1 clueless

He slowly made his way out of the bed, careful not to wake up the man sleeping soundly beside him. He grabbed his Marlboro Reds on the bedside table and went to open the only window of his room, which he never bothered to drape a curtain over since he likes the way the sunlight wakes him up, anyway. Taking the first drag from his cigarette, he stared at the early morning grey sky, trying to grasp the things that transpired last night.

Dylan said his name when he came. It was a soft whisper, barely audible if only Dylan's mouth wasn't behind his ear. He was startled, then; the feeling of unease and surprise replacing the libido he initially felt. He went straight to the bathroom afterwards to hide what he knew his face cannot not show, and talked himself to pretending that it didn't happen at all. He spent all night thinking about it, and although he didn't, Dylan's face saying his name in his dreams kept haunting him.

He's never a morning person, and always he wakes up to him being alone in bed whenever Dylan decides to spend the night. And he's used to it, and he prefers it somehow since he does not know what to do with the awkwardness there could be. He hates those stuff. But today, it's different. He was the one who's up early, and this gave him time to truly admire how Dylan look like his gods.

The lamp shade's light that's behind Dylan at the far end of the room gives him an ethereal glow, like a deity straight out of his hibernation. He has never ever seen him this way, because as much as he is tempted to look at Dylan while he's asleep he'd rather turn his back towards him and just try to fall asleep with as much space as possible between them.

But today, having this chance, he knew temptation is only now a word. His jawline were so perfectly shaped and sharply prominent that he thought Dylan came straight out of an artist's painting. He knew that Dylan's a fitness freak, and feeling his lean body when they have sex is different from really seeing it. His chest was toned perfectly, his shoulders bulging but not too big, and those biceps and arms feel like they easily just shove him away if needed to. Dylan isn't hairy, which is something that he likes most, since he himself is a monkey. Dylan's face was so peaceful that it's totally different from the kind of facade he's always trying to show every time he comes around.

He knew he is attracted to Dylan; the first three months of them being in such "Friends With Benefits" relationship has thrown him to a roller coaster ride he's never experienced before. He's always been a hopeless romantic, and knowing only the feelings that are attached to a person who is in a romantic relationship is different to those that he's felt in this venereal one.

It came to a point before, perhaps two months into this, that he's almost ready to hit that send button expressing how he really feels about Dylan, and that maybe they can take it on another level, which is totally absurd because they don't even talk and whenever he tries to open up or strike a conversation up Dylan would only give a small grunt or nod and he would then know that it's the end of conversation. And that's what stopped him and brought him back to his senses.

He loved patterns. He loved being able to solve riddles all by himself; it only takes quite a while sometimes especially when his perspective is colored by his feelings and emotions. And when he realized that this is just another puzzle to be solved, he knew that this is something that he does not need. At first, Dylan would only text him if he's available, get out of the house when they're done (they don't even talk or cuddle before and after) and leave him alone. They will do it three to four times a week, but sometimes nothing really happens for the entire week. But he was fine with that until Dylan started asking to sleep in and spend the night.

He was fine with it, too, and he actually likes it. It makes him feel validated. Makes him think that it was something that Dylan really liked to do, and that Dylan liked spending time with him, no matter how pathetic that seemed. However, he liked it too much to the point that he thinks Dylan liked him the way he likes Dylan. And a couple of weeks of this setup led him to believe it would then be right to express how he really feels and step their game up.

Again, at first, he didn't know what to make of this relationship. The rules weren't established; they were unspoken. He's had a hard time just figuring it out because they don't even talk and that it seemed so hard to reach out to Dylan. But it was getting clearer as time went by and the frequency of it has increased: he was convenient. This is easy. This is not complicated. Dylan is the kind of guy that would never commit, happy being just by himself, and having just a convenient source to feed his hunger. And that's where he knew where to place himself, then. That's when he found out that there's nothing to expect out of this. Nothing better than the sex, obviously. And he was at peace with that.

