SURPRISE; ALSO NON-PAULIAN SEX SCENE WARNING.

[Wren; Brakelights by Omar Apollo]

ONE: when you get laid.

They say regret is the most devastating form of self-punishment. Funny how I actively chose not to punish myself physically, only for my self-conscious to consistently put in the work.

It'd been about five months since Paul and I officially broke up and it would still weigh heavy on me even despite how cordial the breakup was. Every single brush of a hand against mine or a laugh in the distance that sounded so much like his, my throat would close up and tears would rush to my eyes a second later when I remembered that it couldn't be him. With that realization came loneliness and the loneliness would be companioned by guilt so being alone for too long would often lead to a breakdown. The scene would shift around in my head consistently and everything Paul and I ever said, everything I didn't get the chance to say, would hit me in the gut.

The first mistake that would surface behind my skull would be the lack of expression I'd given towards the end of our relationship. I hadn't told Paul I loved him in weeks leading up to the breakup, not of my own accord at least. The times I'd say it was in reciprocation: he would say it on FaceTime with a smile and a few times I hadn't heard him but when I did, my chest ran warm and my skin developed goosebumps. The problem was that I would too often forget how amazing those words made him feel, how secure just that could make us and I didn't put in the effort.

I didn't put in a lot of effort, maybe that was why he decided that we weren't good, we weren't pure anymore. We weren't healthy anymore nor normal and most of that was my fault. I could've done more; I should've done more especially towards the end.

"Chill out, honey, I'm not gonna disappear," the small boy underneath me had laughed, hands slowing mine down as they were about to tug his shirt off and throw it elsewhere. I didn't like talking during sex anymore, I didn't like the emotional connection nor was I up for exploring each other's bodies. I wasn't really up for exploring anyone since him.

This would be where more regret would take residence inside of me, I'd feel bad for essentially using sex as a coping mechanism, at least that's what a self-diagnosis off WebMD said. I hadn't been to therapy in well over three months but luckily -due to my constant lies about my health- I'd been able to refill my pills whenever needed. I wasn't in the danger zone anymore according to Dr. Lueeth.

My lips were kissing along the collarbones of the boy underneath me, hoping he'd like that and maybe I'd be able to pretend that everything was okay. My mind always strayed to Paul and even subconsciously, I'd try to find similarities so I felt a bit better about thinking of him. This guy looked like him. He slowed me down like him.

But he didn't talk like Paul, didn't have any accent. His lips were too pink, eyes too green and skin too pale. He was too skinny as well, a twink as many would say and he wore outfits that, unlike Paul's, were a bit on the feminine side. He was cute but...

Overall, I wasn't attracted to him, redeeming qualities being the fact that he had curls similar to those I liked -although they were more copper than black and didn't feel exactly the same; his curls were way too loose, they were great for gripping though. He had a nice little arch in his back that was obscene, and he had a cute little ass that I wouldn't mind fucking, I'd done it enough already.

That day, I'd settled for a blowjob in the back of his 1996 Camaro and here we were: in my dorm and sprawled across the bed, me trying to rush so I didn't regret it halfway. Sex with anyone else but Paul wasn't as intimate, wasn't nearly as enjoyable and maybe I'd given up at some point trying to chase the feeling he'd give me by just touching me. There was too little there and to stop myself from wallowing in it, I told myself to settle. I wasn't ever gonna feel that again, at least not until I'd graduated and by then, Paul would most definitely have found someone else.

There's always someone else, Julian. Th-there's always someone else or something else that takes precedence over our relationship and I'm tired of it.

"So, you're an English major, right?" When Paul had left me -in a breakup that was mutual but felt anything but- my pen became my best friend, my depression the pitiful protagonist in the story that was my life. I'd started writing poems, writing letters, writing anything that would come to mind yet I never shared my deepest thoughts with anyone... well, anyone but Jade. Of course, I fell in love with writing fiction and ended up majoring in literature since I couldn't base my entire college career off of soccer.

Or, I could, but my anxiety would flare up in moments where I didn't feel as if I was good enough to go pro and since moving to California, I didn't really have anyone I could depend on to fuel my dreams. I had to motivate myself; I had to handle my feelings of being inadequate and disappointing my entire family and I had to do something to stop myself from feeling like that. Writing helped me and yeah, I had friends, since being there Danny and I had gotten pretty close and my teammates were fun to hang around as were a few people in my classes even if we didn't talk much about anything that wasn't required.

