Chapter Two

If people had emotes like in the Sims, question marks would be popping up around my head.

Jealousy?

That made no sense to me. In my mind, Del was in a league miles above me. I couldn't think of a single thing he could envy me for.

"There's nothing to be jealous about," I chided. "You're my best friend."

Del's eyes curved, betraying his happiness.

Phew. I said the right thing!

"I'm glad," he replied, glancing down at my cheeks. "Do you need to be held again?"

My heart rate spiked at the low tone he delivered that in. I grew flustered upon realizing it, cursing myself inside while spewing an explanation.

"What? No! I-you didn't hold me, per se. You really performed a clinically proven techique to, you know, release my pent-up anxiety. Again, I'm really sorry that—"

"That what?" Del snapped, eyes flashing. "That your family abused you? That you accepted it because you thought yourself as less? What have we been working on all these years, then? You're allowed to feel stuck or afraid, but know that I'll always be here."

I melted further into the wall. Why was I the one Delton Geiger, recent high school valedictorian and second year student at the Redcrest Institue of Fine Art and Technology, gave all his time to? And I was selfish for letting it happen if only to save myself some pain.

There were plenty of medical and even legal reasons why someone might deem me unfit to be with my best friend, same gender aside. I knew that, but didn't this confrontation blow all of that out of the water? I felt like a turtle flipped on its back in the middle of the highway.

All I could do was try my hardest at keeping up. My high test scores and digital art portfolio were what granted me a scholarship alongside Del. We were here together. It was the best I could do. Couldn't he see that?

"How can you guarantee something like that? What about when you fall in love?"

I looked away as I asked the question, feeling mixed emotions about his potential answer.

"I already have."

The very pillars of my existence rumbled, and I pressed my hand into his chest, pushing Del away despite clutching at his shirt.

"Oh," I breathed.

"Look at me, Uri."

It wasn't a command, it was a plea I couldn't refuse. Del radiated honest concern and I felt rare tears come to the corners of my eyes. He tsked again, but with affection, reaching out to catch the drops before they fell. I didn't move, feeling shaken and hopeful.

Del licked them from his thumbs, holding eye contact.

"Your tears all belong to me," he said with a finality that made my head spin. "No one else can see them. Not anymore."

I blinked, shying away. "What? Why not?"

"You're too beautiful when you cry."

"No one else would think that, and why do you?"

"Because I love you."

Each answer was, yet again, smooth and succinct. Did he ever feel nervous? I blinked at him, the back of my throat drying up.

It was me.

He loved... me?

The hand I had clawed into his shirt anchored and yanked Del closer. He came willingly, letting me control the situation. Yet his knee slotted between mine like a puzzle piece. I steeled myself against the momentary flash of sensation that roared through me when we touched.

I was happy, and he was compassionate, warm and helpful; but I was deemed unfit for any type of normal work environment. My obsession with losing myself in fantasy and art was because I came from a broken home.

Talent forged in blood and tears was the only way I could ever hope to make money and stay on par with my best friend. I was a mess ninety percent of the time and manic the other ten. My intelligence was therefore a hinderance rather than a strength most days.

Why, why, why did he love me?

"I don't know what to say," I confesssd.

Accepting meant finality, it meant taking Del for myself like the greedy lechrechaun at the end of the rainbow. Was I seriously going to shackle him to my reality for the rest of his life?

A knife stabbed through my heart, but Del gave me no time to voice a protest. He cupped my cheek and hovered so close my muscles jumped and quivered with adrenaline.

"You love me," I croaked.

Del nooded. "Romantically, sexually—"

I slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes widening.

"Sexually?" I whispered furiously.

Had it ever crossed my mind? Not really, I mean, objectively Del was handsome. That was a fact rather than a sexual awakening. I was in awe of his soul and mind. We connected on a level I'd never felt with anyone else.

But we met when I was at my lowest in all ways. I was an unlucky kid raised by trash. I didn't dare entertain the posibility of crossing the line.

"Yes," he practically groaned through my palm. "Can I kiss you?"

The fluttering sensation in my stomach spread, making me fidget. My whole hand was tingling. This was moving so fast, and why now? I felt exposed here, aching for privacy.

"No," I replied, trying not to feel guilty. "This is too much, and not here, please, Delton."

I lowered my voice to accommodate being so close, and he seemed to like it, but winced a little at the use of his full name.

"Of course, sorry, I wasn't thinking. We should probably meet with the others anyway, right?"

Then he pushed off the wall, reaching toward the stairwell door. I felt off kilter the moment his steady warmth left my personal space. His disappointment was palable.

"Wait-!"

Del froze, glancing at me."What's wrong?"

"Maybe we can try it later, just to see."

The look on his face would've been comical if it weren't for the circumstance.

"Oh," he replied, glancing away. "Yeah, maybe."

Right before he turned his chin I swear I saw a bit of color across those pale cheeks. I smiled as he slipped out the metal door before me, most likely to give himself time to recover.

I needed it too. My social battery and emotional battery were dead. Not to mention growing numbness in my fingers and toes. Things weren't looking good for me.

Plus, now all I'd be thinking about the entire night is what it will be like to kiss that sinful smile of his.

Will it taste like posion?