DISCLAIMER: There are explicit scenes in this chapter. If sexual themes offend you or make you feel uncomfortable in any way, please skip all of the first perspective or the chapter in its entirety. Thank you.

When Something is too Good to be True, it Probably Is

—Aaron

I woke up this morning in a better mood than I thought I would. I went to bed thinking about Lucian, probably dreamt about him, too. If all I can hope is for a better tomorrow then maybe things won't be as bad as I thought they would be.

Starting my morning routine, I shower, get dressed, and go downstairs to make myself breakfast, waiting for Lucian. Just because my feelings make it a little bit more difficult to be around him, I won't let them completely take over my life. In all honesty, my friendship with him means more than the world to me. I'm not going to let myself ruin it. It's almost seven thirty. He'll be coming soon.

As expected, Lucian came downstairs, a little sleepier-looking than usual. He didn't shower, he still had on a robe and his pajamas, his glasses were askew, and his hair was in a hot, poufy mess. It looked adorable.

"Morning, pretty boy." I say, making the two of us some waffles. Remembering his hatred for any other beverage in this world, I also got to buy him some tea while I was out one day, so the kettle was ready on the stove just for him.

He gave me a cute, tired groan and sat down, his face planted on the table. Immediately I run over to him, letting the waffles burn, and pick his head up. He looked into my eyes with the saddest, emotionless void that was currently spiraling within his own eyes. "Lucian, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Aaron…I'm so exhausted. I don't know what I'm doing anymore." He whispered, his lips hardly moving which made all his words sound jumbled.

"What do you mean, Lucian? Are you okay?" I kept my hands cupped on the sides of his face, stroking my thumb in circles on his cheek. He found some sort of comfort in that.

"Groan…It's Cynthia. She has been nothing but antagonistic about my relationship with you. She's becoming jealous that I have a close friendship with you, and the fact that you and I have talked more in three months than she has with me in ten years." Those magnificent lavender eyes staring at me were glossed over, half-lidded with his long, curly eyelashes hitting the lens of glasses. They looked so dull, so sad and empty it was starting to make me feel bad, too. His face is so warm, and his lips were parted only slightly, with his two front teeth hitting his bottom lip.

Lucian just looked so lonely. So depressed. But what can I do to make him feel better?

This certainly comes to mind: There are so many opportunities right now for me to kiss him. My hands are holding his face, tilted right up at me. I'm thinking to myself, yes, go on and kiss him! Everything will be better if you just do it—he'll kiss you back and he'll be happy and you two will be together forever in love. But I can't. He won't feel what I feel and I'm literally just dying inside, screaming louder and louder: "Kiss him, you fuckass! Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him! You'll never get another chance like this!" While I'm considering the idea, my lips part slightly but I get too scared…

"I-I'm sorry you had to go through that yesterday…" Fuck! I can't do it. I'm way too afraid. "I'm sorry for getting you into trouble and I'm sorry she's such a bitch to you."

Lucian's lips curved into a smile and his voice grew sympathetic. "Oh, no," he cooed, voice still hushed, "It was not your fault, Aaron. We both lost track of the time and there's nothing we can do about it. I'll be fine."

Oh my god that voice and those bedroom eyes are killing me. I want to so badly—he hasn't even moved, or made an attempt to! "Are you sure? If it's too much of a problem, I will stop having lunch with you just so that you won't get into trouble…" It hurt me to say it, but I don't want him to be chewed out for having fun.

"Oh, no, please don't do that…" Dear lord, the desperation his voice. "I still want you around; we just have to be a little more cognizant of the time. We shouldn't let one little slip up ruin what we like to do." Lucian's stony expression became softer, and his words melted into my ears. It was just the sweetest thing, him wanting lunch with me even if he knew Cynthia would scold him every time. If that isn't caring, I don't know—

No. No, it's just caring. Just caring.

"Well, if you don't mind being chewed out after lunch every day, then count on me being there. But at least let me take some of the blame for you. It's not your fault I get a box of fries for two." We both chuckled a bit.

"I wouldn't give it up for the world, Aaron. I am not letting go of the closest friend I've ever had just because an obsessive woman has envy issues." His smile grew bigger and all those pretty tea-stained teeth shone right at me.

"An obsessive woman who happens to be your girlfriend." I don't even know why I had to correct him, but I'm rather glad I did. With my hands still on the sides of his face and our eyes locked on to each other's, I could've instead made it complete with a kiss, but didn't.

