I tend to be extremely confused when it comes to what I want.

 Actually, I'm confused about everything; which boy I want to cuddle with, what colour shirt I should wear, and what method I should use to safely cross the fast-flowing river that is my life.

It's not like I want to die or anything – at least, not right now – but I can't seem to think of anything else that could stop everything from hurting so much.

 My head, my heart, even my bones scream for sleep, despite the fact that it's all I do.

Sometimes I just want to not exist anymore, and I desperately needed a break.

 Which, unfortunately, is how this mess of things started.

*

Boys.

 Such odd, perplexing creatures.

This boy in particular – bright blue eyes deeper than the ocean, shaggy blond hair that I constantly found the urge to live in – sat beside me, silent as ever, his fingers tapping quietly against his pants.

 They had a particular name – chinos, I think – and, according to him, they were the only type of pants he'd ever wear. When I'd met him, I thought he'd been effectively making use of hyperbole, like I was when I'd told him that I drink tea six hundred and seventy-three times a day.

Yet another thing I'm wrong about. I thought, my gaze falling upon him once more.

 We'd been like this for quite a while now; silent, unmoving. I'd managed to convince myself that all relationships fell into ruts like this, but nothing felt right anymore.

Not even his hand clinging to mine.

  It'd probably been my fault, though. Most things were.

Or, maybe it'd been that vicious, gut-wrenching fight we'd had last week. All I'd asked for was a paper plate, and somehow, he saw the thinnest, recyclable, circular slabs of paper as a metaphor for our relationship – "simple, easily torn, and quickly neglected after use".

 I'd said relationships were more like his chinos; the only thing he'll ever constantly want, but there will always be another pair that fits better.

And maybe, I'd been the pair he'd grown out of.

 "We need a break." He whispered, his gaze refusing to leave the mug that rested on the coffee table.

I've been saying that since God knows when. I thought carelessly, letting out a soft sigh. At least we know who calls the shots around here.

 "From each other?" I muttered. "Or from not talking?"

  He let out a grunt, turning to face me. Ah, eye contact. What a beautiful, dangerous thing.

Those deadly blue eyes of his bored into mine with the ferocity of a lion on the hunt, and I could tell that – yet again – I'd said the wrong thing.

  "We aren't working out." he sighed. "All we do is get on each other's nerves."

"You're made entirely out of nerves," I groaned, "considering how even my breathing seems to irritate you."

 "Well, can't you breathe like a normal person?" he snapped, breaking our fragile, locked gazes. Rolling my eyes, I stood up, pacing around his terribly-coloured living room; a disgusting, sickly green had been splattered onto the walls, ruining whatever Zen effect he'd been going for.

I'd begged to get it painted something else – for free, much less – but he'd refused. Clearly, his taste in home décor spilled into his taste of men.

 "Sorry for not fitting into your definition of normalcy as snugly as you do," I barked, "and since we're already discussing it, why don't we just talk about the other things that I should do like a 'normal' person? Like, for example, eat. Inhaling my food like a vacuum seems to be a huge irking point."

"People tend to chew before they swallow."

 "People also tend to murder other people, so what's your point?"

He exhaled deeply, finding something new to stare at. It bothered me how much we fought, especially on nights like this; the kind where I just need him to be there, instead of biting my head off for no reason.

 Nights like these were the worst kind.

"We don't mesh."

  "Probably because you constantly want to fight," I grunted. "I mean, seriously, if you're bored, there are several soap operas to feed your incessant desire for drama and anger and general bitterness."

"You're just adding fuel to the fire," he sighed.

 "And you're just sitting there!" I growled. "Don't you understand that for the past seven months, all I've wanted was to be with you? To not have to have the same argument more than six times, or to bicker over who was supposed to buy groceries —"

 "You," he muttered. My eyes widened, watching as he still refused to make eye contact, and would rather fiddle with those beautiful hands of his than fucking look at me for more than two seconds.

 "You've got to be kidding me." I exhaled, completely exasperated. "Do you even want this?"

Finally, he glanced up, eyes laced with shock.

"Of course I do!" he jeered. "Why wouldn't I?"

 "Well," I cleared my throat, on the verge of flipping the coffee table over. Unfortunately, I did not possess the strength for such a demanding activity, especially since it all poured out of me every time I spoke to him. "There's a whole list of reasons, most of which you came up with all by yourself. Why don't we discuss the parts where you pick on every little flaw I have, huh?"

"We all have flaws."

"And you're an expert at sniffing out every single one."

 He stood up, running his hands through his messy hair, daring to allow his gaze to fall upon me once more. Three times, now! How lucky am I?

"You're impossible."

  "I'm also sick and tired of your shit," I retorted. "So I'm walking out, and I don't care about how much I want this anymore; it's not worth feeling like shit every time I speak to you."

And that's what I did. His horribly decorated apartment had been nothing but another slamming door, and the building it nestled in had faded back into being a tall, nameless body of bricks that I walked past on a daily basis.

 And him? His blue eyes turned pale, his hands became rough, and his voice stabbed me in the heart.

All the things I seem to love about boys these days.

xxx

dedicated to nova, mostly because she's keeping me up with her general amazingness. go read her stories, then go to bed; you will wake up a changed human being. js.

- jay.