I'll Just Say Goodnight...
A short, little plot bunny that attacked upon hearing the title of this story in a movie. Kinda angtsy, Merton's thoughts as he thinks about telling Tommy the truth. Charcters not mine. Merton POV.
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I could sit here living a lie, watching another horror movie, sitting on the sofa in the Lair, telling myself that it doesn't matter how close you sit to me, how often our knees bump, or how many times our hands brush each other's when reaching for popcorn, it won't change anything. Nothing will change. It never does, I'm not that lucky. So I pretend like seeing 'The Lost Boys' for the three hundredth and fourteenth time interests me, like I can't recite this movie in my sleep. I pretend sitting here beside you isn't affecting me, isn't making my heart heavy, isn't trying to convince me to just… admit how I feel.
I could tell you how much you mean to me, how much I love you. How if you asked me to, I'd stay here in Pleasantville, for you, and you alone. I know that you could wake up and realize that you don't need me anymore, that you haven't needed me since the beginning of all this wolf stuff, and, though it's incredibly selfish on my part, I hope that never happens, because I'll always need you. It's not fair that you could just walk away from this, our friendship. I know I could never walk out on you, I could never do that to you. It's not fair that you don't need me not nearly as much as I need you. Maybe if you knew that, you'd stop fighting for Sloane. You think I'm jealous because I want her. Tommy, I want -you- And you don't seem to get that. So, maybe I can't expect you to be able to read my mind and just know what you can do to me without even touching me, or why I liked being the only one who knew about the wolf. That made me feel special, the only one privy to the real you, the side no one else got to see. But, I'm still sitting here, your arm around my shoulder like it's the most normal thing in the world, acting like that simple platonic gesture of friendship isn't sending fireworks to my brain.
After what seems like an eternity of torture, you finally get up, the credits rolling on the television. I watch as you stretch arms over your head, shirt riding up in the process, your skin taunting me, begging me to touch and yet forbidding me at the same time. I busy myself with the task of putting the DVD away to keep myself from acting on any impulses, because, out of everything that could go wrong, the last thing I want is to lose you as my friend. "Buddy, you okay?" You ask, a hand on my shoulder. I nod, mumbling something about having a long day even though I wasn't the one who spent two hours at football practice. He nods anyway, backing towards the door. "I'll let you get some sleep then." I have a chance here, just like every other night when you leaves, to finally say what needs to be said, but I don't, falling onto my bed.
I could sit here and pretend like nothings changed since we first became friends, that you're just my best friend and that's al you can ever be. But, all I want is for you to finally realize just how much I need you. How God-damn much I love you.
"Tommy, wait!" I call, and you lean against the door fame, wondering why I stopped you.
Right now, I could tell you everything… But, I'm terrified.
So, I'll just say goodnight…