Riley's Point of View

"Do you believe in fairytales, Danny?"

"No."

"Do you believe in anything anymore?"

"No."

"What about…"

"I believe in silence, okay? I believe in rainy days and insignificance and loneliness."

I watched him laid out on the shag carpet, bottle of Vodka clenched and shaking in his hand. His naked body stunning and sculpted and it's perfectness almost hid the imperfect tears rolling down his face. As much as I felt drawn to walk closer, I was scared.

"Danny…you're beautiful," I admitted breathlessly. I didn't solely mean the superficial kind, but I think he knew that; or so I hoped.

"I'm pathetic," he whispered. I saw his Adam's apple rise and fall, attempting to swallow back tears that were now freely running down his face. His eyes didn't move, staying focused on one spot on the ceiling. His entire demeanor was altered; I'd never seen him quite like this before. He wasn't the Chad I knew, and had known for years, but an empty shell that just lay there, letting life take him away.

Slowly, I stepped towards him, as if rushing might set him off and cause him to snap or something. Just two feet away, I stood and studied him, wanting so desperately to understand his pain, and just maybe take it away.

"What's happening to you?" I whispered; a catch in my throat at my last word. I bit my lip as my nose slightly burned, willing myself not to cry too.

Danny didn't answer for a long time. The only part of him that moved were his eyelids, blinking up at the ceiling. His hand had stopped trembling now, and for a couple minutes, no tears had fallen from his eyes.

"Are you drunk?" I finally asked, breaking the silent. Courage welled up in my chest and took precedence over sympathy, for only a moment.

"I can't feel my fingers." A small smirk lifted a corner of his mouth, but I think it was because he was mocking himself.

"Danny…"

"Stop saying my name," he said slowly, and at the same time, he turned his head to look at me. He hadn't looked at me like that in months; it was a look of wonder and curiosity. Almost as if simply gazing at me would tell me everything he needed to know before he'd even have to ask.

All at once he'd turned his head back to face upwards again, his wet face shinning in the lamplight. "If I told you the reason….you'd laugh at me."

"Reason for what?"

"This!"

That was all he said, but it was enough. The reason as to why he was laying in the middle of the living room, drunk and naked and barely there. Robotically, without even thinking, I sat down right next to him, stretched my legs out one by one, and brought my whole body down so I was facing him lying down. I watched him blink, and watched his face shine with fresh tears. He was mesmerizing this close, and with a single finger, I sketched long lines down the side of his body. He didn't move away, or temple or stiffen. There was no reaction whatsoever, but that didn't discourage me, so I kept going. "You can tell me anything. I promise I won't laugh. You're my best friend."

"Friend," he repeated.

I stopped tracing lines on his skin. "Huh?"

"What if, I'm in love with you, Riley?"