Sweet Dreams of Apocalypse (671 views)

Seamus was aware of a ticking noise somewhere around him. Was it on a wall? On the floor? Inside of him? He felt a lurch forward as the world spun, as the judgmental looks from others faded into a blur. They were there, but resembled a blend of color like paint. Their jests all became laughter, cruel laughter, which faded to a backdrop as Clint’s words softened.

”I didn’t lie. I meant everything.” Seamus said. ”You looked sad one day and I just wrote it, I didn’t mean to send it, I... I didn’t mean to have a whole different persona form. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I – I just..”

”I – I just...” Seamus stuttered out. Clint’s voice was no longer malicious but it sounded so to him. Seamus was waiting on every word Clint uttered with a sense of fear looming over him. When was he going to lash out? When was he going to start screaming and insulting him, shoving him back, saying he didn’t care if the words were true, saying that he was insulted another man felt this way about him? Everyone else’s fingers and sneers meant little to Seamus. They were backdrop to the main act, Clint, the one opinion he cared about more than anyone.

When he listened to Clint continue... that he couldn’t take it back... Seamus cringed and felt his knees give out underneath him. He was on his knees, his hands gripping the tile below as though he could somehow get a grip on it if he just tried hard enough. The ends of his nails were white as he continued to grip painfully. ”I know you c—cant...” But it would have made Seamus feel better to hear an apology, hear him try to take his words back, as he joined him on the floor and pulled him into a hug. But Seamus didn’t see that happening. His arms shook as tears dripped down his cheeks. ”D—do you hate me n--now? That's all I w--want to know.”

At his last question, everything went eerily silent and dark, as though a storm cloud had rolled over outside and everyone had left. Everyone except himself and Clint, there, the question coiling around Seamus’ neck like a noose. He bit his lower lip as he prepared himself for an affirmative answer.

Seamus took a few steadying breaths at Clint’s words. He didn’t hate him. He didn’t hate him. The words ricocheted around in his head, the only think stopping his heart from slowing down to a stop. Even if he didn’t return the romantic feelings, Seamus was petrified Clint would think he was disgusting and hate him for what he’d done. He heard something thud in front of him, the feeling magnified, and he felt arms coil around him and he stiffened, blinking away the moisture in his eyes, as he felt Clint’s arm wrap around his shoulders. Without thinking, Seamus wrapped his arms around Clint’s body and buried his face into the other male’s shoulder, able to smell that distinct cologne that he knew Clint used. He wondered, everywhere, what it was but could never find it. But whatever it was, was one of Seamus’ favorite scents. He could pick it out of almost any crowd and it only seemed intensified by the rain that was suddenly pounding around them. When had that started? Seamus had no idea.

”Y—you don’t hate m—me,” He said, his anxieties still causing his hear tot race and suddenly he was we, everything was wet, but he didn’t care. ”I can’t, I d—don’t... I’m not mad at you i—I just thought you h—hated me...”

The thought of Issy made Seamus feel worse as he sat there on the floor in Clint’s arms. Issy did hate him. She had to. She’d think he was a phony, that he was disgusting, that he’d been lying to her and the worst part of it all was that no matter what she said about it she was right. He was a liar. He thought, in freshman year, that he’d loved Issy. And he did love her but he just didn’t want her that way, he just couldn’t find girls attractive and he’d tried. He’d tried so hard because he knew his girlfriend was gorgeous and smart and talented and he was so lucky. But then he saw Clint and he just felt a draw to him – a draw he couldn’t admit to anyone – and now that the cat was out of the bag Issy would be furious he was thinking about another person while dating her.

But he didn’t mean to be sexual with the letters. His letters very rarely talked about how attractive Clint was – even though Seamus definitely believed he was attractive – he wanted to keep it simple. Artistic. Something to give Clint a mood boost whenever he read them. He squeezed the other man tightly, aware of how the shirt he was now wearing wrinkled underneath his fingertips. When Clint admitted he missed them Seamus laughed to himself, the sound wet and strained, as relief overcame his body and sun mixed with the rain, giving Clint’s hair a glistening halo. Seamus turned to look at his friend’s earlobe and hairline, before he looked away and focused on a spot in the distance, not wanting to move from where he was.

”I wrote what I was thinking, what I thought you needed to hear, I... I never liked seeing you so upset. So I just... wrote them.” There was a smile in his voice as he spoke, because Clint missed his letters... he liked getting his letters. ”I... I can still write them but I... I can’t leave them here. I can’t leave them in this mailbox, not when everyone knows a—and I... everyone knows...”

”I’m not as... as... cheesy when I talk,” Seamus said, though despite the tears still threatening to fall from his eyes, he was smiling, almost laughing, as the sense of relief that Clint didn’t hate him began to sink in. If Clint wanted him to, though, he could try to come up with the words, to say what he meant. But he couldn’t help but think that it would come across as too cheesy and the very idea of actually saying any of his thoughts, and especially, to Clint’s face... ”And, uh, I—I know everyone knows but I mean, I wouldn’t want to say anything in front of the others and I... Sometimes I lose track of my thoughts, so I have to re-think what I’m saying, and...”

