CYRUS JAMES
Sigma Chi Delta House, Greek Gods and Goddesses party.
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Thanks to Max's family being some of the biggest names in music production, the stereos fitted throughout the house assured that no one would leave with their hearing after a Sigma party. The latest rap song blared through the house, covering up any drunken voices that wouldn't be too pleasant. Cyrus wanted to lose himself in the loudness, to forget about concerned big brothers and lookalike flings and enjoy himself without needing anyone to suppliment his enjoyment.
Back here, in Cyrus' bedroom that had kept many of his secrets, it was silent. Not because the music was any less loud, but because Maddox Izumi was standing in his bedroom holding a polaroid of himself that Cyrus had taken.
He remembered that night vividly; Cyrus teasing and distracting the older boy from his studies until he made his way into Maddox's lap, a place he'd become mighty comfortable with, and gave him the study break he needed. That night must have been the night he left his sweatshirt too, and Cyrus had messaged him teasingly that it was now Cyrus' sweatshirt. It was one of the nights he fooled himself that he wasn't in love with Maddox, that he could be friends with a fling and everything would be fine. It was much different than the first night, and much different than tonight.
Cyrus would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much to see Maddox in his room. It was too ironic; had Maddox been seated on his bed lost in thought, it would have been an exact replica of the night they first hooked up.
"You know it's difficult for me to forget I even knew you if you make yourself at home in my bedroom." Cyrus finally pipes up from leaning against the doorway, his voice lacking any sort of tease that a statement like his usually would have.
Those were his favorite jeans Maddox owned, ones he had torn off the Beta plenty of times. Maddox looked good, those perfectly styled locks and tight dress shirt that reminded Cyrus how easily he'd become attracted to Maddox. But he doesn't ignore the drunkenness, a foreign concept for Maddox. Sure, Cyrus had seen him buzzed once or twice - usually in the privacy of Cyrus' old apartment, which he didn't enjoy remembering - but never like this. Sharp brown eyes muddled by the liquid Maddox must've had a lot of to look like that, and a soft blush on his cheeks that had to be from alcohol because Maddox never blushed.
Cyrus closes the door and locks it, eager to keep out any drunkards looking to hookup, and Isaac. The little pledge was shoved to the back of his mind as he looked at the reason he started hooking up with him in the first place.
Cyrus wanted to throw away the picture, burn the sweatshirt Maddox had left over, delete all the text messages, but then it would be real and it hurt less to live in a dreamland that Maddox would be coming over later and comfort Cyrus from the nightmare he was living in. He had punches of reality with the phone call, and seeing the pretty girl pick up coffee and Maddox look absolutely fine, but the smoke he'd inhaled and the drinks he'd chugged like water in a desert transported him back to those comforting bedsheets with Maddox lying beside him. If he'd taken hallucinogens, he might have wandered up here alone and laid in bed with a Maddox only his mind could see, giggling and crying and losing himself in a drug-induced haze.
But there was a sharp clarity as he continued to stare at Maddox, take in every feature like it would be the last. He yearned to reach forward and tug the other boy into his arms, pretend for a moment that Maddox had never left him. Every line from the phone call replayed in his head like a soundtrack he was too far away to stop.
"This was fun but..."
"I don't need you either."
"Stop calling and forget you ever knew me."
In a twisted way, he was happy that Maddox wasn't fine, that he was here in Cyrus' bedroom holding onto that polaroid. "You're fucking stupid if you think I could ever forget you... Maddy," Cyrus' voice is soft and without malice, even cracking slightly as he used the nickname he loved so much for the boy he loved - loves - so much. His baby blues did not meet the dark browns and moved across the room, on the sweatshirt that he'd cried himself to sleep in only days before, suffocated by the scent of Maddox's cologne.
Back here, in Cyrus' bedroom that had kept many of his secrets, it was silent. Not because the music was any less loud, but because Maddox Izumi was standing in his bedroom holding a polaroid of himself that Cyrus had taken.
He remembered that night vividly; Cyrus teasing and distracting the older boy from his studies until he made his way into Maddox's lap, a place he'd become mighty comfortable with, and gave him the study break he needed. That night must have been the night he left his sweatshirt too, and Cyrus had messaged him teasingly that it was now Cyrus' sweatshirt. It was one of the nights he fooled himself that he wasn't in love with Maddox, that he could be friends with a fling and everything would be fine. It was much different than the first night, and much different than tonight.
Cyrus would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much to see Maddox in his room. It was too ironic; had Maddox been seated on his bed lost in thought, it would have been an exact replica of the night they first hooked up.
"You know it's difficult for me to forget I even knew you if you make yourself at home in my bedroom." Cyrus finally pipes up from leaning against the doorway, his voice lacking any sort of tease that a statement like his usually would have.
Those were his favorite jeans Maddox owned, ones he had torn off the Beta plenty of times. Maddox looked good, those perfectly styled locks and tight dress shirt that reminded Cyrus how easily he'd become attracted to Maddox. But he doesn't ignore the drunkenness, a foreign concept for Maddox. Sure, Cyrus had seen him buzzed once or twice - usually in the privacy of Cyrus' old apartment, which he didn't enjoy remembering - but never like this. Sharp brown eyes muddled by the liquid Maddox must've had a lot of to look like that, and a soft blush on his cheeks that had to be from alcohol because Maddox never blushed.
Cyrus closes the door and locks it, eager to keep out any drunkards looking to hookup, and Isaac. The little pledge was shoved to the back of his mind as he looked at the reason he started hooking up with him in the first place.
Cyrus wanted to throw away the picture, burn the sweatshirt Maddox had left over, delete all the text messages, but then it would be real and it hurt less to live in a dreamland that Maddox would be coming over later and comfort Cyrus from the nightmare he was living in. He had punches of reality with the phone call, and seeing the pretty girl pick up coffee and Maddox look absolutely fine, but the smoke he'd inhaled and the drinks he'd chugged like water in a desert transported him back to those comforting bedsheets with Maddox lying beside him. If he'd taken hallucinogens, he might have wandered up here alone and laid in bed with a Maddox only his mind could see, giggling and crying and losing himself in a drug-induced haze.
But there was a sharp clarity as he continued to stare at Maddox, take in every feature like it would be the last. He yearned to reach forward and tug the other boy into his arms, pretend for a moment that Maddox had never left him. Every line from the phone call replayed in his head like a soundtrack he was too far away to stop.
"This was fun but..."
"I don't need you either."
"Stop calling and forget you ever knew me."
In a twisted way, he was happy that Maddox wasn't fine, that he was here in Cyrus' bedroom holding onto that polaroid. "You're fucking stupid if you think I could ever forget you... Maddy," Cyrus' voice is soft and without malice, even cracking slightly as he used the nickname he loved so much for the boy he loved - loves - so much. His baby blues did not meet the dark browns and moved across the room, on the sweatshirt that he'd cried himself to sleep in only days before, suffocated by the scent of Maddox's cologne.