You're spread out on his bed, with him ontop. You're both red in the face, panting. Eyes filled with lust. You're only wearing a mini skirt and tank top - he hates when you dress like this, except when you're like this, he says you'll get raped when he's not around, but you know that's just his way of caring - while he's wearing pants and a t-shirt.
For now.
You're desperately trying to rip his shirt off.
You're kissing with need and desperation.
You need this.
This is not the first time. This is a regular thing.
He's an addiction. You can't stop. You need him. He's your own personal cigarette. Only he brings stress, rather then relieving it.
And you can't stand it. But you can't stop it, either.
Being near Derek was like fire. It's nice and warm.
But in the end you get burned.
Touching Derek was like a puppy. It's so soft and sweet.
But in the end you get bitten.
Kissing Derek was like eating chocolate. It was amazing while it lasted. It tasted great.
But in the end you got fat.
It's all the same in the end. You get hurt somehow. Badly.
Sex with Derek was like being in the middle of a war. And you were the soldier. You had to fight for dominance. Survival. You needed to win. He's challenging you. And you love it.
You can't stay away. You can't run, you've already tried. But he always finds you. Pulls you back. There's no escaping it. No way out. But god, you wish there was. Because that's all you want. An out.
It always hurts. And there's nothing you can do about it.
It's always been a game with you.
The silent game. You're both silent about it. The dirty deeds you do. When it's done, it's done. You don't speak of it. You're even more silent bout the feelings behind it.
Hide and go seek. You hide your emotions. Your pain. He seeks your attention. And you seek his.
Tug of war. He pushes at your limits. Your temptation. Your expectations. Your everything. You pull away.
Tag. You run away and he chases after you.
No matter the game, it's all the same. It's back and fourth.
It's a desperate, desperate game. And no one wins. Because you both lose each other. You're both in pain.
The worst part is, you have a boyfriend and he has a girlfriend. But you don't even feel guilty, but when you think about it, it's okay. Because you feel pain, hurt, jealousy, rage, self-pity, and every horrible emotion there is. So - really, it's worse then cheating or feeling guilt. It all evens out.
Max.
Yes, Max. The very same Max you dated in high school. After your second year of college you find out he transferred here. You, of course, get back together.
It's not that you don't like him. You really do. He's perfect. He's smart and a football star. Bound to get an amazing job and become rich or famous, depending whether he becomes a doctor or a professional athlete. He treats you right. Gets you everything you could ever want. He doesn't pressure or fight with you. He defends you. No matter what, he's on your side. Even if you're wrong. He's considerate and sweet. He loves you.
But that's the problem.
He's too perfect. Something's missing.
Derek on the other hand is your polar opposite. He's a stubborn, arrogant, idiot. He treats you like shit and you know it. He knows it, too. You fight over everything. Even something as small as a pencil. But he does have his moments. He's sweet, caring, and very protective. He does care. But he doesn't love you.
And it hurts.
Sally.
It turns out her Grandmother got sick so she dropped out of college to take care of her. Coincidentally, and unfortunately, they live only twenty minutes away from you and Derek.
He loves her. You know that. She's beautiful, smart, kind, generous. You can't really hate her for it. You like her. You really do. Everyone does. You're just jealous. She's you with blonde hair, of course.
It all started when he saved you from Truman.
The night it happened. You were ballin' your eyes out and he knew it. Surprisingly, he came to check on you. You started yelling at him. Like it was his fault. But he ignored your cursing and sat down on your bed and hugged you. He rubbed your head and hushed you until you calmed down. Then one thing led to another. He said he didn't want to take advantage of you. You said you didn't care.
He knocked on your door, "Case?" he spoke softly.
"Go away, Derek," you whimpered.
He ignored you, like always, and sat next to you.
"I said go away."
"Why?"
"Because - "
"He cheated on you. Come on, Case - " he didn't get to finish because you cut him off. You were livid. How dare he say that? Couldn't he tell you were upset? Or did he just not care?
