it, the same way I like what I have in my hand.

I can tell.

Even though Andy was making coffee when I found him, we don't drink it. It goes cold. Ice cold. We get distracted. We get distracted all over the kitchen. All over the living room. We're back in his bedroom, by the time we come up for air. He looks at his watch.

"My God," he says, jumping up, "we're supposed to be studying."

It's Saturday morning, it's almost midday. My last exam is on Tuesday and Andy's is on Wednesday. It's crunch time.

"You're right. We should study. We should eat something, then we should study."

I feel lightheaded and shaky. We haven't eaten all day. That's at least part of the reason I'm shaky. The rest of the reason has something to do with the fact that Andy's naked. Totally naked. He's walking around without a stitch of clothing on. He's moving around, the way he does. Languid. Slow. Sexy. He's not covering himself with a towel, or trying to hide, the way he usually does when he gets changed in front of me. He's not self-conscious at all. What he is, is beautiful. His body is beautiful. Long, lean limbs. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. I already know his arms and his chest. I've been committing those parts of his body to memory for years. I'm used to seeing his legs. I see them when he swims or wears shorts. I haven't seen the rest though. Not like this. I've only seen flashes of the rest. Stolen glances. He looks different like this. Naked everywhere. All at once. I can't take my eyes off him.

He finds his sweatpants on the floor in the kitchen and pulls them on. I find mine, and get dressed, too. We make ourselves a sandwich and sit at the table and eat it. We don't talk much. We were both starving. Every now and then he looks up at me and his eyes smile like crazy. They glisten as he looks across the table. He looks away when I catch him looking and takes another bite of his sandwich. His lips curl up as he does it. He's trying not to smile, but he can't help it. I'm smiling, too. I can't help it either.

Afterwards, I ask if I can have a shower. He says, "Sure, the towels are in the cabinet and if you look in the top drawer, you should be able to find a toothbrush."

I shower and then search the drawer for a toothbrush. I find a little stack of them. They're the disposable toothbrushes you get on planes or in hotels. There are five or six of them, each individually wrapped.

I'm grateful to be cleaning my teeth, it's not that I'm not. It's just that as I do it, I can't help thinking of all the other guys who have stood here in this bathroom, and cleaned their teeth, like I'm doing now. I feel a sick sense of dread. Of fear. Andy never keeps guys around for long.

Is it going to be different with me?

I hope so. I hope it's different with me because it's me. But I don't really know this side of Andy and who knows what the future will bring? No one really knows. Especially not people who recently made a deliberate decision to choose the unknown.