Then there was the day it snowed.
Right before finals week of my first semester, there was that blizzard and classes were canceled. This is a rare occurrence for college students and it was a nice break from routine. You had the unfortunate luck of an 8:00 AM class last semester and I was jerked from a sound sleep when your alarm began blaring. You swatted at it from somewhere under your blankets, dragged yourself from the bed and, pulling on a hoodie, disappeared out of the room to take a piss.
You came back, more alert and jubilant. "Classes are canceled!" You sang happily, prodding me awake. Before I realized what you were doing, you were climbing into my bed, pushing me over towards the wall, telling me you were feeling lonely. I gave a sleepy, half-assed objection, but I was too tired still and incoherent and you wound up staying. There was no point arguing anyway. It's not like you would have listened to my protests. You'd already made yourself comfortable.
You fell back to sleep quickly, but I just couldn't relax. I was too nervous with you there beside me, inches away from me while I was shoved up against the cold wall. I was only wearing boxers and a tee-shirt; I was worried about what would happen if I fell asleep and you woke up. You moved a little and I tensed, wishing I could calm down. Feeling the silk of your pants against my bare leg didn't help any.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling while you slept peacefully. My mind was racing; I thought of all the other times you had men in your bed. You were violent with them; always wishing to draw blood, you were something of a sadistic lover. I'd seen the aftermath of your love; the guys you'd left with not only broken hearts, but broken bodies. You'd never done any one while I was in the room and I'm thankful for that. But I've seen…
You pick the most naïve guys, the ones with the littlest experience, that way they won't know what to expect. They come willingly, lured, I'm sure, by your seductive comments and your femininity. You were hungry for them; the demon was always lurking in your shadow. You love to make them squeal, don't you?
Don't think I didn't know how promiscuous you were, even then when you were so innocently asleep beside me. I had glanced over at you, your hair spilling out of your ponytail, a small smile on your face. You had lines on your face from the sleeve of your velour hoodie, your lashes swept across your cheeks as your eyelids fluttered. I wondered what you were dreaming about that you had such a contented look on your face. You almost looked…normal, sleeping there like that.
All thoughts of normalcy flew from my mind, however, when you latched onto my arm and began nuzzling against it. My face must've been flaming, I could feel it heating up the second you touched me. If only my parents could have seen me then…Mom would have thrown a fit; seeing you cuddled against me and me all blushing and bashful. Why I was so flustered…Well, some things are better left unsaid, aren't they? I'm sure my father would disown me if he knew the thoughts running through my head as you dug your fingernails into my bare arm. It felt surprisingly…nice.
I had calmed down then. I think my exhaustion from being woken early was part of what was making me so tense. I needed sleep…I wasn't used to being up so early. Normally, I slept until around ten, then hurried off for a quick bite to eat before that class we had together at eleven. So I figured…What the hell? Might as well sleep, even with the person I'm not sure I should trust to be near me while I'm asleep. He hasn't tried to pull anything other than a few kisses yet…My eyes had rolled towards the ceiling at the thought of this. You weren't doing a very good job seducing me, were you?
But then, you had managed to find your way into my bed.
I was just as hopeless then as I am now.
I did manage to fall back asleep, only to have an extremely bizarre dream.
We were in a never-ending field, you and I, and it was snowing. The whole scene was a frosted expanse and flurries were drifting around us, swirling masses of white. The wind teased some of your thin hair loose and fluttered the ends of your purple scarf. Suddenly, you were running, chasing after something and yelling over your shoulder for me to hurry up. I tried to follow, but it seemed the faster I ran, the farther away you were. I was trying to call out, telling you to wait, but my voice didn't seem to be working at all.
"Don't! Come back! Wait for me! Don't leave me here all alone! I don't want to be alone!" I was screaming then, but you were too far away and didn't hear me. I was cold, I was lost, I was all alone as I collapsed into the snow, sobbing into my hands.
Then I woke up.
The bed beside me was empty. Maybe classes hadn't been canceled and I had dreamed that? Maybe you were gone to class…Maybe you were just gone. I nearly panicked at that thought. Then I realized your bathrobe wasn't hanging in its normal spot. He's taking a shower…I calmed myself down; knowing you were nearby and coming back soon. You wouldn't just disappear; we were friends and friends don't bale on each other.
Reassuring myself by reminding myself of this, I went off to take a shower as well. I needed to calm down and think. I had so much to think about, namely what that dream had meant and why having you not there had unnerved me so much. I could hear you singing away in the other shower for a while and I blushed. You sing the most suggestive things while you're in there and some times I find myself wondering what else you do while naked and wet, which only causes me to blush more.
When I came back, you were curled up on your bed, combing your hair. Ignoring the lusty look on your face as I pawed through my dresser in nothing but my boxers, I found a pair of baggy jeans and a sweater. You were watching as I began pulling my clothes on; I could feel your gaze burning hungrily into my back. You do that all the time, it makes me flustered and I ignore you. I've never caught you, but I know you do it.
