I couldn't recall falling asleep that night. Hell I hardly even remembered how I got to Oliver's in the first place; yet here I was, laying under the warmth of an Egyptian cotton duvet cover with my childhood best friend asleep in my arms. It was never a part of the plan to sleep with him; hell I never in a million years thought he would have me, and yet everything about last night had felt so right. It was as though my body and brain had been on autopilot and suddenly I had landed, uncertain to where I even was or where I was supposed to go.

Although he looked older, I found myself drawn to how frail he was. He'd always been short and skinny but he currently had the body of a Russian ballet dancer, and not a male one. His hair, which clung to his face with sweat, fell passed his shoulders in a tangled mess that looked like it would hurt to brush out later, causing the curiosity in me to try and run a finger through it. Oliver stirred at my movement, eyes fluttering open as I touched him.

"Sorry," I said quietly, "I didn't mean to wake you." I attempted to take him back into my arms and was startled when he flinched, moving away from me and sitting upright on the bed.

"You should leave before anyone else wakes up," He mumbled. "I don't want to have to answer any questions."

He made a fair point, his family knew me well and we didn't exactly have an excuse as to why I would suddenly be at their family mansion wearing last nights clothes. Even when you didn't know someone, the walk of shame was always an awkward one.

"I'll have to call someone to pick me up…"

"I can bring you back to the inner city, or if you're staying at a hotel I can take you there."

He got out of bed in order to dress and I suddenly became self conscience about our current nudity, scanning the floor of the room for traces of my own clothing that I had thrown off without thought about where they landed. Oliver threw my underwear at me, now dawning cotton dress pants and a sweater vest that looked like it was meant for a ten year old.

"Do you wanna get coffee or something? We should talk about last night, you know? I don't want you to think that I was just trying to seduce you."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"I'm just not sure where we go from here."

"Go from here?" He raised a confused eyebrow, staring at me as I forced myself out of the comfort of the bed and grabbed my pants from on the floor. "This was a one time thing, Enrique. A heat of the moment situation."

"I just mean-"

"I allowed my emotions, and admittedly my hormones, to take control. That doesn't mean I forgive you for what you did to me." He grabbed a beret from a coat rack, balling his hair onto the top of his head and tucking it under the hat, only his bangs hanging out. He didn't look any less hurt than he had the day before, even if his expression was now one of content and apathy as opposed to anger and betrayal. "I don't regret it, but it can't happen again." He met his eyes with mine, "I mean, I don't even know anything about your history, have you ever done that before?" There was a pregnant pause before he added, "With men, I mean."

I gave a shameful nod, now wondering if I had been bad enough for him to question if I knew what I was doing. A few years after I left, I'd decided I had to figure out what my feelings meant.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you just tell me? Instead of leaving."

"I was scared. I hoped that if I went to see the world that I would discover myself; that if I left you behind I would leave those feelings behind too."

"Are you attracted to men?"

"Yes."

"Are you attracted to women?"

"Absolutely."

Truth be told, before leaving I hadn't really realized that both were even an option, something that may have become a part of my overall denial. It had felt like something must be wrong with me, that maybe Oliver was the problem and if I stayed away from him all of my initial feelings would go back to normal once again. I told myself that it was because he was effeminate, that subconsciously I couldn't tell the difference. It hadn't gone away, though. It was never going to go away.

"So you view my sexuality as something bad?"

"There was more to it than that."

He rolled his eyes, letting out a small huff before turning toward the door. I couldn't help but wonder if the Oliver I had known back in the day still resided inside him, the beacon of positive energy that had radiated all of his surroundings. Even when he was less than humble it was always so easy to let it go. He meant well, a go with the flow extrovert who you rarely ever saw sitting still.

"I'm sure."

"I never realized how badly I hurt you…" I sighed.

"Don't you think that's a big part of the problem?"

"What do you mean?"

His hand, which had been reaching for the doorknob now paused. Tension filling the air so thick that you could cut it with a knife. The more I spoke the more it seemed like I was making everything worse. He didn't want me to leave because things were awkward, he wanted me to leave because the more time he spent with me, the more broken he became.

"You were my best friend, Enrique. I've known you since I was ten years old and you threw that all away with no explanation and no goodbye. That in itself is bad enough, but for you to sit here and tell me that you had no idea how badly it would hurt me… do you know me at all?"

I blushed, the realization that he was right hitting me like a boulder falling from the sky. Deep down, I knew he would be devastated by my absence. He didn't deserve any of what I had done to him. Were all the changes he had gone through because of me?

"I know… and I'm sorry."

"I want you to leave."

I finished dressing, walking to where he stood by the door which remained unopened. He seemed to be stalling, causing me to wonder if he was giving me one last chance to fix things. One last chance to show that I had never stopped caring about him. I didn't say a word, putting my hand on top of his and remaining still. I wanted to give him time to react, to see what he would do. The person who I left behind had to be in there, I couldn't possibly accept that in abandoning him I had created this shell of the person I used to know.

"Ollie-"

"Don't call me that."

Releasing his hand, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him gently into my chest without a word. This time he didn't resist, leaning into me and resting his head on my shoulder. No apologizing, no begging for any shred of forgiveness or trying to explain my reasoning, once again, for what I had done. He didn't cry, neither of us did, but the tension he held in his shoulders appeared to relax. I remember him telling me once that he would rather be naked in public than cry in front of anyone, pride clear in the small smirk he'd had on his face at the time. It appeared to remain true, though. I had never seen him cry. After a moment of being motionless, he put his arms around me, locking us in a tight embrace that I'd have been willing to spend eternity in.

"You're really tiny." I said quietly, the shape of his body hardly taking up any space in my arms.

In a quick and sudden movement, he let me go, face crinkled as he gave an offended glare.

