I fall back on my bed. My heavy, desperate breathing makes it sound as if I've ran a marathon (which I couldn't possibly have, considering I feel faint after running for, like, 10 seconds). Tears try to force their way out of my eyes by stinging as much as possible, but I'm pretty sure I'm not justified in crying.
I mean, no, I don't think Sam's right. Still, I should be able to take some criticism, right? I'm 22 years old and even if the criticism sounded harsh, I have to take it.
He's not wrong with me being a selfish fucking idiot. Maybe he thought that from the start. He might've hated me the entire time. I never had a shot.
Well, he's straight, and he has a girlfriend. Of course I never had a shot.
"So you admit you're gay?" God lies on Kell's bed, legs aligned with the wall and head turned to me. My neck aches and all the muscles in my legs stretch just thinking about it.
"You know, there's like, millions of people out there you can talk to," I say.
"And you're the funniest." He grins. "Well, not funny in the traditional sense, but, you know, so stupid it's funny. How does one manage to fuck up that badly in so little time? I mean, Sam didn't seem to hate you that much just the other day."
I turn to the wall, knowing full well it doesn't help because God, of course, knows everything, and if I start crying, he's going to mock me no matter what. "I guess we just see things differently."
"You just let him talk over you."
"Well, I didn't want to—"
"You didn't want to make him hate you?" God chuckles. "He's hated you from the start, Aiden. Didn't we already conclude this? That tiny conversation only made him tolerate you for a few hours because you showed your absolutely best side, but that's fake, and we both know it. In reality, you're a bad person."
One tear falls. Why am I crying? Now that I think about it, I don't know. Because he yelled at me? He didn't even yell, just... used an angrier, slightly louder tone than usual.
"You're fucking pathetic, Aiden. If you were going to cry either way, you could've just argued from the start. Now he thinks you're a little bitch who can't stand up for himself." God sighs. "Pathetic, man, seriously. Say he was gay. Hell, say he was so desperate for a relationship he'd take someone like you in a heartbeat. Do you think he would? After that conversation?"
"I fucking get it, okay? I fucked up. I'm a fuck-up. We've known this for pretty long, it's not new, you don't have to rub it in."
"But it's funny."
The door opens. I can't see God disappear, but it's like I can feel his presence evaporate, and I can breathe again. Kind of. Not really.
There's not a lot of people who would randomly open that door, only, you know, Kell and I, so I already know it's Kell. Still, I recognize the way he open the doors and how his steps sound by now, even if it's only been a couple of weeks.
I can't have Sam, but at least there's Kell.
He closes the door. I dry the few tears that have fallen and turn to him.
"I wouldn't talk to Sam if I were you." He pulls his shoes off, grinning. "He's pissed."
"Oh, yeah, I know."
Kell gives me a longer look, hopefully not noticing how I usually only have red eyes because of weed, not a runny nose too. "Wait, he's pissed at you?" Nope. Apparently that runny nose wasn't so subtle.
"It's good." I sit up, as if that'd prove anything.
"Why is he pissed at you?"
I'm about to shrug, but, I mean, what's the point of lying? Kell's the one who asked for drugs so he can't possibly get mad at me for giving them to him, right?
Still, I could be guilting him.
At this point, I just... I guess I feel too sad to really take that into account. "He didn't like that I gave you weed."
"Oh." Kell nods slowly, and goes over to my bed to sit next to me. "Well, you know, Sam just... cares about me, I think, but at the end of the day, it's my choice, so..." He sighs. "Listen, if you want me to, I'll go talk to him. I'm just saying, though, that Sam tends to get pissed off one day and be super sweet and apologetic the next. And trust me, he only gets pissed at people he likes."
I furrow my brows. That doesn't sound very logical.
"Or, well," Kell says, "he only expresses that he's pissed if he likes someone. I think he just needs to know that he'll be listened to, kind of, so I'd take that as a good sign."
"That he raised his voice and said I was a fucking idiot?"
Kell's eyes widen. "He did?"
"Maybe a bit more in a general sense, but..." I shrug. "You know what? A lot of people hate me. It doesn't really matter. He's probably right, I mean—"
"No, listen, you're not an idiot. Everyone's bound to do and say some stupid and embarrassing shit when they're high as fuck all the time, but that's funny stupid, not stupid stupid, and I don't think Sam disagrees with that." Kell holds his arm out. Although it feels a bit, um, gay, I shuffle a bit closer, and lets him lay his arm around my shoulder. I mean, I've done this with my friends. Thing is, they're either straight, or they're taken. Kell is neither.
"And Sam doesn't hate you," Kell says, "I swear he doesn't. I know he's a bit difficult to get, and, you know, if his temper is too much for you then that's fine, and I don't blame you for being hurt by that, but..." He chuckles. "He's going to kill me for saying this, but he definitely likes you. I've known him for almost ten years, so trust me, I know when that happens, because it's super rare and super apparent."
Yeah, I don't believe that. How the fuck could someone like Sam ever like someone like me?
Correction—how could anyone ever like someone like me?
"Yours and Sam's friendship is going to be fine, I swear," Kell says. "Seriously, I'll talk to him if you want me to. You shouldn't take the blame for this. Like, I mean, it really is my choice."
"It's fine." I straighten up, silently telling him to get his arm off me because it's starting to make me feel like a gross homosexual.
Which I am.
Because I was just crying about a guy hating me.
And he happens to be hot.
And I happen to want to kiss him.
And he happens to hate me.
And man, that fucking hurts.
