He was my best friend, believe it or not. And most people choose not to.

It was a bit of a neurotic relationship, believe it or not. But I chose to believe this- because it was. And heagreed, and his opinion alwaysmatters, even if it's not based off of fact, like everything I say is.

Of course, I was the least bit offended when someone of the cul-de-sac whispers a joke about homosexuality as we passed, but of course, he was offended. He'd pick a fight. But I didn't care, as long as it was fine but the nighttime. And mostly it was fine but dusk, but sometimes it was not. He'd be mad, not in the mood to kiss or whisper. He'd be mad at me, (for being a lover, I suppose?) and himself, for being the sad gay he is.

But let Eddy be Eddy, because it wasn't his choice to fall in like with his gender. So why did people whisper slurs behind ourback? Let Eddy be Eddy – because I didn't like him as anyone else.

x.

Like I said, it was fine by nightfall. We'd be in his bed, since my parent's didn't know of my sexual orientation, and we'd kiss and whisper. But it never went further, because if I came home with the smell of euphoria and Eddy's bed, my father would be, lets not be profound, but he'd be pissed. And it's not Eddy's fault. It's never Eddy's fault, since he's so goddamn perfect, but it's my own fault, for being in love with a boy.

x.

There's this girl, though. Her name? Nazz. Eddy likes her too. I don't know why. She was 17 now and has been pregnant two times already, and almost another one last summer. Abort. Kevin is her boyfriend's name. She's slept with other guys (and Sarah) either way, even if she is the only thing Kevin can hold on to. She doesn't care.

In a way, I'm almost sorry for Kevin, despite the years of torture I've endured thanks to him. First, it was all for attention, he didn't even miss her – his mom – when she passed. But as time wore on, almost two years, the bruises were suddenly right there. His dad was an alcoholic, we all knew that, but it never seemed to matter unless we heard the glass shatter. He has a cat, Sophie. She's little and brown with big, grey eyes. She is in no way an indoor cat. I see her miles away sometimes when I drive out of town.

Kevin can't hold on to anything, and Nazz still cheats. Even if Eddy somehow gets intoNazz, I won't be heartbroken until he gets down on one knee.

x.

I'm hardly jealous. We've been out before. We went out to eat and instead of eating we'd sit there across from each other, just staring. He'd stare into my eyes and I'd bite my lip, scared. He'd see it in my face and kiss me lightly and squeeze my hand. Then someone – anyone – would walk into the restaurant, usually a billion miles away, and somehow find us. They'd laugh; Eddy and me would get kicked out. Same old, same old.

Then if my father or mother were out, (and lets face it, they always were) Eddy would stay in my house, in my bed. He'd sit on my bed, all purple and bloody, but his face stood strong. He'd grumble at me, at nothing, at everything. And I'd sit in the corner of my room, crying. He wouldn't notice anyways.

I didn't cry because of Eddy most of the time. I always stay at his house, because I hate mine. I hate the mocking yellow paper just scattered everywhere. Sometimes Eddy would notice my glares at the evil post-it notes beginning to take over my wall, and he'd hold my hand and take me across the cul-de-sac to his house. We'd kiss and he'd make me feel better. Temporarily, of course. Nothing is permanent in this relationship. Neverpermanent.

Not a smile on my face was permanent.

x.

There's a girl who likes me, too. Her name is Marie, and if I weren't so gay I'd be in love with her. I thought I was, you know. She has this short, layered, blue hair, and blue eyes and she coats it all with eyeliner. She wears skinny jeans that hug her legs so tightly you see panty-lines sometimes. She wears tight shirts too, which make her breasts look larger than they probably are. Marie is actually really, really pretty.

I remember when I was 14 and testing out my sexuality, I kissed Marie a lot. I knewI liked boys; it was in the back of my head the entire time we kissed and touched. Ilikeboys, Ilikeboys, Iwantaboyfriend, Ilikegirls, Iwantagirlfriend, andIlikeboys. I kept trying to convince myself that the feelings I felt for Eddy weren't real, just a stage that every 14-year-old boy goes through.

I'm sorry I used you, Marie.

At the same time, however, Eddy was using me to come to terms with his sexuality.Of course, he'll probably remain bisexual even though I try my hardest. He kissed Nazz and I, and when I came to terms with mysexuality; I asked him who he liked more, her or me.

He answered with a shrug, and I pretended not to care.

But, oh God, I cared. I went home and cried and I called Ed. We talked for seven hours, staying up until the wee hours of the morning. And soon enough, my cheeks were dry and I was ready to see Eddy the next day to watch a movie.

Then he told me he loved me, that one night, December 23rd. I was 17 and we were coming back from dinner when he wanted me to come over. And I gave myself to him, and I remember watching snow fall down onto his window as he whispered the words over and over into my ear. I never said it back, but I didn't need to.

x.

I wish he had meant it.