"Excusez-moi?" He suddenly barked out.

I looked at him like a deer in the headlights, gears turning as I tried to figure out what I had said to rile him up. After what was only a few seconds, all of the sadness I had been feeling left by body as I burst into absolutely hysterical laughter.

"That's not what I meant!" I exclaimed, pulling him back into me playfully. "I mean your body as a whole, your collar bones are digging into me."

For the first time since he had looked into my eyes, he smiled, shaking his head in amusement.

"I'm on my feet a lot. Two degrees, remember?"

"You never were one to relax." For that one moment, everything seemed okay again, the smile I hadn't seen in years warming his face. For that one moment, I was looking at the Oliver who I remembered. Unfortunately, moments come and go, and his expression dropped. I once again stood before the person who I had broken. "I know you don't forgive me." I mumbled. "It's okay that you don't, I don't blame you."

"I wasn't planning on asking your permission." He sighed.

"So why did you kiss me back?"

He paused. There had to be a realization that I would notice. He had been about to tell me he'd hated me; he'd planned on leaving me in the dust without getting the slightest word in edgewise and it would have been the exact ending that I deserved. When I kissed him it all changed. I had gone from bracing myself for a slap to the face to being able to tell you what brand of toothpaste he'd used. It wasn't a heat of the moment decision, there was thought put into it.

"It's not like you're the first one night stand I've ever had."

"Most people don't go from yelling at someone to ripping their clothes off."

Admittedly, his use of the term one night stand stung a bit. Last night was all I had to convince myself that I might still mean something to him. Had he seen me the same way back then as I had seen him?

"Don't make it into something it isn't." He said. "It didn't mean anything."

"So what? You sleep around now?"

"It's none of your business."

Honestly, the idea of Oliver having an active sex life still felt strange to me. He had been the baby of our group and even with the both of us being in our twenties it was hard not to see that innocence he had always carried. He was as far from shy as one could possibly be but he'd never really seemed interested in dating, which he had mentioned yesterday he didn't begin doing until college.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" I asked.

"Am I going to have to physically drag you out of my house?"

"I'd like to see you try." I smirked, stopping myself as quickly as I could. Cheekiness didn't feel appropriate at a time like this. "Sorry, that was rude. It's just that Robert and Johnny never said anything about you dating."

"It was hard to maintain friendships after secondary school, we all got busy; we drifted apart."

"You were always kind of the glue that held us together."

"Yeah, well… Times change. You'd know that if you'd stuck around."

My face dropped slowly. He really had meant what he said, he did not and would not forgive me, nor did he want to be around me.

"Fine, ignore that question, but could you at least answer my first one? Why didn't you just leave me there last night after I kissed you?"

Oliver blushed, tucking a stray bit of hair behind his ear. Honestly, just looking at him made my heart race. He wasn't exactly what you would call conventionally attractive, hot or sexy didn't feel like the right words to describe him. Oliver was just… cute. I had realized awhile ago that my attraction catered predominantly toward effeminate men, not really being much different than what I preferred in regards to women. Still, no one I had been with ever seemed to quite match up to how I felt when I saw him. I wanted to hold him again, and I didn't want to let go.

"I already told you that it didn't mean anything," He grumbled. "Just let it go."

"Did you have a crush on me? When we were young, I mean."

"Why are you so concerned about things that don't matter anymore? Can't you just get over it?"

"Were you trying to hurt me the way I had hurt you? Did you want me just so that you could throw me away and rub my face in it?"

"You know what, Enrique? Maybe I did. Maybe after all these years, I wanted to see you hurt. You want me so badly, well congratulations, you got me. I can leave you behind too, though. My life didn't stop when you left; I have friends who actually care about me and not just about themselves." He paused, head downward toward the ground. "I hate you, Enrique. You know that, right? I absolutely hate you…"

My breathing was becoming unsteady as I attempted to hold myself together. I couldn't break in front of him, he already thought that I was only thinking about myself by coming here, he already believed I didn't care about him, I couldn't let him see me cry when I was deserving of any pain he wanted to give me. My body seemed unable to stop itself, though, face contorting as I bit a quivering lower lip.

Don't cry you asshole, don't make everything worse.

Closing my eyes, I made one last unsuccessful attempt to stop myself as the heat of my tears trailed down one of my cheeks. I couldn't look at him, I knew what he must be thinking of me. I wasn't being manipulative, though. This wasn't a state I had ever wanted him to see me in. Holding my breath was the only was I could stop myself from sobbing and I didn't think my lungs could last much longer. I needed to breath.

The rattle of a large sob rang out and I opened my eyes. I had just been about to force myself to breath, afraid of making the noise that I had just heard. That wasn't me though, and now as I looked down, I saw Oliver, eyes hidden behind bangs that weren't nearly enough to hide the streaks of tears that ran down his face.

"Ollie…" I touched a hand to him, palming his cheek gently and wiping one away. Leaning in, I touched my lips to his, not the way I had yesterday, not to prove anything. It just felt like what I was supposed to do. Unlike the first kiss, he didn't pull back, instead taking a small step toward me. His lips puckered against my own and he brought his hands out, gently grabbing my arms and squeezing.

The kiss didn't last long, ending with my forehead pressed against his, mouths close enough where I could feel the heat of his breath on me. Before the moment was able to sink in, Oliver cleared his throat, backing away from me and brushing a hand against his damp face.

"Let's go." He said, opening the door to his bedroom.

"You don't have to, I can call for a ride."

"You wanted to get coffee, didn't you?"

My heart fluttered at the statement, a tiny smile sneaking onto my face as I watched him. Although his eyes remained somewhat red, it seemed that a load had been suddenly lifted and I found myself finally seeing the boy I had once left behind.

I would do everything in my power to not lose him again.