Date: Fri, 27 Mar 2009 10:27:03 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Voices in a Room

	The words refuse to come out.

	"Did you hear me?" he asks.

	"Yes."

	"Don't you have something to say?"

	As quietly as possible, I whisper, "I can't."

	His eyes say it all. "Then I guess that's it." He stands and I
reach for him but I miss his arm. I wonder if it's a sign to let him go.

	"I want to," I say before he reaches the door.

	He stops and turns around. "You want to what?"

	"I want," I pause and try to gather my thoughts and put in to words
the complex emotions surging through me, "I want to feel that way, but"

	He motions for me to stop, "But you can't," he says with annoyance
and anger fighting for control of his voice and face. "You can't. Let's
just leave it at that."

	He reaches for the door. "Wait, let me explain."

	"What is there to explain? You can't say it. Nothing I say or do is
going to change that."

	I see him lose a tear and that makes my heart ache. "Carl, it's
not"

	He yells before I can finish, "If you say those words I swear! Shut
up! Just shut up!"

	The anger in his voice stifles my next comment and I watch as he
walks out and slams the door behind him. I know the whole situation is my
fault. One minute I was dumping him, the next we were having sex and then
he was putting on his clothes to go to his evening lab. He kissed me
goodbye and he said it. He knew I wouldn't say it back. I never did, but he
said it anyway. He said it and then he confronted me and left angry.

	I should have told him we were over and left it there, but I had to
have him one last time. I had to run my fingers through his hair and caress
his soft skin and kiss his lips. I had to smell him and feel him beneath me
once again. I got what I wanted but I felt like shit.

	Correction, I still feel like shit. I hurt Carl again. I keep
hurting him because I can't make up my mind. I want him but I don't want
him. I know what the problem is but I won't tell him. I won't look him in
his eyes and say that I can't love him because I know he's going to leave
me one day and I can't allow myself to be hurt like that. Not again. Not
ever. When I think about him I think of someone I have a lot of fun with
but that's as far as it goes. I can't let myself see further than that.
People like me don't get happy endings and I would be fool if I believed
differently.

	When he looks at me, all I see is love in his eyes and all I do is
wonder how long that will last. I know he can't love me forever. Sometimes
I feel guilty because I know I'm the problem in our relationship. He has to
see the fear in my eyes when I forget to look away.

	He's everything I want. He's got the cutest face I've ever seen,
he's got a decent body that's sexy and soft, not defined and hard like mine
and he's the best friend I have ever had. He is quite a guy. He was my
friend before we started this thing between us and I hope he will still be
my friend when this thing is officially over. I say officially because this
thing has been over several times but each time we fall in to our old
routines and end up in bed together.

	Part of me wishes we didn't share a room. Everything would be
easier if I could avoid him and go on with my life. It's seeing him every
day that pulls me back in and prevents me from ending it and truly being
done. He walks around the room in his boxers and I see him and think about
all the great sex we've had and that makes me horny and eventually I give
in and have sex with him because he's there. The rational part of me that
knows we should cut our losses is always outvoted by the emotional part of
me that tells me I can't live without him. He is too important to me.

	I lie on my bed and wrestle with my thoughts. I am still in bed
when Carl returns from his lab. He walks in the room and comes and sits on
the foot of my bed. "Kevin, why do we go through this every few weeks?"

	"Because I know I'm wrong for you."

	"You know you're wrong for me but you won't leave me alone. We
break up and then you start things over again." He places his hand on my
leg. "You don't love me and I respect you for not ever saying you did but I
don't respect this game you've been playing with my heart. I love you and
I've been open about that but I'm not going to spend the rest of my life
being just your sex buddy. I'm going to ask you a question and I want you
to answer honestly. Can you do that?"

	"Don't I always?"

	"Okay. Do you think you could ever love me?"

	I hesitate for a moment. "No."

	"Fair enough." He stands slowly like he is fighting gravity. "So I
assume we're done."