Partying was a way to pass through weekends without being too dependent on a call from Paul and maybe that was what convinced me that I didn't need him as much as I did before.

My lack of real communication had become a problem as well, another reason for our breakup, I wasn't talking to him. He'd assumed that because I wasn't talking to him, I had to be talking to someone else; I had to be confiding in someone else but really, I'd been brushing off my actual problems with temporary solutions. Allowing Paul to open up those wounds when he was much too far to heal them, I didn't want that so I called him less when I felt more fragile than usual.

And those ruts turned into long periods of time without talking to my boyfriend which led to our first breakup, it was a week but it was the worst week of my life. I'd made a lot of mistakes stupid, drunken mistakes that he couldn't get past and I didn't blame him.

But it'd been five months and still, I didn't really have anyone to confide in, every break with Paul... every fight was always resolved quickly, that is until it wasn't. I messed up, I fucked up and he didn't forgive me.

I didn't want to talk about that though, I didn't want to talk about anything with Wren. I just wanted him to stop talking so I could fuck him without guilt,and send him back to his dorm after I'd tired myself out enough to go to sleep.

I didn't sleep much during the night which was actually awful in college, I'd thought the mental alarm I set would help a bit but when my depression had only gotten worse and I didn't have the willpower to get up early, it was a nightmare. I'd dodged 8ams my entire freshman year but the only literature class that I could get into the second year, and didn't conflict with soccer, was an 8 am.

"Shut up," I muttered, it coming out harsher than intended and I ground my lower half into Wren's, groaning at the friction between us and sitting up to quickly tug my pants down. I didn't take time running my fingers over his smaller waist and faintly curved hips, the bones peeking out, my hands instinctively went to the button on his jeans right under the gem on his navel. He had a nose piercing and a belly button piercing that were both in the shape of stars and he was hard in his lacy underwear.

Paul had nipple piercings and wore boxers and sometimes boxer-briefs, his hips were wider, he was built and that was so hot to me. He was closer to my size than Wren and he actually worked out. I liked a man that could keep up with me, one that wanted to stay fit with me, Wren was skinny and he was so small and it was cute just... it was missing something, it didn't feel the same and it was kind of creepy considering he did look so young, even if he was nineteen years old.

The boy beneath me grinned euphorically as I tugged his pants and underwear down in one go, hoping I didn't have to engage in meaningless foreplay and being pleasantly surprised at the fact that he was still excited despite the lack of communication of any fucking kind.

This was a new normal for me since I'd started fucking my feelings away. Before college, I'd thought of sex as something intimate, something shared between you and the person you loved and never did I think that I'd be having sex with anyone except him... that was until I'd slept with Wren one night after a party that I definitely didn't want to be at, I'd had a broken heart that night and he was half-dressed.

That turned into sleeping with a third of the soccer team in UCSB considering a good amount were closet cases and/or experimental junkies.

Occasionally, when I got really drunk, I slept with a girl -that didn't happen too often because it was just too... different. Different had been something so terrible for me so far, every change had been difficult and heart-wrenching. Just being with someone would often take me back to him and being with a girl, every time I noticed that the genitalia wasn't the same, I'd notice that they weren't the same, there was no connection. I would end up feeling so guilty and -despite the fact that Paul was the one who'd left me- I'd have to suppress an anxiety attack.

My first time having sex with a girl ended with her calling me a freak when I'd started drunk panicking because her hands felt too small and her hair was way too long and her chest wasn't flat and she wasn't male and then I realized she wasn't Paul. Every encounter I had with a woman after that made me miss him even more hence why I never touched them sober, there was no pretending it was him.

"Damn, daddy, little bossy are we?" Wren had moaned out when I had a hand on him, my eyes burning holes into his head, it thrown back and his neck straining. I couldn't stop wondering if this was okay, was it too weird to be somewhere completely different? My mind was nowhere near him and it kept running, spinning around with different images of Paul burning behind my eyes whenever I blinked.

Our first date, his bright smile, the day we went to Vidcon, when he came out to the internet, when he told his followers about us.

Everything about Paul was so good, he was good, he was good to me and I'd fucked up. I fucked up, I fucked up.