You were relaxed there, the TV on and tuned to some trashy talk show. Sporting flannel pajama bottoms and a baggy thermal shirt, you looked as if you weren't planning on moving at all for the rest of the day. You hadn't pulled your hair up and it hung damp and scraggly around your face. I studied you for a moment; something seemed off. Then I realized you weren't wearing any lipstick, which was not a normal sight. You still looked just as girly as ever, but it was out of the ordinary to see you that way.
You smiled at me, patting the satin sheets in the vacant space beside you, asking "Can I play with your hair? It's so pretty."
Against my better judgment, I found myself climbing up beside you, mentally telling myself I was going to regret this in the long run. Giving my head a shake, my long hair rippled down my back in a mass of tangled blackness. You squealed with glee and immediately attacked me with your hairbrush, pulling it through the snarled ends of my long mane. I relaxed then, shifting to make myself comfortable as you twined your fingers through my hair. I was content with the situation; glad I had you there with me.
We were lost in silence for a while, save for the people yelling at each other on the TV in the background. You hummed to yourself, obviously happy with our current arrangement.
"Hey," I broke the silence, "We've gotten pretty close, haven't we?"
You nodded, "Mm-hmm," fingers still working their way through my hair.
"You don't think we'll ever grow apart, do you? I've never had a close friend before…" I had thought back to my days in high school; the falsity, the superficiality, the horrid way every one treated each other. I could only imagine what it had been like for you, what with the way you were and all. I was certain that if we had been at the same high school, I would have never allowed any one to fuck with you the way people here occasionally did.
You didn't say anything for a moment; didn't even move. Then I began to blush as your arms snaked around me, hands resting on my chest. Your forehead was pressed up against my back, voice muffled by my curtain of hair. "I sure as hell hope not. I've never had a friend before either." You whispered.
"I had girls that followed me around-"
"Trash." An indignant tone filled your voice.
"-And there were guys I hung out with, but I never really trusted any one. They didn't seem to understand a thing about me. I don't think they even cared. But I trust you with almost anything."
"Almost?" I'm sure one of your eyebrows rose at that. You sounded slightly hurt.
"Well, er, there is the matter of love…" I stammered, face flushing, knowing I didn't even trust myself with that.
"Ah, yes." You relaxed again and your fingers toyed with the fabric of my shirt, "The…differences in our preferences."
"Yeah, that." I mumbled. We never discussed that, save for your informing me on the day we met -as if I wouldn't have been able to figure it out on my own- that you were gay. I didn't know why you hated women so much, but I respected that and wasn't going to pry into it. If you felt comfortable enough, you would tell me in due time. But I knew it would bother you if I had chicks around, so I never really made friends with any that would want to drop by. I valued your friendship more than that.
Did you know that I'd only done two girls since the fall semester began? And I never did them in our room; always in theirs when they would "sexile" their roommates for a while. I really didn't find them appealing, but hey, fucking is fucking, right? It's not like I was interested in either of them; I just needed release.
Don't you know how unsettling it was for me to come back at night and find you asleep while some pathetic wuss sobbed in the corner of your bed? Don't you know how much it irked me? Those little shits were terrified of you. You couldn't have been satisfied with them, could you? They didn't deserve what you gave them; none had ever come expecting what you dished out. I never said a word to any of them; no, not a word. They'd look at me pleadingly, or maybe frightened, but I ignored them as they crawled off your bed and disappeared from both our lives.
I hate them all so much.
I hate the way every one treats you, just because you're different than they are.
Neither of us left the room until sometime around six-thirty that day. When we were hungry, we snacked on the things we had around in the room. We just hung around, listening to music and watching TV. You finished with my hair, having wound up putting it in its usual long braid, and I leaned on your shoulder, felling more relaxed then I ever had since I arrived here. You'd tried nothing at all that day, other than invading my bed, and I wondered why you were so subdued. I would have expected our being alone in the room together for ten hours or so to provoke you more.
It was when we went to dinner that I began to understand your unusual behavior. You had gotten fidgety when I suggested a meal, but complied, admitting that you were hungry. I didn't understand why you were so hesitant to go; usually you're pretty enthusiastic about going anywhere because you never know when we might run into some one "cute" or something fun will pop up. Sure, there are chicks all over the dinning hall, but (most of them) find you unappealing anyway.
You shuffled along behind me through the snow, not with any of your usual gusto. Normally, you were a big tease in blustery weather, pelting me with snowballs, suggesting we build a couple of snowmen, wishing you had a sled. One of your more recent stolen kisses had occurred in the snow under a street lamp for the whole world to see, you claiming breathlessly that it was better when I was cold, that it was like kissing the lips of a dead man, while I blushed furiously and wondered how I wound up with a sadistic necrophiliac for a roommate.
