Strangers To More

Kiss

Steve's POV.

My face is getting closer to Eddie's. He leans into me as well. Our lips touch. His lips are so soft and plump. His kiss feels so good and I somehow find comfort in it. It's peaceful and calming. I suddenly feel Eddie's hands on my neck, his big cold rings send shivers down my spine. His hands in my hair. It didn't feel sexual, no. It felt like something real and genuine . It felt like drinking warm tea in the late evening, like a smile on a stranger's face when you give them a compliment and like petting every dog you see on the street. The moonshine is slipping into the bedroom through a halfway opened window. I'm scared to open my eyes. I don't want this moment to end. I don't want this, whatever this is to end. Why do I even feel this way. And why do I feel this way about him. I pull away from him quickly. What. The hell. Am I doing?

-Nah man, I'm not into that stuff.- I say realising my face is getting red again.
-Oh, alright.- I can see he's hurt.
-Im sorry dude, all of this was actually dare. I set it up with the jocks. We wanted to see if you're an actual faggot.- I lie looking away because I know I couldn't say that looking into his beautiful dark brown eyes.
-Did you. Is that true?- I can hear his voice trembling.
-Yeah. Yes it is.
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Eddie's POV.

How could he do this to me. I mean, I actually thought someone cared about me for once.
-Get out.- I say quietly trying to blink away the tears. He gets up and starts packing up his things.
- Get the fuck out; I repeat. I can't stand to look at him. He gets out and closes the door. I wait for the sound of my front door closing. He's out.

I break down. Why does this keep happening to me? Why me? Why always me? I'm crying. Again. Why him? Why him? I really thought I'm going to finally have a friend. A friend who does not call me a fag or a freak. A friend who actually listens and cares. I didn't want for one more person to just use me. I am in a middle of a hardcore breakdown when I feel the rage inside of me. Sadness turns into anger and I start screaming. Not another one. Not again. Not again.
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Steve's POV.

I get in my car and try to get my keys. My hands are shaking and the keys slip out of my hands for the first few times. My engine turns on and I drive away. I turn the music on all the way up. Can't even hear my own breathing. Tears start rolling down my face.

Why do I feel this way? Why him? Why can't I like Nancy, or Sandra or Monica or Rachel? Why fucking him? And why do I try to hide it? Hide it from myself. Hide it from him. Why? My whole face's red. It's getting hard for me to see the road. I will the tears of my face and try to calm down. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out.  I shut of my engine and go to my house, not even caring about all the stuff I left in the car. Why do I feel bad for him? Why did his kiss taste so good? Why? I open my bedroom door and fall onto the bed. I need to sleep. I need to distract myself from this.
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An hour passed and I'm still thinking about him. I kind of want to go and apologize, but at the same time, at the same time I just want to let it go. I want to go to sleep, to wake up again in the morning like nothing happened, like I'm still the old me. Like I haven't just kissed a guy. The freak. Like I haven't felt anything. Like I didn't like the way his lips felt on mine, like I didn't like the way he caressed my hair while kissing me, the way he held my neck. I hope it's just a dream. I hope it was just a dream.
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Eddie's POV.

Three hours passed after he drove away. My whole pillow's wet from the tears and I keep flipping it around before realising it's all drenched. I toss the pillow onto the floor and lay on my back staring into the ceiling. My bedroom is light up by the moonlight and I start crying again.