I could feel Anthony's chest rising and falling against mine. He slept peacefully, whereas I lay awake, the full moon lighting up the quiet room. These past two weeks seemed like a mirage. Anthony's love seemed to be a figment of my imagination. He couldn't want me, nobody ever seemed to want me. I didn't even want myself.
I looked down at his face, which was nuzzled against my neck, his lips soft against my smooth skin. I felt the urge to wake him, and I gently shook his shoulder, whispering in his ear. I wanted to know why he wanted me.
After many unsuccessful tries, I eventually awoke Anthony. He sat up slowly, rubbing two fists against his eyes. He looked over at me, his pale skin illuminated by the rays of white light that streamed through the window.
"Whats... What's going on, babe?" He asked, slurring his words a bit. His sleepy voice was sexy, I have to admit.
"Why do you want me?" I was getting straight to the point, I didn't want to dance around it.
"Jesus fuck, Ian, you woke me up at 2 A.M to ask me that?" Anthony was mostly awake now. He shifted his body so that he was sitting facing me, his legs crossed. I placed my hand on his knee, and looked up at him. The second i did so, Anthony's anger melted away, and a gooey look crossed his face. It was pure, unadulterated lust.
"Why do you want me?" I asked again, nudging my knee against his. Anthony bit his lip, and looked down at his lap.
{Anthony}
"Why do you want me?" Ian asked for the second time, pushing his knee against mine.
The second he asked, a million answers rushed through my head.
He has beautiful eyes, ones that I could get lost in. He's shorter than me. His hair, no matter how much I make fun of it, is perfect. His hands fit mine perfectly. He's a good fucking kisser. He never ever fails to make me laugh. His stubble I mean wow. He has a cute sense of style. He's such a dork, and I love it. He's so real with me. We've been best friends since sixth grade. He;s seen me at my darkest times. I love him. More than I love myself.
But of course, I couldn't ever tell him any of that. I hesitated when Ian asked the question, and he noticed. His face crumpled a little bit.
"Why?" He asked again. But I was at a loss for words. There was too much to say. I was afraid to spill it all. I stayed silent, looking down at my lap. When I looked up again, Ian's bright blue eyes suddenly weren't so bright. They were cloudy.
"Ian..." I reached out my hand to his, but he jerked back, pushing himself against the curved headboard. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came to me.
"Anthony.." He said, his voice breaking a little bit.
"No, Ian, I..." It was too late. He was scrambling to get dressed, pulling on my shirt and his sweats. He gathered his keys and phone from the bedside table and stalked out the door. I jumped out of bed in only boxers, following him to the living room.
'IAN!" I yelled. I didn't give a shit if the neighbors heard at this point. He was opening the front door, his back turned. He left, storming down the steps to his car. I trailed behind him, repeating his name over and over.
He sat in his car for a moment, watching me as I shivered on the porch.
"Ian, please, come back. Come inside." I was begging him, tears beginning to flow freely down my cheeks.
"I'm not coming back in. You don't want me. I'm not even sure why. Fuck you, Anthony. Fuck you for making me believe you when you said you loved me."
I was stunned for a minute. Then I was angry. I began screaming as he started driving away.
"Ian! I want you more than anything. I love you more than it is imaginable but if I told you all the reasons why, you'd be scared. You'd be fucking terrified." Ian stopped the car at the end of the driveway. But he didn't get out of the car.
"Ian, I live for you. But clearly, you don't give a shit."
He heard me too. I could see the tears through the window pane. Then he stepped on the gas and sped away.
