My Mistake 🔪

I watch his face as he talks to Brandon. Ryan never looks at me like that. And he's my best friend. 

He laughs at something, making Brandon smile. We both look at him the same way.

I frown when I see their joined hands sitting on the table. The matching engagement rings on their fingers glisten in the bright sunlight. Brandon proposed to him yesterday, ruining any chance I might've had with him.

Suddenly, Ryan turns, and looks right at me. He smiles, and waves me over. Brandon frowns.

"Hey, Blake." He says, smiling when I reach the table they're sitting at. Brandon doesn't even look at me. I don’t mind. We've never liked each other. Ryan tells him something quietly. He kisses him quickly, then stands, and walks beside me.

"Hi, Ryan." I say, as we walk down the sidewalk.

His curly black hair hangs over his blue eyes, and he keeps pushing it back, like usual. He’s wearing a green shirt and jeans. He looks nice, as he always does.

"You'll be coming to the wedding, right?" He asks me. "I know you don't like Brandon, but I really want you there. Please?"

I nod, refusing to look at him. "Yeah, of course."

"What's wrong?" He asks me, a hand resting on my shoulder.

I shake my head, and force a smile. "Nothing."

It must not be convincing enough, because he frowns. "You look sick. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine." I lie. He always knows.

He sighs. "You're never really fine when you say that."

He's right. Fine never really means fine.

"Blake, what happened? You can tell me." He asks. He sounds worried.

I stay silent. I've always wanted to tell him how I feel. I've been completely in love with him since we were thirteen. Before he knew he liked boys, before he knew I liked boys, and before he met and fell in love with Brandon.

I do want to tell him. But Brandon is always there, or I chicken out. I’ve tried so many times. 

I guess he realizes I don't really want to talk about it, because he changes the subject.

"You want to go check out that abandoned building?" He asks.

I smile. We used to do that all the time when we were kids. We would look through them when we needed to get away from our parents.

We walk into the old building, the door shutting loudly behind us. The lights are flickering, but we can see well enough. The building seems abandoned. I'm not sure what was here before, but it's mostly empty. There are several dark hallways leading away from the huge entryway.

In the middle of the room, there's a round table, set for three people. The plates and cups are covered in dust.

"What do you think that's about?" He asks, walking over. He picks up one of the big plates, inspecting it. He jumps at a sudden crack of lighting, it falls, shattering on the ground.

"Is it raining?" He asks in surprise.

I can hear water pounding on the roof, and I nod. "I guess so."

"But it was just..." He seems confused, but lets it go.

He bends down to pick up the pieces of glass, and I go to help him.

This would be a great time to tell him how I feel. It'll be too late if I don't.

We put the pieces back on the table. I grab his arm when he starts to walk away.

"Ryan."

"Yeah?"

"I've-You-" I can't say it.

He looks worried. "What is it?"

Before I know what I'm doing, I grab his face and kiss him.

He doesn't move. I'm about to back away, but he suddenly kisses me back, like he truly loves me. He tastes like strawberries.

When we break apart, we just stare at each other in surprise.

"Oh my god." He says suddenly, his eyes widening as his hand flies up to cover his mouth. "I'm engaged. Oh my god. Brandon will be so upset. Oh my god."

Oh. So it meant absolutely nothing to him. Of course it didn’t. Great. Just perfect.

“You don’t have to tell him.” I mutter.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yes, I do.”

“Yeah, now he can hate me even more.”

“That’s not it, I want to be honest to him.”

“He’d never know unless you tell him.”

“I - I don’t want-”

“Whatever.”

I turn away, walking to the other side of the table to prevent myself from doing something out of anger.

"Blake, listen, I'm sorry." He says, following me.

I stop, letting out a hard laugh. "For what? Breaking my heart?"

"No, I-I wasn't thinking, I shouldn’t have done that-"

It was just a mistake to him. I guess I mean nothing. Splendid.

"Because of Brandon, right?"

He sighs. "Yes. You -"

"But has Brandon known you since you were a baby?"

He looks away. "No. He didn't, but-."

"Did Brandon grow up with you?"

"I-No."

"Has Brandon been in love with you since seventh grade?"

I'm yelling now, tears rolling down my face despite my attempts to not cry.

He won't look at me. I don't blame him. I must look crazy. 

"Blake, look." He says. "I can't. I - I love Brandon. I'm so sorry, Blake. I've never thought of you like that. I only kissed you back because I didn't want to hurt you."

I laugh. I don't know why. It's not funny. Not at all.

My hand moves, and I pick up one of the big pieces of glass laying on the table. He doesn't move. He should. He really should.

"Blake. Put it down." He says sternly.

I ignore him, examining the piece in my hand. It's sharp enough to cut skin. Definitely sharp enough to kill a man if in the wrong hands.

"Blake." He takes a step towards me.

If he doesn't love me, he doesn't get to love anyone.

"Blake!" He yells, grabbing my arm. "Listen, I love you, but not like-"

I let out an insane giggle before thrusting my hand forward, burying the glass deep in his stomach. 

His eyes widen, his hand going to the glass. He stumbles back from me, but drops to his knees a few feet away. Blood pours out of him, surrounding his body as he falls.

He doesn’t move again.

The second part is called My Bad. Hope you enjoyed!