I Don't Love You

It Was Once A Dark Lonely Summer's Eve

"I hate this movie," He remarks, but a small smile is still forming on his pale lips. He glances over at me and quirks an eyebrow. "How the hell do you actually like this shit?"

"Simple," I reply, bouncing on the mattress and shoving a finger toward the remote. "It's amazing. Now turn it on, bitch."

Gerard groans again, but grabs the remote and hits play.

There's a vague sense of deja vu about this, like I've been here before. I've said these words, I've seen those expressions. An ominous air hangs around me, like a breeze that tickles my skin, sending shivers down my spine, but no goosebumps arise. And there's a minute section of my brain that realizes this is a dream, but I do nothing to wake up. Because dreaming is the only way I'm ever going to have this feeling again; This weightless, happy, carefree entity that seems to ball in my stomach and spread to my fingers and toes.

I can't help but watch Gerard as the beginning scene plays across the screen; It's simple fuzz on the television for all I care. The movie isn't an important part of this memory, this recurring dream of that dreadful night that started a series of unfortunate events all spiralling and sending my life spinning out of control.

Gerard glances up at me after a minute, catching me staring and smirking a little. "What?"

I bite down on my lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, but I feel nothing in the dreaming state. I'm shaking again, just like that night. My heart is pounding too hard against my ribcage and I feel like I might throw up. "I have a confession," I admit. My voice trembles with an anxious excitement. "It's kind of hard to just spit out, you know? But... I think..."

Gerard watches me with a patient, curious gaze. It feels like there's a lump stuck in my throat, my mouth suddenly dry and I lick my lips. "You think...?" He prompts.

His hazel eyes seem to be staring right through me, past the layers of skin and bone straight into my core. Like he sees something that no one else does, and I shake my head. "I don't think," I blurt out. "I know. I fucking know..."

But Gerard still doesn't understand. I barely understand anymore. I can't seem to comprehend anything beyond the look in his eyes, the feeling in my chest, the desire and the desperation and the fear. And I close the distance between us. My lips meet his in a what I remember as a slow, tentative kiss. The moment drags on for me, though it must only last two seconds. It's enough to have my lips tingling and my mind spinning and my stomach clenching because that's the moment that I did know.

Gerard pushes me away, his eyes wide. He's speechless, which gives me the time I need to swallow the taste of him and release a heavy breath. "I fucking know, Gee. I'm in love with you."

But then he's shaking his head. His expression turns to one of utter disgust and he's stumbling out of the bed, away from me, leaving the mattress cold in his absence. He wipes a hand across his mouth, erasing the taste of the kiss, and I can feel my heart sink once again. Just like that night. "What the fuck is your problem, Frank?!" He demands. He's suddenly furious. "You're a fucking faggot now?"

The scene around me changes, swirling around his face as everything else is lost in the dark. All I see is his disgust, his absolute horror, and his words echo through my dream, shocking my body and making me feel numb.

Fucking faggot...

Fucking faggot...

I'm jerked upright in bed. My bare chest is covered in a sheen layer of sweat and my heart is pounding audibly in my ears. I feel close to tears, but I manage to swallow them down and let out nothing more than a near silent exhale. Glancing over to Bob's side of the room, I see the uneven outline of his body under the sheets, but the darkness distorts it too much to see details. I can tell he's still asleep and silently slip out from under my own blankets.

Down the hall, I lock myself in the bathroom. The house is dead quiet this late at night-- I don't know the exact time, but the sky is still black as pitch letting in only the silver glow of the moon. The memory of that night is burned like a scar into my mind, swollen and obvious no matter what I do to erase it. It haunts my dreams on occasion, just like tonight, and deprives me of sleep. Bob knows I still recall it from time to time, but says nothing when I do; He knows it's painful for me, but it's more than that. It's infuriating. It pisses me off that I professed my love to Gerard, and he rejected me. He ruined my life and he doesn't even realize it. He doesn't care enough to.

And what pisses me off the most is that I can't bring myself to stop caring.