It started off as something that made him feel happy. He’d smile brighter, footsteps lighter – he’d have an altogether better day because of it. Maybe it was complicated in his head and there were things he knew he couldn’t do about it, but nevertheless it made him happy, because he was exposed to it every single day and he found himself living in some fantasy world were everything was perfectly okay.

But soon the fantasy world began to crumble around him, turning to dust and leaving him stood in the rubble. He realised he didn’t feel happier because it made him happy to think and feel what he did, it made him happy because he’d fooled himself into a belief that he soon realised was dangerous and stupid. And soon enough it began eating away at him from the inside out. It was a slow process, one little bit beginning to decay, then slowly the rest followed.

Maybe now it was the realisation that he couldn’t do anything to stop it, he’d let it get too far and surround him, engulf him in its clutches so cold and painful – he knew he’d embraced it all foolishly, opening himself completely to it, and now he couldn’t rid himself of it and he was suffering. The thing that had brought him such happiness daily now ate away at his inside like a parasite. Oh how he wished he could simply deny ever feeling anything at all, that he’d be able to get rid of every dark piece of the growing, writhing horror inside him.

At first he was able to hide it behind closed doors, the few tears shed would drop only when he’d locked himself in a bathroom or abandoned room with a lock, only when he knew no one would see would he let himself cry. He’d cry because he knew what he felt was breaking him now, not making him smile, but making him cry. He’d been so happy to just be exposed to everything and let it all seep in through his pores and unguarded heart that now he was simply filled to the brim with something that had gone sour and begun to poison him.

If he could go back in time and never open himself to it, he would.

No one noticed at first, not even him. He usually noticed everything about him, a change in his diet, a problem sleeping, if he spoke just a little less during a radio show or variety show – but it was as if a wall had been put up between it and him and he couldn’t see anything to do with it. He’d caused all this poison to spread without even knowing and now he was rotting because of it. They were supposed to be best friends, notice everything about each other, and he still did, it was just he who didn’t. He missed that one thing that he wished he’d see. If only he’d notice it, he’d see the difference and ask about it, maybe he knew how to fix it.

He didn’t want to feel like this, as if everything inside had started rotting, going sour and being drowned in a mist of black. The feelings he’d loved to begin with had drawn in more and more dreaded darkness to add to it and soon everything was lingering, pressing hard behind his tear ducts at every point of every day.

Soon enough however it became too hard not to notice the change in him. The way he used to smile easily and now it never reached his eyes. Every smile was forced, and he was unable to pay attention, forever staring off, mind occupied by other things as those around him stuck to their lines and answered questions. As much as he believed he hadn’t noticed, he had. Of course he had – he noticed everything about him after all. But it was something he couldn’t fix like he usually was able to with just a few words and a hug.

This ran deeper than a simple argument.

Taking it into his own hands he used the time where he had no schedules to immerse himself in things that weren’t him. For years it had made him happy, then slowly, over the next few years it had started to hurt more, and now it was almost unbearable. He couldn’t smile anymore, and tears were something he got used to shedding every night. But he hated it. He’d started to hate the reason for those tears – he couldn’t look at that reason without wanting to cry because they’d talked and those dark feelings that had turned sour, even when beautiful, bright and colourful, were never returned.

They were friends.

He’d known deep down right from the start that it was only him who felt this way, and the reason he’d ignored it was because he was hoping he’d not have to deal with it. So it was left as that festering darkness which only grew and grew until every interaction was painful, every smile, was painful, every time he heard his name was painful.

With their comeback came more concerts, more variety and radio shows, more interactions and it was killing him, drawing him closer and closer to that brink of insanity because he just couldn’t do it anymore. It hurt every single time he looked at him – they didn’t share a room, they didn’t share hotel rooms, they barely spoke but he knew.

And then came the concert where he broke down.

Speculation had fingers pointing at the company, claiming he was unwell or being worked to death, was injured or tired or had had a fight with someone over something, and there were so many theories he just simply left them. He didn’t touch his phone or laptop after the first day he spent after returning home, and though he knew he had to go back he needed to find a way to fix this, to stop all this pain and get past these feelings which would never be returned. He’d always believed he liked women, until he’d started to feel what he did for him.

The bedroom light seemed to swing above his head as he lay, flat on his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the voices from below. He could hear him, his voice muffled, but distinct. He’d recognise that voice anywhere. The one that played on repeat in his dreams, the one he listened to in songs and kept secret recordings of. It was bad for him and he needed to stop thinking about it all but he found he simply couldn’t, because he knew what it was, he’d known for a long time now and to admit it, even only in his head, was worse than a gunshot wound to the chest.

He was in love with him. 

Probably not my best, but something I felt I needed to vomit out of my system. I'm nowhere near happy with it, but it's something that I had stuck in my head most of today.