Requited

"Ooh fuck, that feels amazing." Says fucking Chad.

His voice sounds like it's being squeezed through a sieve. For a mad second, I think about getting up and asking to join them. I know I can't find my voice, so I think, maybe I should just get up and run my hand up and down Andy's back. He's naked. I know it. I heard them unzipping. I heard two zippers coming undone. I heard two belts fall to the floor.

I don't move though. I can't. It would be crazy. Obviously, it would be completely out of order. That's not the real reason I don't move though. The real reason I don't, is because I know, deep in my soul, deep in every fibre of my being, I know that if I get up, it's going to be to prove Andy wrong. I know, if I get up, it's going to be to kick the living shit out of Chad. The level of aggression I feel, is out of this world. I've never felt anything like it. Right then, for the first time in my life, I feel as though I could be dangerous. As if, I could hurt someone. My fists are clenched so tightly, I can feel my fingernails digging into my palms. I dig my nails into my skin as hard as I can. I'm grateful for the distraction. I'm grateful for the pain. I'm grateful for anything that takes my mind off the fact I just heard the sound of a condom wrapper ripping.

Chad makes an horrific sound. A deep, abhorrent groan. He sounds like something that's been pierced. Perforated. Impaled. He keeps groaning and groaning. Andy is begging him to be quiet.

As usual, Andy and I are in total agreement.

"Shhh," Andy begs him, "Be quiet, you'll wake my roommate."

His voice sounds different. It sounds nothing like it usually does. Well, I think, there's something new for you. There's something you didn't know about Andy Montgomery. His voice goes hoarse when he's balls deep in a guy.

Isn't that lovely? Isn't that something you didn't know before? Isn't that what you always want? To know things about Andy?

"Quiet!" Hisses Andy, "If you don't be quiet, I won't let you come."

His words cut through me. Not just his words. Not just his voice. It's the way that he says it. It arouses me so much, I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop myself from moaning. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm going insane. I feel like I'm being turned inside out. Not in a good way. In the worst way. Everything is uncomfortable. Everything hurts. My skin is crawling. I'm having the single worst experience of my entire life, and at the same time, I'm more turned on than I've ever been.

I reach down, easing my boxers down with one hand, freeing my dick. I start stroking slowly. Very slowly. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if there are two guys in the world who would instantly recognise the sound of a guy fapping, it would be my best friend, Andy, and the Chad he's brought into his bed.

I stroke so lightly I'm hardly touching myself. Right from the start, I'm on the edge. I stay there, on the ledge, hanging on by a thread. I stay there as Chad is panting and whimpering. It goes on and on. It sounds like he's suffering. It sounds like he's trying to give birth. It's a Goddamned mercy when he finally comes. I'm still on the edge. I'm still waiting. I'm waiting for Andy. I wait and I wait until I hear him exhale. The sound is so soft, I almost miss it. I don't though. I know his breath. I know how he breathes. That sigh is different. It's a soft, shivery sigh. It's a sigh of relief. Release. His lungs quiver when he does it. Mine do, too. I can hear it. I can feel the way he shudders when he does it. I can feel it, all the way across the room.

I shudder, too.

Afterwards, I hear them laughing. They're happy. They've just had fun.

"I can't find my pants." Giggles Chad. I see the outline of Andy bending over, scooping Chad's pants off the floor. I hear them moving around. Chad's zipper goes up. I think Andy's helping him get dressed. That makes me want to cry.

Get the fuck out of here, Chad. Get out while you can.

"The rumours about you are true." Gushes Chad. "I want to do that, again."

Run, Chad, run. You have no idea how much danger you're in.

I hear the door click shut, when fucking Chad finally leaves. I feel sick and weak. I feel hot with anger and shock.

"Next time," I spit, "just let the guy moan so he can come."

* * * * *

In the morning, I feel awful. I think of all the times I've brought girls back to our room. Andy's never said, "Boo." He must have heard everything. He must have. No way anyone could sleep through that. Even if it doesn't mean anything to him, he must have heard, and he's never complained. I feel terrible. I feel like a bad friend.

"Sorry, about last night," I say, "I was tired, and I was out of order."

