He was leaning against the window pane as I walked into the room. Whether or not he was aware of my arrival I did not know; he made no move to turn around or speak to me, simply kept staring out of the window. I assumed he had slipped out to escape the effervescence of the hall, where the others were still drinking and dancing. But as I looked on at him I knew I was wrong. Something was wrong, and I couldn’t help but feel I was in some way responsible. I had been given no reason to feel this way yet even then I knew. For in the nights between us there was nothing but pure bliss, but it was always short lived as I would return straight to my room, to watch over the girl who never looked at me as anything more than a friend. I assumed he didn’t care, that after the act was over he wouldn’t even want me in his bed. I assumed there was nothing between us. But as the months went by I sensed darkness within him. It had been there before of course, as all of us who have ever enjoyed the poison sting of the needle, but now it was growing more each day and a sorrow seemed to overtake his soul. He had begun using more and more and even I was growing concerned, but I never said a word. I had thought about talking to him, and that was the reason I had followed him to his room. But I was unprepared when suddenly he turned to me and I saw the tears cling to his cheeks like dewdrops upon rose petals, and found myself stunned by all the emotion summed up in those staring eyes; a mix of misery and... Something else, something I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed before. I tried to speak to him, but could think of nothing I could say in such a situation. But he always seemed to know what to say.
“I love you.” And then his soft lips were against my own.
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