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This is an original one shot I wrote, which I am quite proud of.
There is one sided slash here, but please don't flame me for that.
mrgreen
Mr.Brightside
The smoke burned his throat and lungs most uncomfortably. He coughed into his hand with a grimace and held back the tears that were pressing behind the eyelids. The taste on his tongue was nasty, to say the least, but he didn't quit. After inhaling a second time he was better able to control the urge to vomit or cough his lungs out. The smoke stung his eyes as he parted his lips to breathe out, and the blue of his orbs had become liquid, and not entirely because of the smoke.
He stared out at the roof tops without ever seeing them, directing his gaze at the nothingness that follows an absent mind.
Or so he wished- that he didn't have to think. Thinking was too depressing.
There was a reason he was out freezing his a** off at the balcony in the first place. The goose bumps covered the skin on his arms, and he rubbed them with the free hand before inhaling the cigarette smoke again. It stung not as much as it was uncomfortable. He cared not. Anything to get his mind off what was going on inside.
Who was inside.
“Damn.”
He groaned and pressed a palm to his eyes in order to lessen the pressure inside his skull. Damned tears, there was no way he was letting them out. Not here. Not now. Never. Tears meant admitting that he was jealous. No, in any case denial was a much better option. Better than facing the truth and confess what he felt.
The sound of a soft, female voice was filling the air, and he could hear the pearly laughter all the way out here even with the door closed. It was out of the questions to turn his head and look over his shoulder. Out of the question. He grit his teeth hard and took one last deep smoke filled breath before throwing the cigarette away. His eyes followed it to the ground. Half-wishing it was him he laughed softly and bitterly.
He couldn't look.
While knowing this, he couldn't help it. With tense shoulders and trembling hands he turned to look. Inside his head he could hear too well the rapid thump thumps. Fingers clenched the front of his shirt tightly.
Her nimble, girly fingers were digging into the soft, brown hair of the boy on top of her, messing it up as her mouth latched onto his. He could see their tongues rubbing against each other. Hands were stroking her sides urgently, coming to a stop at her hips.
So young.
So horny.
So greedy.
Their greed and lust for each other were written all over their faces. He could imagine the thin layer of sweat on their foreheads, the rapid beats of their hearts as they rubbed against each other, writhed.
God, he was going to vomit.
He looked away and sucked in a deep breath. His feet were itching to take a walk, to leave this bloody apartment and just walk the whole night without a destination. Walk until his feet were sore and his mind numb from the cold night. He couldn't. That equalled going through the living room, the same room that they were in, the very same room where they were tongue ******** each other and having their hands all over warm blooded bodies. It was so frustrating he felt like crying. The pressure increased, beating steadily inside his skull now, making it hurt.
He took a step back against the wall and slowly slid down it. The cold quickly seeped into his a** and spine until he couldn't feel it anymore.
This was so ******** pathetic; he thought bitterly and wished he had another cigarette. At least then he could pollute his lungs and stop thinking so much. Jealousy was in every fibre of his being, beating sharply and with intensity.
In his mind he could picture that perfect face, the curve of the lips as they formed an inviting smile. He could picture the brown curls and knew just how soft it would feel to run his fingers through them. He could recall the feeling of a warm body sleeping next to his own, not touching but remaining a temptation. The gentle, nearly inaudible sound of breathing that filled the silent bedroom they shared. Remembered how hard it had been to keep his hands to himself and not run them over the exposed stomach where the tee shirt had ridden up a little.
Sharing a room might have been a bad idea in the first place. Especially with the feelings he harboured. He'd never told anyone. It was shameful to be in love with another boy.
Yeah. Another boy.
He felt like a f**.
These feeling terrified him to the point of nightmares. He spent so much time worrying about Daniel finding out about his perversions that it caused him to sit bolt upright in bed at night, gasping for air, then curling up and weeping softly. Daniel never woke up, not even those times when he cried out as he came awake, or when he fell off the bed. No, his friend could sleep like the dead and never once stir (which probably was for the better). He couldn't imagine the embarrassment if Daniel woke up and found him crying in their bed.
Daniel could never, ever know.
Never.
And it hurt like a b***h.
