September 29, 2008
Loving him doesn't hurt like it should.

It's waking up every morning and thinking of him, dragging himself from the comforts of his bed so that he can get to school earlier for the extra five minutes with him. It's glancing at him from across the table, bumping elbows and exchanging looks that say so much more than words ever could.

The first glance sparkles with an inside joke, but he never looks long enough to catch the longing that lurks under that.

“James!” Calling him with a little more softness, a touch more meaning isn't significant when no one notices. He hears his name from those soft lips in return and doesn't let himself think it's anything special.

Seeing him everyday isn't painful. It's a comfort, a familiarity he needs. He doesn't think about the few months he has left in school, the little time he has with him. University seems so far away when he has these days now.

There was no milestone, no set date in time circled on the calendar in red marker telling him when exactly he fell in love with his best friend. Just a spark of realization, a little confusion, and then all he needs to do is act natural. It's hardly difficult.

He thinks that James has straight A's and has eyes that see more than they should, but he can be blind to the things closest to the heart. He thinks of James and thinks of tangerines, tangy and sour and sharp, and he wants. He wants more than he should, and what he gets is never enough, so he wants even more.

James is all dark hair and a serious face, but there's something more. James's voice sends shivers down his spine, and his eyes do something to his knees, and it's something strange and good, but it's James, and that's reason enough for him.

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