If there was one thing he cannot be sure why he feels that way, it was how much he trusts Dylan. He trusted Dylan when Dylan said that he's not having sex with other guys, just like how he is since he and Dylan started this relationship. It was scary, but he does not understand which part of him is just so stubborn to make him trust Dylan that much.

He squashed the nugget of the cigarette he did not realize he was holding between his fingers for so long already on the ashtray and lit up another one. He went to get his cold coffee (which he prepared the night before) inside the fridge when he heard Dylan's croaky voice saying," I didn't know you liked your coffee iced."

He snapped his head towards Dylan's direction in the bed and wondered heavily why this guy is talking to him about his coffee. He wasn't sure whether he should play it like how

he loves his coffee. Cold.

"Well, you would never," he said, sipping from his cold cup, his lips burning. Dylan was propping himself up the bed, using the pillows for back support. "But now, I know," Dylan said.

He went back to the window and sat down on the small ledge it provided, placing his coffee beside him and taking another drag from his fag. The grey light outside was becoming more bright, though still gray, and he liked it because it's giving him a silhouette, a black contrast on his face. At least not so much of a giveaway.

"You're up early, Jason," Dylan said, looking at him, studying his figure.

"And you're actually talking to me," he wanted to say. He was so used to the silence between them for almost six months that this really bothers him. He gazed at Dylan, trying to locate any trace of treachery in it. "Maybe you just slept in for long and woke up late, Dylan."

Dylan looked alarmed. He reached for his phone on the bedside table and checked the time, looking relieved then. "It's only six," he said. "This is when I usually wake up and leave your ass."

"Which you like, I assume," he said, picking up his cup and taking a sip again to hide his effort to keep a straight face.

"Obviously," Dylan retorted, studying Jason again, "or else we wouldn't have been doing this for so long."

"Six months is long?" he asked, feeling Dylan's eyes scrutinizing his entire being.

"You're my longest, Jason. I don't usually stay and stick with one but this is different," Dylan said.

Jason felt a traitorous shiver climb it's way down his spine, and he's glad that Dylan is far enough to not notice the goosebumps he's having right now. He took a last drag from his cigarette and threw it on the ashtray, and somehow it calmed him down. He looked at Dylan and their eyes met. He looked away quickly and set his eyes on the hardwood floor.

Then there was the silence. The silence that Jason was so used to. The silence that kept his heart at bay since realizing what it is that he truly feel for this guy in front of him. The silence that he can hardly ignore but can easily just go through. The silence he never liked but he needed so he can protect himself.

From the corner of his eye he can see Dylan getting out of the bed and dressing himself up. He picked it up piece by piece, his clothes, and it's hard for Jason to not notice the muscles in Dylan's body contracting, his godliness before his eyes, making Jason pine for another round. He stopped himself from thinking about it before he gets an erection which would be so apparent since he is only wearing boxer briefs; tight and secure.

Dylan was checking himself out in the mirror beside the door, tidying stubborn curls here and there and hand-ironing his blue button-down shirt. Afterwards, he reached for his shoes that's just below the mirror and sat on the bed to put them on.

"Were you drunk last night?" Jason asked, trying to figure out the reason why Dylan whispered his name when he came.

"No," Dylan said, busy with the ties of his shoes. When he finished, he stood up and looked at Jason with that same scrutinizing gaze he used when he was studying Jason in bed.

"You should have smelled it on me."

"Fair enough," Jason whispered, his eyes back on the floor and remembering how Dylan smelled. He always smelled good. So damn good he even wondered whether Jason's apartment's piping is filled with his perfume.

"Why?" Dylan asked, walking towards the door.

He hesitated to let him know why, and decided better to just let it go. "Nothing."

Dylan turned the doorknob and opened the door halfway, pausing to look at Jason once again. "Yes, I called your name, if that's what you are wondering about."

Their eyes met again, and this time Jason didn't look away.

"And I don't know why, Jason. I want to know but I am clueless, too," Dylan said, and left.