"I'd forgotten all about that." He slurred sleepily. "I blame my flightiness on you. Not that I mind it…" And then came a lull. God, I hate lulls. Those stupid awkward silences kill me because I get nervous. I never know what he's thinking all those seconds of agonizing silence. All he ever does is stare into my eyes intensely, much like he's doing right now. Expressionless, intense staring.

Within this silence, I realized my hands were still on him. To avoid further embarrassment, I was seconds away from pulling them back when all of a sudden Lucian raised his hands to my face and shushed me.

"Don't pull away." He whispered, using his thumbs to move my hair away from my face.

"Lucian, are you okay…?" He could me off with another shush. A soft, prolonged shush. A tiny grin on his lips was the last thing I saw before I was pulled. I was going to scream, but the second it happened, I realized what he was doing.

My body kind of fell on his, my legs awkwardly trying to keep me up, but the bends in my knees gave out and I slumped against him. The only thing keeping me from sliding off completely were my hands which moved from his face to his shoulders. Our legs were intertwined almost uncomfortably but neither one of us made an effort to move. His fingers were knotted into my hair and with those fingers he pulled again, my nose bumping into his before our lips sealed. The tea kettle began to whistle louder.

Only for what I can assume is a millisecond, my eyes widened. My lips were on Lucian's. His eyes were closed and his breathing slowed. The impossible had been done—I was kissing Lucian.

Kissing Lucian.

Well, more like he was kissing me. It was simple, our lips pressing against each other, heads tilted, and my fingers gripping tightly on his shoulders as I breathed in sharply through my nose, kissing him. But it is the most exhilarating thing I've ever experienced. His lips are soft, softer than I ever could've imagined. It was the heated, passionate, soul-searing kiss that comes at the end of every romance story.

This kiss lasted so much longer than it should have. A quick kiss would've told me everything, but Lucian not pulling away—if anything, keeping me close, trailing one hand down my spine and keeping the other at the back of my head—this was real. My heart is going to explode and my mind is shutting down. I forgot when I closed my eyes and kissed back, but I did, and with gusto. He pressed his lips harder against mine and made a faint, luscious sound that made me melt all over him.

"N—nn…" Those sweet little noises he made whenever I tilted my head to give him better access drove me insane. I needed to hear more of him. My body grew a mind of its own, my hands rubbing Lucian's delicious flat chest and the smooth curves of his hips. This is almost too much, but like Hell I'm going to stop now. I bit his lower lip and he gasped, perfect for me to slide my tongue across his teeth. I opened my eyes slightly, as did he, and he let out the hottest, most desperate moan before sticking out his tongue, waiting. I licked his tongue slowly, tasting him, savoring him. He caught my tongue with my teeth and he swirled around mine, the both of us fighting for dominance. We rewarded each other with sweet, audible moans and grunts, and Lucian was more than generous in giving those out.

"Aaron…" He whispered in between the kiss, his wet lips against mine. I said his name in response and attacked his lips again, the lower half of my body began rocking against his.

"Lucian…Lucian…" I said his name in three second intervals against our kiss, gradually getting louder and louder. This situation is taking a direction it shouldn't be. But I don't want to stop it.

Lucian broke off momentarily to catch his breath, shifting his eyes down to our hips. When I realized what I was doing, I slowed to a stop, mumbling an apology.

"I didn't say you could stop." He smiled and bit his lower lip, looking back into my eyes and grinding his hips in tandem with mine.

I threw my head back and gasped. "Oh f-fuck!" I couldn't stop swearing. I couldn't stop grinding. I couldn't stop the situation. He was teasing me so much, what else could I do? I tried grinding back harder, but my thrusts were so inexperienced in comparison. The friction in our pants was starting to take its toll; my hard-on grew instantly and it pressed against Lucian's middle.

He noticed. The embarrassment I felt at that moment was too much to bear. "Excited already? My, my, I thought you were one to put up a fight…" He purred, reaching his hand down to give my erection a squeeze. I groaned and grit my teeth, trying to stay focused. I can't believe Lucian was actually saying this to me, doing what he's doing. It's like some kind of a dream, and if it is, I don't want to wake up.

"Fuck…I can't help it. But in my defense, I'm not the only one." Thank God my quick thinking kicked in. I shot down my hand and grabbed onto the growing bulge in Lucian's pants, massaging him. "You like how it feels?"

