Never Held His Hand

Anger

Men are hot, Jermy never was against that fact, but, did he find them hot, he convinced himself that he didn't.

Andrew's girlfriend left him. No reasons were discussed, they just decided to end it. Jermy was a good friend, a great friend indeed, and that was the reason why he wasn't sleeping but was wide awake next to a naked Andrew, who draped himself over him. Andrew's eyes were puffed and Jermy felt bad to be happy. He wanted to be sad about how things ended between Andrew and his girlfriend, but he wasn't. Andrew's arms always felt like the place he would die in peace, but today, it burned, felt like the Jacuzzi that he wanted to immerse himself in, but also felt like every inch of his skin was burnt to brown. Maybe Jermy likes pain, and that might be the reason he stayed the night. Or maybe he liked Andrew. Jermy, once again decided to avoid the obvious answer and closed his eyes. He felt Andrew move, his skin started burning more, but he never breathed, never moved, just stayed still, like he always did. Andrew's touch became firmer, and Jermy's breath came out ragged. The burning that he felt was no longer pleasure, but just pain. He could physically feel his skin shout for him to move away, his lungs refused to let out any air till he did. Tears flowed down his cheek, but he felt no hands wiping them away. 

There was it, his limit.

He pushed Andrew away and stood up. Andrew seemed shocked but did the same. Jermy wanted to yell, scream, and hit him, he wanted to strangle him, wanted to stuff pillows over his face, but instead, he breathed. His lungs finally allowed him to breathe, and he did, took in all the clean air in the room and hoped it didn't smell like Andrew.

"What are we doing?" He asked, his voice hoarse, having no strength to talk. He was scared to know the answer but also wanted it. The fact it was them and not only Andrew angered him. What was he doing with Andrew, what was he feeling for Andrew, what was happening with Andrew? Thoughts filled dangerously enough to drown him.

Andrew stood there and spoke nothing, Jermy never got the answer, neither from Andrew nor from himself. Nobody spoke as Andrew got dressed and left the room for Jermy to never understand.

Shattering things felt good, but he knew that knowing the answers would have felt better.

He felt clueless and that angered him more, all he wanted to do was climb on his bike, go to Andrew, and bang on his front door till he answered. But, what happens after that? Will he punch him and demand answers, or will he hug him closely and beg for answers? Again, he felt clueless. Felt powerless as he slumped on his bed and cried. It wasn't fair, it didn't feel fair. As much as it hurts, he knows one thing now.

Friends always answer each other's questions. They weren't friends anymore.