Suddenly, I wished Wren's skin was more plush so I couldn't feel the bones there when I touched him, that his arms had more muscle than bone. He wasn't an unhealthy type of skinny but it was bordering, he must've been underweight and maybe I should've bought him more than just the water he'd asked for before taking him to my dorm. Paul would've, Paul would've been friends with Wren.

Don't care, don't fucking care, he's not your responsibility. Biting softly at the skin underneath his ear, I smiled when he let out a soft gasp, he found me attractive.

My self-esteem had also been a struggle these past few months, at least, more often than not. I avoided mirrors but comparisons were still there, the fact that just looking at other guys would also spark an insecurity that I'd convinced myself was gone, college had been shit on my mental health. But Wren, he made me feel attractive.

And I knew it was wrong, using him, especially when I didn't know anything about him and that was my fault. He'd consistently tried to let me in, he wanted a friendship but opening myself up to even the possibility of befriending someone I had sex with was so scary. I didn't want anything more than this even if I needed it because needing my it led to disappointment and when it was gone, it would push me more into my self-hate, I wasn't sure if I could resurface again. What we had going was good to subside my lonely because I hated to be alone.

I hated being alone because I hated how I felt about who I was; I truly hated myself and that became clear in moments when I could sit in my bed and really think about how many things I'd fucked up. Other people being around made me more aware of my own presence, at least then the thoughts would stay locked in and I often tried to immerse myself in studying everything else but myself.

Maybe that's why my eyes had lingered so long on the faint mark on Wren's throat, ink stretched beside it and I'd seen him stumbling out of a room three nights prior.

There was a tattoo running along the side of his neck of a little lilac butterfly, rosy lips parted as soft moans fell out. And he was hot when you got him like this, he was really hot and that was the only reason I wasn't soft at the words that spewed out of his mouth.

He'd called me daddy before, sometime between having him bent over the communion bathroom sink and the multiple times he'd ridden me reverse in his car. Wren was very vocal especially in bed and I didn't really like it. It was weird having someone be that kinky with me, having someone be so confident in their own sexual appeal that they dipped into kinks even without the knowledge that their partner was interested. I was envious of how free he was, Wren answered to no one and didn't give a damn about how that made him look.

Rolling my eyes, I brushed by thumb over his slit, his body arching into my touch and voice coming out in pants and constant curses. "I told you, that's fucking weird, I don't have a daddy kink, Wren, we talked about this."

His lips, a little too pink, had parted as he went to say something but instead, he'd pushed me back onto my bed. Straddling me, he grinded his naked crotch into mine, throwing his head in the crook of my neck and biting softly at the skin there. I didn't like to be marked, didn't like to be reminded of the fact that I'd had meaningless sex, he knew that so his nips turned into kisses and his arms curled around my neck holding me closer than I would've liked. He was kissing my lips and I didn't feel anything, it felt so unnatural no matter how long it'd been. Kissing anyone that I had absolutely no feelings for led to something way more empty than any hole in my chest.

It was as if he was waiting for me to hold him, my hands gripping his hips at the most and letting him do what he was best at. He'd whined a bit but didn't protest and instead moved to focus more on the physical, just the pleasure and none of the pain.

I slid my hand to his ass allowing him to lean back a bit before cupping me through my underwear, his sea-green eyes studying my face and his bottom lip pulled into his mouth. He'd jumped in my arms when I'd slapped at his ass, giggling before grabbing for the lube and condom he'd had in the pocket of his discarded shorts, "And I told you I don't give it up on the first date now look where we are."

I was too focused on the fact that calling McDonalds and sex a date was quite stupid, that I didn't care much about how his statement contradicted his actions. Wren was always prepared for sex whether it was planned or after classes he'd pull me into a random bathroom, give me a blowjob and pull a baby pink plug out of his ass; he gave it up anytime I'd asked.

"Wasn't a date." But I was preoccupied with his lips that were kissing along my thighs as he slid down my body and I had to restrain myself from thinking of Paul again. How everytime he sucked me off, he'd place a little love bite right on the inside of my thigh before smiling up at me with that perfect smile. How he'd once joked about me getting his name tattooed there, drawing a heart in the spot with the pad of his finger, and I'd actually thought about it despite it being so random.