He responded with a loud, shocked moan. "Oh, Aaron!" His palm brushed against my privates in rough caresses just as I was doing to him.

I purred at his words and slid my hand from his clothing and down his pants, grabbing onto his length. "Fuck yes," I leaned in closer to him and spoke right against his parted lips, "You don't know how long I've been waiting for this."

Lucian whined and closed the small gap between us, kissing me rougher than before. There was this gradual heat intensifying in the kitchen, making the both of us start to sweat. I kept my lips locked on his, stroking him off from under his pants, making him squeal and moan in delight. I thought wasn't very good at this, but Lucian's reactions said otherwise. There was no build up or teasing, just my hand around his hard cock, jerking him off fast. Three months of sexual tension building up and I finally have the opportunity to pleasure him like I've wanted to. It felt so empowering, making an experienced grown man whimper your name in the most intimate way.

Lucian gripped onto my shoulders and left my mouth, pulling my head close to him and he whispered to me. "P-please—ahn!—please keep going!"

I pumped my hand faster, causing him to buck his hips up with each stroke. "Oh Lucian…I've wanted you for the longest time…"

Not long after I said that, I started feeling my hand get wetter and stickier. "Lucian, you're…"

He closed his eyes and his face reddened immediately, yelling out my name. "A-Aaron, I'm…!" Before he could finish, he bit down hard on his lower lip and whimpered. His cock twitched in my hand and hot spurts coated my fingers. Lucian panted when he was done, and his half-lidded eyes looked up at me.

"Sorry…" He said as I pulled my hand out of his pants. I smiled at him and stuck two fingers into his mouth.

"You don't need to apologize, just clean up the mess you made." With a slow 'mm-hm,' Lucian sucked on my fingers, his tongue eventually licking my entire hand. He made sure there were no remnants of his cum before pulling away.

I used the hand he diligently cleaned to move hair out of his face. "You really are a pretty boy. You're twice as pretty when you're being pleasured." He blushed and pursed his lips. I laughed a little and kissed his forehead. "I'd like to see you like that more often. Maybe you and I can fool around a little bit more before the others come down for breakfast."

Lucian raised his eyebrows and hummed. "Right here on the table? My, you certainly are adventurous." One of his hands traveled down my back and stopped at my ass.

The kettle whistled higher and we both whipped out heads to the stove.

"…Ah, it's burning…" Lucian said dreamily, very nonchalant about the stove being on fire. The waffles were burning into a cancerous black and the tea was bubbling out of the kettle. Oops.

"Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit —" Reluctantly I jumped off of Lucian and ran to the stovetop, slipping on some oven mitts and began to pat out the flames with a towel, then removed the tea kettle. I ruined our moment. Shit.

When the stove was cleared, I heard Lucian laughing lightly. I turned to him and embarrassedly trailed back to him, sitting on the table and avoiding his gaze.

"You're cute." He said plainly, reaching a hand up to caress my cheek. I blushed redder than a Tomato Berry.

"You…I really—I mean, you really—I just…I…sigh. I think you're cute, too." If any time were as good a time to tell him I love him, it would probably be now. But when I opened my mouth, he began talking first.

"Aaron, before you say anything, I just want to clear some things up. That was one of the most wonderful things I have ever experienced. I'm more than pleased that it happened, but the fact of the matter is that it happened. It probably won't happen again because in all honesty, I wanted to try that out of curiosity. I did want you, but now that the want has been fulfilled I won't need that again. It was more so to clear my mind of unwanted thoughts about my friend. Much like my views on intercourse in general, it was a meaningless experiment to see if I was truly into you. As it turns out, I'm not. I was just feeling adventurous is all. We don't need to continue, nor do I really want to."

By that point the high I was on came crashing down spiraling into a deep dark pit of Hell.

"I've never been keen on men, much less a boy six years younger than me, so I needed to know if this was what I wanted. Besides, I still have Cynthia. It'd be wrong to leave her for something that won't last—this was a spur of the moment deal."

And from that dark pit it sunk lower until it reached an eternal fire that would make it suffer until the world ends.

"So I apologize for reeling you into this spontaneous whirlwind of lust. Hopefully there are no hard feelings. Thank you for you cooperation, however."

I felt like ripping my heart out of my chest and flaying it shred by shred until I felt nothing, because that's exactly what he feels for me. Nothing.

