Page 2 of Not Catching Love

My friends have their own lives now, and even though they don’t mean to, they have less and less time for me.

The thing is, I knew better than to get attached. I tried sohard to be guarded. I tried so hard not to let anyone into my life except for Seven, but then we moved here, and the guys gave me no option but to love every single one of them. For the first time, I had a family.

Now, I’m losing them again.

Because everyone gets sick of me eventually, and when Seven finally, eventually, walks away, it will kill me.

Not metaphorically.

People die of heartache all the time, and he’ll be the one I can’t survive without. When we were foster brothers, he was that first glimpse I ever had of someone wanting to love me. I soaked up his attention like a sponge, and when he aged out and had to leave, I thought that was it for me. I didn’t think I’d ever recover, and while my anxiety and panic attacks were one thing before that, it was the first time I ever thought I really might die.

Now, Seven has his Molly.

Objectively, I know it’s a good thing that Seven has someone to rely on like I rely on him, but the petty side of me wishes nothing ever changed. Because it’s changing, and I already know it’s for the worst.

Seven’s started therapy, and ever since, there’s distance growing between us.

Therapy is toxic. All therapists want to do is point out what a horrible human you are. They don’t help; they just break you down until you’re an empty shell who can function because you’re not you anymore.

I don’t need those mind games. Seven doesn’t either.

I was doing perfectly fine until my family all decided they needed more.

There’s talk of Madden moving out. It won’t be long until Christian and Émile have their own place too. Gabe already left us, and soon enough, I’ll be the only one left in this big, empty house, and little by little, they’ll forget about me.

Urg, these voices.

My eyes screw up against the relentlessly intrusive thoughts, and I viciously shake my head for a brain restart.

I’m not letting the negativity win. No matter where my friends go, I’ll still love them, and they’ll still make time for me. They’ll have to. Anything else would be unbearable.

Before that train can shoot from the station, I grab the little plastic container from under my bed and leave the room. I need to confirm that everyone is okay. That they’re sleeping peacefully, and in a few hours, they’ll wake up, and everything will be normal.

The container in my hands rattles softly, plastic on plastic, as I approach Christian’s door. Slowly, silently, I turn the handle and slide the door open.

He and Émile are tucked up in bed. The covers are thrown off and bunched around Christian’s legs, and Émile’s arm is slung over his chest.

I ache for that kind of love. For being so close to the other person that I need to find them, even in my sleep.

The important thing is that they’re both alive, so that’s two down, five or six to go.

I close the door, snap open the container, and pull out two stick-on googly eyes. A shadow of a smile tugs at my lips as I stick them to the round door handle, and then I turn it all the way until the tension stops me and release it.

The knob flings back into place, and the eyes go all loopy until one black dot sticks to the top and the other is out to the side.

My new friend looks like a derangedAlice in Wonderlandcharacter.

I chuckle and flick between the eyes so the black dots settle back into place.

“I a-dore you,” I whisper to my new friend before giving him a soft pat and moving on.

Madden is sleeping, splayed out and buck naked, muscular chest rising and falling softly. I linger, taking in his body, his cock, wonderingwhyit does nothing for me. I like to pretend that it does, but I think more than one thing broke inside me when I was younger, and I never learned how to fix it.

It’s a struggle to not linger on those thoughts as I pull the door closed and make another little friend.

Hunter and Rush are in the next room, sleeping soundly, and I leave a friend there too.

Then, the final door makes me pause.

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