He just looks at me and shrugs sheepishly. As if it's no big deal. It feels like a very big deal to me. To me, it feels like the end of the world. I feel battered and bruised. Honestly, I feel as though I've survived some sort of trauma.

I wish I could talk to someone about this.

More than anything, I wish I could talk to Andy about this.

* * * * *

It was a relief, heading home for Christmas. It was a relief being in my own room. Having my own space. It was a relief not having Andy and all of his hotness around me. It was great to spend time with my mom. I decompressed. I saw my ex-girlfriend, Janine. That was good, too. When I started college, I was hung up on her. I guess, you could say, she was my first love. She's a couple of years older than me. She taught me a lot. It was nice to see her. She looks like she's doing well. I'm happy for her but I didn't feel what I expected to feel, when I saw her. She just seemed like someone I knew from a long time ago. It was nice. It's what you'd call closure, I guess.

I spent the vacation doing a lot of soul searching. I've definitely been problematic in the way I've been thinking about Andy. It was completely inappropriate for me to jerk off while he was having sex. Really, really inappropriate. It's definitely wrong to insert yourself into someone else's sexual encounter without their consent. To participate like that, without them even knowing. I'm very embarrassed about it. He's my friend, who I love. And, he's my friend, who happens to be gay.

I just need to work out a way, to live with both of those things. Dishonourable West needs to get a grip.

That's all.

* * * * *

Right off the bat, the second semester doesn't get off to a good start. Andy gets back from Christmas in Aspen with a five-day stubble. A dark shadow that emphasises his cheekbones and highlights his eyes. I wasn't emotionally ready for that. The sight of him like that, with facial hair, should come with a warning. He definitely shouldn't just walk into a room, looking like that, without calling ahead, without issuing a caution. Despite my best intentions, I'm off to a very bad start.

Right away, I'm watching him again. I watch the way he moves. There's something about it that's so sexy, I can hardly explain it. He moves in this slow, considered way. It gives me time to see how all the different parts of him are working together to make it happen. He has this effortless, careless way of swinging his arms and moving his hips. It's natural to him. It's not like he's trying to do it, or anything. It's just the way he walks. Something about the way his hips move give me a very uneasy feeling. An uneasy feeling in my dick. A feeling that he's someone who really, really knows how to fuck.

I watch him intently. I watch him all the time. I watch him as he draws. It's crazy how talented he is. Honestly, you've never seen anything like it. His work is amazing. He doesn't just paint people. He paints a moment in time. A split second, no-one else saw. The way he sees things, is amazing. The way he sees people, is beautiful. He sees things differently from everyone else.

He paints a feeling, not just a face.

While he does it, I do what I always do. I sit there, watching him, while I pretend to work.

What are you thinking, Andy?

I think that over and over. Now, when I do it, I stroke my stubble with the back of my hand. I feel the roughness of my face against my hand. I watch him when I do it. I imagine I'm touching his face. I can't stop thinking about it.

I'm not proud of myself, but I keep letting him catch me wanking. I've done this before. The first time it happened, it was an honest mistake. That time, I thought I saw him looking down. I've done it again, since then. I've done it a few times. Now, when I do it, it's far from a mistake. It's far from honest. It's Dishonourable West at his best. Or his worst. I lie there, waiting on my bed, fly open. Hard. I wait until I hear his footsteps in the hallway. I start stroking when I hear his key in the door.

"Sorry." I say, when he walks in. I make sure I look right at his face, before I zip up. Right in his eyes. I want to make sure, I don't miss it, if he looks down.

Sometimes he does.

And sometimes, he doesn't.

* * * * *

I've stopped bringing girls back to our room. I've stopped completely. Even though he's said many times, he doesn't mind, I stop anyway. I stop, just in case he feels like I do. Just on the very remote chance he does. Just on the off chance. I stop, just in case he feels even one quarter of what I feel. I stop, in case the sound of me with a girl, feels the same for him, as it felt for me, when he was with Chad. I stop, just in case, for him, it also feels like death.

I could never live with myself, if I ever did anything to hurt him.

* * * * *

We're at Tyler and Sarah's for dinner. Tyler has insisted on making Thai food for us. It's a really good evening. We cook together. Andy chops and I taste, while Sarah lays the table and Tyler, who is supposed to be the head chef, spends his time ordering everyone around. We eat and drink wine. A very nice sauvignon blanc from New Zealand. We drink a lot. Andy does, too. That's unusual for him. Usually, he doesn't drink very much. Sometimes, I think he might have a fear of losing control. Of letting go.