"I knew it was a mutual curiosity. Well, we got it over with and found that we are not romantically compatible." He smiled sweetly as if this was the easiest thing in the world to say. I felt my feelings for him dissipate completely.

"…Yeah."

He tilted his head and grew a worried expression. "You didn't feel anything…did you..? I mean, you're young and you don't know any better. I knew you wouldn't object to casual sex because of your age, but there wasn't anything more to it, was there?"

I smacked his hand away and the pain in my chest manifested itself into a livid rage. "No, I felt nothing. I feel absolutely nothing for you, Lucian. You are literally fucking nothing to me. Not romantically, not even friendship-wise. Our entire fucking relationship was a fucking lie. If anything, I fucking despise you. I'm glad that you feel nothing for me because that's a load off my shoulders! I won't have to put up with your shit anymore! You are so shallow. You fuck people for kicks? You fuck people so you can tell them afterwards it meant nothing?Do you even realize how fucking shallow that is? Who the fuck do you think you are?! Am I just some whore you can screw around with then throw out because you decide after you blow your load all over me that you don't like guys? You knew I'd agree to casual sex because I'm young? What the fuck gave you the right to assume that I even wanted to jack you off?! But fuck me, right? I'm just a kid. I don't know what I want. Yeah, there's definitely no fucking way I would have real feelings for you, Lucian! Because I'm a kid, and that automatically means I don't have the capacity to love anyone! Fuck that. I hope that when you fuck Cynthia, you feel nothing. That's what you are, an emotionless asshole fuckwit that everyone hates except for your cockwashing, ass-kissing, fake slut girlfriend, who probably acts defensive only because someone told her she can't find anyone better so she settled for you. Fuck you, Lucian. The next time you want to experiment on faggoty things like getting hand jobs from underage boys, don't expect me to pick up the phone. I'm done. I'm so fucking done."

The expression on his face was too astonished for words. Hurt, apologetic, appalled Lucian just stared at me with glassy eyes and an agape mouth. I jumped off the table.

"A-Aaron, w-wait, I—"

"Shut your fucking trap, you disgusting, pathetic excuse for a human being. I don't want to hear it." I didn't even look at him. Right now, I'm just sick. I'm sick of him. I storm out of the kitchen, going upstairs to lock myself in my room. I'm nothing. I'm nothing to him.

It's Times like these that Make Me Realize I Should've Ended My Life Long Ago

—Lucian

I…I just ruined the best thing that's ever happened to me. No, no, no please don't go! I didn't mean a word of it, I take everything back! You mean everything to me! Just please come back! Please…

Why aren't these words coming out of my mouth I can't speak or scream or run after him—

No. No, no, no, all I can do right now is sit down in the kitchen, my heart shattered into millions of tiny, irregular pieces that can never be fixed. I led him on. I ruined our friendship. I ruined anything that had potential. I single-handedly destroyed the only part of my pathetic life that kept me going. His words—the most hurtful, cruel words I've ever had directed to me—were true. I'm nothing to him. If I was ever something, I burned that idea down to cinders with what I just did. He told me he hated me.

I hate you Lucian. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

But…but we had something…you felt it as much as I did…

I hate you I hate you I hate you.

No…please don't say you hate me…I…I don't…

I hate you, you pathetic, worthless waste of human flesh.

Aaron's venomous words stabbed my heart over and over and over again. My head is pounding. My chest is tightening. My cheeks are stained with tears I didn't even notice come out of me. My nose is congested. My eyes are red and puffy. I've been sobbing my being out for twenty minutes now. My hands are cradling my head, and the bitter taste of my tears washed away the warm, tantalizing kiss from my lips, leaving no remnants. Why can't I just buck up, run after him, and hold him again? Why is this bothering me so much? I even told myself that I felt nothing, that it was nothing like how I feel for Cynthia—

That's right. It's not how I feel for her because I've lost all feeling for her. I guess I forgot what a real kiss felt like, an exhilarating, complete, real kiss. I lied to myself, I lied to Aaron, and the entire fucking world I've lied to is laughing at me: payback for being happy. What compelled me to say something so idiotic? I am so undeserving of anything after this. What's the point of trying to grab Aaron and pull him back into my life if he's already so certain he hates me? What do I even say? I made the mistake of kissing him and then letting it lead to something more. I should've prepared myself for what would come afterwards.

