Roommates

Roommate: 2

I don't know if this is because I'm used to writing third person POV, but I had an itching to write this story from Mitch's POV too and it was an interesting exercise for me to see if I could get the two sides to mesh. I wasn't sure if I should bother posting 'cause it's a bit repetitive, but here you go anyway.

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"No, stop defending him; he was completely out of line. You have nothing to feel guilty about. I can't believe you're feeling bad for simply kissing someone in your own home, Mitch." Esther rolls her eyes and stares fixedly at me through my phone screen. She's wearing her 'what the fuck' face. She doesn't get it. I'm not actually sure I want her to.

"That's not quiet what I meant, Es." I say quietly.

"Well what do you you mean?"

"I mean...ugh," I'm searching for another way to say this, because I know how she's going to react. "Because it kinda felt like I was being... like, unfaithful." I brace myself. Here it comes.

"Un-what? For fuck's sake, he's not your boyfriend; he's your roomate. Your very straight, weirded-out-by-two-guys-kissing, roommate."

"I know he's not my boyfriend; I'm not delusional. And I know what he said, and yes, he was really horrible about it - which is so not him and you know that - but you didn't see his face. Es, he looked like a kicked puppy. I felt almost like I'd hurt him, rather than offended him."

She's frowning at me. Actually it's more of a scowl. I instinctively pull away from my phone a little. "Mitch. I think you're projecting. Just because you're dumb enough to fall in love with a straight guy doesn't mean..."

"Now hang on a minute. That's a pretty fucking big leap." I've never said anything to indicate that. I've been very careful not to. "I'm not in love with him, don't be ridiculous"

She arches an eyebrow at me and gives me a withering look. "Be careful, Mitch."

I sigh heavily and nod, "Love you Es."

"Love you too Mitchy."

----

I'm nursing a glass of wine and rather unsuccessfully attempting to distract myself with tumblr when I finally hear his key in the front door. His footsteps echo on the hardwood floor and stop a few feet from the couch. When I look up I'm shocked at what I see. His eyes are red and his hair is a mess. He looks broken.

"Are you okay?" I ask and then almost wish I hadn't because he looks like he might burst into tears on the spot. I have to fight the instinct to stand up and pull him into the biggest hug and stroke his hair and... oh for God's sake Mitchell, get a grip.

When he finally replies it comes out croaky and quiet. "Mitch, I am so, so sorry. I was completely out of line. I had no right to say what I said. I'm really, really sorry."

And just like that he's forgiven. Bam. In an instant. I am so far gone. But he flat out ignored my question and he's clearly not in a good place.

"Okay?" I say questioningly, "Are you alright though?"

He hesitates, which means no, obviously.

"I'm fine."

Well, that's clearly a lie. But something's changed. He's not angry anymore, not even slightly; I can't sense any animosity. Only hesitance and confusion. What is going on in his head?

He runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm... look I'm working some stuff out, but I'm okay."

Another lie. He's so far from okay it hurts. "Do you want to talk about it?"