	"I guess."

	He looks at me with no trace of tears in his eyes. "I mean we're
done for good this time. I'm not going to have sex with you anymore."

	"Okay."

	"I'll go to Student Housing and request a new room tomorrow."

	Time stops as soon as those words leave his lips. He's never said
that to me before. He wants to leave me. I fight the sudden urge to grab
his hand and apologize and beg him to stay. I love having him around. He's
my best friend.

	"Carl, I"

	"Don't try to talk me out of it. We both know it's the only way
this will end. If I stay here it's going to be too hard for both of us and
one day we'll stop fighting it and give in and then we'll end up here again
in this exact same spot having the exact same conversation. I'm tired of
having this conversation."

	"Carl, its"

	"I have to do this. I have to leave." He grabs a small duffle bag
and starts throwing clothes in it.

	"You don't have to pack now," I tell him.

	"Yes I do. I'm spending the night at Maggie's."

	"You can"

	"No, I can't stay here."

	I pick up a book and throw it across the room. It hits his dresser
and falls to the floor. "Can I please finish a sentence?"

	He stands up straight and drops the shirt in his hand. I have his
full attention and now I have to think of something to say. He stands there
and waits for me to speak but I lie on the bed and stare at him instead. We
have so much history. We've had some great times together. He's closer to
me than I've ever let anyone get before.

	He shifts his weight to his other foot then asks, "Kev do you have
something to say or not?"

	"I don't want you to go."

	He rolls his eyes in annoyance. I guess he expected me to say
something else. He probably thought I was going to say those words he wants
to hear. I sure fooled him. He goes back to packing his bag but now he's
packing twice as fast as before. I watch him zip up the bag and walk
towards the door. My heart starts attacking my chest. It feels like my
heart wants to bore its way out of my body and attach itself to him. I hate
this feeling. I have never needed anyone but I know I need him. I close my
eyes in a feeble attempt to keep the tears from flowing. I can't let him
see how much he's hurting me. I quickly wipe my eyes with the sheet while
his back is turned to me because I know he'll want to see my face when he
says goodbye.

	He stands by the door and pauses then he turns to face me. I can't
believe he is really going to do this. "I'll get the rest of the stuff I
need tomorrow and I'll move everything else as soon as they find me another
room."

	I nod my head and wait for him to say goodbye, but he opens the
door and leaves without saying anything else. I wonder why he didn't say
goodbye, but mostly, I wonder why this time is different. He's never packed
his things and left. He's gotten upset and spent the night at Maggie's
before, but his clothes and his possessions have always stayed with me,
where they belong. He's only gone for a few seconds before I lose myself
completely. I bury my head in my pillow and let the tears flow freely and I
cry and cry and cry until I somehow convince myself to suck it up.

	I wipe the tears away, but the pain remains. My throat is tight and
my mouth is dry and I have a sick feeling all over my body like every inch
of me is personally mourning the loss of Carl. I don't love him. I know I
don't love him. I can't love him. People like me are incapable of loving
anyone. I'll probably never love anyone. I tell myself that the sickness
I'm feeling is from losing my best friend and has nothing to do with the
other parts of our relationship.

	I lie back in bed and try to rest but I can't stop thinking about
Carl. He left me. He actually left me. He packed his bag and walked out the
door and he didn't say goodbye. He is just like all the other people who
have left me.

	The more I think about how things went down, the angrier I
become. How dare he leave me like that; I never would have left him. Not
like that. I would have left him slowly so that he would have time to get
used to the idea of me not being there. I wouldn't have just walked out.

	As the hours pass, I start accepting my share of the blame. I
practically pushed him out the door. I could have stopped him. I could have
said those words he begged me to say. I should have gotten out of the bed
and wrapped my arms around him. I should have planted tender kisses on his
neck, barely grazing his skin with my lips. I should have just said it,
even if I didn't mean it. I should have said it.