The worst part about all of this is the fact that I knew he felt the same and I still managed to ruin this. He didn't pull away because I finally relieved us of the tension we've been suffering through for three months. I finally kissed him. I kissed him and it was the best feeling anyone could ever experience. It was above bliss, above pleasure and ecstasy. I held him as if he had been my lover from the very beginning, our lips meshing to their own accord. That's the first time I've ever touched someone like that. It wasn't mechanical, it wasn't forced. It left me with an insatiable lust for more. One more reason to hate myself more than I already do.

Eventually I ceased crying and felt no motivation for anything. I just want Aaron back.

"…I love you…"

As I whispered those excruciatingly late words, I heard the kitchen door open.

"Ian? What are you doing up so early?"

Oh, wonderful, just what I need: false hope.

Thankfully my sniffling stopped by the time Cynthia walked in. I fixed my glasses accordingly to hide whatever traces of tears I might have had. I cleared my throat and without turning, spoke calmly. "No reason. I was just compelled to be here. I didn't want to wake you." Times I've lied to Cynthia today: one.

Her silhouette snaked beside me; I can feel her condescending glare on me. "Are you sure there was no reason? I thought I smelled something burning down here a while ago…"

I looked up at her sluggishly and shook my head slightly. "I don't smell anything. I came down maybe five minutes ago." Three lies. She gave me an inquisitive look and accepted my fib.

"You could've gotten me up, too, Ian. Five minutes wouldn't have killed me." Her smile bound me to a life of inadequacy. She oozed around the kitchen, preparing her damned cup of coffee as I stared at the kitchen door, waiting for something to save me. Waiting for Aaron to save me.

"So how are you today, hon?" She asked, pretending to care for my wretched existence while replacing the filter. My gaze crept over to her and I glared.

"I've had better mornings. It's rather slow today." Painfully, agonizingly, excruciatingly, mercilessly, slow. It's only going to be slower now that I'm friendless and heartbroken. Standing tall, proper, in her long, thin black nightgown the picture of antagonistic sympathy swam across her face, set neatly on a porcelain canvas of superficial beauty, and she pouted.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry you woke up on the wrong side of the bed." Her eyes were throwing daggers into my heart. "If there's any consolation, I have something planned today for us."

Oh wonderful, I get to spend another day accommodating to the wants and needs of the woman I chose to be my lover. Sometimes I think that these little rendezvous are purposely made to make my day worse. Cynthia is like a placebo: you feel like you can get up to live another day, but when the effect wears off, you find yourself with a piece of rope a forty ounce in either hand, standing on the edge of a bridge and you don't know why.

"Sounds delightful."Lie number four. "I could use something to give me a little more pep." Truth! But not from her.

Cynthia clasped her hands together excitedly and gave me a big, toothy grin, which made me wonder if she knew how blatant her criminal intent is. "Perfect! I knew you'd like that!" Lies Cynthia has told me today: too many to count. "Meet me up in my room at seven?"

No thanks, I'd rather sit in my bathtub, my naked body pruning grotesquely as I slit my wrists with a nail file, soon marinating in my own blood, bodily filth, and bath soaps. But if you really insist, so I shall. "Seven sounds great." Lie number five. "I'll be ready by then." Provided I don't bleed out by that point as I bathe.

"Wonderful. Thank you so much, Lucian. I assure you we will have a great time." Lie number ohfuck it I'm through with counting. She came up to me and for a split second I saw my entire life flash before my eyes. Oh no, I thought, she's going to do it. I really don't need this right now. If she does it, I swear my grey matter will be all over her pillow tonight.

She did it. She leaned down and kissed me. She's still kissing me. My eyes are shifting back and forth awkwardly; I just want this to end. It's not ending. I start tapping my fingers on the table, singing a song in my head to pass the time. This is lasting longer than it should. Well, this is my fault—I did want to be tortured to death…

Finally her lips released me and I felt a little bit of my soul being sucked out of my mouth and into her lecherous abyss. She came up looking more youthful and revived and I probably looked like some sort of decrepit keeper of the crypt. That's what "love" does to you. She left me to my lonesome in the kitchen and I had a right mind to find a knife or some antifreeze. I'm so unhappy with my existence.