He felt resentment toward the girl in the living room who was placing her hands all over that body, feeling its precious warmth, tasting those lips. She was probably one of those nice, friendly girls that everyone liked, with a nicely shaped body and good grades. He had acknowledged her as pretty, but couldn't even try to feel okay about her. Especially not since she was the first girl Daniel ever brought to their apartment.
His Daniel. The pure, innocent Daniel with the slightly crooked smile and the eyes that reminded him of a rabbit when he smiled. Daniel whom had brought a girl from his class to their home and let her invade their shared space. It had infuriated him, but the feelings never showed on the surface. His face had been a mask when he shook her hand, noticing how long and beautiful her fingers were, like the fingers of one that played the piano.
And he had known it then, that he could never measure up to a girl. He didn't have the nice shapes, his chin wasn't hairless, he wasn't soft and warm to touch. He was just a boy. A scrawny, tall boy with slumping shoulders and a blank expression.
There was no chance for him.
He didn't stir when the balcony door opened and Daniel was standing there. Didn't look up.
“You've been out here all this time? She's gone home now Jack, you can come back inside.”
He could hear the frown through the soft, worried tone of Daniel's voice. Of course he worried. It was his nature to worry about everyone. Even Jack. Ah, he was being unfair. They were best friends after all. Perhaps Daniel worried more about him than anyone else.
He could barely stand up; his legs were so frozen from the cold. When Daniel reached out his hand he took it without hesitation and let himself be hoisted off the ground. Their eyes never met, for he refused to look at that beautiful, childish face. Those blue eyes were like windows to Daniel's soul- he didn't want to read them. If he did he wouldn't find what he wished for. Once inside he rubbed his arms to regain some warmth, only now realizing how cold his body was. A large, grey sweater was hung over his shoulders, and he knew Daniel was smiling.
“You need to take better care of yourself, Jack.”
“Whatever.”
He didn't need this now. Definitely not now. Not after spending the evening being so ******** jealous and wallowing in self pity. Daniel placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off and quickly headed to their bedroom to escape the questions. If he pretended to go to sleep perhaps Daniel would forget about it tomorrow and leave him alone. Yeah, he was going to do that.
Without flickering on the light he tossed away the sweater Daniel had given him and pulled off his own. The pants and socks followed, and soon enough he was safe and curled up beneath the covers (whatever safe meant). His eyes were staring at the wall without really seeing it and it seemed that his eyes refused to get used to the darkness.
The door opened. He closed his eyes when Daniel came inside the room. The footsteps were slow and hesitant as they crossed the floor and came to a stop by the double bed. A creak of complaint came from the bed as Daniel sat down on it. He could hear the rustling of clothes being removed. His heart went twice as fast as he thought of turning around to look at his friend. He didn't.
His whole body was tense when Daniel came underneath the covers and lay just next to him. He could feel the warmth radiating from that body. It made him shudder.
“Are you mad?”
A simple, innocent question.
He didn't answer.
“I'm sorry if you're mad.”
He wanted to weep because he had made Daniel sad with his stupidity. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Daniel went silent. Of course he knew Jack was lying. He was the worst liar in history! He went stiff as a hand came to rest on his arm. Goose bumps appeared on his skin, and he shuddered under the touch. Daniel moved closer to him, and Oh God his heart was beating like a drumstick, until he could feel that warm chest pressed against his own cold, naked back. Soft, brown curls tickled his neck. He tried to repress the shaky breath that wanted out.
The hand slid down his arm, barely touching at all but feeling more present than anything else. Daniel sneaked an arm around his torso, clinging to him like a child.
“Don't be mad. I care about you too, Jack.”
He was squeezing his eyes so tightly shut that it hurt when lips were pressed to his shoulder in a light kiss.
“Nighty, Jack.”
The kiss and the voiceless whisper left his skin tingling. Wanting more. Warmth rose in his cheeks. Daniel stayed right where he was, pressed against his back. Not until he heard Daniel's breathing become steady and slow did he loosen up and relax a little.
The tears from earlier were pressing hard now, and he knew he would get one hell of a headache if he didn't let himself cry.
And so they came, silent tears of shame and hurt, of love and longing.
“Night, Danny.”
And Daniel would never know.
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