Our eyes met. “I haven’t properly kissed you in weeks, sweetheart,” Alex said. And something was off about his tone. Maybe I hadn’t been as good at hiding my feelings. Maybe he knew.

Fuck, I really hoped he didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt him. I still loved him so much. I didn’t—and still don’t—know what was wrong with me. “I’m sorry,” I blurted, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. And I started crying. Full on, ugly, disgusting sobs. “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

His hand came to rest against my stomach. He sighed. “I’m not mad, you know.”

My eyes widened. I gasped. He wasn’t? Seriously? “Y-you’re not?”

Alex shook his head. He led me to the couch, where we laid down and cuddled. I had forgotten how much I’d missed being close to him, even though, in that very moment, it felt wrong, because he was not the only person on my mind. “You can’t control your feelings,” Alex told me. And then, “You’re crying because of Isaac, if I’m not mistaken?”

As much as I was afraid that acknowledging this problem would ruin our relationship, I ended up nodding. “Yeah…” My voice was muffled against his shoulder. I was still dressed, and my backpack was weighing me down. The contrast would have probably been weird to see for an outsider, because Alex, on the other hand, was just in his boxers and a light shirt.

His heart was beating so loudly I could hear it; even though my ear was barely pressed to his skin.

“Do you still like me?”

I froze.

I didn’t want to imagine what kind of headspace Alex had gotten in, if he had to ask me that question. “Of course, I do.” I pulled away, and held both his shoulders between my hands. “Of course.” Alex looked hurt. Or maybe, uncertain is the better word here, I don’t know.

“Then, why are you avoiding me?”

Shit, I thought, he sounded hurt, too.

What had I done?

“Why don’t you ever kiss me anymore, David? What’s…” He pursed his lips together. His eyebrows arched up in pain. “What’s going on?”

The question lingered between us like venom. I wish I could have taken a huge fan to blow it away. Of course though, it’s never that simple.

“I feel guilty.” I didn’t mean to raise my voice; I did it anyway. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with us,” I said, and Alex reached out to hold my hands. “Alex, this is—” I sniffled. “Everything’s perfect. I shouldn’t want someone else. But I—” I do.

I do.

I couldn’t say it.

I averted my gaze. “I don’t know what to do,” is what I told him, in the end.

Instead of asking questions, Alex wrapped his arms around my neck. “You could start by taking a shower,” he said. “With me?”

Outside, a crow flew past our window. I paused. “You don’t mind?”

He laughed. “David, I already told you, I’m well aware that you can’t control your feelings. But, what you can control, is what you do with them—and, right now, I commend you for being honest. And I…” Alex fell silent. He grasped at the hems of his shirt. “I truly won’t hold it against you if you realize that Isaac is… better.”

The way he said the word better killed me, diary.

Fuck, honestly, claiming this wasn’t going well would have been an understatement.

By the time Alex had finished trying to reassure me, he was holding back cries and broken hiccups. He made fists into the fabric of my jacket, and tensed against my chest.

“It’s not a contest,” was the only thing I could say. “I’ll never think that you’re less than, just because I’m interested in someone who isn’t you.” And yeah, maybe that wasn’t something I should have just told him, like that, without warning. Because then Alex quickly stepped away from the couch—from me. He recoiled in on himself.

“I’m sorry, David.” He tried to force a smile across his lips; it didn’t work. “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.” He brought a palm to his lips and kept it there. Although he was refusing to face me, I could tell that Alex’s eyes were red, swollen, and damp with his tears.

I didn’t have the opportunity to reply. Because Alex walked away. He stormed back into his office, then locked the door shut. And now I’m here, still on the sofa, trying to recollect my thoughts, and I don’t know what to do.

The click of Alex’s office door being locked plays on repeat in my mind like a broken record I can’t fix.

I can hear him crying. And I’m crying, too. And there’s no way for us to make it better, or to console one another, because we’re the reason for each other’s pain.

“Fuck,” I whimpered, as I grasped at my knees and dug my nails into my skin.

“Fuck.”

Why am I like this?

I’ve ruined everything.