I don't talk much. To the average person, (I began this experiment while looking at myself in a mirror, detaching myself from my mind) I look charming, intelligent, the kind of man who probably makes a substantial income to afford all his snazzy outfits and had a silver spoon childhood. For the most part, it's true. I did have a nice childhood. I accepted my half-siblings without question in open arms. My paycheck is to be envied by even people in professional fields, not to mention the other nice paycheck I get from being a literature teacher at the Hearthome high school. I'm a more than adequate trainer. I have one, maybe two good friends. I like to think I'm attractive—on good days I feel I'm more than that, blessed with feminine features with a hint of sophisticated masculinity. Oh yes, Lucian, you have a beautiful life.

But there's something lacking. You see, beyond this seemingly perfect life, almost Stepford really, there's an underlying preface of emptiness. When I left childhood behind to become an adolescent, something changed. I have been in a perpetual state of unhappiness ever since then. I wake up some mornings and start thinking about my life and how I really serve no purpose. Who am I but one more man on this earth that can do what any other can? I find that whenever I am around others, they are sucked into a state of melancholy and I thrive off of it, because misery loves company. I'm Misery. I am the embodiment of negativity, a vessel for agony and all of his friends. I look at myself in the mirror now and I say to that despicable person looking back, "I hate you. You are the biggest disappointment on this side of the universe. Why are you still here, Lucian? You serve no point, there is no rhyme or reason to your existence. What are you to this world but a man that can't even accept who he is? You're too afraid to come right out and say it; you're just waiting for her to end it with you so you can go about life with one less thing to worry about. But that's not how it works, honey. You see, women like her? They love men like you. . manipulated. What, you're too afraid to end it yourself? Too afraid of breaking a long friendship, afraid of all the secrets coming out, afraid of explaining yourself, afraid of the dirty looks people will give you, afraid of losing your job? Afraid of admitting to yourself that Aaron was right all along and now it's too late to apologize?"

I clench my fists and my blood boils at this mocking, juvenile voice in my head. The hideous abomination in the mirror is standing tall, arms akimbo and smirk stretched his ears. "Don't bring him into this," I said aloud, gritting my teeth, trying—trying—not to let this bastard get to me. "This isn't about him. It's about you. It's about how I want you out of my life."

He laughed at me—God, that condescending laughter! I hate that laughter! "You think you intimidate me? I know you better than anyone, Lucian! Look at that icy facade you're trying to fool yourself with! Do you honestly believe that anyone is going to take you seriously? No one does! That's why she laughs at you, Lucian. That's why every time you kiss her she smiles afterwards. That's why it's so cold and meaningless when you screw her. She laughs after that, too. You honestly thought you meant something to someone? No, wait, you were right on that one! But guess what? I bet that person who truly did care is with Cynthia now, laughing at their common ground—you!"

He chuckled at me as I felt my willpower growing weaker—I know he saw it—but I kept on my hateful glare. He cocked his head to the side, pushing up his glasses and snickering softly. "Aw, don't feel so bad, Lucian. You know what you have to do to stop it—stop all the hatred and unhappiness forever. In this day and age, you can do it with virtually anything. Go on. Do it. Nobody's watching. We don't judge in here, Lucian darling. It's what you've always wanted. Stop pretending that tomorrow you'll have something worth waking up to. This life is too good for you. This life needs you out of it. You're holding everyone down, Lucian. Let it go. Let everything go."

I can hear the tension, I'm about to snap. His cockiness is only fueling my anger more and more. I'm doing everything in my power to stop my fist from hitting that mirror and ridding myself of him if only for a little while. The whistling in my ear is growing higher in pitch and I can hear my own heartbeat resonating in my ears and his laugh is getting louder and louder and louder—

I take in a deep breath, releasing my fists and closing my eyes.

"Not today, Lucian. Not today."

Opening my eyes again I no longer see what I've become. Instead the man I am trying to be stared back and although it hardly made me feel any better, at least I sustained my rage from getting out of hand. Not today. I'm not going to let myself win. I'm not going to let Cynthia win.

Knock, knock. "Ian, honey, are you ready yet? You've been in there an awful long time."

Ah yes, I remember I am talking to myself in the bathroom trying to fight suicide. My self-termination can wait, Cynthia cannot.

"Sorry, darling, I was freshening up. I'm coming out." If only that much were true. Not wanting dearest to wait any longer, I opened the door and stepped out, internally sighing. Well, I was dressed for the part: in a black suit and white carnation on my breast pocket, ready to be lifted by six men and lowered six feet into the ground. Cynthia was good at playing along with me: her low-cut skin-tight glamorous black mourning dress said, "Look at me, world! My boyfriend is deceased, so I'm free for the taking!" What a good sport.