It's a pity. He's fun when he's a little hammered.

He's definitely a little hammered now. He and Sarah are talking about the time they met up in the Balkans, before we all started college. They drove through Montenegro, stopping in Kotor, before heading down to Albania.

"Remember that night in Durres?" Says Sarah? "Do you remember the restaurant, Andy?"

He smiles and nods.

"That was amazing, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was great."

"Remember the dancing?" Sarah looks around at Tyler and I, "We were in this family-owned restaurant. A really traditional place. It was packed. All the tables were full. I think it was like a birthday or something. We finished our meal and just as we were about to leave, everyone started pushing the tables to the side. Music started and everyone started dancing. They pulled us in, too. Even Andy. Even Andy was dancing. They showed us how. It was amazing."

She drinks a little more of her wine and then finds an Albanian song on her phone. "It was music, like this." She says, cranking up the volume.

"Come on, Andy, let's show them."

She drags a very reluctant Andy to the living room. "Come on, don't be a spoil sport, let's show them."

"Come on, Andy, don't be a spoil sport." Warbles Tyler, his eyes gleaming eagerly as he watches Andy.

Sarah looks at me expectantly, nudging me with her eyes.

"Come on, Andy." I say. "Show us."

He sighs unenthusiastically but starts moving with Sarah. He follows her lead. Mimicking her steps. Tyler gets up like a shot. It's the kind of dance where everyone moves in a line, each with their arm on the small of the back of the person next to them. Tyler wouldn't dream of missing an opportunity like this. I get up too and join in.

It does look like fun.

Sarah has taken a napkin and is waving it around gracefully, which is evidently part of the dance. The rest of us all follow her steps. It's a repetitive dance. It's easy to learn. I can't take my eyes off Andy. The room is dark, lit only by the candles on the dining table. His dark eyes are shimmering. Shining. Reflecting so many things. So, so many things. So many good things.

Good things, only.

I'm watching him like that, when it hits me. He's dancing. Smiling. His hair is falling forward, into his face. He looks a little embarrassed. A little self-conscious. He looks like someone who is made up of good things, only.

That's when it hits me.

I love him.

I'm not just curious. I don't just want his body. I don't just love him as a friend. It's not just a case of, "I love you, man." It's a serious, critical, terminal case of being in love.

I'm in love with Andy.

* * * * *

When we walk home, I'm buzzing. I'm buzzing, not just from the wine. I'm buzzing from being close to him. I'm buzzing because we're walking shoulder to shoulder. I'm talking some bullshit or other. I talk way too much when I get like this. I'm quizzing Andy. I always do, when I know he's a bit wasted. Even though I know him so well now, I'm still constantly trying to find out more about him.

"Have you and Tyler ever been together?"

He looks at me in surprise. Like he's never thought of such a thing.

"No." He says, evenly.

"Why not?"

"Why not?" He says, repeating my question and looking at me as if it should be obvious.

"Not your type, huh?" I ask hopefully.

"Uh, I don't know. I guess I just never thought about it. I don't have a type, as such."

"Sure you do." I say, "Everyone has a type."

I nudge him with my shoulder, teasing a little, "Come on, tell me, what's your type?"

He laughs a little. Like he's laughing at himself. Like he's laughing at a joke I don't understand.

"I guess, straight is my type." He mumbles.

"What?" I say, unsure if I heard him correctly.

"I'm kidding," he says emphatically, "I'm kidding. I don't have a type. If I'm into a guy, I'm into him, okay? I don't have a type."

We walk the rest of the way in silence. I think about kissing him. I think about just grabbing him and kissing him without any warning. I think about telling him I love him. I don't though. Not tonight. Tonight, I can't take the, "Shut up," or the, "Ugh."

I just can't.

As we walk down the street, I make a new deal with myself. A serious deal. A vow. A commitment.

If Andy ever says he loves me back, I'm going to kiss him.

I swear it.

Mark my words. If he says it back, I'm going to kiss him.

Just wait and see.

* * * * *