Portman POV
I walked into Fulton's apartment and slumped onto his couch. I had spent the entire ride fighting with him and by the time we arrived home my throat hurt too much to even ask him to hand me the remote control. Apparently twenty minutes of bickering back and forth hadn't tired him out however. I was about too pass out exhausted from the argument and he was standing in the kitchen still going.
"And another thing, have you told your father yet?"
I tipped over side ways and buried my face in the arm of the sofa hoping if I ignored him he'd go away. No such luck. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed.
"Are you listening to me?"
"No." I groaned.
"Well you better, cuz I'm not talking to hear my own voice."
"Look Fult, you broke up with me okay, you broke up with me, you made this decision all on your own. Now I'm tired, I have a headache and I don't want to fight with you anymore." I grumbled.
"That's a no then right? You're not answering the question because you didn't tell him."
"Jesus Fulton, you're starting to sound like a PMSing girl! Now I don't want to talk about this, I want to go to sleep. Then I'm going to pack up and try to find a way to change the date on my ticket so I can go home."
"Yeah, run away, that's what you're best at."
"Fulton, I don't know what you want me to do here, what do you expect me to say?"
"Nothing Dean, it's not like you care about what I'm feeling anyway, it's all about the sex to you." He muttered and left the room.
It's safe to say that I didn't get to take the much needed nap I was hoping for. Fulton was in rare form, even though he left me alone, he went in his room and cranked his stereo as loud as it would go to prevent sleep. I couldn't figure out what his problem was and it wasn't like his was about to tell me. I know most people don't think I'm all that sensitive but truthfully, I can't stand to see another person upset or hurting, but I just couldn't understand what was wrong. What had I done that had been so bad?
People always warn you not to fall in love with your best friend, because nothing can ever stay the way it was. Maybe I was wrong to think that after we'd been going together for awhile, he'd still feel the same fire and passion for me he had in the past. But on the other hand, the fire and passion weren't really that big of a deal. The sex had never been that important, and his words hurt like a knife into flesh.
When I got off the couch and walked out of the house that day, I could've sworn he yelled something after me, but I didn't turn back to see what. I walked down the Minnesota streets like I had many times before thinking. I know me thinking, sort of something you could never picture, yet I do it a lot, sometimes I'm told I over think things. Maybe that was my problem, maybe I couldn't figure out what was going on simply because of how hard I was thinking.
The night was dark, unusually dark for that time of year, as I wondered the sidewalk. There were people around and every once in a while I'd side step to avoid a crashing into them, though other then that my movements were almost robotic. I was so lost in thought, I hardly noticed when my cell phone rang in the pocket of my jeans, when I looked at it though the caller ID read Fulton Reed.
"Hello?" I smiled hitting the talk button.
"Don't go home." His voice was deathly serious.
"I knew you'd change your mind."
"I didn't Portman, Banks just called, Charlie's been in an accident. I dunno how bad, so I think you should stay nearby."
"So… do you want me to come back there or…?" I let my voice trail off.
"I'll leave the door open, I'll be in bed. Portman please don't come in and bother me. I'll put a pillow and blanket on the couch."
"Yeah, okay. I guess I'll be there later."
"Alright, well lock up when you come in." And he hung up.
This gay thing was starting to be a hassle.
I walked into Fulton's apartment and slumped onto his couch. I had spent the entire ride fighting with him and by the time we arrived home my throat hurt too much to even ask him to hand me the remote control. Apparently twenty minutes of bickering back and forth hadn't tired him out however. I was about too pass out exhausted from the argument and he was standing in the kitchen still going.
"And another thing, have you told your father yet?"
I tipped over side ways and buried my face in the arm of the sofa hoping if I ignored him he'd go away. No such luck. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen with his arms crossed.
"Are you listening to me?"
"No." I groaned.
"Well you better, cuz I'm not talking to hear my own voice."
"Look Fult, you broke up with me okay, you broke up with me, you made this decision all on your own. Now I'm tired, I have a headache and I don't want to fight with you anymore." I grumbled.
"That's a no then right? You're not answering the question because you didn't tell him."
"Jesus Fulton, you're starting to sound like a PMSing girl! Now I don't want to talk about this, I want to go to sleep. Then I'm going to pack up and try to find a way to change the date on my ticket so I can go home."
"Yeah, run away, that's what you're best at."
"Fulton, I don't know what you want me to do here, what do you expect me to say?"
"Nothing Dean, it's not like you care about what I'm feeling anyway, it's all about the sex to you." He muttered and left the room.
It's safe to say that I didn't get to take the much needed nap I was hoping for. Fulton was in rare form, even though he left me alone, he went in his room and cranked his stereo as loud as it would go to prevent sleep. I couldn't figure out what his problem was and it wasn't like his was about to tell me. I know most people don't think I'm all that sensitive but truthfully, I can't stand to see another person upset or hurting, but I just couldn't understand what was wrong. What had I done that had been so bad?
People always warn you not to fall in love with your best friend, because nothing can ever stay the way it was. Maybe I was wrong to think that after we'd been going together for awhile, he'd still feel the same fire and passion for me he had in the past. But on the other hand, the fire and passion weren't really that big of a deal. The sex had never been that important, and his words hurt like a knife into flesh.
When I got off the couch and walked out of the house that day, I could've sworn he yelled something after me, but I didn't turn back to see what. I walked down the Minnesota streets like I had many times before thinking. I know me thinking, sort of something you could never picture, yet I do it a lot, sometimes I'm told I over think things. Maybe that was my problem, maybe I couldn't figure out what was going on simply because of how hard I was thinking.
The night was dark, unusually dark for that time of year, as I wondered the sidewalk. There were people around and every once in a while I'd side step to avoid a crashing into them, though other then that my movements were almost robotic. I was so lost in thought, I hardly noticed when my cell phone rang in the pocket of my jeans, when I looked at it though the caller ID read Fulton Reed.
"Hello?" I smiled hitting the talk button.
"Don't go home." His voice was deathly serious.
"I knew you'd change your mind."
"I didn't Portman, Banks just called, Charlie's been in an accident. I dunno how bad, so I think you should stay nearby."
"So… do you want me to come back there or…?" I let my voice trail off.
"I'll leave the door open, I'll be in bed. Portman please don't come in and bother me. I'll put a pillow and blanket on the couch."
"Yeah, okay. I guess I'll be there later."
"Alright, well lock up when you come in." And he hung up.
This gay thing was starting to be a hassle.