Buffy the Vampire Slayer Preferences + imagines/one shots

Xander - Secrets

gay xander and lesbian protagonist because I can!!
s3

It could have been worse. Granted, it wasn't great, but I'm here, in one piece. My heart's hammering but I'm still breathing, and the crescent-shaped blood on my hands is from my own pointy nails. 

Nobody has to know about it, it's something you don't talk about. It's humiliating on the surface, but beneath, it's crushing. It's an over-generalisation to think that all my future romantic encounters will end similarly, but it's a thought I can't get rid of. 

There isn't any point thinking about it. I said I'd help Xander with his homework tonight, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. 

He's frantically stuffing something (I presume to be magazines) under a pile of laundry when I arrive. 

"Hey Xan. Your dad let me in." I greet, pretending not to notice as I go down the basement steps.

He says, "Hey," and something sounds a little off. Like he's had a long day. He coughs and when he speaks again, he sounds back to normal, "Ready for some algebraic fun?!"

"As ready as I'll ever be. You remembered your compass this time?" 

He presses a hand to his heart. "I'm wounded at how little you think of me." he scampers over to his desk and opens the top draw. "It's right..." He rummages some more. "Oh." 

I pull out a compass from my satchel. 

He looks up, sees it and confesses, "I love you."

I laugh as I take a seat and we actually study. We study for an entire hour and forty five minutes, and I only think about her in the silent bits, when Xander does some scribbled working out. 

"If you make me find x one more time, I will combust, so... movie?" he smiles toothily and I nod. As he goes to pick out a film from his extensive collection, he says, "Thanks a lot though. I think I'm finally starting to get it. I might even scrape a C."

"Don't be so modest. I think you're on track for a respectable C plus."

"Haha." he deadpans. 

When The Karate Kid is on, I get bored. I've seen it so many times and I usually love a good rewatch but she's there, her face is there, stuck in my mind's eye. I want to scratch the insides of my eyelids to try and get her out. 

I asked her out. I can't believe I did it. I tried to make it casual but my voice was too serious and my stare was desperate. Her mouth opened and closed. (The mouth I had dreamed about on more nights than one.)  She'd said, "Oh my God, you're gay?" and then she laughed. "That's precious," she'd smiled and that was the only time I'd found that smile anything but pretty. It was cruel. "Babe, I know we're kind of friends but I can't be seen dead  with a fucking -"

"Hey, woah, what's wrong?" 

Shit. When did I start crying? 

"Sorry. Sorry. It's nothing."

Xander pauses the film. "Hey," he says again, softer. I furiously wipe my face but the concern in his voice has opened the flood gates. The tears keep coming. 

"I'm a mess. I'm sorry."

"You're not a mess! But look, I'm getting a little worried here. What happened? I won't judge. Pinky promise."

"Xander, I can't."

"Ok," he hugs me, "I'll just have to smother you, then."

He gets a watery laugh out of me and I hug him back. He's warm and familiar and I don't know how I'm going to bullshit my way out of this one.