I open my eyes slowly, letting out a small groan. I’m not going to brother saying that I’m never going to drink again, because we all know that’s as from the truth as I could ever get. I smile slightly at the sight of the arm slung over me.

I can feel him breathing peacefully behind me. We always end up like this after partying or drinking at one another’s or someone else’s house. Asleep, somewhere, pressed up against each other. Nothing ever happens, but it’s a clear cycle. I wake up before he does. I always do, and I see him and just enjoy having him so close to me for while.

Then I fake sleep as he stirs. He wakes up, and watches me for a moment, then gets up and leaves me. And when I ‘wake up’, he always acts like normal.

It’s a constant cycle, and it’s driving me insane. I’m sick of waiting for him either to confess to me that he likes me, or to just stop taunting me.

I shift back slightly, smirking as I feel him stirring. I sense him open his eyes, and he stares at the back of my head.

And that’s when I act. I clamp my hands over his, holding them tightly to my chest. He tugs gently at his arm, trying to nudge me off, but I’ve got an iron grip.

I finally let go of his hand and I hear him sigh in relief. But as he starts to get up, I roll over in my ‘sleep’, anchoring his other arm down with my full weight and moving as close to him as I can, even going as far as to nuzzle into his chest in an affectionate manner, just to really get the juices flowing.

He curses himself, and I fight to keep a straight face. It hurts, it physically hurts.

“Come on, Jay…” he whispers. “Let me out before you wake up…”

It’s not going to happen, Matt. I’m sick of being stuck in this crazy cycle. I want out. And, by all means, I intend to get out.

Besides, you’ve just given me an idea. I shift uncomfortably again, and allow my face to twitch ever so slightly.

He swears again, “No, don’t wake up. Please. God, no.” He gives his arm a sharp yank, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent myself from rolling onto my back, freeing him. He jumps to his feet and leaves the room as fast as possible.

He doesn’t realize that my eyes opened as soon as my back hit the floor.

*****

Another night in. He’s drinking. And he doesn’t seem to have noticed that I’m not. I giggle, however, as he pulls me onto his lap.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he asks breathily, moving my fringe out my eyes with one hand, looking oddly sober. I smiled at him.

“So are you.”

He grins at me, and dips his head slightly to give me a peck on the lips, something he often does when drunk. However, I decide to break the cycle once more.

I press my lips against his, and carefully will him into a proper kiss, carefully making him think it was his idea. I pushed him down onto the sofa so I was on top of him. He shoves me back, an obvious look of panic in his eyes.

“Jay, I can’t.”

I sigh and sit back. “You’re right. Neither can I.” I climb off him, and help him to his feet. Then I quickly spin behind him and place my hands firmly over his eyes.

“James, what are you doing?” he asks warily, putting his hands to mine and trying to peel them away.

“Do you trust me?” is all I whisper in his ear.

He nods without any hesitation, and I carefully guide him towards the stairs and up. I make sure I shut the bedroom door firmly behind me.

*****

I could stare at him for hours. I wish I could.

But he’ll be awake soon, and I know he’ll think I won’t remember it because he thinks I was drunk. He’ll expect me to have forgotten how he confessed his love to me when he finally gave up the resistance and let me have him.

I watch the happy smile on his lips twitch as he stirs. I pretend to sleep again, partly to see what he’ll do, partly because I don’t want to face his excuses. I feel his gaze boring into me, and his lips brush my forehead gently.

“I love you, Jay… I’m so sorry I did this to you…”

He gets up and leaves the room. I follow him, still stark naked, not that that I’m particularly ashamed of my body…

Yup, it’s like a cycle, I think to myself as I head towards his room, which I know he would’ve gone into.

A cycle that’s always different, yet always the same.

The crazy yet clear, claustrophobic cycle that’s slowly devouring us, slowly tearing me apart.

The cycle, I muse, as my fingers curl around his bedroom door handle, that I intend to break right now.