In The Depths

Loneliness is like a deep dark void, with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. As much as I try, I just get deeper into the depths of loneliness, and into the depths of my soul. I just want to get out. I don't deserve this.

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7. Admit It

I’m resting outside the cool brick wall of Will’s apartment complex. Again, I’ve ran away from my problems, and now I feel like a total wuss. The embarrassment is clouding my mind. It hurts to think about the stupid thing that I’ve just done: Failed to kiss the man I love.

I slump down, spreading my legs in front me and sighing. I decide to just sit here and rest in this numb state, watching the cars speeding down the road, listening to the neon lights buzzing and flickering, feeling the crisp night air flap underneath my clothing and hair.

“Louis!” I snap my head to the right. The sound of my name echoes against the outside hallways. “Louis, where are you?”

I stand up slowly. I do not want to speak to anybody at this moment. “Here…” I say, numbly.

Harry runs out, of all people. He’s taking deep breaths in and out, obviously tired from running down all those steps. “That’s one flight of stairs back there, huh?”

I just stare at him, wordless. It feels like whatever I do or say to him would upset him, being I already did upset him earlier. The moonlight reflects onto his face, making his cheekbones look hollowed, and the space under his eyes deeper. A wave of… I don’t even know that to call it washes over me. Just that fact that a human this perfect was made, and that I have had the honor to meet him is wonderful. But I can’t even make him happy. I can’t even press my lips against his.

“Oh, c’mon Louis,” he sighs, putting his hand on my shoulder. When I flinch, he takes it off again. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Yes,” I sigh. “You are.”

“Louis. It’s fine. I know it’s weird for you to kiss a boy, and I completely understand. I…”

“Harry, it’s not that.” I look down at my feet, avoiding his intense gaze. “I’m- I’m gay too, okay?”

I catch a glimpse of Harry’s reaction. He looks stunned, like my words just slapped him in the face. Why would he be stunned anyway? It’s not like it’s anything weird, I mean… he’s gay! “Really?”

“Yeah. I knew if I’d told you sooner it would be awkward, because, well, you know.” I shake my head slowly. It would have extremely awkward admitting to Harry that I was gay the first time I’d met him. He would automatically assume I was crushing on him and ignore me.

“Louis, we can be friends even though we both are gay. Straight people hang out with their opposite genders and they don’t have to like them. Anyway, I doubt you like me like that. What is there even to like?” Harry is obviously self-conscious of himself, being he doesn’t know the likeable traits about his own persona.

“Harry there is things to like. You just don’t notice them.” And before I know it, I’m spilling out all my confessions of how I like him. But not once do I say I actually like him. “There are lots of things like about yourself, Harry. Like the way your dimple emerges on your face whenever you smile; like the way you stare off into the distance, your facial expressions showing the mix of thoughts rushing through your head. Harry, love the fact that you can whip out funny jokes at every given moment. You make people happy at the best times, and-”

I stop. I’ve said too much. Basically, I’ve just admitted I like Harry. Great, just great. Now he seriously will run away from me. Everything is all screwed up. Everything now is just one heap of twisted emotions of like and dislike.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“For what?” Harry says back. He moves his body closer to mine, and his warm, silky breath is waving against my face. I swallow, taking in the pure beauty of him, but the nervous waves are throwing my mind off track.

“I’m sorry for making everything so awkward.”

“It isn’t awkward, Louis.”

“What?”

“I like things about you, too.”

“I-you…what? But I thought…”

“Shhhh..” Harry puts a long finger to his full lips, and I quiet myself. “I like the way your voice cracks when you’re finished speaking. I like the way you have to roll up the bottom of your jeans because they’re too long for your legs. I like the way your mustache lines the top of your lips; all fuzzy like that. I like the way that you get all nervous whenever you speak, and your face gets all red, and I like that way that you can keep secret this whole time.”

My face is clearly red, I can feel the warmness against my skin, and my heart feels like it’s beating through my veins, shaking my frail body. “What secret?"

“That you’re madly in love with me.”

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