Everything became clear when we entered the dinning hall and made our way through the building to our favorite table. It seems your reputation was spreading and people had developed certain prejudices against you; I heard several cruel jibes coming from the people who watched as we wandered together through the room, as their eyes seemed to burn into you.
My brow furrowed. Usually, we were both ignored by the masses. This was strange; that all of a sudden there seemed to be heightened animosity towards you. But you held your head high, following me as if they weren't even there. I looked over my shoulder at you once and I could see, hidden by that proud façade, the tears swimming in the back of your eyes.
It made me angry.
"Hey, fag, you got a new one, eh?" One of them called out to you, "How many times have you fucked with him? He looks like a scrawny one, that kid. I'm surprised you haven't killed him yet."
My head lowered, bangs hiding my face. I couldn't believe people could be so cruel when they knew absolutely nothing. I…I wanted to hurt them so badly for making you suffer. I wanted to destroy them, so they would know what it was like to feel pain. And through it all, through my storm of anger and hatred, I wanted to protect you, because I fucking hated that look in your eyes as you tried to pretend what they said didn't matter.
No matter how much it "didn't matter" to you, it sure as hell mattered to me.
The same kid started to say something else, but my head snapped up and I reeled around to sock him in the face. How dare he? How dare he insult you when you had never done a thing to him? He looked stunned as my fist connected with his face and I started screaming at him. "You shit! You piece of shit! If I fucking ever hear anybody say anything like that again, I'll-"
I was cut off abruptly when you caught me by the arm to keep me from inflicting any further damage to the punk's face. "Come on; it's not worth it. Let's get out of here. I'm not very hungry anyway." I looked up at you, taking in your furrowed brow, the beginnings of a pout apparent in your expression. Would you get angry with me? Would you kiss me when you're angry? I felt a shudder work its way through my body as I allowed you to drag me back out the door, apologizing softly to the workers for causing such a commotion.
You jostled me all the way down the sidewalk until we reached a place out of view from any one who happened to be nearby. It was dark and cloudy and the last little bits of the snow still fell, swirling around us, sparkling as obscure beams of light hit them; giving the world around us an almost magical feel.
You still held my arm lightly. "Why?" Both your voice and your expression were sad, "Why did you just do that? Do you want to get yourself in trouble? Everything would have been fine!" Your voice rose a little, signaling the beginnings of a tantrum. Maybe you would hurt me, let me share your pain.
"It was not 'just fine'!" I was shouting back at you, "They were saying shit about you that isn't true! Don't you care? Why didn't you tell them off? Why did you let them say all that crap?" Tears began to streak down my face. I was frustrated, didn't understand why you put up with that. "Why…?" The words died, trailing off into nothingness as you pulled me into your arms.
I'm sure I could have pushed you away. I could have done anything I wanted to stop you then, but my mind was a hazy swirl of mixed emotions as your lips crushed against mine. I could have chalked my flushed cheeks up to the cold, but I knew it was you. I would be lying to every one else if I said you didn't get me flustered, but I can't lie to myself. Just this once…Closing my eyes, I had wrapped my arms around you, hesitantly returning the kiss…You win.
That had been a strange day. The snow, all the time we spent alone together just talking, the fact that I not only let you kiss me, but willingly returned the affection. I can see us together in my mind, you taller than me by several inches, leaned over, me straining upwards to reach you, everything around us cold and our bodies pressed together, the only warm thing left in this cold cruel world as you kissed me passionately, left me breathless, as the snow danced around us under the gaze of a watchful moon.
That memory will never leave me. It haunts me even now in my dreams. I don't know why I let you do that. I don't know why I didn't push you away. And I sure as hell don't know why I responded in turn. All I know is how I feel.
But can the way I feel be real?
Glancing over at your sleeping form once more, I scoot over on the bed, peeking out the window. The moon is once again shining brightly, casting ghastly shadows around the room. I sit perched on the edge of the bed, reflecting on that night when I had been fully aware of everything and still allowed you to act on your desires.
And damn it, it had felt good.
Maybe I'm being a little more honest with myself now. I'll admit it to myself. I enjoy your kisses. I was comfortable the day we shared my bed. I don't even care too much when you watch me change. I get jealous when you talk about other guys. I hate the way they wimp out on you, the way they tell you they didn't have fun, the way they cower in fear as if you're going to devour them. They willingly come here, but even they don't understand you.
A frown crosses my face. I'm the only one who understands a thing about you, aren't I? I'm the only one who cares for you and befriended you in spite of your…uniqueness. I'm the only one who loves you. And -shit! I guess it woulda surfaced any way, wouldn't it? Yeah; I love you. I love you so much it hurts.
But hell, what do I do now?
