The breaking point
How come I see you and ache instead?
How come you only look pleased in bed?
-- Glass Animals, Pork Soda
Something inside him just wasn’t right. No matter how hard he tried to loosen up and enjoy himself, it was simply impossible to ignore the gaping chasm that ate him up inside. It grew with each passing moment, a reminder that he was wasting his very precious and finite time with Laith not really there. His body was present, but his mind was far away, on the inevitability of their demise, on how quickly he’d have to say goodbye. The fact that he didn’t know how soon that would be only made it worse.
When would Laith finally get tired of him? Minutes slipped away like sand spilling through his fingers. Once again, his efforts were useless; he couldn’t keep either Laith or Ryan around. What was so undesirable about him? Tangentially, how much longer would he be able to swim against the current? His arms were getting tired. The longer he forced it, the more it was starting to seem like giving up was his only option. The goal was unachievable.
“Hey.” Laith’s voice drew his eyes up, eyebrows raised. He found concern there, digging a crease into Laith’s forehead. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been out of it all night. Feels like you’re not really here.”
“I’m sorry. I—” His mouth moved, yet nothing came out—useless. To make matters worse, a knot tied around his throat, eyes growing damp. God, he wanted to kick himself into unconsciousness. “This just isn’t a good day for me,” he finally explained.
“Did something happen?”
“Um.”
He could be truthful. That was the first thing that crossed his mind, telling the truth, screaming from the top of his lungs that, actually, he’d changed his mind and wanted off this ride now. It wasn’t all fun and games anymore; a prize off the shelf could never satisfy him. He wanted far too much. Then again, if he said any of that, Laith would kill what Theodore so desperately fought to keep alive. What he so desperately needed to keep alive.
“I guess seeing Ryan messed me up more than I thought. Sorry.”
A dark eyebrow arched with Laith’s skepticism, but nothing came of it. Instead, he opened another beer. “Let me know if there’s anything I could do to help.”
“I will.”
Both of them knew that he wouldn’t.
***
The closeness was unbearable. Each kiss tore into his heart with a sharp blade and each touch burned his skin with branding iron. He hated how convincing Laith was, kissing him like he meant it, holding him like he loved him. It was agonizing. It hurt like nothing he’d felt before, an ache that closed his throat around a lump and shoved rocks in his mouth. Was this how Laith treated every one of his partners? The amount of care and attention he put into it could make anyone feel special. It was hard to believe he didn’t have a group of lovesick ex-nothings following him around all day.
Theodore just couldn’t take it. Cut up and burned, he told Laith to be rough, to fuck him like he hated him—and mean it, he almost added. I want you to fucking hate me. Somehow, that put a big smirk on Laith’s face, playful and mean. Oh, he thought it was a kink, that Theodore was experimenting again, the way he’d done all week. That was fair. Any normal person would’ve jumped to that conclusion. Laith still complied, so he didn’t have a reason to explain himself.
With his face buried into a pillow, it was much easier to forget who he was and just focus on the hands that grabbed and pulled. It didn’t hurt. Actually, it was much nicer than he’d wanted it to be, with none of the suffering he’d hoped for. He wasn’t really sure what he’d wanted exactly; all he knew was that he didn’t really want to enjoy it. He’d been looking for a clean cut between him and Laith, a reason not to come back. Unfortunately, Laith could make even pain feel good. The fingers that pushed into the bruises on his thighs were a big argument to keep him coming back.
As soon as they were done, Laith was nice again—as if he’d ever really been bad in the first place—kissing down his neck, pulling him close. A whisper asked if he was okay, and ironically, the affection in Laith’s voice was what hurt him the most. His heart writhed, snapping arteries like twigs. Yeah, he was fine. An arm pushed Laith off to make room for an escape—he couldn’t be here anymore. Looking at Laith’s face earlier was already difficult enough; he couldn’t possibly do it during the afterglow. He wasn’t that strong.
“Are you leaving?”
That question bashed him over the head. There was no heartbreak in Laith’s voice, just curiosity, but the shame it invoked practically burned him alive. His lungs drew in shallow breaths, face warm. With his back turned, he slipped his boxers on.
“Yeah, I have class soon.” A quick glance at the nightstand let him know that his lie had been a relatively good one. His first period was in two hours. “I need to get ready and get my things,” he continued, stepping into his pants. “It takes a while to go home and then go to college. Plus, I need a shower and breakfast, so.” As his brain scrambled for more excuses, he realized Laith didn’t actually know what time his first class was. He could lie and say it’d be in an hour.
“You could leave your stuff here next time,” Laith suggested. “Bring it with you, so when you leave, it’s a straight shot from here to campus. What do you want for breakfast?”
His throat closed. What did he want for breakfast? He didn’t have breakfast. The last time he’d had breakfast was at Justin’s place. His vision threatened to blur, arms working his shirt into place. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll, uh—I’ll bring my bag next time.” He picked up his hoodie and began to put it on, eyes searching for his shoes. His movements were frantic and quick; if he did three things at once, he’d be out the door within the minute.
“There’s a diner nearby.” Laith’s voice was closer than before. Theodore didn’t have to look to know he’d gotten out of bed too, large in his peripherals, a presence that towered over him. “Do you like eggs and bacon? I think it’s my favorite dish. Breakfast-wise, I mean. Eggs, bacon and orange juice.”
Theodore quickly turned around, eyes wide. “I can’t stay.”
Those words left him without a thought. The suddenness of it put a look on Laith’s face, curious.
“You mean for breakfast?”
