Not Mine and Not Yours.

You’re in his arms and you should be happy but instead you’re a wreck and everything is coming apart around you and all you can do is hold onto him and sob like an emotional disaster. You guess in a way, you kind of are. He’s holding you but you can’t splutter out your gratitude. You can’t say ‘Gee, thanks, Dave, for always being there for me even though you can be a totally ridiculous prick.’ or maybe even ‘Hey, I think I might like you because you’re so great thank you.’ or anything at all.

It’s kind of miserable to look at.

You wish you were stronger. Or at least had a better self-confidence.

Instead you repay Dave’s reasonable, actually nice, behavior by being a blubbering mess.

You just bury your head further into his shoulder and all he can do is hold you and try to calm you down but you just can’t.

Dave holds you like he feels the same way you feel for him but you’re both painfully aware that it’s not going to happen. You established that; he’s straight, you’re straight, and this is a fleeting crush that kind of puts an enormous amount of strain on your poor heart. However, you still pretend. You pretend and hold onto this illusion that he’s yours and you’re happy and it’s sweet and you aren’t crying, but you are crying, and the illusion is lost.

One second you’re swept up in the sweet gesture and him and just Dave and the next you’re being brought back to reality, suffering what feels like whiplash.

“I- Jesus Christ, I’m sorry...Shit, John,” He mumbles into your hair between your broken, choked sobs. It hurts. It hurts so much and he will never get it.

You shake your head because there isn’t anything you can say. Because your name is John Egbert and he will never feel the same way.