I thought of how right after, he'd go back to work, taking my balls into his mouth as if it were second nature, my hands would grasp his curly locks in my hand and I'd find myself falling in love with his pretty brown eyes, over and over again. With him, it always felt like the first time.

"You say that yet you paid." Wren had teased with both his words and his mouth kissing at the tip of my dick, my eyes focusing back on him and I could feel my heart deflate, a part of me really expected to see Paul in between my legs, telling me how much he loved me or how beautiful I was while doing that cute little instinctive pout, his dimples indenting.

Instead, I was met with Wren's lips already swollen and a dark pink as he looked up through his thick lashes. Wrapping a hand around my shaft, he licked lightly at my tip provoking a hand in his hair... his hair was thinner than Paul's, the curls didn't curve around my fingers just right but Wren moaned despite the frown on my face.

And I remembered that he enjoyed me being harsh with him so biting at my lip, I furrowed my brows down at the small boy. "I was just being nice so I could fuck you." Maybe it'd been too harsh but he didn't seem as bothered, not when he curled his fingers around the hand in his hair and pushed his own head down to the base, tears springing to his eyes.

My regret was pushed away when he'd pushed off with a gasp, eyes wide and mouth in an out-of-breath grin, he'd wiggled his brows at me.

"Mission accomplished, huh?" Taking me back into his mouth, he bobbed his head, swirling his tongue and toying with my balls. Even if I wasn't into Wren, I had to admit that sucking dick was something he was fucking great at. He was a pro and I knew he had tons of experience, everyone had slept with him.

And I felt the need to let him know that whatever we were doing wasn't anything more than what it was. "We're not dating." Maybe my statement had sucked the fun out of what he was doing because he was ripping open the condom then, maybe he figured I couldn't talk much when I was preoccupied.

"Just shut the fuck up and pound my ass, pretty boy." He'd groaned out, slumping his shoulders and rolling his eyes as if I were the most annoying person on the planet. Slipping the condom on my dick quickly and with little wait, he'd sunk down onto me, his face screwing up in discomfort but I knew he liked it.

Wren liked the pain almost as much as the pleasure.

So I had no hesitation in digging my fingers into his hips and pushing his body all the way down, eyes on his and I'd let out all the frustration I'd felt for myself, "Whatever you want, Princess." And it was meant to be an insult, meant to be spiteful but I felt Wren smile against my skin, resting his lips on my shoulder.

The marks on my skin didn't fade for a week.

: : :

"Shit, even better than last time." His voice was fucked out as we'd laid back on my bed, I didn't find a need in cleaning him up, he could do that shit himself. I wanted to throw my sheets in the trash, sleep and forget about how much emptier random sex made me feel.

Yeah, the act was good, Wren felt good and he knew how to make someone else feel good. He was great in bed, that's why I kept him around but the idea that he wasn't Paul physically made my chest ache. Would Paul even be hurt if he knew? Would he even care? Probably not considering this is what he wanted, he wanted me to move on, he wanted more space because 2,000 miles was somehow too much and still not enough.

I was never enough for him.

My breathing was starting to feel a bit labored as I thought of how I'd feel seeing Paul in bed with someone else, even hearing that he was sleeping with someone else. He was a relationship kind of guy too, he probably forgot all about me and the way my heart sped up at the realization that I was holding onto something I'd lost so long ago... that was what told me Wren didn't need to be here. I was still wearing Paul's ring and this guy was laying naked beside me.

"Leave." My voice was weak and shaky, as was my resolution, I wanted someone there because loneliness was starting to set in and my sedation was starting to fade. I knew I'd be a mess soon but I held it back, hoping he wouldn't notice the wavering of my words.

"But maybe we could hang out?" He'd offered, he'd been doing that a lot recently, trying to build a friendship on a simple animalistic urge, I fucked him to get my frustrations out and it was starting to get to him. "Go for round two-"

"Get out, Wren." My voice was more solid then, knowing I'd have to get it together and get him the fuck out before tears started pouring down my face and my fucking body started trembling. I needed to get it out of my system, let it exhaust me so I could fall asleep at least for a little while... it was around 7 then and maybe two hours was good enough before getting dinner with Danny. Maybe I'd be able to rest for another few hours before having to wake up for morning practice and I didn't have a class that day so I could use time on some drills and hopefully it'd tire me out enough for a few more hours.

