not a love story

it is not a love story

It was a few minutes passing three a.m when he heard the knock on the door. He turned on the small lamp on his drawer beside his bed and checked the time. He sighed when the person in front of the door knocked again. He didn't need to check the door viewer to see who it was. He knew that knocking, he knew the way that knuckle of the index finger's knock on his wooden door. He knew who it was.

So he got up from the bed, walked to the main door of his flat and opened it just to see the person he knew he will see, standing in front of him.

They didn't talk, they didn't even say a "hi", they just looked each other for a few minutes in compelete silence before the red haired one held the blonde one's hand and pulled him inside gently. He kept pulling him till they arrived his bedroom. He lied down on his bed and pulled the blonde one towards himself slowly, making him lay beside him then wrapped his arms around him in a protective way. Other boy's face was on his chest, his soft, pale, porcelain like cheeks were pressing on the other's beautiful, tan skinned collarbone.

They still didn't talk. They just lied there, in each other's tight and familiar embrace. Saying nothing, doing nothing, knowing thats all they need. The comfort, the peacefullness, the sweet warmth that they found in their embrace. That was all they needed.

They weren't boyfriends, or lovers, or friends with benefits, or best friends,they weren't even sure if they could call each other "friend" cause friends would call each other and keep in contact all the time, not just when they need each other. Right ? So no, they weren't friends too.

They were just two lonely, suffering people that found comfort in each other's embrace...

Thats all they ever were...

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"Today she was different" the blonde boy talked into the sweet, vanilla smelling skin under his cheeks "she acted like she actually liked me back"

The other boy was just listening and humming when he felt like it was needed. He started caressing other's arm gently when he heard how his voice cracked and went small in his next sentence.

"But it all was just an act....she was...she was playing with me again..."

He held tightly onto the cream colored, soft, silky pyjama top under his hands.

"But she still invited me to her bedroom, to her bed, to her....to herself..."

Now the red haired one was caressing his hair tenderly but still didnt say a single word, he was still silently listening the soft but small voice of the other boy's.

"At times like that she looks like she likes me too. Maybe cause she feels so high and thats why her smile seems so sweet. I don't know. But i...i want to believe that there is a chance that she can love me back...but i know it is a hopeless hope...i know she can never love me back...i know she "wouldnt" love me back even if she can...i know she just uses me. My love for her, my money, my body, everything of me...but when i feel her skin on my own, when i feel her breathe on my ear, when i hear her voice comes out so sweet, only for me in that moment...i feel like she does...love me..."

The boy who was listening silently till now kissed the teary eyed one's forehead softly and whispered a sweet,calming "it's okay"

He knew this was all he needed to hear in that moment. He didnt need those empty comforting words or the "you can find better girls than her"s or "stop being pitiful and leave her already". No. He just needed an "it's okay". And the boy who was holding him was aware of it. He knew it. Better than anyone. Even better than the boy in his arms.

The blonde one just gave him a small smile as if he meant to say "thank you" then burried his face on his chest and cried his heart out, sobs getting muffled by the broad, big chest that he is pressing his face into.