In Love With My Mobster Best Friend (mxmxm)

EIGHTEEN: TORN

Media: Liar Liar – A Fine Frenzy

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Coe's POV

I was up all night.

I listened to them make love outside my bedroom. As though I needed the reminder that Jared would never love me in that way, ever.

I listened to him whisper words of passion that I would never hear directed to me. At one point, I actually managed to convince myself that I needed this. That Jared was right to do this. Because if he had not done this, I would never have had the conviction to tell myself that I had to stop falling for him.

I listened as he sent her on her down the steps of our home once they were done. Then I wondered if I would be send down those steps tomorrow morning, when he decides that he wants nothing to do with me anymore, because I was so disgusting.

I tried not to puke at that thought.

Instead, I listened as he came back upstairs, retreating to his rooms without a moment's pause outside my room. Not even when he must know that I was in my room the whole time and I heard every bit of it. He didn't offer an apology or even an explanation at all.

That's how I know, for sure, that everything he did that night, was all a show just for me.

Round of applause of the riveting show that the almighty and ever charming Jared Jackson had just performed for a sole audience. His act was splendid. His art evoked feelings alright. Feelings of agonising misery. I would clap for him, if I had the energy to lift any part of myself off my bed.

I wondered if Jared had done this purposely in order to drive me out of the house. Was this his way of saying 'fuck you and fuck off'? Did he want me to leave this house without actually saying the words? I might be right, and by staying here was me being thick skinned and a leech, a leech with no backbone whatsoever. A gay spineless leech.

Just entertaining this idea gave me a headache that made me want to lob off my own head with a sword. Maybe I'll stab myself with the same sword first so that my heart would hurt less.

I wondered if I should spare myself the embarrassment and leave the house with my own two feet now, rather than wait to be thrown out on my ass. If it had come down to that, I'm sure Jared would say something that would quite literally rip my heart out of my chest. Do I really want to stay and endure that?

I stayed up all night just thinking.

I couldn't forget the sounds, the words and the images that were burnt into every fibre of my being, reminding me that I am nothing. I will always amount to nothing in Jared's heart. I couldn't even close my eyes long enough, before the images would haunt me, the image of Jared turning away from me when I tried to kiss him.

The sooner I understand that I was just a furniture in Jared's life, not meant to be anything more to him, the sooner I probably would get over the pain in my chest that was threatening to stop my heart.

I spent the night convincing myself that I was okay. That we were okay. That I merely had to face Jared and tell him that it was all a mistake, a joke, that it should be forgotten, and I will do not such disgusting act as to suggest that I wanted something more than friendship with him.

Either that, or confront him and ask him if me leaving would make things better.

I didn't sleep a wink.

I stopped crying altogether. I merely laid there in my bed, curled up, in pain and wondering if I could fool myself into thinking that my feelings for Jared were not romantic, but platonic. That my confession to him was all dreamt up and it never actually happened.