	I pick up the phone and call Maggie. The phone rings for a full
minute before she answers, "Kevin its three o'clock in the morning, what do
you want?"

	"Is Carl there?"

	"You know he's here."

	"Is he okay?"

	"He's fine. No thanks to you."

	"Can I talk to him?"

	"He doesn't want to talk to you."

	"Would you give him the phone so he can tell me that himself?" I
must sound pathetic. I feel like I'm begging her.

	"I'm not going to give him the phone so you can convince him to
come back to that toxic waste that you call a relationship."

	"Maggie, please."

	"No. Now go to sleep."

	I want to tell her that I can't sleep but I don't want her to
know. "I just want to talk to him."

	"And I just want to sleep. Goodnight Kevin."

	She hangs up. I dial the number back and she answers and hangs
up. I dial the number again and get a busy signal. I just wanted to hear
his voice. She didn't have to be so cruel. She could have let me talk to
him.

	By morning, I am laying in Carl's bed trying to figure out where
everything went so wrong. It's easy for me to blame foster care. I didn't
have anyone to teach me what love really meant. If I had that, things would
have been different. I would have been different. I would have known how to
express myself and how to define what I felt for Carl in a way that both
soothed his heart and protected mine.

	I have said I love you to only two people: my mother and my first
foster mother, both of whom proceeded to break my heart. I learned early in
life that no love lasts. People thought that they loved me, and some people
even said that they loved me, but none of it was true. I just didn't have
that quality that could make people love me forever.

	I always knew one day Carl would leave me, too. I thought I had
more time. I thought we would continue things the way they were at least
until we finished college.

	I start feeling like Carl was reading my mind. He must have known
that I thought being in the same room was stopping us from being over. I
guess he understood that I couldn't resist him. I tried and tried, but I
couldn't. I wanted him. I wanted to touch him and be near him and talk to
him. I wanted to look at him and feel how much he loved me, even if I
couldn't return that love myself.
	I take a deep breath. I hate knowing the future. I hate predicting
that Carl and I would never work and having it come true. I would give what
little I have to erase that prediction from the books and replace it with a
nicer one. It sucks to be right.

	I hear the door open and I could sit up and try to move off of his
bed, but I honestly don't care if he finds me like this. I don't care that
I may look beaten down and pathetic. He can think whatever he wants to
think about me because he has hurt me worse than anyone has before. He has
ended our game for good and I liked playing with him the most.

	He walks in and I make a point of looking at his face so I can see
his reaction. He's surprised that I'm here. "Don't you have a morning
class?" he asks.

	"I'm not going."

	He should ask me what I'm doing on his bed, but I know he won't. He
will pretend like he doesn't notice it. That's one of the things I like
about him. He knows not to kick a person when they're down.

	"I just stopped by to grab a few things but I can come back later."

	"No, it's okay. I don't mind you being here."

	He walks over to his desk and grabs a book. "I'm on my way to
Student Housing. Maggie says it will probably take a few weeks for them to
find me a new room."

	"Where are you going to stay until then?"

	"With Maggie."

	"You could just stay here."

	He drops the book and I see the tortured expression on his face,
like talking to me is causing him physical pain and he can't wait to leave
the room so he can breathe properly again.

	"I can't do this," he says.

	"You can't do what? This is your room too."

	He laughs almost to himself, but I hear it. He finally looks at
me. "Did you sleep in my bed?"

	"I didn't sleep at all." I stand and I catch him look at my body
before he grabs his book and heads for the door.

	"You should get some sleep," he says in a voice barely above a
whisper. He leaves without giving me the chance to tell him that if he
really loved me, he would stay.
	I lie back down on his bed and accidentally fall asleep. When I
wake up, Carl is packing a black suitcase. Judging by the light coming in
to the room I assume it's the middle of the day. I look at the clock. It's
2:00. I yawn and stretch to let him know that I'm awake.

