Skin and Bones (boyxboy) ✓

Chapter One

I stumbled forwards as a ghost brushed by me, proudly sporting a bright orange stain on his sheets, and almost tripped over Frankenstein's monster's shoes in the process. The costumes here were cheesy and ugly but the lack of effort had it's own charm. In the corner of the room was my closest friend Mark who had showed up covered in toilet paper, that was his costume, sellotape and toilet paper and the toilet paper wasn't lasting as long as the tape was so it was beginning to look more like he'd had an accident in the bathroom and ended up with more than toilet paper attached to his shoe.

I wanted to head over to him and make some sort of joke about him being the toilet paper fairy or something but when I looked in his direction and he saw me he turned away.

I frowned. So Zackary had got to him first. That said more about Mark than it did about Zackary though. I'd always known Zackary was the sort to say whatever it took to get what he wanted, I hadn't minded, he was handsome and nice to me and I'd never really held my partners to expectations higher than those.

And even though I felt some annoyance at the fact that clearly Mark had been told Zackary's version of our break up which I was sure villainised me to maximum, and Mark had simply taken him at his word, I still wanted to clear things up with him.

Of course I would, right? He was a friend, I wanted him to think well of me.

But the moment I took a step towards him I saw him narrow his eyes and he made a pivot, turning around and heading straight into the kitchen.

I couldn't tell if that was chance or he had been watching me out of the corner of his eye but I didn't care. I didn't care that they were roommates, he was close enough to me that he had no excuse to believe Zackary over me to such an extent that he wouldn't even allow me to explain myself.

So when I turned back around and walked away, coming to terms with the fact that this ridiculous end to my four year romance with that idiot had ultimately lost me more friends than it had ever been worth, I wasn't massively pleased.

The day prior.

"You're cold and you're selfish."

"You... I don't even know how you can say that. You should be begging me to forgive you right now and you're saying I'm the problem?"

"You don't actually care."

He was right, I didn't actually care. Somehow the fact that I had gotten home in the morning to see him in bed with another definitely naked man who was, at the time, cuddling my pillow with his ripped hairy chest, it didn't matter to me. It was a shock though. But in terms of a boyfriend to a boyfriend I knew I should have cared more, I watched enough badly acted soaps to know that I didn't care nearly as much as other people did about the people I dated.

"I do care." I lied.

"You're lying. And that's the problem, you never actually care, that's why I did this, that's why everyone you ever date will always do this."

"Why the h-"

"Testing boundaries, Lake, no one knows what the hell your boundaries are!"

"You're not-"

"You don't get mad when I flirt with people but you don't flirt with people but you don't care if I leave for a month and say nothing but you don't take down our pictures. If I broke up without this happening you'd probably say goodbye without a second glance. You don't care about anyone except yourself and you know what? That sucks. It really sucks. It sucks!"