[center][url=http://eleth89.deviantart.com/art/Commission-Fireflies-687451805][img]http://i.imgur.com/1LLtctK.png[/img][/url]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/3R5vYYi.png?2[/img][hr][color=silver]𝕊𝕒𝕥: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /    𝕎𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕠𝕟, 𝔻.ℂ.   / /   ℝ𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕝 ℙ𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖   / /    ~𝟘𝟟𝟘𝟘[/color][hr][/center]
Christmas had never experienced—nor had he ever wanted to—the Hollywood movie scene of waking up alone and naked after a drunken romance. And his hadn’t even progressed any further than first base, leaving all the mistakes of the prior day in the limbo of the uncertain question “Was it worth it?”

No. His answer, with the mild ache of hangover gnawing in a tight band around his head and Sander nowhere in sight, was no. He shouldn’t have continued drinking despite how appealing the drink was in flavor. Yesterday’s events still replayed too clearly for him and he wondered if his morning would have been easier had he simply forgotten it all. He’d crossed a line, even if it was just a step. That was a mistake, no matter how he tried to console himself about it, and Sander disappearing so early in the morning was almost definitive evidence that whatever they had—however nascent—was now gone. Or, if not entirely vanished, sullied by his drunken stupidity. Were it not for the obvious futility of it, he would have hammered his head against the wall in shame. Instead, he just stumbled with his bundle of clothes into the bathroom, regretting everything and still hoping it was some kind of fever dream brought on by the residues of concussion. There were so many more important things to worry about, like the rest of the world for starters, but he couldn’t think that far around him. He could only think of Sander.

A scared, tired face stared back at him from the mirror and he took little comfort in the old routine of combing shaking fingers through his hair and tying on the new ribbon before even putting on clothes.

A small part of him wanted to blame Sander’s unrelenting closeness, how impossible it was to avoid the temptation of touch and breath and taste when Sander always seemed to tempt in the most unbelievably innocuous ways. But he knew it was a feeble excuse. It wasn’t Sander’s fault he had overdone it his first time drinking and ruined everything between them. Their shared experiences might have been more emotionally binding than some people would have managed in an entire lifetime, but it didn’t change the objective timeline of events. They’d barely known each other past two weeks and already he had managed to make a mess of the first real friendship he had formed after leaving his old life behind. Friendship and something more, and now it was too late to pretend like he didn’t know what that “more” was.

He liked Sander, and it went a little beyond friendship.

But that was wrong of him. Sander wasn’t like him. Wasn’t “weird” like him. 

To force those feelings on someone who couldn’t refuse like Sander was [i]wrong[/i], just like how almost everything about the boy known as Christmas was [i]wrong[/i]. 

[quote][color f7976a]”Wow, you like this stuff? But, like, aren’t you a guy?”

“Oh, that Christmas guy? Yeah, his name’s pretty fruity. Who names their kid ‘Christmas’?”

“He’s dating Alvin? How even? I know Alvin’s gay but where did that come from? They don’t even look good together—what the fuck?”

“It’s so weird seeing those two together, though. Alvin could get basically anyone, right? I thought he was always around Alan ‘cuz [i]those two[/i] were dating…”

“I don’t want to sound mean, but it’s, like, [i]okay,[/i] you know, when someone like Alvin’s gay because, like, his family’s rich and all and he’s good-looking so he can be whatever, right? But if you don’t have that kind of stuff to make up for it, it’s like, not good, you know? To be gay. ‘Cuz what if you’re not even that attractive [i]and[/i] you’re gay—it’s just limiting your options or whatever. Like, all these fish in the sea and all that, but ‘cuz you’re gay you only get like half the choices and if you’re nothing special, like, why bother, right? And, oh my god, did you hear about Cynthia getting pregnant so she had to drop out of school because her parents wouldn’t let her abort the baby? That’s so terrible…”

“He’s kinda [i]weird[/i], right? Like he’s always huddled up somewhere or something. Alan keeps inviting him to the table but no one even wants him there. He’s [i]so weird[/i]. Like he doesn’t even talk to us and he just sits there with his head down—who even wants to deal with that? You think Alan’s just doing it ‘cuz he feels sorry for him?”[/color][/quote]
He knew it was wrong, and for all the apologies he had made yesterday, he had still gone ahead and let the mistakes happen. 

That was the problem with his apologies. They never meant anything because he was still [i]doing[/i] what he was apologizing for.

God, why was he [i]this[/i] stupid? [i]This[/i] desperate? He didn’t want Sander to be a mistake. He wanted—

Cold water splashed onto his face and dripped onto the marble counter top. 

The shock of it relieved him of thoughts for a moment and he repeated the action, trying to keep himself from panicking.

It didn’t work and he felt the shortness of breath coming just as he finished pulling on a fresh T-shirt and pants—that he hadn’t set out for himself, that was for sure, once he realized the clothes were new and clean. Sander again, still taking care of him despite everything.

The soft bed was too large for just him and as Christmas lay there waiting out the gripping fear of losing Sander as a companion he couldn’t help but think that he had just begun expecting Sander beside him too often.

He was sorry. He really was. He shouldn’t have done that. But his apologies meant nothing when his actions wouldn’t correlate. His lungs struggled with breathing for several minutes longer while the anxiety twisted and spun in his stomach. 

When the fear had passed enough for him to stand, albeit unsteadily, he rummaged through the bag of ribbons at the foot of the bed, pulling out a handful at random and trying to hold on to himself in whatever fragile way he could. He wanted to be [i]here[/i], in this moment, because he was supposed to be trying.

What for, he didn’t know now, but if he didn’t at least hold on to that small conviction, he’d be nothing but empty space and static again, like he had been for most of his life. He was scared again and lonely so he clutched the fistful of colorful fabric to his chest and tried to tie happiness down to his heart.