Brendon doesn't come home.
He doesn't come home.
It's midnight, and I think he is pushing it a bit. It's one o'clock, and I start feeling sick. It's two, and that's when I know he won't be coming back.
So, this leaves me with a couple of options: a) Brendon went to Derek's, b) he went to Derek's, or c) he totally went to Derek's. He is spending the night there, but where exactly? Derek's couch? His bed? Is he lying in Derek's muscular arms, basking in the afterglow of monstrous sex?
I don't break down and I don't scream, but my heart does a pathetic, whining sound inside my chest. After this, my heart stomps its foot like a kid in a tantrum, throws itself on the floor (right above my liver), and begins to cry hysterically.
No. This is not happening.
I lie on my bed, laughing slightly with a bit of hysteria and disbelief. I did not spend all of last year daydreaming about Brendon for it to end like this. Brendon did not spend three years of high school staring at me for it to end like this. I might be Pete's bitch, this all might be a big set up, but is it really that insane that Brendon and I might be it?
I am jealous, and I am hurt, and I hate feeling like this. So no. This is not going to go on. I have to fix my breaking heart, take my fate into my own hands.
When the sun comes up, I know exactly what I am going to do. I have a whole speech prepared, word for word. Now I just need Brendon to come back. I am going on overdrive, my eyes sting, I am a little bit out of it. My eyes keep closing though I try to keep them open.
Brendon comes back in the early afternoon. I have done absolutely no work; instead I have simply walked in circles in our room. He comes back, wearing yesterday's clothes and looking rather refreshed. Once I am sure he is real, not a vision or a hallucination, I stop and open my mouth to give him a speech, a long, heart-felt speech, but then I spot the hickey on his neck. It's there, so visible, mocking me and laughing at me, and I forget the whole speech I had prepared. I simply stare at the telltale signs on Brendon.
Before processing my words at all, I ask, "Did you fuck him?"
Brendon gives me an infuriated look as he closes the door to our room. "You've got nerve," he snaps.
"Is that a yes or a no?" I ask with a bit of desperation.
"I am not answering that," he hisses at me. "What the fuck were you doing there anyway?"
"I was bowling."
"Bullshit."
"Did you sleep with him?" I repeat because I can't deal with the thought, the mental images of Brendon's body arching into Derek's touch.
Brendon's eyes flash angrily. "And how exactly is that any of your -"
"Because I am fucking crazy about you!" I snap, which seems to silence Brendon. "I didn't mean any of that stuff I said, that I wasn't into you, they were all lies! I've been up all night, going insane with the thought of you with that stupid jerk, so please, Brendon, for the love of god, take pity on me, okay?" I practically whine. "Just tell me and put me out of my misery! If you're with Derek now, then tell me. Because this whole pining away thing is not nearly as fucking romantic as they make it out to be in poems and films, and you are the most amazing, most perfect guy I've ever met, and okay, I am rambling now, I know I am! But I haven't slept at all, and you've got a hickey on your neck! So please... just answer the question."
Brendon seems speechless before he says, "No."
"No? No, you and Derek didn't...?" I ask, and he shakes his head. "Are you seeing him?"