"You look so handsome, Ian! It's been a while since I've seen you so formal." As much as I am no longer drawn to her, my gaze sort of shifted to her prominent cleavage; well gee, nothing says "I'm happily taken" like a thin line covering half a nipple. Usually I argue with her about her inappropriate clothing, but personally, I don't care anymore. If a man were to come by and take her away with such an invitation, then my problems would evaporate.

"I haven't worn this suit in about a year. Surprised it still fits. I look like my father in this suit." And he committed suicide when he was forty. I suppose that's also pretty fitting. I'll continue the family legacy.

"You look fabulous. Now come on, I don't want to be out too late!" She grabbed my arm and pulled my away from my train of thought.

One of my favorite places is located within the heart of Canalave City. It is a small café with a mini bookstore in it, mostly appealing to fellow literates and creative hipsters. It's adjacent to my favorite library in the region, and their chai tea is divine. I took Cynthia there for one of our first dates about five years ago. I took her there only once because she didn't really care for the contemporary ambiance. I took Aaron out here about a month ago and we had a great time, laughing, even discussing books we both enjoy. I didn't know he was such an avid reader. It was splendid and I've been dying to go back ever since, which my little arm-clinger has taken me to this evening. Of course I'm pleasantly surprised to see her willingly bring me in here, but all the while I know I won't have the time of my life because she isn't Aaron. All I can do is pretend.

"How's your tea, sweetheart?" She asked, picking at her Tiramisu. For some odd reason the tea didn't taste as good as it usually does.

"It's a little bland. I'm disappointed. Normally the tea is perfect here…" Then again, most things I love just won't feel the same without Aaron. I guess I just have to get used to a lonesome life again. Maybe I can get used to Cynthia again too, telling myself I love her until I wind up believing it again.

"You're so out of it today, honey. Is something wrong?" Her expression conveyed concern but I still wasn't buying it. I know she knows what's wrong with me. She just wants me to say it and admit the defeat I've already accepted.

"…Are you waiting for me to finally say it, or can I just imply it and you'll take the hint?" I didn't want to look at her, or even talk to her right now. I'm not in the mood for her to rub in the fact that I ruined my friendship and managed to break my own heart.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about, Ian…I don't know what's wrong."

I gave her a dry chuckle, staring at my cup of tea. "Of course you know what's wrong. What else could it possibly be? You know I don't talk to anyone else."

"…I see."

"So you know what, I'm going to play along and let you win this one, Cynthia, but not before I get some information out of you, first." I shot my head up at her and spoke as calmly as possible. "What do you have against him? What did he ever do to you? Or is it really my fault?"

She looked like I murdered her family. Clearly offended, she stammered and tried to retaliate. "I do not have anything against him! I don't know where you got—"

"That is a crock of shit and you know it." I interrupted. I'm not in the mood for her lies, either. "Tell me now. Why do you hate Aaron?"

She stayed silent for a while, her hurt appearance changing to annoyance. "Okay, so I got a little jealous. You've been talking to him more than you've been talking to me and that's not fair. You hardly want to be around me anymore and I feel like I'm just this extra baggage you don't need. I was happy for you at first, finally making a friend who understands you, but then you became so attached to him you started ignoring me. You never once thought of me. Don't you think that's a fair enough argument?"

"Of course it is, but in all honesty, five years being dragged around with my girlfriend not being able to just have time to myself made me very unhappy. He's my friend and I want to have a life that doesn't include you hanging over me every second of every day. I'll get around to spending time with you, too, but you have to remember that I'm just one person. I don't always adjust to the wants and needs of just one person. I hardly adjust for my own wants and needs."

"I just thought that after nine years of knowing each other you'd be more open with me. How is it that you just met him and he's the closest thing you have?"

"Not all the time does the closest person in your life have to be your significant other. I've always wanted a very personal friend that I can communicate with on such levels. It doesn't mean that we aren't close, we're just close on a different level. It really doesn't mean anything, my being talkative to Aaron. It just means we're friends. However, since you have such a disdain for our relationship, I think you'll be happy to know we won't be talking for a while now."

"Well, that's—" She stopped mid-sentence and gave me an astonished look. "You…you won't be talking to him?"