	"How long have you been here?" I ask.

	"I'm almost done."

	"That's not what I meant. You don't have to rush."

	"Yes I do."

	"Why are you doing this? After all we've been through, why now?"

	He stares at me in disbelief then says, "Because you finally
succeeded in breaking my heart."

	"How? Why was this time so different?"

	He flips the top of the luggage over his clothes then sits on my
bed. "Do you really want to do this?"

	"Yes."

	"Fine. You've always told me that you weren't in love with me. I
used to brush it off and say it was just because of what you've been
through. I mean of course you had some battle scars but you were worth it."

	"So, what are you saying, I'm not worth it anymore?"

	"You're worth it, that's never been an issue. If I didn't think you
were worth it, I wouldn't have held on this long."

	"Then what is it?"

	"You've been telling me that you don't love me and last night, I
finally understood. I heard what you were saying and I saw the look in your
eyes. You love me. You fucking love me, but you'd rather die than admit
it. That's why you play this yo-yo game with me. You let me get close
enough to think that maybe, just maybe I can break through, then you push
me away." He walks back to his suitcase and zips it. "Well you finally
pushed me hard enough. I'm done. I have to be."

	"Why do you have to be?"

	He hits the top of his suitcase and sighs, "I didn't go to my lab
last night."

	"Where did you go?"

	"I went for a walk and I ended up standing on the overpass. For the
first time in my life, I seriously thought about jumping. You've been
pushing me away and pulling me close so much that I don't know if I'm going
or coming anymore. I tell you I love you all the time, because fool that I
am, I thought you would say it back to me one day. I came here last night
with my mind made up. I promised myself that if you didn't think you could
ever love me, I would be done with you for good and I intend to keep that
promise. I can't stay here with you and risk everything starting over
again."

	I want to cry as I listen to him say what I have done to him. His
words are further support of my belief that I am poison. I ruin everything
I touch. I have to let him go before I completely ruin him too. I was
selfishly holding on to him in the hopes that maybe one day I would
discover that I wasn't as damaged as I thought I was, but that day had yet
to arrive.

	I feel like I owe him an apology. "I'm sorry for ruining you."

	"You didn't ruin me." He grabs the handle on his suitcase. "You
ruined us."

	I want to tell him I love him. I want to yell that I have probably
always loved him and been too afraid to admit it, but the fear is still
strong and it holds me back. I can't give in to him or crack because both
are signs of weakness.

	He drags his suitcase to the door. I can't let him leave without
saying goodbye so I tell him, "I'm going to miss you."

	"I'm going to miss you too, but maybe this will turn out to be
what's best for the both of us."

	Maybe he's right. Maybe this will be what's best for the both of
us. I mean I did think it was the only way to end our relationship. We
couldn't live together and keep our hands to ourselves. We had already
tried and failed at that on numerous occasions.

	"Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

	He shrugs his shoulders, "There's no need for that. We'll still see
each other."

	"Will we?"

	He smiles, "Of course."

	I know it's an empty promise. He'll move out and we'll rarely ever
see each other and then when we do it will be uncomfortable and awkward the
first few times and then we'll be polite and we may even work our way to
holding conversations with each other but nothing will be the same. He and
I will walk two different paths and I will be the one lost on a lonely road
that leads to nowhere, while he will be free from my reins and soaring high
above me, no longer weighed down by my inability to love him.

	He knows things about me that I haven't told my therapist. It is
easy to talk to Carl about everything except us. When it comes to us, I
can't talk about it. I feel what I feel and I know that it isn't love. It
can't be love. How can I, with all of my flaws, be capable of loving
anyone? The only thing I know about love is that it hurts too much and the
pain isn't worth it.

	I know Carl loves me so I imagine it must be killing him to stand
in front of me and lie to me. He has to know that friendship could not be
in the cards for us, not after all that we have been through together. He
has to know that I will force myself to ignore him for a while just so I
can hide the hurt.