The sleeping pills I'd been on were too much for my other medication to coexist with and I had to decide between peace of mind or peaceful sleep.

I'd never sleep again if it meant I wouldn't have to feel this anymore but maybe that wasn't the best option.

Wren must've noticed my anxiousness or, at least, my exhaustion because he was pulling himself out of my bed, sliding his jeans on wobbly legs and slipping his underwear in his pocket before pulling a big t-shirt over his body. The shirt swallowed him up and I assumed it was from another guy he was fucking, God, I was pathetic.

With a soft smile, he'd slipped on his fluffy slides, grabbing his phone and keys before waving the aforementioned object slightly. "I know you're doing the whole loner thing, James Dean, but if you need to talk, feel free to call me." He'd offered a shrug, biting at his lip and going to leave with a slight limp in his step. In bed, it was easy to convince myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong but when we were done and he even so much as laughed, I'd feel pretty bad.

He was a person and a good one at that and I wasn't even fully there.

And that was the thing about having mindless sex, guilt would soon set in after the chest pains. It would start as my breath hitching and then my hands would shake just slightly.

I would think about how much Paul would probably hate who I'd become, how disgusted he would be with me. I would be brought back to the day he ended things, my adrenaline would pump up until I was sobbing into my pillow, shaking as my throat felt like it was closing up. And then I'd pass out.

: : :

"Wren, again?" That was the first thing Danny had asked when he'd entered our dorm later and his eyes had caught onto me laying sluggishly in my bed. It smelled like sex and coconut perfume, how Wren always smelled and I was pretty much naked. No one I slept with would really come to my dorm as it was all the way in the athletic sector, no one but the curly haired boy.

I hadn't answered, just rolled over and sat up, stretching my back out as I tried to rid the weight on my chest. I didn't feel like getting up, laying down was so much more inviting but without the aid of my medication, I had to be my own motivation.

Danny wasn't much for embarrassment, he knew he was hot and I envied that as well especially when he'd pulled his shirt off in the middle of the room and his chain glimmered on the back of his neck. I was staring at his back now, watching it flex and I suddenly felt too exposed.

Looking away, I'd grabbed at a shirt that was thrown carelessly onto the floor and I yanked it on in a haste before my roommate turned around.

"When're you gonna stop fucking with him? You know he gets around." With a laugh, Danny dropped his pants, securing a towel around his waist before dropping his boxers as well and grabbing his shower caddy. "Shit, he should just start charging ya ass." There was a laugh in his voice but I didn't find it funny.

But it was college and I didn't have many friends. Even if some things Danny said weren't politically correct, I didn't have the heart to fight it. I wasn't in the mood to defend Wren, especially since he had a plan to go out and he probably expected me to come with him.

But what he said had struck a cord in me, I was already rude enough, he didn't need to be a dick to Wren even if he wasn't there. "Having a lot of sex doesn't mean..." but I lacked the will to finish because finishing that sentence would lead to thinking about Paul and thinking about Paul always made my heart hurt. I was too exhausted, too emotionally drained and too . "We're both on PreP, we use condoms, I'm not stupid."

"Dude..."

When he'd trailed off, I looked up only to catch him already looking at me and I knew what he was going to say before he said it. "Leave it alone, Danny."

And he laughed, he straight up laughed in my face. "Are you seriously still messing with him because of that ex of yours?" He'd been bringing it up every once in a while, when I didn't sleep with anyone at a party we went to or when I sat out of events or when my head wasn't in the game. It was starting to get to me and honestly, Danny probably meant well but all I could do is hate myself more especially when he'd bring it up right after I slept with Wren. "Get over it."

Not all of those things were about Paul, in fact, none of them really were. I was a ball of self-hate, I didn't have any energy to go out and I didn't like being naked around people especially around people that were in shape because I didn't live up to their expectations. Daniel Veda's body was godsend and his face was perfect as well, he was perfect and I was average and on most days, it got to me. But he didn't get that shit and he probably wouldn't understand if I tried to explain.

So I settled for sinking back into the pain I understood, that was somehow easier. "I can't." And I couldn't just get over him, Paul was the best thing that had ever happened to me, he loved me when I wasn't worth it and he left me when he realized it.