"No. No I won't, Cynthia, because I finally ended our friendship by doing something very stupid. It was so stupid, I wound up hurting Aaron's feelings so badly, he blew up at me and left. I got mad, too. I got mad at myself. But I don't like describing the details of my failure to others, so I won't talk about it further than that. I just want you to know that it's over and now all of my time can be monopolized by you again. So now that we have settled our differences, may we please end this runaround game of misery before I wind up jumping off of the Veilstone Department store roof?" I sipped my tea.

There are No Clichés in the Real World

—Cynthia

I did not see this coming. I wanted Lucian to tell me about his problems, but I never wanted it to be this way. I would've thought that them ending their friendship would've been beneficiary on my part, but why do I just feel like I wished for something more evil than I intended? I never wanted Lucian to be unhappy. I never wanted him to be so miserable. I feel like I'm the cause of this unhappiness, that I've been keeping Lucian from being his own person.

"I…I'm sorry. I didn't know you and he got into a fight. Why can't you two just make up?" Oh, I feel so terrible. Now I wish that Aaron forgives him and they just keep doing what they've been doing all this time.

He smiled and scoffed. "Are you really that thick? You don't just go up to someone and say sorry in the hopes that things get better. I regret what I did and it's a regret that's going to stay with me forever. I just have to learn to deal with it."

I wanted to try to say something encouraging, but I couldn't think of anything. I'm no help whatsoever. This isn't just some cliché world in which I say something hopeful and Lucian will get up, empowered, running back to Aaron and life is good. No, I helped ruin a perfectly good friendship all because I became jealous.

"…We could go home now if you want, Ian…"

My Hope Lies in the Wrong Areas

—Lucian

I think I made my point with Cynthia today. I think I finally got a small portion of everything I've been holding back out. She's taking it a lot better than I thought she would.

"No, no, it's fine…I want some more tea, actually…" I heard my voice crack. And there it is, another wave of depression coming over me. Cynthia got up from her seat and moved it next to me, pulling me into a hug. My head rested on her shoulder and I allowed tears to fall from my eyes.

"It's okay, Ian…we don't have to talk about it at all. You talk to me when you're ready."

Her voice was calming. All that paranoia I've had about her being a bad person was just me contorting the rational unhappiness she had and amplifying it to mean something against me. It's no one's fault but my own is why I have no friends and a crumbling relationship. I can't accept who I am because I'm too busy hating myself and blaming the world. I held Cynthia in my arms and cried silently.

I remember why I said yes to her five years ago now as I feel her warmth around me. She was the first shoulder I ever cried on. I believe she's always known I've been depressed, plagued by misery. She's been very good to me. We used to talk but never as intimately as I did with Aaron. But I enjoyed mine and Cynthia's tiny chats about nothing because she was someone I could just be worry free around. I could be the cynic with Aaron but the calm, collected gentleman with Cynthia. I do love her. I love her, but not romantically. She's the one I can't love romantically. I treasure her as one of the best people I know but I feel nothing when we kiss, when we make love, when I tell her I love her. It's her. I was just so lonely all those years ago, I needed a friend who would stay by me through thick and thin. Now I know why I felt so bad telling Aaron it meant nothing. I know now that Cynthia probably knows I don't feel the same for her, but how do I end it? I just can't tell her—especially now, since that leaves me with no one—that I want to end it and go back to Aaron. There are too many what-ifs.

I'm saving a lot of trouble by never being truly happy.

"Are you okay, Lucian?" She cooed, nuzzling her head against mine. I looked up at her and smiled a little.

"I'll be okay. I just have a lot of thinking to do. I also have some therapy sessions I need to plan." We both chuckled a little and I felt a lot better. I need to stop worrying about Aaron and start getting my shit together, as he would say.

"Let's get you some more tea and we can talk about it at home." She said, taking my hand and helping me up.

"I like the sound of that." I squeezed her hand and followed by. Not today, Lucian. Not today.

Author's Note:

Oh my God, this seriously took forever to write. I took the entire week to write this chapter and boy, was it worth it. This chapter was a lot of my personal venting. It's been a very hard past couple of months and just when I thought I had nowhere else to turn to, I find my loyal fans. Thank you all so much, even if a good chunk of you don't review. Writing this keeps me alive even if no one reads this. The next chapter is going into the Christmas break, where things may or may not get better for Lucian. Wouldn't it suck if I ended it right here? I'm kidding; after everything this poor man has been through, he deserves a decent ending. Until next time.

—CC