Rating: Probably G
Original Date of Completion: December 2005
Pairing: Implied Erik Christensen/Ryan Whitney
Disclaimer: I don't own them. This is all fake and conjured in the confines of my demented little mind. Please don't sue me.
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Erik's POV
Sometimes it hurts, sitting across from him in the room, being so close to him, and not being able to touch him. I guess I got accustomed to doing it over the past year. After all, it was an every day thing; heck is was an every hour thing, he liked being touched. He always shivered when I touched the back of his neck, he always giggled when I touched his ribs. If I touched him anywhere below the waist, from pelvis to toes, he always growled and pulled me against him. It was a familiar routine, but I loved it. I loved him. I thought back then that he loved me, too. But then we got to training camp, and I realized he’d changed a lot more than picking up a summer tan.
I can’t put into words how much it sucked to see him that first day of camp, to try to hug him, and to have him push me away. That had never happened before, at the time I wasn’t sure how to react. I could’ve stayed in that confusion for the rest of my life if I’d left it up to him, he didn’t seem to have any intentions of telling me why he’d done that. But I’m not one for confusion, so I asked him what was up. And the answer he gave...well, let’s just say, I still sort of laugh about it, in the times when the hurt isn’t flaring up.
“I’m not gay.” He mumbled, then packed his bag and ran away from me like I was holding a gun on him. I stood there for a minute, trying to figure out if I’d heard him right. I knew I had, but it was shocking to heart it. I mean, this was a guy that was a pretty much strict bottom, who listened to Madonna and Whitney Houston all day, and kept stuffed animals on his bed. If that’s not gay, I’d like to know what is, so maybe I could find an actually gay guy next time I fall in love, instead of a “confused straight guy.” Because that really sucked, to not only lose this guy that I loved, but to be responsible for “turning him straight.” Talk about a shot to the ego.
That was then, though. I can laugh about it now. Seeing him leaving games with some overcompensating, dollar store whore, or watching him pick up some skanky puckbunny on the road just amused me now. I can picture them in bed together, and every time I see him rolling onto his back and hooking his knees in his elbows, like he always did with me, and the slut being really confused, or horrified by his hairy ass. The dumb broads never suspect him for a closet case, but I know he kicks them out of bed after he comes. He still checks out the guys in the locker room, and he leaves every shower after games or practices with his towel trying to conceal his hard-on. I don’t know how he could be happy living like that, lying to himself to so much, but he pretends to be. Much like I pretend to “accidentally” drop my towel every time he glances in my direction.
Sometimes it hurts not being able to touch him, knowing what we had is over, wondering if we ever really had anything to begin with. But it hurts more seeing him fight so hard to lie to himself, and knowing I’m the reason why. I really hope he figures out the truth one of these days, because as much as it hurts sometimes, as much as it sucks sometimes, I still love him. He’s still the only person I’ve ever loved. And I don’t think anything will ever change that.
But then again, I didn’t see change coming the first time. So who knows. Sometimes I’m just as unobservant as he is a poseur.
“Hey Crush, you coming?”
I glanced up to see Sidney, smiling and waiting at the door. . .
END
© 2005 Triple X
