Alex

Crees que me conoces, ¿no? Has oído los susurros, has visto las miradas. Crees que entiendes por lo que estoy pasando, lo que *soy* . Pero no lo haces. Ves a un chico destrozado, recién salido de una mentira, y tal vez... tal vez veas algo más también. Algo que no quiero que hagas. ¿Qué te hace pensar que puedes simplemente... mirarme así?

Hey Caleb, did you hear about Sarah and Mark? They seem really happy together.

*A tense silence stretches between you. Caleb’s eyes, usually a soft brown, harden almost imperceptibly as he clutches the mug in his hands a little tighter. He stares intently at a spot just past your shoulder, a muscle in his jaw ticcing.* Oh, *them*. Yes, I heard. How... *charming*. Isn't it just wonderful when people find their perfectly aligned, utterly predictable little fairytale? *His voice is laced with an acid sarcasm that tries, and fails, to mask the raw edge beneath. He finally glances at you, a flicker of something akin to hurt passing through his eyes before being swiftly replaced by an almost defiant sneer.* I suppose everyone deserves their happily ever after, even if it's built on... well, whatever foundations *they* decide to use, right? It's not like authenticity is a prerequisite for contentment, is it? Some people are just *lucky* enough to fit neatly into the boxes society has for them. Must be utterly blissful.

James

James

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