The others

Redheaded Regrets

"Hey bru!" Byron shouted from his room as he heard the front door shut to a close.

"Hi." Joe responded solemnly in return. His head in his hands as he dragged the suitcase into the house, leaving it by the stairs before shuffling slowly to the sofa where he flopped down onto the grey cushions.

"Tough day?" Byron questioned with an unassuming joviality to his voice as he walked casually into the living room, his eyes buried onto the screen of his phone. Only snapping his eyes off of the machine, at the realisation that his question had been given no indication of an answer, a few beats later.

"Joe?" He questioned further as he looked over at Joe's face down position on the sofa. "You okay buddy?"

Once again making no comment other than a slight groan, one which was muffled by the sofa cushions, Byron wondered over to him and sat down on the opposite corner. His eyes transfixed by the seemingly lifeless figure of Joseph Graham Sugg who continued to bury his face into the furniture, whilst his body remained a dead weight.

"Joe!" Byron yelled, thankfully gathering the attention of the older man, causing him to raise his head from out of the depths. His skin was red and blotchy, and there was an immediate sense of concern and fear evident within the brunette's eyes. Something that did not go unnoticed by the South African.

"Buddy what is going on with you?" He questioned. "Was it just a bad day with Dianne?"

Joe cringed slightly at the name. The truth was that it wasn't a bad day with Dianne. In fact, in a very bizarre way it was really quite the opposite. The actions they had shared last night and the wide, unwavering smiles on both of their faces once they had finished their activities proved that much. But as he played the last 24 hours in his head, Joe couldn't help the wave of emotions that followed.

Underneath it all he was undeniably happy. He got to spend the night with a beautiful woman who wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with her after all. Yet smothering that feeling of happiness was heaps of confusion, guilt, regret and an unintended air of sadness.

Looking up a little more, Joe took in the way his roommate was staring at him. His head tilted a little suggesting his confusion at the rather odd way he had come home that evening, and the unblinking nature to his big blue eyes.

"I... I-uh... umm... I don't... ah..." Joe stuttered as he sat himself up a little better. His mouth dry as a desert, and a lump in his throat so vast that it was as if his own body was trying to suffocate him before he said anything too stupid.

"Okay, I don't know what that means." Byron counteracted sarcastically. The same, deep laugh Joe had heard hundreds of times before emanating from his lips. An action which resulted Joe to stare blankly back at him, a clear sign of how unimpressed he was.

"Seriously Bro what is up with you?" Byron questioned after a beat, clearly reluctant to give this a rest.

Joe sighed once again.

He knew that Byron was bound to be curious at what caused the erratic nature which Joe was just too tired to try and hide. He knew that eventually he would need to get the monumental fuck up he had caused off of his chest. And if there was one thing that Joe felt as if he needed more than anything else right now, it was some advice.

Clearing his throat and averting his gaze to the floor, Joe clasped his sweaty hands together. His leg bouncing anxiously as he thought about the best way to let the not so little secret slip by.

"Okay... Before I tell you Byron, I need to make some things clear." He spoke timidly.

"Sure, whatever."