With that realization came loathing, I always knew I wasn't enough for him, I did, I just didn't know when it would end. It was over, it had been over and I had a feeling this pain would never subside. I would never be able to not think of him and I'd been living with that regret so long, I didn't remember what it felt like to be content.

How did I tell Danny that? How could I? Danny wasn't my fucking therapist and he wasn't getting paid to be burdened with all of my shit.

Even if I didn't want him to, he tried to solve my problems. "Well, call him then."

That's not gonna help, he's not gonna wanna talk to me, he's happy now.

He was happy without me, way happier and no matter how much I wanted to hear his voice, the idea that he didn't want to talk to me... the idea that calling him could solidify everything that I already knew to be true, it terrified me. I couldn't wait for the day when thinking about him would only cause a dull throb instead of the intense burning I felt, when Paul wasn't an open wound.

"He loved you, right?"

That was the only that I was completely sure of. Paul had loved me, he loved me so well and he always made sure I knew it. "We loved each other," I'd countered, maybe I was trying to convince myself that I had been good enough to love him, that I deserved to love him and God, I didn't.

"How long has he been dating this guy?"

This guy, that old coffee shop worker, Isaiah, that had given Paul his number. They'd somehow reconnected and seeing them together was killing me, Isaiah was the one he was supposed to be with, I was preparation.

"Like two months." That was when he first started showing up on Paul's Instagram. I could recall the day like the back of my hand, his millions of followers commenting about how 'otp' they were, whatever the fuck that meant. I remembered the way my heart sank when people in his comments were asking where I was... I'd convinced myself they were just friends only to see the same boy placing a kiss on Paul's full lips in Rilee's snapchat story at New Years. I wanted to cry, I did and my heart hadn't stopped aching since.

"I guarantee he doesn't love him."

Shaking my head, I tried to end the conversation. Paul wasn't going to be distracted from living his fucking life because I couldn't get a grip on mine and realize that we were over. Our relationship was over, he knew that and I needed to know it too. "I'm not just gonna text him."

But Danny was persistent. That was something that reminded me of Ben, I hadn't talked to Ben in months, my whole old life seemed to be slipping and I didn't feel a desire to hold on. Maybe it was better that that part of me was done, I hadn't talked to Andy since the summer and Calum since that night at his house. Here, I was Julian the soccer kid who rooms with party-animal Danny and I was okay with that. "You never really told me what happened between you two." Danny wasn't.

"I lied to him." That was the most I could say, also the least I could say, not much else could be said before I'd let it take over me and the sadness overwhelm me. I didn't wanna remember the breakup, I didn't want to think about how hurt he looked, how sad he'd been.

How he was still cordial with me despite his nose being stuffy and face flushed.

"When was the last time you talked to him?"

We'd only broken up in September, it was difficult to imagine him wanting to talk to me now if ever, especially since it'd been too awkward the last time I'd seen him.

"December." We'd crossed paths when I'd visited for the holidays. My father had been going to the same church as Paul's parents and when they invited us out to brunch with them, Paul had been there. I wasn't sure if it was some weird scheme to get us back together but we'd ended up sitting right next to each other in some moderately priced restaurant. Paul had excused himself after only ten minutes with an awkward smile and a cherry red nose, I had to swallow down the lump in my throat, apologies lingering on the tip of my tongue.

I'd cried enough that day to realize that it was way too painful to even look at him again.

Danny didn't need to know that, that's why his, "call him," had made my heart quicken in pace. "Tell him how much you miss him and ask if you can talk about it."

"That's not gonna work, Danny, you know it."

I wasn't sure where so many people came from with this optimistic belief in love and their own perfect ending but where Paul and I were now, there was no way a phone call would repair the damage. "You gotta try." And get my heart broken, that's all trying would do.

"But-"

But he wasn't going for it, maybe the lack of aggression from him before had somewhat resulted in my cowering. All I knew was, his brown eyes were on mine and his voice was stern; he'd cut me off instantly and I could tell that this had been manifesting. "No buts, I'm tired of smelling coconut, JD, shit's giving me a fuckin' headache."

With a glare, Danny headed towards the door but not without his less-than encouraging words. "Either call him or man the fuck up and move on."

They say regret is forever.

A/N:

Okay, now it's coming in 2019.

Updated: Saturday, December 1st.

What are you looking forward to with Alone? What Open characters are you looking forward to seeing again? What do you think happened between Jules and Paul?