Unrequited


You think it's his smile that you first fell in love with. When he looks at you and smiles, your heart skips a beat even now, even all these months and days and hours later. You still remember the first time he smiled at you and you felt that way, and you suspect you always will. Part of you wants to tell him, to try and make him understand how much he means to you. You tried to tell him once, but couldn't find the right words, and everything you said came out backwards and awkward sounding, and he looked at you like you'd lost your mind. And when you think back now, maybe you had.

"Hey." He pokes you in the side and cocks his head, looking at you with clear blue eyes fringed with long lashes that rest gentlesoft against the sweep of his cheekbone when they're closed. You know that only too well, after countless hours spent watching him sleep, captivated by the rhythms of his breath, slow and steady as he dreamt of things you could only imagine. "You ok?" You nod, and he makes a small noise of contentment as he sits on the couch beside you, warm skin touching yours, flashpoints of heat along your arms, your legs.

"Ready?" It's his turn to nod now, and so you start the movie, the sounds of screeching car tyres and gunfire echoing in your head as you try and concentrate on the images on the screen. The colours flicker and light up his face in flashbright bursts, and you can't help but watch him instead of the television. He turns and sees you looking, and grins. "Not your thing? We could always watch something else."

You shake your head. "No. It's ok. I'm just...y'know. Tired."

"Then you should sleep." He reaches for the remote control and switches off the movie, sits up and stretches, runs fingers through his hair, over his face. Then he lays a hand on your arm, his skin warm against yours, and you can't help but shiver despite the heat. "And I should go, too." He looks at his watch. "Yeah, I really should. It's late and--"

"Chris'll be wondering where you are." You finish his sentence for him and smile, even though your face feels like it's going to shatter into a thousand pieces, jagged and sharp like the pain that slices into your belly whenever you think of the two of them together. You think you hide it pretty well though, all these months and days and hours later. You've had a lot of time to practise.

He turns to go. "Yeah. He will. He still gets a little. Y'know. Jealous." He laughs, a short embarrassed sound, and you turn away so he can't see the tears that are suddenly pricking at your eyes. "Which is silly, right? Because you and I, we're friends. That's all. But he...he just gets like that at times. And--" His voice trails off. "Well anyway. Next time you can pick the movie, since I apparently have no taste."

"It's a deal." You turn back round, and your voice is steady, everything's fine. It's all good. It's just great. You can do this. You've been doing this for so long now, it's like second nature. You just have to remember not to stop and think of what could have been, because once you start, you don't think you could ever stop.

You walk with him to the door, open it for him. "Night, Justin."

He stops and turns to look at you.

"Night, JC."

And then he smiles. That smile you always told him could get him anything he wanted. Anyone he wanted. And it did. You just never thought it wouldn't be you.



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