Drabbles

Fool

Again it happened.

Why the fuck did it happen again?

Were there no meaning to the days they spent together practically in each other's pocket, working, laughing together, how their work become less of a job but more fun because the other is there?

Were there no meaning to the nights where it starts with a message and then a call which spans hours where dreams, wishes, fears, secrets were whispered into the quiet?

Were there no meaning to those smiles that shines brighter just for him, to those little touches whenever the other could, to those eyes searching for him when he comes into the room? Was that all in his delusional mind trying to make a mountain out of a molehill?

That is impossible. It couldn't be.

He refuses to believe so. Ignoring the rumour is easier when it is just whispers. Ignoring it when it is in front of him makes him a fool.

And he is never a fool.

So everything really means nothing.

Not when he is now with the woman who had broken his heart far too many times? One who had trampled that precious beating heart with her stiletto heels and ignored the hurt that is left behind when the said man grow more insecure eventhough he should have no reason to be?

The younger's eyes met his own, except for the slight widening of the eyes, no other obvious outward reaction but he know the other too damn well. He could see the tightening of the lips, the straightening of the spine, the shift of the body frame inwards almost protectively, as if he is afraid he will judge him for this decision.

He stepped out of the stifling room.

Enough already.

Not again.

No, he will not be a fool to repeat this cycle.