	"When did you start lying to me?" I ask. He looks at me like he
doesn't understand. "We always used to be honest with each other. Are
things really that different after just one night?"

	"What are you talking about?"

	"If you leave, things will never be the same between us. We'll
never be as close as we once were."

	"Isn't that what you want? Don't you need me to be at an arm's
length so that you feel comfortable?"

	"No, not with you. I've told you things I never thought I would
tell anyone. That means I let you closer than arm's length. I don't
understand why this has to be all or nothing. You love me and I really care
about you. Why isn't that good enough? Why do you always try to push me to
say I love you?"

	"I'm not pushing you anymore."

	"Carl, don't be that way. If you're going to leave then at least
give me this. I deserve the truth about what's going to happen to us."

	"The truth? What truth? Do you want me to tell you that I love you
and you love me but since you're never going to admit it I've decided for
the both of us that we would be better off miserable and alone than
miserable and together? I can tell you that if you want, but will you
listen to it?"

	I stand and walk towards him. He's so sexy when he's mad. His nose
kind of flairs up and his face gets this soft pink tint that makes me want
to lick him from his head to his toes. He takes a step back and hits the
door.

	I whisper his name, "Carl,"

	"I don't want to hear it."
	"But you're so sexy when you're mad."

	"Then I must have been irresistible last night because I was mad
enough to explode." I reach for him. He slaps my hand away. "I'm still mad
and we're still over. I told you last night that I wasn't going to let you
do this to me and I meant it. I deserve better than this."

	He is right. He does deserve better than me, but I realize that I
don't want him to have better than me. I want him to be mine. I want him to
only have me. I grab his hand.

	"I don't want you to have better than this."

	He pulls his hand away. "I know you don't." He pushes me away and
opens the door. "I have to go."

	Time slows down as he takes a step outside the room and he reaches
to close the door behind him. "I love you." The words sound so foreign
coming out of my mouth that I think we are both stunned and a little unsure
if I actually said it.

	He walks back in the room and closes the door. "Did you say
something?"

	"I think I said I love you."

	"Do you think you said that, or do you know you said that?"

	I step back because he is suddenly the embodiment of everything
that scares me. I sit on my bed. "I know I said it. I just can't believe I
said it."

	He drops his bags and I look at his face and see that he is
completely mine again thanks to three little words that led a revolt in my
mouth and won. I hadn't thought about what I was going to say, the words
had come out all on their own, like they had to stake their claim in the
deal before things went too far and they lost the chance to be said.

	"Do you mean it?" he questions.

	"I'm not sure. I think I'm still in shock." I look at him. "Did I
really just say that to you?"

	"Yes."

	We both sit and absorb the moment then I say, "I don't want you to
move out."

	"I'm not going anywhere."

	"Are you sure?"

	"Yeah. I can't leave after we've made such progress." He elbows me
and we both laugh. We have an inside joke about him being my personal
shrink. He's better than any therapist I've ever had and he doesn't even
try.

	We end up having sex because that's what we do best. Afterwards, he
is laying in my arms telling me that he can't take another break up and the
next time it's going to take more than `I love you' to get him to stay.

	I tell him there won't be a next time and I kiss him. I feel guilty
because I know that our relationship has now entered the zone where I lie
to him just to keep him here. I would say anything to get him to stay with
me and I have done just that. I gave in to him and said those words before
I was ready and before I meant them because they were the only collateral I
could offer to get him to drop his suitcase.

	He has made the mistake of becoming important to me. He is all that
I have and I intend to keep him. I am hopelessly addicted to his presence
and he is hopelessly addicted to me. It would be a win-win arrangement if I
could just learn to love him. Until then, I guess the cycle will
continue. At least this time we have a new script.

Copyright Lustyville 2009

Please send comments to lustyville@yahoo.com and check out my other stories
at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lustyville and my website at
www.lustyville.com