“Yeah. I have to go home anyway, so I’ll just grab a bite there.” He found his shoes half-hidden under the bed, right behind Laith’s feet. On an impulse, he approached and took Laith’s arms to move him out of the way. Confused but still compliant, Laith stepped aside, letting him toe his shoes on.
“Okay…” A hand touched him on the arm very softly. His eyes dropped to it, body halting all movement. Both shoes were on. “Are we good?”
Frozen in place, he couldn’t look up. The stare prompted Laith to pull his hand away.
“Was it something I did? ‘Cause if it was, you can just tell me.”
His heart shattered. “You didn’t do anything.” He spoke while facing the bed, unable to look Laith in the eye. If he did, he knew every nerve-ending in his body would scream in pain. He couldn’t even picture the look on Laith’s face without feeling like he’d swallowed a dagger—what a coward. His feet took a couple of steps backwards, eyes down on the floor. “I’ll be back later.”
A few quick steps rushed him over to the door, where his hand lay on the knob but didn’t immediately turn it. He squeezed it instead, arm shaking—the moment he walked out, his time with Laith would be over. His jaw trembled, heart lodged in his throat. Oh god, he wasn’t ready for it to end. He didn’t want it to end. The prospect of leaving Laith erased the pain of being around him the same way a gunshot was a possible cure for a cut on the hand—or wrist. He squeezed his eyes, breathing in quickly. He couldn’t leave him. He was helping; his friendship was helping and if he came back only to find Laith with even more scars, he’d never forgive himself.
He slowly turned around. Knowing the look he’d find on Laith’s face didn’t shield him from the emotional pang that came with it. Green eyes watched him under furrowed brows, upset and concerned—his fault. He wanted to shoot himself point blank in the face. With his heart bleeding in his mouth, he walked back over to Laith and took both of his elbows, staring him hard in the face. He had to do it; there was no way around it. His lips pursed, tears threatening to fall—he didn’t let them. A big breath filled his shaky lungs.
“I love you.”
The utter shock that widened Laith’s eyes and drained all color from his face was all Theodore needed to see. Now he really had to leave. His hands gave Laith’s arms one big squeeze before letting go, feet adding some space between them. There was nothing else to be said, and anyway, he didn’t want to hear anything either. Without another word, he approached the door and pulled it open.
The outside embraced him like an iron maiden, door closed behind him—the last nail in the coffin. He’d finally done it.
***
The part that hurt the most was the fact that he still had an hour and a half before his first class and all he could think was how he’d have to spend it without Laith. Opportunity wasted, tossed out the window; everything related to Laith hurt. He had a knife stuck in his chest and every time he moved, it shot an ache down his body. Well, now Laith knew. Would he still want to hang out? Laughter came up Theodore’s throat, but what actually came out was a sob. People glanced at him, so he pulled the hood over his head and kept walking. It didn’t matter; he was already dying inside.
Luckily, the girls were still asleep when he arrived, so he could crawl into bed and scream. His face was pushed deep into his pillow, further than a moment ago, when Laith had climbed on top of him. He screamed his throat raw, fisting the sheets, casually on fire. It burned every organ very painfully and very viciously, but in a detached sort of way, where the fire didn’t really attribute itself any of the blame. Theodore didn’t either; it was his fault, after all. He deserved to burn. In fact, the fire did him a favor.
When his scream died out, the tears came. He couldn’t help it; they squeezed out painfully, as if two hands wrung his heart out like a wet rag. In the hands’ defense, his heart was very heavy. What were wet rags good for anyway? They wrung violently, twisting his insides. It hurt so bad that Theodore would soon rather swallow a razor blade than see this through. Unfortunately for him—because fortune just seemed to have abandoned him altogether—this was inescapable. He was strapped to the passenger seat of a moving car.
He sobbed and hiccupped as if attending his own funeral, small and pathetic. If anyone saw him, they’d think he’d just lost a loved one, not that he’d confessed his rotten guts to a stranger—but god, Laith was so much more than that. Laith was so much more than that. Laith was—well, he was everything. He was Theodore’s entire life. Without him, what would Theodore do? What would he strive for? He didn’t have a single goal in life other than getting near Laith. Now that he’d climbed the mountain and seen the other side, was there anything left for him to do? Living beyond the mountain had never been an option. He knew the rules; he’d signed the contract of his own free will. Idiot.
A sudden movement shook his stomach, startling him. It scared him so much that his tears almost rushed back into his eyes. When the movement repeated, he realized it was his phone, buzzing in his kangaroo pocket. He sat up near the edge of the mattress and pulled his phone out, bright in the dark, the only light source in his room. Coming in, he hadn’t even bothered to turn on a light. Emily’s name was on the screen—why would she call him so early in the morning? A hand wiped his cheek while the other swiped right to accept the call. He sniffled quietly before bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Theo. Are you okay?”
He stared at the empty desk across from him. Had Laith told her something? “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Why? Do you need anything?”
“Yes, actually; there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about Laith.”
His heart skipped.
“If you’re not busy, I’d like to discuss this over breakfast,” she proposed. “How’s eggs and toast?”
“At your place?”
“Yeah. Ryan’s not up yet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Why can’t we talk over the phone?”
“Oh, I’m old-fashioned. I want to see you.”
He swallowed. God, he probably looked like shit. “Okay.”
“Great; come as soon as you can. We wouldn’t want Ryan to wake up in the middle of our talk.”
Alright, message received.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
“See you then!”
He brought the phone down with a shaky breath. Was this actually about Laith? Something told him it was a trap, that Emily already knew what had happened between them and had only used the Laith tactic to lure him over. If she did know, then Laith was quick on the draw. How long had it been, twenty minutes, half an hour? He wiped both of his cheeks and got up.
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