Torment in my Every Dream

Disclaimer: I don't own Home Movies. The show, I mean. I own home videos, most of which I've taped over with random episodes of South Park and Invader Zim.

WARNING: Contains slash. If you are not comfortable with male/male pairings, don't read it. Simple as that.

No. I don't love him. I can't love him.

But you do.

The voice. It's in my brain. I can't hide from it. But it's wrong. I don't. We've been friends since gradeschool, but just that. Friends. Nothing more.

You can't deny it.

And I can't. I know that what I feel is more than a strong friendship. It's lust. But he can't know that. He would hate me.

No he wouldn't.

No. . . He wouldn't. He would understand. But he wouldn't return my feelings. He can never know.

You're afraid.

Afraid. . . Of what?

Rejection.

No! I'm not afraid. I'll tell him tomorrow. I can't hide from these feelings forever.

There he is. A radiant glow seems to surround his slender form as he scans the notice tacked up on the wall. I know it must be about the upcoming film festival.

It's now or never.

I make my move. "Uh, Brendan?"
He turns to face me, and a smile flickers on his tender lips. "Jason. Hi."
"Er. . . Can I talk to you?"
I can see concern in his clear, deep blue eyes. "Sure. What's up?"
"I need to tell you something. . . important."
"What is it?"
"Can we go somewhere more private?"
He looks confused. "Yeah, sure."
I open the door to the chemistry lab. It's empty; Class won't start for ten minutes. We step inside.
"So what did you want to tell me?"
I don't answer, but instead move closer to my love. he backs away, and I can tell that he's getting really nervous now.
"Erm. . . Jason?"
That's when I lose it. I pounce, pinning him against the wall with my body. He struggles, but I hold his hands against the cold stone, pressing my mouth against his. Forcing his lips apart with my tongue, I release my grip on his fragile wrists and entangle my fingers in his messy red hair. He pushes hard against my chest, and finally I give in.
I back away, waiting anxiously for a response. At first he does nothing, just stares at me blankly, showing no emotion. Then his expression changes to one of complete seriousness.
"You know I don't feel the same."
"Yes."
He smiles sadly, shouldering his backpack. "I'm sorry, Jason."
He leaves the room. I stare after him, drained of all emotion, and wonder if I'll ever feel love again.