You sat up, looking him right in the eyes, "How dare you? It was all your fault, anyway!" you say, fully aware it wasn't. At all.
He didn't say anything. He was taken back. You both knew it wasn't his fault. But you could tell by his face. He was confused.
"Yes, it was your fault! If you didn't make out with that blonde the whole time then," he rose one eyebrow, "You would've been with Vicky, keeping her occupied and he would have been with me."
You were making no sense. He knew that.
He rubbed his temple with his fingers, "Spacey, listen to yourself. You're making no sense."
"It makes perfect sense," at this point you started crying, "you're just mad b- bec-ause I - I'm right and... and ... I - ."
He pulls you into a hug. You stop talking and cry into his chest.
"Shh, Casey. I got you. It'll be okay," he soothes as he rubs your head in comfort.
You stay like this for a few fifteen minutes. And you don't know why, but you kind of like it. Being in his arms. You feel protected. Loved.
When you finally stop crying he says, "What happened to Casey McDonald?" you don't answer, "The one who doesn't give a damn. The one who would never stoop so low as to change for a guy, anyone for that matter and would never cry over a guy. And especially never look for her brother for comfort."
"Step - brother," was all you managed to say as you back to sit against your wall. He followed, sitting beside you.
He chuckled.
"Derek?"
"Hm?"
"We've been through a lot, right?"
"Yeah? We're family."
"What would you say if I didn't want it that way?"
"W - what?" he said, his eyes tinted with hurt.
"What if I didn't want you as my brother."
He didn't say anything, but his pained eyes spoke for him.
"What if I wanted more?" you pressed on, getting up to shut the door.
"Friends - "
You cut him off with your lips crashing into his, but he pulled away.
"What are you doing?"
"I was kissing you."
"That's called taking advantage, Case. I don't do that."
"But you do want it because I don't care about 'taking advantage'."
"You will tomorrow."
"Is that a challenge, Venturi?"
"Maybe."
"Then game, set, and match," you said, crashing your lips onto his again.
This time, he didn't pull away.
That memory makes you cry and smile at the same time. Smile because he was so sweet and caring. Cry because that's when it started. And because it meant nothing to him.
It was rebound sex. But not anymore. It formed into something much, much more.
You sat up, "I like Max."
"I like Sally," he came closer, falling on top of you. He cupped your cheek with his hand and kissed you.
And that was the key word; like. Neither of you would admit it to the other or even yourself, but it was the key word. You liked Max. You liked Sally. But you love Derek. And You love Casey. You won't admit or do anything about it for many reasons. Pride and fear being the main one's.
You want the other to admit it because it's still a game, no matter what. And you can't lose. If you lose, the other wins. You can't have that. Because you're Derek and Casey. Casey and Derek. You can't let the other win.
You can't do it because you can't be rejected. You just. Can't. You know you love each other, but there's a part of you - a tiny, itsy-bitsy, almost insignificant part of you that fears the worst. Fears that you're not enough, no good. Not good enough. This tiny, itsy-bitsy, almost insignificant part of you - feeling, isn't really all that tine, itsy-bitsy, or insignificant. Because if it were, you wouldn't be in this position - have this feeling. This tiny little feeling takes over and causes you feel this way.
Fear and pride are your down fall.
And God, did it hurt. It was supposed to feel good. Amazing.
And it did. But there was always the pain. It's unbearable. Sometimes you think it's not worth it.
You wished it didn't happen like this. But it did.
At this point, you both thought you tasted salt. But you brushed it off.
But shouldn't.
You were crying, without even noticing it. You were immune at this point. Because you were hurting.
Both of you.
But he continued to kiss you through the pain because you needed this. He needed this.
And through the pain, it -
You can't even finish that sentence. No one could. You just know through the pain, there's something. You just don't know what. Neither of you do. No one around you does. No one understands.
And through the pain, you keep kissing. Desperately. Just like that those words were forgotten. Just like that the passion began. Just like that you fell in love.