He pulled away, slightly, enough to look over and into Clint’s eyes. His heart skipped a beat, because he’d never been this close to Clint. Even if Clint would never return the romantic feelings he felt for him, this was nice. This was all he wanted. ”I... I mean, I can try, if you want me to.”

Seamus smiled, nervously, as he looked over at Clint, who now seemed to be studying his face. He wanted to kiss him. He really wanted to kiss him, he thought, as he sat there and stared into Clint’s eyes as his friend took in all of his face. And it wouldn’t be like his kisses to Issy. His kisses to Issy really meant nothing to him except affection, but friendly affection, not that he kissed all of his friends. But he didn’t desire her the way she desired him, or the way everyone thought he did. He didn’t desire her in the way he desired Clint right then, especially not with the way Clint was actually looking at him for once. Not just looking at him in passing, but... but actually looking at him.

Though the sad smile graced his lips and Seamus closed his eyes, slowly, in resignation. He knew that when that smile crawled across Clint’s face he wasn’t the one he was thinking of. He tried not to let it show but his shoulders trembled in Clint’s hold and he squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to be romantic, and genuine, and say something that was worthy of his pen... but all he could think about was her.

”I wish I was born a girl because then I wouldn’t be, I, I wouldn’t be weird,” he blurted out. That wasn’t true. He didn’t feel like he wasn’t a boy, he didn’t want to be a girl, but if he was then maybe Clint would look at him like he looked at Wyatt. If he wasn’t a boy no one would laugh at him this hard – maybe they’d actually pity him. It wouldn’t be weird if he liked Clint, he would have been Issy’s best friend and nothing more from the very beginning, and his father wouldn’t think he was disgusting. ”W—why do you look at her like she’s the most i—important thing in the w—world? I, when, when I’ve always looked at you that way Even when you don’t see it, even when you’re not looking, I always felt like that, I always felt like you deserved more. When you had a bad day I noticed, when you needed words of encouragement I g—gave them so w—why does it have to be her?” His voice cracked and he felt like he was the whiny character no one liked on a TV show. Before he could stop them the tears were back and he buried his face into Clint’s shoulder.

”...you don’t have to tell me. I know you don’t like me that way. I know you’re in love with her.” As much as he didn’t want to discourage Clint from finding happiness, even if it wasn’t with him, he couldn’t be selfless right now. He was angry, he was heartbroken, and he was bitter that Wyatt didn’t realize what she had. ”I know, so you don’t have to think I’m telling you t—those things, in the letters, you don’t have to think they’re... that I want something more because... I know it’s not h—happening.”

The apologies from Clint just made Seamus feel worse about what he’d done and what he was doing. He shouldn’t be being this cruel to him, this harsh with his words. Clint didn’t deserve that hostility. Though Seamus still had his reservations about Wyatt (who he put up with purely because Issy looked up to her), he knew how Clint felt about her. He admired her in a way that Seamus would never be admired. He cared about her in a way Seamus would never be cared about. She was in her own tier in Clint’s heart and no matter how hard Seamus tried to scale the mountain, he would never reach the top.

Clint’s question made Seamus laugh, though it wasn’t a pleasant sound. It was dark, bitter, and almost harsh as he pulled away from the hug and stared absently at nothing, at the material of Clint’s shirt (at some point during Seamus’ nightmares, he must have regained covering).

”You say it like it was a choice. I don’t know. Believe me, I wouldn’t have felt this way if I could have stopped it. I would have just been your friend, and been happy with just being your friend,” He felt choke dup at Clint’s tears, and forced himself to look at his face. Every time Clint talked to him about Wyatt it was torture. It made Seamus want to run away screaming, crawl into a hole, and hate himself for wishing that Wyatt would dump him for once and for all so that he could extend words of comfort to Clint that might win him over. It was... a hopeless want. Clint wasn’t going to get dumped. Wyatt liked him and whether or not she actually appreciated what she had, Seamus had a feeling she eventually would grow to do so. Who could resist falling for Clint eventually? Seamus certainly couldn’t. ”You couldn’t help it, either. You’re just not interested in me that way.” Something inside of him broke when he said that, but he knew it was true. He wasn’t helping himself by trying to deny it.

Seamus squeezed his eyes shut at Clint’s inquiry. Would he be okay? Maybe. But right now, Seamus didn’t think so. Right now Seamus was barely holding it together. ”I don’t know, probably,” he choked out. The confirmation that he wasn’t losing Clint as a friend was too much and he started to sob again. ”it just h—hurts r—really bad r—right now, I’m s—sorry,”