Breaking Them Up (BoyxBoy) (On Hold Forever)

Keeping Us Together :::9:::

*Damien’s POV*

　

One…two…three. I hold my breath and wait less then half a second for the knock to resound, vibrating up my spine, due to my back being leaned against the door. I press the back of my skull flat against the cool wood of my door. What do I do?

“Damien” Seth’s voice chases me through the door. “We need to talk”

“I don’t think we do” I disagree, safely behind the door.

“I won’t leave” Some of his stubborness leaks through his voice “I refuse”

I frown. Annoying, but not exactly fatal. “Fine-stay out there as long as you-” the words dry up. Shit. Kyle said he wanted to come over today. And if Kyle were to come over and see Seth at my front door they might engage in conversation, which could lead to…

I fling the door opened. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving you”

He simply steps in. I want to look at his face, but I’m scared of what I’ll find there. Not hesitating, I turn away from him and stalk towards the kitchen. He follows silently behind me. I don’t look and I don’t hear the door shut or his footsteps, but I know he’s following.

I spin around once in the kitchen, eyes bravely seeking out his own. My blood turns to ice. Memory fragments… drunken daze… on a bed, the springs groaning, pleasure, pain, tears, want, hate, but most of all an echoing emtpiness in the pit of my stomach. Where love used to be.

I couldn’t look at him without flashes of naked skin dancing in my vision instead. Betraying Kyle, betraying Darcy. Feeling sick about treating my boyfriend so horribly and vegance against my dead sister. Something was wrong with me. And Seth’s face reminded me of who I was. I wasn’t a very good person.

I place my palms on the table, the support needed. “You wanted to talk so badly. Go ahead”

Kicking a puppy was the image that daned in my head. Seth really was such a puppy. The coldness in my tone, unlike how I’d ever spoken to him at any given time, seemed as harsh and cruel as a winter’s night, the indifferent ice creeping in on those not prepared for the blizzard.

“Damien… I don’t think that what happened that night….was a mistake” he reaches for me, but the second his fingers brush skin the coldness inside grows stronger, takes over. I slap his hand down, stepping back at the same time. “Don’t be like that. I think… we could be together”

“I used to think that to… actually, that’s all I used to think about. And you know that” I cross my arm, still not looking at him directly. “Why now? Why when I’m happy with someone else?”

“We made love-” he started.

I bite the end of his sentence off “No. Making love is for people in love. Me and you? We fucked. Me and Kyle make love” defensive. That was the word that best described me. I’d done wrong, but it took two to tangle, so I’d blame the other half of the problem for more then his fair share. I’d pour this boiling guilt, this self-hatred that steamed over at his very mention, onto him. Watch his nerves fry under its intensity, its inability to show a drop of mercy to its carrier. “I hate you”

I wanted to feel pity for him when hurt flashed in his eyes, but I’d gone cold. It was his fault really, just like everything else. How was I supposed to deal with this? I was to stressed out already. And all he cared about were his precious feelings. “You don’t mean that”

I look down. I didn’t mean it. But anger could feel like hatred, and it often did.

When I look back to him, I see something I hadn’t noticed before. A change in his expression. When he looked at me it was warmth and affection….as a friend. His look now betrayed his deepest feelings, and when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mircowave, it all came together, making sense.